Sticks and Stones - SEVEN / ?
Author: kitty69lover
Rating: NC-17, violence, non-con, rape, perhaps kink and allusions to incest.
Category: Drama
Characters: International cast of characters. To be revealed as the story progresses. For Chapter Seven:Yoann Gourcuff, Daniel Agger, Gonzalo Higuain, Xavi Hernandez, Gerard Pique, Frank Lampard/John Terry, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Jose Mourinho, Pep Guardiola, mentions of: Didier Drogba, Mark Van Bommel, Guti, Javier "Chicharito" Hernandez, Sergio Canales, Javier Pastore
Length: long story
Summary: 6 boys ages 18 - 23 with behavior issues are sent by their exasperated parents to a Reeducation Camp set on a Pacific island, unbeknown to them that the methods of reeducation consist of beatings, slave work, sexual corrections, all set in a general climate of military-type discipline administered by a materialist manager and his staff.
Disclaimer: all in my head, just my imagination. Not true.
Authors Notes: 1. this fic is largely inspired [at least the start] by a movie whose intro I saw one late night, and whose name escapes me now, as well as by the movie Holes
2. You can claim any pairing you wish in the Pairing HQ thread - HERE
3. Scuse the lateness of this chapter. being on hols for a while meant i needed to get my creative juices flowing.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
Seven
05:45 AM
Yoann had been awaken for a while thinking. Even though initially he had thought it was best to be claimed, to have a stable partner, despite how horrible he might be rather than belong to everyone, a rag doll anyone could use, he was slowly beginning to change his mind.
He had no idea how this Zlatan guy was like and he hated the idea of getting stuck into something like that, especially that he intended to hook up with Daniel. He had no clue if being claimed meant total exclusivity and the last thing he want was to get the Dane in even more trouble.
And then there was Didier. That obviously had a thing for him and he seemed like a decent fellow, despite hitting Xavi (who probably deserved it). He didn't know the relationship between guards and officials and how it would be if Didier wanted him, if he would be safe, but something told him it would be the best of both worlds.
Protected from the abuse yet free to be with anyone else. His train of thoughts came to a sudden halt as the door crashed open and everyone jumped out of bed. Yoann had to follow suit and go outiside.
It was the first time he got to see the rest of the island's inhabitants, as they all rushed for a cold water and slippery soap shower and then for the most disgusting 8 fiber cereal breakfast he had ever eaten.
None of the boys spoke, as if there was a silence vow they had all undertaken and Yoann, who could not eat his gooey breakfast, with the cereal feeling chewy like cardboard and the milk a funny shade of blueish white, stared mildly at everyone.
It was only the guards barking orders, shoving the yellow haired boy with his face in the bowl to eat quicker, whacking the buzz cut kid for the same reason, that were making any noise. Yoann looked around and noticed that besides him, only the new boys, the other 5 were not really eating.
Cesc was picking at his food, until the guard he assumed was Mark told him to eat or he'd get slapped. Cesc then resumed eating, swallowing with such a disgusted look that it made Yoann almost chuckle.
Gerard was taking small spoonfuls and closed his eyes during chewing. Xavi was checking the others and eating fast, as if by getting the food into him faster, he wouldn't experience the dreadful taste. Daniel was staring at the bowl and had not touched it. Yoann was concerned what might happen to him if they forced him to go to work.
Gonzalo was the only one of the 6 that was paying attention solely to his food. Yoann was surprised, thinking that the gang leader would have more of an attitude. Shrugging, he finished his breakfast and in about 5 more minutes, seeing that almost everyone had finished or was about to, the guards rounded them and took them outside.
Two pickup trucks were there, prepared to take them to the mining area. Jose and the rest of the party from before made their way into the square. The boys aligned in a single file, Yoann and Javier supporting Daniel.
“I can assume you all have been kindly filled in regarding the customs around Bomboniera. So. Step forward, Xavi Hernandez, Yoann Gourcuff and Daniel Agger.” Jose said, eying the three.
Murmurs erupted, silenced by the guards that commanded that the rest of the boys got in the pickup trucks.
It was Xavi that was most aghast, despite his age, unable to control his tremble, as he supported Daniel on one side, Yoann awaiting smugly from the other. He had realised what he had hoped wouldn't happen, happened, but now his greatest worry was concerning Daniel.
