Kai Parker One Shots

Bird In A Cage

"I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy." Sweet like honey was the baritone voice echoing through the empty hallways of the local penitentiary, gentle yet laced with a captivating rasp that any ears would be blessed to hearken to. Combat boots tap, tap along the grimy floor tiles, belonging to a lanky male wiggling his hips and making sure he gets in his nightly piss. "All around in my home town, they're trying to track me down..." Lyrics dissipate into whistles as he realizes he is alone no longer, evident by a brand new set of footsteps.

Gloomy is the cell in which he resides, a suspect in a first-degree premeditated murder. Twenty years to life if he was convicted and odds of freedom bleak, he could rest assured this was home sweet home for the rest of his miserable years. There was one sole reason he hadn't already gone mad from the endless silent nights and piteous mornings of wallowing in deep-rooted loneliness, and the closer you approached he was made aware of exactly what piqued his interest in the first place. Challenge, the utter expression of disgust he was always met with that he knew was merely a front.

"Parker." Harsh was your authoritative bark, and from the steel metal bars you noticed the hideous orange garb every inmate had to don was suspended low enough that you could make out his chiseled back muscles. "Don't you think it's a little late to be making this much noise? If you don't quiet down, we're gonna have to put you in solitary confinement."

Scintillating white teeth drag along his baby pink lower lip as he bats his eyelashes at you over his shoulder alluringly, hands still between thighs as he works his zipper upwards once more. The heel of his shoe kicks the handle to flush. "I can think of other ways to be loud, you know," he snickers, voice dripping with lascivious intentions as he whirls around. A couple of tufts of hair peek out from his v-line, which he doesn't rush to bury as he trudges forward in an arrogant swagger, intimidating in the way his nefarious turquoise eyes pierce through your heart like daggers. "Volume is hard to control when you know how to use what you're endowed with. Don't act like you weren't ogling me, baby."

"Oh, yeah," you laugh mockingly, slipping your baton out from the loops of your heavy belt and poking him in the abdomen. "Nothing in the world gets me hotter." As if you'd bear any semblance of a crush on someone whose hobbies involved dismemberment and reveling in the torment of his victims - only someone as sick as he could desire love in such mayhem. Malachai Parker had been accused of taking the life of a woman in Central Park in broad daylight, no less, various witnesses coming forward in the quest to lock him up until he became old and brittle.

Yet, in all of the wickedness that flowed through his six foot stature, there was just a hint of charm in those dimples. Inviting was the scent of Marlboro cigarettes and Gucci Guilty cologne, or the soft locks of cocoa hair dangling over his furrowed brows. Abs peeking out from the lapels of the jumpsuit, voicelessly asking to be touched if just for a moment. "I see through your little game in the same way I know those unflattering slacks hide a fucking gorgeous little bottom." Flirtation was a specialty of his, and he knew exactly what to say to instill yearning in any woman who was brave enough to see past his scary nature.

"Keep those comments up, and I'll extend your stay a week instead of three days. We don't tolerate that kind of talk in here." The majority of the rowdy felons were always making sly remarks any time you or any other female wardens passed, which made sense as it was the closest they'd be to anyone of the opposite sex. It was to be expected.

"Is that so?" he continues to badger, loving the rise he's getting out of your usually more stone cold exterior. "You don't seem very hellbent on enforcing the rules, or maybe you just like me too much to lay down the law. The naughtier I act, the more you seem to ponder what could happen between the two of us. I say you take me up on my offer and show me that delicious little pussy." Fingers slink through until they grasp at the hem of your button-up top, yanking you so near you can feel his warm breath. "Don't make me ask twice, I'm so fucking horny and there's nothing I'd love more."