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Love Is Ǝvil

Chapter 72: A Little Help From Hailie Jade

Summary:

Marshall can't get his head straight but going out again to let some random guy fuck sense into him is wrong. What else can he do? Maybe his daughter Hailie has a better idea.

Chapter Text

Commercials flickered across the TV screen, nothing good was on anyway. Marshall jumped off the couch, an urge in his legs pulling at him. The scribbles in his notebook all nonsense, leaving it behind on the couch while he paced through the living room. You could be hella more useful at the studio, slut. There are plenty dicks that need your mouth. Not wrong, but not right either. A frustrated groan from Marshall and he pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up with the gesture. He needed a plan and soon, only so many days he could miss, not enough days he could spend at home. Didn't want to either, after all he loved his job most of the time.

But Ryan was there, too. Why was Marshall the one hiding at home? It was his studio, Ryan could build his own. He growled at himself. Ask your boo to fuck your throat, that usually calms you down. True but not helpful. Wasn't that why he was in this situation in the first place? Because he used sex for everything else but the actual romance part.

With a sigh he fell onto the couch again, head leaning against the backrest and eyes closed. A dick's always helpful, fag. Stuffing your mouth so hard you can't speak for days, that's what I call a gift. A good excuse. If his throat was so sore he couldn't talk, he had no business being in the studio. Marshall reached out for his phone that lay on the couch near his notebook. A button press later the dating app was open, a few unread messages. He bit his lips as he went through them: I wanna massage your feet lick them clean suck your toes use my coxk as your foot toy stuff your big toes in my foreskin - hung? - Like to be shit on? - You're cute. ;) - What's up! do you find any interest in joining our Orgy group and parties? - My rock hard will power is evident - A knock at the tent door - Cash to see you -  Hi are you a bottom? - nice, ive been lifting weights a lot it makes me real horny lol.. u? - hey can I suck you - I want to get raped. Real raped. Unplanned, beat, forced to perform, pounded hard and way past pleasure, and then tied up, gagged, and then hear him on the phone inviting over his buddies to use and dispose of me

Ah, the good ol' days … Marshall shook his head as he closed the app undone. This was no good. Free dicks are always good, bitch! True, but not what he needed. Exactly what you need, lil' gay looking boy. A hard 9 inches right up your ass and another 9 inches straight down your throat. Marshall pushed his fingertips through underneath his glasses and into his eye sockets, mind echoing the wrong words. What was the right choice here? The smart choice to do? Dick's the only choice for you. It was, sadly. He opened his phone again, opened his text messages and Nicolas's name: can we meet? I need to suck someone, anyone. please?   Thumb hesitated after it had pressed send already, too late. "Fuck." Well, wasn't worse than what he'd done in front of his boyfriend already, right.

Marshall sat up straight. Mindfulness. Wasn't this situation why he practiced it? He found an attentive and comfortable position to sit in, his eyes fell half closed and he listened to his breathing. Perhaps your boo gets you on your knees again? Fucking your face like the lil' slut you are. You have very fuckable lips, homo. Jizz really keeps your face young, and it looks good on you. Face soaked in jizz, some drops in your hair as well. Now with it being brown again, it really pops.

Another frustrated groan, Marshall opened his eyes and jumped up from the couch again. A hand stroking over his short hair, not long enough to rake through it. Spiky black hair was better. Something to occupy his mind for a little while …

"Hailie?", he shouted through the house and hurried to the stairs, taking two at a time he jumped upwards. "Hey Hailie", he shouted again hitting the second floor.

A blonde shock of hair thrust out of a door and his daughter asked baffled: "What, Dad? I'm doing my homework."

"And I'm sure you're doing great", he came to a halt in front of her, "But I thought you could help me with something?"

"What you need help with?", she asked and stepped out of her room completely.

Marshall leaned to the side to look into her room, trying to see what homework she was working on. "Well, not if you're busy. It ain't that important." Of course he couldn't see from here.

"What is it?", she asked again.

You need to suck a dick, she can't help you with that. What's wrong with you, homo? "No, no, you're busy with school, my thing can wait. Sorry I bothered you."

Doubtful she raised her eyebrows, inspecting him from head to toe. "What's wrong, Dad?"

"Nothing." That's a lie, everything's wrong with you, slut. Most obviously, that your holes are empty. This was a bad idea. "I mean, I thought we could …", he shrugged, "I don't know, the Doc said I should do meditation and, like … You're a smart girl, maybe you could show me?"

"Meditation?", she asked puzzled and skeptical.

Marshall shrugged again. "Like, to calm my life down a little? I guess." What did he know? You only know how to suck dick. That's calming, little gay looking boy, very calming.

