Archive of Our Own ^beta

Meeting Rick for the first time, something niggled in the back of his head, like a nit. He reminded him of someone. An old friend of his from way back.

One of Vyvyan’s earliest memories was from his toddlerhood. His mum kicking him outside to play because he was “driving her up the fucking wall.”

“And don’t let me catch you playing with the stray cat, cause I won’t take you to the hospital if it scratches your eyes out, no matter how much you whinge. Got it?”

The stray cat was a tabby that everyone called ‘a nasty little bastard.’ Vyvyan reckoned it hadn't always been a stray. It’d once been pampered and spoiled but had since been abandoned. Now it was outraged it was no longer getting the attention it was used to. He’d chase it around, wanting to tug its tail, fur and ears and it would hiss, spit, scratch and bite. But if he left it alone it would follow him around, trailing at his feet, yowling at the top of its little lungs. It didn’t matter how much he ignored it, it still whined pitifully for attention. So, one day he forced himself to be gentle and gave it a pat on the head as softly as he could manage. It seemed confused for a moment but it wasn’t attacking him which was an improvement.

Then it began to purr, push into his little grubby hand for more pets. Let Vyvyan scratch it under the chin. Showed Vyvyan its little cat bum for some weird reason. Then flopped onto the ground and showed him its furry belly. When he tried to pat it on the stomach it immediately lashed out and hissed again. Still, he felt very special. The nasty little bastard that everyone hated was all soft and affectionate with only him. He felt like the chosen one.

Growing up, he didn’t think of the cat much but smiled whenever it crossed his mind. He felt that the creature counted as his first friend and he reckoned it was the reason he had a fondness for animals even today.

He suddenly realized it all at once after Rick had been following him around all day, yelling and screaming and shouting about nothing.

Maybe pat him gently and he’ll purr instead of yowl.

Mike was a pretty cool guy but he didn’t like it when he reached over and patted Rick on the face approvingly on the rare occasion Rick said something clever. At first, he thought, “I’m Mike’s favourite, he hates Rick just like me he should only be touching his face when he’s hitting him across the head.”

Then he realized, he’d felt just as upset when Rick slept in Neil’s bedroom after his own got turned into a roller disco. The morning after Neil and Rick had been hiding in a broom cupboard together and it made him so angry, he beat the shit out of both of them with a cricket bat.

He’d never wanted to beat the shit out of Michael before but sometimes he was tempted. One time Mike called him ‘Ricky’ and after catching Vyvyan’s evil glare, he laughed himself sick.

“Vyvyan I’d rather drink the bath water after Neil’s been in it,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

Or that horrible incident in the pub. It still made his blood boil to think about. They were having their Babychams and glasses of water when Neil blinked, looking around.

“There’s a bunch of people making woofing sounds outside?” he said.

Mike perked up in his seat, with a big smile. Everything that had happened next was a blur. It had been all happened so fast it was like being caught in a whirlwind. The doors smashed open and a boisterous blond man with a stupid moustache had gone bounding over to the counter.

“Barmaid!” he yelled at his mum. “I’ll give you something to pull!”

Then he grabbed her by the face and planted one right on the kisser. His mum didn’t seem to mind, though. They were snogging so enthusiastically they were nearly rolling over the counter together.

“Hey!” Vyvyan said outraged, as they continued to make out like horny teenagers. “That’s my mum, you bastard!”

Blondie pulled away from Vyvyan’s delighted mother and turned to him.

“I guess that makes me your Daddy then, son!” he shouted and then suddenly Vyvyan was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with his nose throbbing. It took him a few seconds to realise what had happened. He’d been headbutted. No one had knocked him over since he was twelve.

“Flashheart!” said Mike delightedly, putting his hand out for the blonde bastard to shake. “It’s great to see you!”

Flashheart shook Mike’s hand so vigorously he nearly broke his arm, before turning on the gormless Neil.

“Nice hair!” he exclaimed. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

Neil blinked as Flashheart did a hip thrust.

“We don’t have drapes sorry,” he said as dull as dishwater.

As Vyvyan sat up, blinking blearily, he felt his nose. When he saw the blood on his hand, he felt more flabbergasted than ever. He couldn’t believe it. Someone had made him bleed.

Flashheart set his eyes on Rick and was struck silent for all of a second. Rick was trying to hide behind Mike, overwhelmed by the chaotic energy.

