Disclaimer: I do not own Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt. I don't think I would even want to own it if I had the chance.

Author's Note: This takes place in the time period those thirty seconds after the finale allow and before the troll ending. So, you know, where some sort of normalcy and downtime could occur.

I hope you enjoy this one, and I'm sure you can guess the song it's based off of. Guns, sexual prowess, gambling… how can I not think of Panty?

Russian Roulette

January 28, 2011

Her… circumstances definitely made a guy like him think twice—some jumped in without thinking—but he thought about those circumstances almost constantly, tortured himself for hours with complications and what-if scenarios.

Here she was, standing in all her glory, with no shame or embarrassment, and he… quivering like a virgin on prom night.

They were together, had been for a while, but she played the game a little more dangerously than he ever had in his lifetime. He was waiting for the shot that would kill him, leave him in bits and pieces of gore splattered on every surface. Brief expected her to grin and move on if the situation arose; usually, he attempted to convince himself that Panty wasn't that cruel, but he wouldn't hold his breath. Her being faithful, to his knowledge, was the only golden record she held to a miraculous degree. Trust was an issue on both sides.

Her fidelity was probably aided along with the simple fact that he was a growing boy; and, in result, constantly horny. With a bombshell girlfriend—gasp, girlfriend—to suck his dick at any moment, before he even opened his mouth to suggest it, he was on cloud nine.

She hadn't called him "Geek Boy" in a long time.

Brief wondered what she was getting out this. Blind devotion? Adoration? Limitless sex? Who wouldn't want those things? But, really, what did she need from him so badly that she kept coming back for more? Even Stocking had remarked that it had been so long since she had brought a random jock or playboy around for an easy lay.

Brief should have been proud, but he was just waiting for the wire to snap. He was a good friend of Murphy and that law of his that he liked to throw around; all this good fortune would turn on him eventually and leave him out in the cold. He couldn't hope for this to be a "forever" thing, no matter how much… he caught himself already hoping.


With a flick of her wrist, dexterous fingers played a beautiful melody against his skin in a way he could never duplicate with his own hand. "Close your eyes," she whispered, her free hand walking up his chest. "Feel me."

He followed her instruction, just as he always did. Brief wasn't stupid, he wouldn't dare defy her—he didn't want to, actually, and that slightly worried him. Her hands, tongue, and mouth wrapped around his dick evaporated those worries, however.

"I play to win, Brief. You should, too," she murmured, smirking wickedly as she pinched his nipple. He made a small noise, one that she rather enjoyed—by the look on her face.

He wondered if he could handle this perverted game of Russian roulette much longer.

She was still playing this game of chance; she never lost, never got hurt, never even dreamed of losing, no matter who she was with. Losing was always on his mind. Forfeiting this dream would shatter him. Maybe, say, once during the whole debacle that brought them to this point, she could have doubted herself, but… could he survive with her?

Could he stay alive?


… click.