"Makes sense", Hailie answered in thoughtful slowness. "Sure, I can help with that."

A tentative smile on his face. "Thanks, Baby."

For a moment she disappeared into her room again and Marshall peeked through the cracked door. Hailie was kneeling in front of her closet pulling out rolled up mats for them, vibrantly colored in violet and teal.

"I take the blue one", he called dips. Take one now, maybe we get some action here. Your dick's too soft, slut. Wasn't everything too soft about him?

She gave him the teal colored mat. "Let's do some yoga", she grinned and walked past him down the stairs.

"Yoga?", he groaned, "You had to go there, didn't you." He'd been so good at avoiding this, now all his smart excuses and efforts seemed silly.

"Of course", a joyful whistle was in her voice, "I'm not squandering a chance like this."

He should've seen it coming. "Fine, I do yoga with ya. But it better work", he muttered and walked down after her.

"Yeahy", she squeaked happily and jumped down the last few steps.

Marshall smiled. You completing your transformation into a girl now? It's about damn time, bitch. With a sigh he entered the living room and unrolled his mat next to his daughter's. "So, how does this work?"

"Don't worry, I'll make it easy for you", she assured him. She stepped onto her mat: "Stand like this, feet together", and her toes wiggled a little for emphasis, "Shoulders relaxed", and she rolled them slightly, "And arms to the sides."

Watching her skeptically Marshall stepped onto his mat, naked feet together, back straight and shoulders relaxed, perhaps. A nod. "Okay, got that."

"Take a deep breath", she advised, "And raise your hands like this." Her hands raised over her head, palms facing each other.

Marshall took a deep breath - a common theme here - and raised his hands the same way, reaching for the ceiling.

"Hold and breathe fully." Hailie closed her eyes.

He frowned, what did that mean? I know something better to fill your throat with. C'mon, there's always a guy out there who wants to get his dick sucked. They ain't hard to find. Maybe five minutes and you could have a dick shoved into your mouth. It's that easy. Marshall scrunched his eyes closed. How 'bout the gym bro, he sounds simple. You could suck his dick while he lifts and he'll think it's the best idea ever. Get him doubly horny, maybe he stuffs you twice, slut.

"Lower your arms again", Hailie announced.

Marshall didn't feel like this was working but he followed her instructions anyway, they'd just begun, perhaps it needed a moment to take effect. I know an effect, homo, it's called The Little Bitch Effect and happens when you get a dick down your throat.

"Now", Hailie explained calmly, voice steady and quiet, "Slide your feet apart like this. Don't go too wide, you need to be stable." Her legs stretched almost fully across the mat, from one end to the other. "And turn your right foot out."

Marshall stood with his legs apart, turning one of his feet to point out. Arms hung cluelessly down his sides. "You sure this'll work?" If you'd follow my instructions … Then he'd have a dick in his hole by now, he knew that, no reason to repeat it every ten seconds. I repeat it until you have a dick in your hole, slut, entirely your choice.

"Extend your arms to the sides", she said as she did, "And bend your right knee. Look out over your right hand."

You'd rather look at a right dick, am I right. Marshall suppressed a sigh. A little bit of time with his daughter, was that too much to ask? You don't really wanna be here, this ain't no fun. You wanna be chained to a motel bed, hands still and useless, ass high in the air and for all the guys to stand in line to fuck your hole and your face, to fill you with cum until it's the only thing in your stomach. You gonna have a cum belly where normal guys have a beer belly, that's what you want. A hole dicks can pump their jizz into, a hole men can use and abuse until you wear out. I'm surprised you're still in good enough condition, almost forty and not only still alive but also still fuckable. Not bad, slut, not bad. You did learn a thing or two from your mom, didn't ya. And you're always telling me you hate her, tsk. Let's get out of here and order you a line of dicks to wreck your hole tonight. I know you can stretch your legs wider than this, there's enough room for two down there. Get your hole wide, wide open. Stuffed full like a turkey. Stuffed to the brim until you spill out. Can you feel it? The jizz dripping down your legs, your hole too open and loose to hold it back in anymore. Until the next dick shoves inside and plugs you up. Can you hear it? The jizz sloshing and splotching inside your hole as the dick thrusts in, bathing this dick in the jizz of many, many others, making your hole all wet and slick like a pussy …

"Dad?", his daughter asked, standing normal on her mat looking at him doubtfully.

Marshall blinked for a moment, then his body hurried into a normal posture. "Yeah? What? I'm fine, okay."

Skeptically she raised her eyebrows at him.

"I am", he muttered. "I don't think this is working." Finally, slut. Can we go now to the motel? It's about time your hole … Yes, yes, dicks and jizz everywhere, he got the picture.