The pickups departed before anyone talked.
“Seeing that Agger is not feeling well, nor able to stand, let's sort him out first.” Guardiola commented.
“Sounds good. Daniel, John here has requested your exclusive company. From now on, on your leisure time, you shall report to his cabin, don't worry, punk, you'll soon learn where it is.” he eyed the shivering Dane, that was feeling more and more nauseous.
“John, Frank, he's all yours.”
The two grabbed Daniel from Yoann's arms, who only reluctantly let go, and carried him towards one of the huts.
Maybe because of his ill condition, maybe because he knew it would happen and he had accepted his fate, but Daniel did not protest, he didn't actually say anything and allowed the the two men to take him away.
Yoann looked long after him, petrified at the idea of the unspeakable acts the two would do to him. Xavi remained silent. As sorry as he felt for the kid, he felt relieved he would not become Lampard and Terry's victim.
The two remained, side by side, as the remaining people walked past them, sizing them. Finally, Zlatan stopped and addressed Mourinho a few whispered words.
“Yoann, Zlatan would like to have a few words with you, please follow him.”
Zlatan gestured Yoann towards the most distant hut in sight and the Frenchman had no option but to do as told. He was relieved that Didier had left with the pickups and didn't have to witness this, so he gave Xavi one meaningful look and marched after the man known as Swedish.
Xavi stared at each and every one of the men remaining, trying to figure out which one of them had claimed him. Guti was with Sergio, it was clear that he had no business being in the square, he was present simply for formalities sake.
Guardiola had never claimed anyone and had no interest in doing so, despite the way he had looked at him the other day and how he was trying very hard not to look at him now. So it was only the devil himself, Mourinho, that would want him for himself.
He couldn't refrain the sudden shudder.
“And finally, the last one of our contestants. Xavi. The pervert. Well, son, if your reputation is any sort of true, I would have to admit I miscalculated when I allowed Pep here to take you under his wing....”
Had he heard correctly? Guardiola had claimed him?
“Don't be shy, Josep, take little Xavi by the hand and off you go. I shall not stand in the path of your happiness.” he said, with his trademark grin.
He thus dismissed them and nodding at Guti that departed towards his own hut, he strolled out of sight and towards the cafeteria, leaving Pep and Xavi to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.
~*~
Daniel was terrified. Despite his ill state, he was very aware that the worst of the predictions had come true. He was indeed, replacing Jesus as Lampard and Terry's bitch. His hurling impulses were getting stronger as he was pushed and pulled inside the cabin the two inhabited.
Fear of being brutalized took over and thoughts of wrestling himself out of their grip and running amok, even with them having guns and ready to shoot him were taking over, making his blood pump faster.
“I know you've heard stories about us. We know what the Jesus freak told you, but I can assure you....Danny can I call you Danny?, that we're both reasonable men.” Lampard's voice sounded obscene, scratching his ears.
His hands on him felt wrong, already abusive in the way they grabbed his flesh and he felt repulsed. He was gazing inside the room to locate a possible weapon he could use once he launched his attack, when he saw it.
His mind drowned Lampard's slur, focusing on the thin line of white dust neatly spread on the polished surface of the mirror-table.
“...if you're willing to cooperate, and that is, not make too much of a fuss, and accept what we do to you and with you...if you oblige us and keep your mouth shut regarding what happens when you're with us...then.....oh, I can see you saw it already.”
John laughed, pushing Daniel in the middle of the room.
“So, as I was saying. Right now, you're hurting. You're sweaty and not feeling well. But that bit of medicine would do you good, wouldn't it? It'd fix you, right?” oozing sleaziness, Frank's voice pierced Daniel's ears.
Daniel's eyes shone with fever. Yes, he would do anything Frank demanded of him and no, his grubby hand sneaking under his shirt to feel his taut abdominals was no longer disgusting, all they needed to do was ask him what they wanted in exchange of absolution.
He reached forward, still having not said a word.
“Not so fast, you crazy?” Frank pushed him and he collided with John, that caught him, only to push him to the floor.
Looking down at him, Frank grinned.
“Looks like we have a winner, John.”
“I hope he's good at sucking dick, Frankie, cause otherwise I don't find him that attractive.”
“I think he is. He used to give blowjobs in club restrooms to make money for blow. And he's got an amazing body.” Frank's excitement was obvious.
