(no subject)
Title: PREACH WITH CONVICTION Part 1a
Fandom: RPS
Characters/Pairing: Brendon/Ryan (in later chapters). For now Ryan/?
Prompt: Lust.
Word Count: 1,300, including lyrics: A Murder of One, by Counting Crows (amazing band).
Rating: NC-17. This story is only going to get worse...
Disclaimer: This is about as real as my imaginary friend Bob. Say hi, Bob.
Description: He only wants to save them from a thousand tortures after death. Really. He’s completely selfless - at least, that’s how he sees it. He just needs to teach them a few... Lessons.
Author's Note: Please, please comment. I always get worried that my writing's not good enough :(
PREACH WITH CONVICTION
Chapter 1: Lust
Part A: What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
The boy stood on the kerb, arms coiled around his slender midriff, hoping against hope to maintain some sort of warmth in the bitter night air. The winters were always the worst, Ryan recalled, shivering slightly as he swatted a snowflake from his eyelashes. He hated it, this, all of it, with a vengeance. The (severe lack of) clothing he was forced to wear; the sneering (and sometimes even pitying) looks he received from passers-by, but most of all, his... Clients. He loathed their smell - that pungent old-man stench of booze and sweat and cum smeared on the legs of their pants. The smell that seared Ryan’s nostrils as he fell to his knees before them, in total submission.
Yet this was the only reliable source of income Ryan seemed able to obtain in this world. And he was almost half way there now. If he could just get enough money to get back to college, and then... Something, anything with the rest of his life. He shook his head fiercely. He was not going to end up as some junkie-wino-creep, hanging around on street corners and back alleys, depending on other people’s charity in order to survive. No. He wanted a reason to live. He wanted to be... Something. Anything. Anything but this...
And yet, there was something unusual about tonight, something just a little... Off. The call, that stupid call - that was probably all it was.
“Ryan Ross speaking,” he had half-purred, half-whispered into the mouthpiece, in that voice that so pleased the customers. “How may I be... Of assistance?”
Spasms of heavy breathing then rushed through the earpiece. Just slightly unnerving. A whirr of machinery and... And something almost resembling a scream in the distant background. Fucker probably had his television turned up too loud.
“Hello?”
“Mr Ross.”
The phone line had cracked furiously, buzzing in and out of focus, until:
“I should very much like to meet you tonight. The bridge. Midnight. And, I assure you, it will be well worth your time.”
And then the click of the receiver being put down. And then a silence, except for the drum roll of Ryan’s heartbeat, pounding incessantly in his ears. But still, clients meant money, and Ryan would do anything for money.
And so here he was. The old bridge, at 11:59. Although all he wanted to do was to just go home, curl up in the soft haven of his blankets and pretend that he was innocent again. Maybe even pretend that someone loved him.
A clock began to chime, somewhere in the distance, and Ryan half-smiled to himself. The sooner 12 o clock rolled around, the sooner he could get tonight’s procedures over and done with.
A car rolled up. Nice. Very nice. Too nice to be here by chance. The right-hand window rolled down a few inches, and Ryan peered inside to get a good view of the man’s face, but no such luck. However, the figure motioned to the passenger seat, and Ryan swung his legs hurriedly into the car, relieved to be out of the cold. He saw the face smile as he began to drive once more, stopping in a deserted estate.
“Where do you want me?” Ryan breathed. He hated to admit it, but he really did get some sick sort of pleasure from the whole situation sometimes. Just allowing yourself to be completely controlled by a complete stranger, well... It was hot.
Ryan slid to the floor at the stranger’s knees, gazing up at tonight’s ‘master’ with eyes portraying faux innocence. A laugh erupted from that wide, wide smile, cold and empty. Expressionless.
“You really are far too beautiful to be doing this, you know.”
Ryan was about to murmur, “Oh I know” as some sort of response, but suddenly the stranger’s pants were around his ankles, and Ryan’s hot, wet little mouth was pressing kisses, snaking up his thighs, and then... Those lush, pink lips suddenly engulfed the pulsating organ in front of them; licking and sucking and running his teeth over and under the flesh again and again, before taking him fully into his mouth expertly. Until he felt a sharp pricking sensation in the back of his neck. And-and he came to the realisation that this fucker has gone and fucking drugged him with some shit while he was sucking him off! Oh shhhhhhiiiiiiiittttttt.
