My first the Young Ones fanfic. Quick warning it is slash so if you don't like that sort of thing don't read. Rated M for matue content, m/m and language.
I don't own the young ones characters that honour goes to Rik Mayall, Lise Mayer and Ben Elton, I'm merely borrowing them for my own sick amusement. If this get's a decent reception I'll upload the secound half, please let me know what you think, many thanks :)
The morning was grey; the sun didn't break the clouds that lay in a thick blanket across the sky smothering the area in a monochrome sheath. Inside the room where sunlight didn't chink in through the blinds and hadn't been the cause of the disturbance in one of the beds occupant's dreams the air sat heavy, each inhale the young man made seemed to take more effort than was natural like the air itself was turning to molasses. The block grey of the bed sheets was only broken by the occasional coffee stain, or splurge of black ink, all where in the same dreary palette though as the outside he held his back to. Slowly he lifted his hands and slid them from beneath his bed sheet smoothing at the sheets spread across his body.
He followed the progress of his own hands as they ran from his chest, down and fitted snugly in the crevice between his own and the other body lain in bed beside him, his fingers spasm slightly as they accidently brushed against the other mans exposed skin. The young man noted that yet again his bed mate had thrown the covers from himself in the night and they now cocooned his own body nearly entirely, not that his bed mate would care when he awoke. Hesitantly, afraid that his light touches would cause the other to stir; he let his fingertips trail along the broad shoulders, and then dip down between defined shoulder blades.
Icy eyes watched with mild amusement as his fingers seemed to take on a mind of their own, mapping the myriad of fresh scratches they themselves had left the night before. He felt the roughness of dried blood on his sensitive finger tips in some areas where his barely there nails had broken the surface of skin and fought the urge to smile. His eyes moved back to where his fingers had started their journey and locked on the juncture where shoulder met neck, something inside him thrilling at the teeth marks standing out almost garishly against alabaster skin, just high enough that he just knew the usual shirts the other wore wouldn't hide the wound.
'Have fun explaining that to the lads down the pub'
A huff that could have been a laugh or just a particularly heavy exhale escaped him at that thought; the punk would most likely make him pay for it once he regained all his faculties this morning…A sudden shiver ran through him at the thought of his punk pushing him down, the words he would say, the blows he would deal. Without his permission his mind wandered to the previous evening, to what had led them to be here…
The heat of Vyvyan's hand resting on his leg was maddening, how he could just sit so casually while making Rick feel like he wanted to rip the skin from his body to stop the thrumming electricity skimming across his skin he didn't understand. He shot a look to the side which went unnoticed by the punk whose entire attention was seemingly on the television screen and the bowl of god knows what that he had dug from the cupboard and was proceeding to shovel down his gullet as fast as his body would allow.
Never moving his eyes or even indicating that he so much as had an inkling as to what he was putting Rick through Vyvyan began to move his hand higher, his leather wrist cuff scraping at his skin through the denim. Sweat began to bead at the nape of Ricks neck as Vyvyans fingers began to knead high upon his thigh near enough to his crotch that he could feel himself beginning to react in a way that would most definitely alert the others if he were to allow the punk to continue. Biting hard on his lip Rick attempted to follow Vyvyans example and loose himself in the programme, however the fingers that where gradually beginning to cover his crotch had other ideas.
Rick knew what Vyvs game was, he was trying to get a reaction, and he wanted to watch him squirm. Sometimes the anarchist felt like he was nothing more than an ant under a magnifying glass to the medical student a disposable source of entertainment for study, something there when he felt like being cruel just for the fun of it. Rick hated himself for letting Vyvyan push him around like he did, but at the same time he loved it and that just made him hate himself even more.
