Author's website: http://freespace.virgin.net/jodie.mouse

Disclaimer: they are borrowed.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: this is for want of a better term a Bad!Kowalski story.
don't worry it is totally 100% gore free :)

It wasn't that easy. I mean I thought it would be "Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am", or in this case Fraser, but it weren't like that.

A whole different kettle of fish was Frase. I mean he loved y'know, wanted love.

Call me cynical but I don't believe in love anymore, in fact I don't believe in a whole lotta stuff. Don't believe in good and evil, black and white, `cos the difference between them got lost somewhere along the way leaving a gigantic grey smudge of meaningless.

I wanted it to be just "Wham Bam" but he didn't want it that way. No. Frase always wanted more, more, and more. And I couldn't give him what he wanted `cos when Stella left me she gutted me and left nothing. She removed all my vital organs. Stella let me keep my cock though. My cock is still here telling me what to do, when to do it and to whom.

I listen a whole lot more to my cock now than I do to my head. I try not to use my brains when it comes to these things. Otherwise I might discover I have something called a conscience. Y'know like in Pinocchio, or I think it's Pinocchio, one of those cartoons anyhow. The little voice that sits on their shoulder -- the angel and the devil -- you must know what I'm talking about. I bypassed my conscience a long while ago.

Who cares? I ain't got those voices telling me right from wrong, telling me I should've loved Fraser and not just seen him as a convenient hole to fuck.

But that's all I am -- just a cock looking for a hole, any hole, to fuck. So sue me. No different from most men in wanting a good fuck.

Yeah. I admit it. I enjoyed fucking Fraser's sweet ass, if that makes me queer so what? I enjoyed pummelling into the silken skin. And in a sense my cock loved him in a way I could never be able to.

But I couldn't love him, not how he wanted me to.

I didn't murder him. I didn't make him put the rope around his neck. Hell, I wasn't even there.

No, he never struck me as the suicidal type. Not at all.

End Convenient by Jodie Louise: jodie.mouse@virgin.net

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