“You must be a saint cause you’re almost as sexy as me and that’s a miracle!” he said. “Dig the pigtails, or as I like to call them, love handles!”

“Huh?” said Rick and his cheeks went red.

As Vyvyan tried to get up, Flashheart stole his seat, dragging it over to Rick’s side.

“Oi, that’s my sea…” he tried to protest and then the whole world went black.

A few moments later when he came to, he started to wonder if he was having a fever dream. He’d had his lights knocked out! This was too weird even for him. He was Vyvyan Basterd, he was the one supposed to be knocking people out, not the other way around. As he sat up, he saw the table was empty except for Neil.

“Wheres….wh-wh….” He stuttered, feeling rather shaken up. “Where’s Mike and Rick?”

“Mike’s in the toilet,” said Neil. “Mr Flashheart just lifted Rick up out of his chair and took him outside, I think he said something about ‘helping him with his virginity problem.”’

Vyvyan was at his feet in a second, a cold fist clenching around his heart. He was racing for the front door.

“Oh no Vyv,” Neil said nonchalantly behind him by the table. “They went out the fire escape way.”

As he bounded through the building, he saw Mike return from the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” he asked with confusion as Vyvyan raced passed him to the fire escape. There they were, Flashheart with Rick up against the wall, hand fisted in both pigtails to pull his head back, nearly sticking his entire tongue down Rick’s throat as Rick clutched at his arms for dear life.

Vyvyan punched Flashheart so hard in the head, he knocked him down the fire escape. He clanged on every step until he crumpled into the ground. When he managed to get back to his feet, he called up cheerfully;

“Call me anytime, baby, I’m always up for a bit of cherry harvesting!”

He did a few more hip thrusts and with one last woof, he was gone.

The door to the fire escape slammed open and Neil and Mike stepped out. Mike knelt beside Rick who had slid down the wall, cross-eyed and giggling like a schoolboy.

“Look Rick, I understand you’re desperate to lose your virginity,” he said, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “But stay away from Flashheart, he only wants one thing and it’s not sewing classes. Now let’s get to a chemist for a pregnancy test.”

“We only snogged a bit!” Rick protested as Mike helped him up. He needed to clutch at Mike’s arm for support, his legs shaking too badly.

“He got Rhiannon pregnant just by winking at her that means you’re probably seven months along,” said Mike.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if he hadn’t had run after Rick? What if fucking Flashlight had fucked him against the goddamned fire-escape? It made him want to spit poison. If he ever saw the blonde dickhead again, he’d throttle the bastard dead.

“Did the stars in your head hurt, Vyvyan?” asked Neil and he gave him a look like he’d asked what one plus one equalled.

“Of course it did,” he said incredulously. “It wasn’t my most painful piercing though.”

Neil looked interested.

“What was your most painful piercing then?”

“The one on the end of my knob.”

Rick dropped his spoon into his bowl of cornflakes with a clang. A lovely little shiver wracked through his body. Neil pulled a face like he’d been force fed medicine.

“Why’d you do that for?” Neil said, revolted. “How’re you supposed to do a wee?”

“It was just for a laugh,” he said with a shrug, feeling a tad uncomfortable with Neil asking about his cock.

“Who did it to you?” Rick asked from over at the table and his voice had gone slightly higher. His knees were pressed tightly together, both of his hands clasped in his lap.

“I did it to myself,” he replied. Rick shifted on the spot.

Rick had once accused Neil of listening in to him in the bath to which Neil asked bemusedly what he was doing in there worth listening to. Vyvyan sometimes wondered if it was purpose that Rick did all that stuff in the bath right next to Vyvyan’s bedroom.

He’d put his head under the blanket, pretend to be asleep but really, he was pushing his ear up against the wall so he could hear it better. The ragged panting and the wet slick sounds, the muffled gasp when he was done.

Rick sometimes yelled at him through the wall connecting the two rooms. So, he must have known. Must have known Vyvyan could hear him wanking in the bathroom.

After finally managing to just bite the bullet and get together, a strange calm descended over the house.

Down in the living room, the two of them were on the couch, watching telly after spending the morning underneath the bed sheets feeling each other up. Vyvyan couldn’t stop looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Bundled up in his dressing gown, eyelids drooping, pink dusted across his cheeks, his fingers tucked into his mouth. There were footsteps at the stairs and Rick glanced around.

