sex tourist from planet glitter
page 2 of 4clearly iggy is going to have to light his own cigarette. he pouts a bit, digs in his right pocket til he finds the lighter, lights up and takes a slow drag. “new to my planet? where are you from?”
“from planet glitter!” says maxwell happily. “i am here to come with cute earthlings. sex tourist, yes? i see velvet goldmine and think i must come to earth! i must find glitterboy!”
iggy feels a smile stretching his lips—not the usual cynical one, something more akin to maxwell’s own wacky grin. well, it’s certainly the most unusual pickup line he’s heard in awhile. what the fuck. so he’s not the usual jaded feral rocker boy—why not have sex with a cute hobbit-alien?
“your place, or mine?”
maxwell brings a closed fist to his mouth, opens it, and blows glitter onto iggy. iggy blinks and rubs his eyes. “hey, that was nonconsens—“ he goes silent when he opens his eyes.
he’s in a spaceship.
specifically, he’s in a huge, brightly lit, circular room, surrounded by windows looking out onto the stars. it’s a bit like one of those rotating restaurants—in outer space. he takes a drag off the clove, and saunters over to one of the windows. again he feels maxwell’s eyes hungrily following his ass. some things apparently remain constant across the galaxies.
he looks out into the stars and composes his features into a “i’ve seen stranger things than you in my breakfast cereal” look. but when he turns around, maxwell’s smiling at him so joyously that his jaded smile cracks into something equally joyous and naïve. “wow, this is great,” he says. maxwell actually jumps up and down and claps his hands.
“so glad you like it!” he says.
what the fuck, thinks iggy, and jumps up and down and claps his hands too.
ithout warning maxwell races across the polished floors and tackles iggy. he might be small and fey, but damn, he’s strong.