“He's too tell. I preferred David, or Jesus. Easier to manipulate. If he ever regains his health, Agger could take you out.”
“But look at him, does he look like a boy wanting to regain his health?”
“Please....please, I'll do anything, oh.....” Daniel moaned, finally managing to get up on his knees and advancing towards Frank.
“I know you must be feeling sick, but if you suck me good, that line is yours. Let's see what your mouth can do, Danny!” Lampard challenged him.
Daniel crawled on all fours and steadied himself on his knees in front of Lampard. Glancing once more at the line of coke, he pressed his open mouth to Frank's crotch, already swollen, licking through the rough fabric of his jeans.
Frank wanted to let the boy do his thing without aid, at least for his first try. He tousled his short hair without applying any pressure, his hand remaining on Daniel's head in a protective fashion as the youngster unzipped his trousers and pulled his half hard dick out. Licking along the length, Daniel closed his eyes and slid the head between his lips.
Taking in just the tip, he began sucking.
John wished he could keep the distance this time, he wasn't that keen on Daniel and he wanted to show his lover that he disapproved of his choice, much preferring the green eyed freak to this sloppy addict, but, as always, seeing Frank close his eyes and tilt his head back with that grin of his aroused him beyond any control.
He closed the gap between the two and pulling Frank into a hard kiss, he pushed Daniel's head into his lover's crotch, thus initiating the first of the games Daniel would get tangled in.
~*~
Yoann had followed Zlatan with a pinch of doubt rooted in the pit of his stomach. He could feel a really strange vibe from him and he wasn't sure how this whole thing would pan out. He was barely shuffling his feet towards their destination.
By the time Yoann reached the hut, Zlatan was already inside, sitting behind a big desk in a comfortable office chair.
“Take a seat, please.”
Yoann obliged without feeling the need to say anything.
“So, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zlatan Ibrahimovic. I was born in Sweden, but I am not Swedish, as you probably gathered by the simple analysis of my name. The guys love to call me Swedish, in their attempt to mock my Balkanic heritage, but I don't really mind. You can call me that as well, when you're with your pals - the other boys - and generally when in public, but when it's just you and me, I’d much appreciate it if you called me Zlatan.”
Yoann was mesmerized by the man's ability to speak so much without pauses for air. He nodded, looking him straight in the eye.
“Now, I'm pretty sure your roommates have filled you in on traditions and customs on Mordanona and that you were lead to believe that I am not the type of guy to take advantage of one of the boys or of my privileges, of my long relationship with Jose and the perks that it entitles me to. If you believed that, you couldn't have been more wrong.”
Yoann gulped. He knew he shouldn't have trusted that pair of dimwits that were his roommates. He watched as Zlatan's satisfied smile grew wider with terror clutching at his throat.
“But on the other hand, it is true that I don't like forcing people. So, I will indeed ask you if you want to be my “special friend” and of course, you are free to express yourself either way. But not for one second should you imagine that your negative answer would influence your situation as my close friend one bit. Be not mistaken, I have the power to make you mine with or without your consent.”
He leaned over the table to look closely at Yoann. The boy realised he was very much intimidated. He was sure that Zlatan could be very charming, and in a way, he was right now as well, only that his very precise use of words showed a man that was used to being in control and that was Yoann had been running from his entire life.
“I understand. Why ask then?” he commented, seeing that the pause in the older man's speech was lengthy enough to suggest he should reply something.
“To simply know where we stand. You see, I may not be one of Bomboniera's officials, you can't have failed to notice that, of course, but I am Jose's oldest sidekick on this island and his right hand man more than Terry would ever be. So, I could really have my way here, but I prefer to blend in and not attract as much hatred as the others. So, my dearest Yoann. If you agree, if you decide to be on friendly terms with me, and make no mistake, I do not require any sort of fake affection or, god forbid, love, then you could really have it great here.
Sure. There's the work you couldn't avoid, but apart from that, the rest could be a nice vacation in the sun. I could even get to shorten your sentence. Two years? Consider 6 months hacked off. But if you choose to say no, well then that changes everything. As I hope you have noted, that shall not exempt you from giving yourself to me, and on top of that, I can assure you I would make your life hell. It's all up to you. Please, tell me if you understand, you seem a little out of this and I need you to grasp the situation you are in before answering my question.”