“Hello Neil,’ he said. “I’ve made tea, it’s on the stove if you’d like some.” 

Neil stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“Are you feeling okay, man?” he said, quite alarmed.

“I feel great,” he replied. “How are you feeling today, Neil?”

Neil backed up into the counter, terrified.

“He’s possessed! Someone call a priest! It’s just like that movie! The one called Someone Call a Priest!” he yelped before bolting away.

Until very recently, Rick and Vyvyan had both thought that they could get pregnant if they had sex. Rick’s parents were just as prim and hoity-toity as he was and they did not talk about such things in their household. Vyvyan was a street kid who only knew about sex from what his other clueless mates whispered to him about.

Neither had a clue how homosexual sex was supposed to work at all. All Rick knew from his parents was that it was deviant and depraved and anyone who even thought about it should be put in an asylum. All Vyvyan knew from growing up on the streets was that getting found out doing that kind of stuff was a death sentence.

Apparently, it involved touching each other’s bums. They’d figured out all on their own that sucking each other off and rubbing their cocks together felt rather lovely. But the bum stuff, they couldn’t quite get their heads around.

“Maybe we should go to one of those clubs for homosexual youth at college and ask them?” suggested Rick.

“Or we can watch a film with poofs in it at the adult cinema?” said Vyvyan. It didn’t sit right with either of them though. It didn’t feel safe. They were still too afraid to hold each other’s hands in front of Mike and Neil. Only a month before they’d both been in complete denial that they were even poofy for each other at all. Yes, he’d learned to be a violent maniac to protect himself from the world but what about Rick? Rick was soft. Rick cried when he stubbed his toe that morning. Going around in public asking how gay sex worked would get Rick bashed, raped and killed.

What was the safest way to ask about gay sex then?

Mike wasn’t a poof as far as he knew but he was the smartest person in Vyvyan’s life. He knew stuff like telling the time and conning people out of their money. He wore cologne and neckties and smoked from a pipe and greased his hair back with Brylcreem. When Vyvyan thought of the stereotypical nuclear family father with a housewife and kids, the person who came to mind looked a lot like Michael.

So, he went and sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Mike to be finished with his business on the telephone. He was saying something about what band to get to perform in the back garden. When he hung up, he turned and said;

“Penny for your thoughts Vyv?”

Vyvyan nervously twiddled with his lighter, feeling the flame burn a nice little blister on the inside of his wrist.

“Do you know anything about how poofs do it to each other Mike?”

Mike blinked at him from behind his sunglasses.

“You heard of an adult cinema?” he asked him. “You can learn a lot from them y’know.”

“I don’t want to be caught in one of those,” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. He wondered if this was what a birds and the bees talk with your parent was supposed to be feel like?

Mike leaned against the banister, crossing his ankles in an effortlessly cool way.

“The way fellas screw, I’ve done to a chick or two,” Mike said. “It’s up the garden path.”

Vyvyan scrunched his face up.

“You mean up the bum? But that’s where you poo out of?” he said, baffled.

“Well, if a girl wants me to explore her dirt road, she’s been in the shower and not had a curry beforehand if you get my drift.”

“Doesn’t she poo everywhere still?”

“No,” Mike said. “If they’ve scrubbed up and not eaten anything too funky, they're as good as gold. Also, the front door can get itself wet but the back door needs a lot of help.”

“Yeah, I saw a twat once and it looked like it was full of snot,” said Vyvyan with a disgusted giggle.

“Charming,” Mike replied. “Just don’t go shoving anything up the back end without getting it ready first is all I’m saying. Use a bunch of lube. When you think you’ve used too much lube, put some more on. A few spots of blood down south is normal for anyone’s first time but just a spot or two not a splatter. It’s an awkward thing to explain to the emergency room, you get me?”

Vyvyan nodded then asked;

“It’s the girly one who gets it up the bum and the manly one puts it in, right?”

“That’s just an old stereotype, Vyvyan,” he told him. “What if the two fellas were both manly or both girly, eh? Some manly blokes like it up the bum and some girly blokes like putting it up there. All just depends on the person. You just try it out and decide for yourself what you like and don’t like.”

Vyvyan nodded again. Wait til he told Rick about this. Up the bum! Bloody hell! It sounded crazy. Mike started walking up the stairs to his room and gave him a pat on the shoulder as he passed by.

“Have fun,” he said.