"Is something on your mind?", she asked. "Like, meditation is about emptying your mind, but if something's bothering you it often doesn't work."

Your mind is empty alright. Marshall shook his head, the sigh slipping out despite his efforts not to. "I'm fine, everything's fine."

"No, it's not", her voice uncharacteristically strict and serious.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses in the way.

"What's going on, Dad?", she asked, her worries clearly audible. Why did she worry about him? He didn't want her to.

But he couldn't make it go away. Not as long as he was this much of a mess, and when would that end? Perhaps never. With a sigh he let himself fall down on the mat, arms lying on his knees, toes wiggling uncertain. "It's a bit much right now … in my head and with Nicolas", he admitted in a low voice. "I don't want to worry you."

"I know, Dad", she came down to sit next to him, head resting on his shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss into her blonde hair. "But … isn't that life? That it's hard sometimes but you'll get through it eventually, somehow."

"I guess so." One hold-up, it wasn't as easy as it sounded. You're easy enough, bitch. Wasn't that what made all of this so hard?

Hailie's small hand stroked softly down his arm, a comforting gesture. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I do", he admitted quietly, "Like, the Doc is great and all, it just takes time." Marshall didn't want to tell her about the weird thoughts he had. I'm not weird, homo, I'm just painting some word pictures for you to jerk off to. Or the weird things that he did. This wasn't for her eyes or ears.

She hummed agreeing, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

He sighed again. What was he doing? "I think I screwed things up with Nicolas." Again. This time for real.

"Why?"

Marshall kneaded his lower lip between his teeth. "He said the L-word, and I didn't."

"Oh?", her blue eyes looked at him surprised.

He shrugged slightly. "To be fair, he chose a strange moment to say it. I was all busy with the fight Ryan and I had - have, I don't know - so it's partially on him, too."

"You and Ryan are fighting?", she asked even more surprised, "Is that why you've been home all week?"

Embarrassed Marshall rubbed his neck, a gesture of guilt. "Maybe." For all the violence he rapped about, he hated confrontation in real life. Of course this childishness wouldn't work, he was only pushing the hard moment into the future and made it harder with every push.

"Oh Dad, really?", a little sympathetic smile on her face, "You're always telling me to tackle my problems head on."

"I know, I know that", he huffed lightly, "It's just easier said than done, alright."

An understanding nod, "Of course, and it's no good to try and do all the things at once. If you half-ass two things, you won't do either of them right." Initially a lesson he told her when she had bitten off more than she could chew with her school activities, wanting to be on the volleyball team and in the art club and to ace every test and to go out with friends of course, but a day had only so many hours. "If you're hiding from the problem with Ryan anyway, then you can use the time and work it out with Nicolas."

"One step at a time", he muttered. "But … if I don't feel it, I shouldn't say it."

"Are you not feeling it?", she asked, cocking her head to the side with doubt. "You seem pretty happy with him."

Marshall bit his lips, bashful she knew and bashful that it was true. "That doesn't mean that I love him", or that he deserved Nicolas loving him despite everything. Sometimes love wasn't enough.

A moment of silence spread out between them. Hailie was watching him closely, thoughtfully before she spoke again. "Do you want to love him?"

"What?", he asked with a frown, "That ain't how this works."

"I know, but", she objected, "But if you're stubbornly refusing to want the relationship with him in the first place, then you won't come to love him. You have to be open for it."

That's what I been saying: Be open, slut, spread your legs wide! "What do you know?", his voice harsher than before, "You haven't been in love yet."

"I have eyes, Dad, and a brain", she answered indignant, "A relationship is more than a feeling and it won't work out if you refuse to do the work. You and mom taught me that."

Shit! Not the relationship to learn romance from, truly not. "This is different."

"Is it?", she asked with a hint of provocation in her voice. "Because I don't see much difference. You had happy times with mom, too, but that clearly wasn't enough. You have to want the relationship and you have to do the work, because love ain't magic."

Marshall sighed. Why was his daughter so smart? She was only fifteen, she should believe that love was rainbow scented magic and would heal all wounds. Reality would bite her soon enough. "I want it, aight, I do want him but-"

"No but", Hailie interrupted him, "No buts or ifs, either you do or you don't."

"It ain't that easy", Marshall objected, feeling desperation rise up. Yes, the relationship with Nicolas was good and he wanted to try it, but he'd find too many ways to hurt Nicolas and he had his public image to consider, too, and … and …

"It is", she said confident, "Either you want to be with him or you don't, it is that easy. All the complicated things come later." She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pressed her cheek against his, kneeling by his side. "Allow yourself to be happy, Dad."

He stroked over her arm lovingly. "Thanks, Baby."