Yoann was absolutely subjugated, Zlatan's relentless talking was almost hypnotizing and he realised that to Zlatan it seemed like he was staring unfocused.
“Yes, I understand perfectly.” he responded.
“All right. So now, I shall ask you the question. Tell me, Yoann, do you want to be my special friend?” he cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, Zlatan.” he paused to take in the effect the use of the man's name had on him, “I have a question myself, in fact, two questions....on whose answers my answer to your question relies.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“If I’m with you, can I have my own special friend, among the other boys?”
“Like I said, and please pay more attention when I'm talking next time, I do not require affection or love from you. Just polite behaviour and your body. So yes, of course, feel free to make friends.”
“OK. I was paying attention, I just wanted to make sure. My second query: if the boy I’m intending to hook up with is also taken by an official, would that get him in trouble?”
“That largely depends on who his superior is.....oh wait a minute....” Zlatan smiled highly amused. “There would be only one taken boy you could've grown fond of in such a short time and that is Agger. Well, if I've guessed correctly, I must tell you to be very very careful. Lampard and Terry are not normal.”
Yoann had blushed profusely seeing how easily he had been read but didn't say anything.
“OK, so. How about my answer.”
“i must say I find you very fascinating. I accept your proposal.”
Zlatan got up and circling the desk, stood next to the seated Yoann and shook his hand.
“Excellent, my boy. You shall not regret it. Now,” he said conversationally. “in one hour, you'll have to go to work, so what would you like to do in your last 60 minutes of personal freedom?”
Yoann pondered for a bit. He decided to show his eagerness in pleasing Zlatan.
“I could suck you off.” he said cheekily.
“Come on. I'm sure you can think of better things to do. I'm not going to decline if you're really poised, but you've got at least 18 months to do that, you might want to use your 59, oh now 58 minutes for something more personally fulfilling...”
“Then how about some proper breakfast....” Yoann could barely conceal his laughter.
“That is smart thinking. I'm sure Licha won't need too much convincing to prepare you a nice omelet.”
Grabbing Yoann by the shoulder, they exited the hut in good humour and strolled towards the cafeteria.
Rating: NC-17, violence, non-con, rape, perhaps kink and allusions to incest.
Category: Drama
Characters: International cast of characters. To be revealed as the story progresses. For Chapter Seven:Yoann Gourcuff, Daniel Agger, Gonzalo Higuain, Xavi Hernandez, Gerard Pique, Frank Lampard/John Terry, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Jose Mourinho, Pep Guardiola, mentions of: Didier Drogba, Mark Van Bommel, Guti, Javier "Chicharito" Hernandez, Sergio Canales, Javier Pastore
Length: long story
Summary: 6 boys ages 18 - 23 with behavior issues are sent by their exasperated parents to a Reeducation Camp set on a Pacific island, unbeknown to them that the methods of reeducation consist of beatings, slave work, sexual corrections, all set in a general climate of military-type discipline administered by a materialist manager and his staff.
Disclaimer: all in my head, just my imagination. Not true.
Authors Notes: 1. this fic is largely inspired [at least the start] by a movie whose intro I saw one late night, and whose name escapes me now, as well as by the movie Holes
2. You can claim any pairing you wish in the Pairing HQ thread - HERE
3. Scuse the lateness of this chapter. being on hols for a while meant i needed to get my creative juices flowing.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
Seven
05:45 AM
Yoann had been awaken for a while thinking. Even though initially he had thought it was best to be claimed, to have a stable partner, despite how horrible he might be rather than belong to everyone, a rag doll anyone could use, he was slowly beginning to change his mind.
He had no idea how this Zlatan guy was like and he hated the idea of getting stuck into something like that, especially that he intended to hook up with Daniel. He had no clue if being claimed meant total exclusivity and the last thing he want was to get the Dane in even more trouble.
And then there was Didier. That obviously had a thing for him and he seemed like a decent fellow, despite hitting Xavi (who probably deserved it). He didn't know the relationship between guards and officials and how it would be if Didier wanted him, if he would be safe, but something told him it would be the best of both worlds.
Protected from the abuse yet free to be with anyone else. His train of thoughts came to a sudden halt as the door crashed open and everyone jumped out of bed. Yoann had to follow suit and go outiside.