“Thanks Mike,” he replied. As he ascended the stairs, he passed Neil who was walking down.

“What’s your favourite band Neil?” he asked. “Just I’m having trouble picking someone this week.”

“Oh well I really like Hole in my Shoe by Traffic…”

“You’re gonna have to get someone from this decade,” said Mike. “Think Cocteau Twins, Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees, ya know?”

Neil furrowed his brow.

“The only band from the 80s I like are the Sugarcubes,” he admitted. “Björk is so beautiful…”

Mike patted his elbow.

“Leave it with me,” he told him. Neil continued on down the stairs. As he passed him, Vyvan asked;

“What’s for dinner, hippy?”

“Lentil curry.”

He started making his way to the kitchen and Vyvyan jumped up, raced past him and ripped the entire stove off the wall, throwing it across the room.

“Uncool man!” said Neil. “How am I supposed to make dinner now?”

Rick once told him the worst thing his parents had ever done to him. They’d put him in on the cricket team because a boy needed to play sport and cricket was a good proper English game. He’d scream and cower hysterically whenever the ball was thrown in his direction and after every game his teammates would pummel him senseless. Rick begged his parents to not play and normally his mummy indulged his every whim but his crueller father told him stop acting like such a little poof and just play. So, Rick snuck off to go look at the record store with the Cliff Richard albums and none of his teammates complained about his absence.

Sometimes he just hated him so much. That was the worst thing his parents had ever done to him. Made him play bloody cricket.

He awoke one morning, hearing faint music down the stairs. Then Mike saying to the others in a stern voice; “hey let’s turn that off now lads, c’mon.”

“But it’s a classic!” Rick protested.

“Yeah, the Who were at Woodstock man!”

His stomach immediately turned to water and he swallowed the sick in his throat.

“Christ,” he hissed, pulling his blanket up over his head.

It wasn’t their fault, Rick and Neil didn’t know. It was a very strange trigger he must admit. The Who’s album Tommy made him feel ill.

Curling up he tried to block the lyrics out but he felt them wriggling into his head like a maggot.

“…I’m the school bully, the classroom cheat, the nastiest play-friend you ever could meet, I’ll stick pins in your fingers and tread on your feet…”

There was a scratching sound and he guessed Mike had managed to get the record off. Neil whined that they never got to listen to the songs he wanted as Rick stormed up the stairs in a huff. Rick had been a lot calmer since getting with Vyvyan but it was like patting the cat on the stomach, some things still made him lash out. Opening up the door to Vyvyan’s bedroom, he went burrowing into his bed beside him.

“Mike’s being so uncool,” he complained as he snuggled into his side, pushing his face into his chest. “Neil and I were bloody getting along for once, why couldn’t he just let us listen to the Who?”

Vyvyan didn’t answer. He couldn’t find his words.

“Vyvyan? Are you asleep?” Rick said and then huffed again. “I want to talk to you! Wake up, I’m bored, why do you have to be asleep for, c’mon! Oh typical! Just typical!”

Vyvyan turned around and Rick’s sulky look immediately changed as he caught the expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” he said. He leaned down and kissed the side of Vyvyan’s mouth. God, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Don’t worry about it girlie,” he said, giving Rick a little chin scratch. He hated how tight his voice was.

Rick stared up at him with his big blue eyes. He was just going to worry about it until he told him. He pulled Rick’s head back down into his chest, stroking his soft brown hair.

“Y’know how you told me the worst thing your parents ever did to you?” he said. “Some of the songs on Tommy just hit a bit too close to home.”

Then he grinned a little.

“A bit fucking creepy actually, like they fucking rummaged through my mind and made bloody songs about it,” he said.

“How so?” said Rick.

“I had a cousin exactly like the one in the song. I think he’s gotten into politics now.”

He’d been about six or seven years old when his mum had told him his second cousin was coming over for a few days. It was because his Great Aunt was in the hospital. She’d fallen down the stairs, apparently slipped on a roller skate at the top step. Dread had immediately sunk into his chest.

“I hate Alan tell him to piss off!” he said.

“Don’t fucking swear!” his mum snapped back. “Alan’s a little angel I don’t know what’s the matter with you, not liking him. I’d rather have him for a son then you. Anyway, if I do a favour for Aunty she might give me money, you know they’re loaded.”

When Alan showed up, he immediately rushed in and shoved Vyvyan off his bed.

