Meet my fucked up little boy
Story time/drabble time, and it's a public post. Keep it clean, will ya?
Meet my rp-character Tommaso Salvatore, nicknamed Tomato, only child of Andrea McCullough and Stefano Salvatore. I’ve chosen not to add any physical descriptions in of this lad, so if you’re curious about him then ask me. For those of you that are curious, the beginning of this takes place approximately six years before the Tomato that I normally write of exist. This is a bit of… experimenting, from my side.
Definitely not worksafe.
”Play with me.”
The words whispered seductively into his ear, followed by a quick nibble at his earlobe. Hands traveling up underneath his shirt, stroking, caressing, a warm body pressed tightly against his back.
Tomato closed his eyes and swallowed, fighting his treacherous body.
“I have to go.”
Despite his serious tone of voice he moved nowhere, and after maybe a minute of waiting his partner took the lack of movement as an invitation to trail light kisses down his neck and shoulder, silently coaxing him to stay just a little longer. One of the hands trailing just a bit lower, feeling the edge of the ribcage and down towards his flat abdomen, each touch and caress setting his skin on fire. Still Tomato wouldn’t do anything but just sit there on the edge of the bed, hair hanging down into his face, furiously biting his lower lip and fighting the shudders that racked through his body.
His shirt being unbuttoned, lips replacing hands as he found his lover straddling his lap, so close that he couldn’t do anything but arch his back
This wasn’t happening. No. The sensations… ohgod.
“Please.”
Movements instantaneous. Before he knew what he was doing he found himself staring down at a delicately sculpted face, eyes that were wide as saucers and so blue and deep that he thought that he would drown if he kept on staring into them. That petite body pressed down by his weight, a pair of hands splayed above the pillow in an instinctive sign of submission. It all felt so right, how could he ever have doubted this?
“Please.”
Instinct at its best, just doing what felt right. Shutting out the doubts, questions and hesitation, letting his body rule over his mind. Later, he told himself. He’d think about it later. This wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be. Ohgod, more. More, more, more, more.
---
Stumbling home in the wee hours of dawn, clothes and hair in great disarray Tomato entered his dingy apartment. What had he done? Oh God, why?
Falling down on his knees, trembling from something he couldn’t quite identify he held himself, not moving for hours. It had felt so good, but it was so wrong. Why had he done it? Why had he allowed himself to follow the other? What would his father say if he knew? What would she say if she knew?
Oh fuck.
He’d go to hell for this.
Some time, he didn’t know when, but the sun stood high in the sky, he felt a tiny hand on his shoulder. Startled he looked up, wincing because his body was stiff from not moving in such a long period of time; staring into the face of the only person he’d given a key to his apartment to.
Uh-oh.
“Ne, Nii-san didn’t come home last night. I was so scared!” He gazed into a face similar to his own, though her mother’s Japanese heritage had taken a greater part in her genetic coding than it had in his. Not to mention that she was several years younger and still round with that pre-teen fat that children eventually grew out of. Deep brown eyes stared at him, filled with worry and tears even though she knew nothing of his inner turmoil, and she kept on biting her lower lip.
“What? You were here alone last night? I thought you wouldn’t come over until tonight?” He didn’t have to fake the worry he felt, for the moment her pain was more important than his own. Without thinking he opened his arms and drew her in for a hug, and she threw herself at him, clutching at his clothes as if he were her lifejacket.
Wordlessly he held her shaking frame, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. Quietly he just petted her hair and murmured things of that he wouldn’t run away like he had done again.
A lump formed at the back of his throat. God. What had he done? How could he ever have…?
Shaking his head to himself he eased his hold of his sister and pulled away a little, though she furiously held on to him, but relented after a few moments. Managing a half-smile he looked at her, wiping away her tears and caressed her chin.
“I’m sorry I made you worry, sis. It won’t happen again.”
No, it most definitely won’t. But I want it.
She smiled bravely, and he affectionately ruffled her hair, ignoring her pouting face as he did so. “How about that we cook up some breakfast, ne?”
“Niiiiii-san!” she wailed. “Stop ruffling my hair! I’m not a kid.” Still, she smiled as she ran towards the kitchen, and he heard her banging the cupboards for pots and pans. She’d want pancakes with jam, and had to bring out a chair to stand on. Really, he didn’t need to join her in there, she knew the recipe by heart, but still she would always make her big brother tag along.
Tomato shook his head to himself. It was time to ignore his own problems and be the big brother that she needed.
Rising from his still kneeling position he fought to hold back a gasp of pain. The pain ran through his entire body, and not all of it came from sitting down for such a long period of time. It made him recall everything about last night, and he froze in his movements from where he’d started to tug off his leather jacket, and he ran into the bathroom and threw up everything he’d had last night until that all that was left was bitter gall and tears.
Gasping for air he rested his sweaty forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the background he heard his sister singing while fixing pancakes. God, he would never be clean. He could see his precious sister’s face twisted in a grimace of disgust and loathing, could see everyone turn away in shame from him. She’d been the only one who had accepted him for who he was, never doubting him, but this… unforgivable.
He was a freak.
But still he wanted more. Even if he would be hated. Even if everyone would turn from him. Even if it cost him everything. Please. Ohgod. More.