It was the first time he got to see the rest of the island's inhabitants, as they all rushed for a cold water and slippery soap shower and then for the most disgusting 8 fiber cereal breakfast he had ever eaten.
None of the boys spoke, as if there was a silence vow they had all undertaken and Yoann, who could not eat his gooey breakfast, with the cereal feeling chewy like cardboard and the milk a funny shade of blueish white, stared mildly at everyone.
It was only the guards barking orders, shoving the yellow haired boy with his face in the bowl to eat quicker, whacking the buzz cut kid for the same reason, that were making any noise. Yoann looked around and noticed that besides him, only the new boys, the other 5 were not really eating.
Cesc was picking at his food, until the guard he assumed was Mark told him to eat or he'd get slapped. Cesc then resumed eating, swallowing with such a disgusted look that it made Yoann almost chuckle.
Gerard was taking small spoonfuls and closed his eyes during chewing. Xavi was checking the others and eating fast, as if by getting the food into him faster, he wouldn't experience the dreadful taste. Daniel was staring at the bowl and had not touched it. Yoann was concerned what might happen to him if they forced him to go to work.
Gonzalo was the only one of the 6 that was paying attention solely to his food. Yoann was surprised, thinking that the gang leader would have more of an attitude. Shrugging, he finished his breakfast and in about 5 more minutes, seeing that almost everyone had finished or was about to, the guards rounded them and took them outside.
Two pickup trucks were there, prepared to take them to the mining area. Jose and the rest of the party from before made their way into the square. The boys aligned in a single file, Yoann and Javier supporting Daniel.
“I can assume you all have been kindly filled in regarding the customs around Bomboniera. So. Step forward, Xavi Hernandez, Yoann Gourcuff and Daniel Agger.” Jose said, eying the three.
Murmurs erupted, silenced by the guards that commanded that the rest of the boys got in the pickup trucks.
It was Xavi that was most aghast, despite his age, unable to control his tremble, as he supported Daniel on one side, Yoann awaiting smugly from the other. He had realised what he had hoped wouldn't happen, happened, but now his greatest worry was concerning Daniel.
The pickups departed before anyone talked.
“Seeing that Agger is not feeling well, nor able to stand, let's sort him out first.” Guardiola commented.
“Sounds good. Daniel, John here has requested your exclusive company. From now on, on your leisure time, you shall report to his cabin, don't worry, punk, you'll soon learn where it is.” he eyed the shivering Dane, that was feeling more and more nauseous.
“John, Frank, he's all yours.”
The two grabbed Daniel from Yoann's arms, who only reluctantly let go, and carried him towards one of the huts.
Maybe because of his ill condition, maybe because he knew it would happen and he had accepted his fate, but Daniel did not protest, he didn't actually say anything and allowed the the two men to take him away.
Yoann looked long after him, petrified at the idea of the unspeakable acts the two would do to him. Xavi remained silent. As sorry as he felt for the kid, he felt relieved he would not become Lampard and Terry's victim.
The two remained, side by side, as the remaining people walked past them, sizing them. Finally, Zlatan stopped and addressed Mourinho a few whispered words.
“Yoann, Zlatan would like to have a few words with you, please follow him.”
Zlatan gestured Yoann towards the most distant hut in sight and the Frenchman had no option but to do as told. He was relieved that Didier had left with the pickups and didn't have to witness this, so he gave Xavi one meaningful look and marched after the man known as Swedish.
Xavi stared at each and every one of the men remaining, trying to figure out which one of them had claimed him. Guti was with Sergio, it was clear that he had no business being in the square, he was present simply for formalities sake.
Guardiola had never claimed anyone and had no interest in doing so, despite the way he had looked at him the other day and how he was trying very hard not to look at him now. So it was only the devil himself, Mourinho, that would want him for himself.
He couldn't refrain the sudden shudder.
“And finally, the last one of our contestants. Xavi. The pervert. Well, son, if your reputation is any sort of true, I would have to admit I miscalculated when I allowed Pep here to take you under his wing....”
Had he heard correctly? Guardiola had claimed him?
“Don't be shy, Josep, take little Xavi by the hand and off you go. I shall not stand in the path of your happiness.” he said, with his trademark grin.