Suddenly the sensation changed from kneading to a sudden sharp grip, Rick inhaled sharply, unable to stop the physical jerk his body betraying him, the rickety chair he was perched upon (as usual) creaked and protested the slightly spasmodic movement which had drawn the attention of the male sat at the far end of the couch. Calmly Mike leant forwards, looking around Neil (granted their wasn't a lot to look around and nine times out of ten they tended to just look through the hippy anyway) and past Vyvyans stock form to where he could just see Ricks profile, his jaw was slightly slack and eyes wide.
"Alright Rick?" Mike asked quirking one eyebrow he watched as Rick nodded wordlessly, eyes not flicking towards Mike once. This was one of the longest periods of silence Mike had ever known Rick to have, and not that he would let it show but it was ever so slightly disconcerting.
"Yeah Rick." Vyvyan chimed in, twisting his head to face Rick, keeping his hand where it rested in his lap, cupping Rick through his jeans, the other buried in the bowl of what he suspected where crisps but wasn't entirely sure that sat between his own spread legs. "You've been awfully quite this evening." He grinned at the sociology student who shot him the most withering glare he could muster in his current predicament.
Rick gritted his teeth and spat between them; "Shut up you utter bastard." Vyv grinned and twisted his hand sharply in Ricks lap causing the poets eyes to boss and his teeth nearly break the skin of his lower lip as his teeth gnashed down upon it in an effort to muffle the sound trying to escape him.
Vyvyan settled back within his seat, removing his hand subtly from Ricks lap and proceeding to use both hands to shovel the remnants of the bowl within his lap into his mouth. That had most certainly been a memorable reaction, he mused to himself that he may have to remember it for use in the future.
The difference was truly stunning Rick often mused to himself in these quite moments with Vyvyan, he was hardly recognizable as the psychotic personality that Rick had grown accustomed to. In sleep his face held no resemblance to the permanent gurn that distorted his features whilst awake (when they first met Rick had wondered if the medical student was in pain such was the intensity. Enquiring had led to his head being smashed through their living room door, he hadn't bothered asking since.) and he really was rather handsome the poet supposed, even if the cheap dye he used on his hair often ended up smeared in streaks across his skin and on the pillows after their nights together.
Hesitantly he let his fingers slide back up the smooth skin and delve into the orange hair that lay flat against the punk's skull, the tri-hawk mutilated beyond recognition into and almost endearing scruff that stuck up in a disarray of orange and (in certain places where the dye had worn away) blonde. His fingers toyed with the strands that curled at the nape of Vyvyans' neck, only lightly for fear of the Punk awaking and calling him on his actions, Vyv wasn't big on Ricks 'moments', and often resorted to beating him out of them if he caught him. Rick smiled, thin lips pulled upwards, only slightly, at the thought that out of any-one he could choose Vyvyan must be the most unlikely person he would ever have thought of himself being with. The smile grew though at the thought that for all the times he drove Vyvyan up the wall, for all the screaming and yelling, all the broken furniture and bruises, they always ended up back together.
It probably wasn't the most healthy relationship going, but they were happy, for the most part anyhow… well…Rick was happier when Vyvyan wasn't kicking his ribs in to be honest but he always made up for it and that was all the anarchist cared about.
"We're like fire and water…" Rick whispered, hushed and quite into the monotone room, letting himself shuffle a little closer to the other body still laying with his back towards him, moving closer to the heat emanating from Vyvyan's bare skin, the smell of sweat and alcohol something he had gotten used to very early on. "We'd be more dangerous separate than we are together…" His fingers caught in a knot near Vyvs ear and the punk grunted, Rick froze afraid he had been rumbled, the punks shoulder muscles tensed before relaxing, his breathes returning to the deep soothing rumble they had been. "I wonder who's going to extinguish who though."