“I’m the guest, I get the bed!” he insisted. “You sleep on the floor where you belong!”

“No!” he snapped, jumping on the twerp and hitting him over the head with a pillow. Alan spat and kicked and bit and Vyvyan punched and smacked and swore. His mother slammed through the door, in a rage.

“I can’t believe you’re fighting already!” she screeched. “Christ can you two lay off for a goddamn second?”

Alan immediately burst into crocodile tears.

“Vyvyan just attacked me for no reason!” he sobbed.

“Bollocks, you’re such a liar!” Vyvyan shouted back.

“I don’t give a shit, just shut up, for fuck’s sake!” his mother said before slamming the door closed. The two boys sat in sulky silence.

“You should be used to sleeping on the ground, cause you’re poor,” Alan spat at him venomously. “I have more money than you so you need to everything I say.”

Vyvyan stormed out of the flat before he punched his baby teeth down his throat. A few blocks over, he climbed into the back yard of the one kid in the neighbourhood with a treehouse. Elizabeth was another little brat he despised, but the treehouse was brilliant. Sure, just a plank among the tree branches but he liked it up there. For the last few days, he’d watched in rapt attention as a mother bird had made a nest among the branches. All out of twigs and feathers and bits of fluff and hair. Now it was sitting in the nest. He wandered when it was going to lay eggs. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something. Nearly jumping out of the tree, he looked down and saw Alan glowering over at him.

“Did you follow me?” he said down to his cousin in disbelief.

“I can do whatever I want,” Alan said back. “This whole street will probably be my property when I’m grown up. And if it’s not I’ll have It destroyed.”

He narrowed his eyes up at Vyvyan. Vyvyan didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to look down his nose at him even though Vyvyan was high above him in the tree.

“What were you looking at?” Alan demanded. Vyvyan shrugged.

“There’s just a mummy bird up here,” he said. “It built a nest and it’s gonna lay eggs…. hey! What are you doing?”

Alan had reached down, grabbed some pebbles and was trying to hit the mother bird with them.

“Stop it!” he shouted, shielding the nest with his hands. The mother bird was flapping its wings and twittering in distress. Then he yelped as one of the pebbles hit his wrist. Alan cackled.

“I hate you!” he shouted down at him. “I wished you’d fallen down the stairs!”

Alan was still laughing.

“Like I’d fall for my own trap,” he said. Then he started going up the steps to the plank. Soon he was sitting beside him.

“Wot?” he said, fighting the urge to shove him back down again.

“Mummy goes down the stairs at seven in the morning for her cup of tea and she never turns the lights on,” said Alan. “So, at six-fifty I put the roller skate at the top step.”

Vyvyan stared at him.

“I hope she’s dead,” said Alan as casually as though they were talking about their favourite comics. “If she doesn’t die, I’ll just save up as much money as I can and pay her to leave me alone.”

Then he looked down at the welt on Vyvan’s wrist.

“You’re hurt,” he said with a gleeful grin. “Let’s play doctors!”

Vyvyan eyed the steps in the tree, wondering if he could jump down and make a run for it.

“So just pretend maybe someone rich needs a lifesaving blood infusion and so we’re getting it out of you cause you’re useless and poor and the rich person is better off with it anyway…” said Alan. “I’ll find some glass so we can drain all your blood out and collect it in a bucket.”

“Why can’t you be the one who’s sick?” he snapped.

“Yeah!” said Alan. “Okay, I’m sick so I need to get out of all of my clothes for the examination…”

Vyvyan shot him a disgusted look.

“You’re yuck!” he said. “I don’t want to play with you, smellypants…”

They became aware of someone in the garden making their way over to them. Elizabeth, who he hated cause her dad had built her a treehouse and whose mother tied her hair up in pretty ribbons every day.

“Go away!” Vyvyan shouted at her.

“Yeah, piss off!” Alan parroted him. Elizabeth started climbing up the steps regardless.

“I’ll tell my mummy on you if you don’t let me play,” said Elizabeth.

“Your mum’s a slut,” said Alan at once. “And when you grow up, you’ll be one too, all you’ll be good for is lying down with your legs spread.”

Elizabeth and Vyvyan sent each other baffled looks. They were only seven years old. The extent to their insults was ‘fartbreath’ or if you were really angry ‘shithead.’ What was Alan on about?