He thus dismissed them and nodding at Guti that departed towards his own hut, he strolled out of sight and towards the cafeteria, leaving Pep and Xavi to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence.
~*~
Daniel was terrified. Despite his ill state, he was very aware that the worst of the predictions had come true. He was indeed, replacing Jesus as Lampard and Terry's bitch. His hurling impulses were getting stronger as he was pushed and pulled inside the cabin the two inhabited.
Fear of being brutalized took over and thoughts of wrestling himself out of their grip and running amok, even with them having guns and ready to shoot him were taking over, making his blood pump faster.
“I know you've heard stories about us. We know what the Jesus freak told you, but I can assure you....Danny can I call you Danny?, that we're both reasonable men.” Lampard's voice sounded obscene, scratching his ears.
His hands on him felt wrong, already abusive in the way they grabbed his flesh and he felt repulsed. He was gazing inside the room to locate a possible weapon he could use once he launched his attack, when he saw it.
His mind drowned Lampard's slur, focusing on the thin line of white dust neatly spread on the polished surface of the mirror-table.
“...if you're willing to cooperate, and that is, not make too much of a fuss, and accept what we do to you and with you...if you oblige us and keep your mouth shut regarding what happens when you're with us...then.....oh, I can see you saw it already.”
John laughed, pushing Daniel in the middle of the room.
“So, as I was saying. Right now, you're hurting. You're sweaty and not feeling well. But that bit of medicine would do you good, wouldn't it? It'd fix you, right?” oozing sleaziness, Frank's voice pierced Daniel's ears.
Daniel's eyes shone with fever. Yes, he would do anything Frank demanded of him and no, his grubby hand sneaking under his shirt to feel his taut abdominals was no longer disgusting, all they needed to do was ask him what they wanted in exchange of absolution.
He reached forward, still having not said a word.
“Not so fast, you crazy?” Frank pushed him and he collided with John, that caught him, only to push him to the floor.
Looking down at him, Frank grinned.
“Looks like we have a winner, John.”
“I hope he's good at sucking dick, Frankie, cause otherwise I don't find him that attractive.”
“I think he is. He used to give blowjobs in club restrooms to make money for blow. And he's got an amazing body.” Frank's excitement was obvious.
“He's too tell. I preferred David, or Jesus. Easier to manipulate. If he ever regains his health, Agger could take you out.”
“But look at him, does he look like a boy wanting to regain his health?”
“Please....please, I'll do anything, oh.....” Daniel moaned, finally managing to get up on his knees and advancing towards Frank.
“I know you must be feeling sick, but if you suck me good, that line is yours. Let's see what your mouth can do, Danny!” Lampard challenged him.
Daniel crawled on all fours and steadied himself on his knees in front of Lampard. Glancing once more at the line of coke, he pressed his open mouth to Frank's crotch, already swollen, licking through the rough fabric of his jeans.
Frank wanted to let the boy do his thing without aid, at least for his first try. He tousled his short hair without applying any pressure, his hand remaining on Daniel's head in a protective fashion as the youngster unzipped his trousers and pulled his half hard dick out. Licking along the length, Daniel closed his eyes and slid the head between his lips.
Taking in just the tip, he began sucking.
John wished he could keep the distance this time, he wasn't that keen on Daniel and he wanted to show his lover that he disapproved of his choice, much preferring the green eyed freak to this sloppy addict, but, as always, seeing Frank close his eyes and tilt his head back with that grin of his aroused him beyond any control.
He closed the gap between the two and pulling Frank into a hard kiss, he pushed Daniel's head into his lover's crotch, thus initiating the first of the games Daniel would get tangled in.
~*~
Yoann had followed Zlatan with a pinch of doubt rooted in the pit of his stomach. He could feel a really strange vibe from him and he wasn't sure how this whole thing would pan out. He was barely shuffling his feet towards their destination.
By the time Yoann reached the hut, Zlatan was already inside, sitting behind a big desk in a comfortable office chair.
“Take a seat, please.”
Yoann obliged without feeling the need to say anything.
“So, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zlatan Ibrahimovic. I was born in Sweden, but I am not Swedish, as you probably gathered by the simple analysis of my name. The guys love to call me Swedish, in their attempt to mock my Balkanic heritage, but I don't really mind. You can call me that as well, when you're with your pals - the other boys - and generally when in public, but when it's just you and me, I’d much appreciate it if you called me Zlatan.”