"What the ruddy hell did you think you were doing Vyvyan?" Rick hissed from his seat on the edge of his bed, it was one in the morning, the incident in the lounge was still thrumming beneath his skin, the embarrassment and fear seemed to have cemented themselves permanently within his gut. Vyvyan snorted from where he stood at Ricks door, shrugging off his denim jacket, chains rattling noisily within the tense air of the room (tension the Punk was purposely ignoring, he had been working the sociology student up all night and was damned if he was going to be side-tracked by atmosphere)
"Just having fun Rick. Why didn't you enjoy it?" Rick flustered, eyes narrowing at Vyvyan, watching his every move as he stalked forwards towards the bed until his knees where bumping against Ricks where he sat rigid upon his filthy sheets. "It felt like you did…"
"Oh, shut up Vyvyan!" Rick shoved at his thighs petulantly, he was angry dammit! Angry and humiliated! He's had to sit through Vyvyan tormenting him all evening; apparently crotch grabbing had only been an appetizer, about half an hour after Vyvyan had declared it was too hot and stripped himself of his jacket and dead Kennedys t-shirt, only to slip the denim cut off back over his bare chest. Rick had only been able to sit and stare, feeling slightly like he was being penned into a corner with no hope of escape, especially when Vyv threw his legs over the end of the sofa and into Ricks lap, effectively pinning him into his seat. That, Rick felt, was playing dirty.
"You were out of line." Rick shoved at Vyvyans' thighs again when the medical student merely swayed with his first pathetic attempt. When the Punk didn't even bother to humour the weedy student with a slight sway Rick kicked his feet wildly and scrambled onto his knees on the bed, trying to gain a little height so he wasn't looking up into the punks soft blue eyes as he let him have a piece of his mind. "What if Mike or Neil had noticed the little game you were playing? Hmm? What then? What would you have said Vyvyan? 'OH sorry lads. I was just playing keep the stiffy with Rick? Didn't think you'd mind me doing it RIGHT UNDER YOUR BLOODY NOSE!'!"
"For fucks sake." Vyvyan shoved Ricks shoulder as the anarchist tried to push his face into the Punks, eyes bugging and cheeks flushed with anger as he screamed almost hysterically. Vyvyan watched with an almost detached amusement as Ricks arms flailed at the sudden loss of balance and he slammed backwards into the wall his bed was pressed sideward against, his shoulders and skull making an almost sickening crack sound as they connected with the brick. "Mike was far too interested in those birds with the grass skirts on to notice a nuclear bomb going off in his pants." Rick pressed himself further into the wall as Vyvyan climbed onto the bed with him, the knackered mattress sinking and creaking with the additional weight. "And I think Neil's slipped into some kind of Lentil induced coma, I just left him downstairs on the couch; didn't even wince when I set fire to his flares." Vyvyan nodded as he spoke, convinced that neither housemate would have noticed a thing it he had leapt at Rick then had there whilst downstairs so absorbed within their own little worlds, rick however didn't look so convinced if the pursed lips and stink eye where anything to go by.
Rolling his eyes Vyvyan gripped at Rick's wrists where they lay limp by the anarchist's hips and pressed them firmly into the mattress, thumbs pressing into the softness of the inside of his wrist, a thrill rising in his chest as Rick gasped, lips swollen from incessant chewing parting, blue eyes reluctantly meeting Vyvyans own as the Punk leant further into Ricks personal space.
"We. Were. Fine." Anticipation thrummed in the veins of both males, this was what they had been leading up to all evening, the teasing, the snipes, everything always led to this. Vyvyans grip on his wrists tightened, past pain, past control to the point where Rick could feel the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle from lack of blood flow. "Ok girlie?" Vyvyans tone was laden with patronisation, his lips twisted into a grim sneer as he cut his baby blues at Rick, before he jolted backwards from shock as a wad of spit landed on his cheek.
Rick hadn't even thought about it, so riled up from Vyvyans taunting all evening, the hated 'pet name' had apparently been the last straw. He blinked as he watched the spit drip down Vyvyans cheek, shocked. He was for it now.