“You talk weird,” said Elizabeth, with a frown, trying to figure out if she was supposed to be offended by what he’d just said.

“You can’t come in and play with us,” said Alan. “Unless you put up your dress and show us your cunt.”

Vyvyan felt more baffled than ever.

“What’s a cunt?” said Elizabeth with confusion. Alan sneered.

“You’re so stupid,” he said. “It’s what you piss out of.”

Vyvyan shifted uncomfortably on the spot. He wished Alan would go back home already. He didn’t like playing with him. Elizabeth was mortified.

“I’m telling my mummy you told me to show my private area,” she said. “You’re in so much trouble.”

She started to head down the stairs and Alan stared after her, face flat and blank. Then his leg shot out and he stamped on her hand as hard as he could. With a shriek, Elizabeth fell out of the treehouse, crashing to the grass below.

Alan cackled with laughter. Elizabeth got up in a daze.

“I hope you broke your dumb fucking leg you slut, slut, slut!”

Elizabeth shot him one last frightened look and ran off. Vyvyan glared at his cousin furiously before going over to head down the steps as well. If Elizabeth told her mum, Vyvyan wouldn’t be allowed in their back yard anymore. Alan just had to go and ruin everything.

Alan trailed behind him, saying horrible things and attacking whatever stray he came across. At their dinner of half frozen, half burnt fish fingers with tomato sauce, he stabbed Vyvyan in the leg with a fork under the table. Vyvyan twisted his arm in response. That night as they slept top to tail, Alan kept kicking him in the side of the face so Vyvyan shoved his foot into his nose.

It was the middle of the night when the phone rang. Falling asleep had been impossible with Alan tormenting him for hours. He couldn’t help but hear the conversation through the paper-thin walls.

“Aunty!” his mum said delightedly. “How’re you feeling?”

There was silence and Vyvyan slowly became aware that the other little boy in his bed had gone as still as a statue.

“You’re on the mend? That’s great, I’m glad! You’re coming to pick up Alan first thing in the morning? Oh, he’s been an angel, no bother at all. I’m sure he can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”

His mother put the phone down, muttered under her breath about how she’d better be getting paid well for babysitting and went back to bed. Vyvyan heard Alan’s breath hitch in his throat like he was trying not to cry.

“Mummy’s giving your mum a lot of money, y’know,” Alan said. “She never used to care about your mum at all, she used to call her just a by-product of her brother’s affair, let her rot with all the other commoners she said. Then she found out about you. Now they’re on the phone all the time. Haven’t you heard them?”

Vyvyan said nothing.

“She has a plan B if your mum doesn’t give you up,” Alan went on. “She said she’d call the authorities on your mum and get them to give you over. She was gonna spin a story about how because she’s rich you’d be better off with her.”

Then he nudged Vyvyan’s head with his foot. It was considerably less violent this time.

“Vyvyan when my mummy comes to take you away, do a runner alright? You’re better off on the streets.”

Vyvyan wondered if he was dreaming. Had Alan just done a nice thing for someone else? It didn’t make sense. He pulled his blankets over his head and curled up into a ball.

The next morning, Vyvyan hid in his room as his Great Aunt came to collect Alan.

“I’ve missed you sweetheart,” he heard her coo. “Come give your mummy a kiss.”

Rick sat up and looked around. Neil was playing the damn fucking album again in passive aggressive protest.

“I’m your wicked Uncle Ernie, I’m glad you won’t see or hear me, as I fiddle about, your mother left me here to mind you, now I’m doing what I want to…”

“Mum was really gonna sell me off to her,” he said, his voice all horrible and choked up. “She didn’t even care.”

Rick put his arms around him and kissed the tears off his cheeks. Downstairs they heard Mike storm into the loungeroom in an uncharacteristic rage and the smash of a record as he broke it against the wall.

Vyvyan had an appendix scar from where he’d cut it out himself as a teenager. He’d used a piercing gun on his nipples and his cock and his nose when he was drunk and there was old scar tissue still around them cause he hadn’t bothered to look after them properly. There were a bunch of cigarette burns on the inside of his arm from his Mum’s bastard kid hitting boyfriends. He’d done a blood pact with a bunch of other street kids when he was twelve, all of them slicing their hands up with broken bottles and the scar still ran over his palm. He had bites on his leg from breaking into places with vicious guard dogs. His skin was rough and calloused and covered in patchy blonde hair.