Yoann was mesmerized by the man's ability to speak so much without pauses for air. He nodded, looking him straight in the eye.
“Now, I'm pretty sure your roommates have filled you in on traditions and customs on Mordanona and that you were lead to believe that I am not the type of guy to take advantage of one of the boys or of my privileges, of my long relationship with Jose and the perks that it entitles me to. If you believed that, you couldn't have been more wrong.”
Yoann gulped. He knew he shouldn't have trusted that pair of dimwits that were his roommates. He watched as Zlatan's satisfied smile grew wider with terror clutching at his throat.
“But on the other hand, it is true that I don't like forcing people. So, I will indeed ask you if you want to be my “special friend” and of course, you are free to express yourself either way. But not for one second should you imagine that your negative answer would influence your situation as my close friend one bit. Be not mistaken, I have the power to make you mine with or without your consent.”
He leaned over the table to look closely at Yoann. The boy realised he was very much intimidated. He was sure that Zlatan could be very charming, and in a way, he was right now as well, only that his very precise use of words showed a man that was used to being in control and that was Yoann had been running from his entire life.
“I understand. Why ask then?” he commented, seeing that the pause in the older man's speech was lengthy enough to suggest he should reply something.
“To simply know where we stand. You see, I may not be one of Bomboniera's officials, you can't have failed to notice that, of course, but I am Jose's oldest sidekick on this island and his right hand man more than Terry would ever be. So, I could really have my way here, but I prefer to blend in and not attract as much hatred as the others. So, my dearest Yoann. If you agree, if you decide to be on friendly terms with me, and make no mistake, I do not require any sort of fake affection or, god forbid, love, then you could really have it great here.
Sure. There's the work you couldn't avoid, but apart from that, the rest could be a nice vacation in the sun. I could even get to shorten your sentence. Two years? Consider 6 months hacked off. But if you choose to say no, well then that changes everything. As I hope you have noted, that shall not exempt you from giving yourself to me, and on top of that, I can assure you I would make your life hell. It's all up to you. Please, tell me if you understand, you seem a little out of this and I need you to grasp the situation you are in before answering my question.”
Yoann was absolutely subjugated, Zlatan's relentless talking was almost hypnotizing and he realised that to Zlatan it seemed like he was staring unfocused.
“Yes, I understand perfectly.” he responded.
“All right. So now, I shall ask you the question. Tell me, Yoann, do you want to be my special friend?” he cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, Zlatan.” he paused to take in the effect the use of the man's name had on him, “I have a question myself, in fact, two questions....on whose answers my answer to your question relies.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“If I’m with you, can I have my own special friend, among the other boys?”
“Like I said, and please pay more attention when I'm talking next time, I do not require affection or love from you. Just polite behaviour and your body. So yes, of course, feel free to make friends.”
“OK. I was paying attention, I just wanted to make sure. My second query: if the boy I’m intending to hook up with is also taken by an official, would that get him in trouble?”
“That largely depends on who his superior is.....oh wait a minute....” Zlatan smiled highly amused. “There would be only one taken boy you could've grown fond of in such a short time and that is Agger. Well, if I've guessed correctly, I must tell you to be very very careful. Lampard and Terry are not normal.”
Yoann had blushed profusely seeing how easily he had been read but didn't say anything.
“OK, so. How about my answer.”
“i must say I find you very fascinating. I accept your proposal.”
Zlatan got up and circling the desk, stood next to the seated Yoann and shook his hand.
“Excellent, my boy. You shall not regret it. Now,” he said conversationally. “in one hour, you'll have to go to work, so what would you like to do in your last 60 minutes of personal freedom?”
Yoann pondered for a bit. He decided to show his eagerness in pleasing Zlatan.
“I could suck you off.” he said cheekily.
“Come on. I'm sure you can think of better things to do. I'm not going to decline if you're really poised, but you've got at least 18 months to do that, you might want to use your 59, oh now 58 minutes for something more personally fulfilling...”
“Then how about some proper breakfast....” Yoann could barely conceal his laughter.
“That is smart thinking. I'm sure Licha won't need too much convincing to prepare you a nice omelet.”
Grabbing Yoann by the shoulder, they exited the hut in good humour and strolled towards the cafeteria.