Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 6

suck my insides out or some shit like that."
    Kyle looked Rory up and down. "More like you wished I was some vacuous twinkie boy stage hand with fully engorged balls and his brains in his dick, you mean— besides, I wasn't jabbering. I was trying to tell you we're not alone here, darling ."
    Rory didn't know what to say next, other than feeling the overwhelming urge to punch Kyle's smug features off his pretty face. If Kyle had been a twink, at least things would be on the up and up, vacuous or not. Twinks did it for Rory because they did what they were told, simple as that. If he wanted a four hour fuck session with some boy hanging off his cock to worship him, then that's what he got. Most lads who came to the studio were keen to learn and even keener to make it big in the film industry by having a connection to one of its stars, no matter what they had to do. A connection Rory was only too happy to provide. "Don't darling me, you stereotypical sissy boy," Rory snapped. "If you paid more attention to your stars and their careers instead of worrying about sucking up the studio suit's arses because they provided the funds, we wouldn't have to get our thrills with the new and naive employees, now would we?"
    Kyle placed his hands onto his hips. "Oh, please. Don't even start with me about your precious career, you pig— yes, that's right, you're a pig. You treat others like dirt and that rubs off onto your career. No one wants to hire an asshole and no one has done anything to you except yourself. If you opened your eyes for a moment and took a good hard look at what's going on beyond your trailer's bed filled with barely legal boys, then you'd realise there are people who care about you all around you. You just can't see beyond your own selfishness to see it, can you? So, go ahead, keep fucking those stage hands left, right and centre, but don't come crying to me, sweetheart, when your film career is as washed up as an 80s sitcom star because you can't attract the pretty boys anymore. You make me sick."
    Rory punched Kyle.
    The man hit the glittering alien sand with a thud, missing the space warrior suit by inches. Blood trickled from the corner of Kyle's lips and he shook his head as he tried to get back onto his feet. The punch wasn't a hard one, probably surprised Kyle more than anything. Rory didn't want to hurt him— they were filming a bigger than usual budget film right now. Still, the words the man spoke kind of hurt and he deserved some sense to be knocked into him at the very least.
    With Kyle lying in the dirt, something struck Rory. Not a pang of consciousness, far from it. No, something physically struck him, right in the small of his back, too. He wheeled. On the ground was a gem stone. Rory looked up to see bounding toward them what he could only describe as an alien creature that looked like a cross between a human and a dog with the teeth of a shark and the attitude to match. The alien was throwing the projectiles at them using a sort of sling apparatus.
    What's more, there were now four of these alien dog beings charging toward them, gemstones raining all around them within a blink of an eye. But they weren't gemstones at all. They were casings for robotic insects, ones that scurried towards Rory and Kyle, fangs at the ready.
    One of the dog aliens raised his arm and let out a war cry. All drew swords that weren't metal in fashion, but made of electricity. The whole scene suddenly became like something out of a really bad B-grade sci-fi movie. Only trouble was, as far as Rory could tell, this was real. The proof of such a thing his hurt knuckles when he punched Kyle.
    "I told you we weren't alone, you dim-witted thug." Kyle staggered to his feet, kicking away the metallic bugs while he used Rory for support. "If you were listening to me instead of thinking about your own self-importance or worrying about your next twink conquest, we might have been able to get away."
    Without thought— and really not knowing why, Rory said, "Quick, Kyle, get into the space warrior suit!"
    Kyle looked at him through pained eyes. "You're joking, darling."
    "I don't joke. Remember, I'm too busy lusting over barely legal boys." Rory pulled open the rather large and somewhat cumbersome back door of the suit, muscles flexing and sweat beading off his forehead within moments. He was dreading already how his arse was going to ache after being squashed inside the metal contraption for more than two minutes, even more so