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Squeeze My Lemon

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“Where is he.”

“This way, sir…” Banani leads the way down the dungeon hallway, carefully avoiding eye contact with his superior. The larger fruit had been on edge ever since Carrot became the new monarch of Ávaxtakarfan instead of him, and Banani didn’t want to do or say anything to piss him off. His peel bruises too easily.

Banani stops in front of the farthest cell and stares at the floor. “We found him poisoning the Jarðvegi outside the palace. He was masquerading as a pomegranate.”

“Thank you, Banani. Give me the keys and that will be all.”

Banani glances up sharply. “Sir you can’t…” His words die in his throat at the spine-chilling glare he sees directed at him. “Y-yes, Sir,” he says, quickly averting his gaze. Banani hands over the keys and scurries down the hallway, exiting the passage quietly.

“So you’re the big cheese around here now, huh? Oh. Excuse me. Big fruit.”

Immi Ananas narrows his eyes and glares at the snickering prisoner. “Not quite.”

“Ah, yes that’s right… I heard about that cute little vegetable. Shame," the prisoner says with pouted lips. “Love the new get-up by the way, I know of another fruit who likes to show off his arms like that. The hat’s a nice touch.” Glanni Glæpur smirks up at the pineapple from where he’s propped up against the back wall of his stone cell. His pink costume is muddied and torn in a few places.

Immi unlocks the door and enters the cell, steaming with anger. “We’re confiscating your disguise as evidence, Glæpur. Give me your hat and coat,” he demands.

Glanni makes a mocking look of surprise. “You want my clothes off? Oh, Immi, all you ever had to do is ask.” He takes his time standing up and removing the articles of clothing, revealing a shiny black catsuit underneath his hot pink accessories. “Although, I would’ve preferred to have been taken out for dinner first…”

“Shut up.” Immi glares into the man’s eyes, pointedly ignoring the revealing skintight suit under Glanni’s costume. “Have you no remorse? No shame?” He snatches the clothes away from the crook and turns up his nose. “You poisoned our seedlings’ Jarðvegi. You put my peoples’ lives in jeopardy.” He scowls down at the slightly shorter man. “You are a criminal and you are going to be punished to the fullest extent of Ávaxtakarfan law.”

Glanni crosses his arms, amused at the pineapple’s attempt at intimidation. “Punished? Oh, can I make a request?” His eyes trail down the behemoth fruit, hungrily staring at his veiny arms and hulking muscles. “Mm, I bet that scepter would sting…” He smirks up at Immi through his lashes, pleased to see a yellow-orange blush spreading over the fruit’s cheeks despite his look of angered frustration. “Are you trying to compensate for something, Immi baby? You sure love to swing that rod around…”


Glanni gasps and raises a hand to his stinging cheek. “Oh, I was right…” he chuckles suggestively, “that does feel good.”

“You’re despicable,” Immi spits. He turns to exit the cell but is yanked backward by the neck.

Glanni stands on a corner of Immi’s long cape with his black high-heeled boots. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, fruity. I’m not done with you yet.”

Immi seethes with rage. He tries to pull his cape free but quickly loses his patience and precarious composure at the sight of a playful smile on Glanni’s face. He drops the pink costume and lunges at the man, throwing them both back against the far wall. He growls at the man as he pins him against the stone, hands fisted in that stupid catsuit.

Glanni grunts at the sudden assault, but smiles at the feeling of Immi’s scepter pressing into his chest. “Ooh, what are you gonna do, pineapple? You gonna hit me again?” he chuckles seductively.

“Don’t you ever shut your mouth, Glæpur?” Immi growls, pushing the man into the wall with all his strength.

“Mm, why don’t you shut it for me?” Glanni murmurs, licking his teeth and grinning like a cat.

Immi’s chest feels tight. His breath catches in his throat at the feeling of Glanni’s erection pressing into his thigh and his heartbeat hammers in his chest, knowing he has all the power in this situation, that there is no one else here to see…

Glanni slides his hands up Immi’s back under his cape. He bats his eyelashes and whispers, “You know… I heard you’re the best, Immi…”

“I am,” Immi growls, pressing forward to kiss Glanni roughly. He shifts his grip on the catsuit to press the scepter across Glanni’s chest horizontally with one hand, and close his fingers around Glanni’s neck with the other.

Glanni’s hips snap forward suddenly at the feeling of his access to air cut off. He moans into the sloppy kisses as he feels his chest begin to burn and pulls Immi against his body as hard as he can.

Immi grinds his own erection into Glanni’s boney hip and licks into the sweet taste of Glanni’s hot mouth. Their tongues slide together and they groan obscenely.

Glanni’s eyelids flutter at the pricking feeling in his head, vision going fuzzy from lack of oxygen. He thrusts his hips faster and starts to lose rhythm with another loud moan. Immi bites his lip and he falls over the edge, eyes rolling back in his head in his ecstasy.

Immi lets go of Glanni’s neck and steps back, chest heaving. He furrows his brow, looking down at the man sliding down the wall gasping for air with a dreamy expression.

Glanni coughs, falling to his knees. “Oh, Immi baby, it’s been too long…” he croaks through a scratchy throat. He holds Immi’s hips weakly and smiles upwards. “Want me to take care of that for you, baby?” He gazes lovingly at the bulge in Immi’s pants.

Immi glances behind him, listening for any presence, but only hears persisting silence. He curls his lip at his own blush, glares downwards and starts unbuckling his belt. “Get it over with,” he mutters.

Glanni finally puts that mouth some good use, working on Immi from underneath the curtain of his cape. Immi leans his forehead against one of his arms braced against the wall and tries to focus on not thrusting forward, holding the back of Glanni’s head with his free hand. He winces and grunts at his own release minutes later, sighing at his feelings of shame. “We can’t keep doing this…” he says as he rebuckles his pants.

Glanni stands on shaky legs and wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Immi baby, you can do whatever you want.” He sways forward and rubs his thumb along Immi’s flushed orange bottom lip. “Immi hann er bestur…” Glanni murmurs.

Immi grabs Glanni’s face, squeezing his cheeks between his thumb and fingers. “That isn’t going to work this time, Glæpur. You’re going to go to prison once and for all,” he snarls.

Glanni furrows his brow, pulling Immi’s hand away. “We’ll see about that, pineapple.”

Immi shoves him back and swoops down to grab the pink costume. He slams the cell door closed and locks it with another glare.

“See you around, Immi baby…” Glanni calls as Immi stalks down the hallway. Immi ignores him and exits the passageway without another word.



“Ah… um. Sir.”

Immi sighs and hangs his head. “What.”

Banani holds his hands behind his back and stares at the floor in shame. “The prisoner… he escaped. Sometime in the night… The posted guard was found unconscious this morning outside the empty cell…” He trails off timidly, eyes squeezed shut at the expectation of incoming blows.

Immi just pinches the bridge of his nose and smiles quietly to himself. Glæpur will be back. He always comes back.

For some strange reason, it’s as if he likes being caught.