Ryan gasped and began to choke on his attacker’s rather large member as his body began hopelessly to shut down. He was going to die. He was going to die.
And then the ‘Master’ pulled him roughly by the scruff of his ripped fishnet shirt, watching the tears still dribbling down his cheeks with an odd sort of affection.
“Poor kitty,” Pete cooed. “All alone and scared where no one can even hear you scream.”
And he propped Ryan’s unconscious form into the passenger seat, where his head lolled pathetically into his lap. Pete chuckled softly, pulling the boy’s head nearer and stroking his hair almost lovingly as he began to sing an eerily off-key melody under his breath, as the car rolled along under the streetlamps.
*
Blue morning, Blue morning
Wrapped in strands of fist and bone.
Curiosity, Kitten, doesn't have to mean you're on your own.
Your can look outside your window,
He doesn't have to know.
We can talk a while, baby.
We can take it nice and slow.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Well, are you happy where you're sleepin'?
Does he keep you safe and warm?
Does he tell you when you're sorry?
Does he tell you when you're wrong?
I've been watching you for hours.
It's been years since we were born.
We were perfect when we started...
I've been wondering where we've gone.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Well, I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows.
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for girls and four for boys,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.
There's a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin.
Yeah, when you open up your wings to speak
I wish you'd let me in.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Open up your eyes
You can see the flames, flames, flames.
of your wasted life.
You should be ashamed.
Yeah, you don't want to waste your life, baby.
You don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
You don't wanna waste your life, baby.
You don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Oh, you don't wanna waste your life, now babe.
I said you don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Oh, you don't wanna waste your life, now baby.
Oh, you don't wanna, you don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Change, change, change.
Change.
Change.
Change.
I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I will walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I will walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am fettered by the moonlight.
Change, change, change.
*
Pete's fingers slipped slightly on the steering wheel.
“I’ll help you change, darling,” he whispered softly. “Hell’s no place for beautiful boys like you...”
Fandom: RPS
Characters/Pairing: Brendon/Ryan (in later chapters). For now Ryan/?
Prompt: Lust.
Word Count: 1,300, including lyrics: A Murder of One, by Counting Crows (amazing band).
Rating: NC-17. This story is only going to get worse...
Disclaimer: This is about as real as my imaginary friend Bob. Say hi, Bob.
Description: He only wants to save them from a thousand tortures after death. Really. He’s completely selfless - at least, that’s how he sees it. He just needs to teach them a few... Lessons.
Author's Note: Please, please comment. I always get worried that my writing's not good enough :(
PREACH WITH CONVICTION
Chapter 1: Lust
Part A: What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
The boy stood on the kerb, arms coiled around his slender midriff, hoping against hope to maintain some sort of warmth in the bitter night air. The winters were always the worst, Ryan recalled, shivering slightly as he swatted a snowflake from his eyelashes. He hated it, this, all of it, with a vengeance. The (severe lack of) clothing he was forced to wear; the sneering (and sometimes even pitying) looks he received from passers-by, but most of all, his... Clients. He loathed their smell - that pungent old-man stench of booze and sweat and cum smeared on the legs of their pants. The smell that seared Ryan’s nostrils as he fell to his knees before them, in total submission.
Yet this was the only reliable source of income Ryan seemed able to obtain in this world. And he was almost half way there now. If he could just get enough money to get back to college, and then... Something, anything with the rest of his life. He shook his head fiercely. He was not going to end up as some junkie-wino-creep, hanging around on street corners and back alleys, depending on other people’s charity in order to survive. No. He wanted a reason to live. He wanted to be... Something. Anything. Anything but this...
And yet, there was something unusual about tonight, something just a little... Off. The call, that stupid call - that was probably all it was.
“Ryan Ross speaking,” he had half-purred, half-whispered into the mouthpiece, in that voice that so pleased the customers. “How may I be... Of assistance?”
Spasms of heavy breathing then rushed through the earpiece. Just slightly unnerving. A whirr of machinery and... And something almost resembling a scream in the distant background. Fucker probably had his television turned up too loud.
“Hello?”
“Mr Ross.”