Rick’s body was sweet and soft. No scars or stab wounds or burn marks. All pale with pink nipples and brown thatches of hair in his armpits and at the base of his cock. His clavicle and hip bones were slightly prominent a contrast against the little bit of puppy fat around his stomach. He bruised easily, dark purples and yellowish greens at his waist and wrists. When he blushed, the red went down all the way to his chest.

“You have to move your hips, Rick,” Vyvyan said with frustration, sitting atop Rick’s cock. “You’re such a princess, making me to do all the work.”

Rick’s face was all red and scrunched up as Vyvyan rode him.

“Stop bouncing so hard, you’re gonna break it!” he squeaked back.

They became aware of the television downstairs, blaring the theme song to Fireman Sam. They glanced at each other with amused grins. Mike had a fondness for stop-motion cartoons.

“What a womantic soundtrack,” said Rick and Vyvyan. He’d known Rick for years now but he still found his rhotacism adorable. They kept on for a few minutes but both found they weren’t really enjoying the position. To Vyvyan it just felt like he was doing a big crap. Not exactly a sexy sensation.

It was Rick’s turn to try and he kept eyeing Vyvyan’s cock piercing nervously. Rick usually loved the piercing, teasing the silverware with his tongue, playing with it between his fingertips. He looked more apprehensive now.

“It won’t rip anything will it?” he said as Vyvyan got between his legs.

“I’ll stitch you up if it does,” he said. Rick didn’t look comforted. Vyvyan curled two fingers inside Rick’s lube slicked heat. Before, he’d had to guide Rick’s fingers inside him until Rick found his sweet spot. Rick hadn’t actually known the prostate existed and Vyvyan only knew about it from school. A few minutes into riding his fingers, Rick had complained that Vyvyan was purposely trying to fracture his wrist.

When Vyvyan brushed Rick’s prostate, he immediately squirmed and twisted beneath him, clutching at the studded cuff at Vyvyan’s wrist until the spikes left indents in his soft pale hand.  

“And now,” they heard Mike announce from downstairs. “A little something for Neil.”

Outside in the garden, a band had started to play.

“Oh wow!” said Neil, sounded genuinely happy for once. “Birthday by the Sugarcubes! Thanks, man!”

When Vyvyan pushed inside, he grunted at the burning hot heat and Rick’s face twisted up with discomfort again. Vyvyan wondered if they’d be that gay couple who stuck to blowies and hand-jobs, Rick didn’t seem to enjoy penetration, whether he was giving or receiving.

Slipping back outside of him, he heard him let out a tiny pained sound. A small, pale red streak ran down the inside of his thigh, mixed with the lube. Vyvyan felt a pang of panic in his chest. He didn’t want Rick to bloody bleed to death their first time fucking.

A spot of blood is normal just not a splatter, the memory of Mike’s voice said. It was a bit weird though, hearing Mike’s talk in his head in the middle of sex. He tried to push it away.

Taking a hold of his cock piercing, he undid it and put it on the bedside. The second time pushing in, Rick’s eyelids fluttered and he grabbed a hold of his cock, trembling all over.

“Better?” he whispered and Rick reached up to roll his nipple piercings between his fingers.

It was all clumsy and uncoordinated at first, but then Vyvyan had the bright idea of trying to thrust in time to the music outside. When he started doing that, he soon had Rick writhing and mewling, tossing his head back.

Get the cat to purr instead of yowl.

As he cupped Rick’s face, fingers sinking into his hair, he realized that he’d never actually taken a piercing out before, not for anyone. For some reason it struck him as romantic. Rick nuzzled into his hand and then came with a whimper on Vyvyan’s cock. The cum spattered against Vyvyan’s stomach and he felt himself throb inside him. His breath got all short and raspy and his come spilt down Rick’s thigh.

Resting his weight down on top of him, he pressed his mouth into Rick’s neck, feeling his pulse. He scraped his teeth against the delicate skin, felt him squirm beneath him.

“Kisses…” Rick managed to demand in a breathy voice. Vyvyan felt the affection warm in his chest as he did as he was told, peppering kisses all over his face.

“You liked it then girlie?” he said, giving his chin a little scritch.

“It was okay,” said Rick with a grin, chest heaving slightly. “I think we need to practice though.”

Lying down beside him, he couldn't believe they'd waited so long for this. He felt happy to practise with him every night for the rest of their rotten lives.