7 Works in Ride or Die (Webcomic)
Listing Works
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Summary
The first time Vick had thought about it was at the diner.
Currently, Lucky was wiping down the bar, reaching over the countertop. He was bent over just enough to give Vick a perfect view of Lucky’s ass in his diner uniform, two perfect globes that would probably feel great in Vick’s huge hands. Damn, had he really never noticed before how good runt’s ass was?
…Should he be noticing how good runt’s ass was?
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Three times Vick starts to realize the magnitude of his feelings for Lucky, and one time he actually does something about it.
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Illegal tournaments for mounted men-at-arms are held far beyond the walls of Crucero City. Lucky is supposed to come and observe his first as a new member of the Dead Enders, but fate is in the wind and he gets more than he bargained for in his first tournament.
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"You can, uh, stay for a while if you're still feeling tipsy," Lucky says, and Vick doesn't need to be told twice. He's not quite ready for this night to end yet, and besides, he's wide awake. His sleep schedule has been jacked by late night races for years now—this is nothing new—but… he still doesn't really want to decline. He won't be unpacking that.
"Yeah, yeah. For the best," Vick chuckles as he crosses the threshold. Inside is… homey. Not too bad. He can see a figure passed out under a blanket on the couch, the TV in front of them playing nothing but infomercials at this hour.
Lucky nods to the side, towards a hallway, and something in Vick's chest stirs when he realizes they're heading towards Lucky's bedroom. He's not going to unpack that either.
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They stare at each other for a long moment, eyes locked and jaws dropped, until Vick finally says, "I can explain." He stands up straight and his horns nearly brush the ceiling.
"Can you?" Lucky asks, his voice a little shaky.
"No, I lied." Vick swallows. He has two tongues—or maybe one long tongue with a deep split. Lucky isn't sure.
"You're naked." Lucky's eyes dip down and then back up again. "And green."
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"Oh, I thought you knew karate?"
Lucky squirms, but Vick's got him pinned: face down, one arm trapped behind his back, the other uselessly flailing, and Vick on top of him, straddling him to keep him stuck in place. It's his own fault, really—talking without thinking—but Vick didn't have to go in so hard on his bluff, either.
It's not all bad, though.
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The rain is blowing across the parking lot in sheets so thick that Lucky can't even see the main road when he looks out of the dingy window of the even dingier motel room he's trapped in with Vick. He had known there was a storm coming in when they started this roadtrip, but he didn't expect it to hit this soon, much less this hard. It was only dumb luck that they happened to inch up to this motel, and though it's definitely not great—Lucky refuses to think about what any of these stains are—it's better than being out in that mess.
Lucky glances back over his shoulder at Vick, who's flipping through TV stations while sitting on the edge of the bed—the only bed in the room. Lucky's trying not to think about that either.
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Summary
Drunk texts. Deep Talks. Porn. A demon car, of course.