On the third day, he felt as if he was in some sort of drug withdrawal. Like he'd got a small taste of the best sort, then he was denied when asked for more.
He saw Merridew in school, but they didn't interact. At all. They resorted to that stage after their first sexual interaction in the park and it appeared as if they wouldn't ever return to their enmity. The spectacle was over and if people expected Merridew's previous taunts and Ralph's angry retaliations, then they were misled. Merridew didn't seem to want to return to that old pretence and, honestly, neither Ralph. People started getting accustomed to this new routine and most of them were quite at ease about it, including Ralph's friends. Especially Ralph's friends.
Not Merridew's pack though.
In spite of it, they didn't confront Merridew regarding his retreat from the bullying world. Ralph could notice that this change really bothered those wretched blokes, particularly Black and Wendell, but he was relieved about how they weren't acting on the issue. Not yet. He hoped they never would, although he highly doubted it.
At the moment, Ralph was fretting over something else entirely. Merridew wasn't giving him any sign tied to a future encounter between them and he didn't want to get distressed over such a ridiculous thing, but he couldn't help himself. He hated how Merridew ended up perturbing him so deeply and he forced not to give importance to it, but he felt like he would go mental. He needed it, he could feel it at night and in the morning, when he woke up in damp sheets and messy nightclothes. When his cock hardened and his core called out for more.
His own hands weren't enough, they were never enough, he discovered, but they at least quenched the ravenous instincts to a point where his mind didn't constantly preoccupy itself with the issue. He started having some understanding of the twin buggers whose discussions almost always resorted to masturbation and lasses, because he realised that, now that he did have the taste, he could never give up on it. He needed Merridew's hands on him again, as quickly as possible, but the bastard was tormenting him on purpose, just like he'd said he would. Was ignoring him only to bring Ralph on the verge of breaking, in a state where he would accept everything Merridew would propose to him.
Not that Ralph wasn't doing that already anyway. He couldn't understand what Merridew truly wanted from him in the end. Ralph sometimes had his doubts that Merridew even cared about the sex at all; it was simply a game to him. A game in which he was tossing Ralph like a puppet, throwing him just like one threw a ball, into a wall and back. Probably that was what felt good to him, not the sexual act in itself. The sex was a minor plus. Something that Merridew could go without.
No, he thrived on Ralph's humiliation. On his personal torture. It was still a form of bullying, except a more disturbing one. If that was how things worked, then Ralph wasn't going to wait for him. He was going to find other methods to get off.
He got tired of his hand on his erection after a while. He always returned home late, just so he wouldn't bother Hannah. Spent his free hours with Peter and Simon, while still thinking about Merridew, about how much he keened for that devil, but he couldn't endlessly pretend. The shameful images that flickered at the back of his mind were too much and it got difficult concentrating in the presence of his friends after a while, so he started hanging out with them less and less. Started thinking of himself as unworthy of their company, because he had fallen too terribly into the pit of this depravation.
When he got home, he quickly found excuses to fly up his room, hair stuck to his forehead and shirt warm beneath his jacket, before he discarded his clothes in a frenzy and closed himself in the bathroom.
At first he thought it to be horrible and undignified. What he was doing. In spite of the fact that he had accepted Merridew manoeuvring him in every possible way, doing this by himself at home seemed even more degrading, in some strange way. Maybe because it meant that he had given himself away completely, that there was no trace of integrity left in him anymore. He couldn't figure it out.
Still, he needed it too much. So when he put his own fingers into his arse for the first time, he felt like his head would implode in both embarrassment and exhilaration. Warm blood pumped beneath his skin and his face burned into the white light of the bathroom. He braced himself on the sink and avoided his reflection in the mirror at all costs.
The thrill of having it done to him by Merridew was still superior to this, because it benefited Ralph much more. It made him feel good, knowing Merridew was committing such things for him. He liked it especially because Merridew believed he was the only one in a position of power. The only one who got off on the psychological side in this affair; the idea that someone would completely dedicate themselves to him in the act.
Ralph fed his own ego with this as well. Despite that he appeared to be the one who surrendered to Merridew, he knew Merridew had a point in which he lost himself. Lost his mind, his soul, while Ralph stood there, on the brink of bliss, but still a little bit aware, holding a part of Merridew inside of him.
