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Post by israel on Oct 11, 2010 16:14:08 GMT -5
 This was a conspiracy against him, he was sure. Israel stood alone at the bus stop in the outskirts of Morocco's largest city, the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the dusty road ahead, and the schedule had said the last bus would be coming at 18:00. It was now – Israel took a quick glance at his cell phone – 18:42. Crinkling up his nose at this, he looked down the road, hands hooded over his eyes to protect from the glaring African sun. Empty. Totally empty. He half expected a tumbleweed to whoosh across the street with a warm gust of wind. To his disappointment, all he received was dust stirred up in the light breeze, some of it getting into his eyes and mouth.
Perhaps he shouldn't have had the cab drop him off on the side of this deserted road, but the fare was becoming way too high! Israel mentally kicked himself for being so cheap. His own miserliness was what had him out here in the first place, stranded at a lonely bus stop with nothing but a small suitcase that he was now sitting atop of, chin cradled in his hands.
He could always call someone to pick him up, but the humiliation was too much to bear. Israel didn't need help from anyone! (lie) He could get into Casablanca himself, even if the bus was purposefully avoiding this particular stop. It was because Israel was the one waiting, huh? Bus driver must be Muslim... and clairvoyant. Yes, Israel would simply walk.
Grabbing the suitcase in his arms and slinging his mini-uzi over his shoulder, Israel began the five mile trek to Casablanca... the bus roared past him when he was not even thirty yards away from the stop. Fuck Morocco. B|
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Post by morocco on Oct 11, 2010 21:12:51 GMT -5
aww, poor israel. luckily, after his four mile trek (lol, as if morocco would be on time to save him), a mustang would soar past israel on the highway to casablanca, before suddenly skidding to a stop. putting the black american car in reverse, the topless sports car would stop at the side of israel, morocco behind the wheel. "oh, there you are!" he would exclaim, and israel would take notice that two hoes french women in bikini's were in his backseat, front seat empty. "i went to go look for you, since your bus came but the bus driver just laughed at me when i asked for a little jew orphan... haha, maybe i should have just picked you up from the start, my bad cous'." forever so cheerful, the passenger side door was unlocked as he invited israel in the car.
"anyway, we're going to the beach. i got some bitches, and we got some stuff in the trunk. we'll be going to a private beach, because i don't want anyone seeing me with these sluts. so don't tell, okay?" morocco would grin happily, patting israel on the back affectionately. they were cousins after all, you know! they had to look out for each other. "also, if you didn't bring any trunks, you can swim nude its okay. actually i'd prefer you to."
and with that, israel's door was locked once he was in, and the car sped off down the highway to their destination. i think morocco might be more awesome than mikaboshi. he's just so cool... and creepy.
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Post by israel on Oct 13, 2010 0:31:33 GMT -5
It had been almost an hour now, Israel could finally see the city limits and almost cried in joy. His feet were killing him, his arms felt like they were about to fall off from schlepping his suitcase, his mouth and eyes were dry from the dry heat and the dust. The latter most of his complaints were worsened as a fancy American car sped by him, sending up dirt and sand and misery. When he heard the brakes screech and the car pop into reverse, Israel was quick to drop his luggage from his arms and swing the sub-machine gun from his shoulder into his hands and take aim at whomever was going to attack him. He faltered at the sight of two bikini-clad chicks in the back seats and finally the driver – none other than the country he was cursing out in his mind for the past hour.
Israel lowered his weapon, returning it back to hanging of his shoulder as he picked up his suitcase from the ground and proceeded to dust it off. “I hate you. So much,” he responded in a clipped tone. Israel was almost tempted to continue walking and stubbornly refuse Morocco's “help”, but his sore feet dragged the rest of him into the car and he instantly regretted his decision when he heard the discomforting click of a locking door. Israel looked back at the two French girls, amazed that they haven't yet slapped his cousin for calling them such awful names.
His head snapped back at Morocco. Nude?! Israel could only gape at the proposal. “In that case, I think I'll stay in the car while you and your 'bitches' enjoy the beach.” While his voice sounded cool, his face burned in humiliation. How painful would it be if he jumped out of the moving vehicle? Spending a month in the ICU seemed better than what was surely to come. |
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Post by morocco on Oct 13, 2010 13:35:39 GMT -5
oh wow, he didn't have to be a jerk about it! especially how the boy had just decided to save him, sheesh. but you could tell the hoes in the backseat were starting to get repulsed, and the car came to a stop after they had asked to be taken back home. morocco would look at israel, and then to the hoes, then back at israel.
"god fucking. get out the fucking car."
"uhm, what?"
"get out my fucking car!"
"right here? omg we're still in the desert."
"BITCH GET OUT MY CAR OR YOUR BODY WILL."
oh jesus, the hoes had no choice but to get out in their bikini's, giving slight 'ughs', and rolling their eyes. making sure to make a point, the mustang kicked up lots of dirt as it skidded off, soaking the bitches in it. after that was done, morocco gave israel a look.
and then he smiled.
... :x
eventually, the duo would be at the beach, where the brown haired teen would relax lightly after getting out the car, tugging off his shirt and flopping down on the sand, sun against his back. he peered up towards israel, and motioned for him to get out the car, stop being a juvenile brat, and to come have some fun! of course, should israel get there, morocco would sit up and slap the boys ass playfully, a chuckle escaping his mouth as he became somewhat giddy. "aahh, israel! your ass has gotten more squeezable!!"
totally taking mika's place.