---
Friday night. His younger sister safely at home watching movies with her parents. Tomato was out clubbing yet again, letting his body sway to the music. Not caring about anything, just letting loose. He wouldn’t think, wouldn’t care what happened. Everything was okay, as long as he kept it here in the club. Only those who knew would come here. And nobody he knew would ever come here, and they didn’t have to know, right?
Then why was his heart beating so furiously?
The rhythm of the music changed, and Tomato forced himself to turn his depressed mood away. It had been four months since the first time he had been here, but he couldn’t keep away. He felt like the moth inevitably drawn to the light, where it would burn until it died. But if showing his true self out in the clubs would be the only place he could feel real, then so be it. If he could let go of his responsibilities for but just one moment… please.
Ah. Target acquired.
Blonde, piercings here and there. A bit on the taller side, muscled, though not overly so. Pale skin.
Mmm. Yum.
---
“Play with me.”
A different face, a different location. Home. The voice wasn’t the same as the first time, this time it was Tomato who uttered that phrase, it was Tomato who let loose.
Strange how one could go from denying everything to coming to terms with reality. It had been one long year, and he had long since thrown away his cross. Still, he was still somewhat hiding, and he was more than well aware of it.
“Ah!” his lover arched under his touch, making the most exquisite sound as he moved his hand up along the left pectorals. Hmmm… I wonder… a repetition of the movement elicited the same response. Ohohoh. Interesting.
The sound of a the door creaking went past his head, but the sharp intake of air and the half-choked “Nii-san?” made his head fly up so quickly that his neck cracked noisily.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.
The words were a roaring mantra that ran through his head as he watched his younger sibling run away, the door slamming shut behind her.
“Yuriko? Ohshit, wait!”
Why would she wait, asshole? You’re in bed with someone; even though she might be young she’s not stupid.
His inner voice kept on screaming this at him as he quickly threw on clothes, intent on catching up with her and making sure that she got home safely. His inner self kept on shouting insults about that he should have known that this would happen, that since she always came over at such odd times no matter what her parents said or did and he never had said anything about it, it would be inevitable.
The streets were cold. Tomato didn’t really notice though, all he saw was the frame of his younger sister as she raced away into the crowded streets, his heart in his throat as he watched cars screech to a halt mere inches from her. He took off, using all of his speed and agility to get past the cars and people to reach her.
Finally he caught her left arm, and drew her tightly in towards him.
“Baka no Nii-san! Hanase! Hanase! HANASE!” She kept on shouting in Japanese, forgetting her English in her upset state. Still, he wouldn’t let her go, just held on as he gently guided her to the sidewalk, ignoring all the people that stared at them.
“Shhh… it’s all right, sis. It’s all right.” Afraid of hurting her he let her go, still alert on if she’d run off once more, but he hadn’t needed to worry. Instead of running she balled her fists and pounded on his torso, and though she was eight years his junior she could still pack quite a punch. It didn’t hurt though. Not as much as it hurt inside of him. God. She had turned against him. He deserved it, though. No wonder.
“Nii-san lied to me! You said you’d only love me! Demo, Nii-san doesn’t even like girls. I hate you!”
Hanging his head Tomato took his sister by the hand, not answering her accusations. How could he have done so anyway? How could he have explained what his body craved, even if it was forbidden where he came from?
“Come on, let’s get you home. It’s cold.”
She wouldn’t budge, though, just kept on shouting at him and beating at him. All the time tears streamed down her face.
Tomato did nothing, just stood there as she cried and hit him. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her and take away her pain, but there was no way he’d be able to do that. He’d let her down in the worst way possible. He just couldn’t protect her anymore.
Finally she collapsed in an exhausted bundle, and he scooped her up in his arms, though she weakly fought against him before yielding to him, and he walked the long way to where his father and his wife lived. By the time he arrived there Yuriko was fast asleep, cuddled in against his chest, even though she’d occasionally whimper in her sleep.
Leaving her there that night was the hardest thing he had ever done, and as he stared his father in the eye since God knows when, he made the only request that he’d ever ask his father for.
“Send away Yuriko. I don’t ever want to see her face again. If she ever turns up at my doorstep again I will call the police.”
With those words he turned to leave, however, a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Boy, I’m not stupid, and neither is your sister. She won’t buy that bullshit, and you know it. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Shrugging off his father’s hand Tomato snorted, his throat closing as he fought to be brave and cocky. “She caught me in bed with a man… How do you like that, dad? Your son is gay.” He stretched out the words deliberately, finally going so far as to accentuate them out one by one. “I. Like. Cock.”
He stared his father in the eye for several minutes, eyes defiant even though inside his heart kept on breaking, and the silence that stretched out between them grew longer and longer.
“I have no son.”
Tomato bowed his head so that his hair hid his eyes, his lips crooked into a twisted smile. “I thought so.”
This time there wasn’t anyone to stop him as Tomato walked away.
“Sayonara, imouto.”
In case anyone’s curious, Tomato is half-Italian, half Irish. Yuriko is half-Italian, half-Japanese. Tomato moved out when he was fifteen since he got into a school on the other end of town, and the traveling times would be too much for him to cope with. This is kind of ironic, since his (half)sister came over maybe two-three times each week, every time without pre-announcing her visits. Finances? Ah, Tomato’s working part-time in a movie-store just down the block from where he lives.