He rubbed a great supply of lubricant on his fingers – something that he had rapidly procured in that evening, before anyone else even noticed his disappearance- then tentatively put them in, his hand tightly clinging onto the cold marble and cock still hard to the point of pain. Dizziness overcame him and his legs trembled. He knew he wouldn't last, just like he didn't each time Merridew touched him, but to his surprise, he didn't come at the first feel of his fingers.
His teeth painfully prodded his bottom lip as he bit back moans, his fingers roaming around, softly rubbing the inner flesh; imagining those hands belonged to Merridew. Merridew approaching from behind and grabbing his sides like he'd done it before. Merridew bringing a large hand between his arse cheeks, opening him up and stretching him with rough fingers, before he would put his cock there, while biting Ralph's shoulder and wrapping his other hand around his throat, like he'd done it before.
His imagination didn't get further than that. With one quiet whimper, the fair boy brought himself off into the sink, crumpling over it when he came. Breathing heavily, he tried to regain composure over himself. When he was through, he quickly washed his hands, patted a damp towel over his flushed cheeks, attempted to flatten his messy hair. He still couldn't look for more than a few seconds in the mirror, just rearranged his jeans and belt and left the room before his caretaker suspected anything. It was a good thing that he didn't last long yet when he jerked off.
He dreamed a lot. While he'd had dreams of his childhood in his previous years, their frequency seemed to have increased in the past few weeks. He dreamed of small feet and bright smiles, of noisier classrooms, and sunlight that blinded him. Of warm hands holding his own and mouths with crooked teeth and different high voices that got lost so many years ago. He knew it was Merridew that occasionally haunted his dreams, but right then, it wasn't the Merridew that he was currently shagging. It was a small, lanky, freckled boy, restless and eager for bad and good things alike, it was someone that he had known once but didn't exist anymore. A boy that had made him laugh and cry at the same time, a boy that had stirred all feelings inside him, that had grabbed his hand and led him to touch the wonderful part of life and sense it under his dirty fingers.
He didn't know what he wanted. These dreams, or nightmares he could call, were torturous and confusing and they made him long for senseless things. They were gut-wrenching and they marked him for days at times, almost buried him into a depression that he could barely escape from.
He was trapped into memories of his childhood, into a faded, better past and it consumed him. He knew he had to accept his present, this grim existence that he was enduring, but it appeared as if he could never get used to it. He wanted his mother back, he wanted things to be as they'd once been. He still occasionally missed Jack and this was the oddest part.
The fact that he separated one person into two, whole different entities. Jack, a small boy that had used to be his best friend, a boy who had made his life a whole lot better, and Merridew, this guy who had pestered him for years, who had destroyed everything decent that Ralph had once stood for. Who was still maltreating him every day, messing with his brain wires until he couldn't properly function.
Behind the physical ache he harboured for Merridew's touch, he had to admit there was hatred. He had never hated anyone in his life and it wasn't in his nature to do so. But Merridew was a special case, he was a devil that made sure Ralph descended to his level, by planting this seed of spite in him and watering it so that it would grow bigger with each day. Merridew assured himself that Ralph remained on his level, held him down there with chains made of hot iron, in his own personal hell.
Merridew had destroyed Jack. It was a very insane thought that had taken roots into his mind, but he couldn't help but cling to it. He couldn't help but regret their whole friendship, because it was one of the things that had made him suffer the most as a child. He still vaguely hurt because of it at times and now this feeling appeared to have become more vivid than ever, due to his appropriation to Merridew. He didn't like how important this guy had suddenly become to him again. So he tried to brush the sentiment off. Let only the sexual instinct linger at the surface of his mind.
On Thursday, they shared class again. His leg was shaking and he fretted in his desk, hoping for Merridew to send him a written note, like he'd done it before. He sent quick glances in his direction, but the arsehole was casually staring ahead, pretending to listen to the professor. Oh, Ralph knew he was pretending, he was bloody purposefully driving him nuts.
So he wrote first this time.
'Judging from your indifferent attitude, I'm guessing everything remains the same, right? We meet at your house on Saturday.'