The phone line had cracked furiously, buzzing in and out of focus, until:
“I should very much like to meet you tonight. The bridge. Midnight. And, I assure you, it will be well worth your time.”
And then the click of the receiver being put down. And then a silence, except for the drum roll of Ryan’s heartbeat, pounding incessantly in his ears. But still, clients meant money, and Ryan would do anything for money.
And so here he was. The old bridge, at 11:59. Although all he wanted to do was to just go home, curl up in the soft haven of his blankets and pretend that he was innocent again. Maybe even pretend that someone loved him.
A clock began to chime, somewhere in the distance, and Ryan half-smiled to himself. The sooner 12 o clock rolled around, the sooner he could get tonight’s procedures over and done with.
A car rolled up. Nice. Very nice. Too nice to be here by chance. The right-hand window rolled down a few inches, and Ryan peered inside to get a good view of the man’s face, but no such luck. However, the figure motioned to the passenger seat, and Ryan swung his legs hurriedly into the car, relieved to be out of the cold. He saw the face smile as he began to drive once more, stopping in a deserted estate.
“Where do you want me?” Ryan breathed. He hated to admit it, but he really did get some sick sort of pleasure from the whole situation sometimes. Just allowing yourself to be completely controlled by a complete stranger, well... It was hot.
Ryan slid to the floor at the stranger’s knees, gazing up at tonight’s ‘master’ with eyes portraying faux innocence. A laugh erupted from that wide, wide smile, cold and empty. Expressionless.
“You really are far too beautiful to be doing this, you know.”
Ryan was about to murmur, “Oh I know” as some sort of response, but suddenly the stranger’s pants were around his ankles, and Ryan’s hot, wet little mouth was pressing kisses, snaking up his thighs, and then... Those lush, pink lips suddenly engulfed the pulsating organ in front of them; licking and sucking and running his teeth over and under the flesh again and again, before taking him fully into his mouth expertly. Until he felt a sharp pricking sensation in the back of his neck. And-and he came to the realisation that this fucker has gone and fucking drugged him with some shit while he was sucking him off! Oh shhhhhhiiiiiiiittttttt.
Ryan gasped and began to choke on his attacker’s rather large member as his body began hopelessly to shut down. He was going to die. He was going to die.
And then the ‘Master’ pulled him roughly by the scruff of his ripped fishnet shirt, watching the tears still dribbling down his cheeks with an odd sort of affection.
“Poor kitty,” Pete cooed. “All alone and scared where no one can even hear you scream.”
And he propped Ryan’s unconscious form into the passenger seat, where his head lolled pathetically into his lap. Pete chuckled softly, pulling the boy’s head nearer and stroking his hair almost lovingly as he began to sing an eerily off-key melody under his breath, as the car rolled along under the streetlamps.
*
Blue morning, Blue morning
Wrapped in strands of fist and bone.
Curiosity, Kitten, doesn't have to mean you're on your own.
Your can look outside your window,
He doesn't have to know.
We can talk a while, baby.
We can take it nice and slow.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Well, are you happy where you're sleepin'?
Does he keep you safe and warm?
Does he tell you when you're sorry?
Does he tell you when you're wrong?
I've been watching you for hours.
It's been years since we were born.
We were perfect when we started...
I've been wondering where we've gone.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Well, I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there counting crows.
One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for girls and four for boys,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.
There's a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin.
Yeah, when you open up your wings to speak
I wish you'd let me in.
All your life is such a shame, shame, shame.
All your love is just a dream, dream, dream.
Open up your eyes
You can see the flames, flames, flames.
of your wasted life.
You should be ashamed.
Yeah, you don't want to waste your life, baby.
You don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
You don't wanna waste your life, baby.
You don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Oh, you don't wanna waste your life, now babe.
I said you don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Oh, you don't wanna waste your life, now baby.
Oh, you don't wanna, you don't wanna waste your life, now darlin.
Change, change, change.
Change.
Change.
Change.
I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I will walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am feathered by the moonlight falling down on me.
I said I will walk along these hillsides in the summer 'neath the sunshine.
I am fettered by the moonlight.
Change, change, change.
*
Pete's fingers slipped slightly on the steering wheel.
“I’ll help you change, darling,” he whispered softly. “Hell’s no place for beautiful boys like you...”