Vyvyan released one of Rick's wrists, raising his hand he swiped at the spit, fighting the urge to simply lay into the trembling boy before him, knowing that the more calmly he approached everything the more unnerved the poet would become. As he raised his hand he felt Rick flinch away and into the wall, cowering under Vyvyans shadow that seemed to almost engulf him, but chose to ignore it. It wasn't as if the reaction wasn't well earnt .Vyvyan eyed the spit on his hand, disgusting really, but not exactly the worst thing he'd had hit his face he reasoned before gripping Ricks jaw as tightly as he could, fingers digging tightly into the flesh and mottling the pale skin even paler as the blood drained from the pressure.
"That…is a very nasty habit." Ricks eyes where wide as saucers by this point, locked onto Vyvs as if in some extreme staring contest, not even daring to blink as the Punks eyes iced over. "Perhaps I should help you break it?" Ricks breaths where shallow and rushed as Vyv forced his jaw shut, grinding his teeth together and effectively silencing his retort that instead escaped as a muffled, grunting sound.
Rick slammed his now free hand against Vyvyans chest in an attempt to push the Punk back, hand fisted and pressing roughly into the space between his ribs, but Vyvyan didn't budge, didn't even show a sign of having felt the blow as he forced Ricks head back against the wall, tipping his jaw so he was staring up at the ceiling of his room and into the face of the mould that was slowly colonising his ceiling from where the hole in the roof was letting moisture into the attic. Rick tried to focus on the misshapen blob as his eyes watered and breathing became progressively more difficult to manage as Vyvyans entire hand closed around his throat, desperately his hand scrambled at Vyvs chest, his still pinned hand twisted within Vyvyans grasp and began to claw at whatever flesh he could reach, unable to kick his legs out from where his weight rested on them.
Vyvan watched Rick as he tightens his grip around his throat, not too much, but enough to make breathing a little more difficult for the poet. Vyvyan had learnt how much of this Rick could take before the lack of oxygen became too much and the anarchist simply fainted, the dull stinging of Ricks chewed nails scrabbling at his skin was mildly irritating, kind of like when S.P.G tried to clamber up his arm to sit on his shoulder. He watched as Ricks eyes watered and the anarchist blinked determinedly to keep the tears from falling as breathes rasped from his lungs, noisy in the almost eerie silence of the room, a sound which could have been anything from 'Vyv' to 'cunt-face' gurgled up in Rick's throat, his Adams apple bobbing madly behind his flesh drawing Vyvs eyes to his neck. Pale, unmarked skin stretched on from below Vyvyans hand, down behind that grey button up, luring him in almost as if he were being hypnotised without him noticing he found himself nipping at the skin below where his hand was restricting Ricks air flow, a sudden un-ignorable desire to mark Ricks skin, to disfigure the unblemished porcelain that stretched out, so fragile and vulnerable before him overtook him and without warning he sunk his teeth into the flesh.
The undistinguishable mix of sudden sharp pain and pleasure erupted within Rick's sense like a firework flaring within the night sky, the hand scrabbling at Vyvs wrist stopped and the fingers enclosed within themselves in a tight fist as the fist that had been digging at his ribs stilled and released, pressed palm flat against the hot skin, trying to gain purchase of anything solid and real, trying to anchor him as he felt that sharp points of the Punks teeth nipping at his skin before being soothed by his tongue lapping at the sore areas in a strangely tender action before his teeth returned and the process repeated itself, drawing gasped whimpers from the anarchist as he squirmed beneath the medical student for a completely different reason now.
Rick debated with himself a moment before leaning forwards and pressing his lips against the punks shoulder blade tenderly, one hand slipping from his lovers hair to rest against the pillow above their heads, the other sliding down to Vyvyans shoulder, fingers running along the dark mottled skin nestled in the crook of the punks neck, feeling along the indents of his own teeth gingerly, still not quite ready for Vyvyan to wake up and force an end to what he felt was a rare moment of exploration and…expression. He dragged his lips to the top of Vyvyans spine, kissing softly along the bones as low as he could reach, not daring to move the chain which lay still wrapped around the young man's neck, the coolness of the metal startling as he accidently brushed it with his cheek when compared to the heat radiating from the Punks skin.