He huffed and checked the note twice, then quickly flicked it in Merridew's direction. The bastard didn't react for two whole minutes, and Ralph seriously considered the idea of flipping his desk and beating the wits out of him right then and there. Bad luck still took a turn for him even in his own built up scenario though; he already knew how Merridew would just laugh in his face, all bloody nose and sharp teeth, mostly at Ralph for proving his point and ending up a desperate little poof, trying to get one last shag from him. In reality, he would also end up with a marvelous present in the form of detention.
Merridew subtly raised his eyebrows at him in mocking surprise, putting up this whole theatrical façade.
'Was that supposed to be settled, little sunshine? I can't quite remember.'
Ralph didn't know whether to rip his hair out or laugh like lunatic. Both options were tempting to him at that particular moment.
'Don't call me 'little sunshine'. Let's just decide on this matter already. If you don't care about these bullocks, then I resort to my previous decision. We'll just end it, once and for all. I won't be played in such a manner all the time.'
The ghost of a smile lingered on Merridew's lips while reading the note, but he didn't look at Ralph anymore. Just leisurely folded the paper and turned away from Ralph like those messages meant nothing to him. Ralph could see traces of satisfaction morphing his features into infuriating calm, and his mind couldn't focus afterward. He was on a train of agony, waiting to reach the end of the tunnel, the point where his frustration and anger would turn into explosions.
He followed Merridew after class, walked on his steps, briefly losing him among the crowd at one point, but finding his way back to him. Merridew had his smoking break, Ralph knew that for sure, since he'd seen him more than once behind the school, passing the burning fag to his loyal friends. Aquiline nose exhaling deathly smoke and lean form propped up against the brick wall, his eyes closed, as if the moment was superior to everything he'd experienced in his short life.
This time he was alone, and the heaviness in Ralph's stomach faded a little. He approached with secure steps, not letting Merridew see the impatience that hung onto his movement. When he reached his side, his determination wasn't so resolute anymore, although he still grasped onto his decision.
He had to clarify the bloody situation once and for all.
"Merridew." He cleared his throat. The arsehole opened his eyes and looked straight through him, as if Ralph's apparition was the least unpredictable thing that could have ever happened. His face betrayed no surprise, not even any sort of emotion, he was watching Ralph as if watching a wall. The scorching fury rose at the back of Ralph's mind. He closed in and took the cigarette out of Merridew's puckered mouth, before throwing it away in a nearby puddle, everything in one short motion.
Merridew's features abruptly harshened, fists clenching at his sides, which was Ralph's most desired effect.
"I'm paying you a visit on Saturday." He repeated the words from his notes. Merridew's form somewhat relaxed. He pulled the blasted packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up another one. He exhaled the smoke in Ralph's face, and the fair boy was tempted to both throw his second cigarette away and punch Merridew in the fucking nose, but he remained impassive, eyes narrow and fists curled at his sides.
"Around the same hour." Merridew shortly agreed and Ralph's tension slipped away, once his brain registered the information. He had expected Merridew to carry on with putting up his arrogant front, but his words disarmed him quicker than the ring bell. He hovered for a few moments, letting his guard down, then nodded somewhat skeptical.
"Alright then." He confirmed once more, as if he still wasn't sure that what Merridew had just said was real. The corner of Merridew's mouth vaguely lifted up, before he turned away from Ralph and kept smoking in placid indifference, as if dismissing Ralph's presence, which slightly raked the fair boy, even though he tried not to let it reach him. He flinched as vague distress still tightened in his chest against his rational thought, and so he quickly turned and left the place, before Merridew could notice the fact that such a petty movement from his side had affected Ralph to such level.
He was angry with him, but mostly with himself, because he had let himself be carried away like this. After all, they didn't have any obligations toward each other, they simply settled encounters in which they would fulfill certain sexual pleasures. They didn't have to communicate more than necessary and they didn't have to share words which didn't have any relevance to their purpose. They weren't mates and they weren't good colleagues, they had even been the worst of enemies up until last week, for God's sake. He couldn't understand his own mind sometimes and he seriously wanted to beat himself up then, for being such an easily affected twit. Their meeting was settled, he had obtained what he had initially sought and so he had to continue his daily routine and pull that blasted Merridew out of his mind once again.