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Post by israel on Oct 13, 2010 14:08:50 GMT -5
Of course he had to be a jerk about it. You'd be cranky too if you just walked four miles in the desert. Israel came so close to jumping out of the car once it came to a stop, but was shaken up at the shrill scream of his cousin and turned to look at the scantily clad women who were grumbling under their breath and they climbed out of the back seat to begin their walk home... or maybe get a ride from the next truck the drove by. No sane man would leave a pair of hot chicks in bikinis on the side of the road (Israel didn't count Morocco as 'sane'). “Can I go with them instead?” he asked, about ready to hop out... but the car sped off again, sending up a plume of dirt to coat the perfectly tanned bodies of the women. The look Morocco gave Israel afterward was enough to make him shudder.
Israel stayed silent the rest of the car ride, slouched far in his seat and pouting childishly as he stared at the glove box. When they finally reached their destination, he watched as Morocco stripped off his shirt – well, he glanced and then quickly looked away in embarrassment – and sat up just a bit to look at the view of the shore while his cousin flopped down into the sand. When motioned to come over, Israel shook his head violently while at the same time removing his shoes and gathering up his pistol before stepping out of the car and slamming the door as hard as he could. He took careful steps across the sand, planning to walk past Morocco and to the ocean... but a hand on his ass ruined his plan. Israel quickly turned around, aiming a kick to Morocco's face. “Don't touch me, you jerkoff!” he'd yell, face red with what he would later claim to be rage. Yes, that was it. |
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Post by morocco on Oct 13, 2010 14:19:24 GMT -5
a foot smashed against the center of his face, causing the brown haired boy to enter into a fetal position as he grasped his nose with his hands. "the hell, israel!" he bawwed, wincing lightly. luckily, he wasn't bleeding - but the action was still done. he peered up towards israel, giving a sinister grin as his eyes narrowed on his prey, and within moments he jumped up, attempting to tackle his little cousin down into the sand. of course he'd have to guard his crotch from getting knee'd, but he'd make sure to grab at the boys wrists and roughly pull them behind his back. after he was sure he had israel pinned chest down against the sand, morocco would let his own body lay atop of the boy, face lightly against the boys ear, teeth gently biting his earlobe with a nibble.
oh shit was this considered rape? D:
"why did you ever move from morocco anyway? we used to have so much fun together." he cooed softly, ignoring their... uncompromising position.
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Post by israel on Oct 13, 2010 14:42:33 GMT -5
There was a brief feeling of accomplishment as Morocco fell to the ground, cradling his face in his hands, but Israel's smirk was short lasting as he saw his cousin jump back up with a predatory look on his face. He tried to run, stumbling like an idiot in the sand before being tackled to the ground and having the wind knocked out of him. There was plenty of kicking and yelling and failed attempts at getting his gun, but it was all in vain. Eventually, Izzy was pinned under the taller boy.
That's not to say he didn't continue to struggle. While it was obviously useless, Israel did all he could to get the other off of him, and his squirming only increased when Morocco dared bite at his ear. “Get off me before I shoot you in the face!” An empty threat, of course. There was no way Israel could get his pistol with his hands pinned behind his back. He calmed down a little at Morocco's question, staying silent and spitting sand out of his mouth. Rather then answer, he just shrugged his shoulders... or at least tried to. “You need to lose some weight,” he said instead, diverting from the question. |
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Post by morocco on Oct 14, 2010 22:52:43 GMT -5
oh, so he wanted to play this the hard way, huh? well we all know what morocco had that was hard. dude i just totally made a awesome. anyways, as the boy below him would threaten to shoot him in the face, morocco merely laughed heartily in his ear, before letting go of the boys wrists and lifting himself, squeezing his ass playfully as he sat down beside him - of course retreating his hands quickly after his groping was finished. now, he was somewhat serious.
"you know," he would start, arms wrapping around his bare legs, his trunks being the only thing he had on at the moment, "i kinda... miss you." suhail would grumble under his breath, the brown haired boy shifting his head away from izzy's face, lips thinning down as he pondered to himself. "everything is kinda dull now back at home. when you were there, i had.. someone to take care of. to show affection to." contorting his lips up in a soft smile, he would turn towards israel, toes digging into the sand. "but i guess everyone has to leave home someday..."
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Post by israel on Oct 18, 2010 15:31:45 GMT -5
Israel shot his cousin a glare as he sat up and quickly scooted away, rubbing at his wrists where they had been grabbed. It hadn't been hard but all that struggling was sure to leave a few light bruises on his skin. At least Morocco had been nice enough to get off and not rape the Jewish nation.
Now it seemed like he was prattling on about sentimental things like the time when Izzy was under his “care”. Sure, Morocco could be nice when he wanted and could almost trick Israel into thinking he was a good guy, but he knew that underneath that friendly exterior was a seriously disturbed individual. Once he found out that his cousin wasn't quite as nice as he'd though, Israel was quick to leave and now he didn't even need the Arab country. If it wasn't for Israel's lack of other friends, he would have cut all ties with Suhail. He was too nice to say these things, of course.
“If you're so lonely, buy a dog and get over it.” Maybe he wasn't too nice, after all.
Yes, that was Israel. Ruining nice moments like this since before Christ. He stood up, patting the sand off his clothes and slowly started tip-toeing closer to the shore. “Or,” he called back to Morocco, stopping just before the water and rolling up the legs of his pants. “you can always take over another, weaker country and make them your pet”. |
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