He would never get away with being this soppy while the Punk was awake, Vyvyan would think he'd starved his brain of oxygen for too long and broken him or something similar Rick thought to himself, there was something about expressing emotion besides anger and lust through physicality that the Punk seemed to bulk at. At first Rick had thought it was simply because Vyvyan had never really received anything over than that, however after trying to cuddle, or hold his hand in bed the first few times and ending up with a bloody nose he'd given up trying to express himself and the way he felt to Vyvyan…at least while he was conscious. He figured it just wasn't in Vyvyan Bastards make-up to show physical affection or feel anything more than lust and Rick could deal with that, after all the fact that Vyvyan even came to him at all meant a lot. Rick knew in his own way the Punk cared for him.
"I love you…" Ricks lips ghosted over the skin at the nape of the Punks neck, his breath rustling the fine hair rooted there that had lost their dye and stood out from the orange mass. "You bastard." The smile in his voice audible to his own ears as he kissed the warm skin once more before letting his eye shut once more, his hand still lazily running small patterns over the Punks skin until he finally slipped back into sleeps waiting arms and his hand slipped from the Punks shoulder into the small space between his chest and the Punks back.
Vyvyan waited until the breaths fanning across his back evened out before rolling carefully over onto his back, avoiding crushing Ricks hand and waking him, and getting an earful from the anarchist for disrupting his notoriously fitful sleep. He watched the anarchist sleep, his eyes moving fitfully behind the lids as REM took hold, brown hair splayed against the grotty grey (once white Vyvyan had been assured) pillowcase, pigtails sticking rigidly from beneath the mop, random strands sticking from between the braids where they had worked free. Unable to stop himself Vyvyan tugged lightly at one, smiling to himself as it caused Rick to snuffle slightly in his sleep before he moved closer to Vyvyan, face buried against his side before he knew it, eyelashes ticking at his skin as his eyes fluttered fully in the throes of dreams now.
The Punk sighed, not even really for his own benefit, just because it felt like the appropriate action to take in such a situation. He'd been awake for the majority of the time Rick had, he just couldn't be assed before to alert the anarchist to his consciousness, but…part of him wished he hadn't been so idle now. It was unfair he realised (with some shock to himself) he felt as if he had deceived the anarchist, it had been nice he realised, nice to simply feel. But it was scary as well…which he supposed was nice as well in its own way, to know he could still feel scared sometimes…But he felt like he had tricked the last words from the poet. He'd never said it before, never even hinted…but Vyvyan supposed he'd never been looking for it before….not really. Never looked too far into why Rick let him keep coming back, why Rick kept fighting back, why he let the cycle continue. Not until now anyway
Vyvyan let another sigh past his lips before pursing them so tightly his top lip touched the ring that pierced his nose. Vyvyan could acknowledge to himself that, emotions wise, he was hardly…extroverted. He had never believed in touchy feely (another reason why he liked Rick not knowing he was awake, if Rick knew that he'd think that meant he was ok with it all the time) communication of emotion, never really experienced it before though he supposed. Definitely never did from his Mother, and he was never with a foster family long enough to ever really see them as anything other than a stopping point on his way along a long and pointless track. They all hit the panic button, usually within the three week period. Every-one hit the panic button eventually…
Vyvyan's eyes were drawn down towards where the anarchist was tucked against his side, he'd let him stay there for now, until he woke. Then he'd push him out of bed, act as if he'd just awoken himself. Yell at him for cuddling, yell at him for the bruise tingling at the crook of his neck (where he could still feel the ghost of Rick's fingertips tracing nonsensical patterns over the skin) and return to the utter bastard he now knew Rick was in love with…
Every-one hit the panic button in the enventually.