He tried to tell himself that he was just sexually stirred and that he was just acting like a regular, desperate teenage boy, even though he was aware deep down that that wasn't the real reason why he felt bummed at the moment. He felt bummed because Merridew could be so easily cold and nonchalant toward him, because Merridew didn't seem to be interested at all in their interactions anymore, as if Ralph wasn't a real human being, as if he was just a puppet that Merridew could fool around with once in a while. At least before, when they clashed, Merridew seemed to have accorded importance to him as a person, but now he just didn't even appear to be that anymore. Now he was just an object that helped Merridew satisfy his craving for sexual power and perversion. He knew he shouldn't have cared about it, because he used Merridew on his own personal whim as well, but it still scratched at his pride and dignity. No matter how much he tried to separate himself from those attributes, he couldn't do it thoroughly.
At lunch, the twins attracted their attention.
"So my mates, we're holding a small gathering at our place this Saturday, who's up for it?" Eric spoke up enthusiastically, while Sam was holding a white cardboard with a very unintelligible scribble of what appeared to be a plan.
"So here's how it goes-", Sam started, pointing at two stick figures in the corner of the cardboard, "Most of our other mates are bringing lasses along. Now they don't have to be your partners or anything, they can simply be your friends, but you have to bring along at least one good female piece," Ralph held in a snort when he caught Peter roll his eyes at the degrading choice of words, "I already have my share and so does my lil'bro here-"
"Only by ten seconds," Eric interrupted annoyed. Sam grinned at him, then continued. "I know you boys have a bit of a difficulty with finding a solution to this problem, so I thought I should spare you and allow you to come in pairs." He snickered when he took notice of the discomfort on his friends' pallid faces.
"If that's the case, then no thanks, I will skip it." Peter replied sarcastically. The twins exchanged all-knowing glances, while Simon appeared to battle some sort of internal conflict, most probably about speaking up. Drops of sweat trailed down his forehead into his eyebrow, his social anxiety evidently overwhelming him.
"Peter is right, my friends, I'm afraid we will not be part of this, not this time." He sustained. Peter nodded in agreement.
"I remember last time, we were the butt of the whole party. And it was nice of you mates to defend us from the rest of the lot, but you were the reason we were there in the first place. You know bloody well our social issues, you know we always become the chew toys for the group, so we're not going to get trapped in such a situation this time. Not anymore, I'm sorry." He crossed his arms, daring the twins to contradict him.
"Especially since it appears to be worse now." Ralph added humored. "We have to bring up girls as well."
"Alright, alright," Eric interfered, "Last time was bad indeed. But I promise you mates that this time will be marvelous, unique, spectacular-"
"In a few words," Sam prompted up, pointing a pen at the cardboard, "It is a theme gathering." He pointed at badly drawn pictures, "One space-themed room," He described throwing a pointed look at a gaping Peter, "One nature-themed," He continued smiling knowingly at a wondering Simon, "One movie themed and-" He paused dramatically, his eyes slanting dangerously, "The room of vengeance." He waited for the big question to arise from his friends, but they just continued staring at him skeptically. Eric cleared his throat.
"On short, we have prepared games in which you can theoretically destroy the big bullies." He explained, "Darts with Merridew's face on them, bowling pins with Black, Talbot, Wendell, and Carlson's mugs stuck to each and every piece-"
"You name it." Sam finished and their grins simultaneously widened up when they noticed the surprised, but impressed expressions on the other boys' faces.
"There will be only people who hate their guts, no snitch that has any relation to them this time. Only tight-knit, good ol' friends who are in the mood for a bit of vengeance." Eric articulated, throwing an arm around Peter's shoulders.
"And of course, like we've said, you boys are the exception. You are exempted from the girl-rule. Except you, Ralph. You are able to bring one, aren't you?" He winked suggestively. The fair boy leapt taken aback.
"Me? When have you ever seen me having any contact with any girl?" He inquired peeved.
"Well, we might not have seen you, but you are capable of doing something in that matter." Sam retorted convinced. "I mean, look at you, my mate," He dramatically gesticulated with a hand wave, "You are somethin', no kiddin'!"
Ralph huffed, blowing bangs out of infuriated eyes.
"It might seem plausible to you and to many people, but not to me. I cannot be part of it. Your party sounds very attractive indeed, but unfortunately I will have to skip drilling a hole into Merridew's face, no matter how much I would love it."
The twins shook their heads in disappointment, and Peter and Simon seemed to share the sentiment, if their slightly hopeful looks were veridic in any measure. The true reason Ralph did not want to join them the upcoming Saturday was entirely something else.
His rendevouz with Merridew. He couldn't openly admit it, but that had become at some point more important to him than hanging out with his friends. The lie came easily to his lips. He didn't even have to try anymore. He didn't even stress himself, not one bit. No remorse, shame, unease gnawed at him about the fact that he so easily refused the offer. For Merridew.
„Oh, come on!" Sam burst out in aggravation, "You are one of our biggest prizes for this gathering. Do you know how many lasses will come there for you, my friend?" He inquired with an intense look. "I think it is about time you become a normal teen like the res' of us, mate!" Ralph frowned. He didn't have the patience, the energy or the mood for this. And he wasn't about to be let himself be indirectly attacked, not even by his own friends.
"I don't care if there will be lasses or stars or the bloody queen herself. I am what I am and I believe you should mind your own business, Sam." He enunciated in irritation, eyes narrowed sharply and fists tight at his side. A ticking time bomb suddenly took shape inside his mind. He didn't want to wait until it exploded and would make him punch Sam right in his mug. Making a scene there in front of half the student population, his friends, and especially Merridew's pack that was sitting a couple of tables away from them, was out of the question. At least Merridew didn't join them. He hadn't been doing that almost at all for the past couple of weeks.
Sam exhaled loudly through his nose, his agitation toning down a bit, before taking the seat next to his brother, while still scrutinizing Ralph with beady eyes. Eric was staring at them, mouth gaping open, while Peter and Simon flinched uncomfortably in their seats at the tension that reared its hideous head between them. Ralph ignored their confused, inquiring glances and continued eating his meal in silence, so that he would be able to get away from them as quickly as possible.
If he was honest with himself, he got quite tired of them always pointing at his inability to socially perform like a normal teen, especially since he didn't have any excuse, compared to Peter and Simon. What frustrated him even more was that even Peter and Simon themselves would occasionally delve into this subject regarding him, which made him avoid them more and more lately. He couldn't stand their gazes and their awkward, silent question marks that they directed at him, every time he had the opportunity to do something about it. Whether it was a female colleague or an older girl that tried to court him, he always rejected these opportunities. And everyone tried to understand it.
What they didn't know was that Ralph was not going to allow them to understand it. One more year and he would graduate and then he would finally be able to put a considerable distance between himself and his friends. This intention hadn't been long hanging there, initially having been just a vague thought that randomly popped in between moments of self-reflection. Now it had turned into something sharp and clear, something that needed to materialize. He felt slightly remorseful about it, since his friends had been by his side all of these years, through good and bad. Still, he was aware of the fact that he was changing. His mode of thinking was changing, his customs were changing, his life was taking another path, different from the one his friends were walking on. It was bifurcating like the branch of a tree growing bigger, shaping a body and a character of its own.
Unsurprisingly, the initial indifference that he felt toward not being able to hang out with his friends that weekend turned into relief, even enthusiasm. At the moment he was almost glad to be away from their curiosity, at least for a couple of days.
...
Saturday arrived too quickly for Ralph's taste. He fumbled agitated through the house, picking up the attention of his father once again, to his demise. This was the second time he was going to Merridew's house and he had to precisely remember the steps that was he was about to take. He couldn't comprehend why his mind always had to make things so difficult, why this nervousness repeatedly took hold of him every time he planned his meetings with Merridew. He thought he would have felt more relaxed about it by then, but no, he still felt like he was about to go through a clinical exam – palms sweaty, mind racy, vision unclear.
"Big day?" His father interfered nonplussed. Ralph just shook his head, purposely avoiding his gaze.
"Just-just a party." He stammered. "Nothing important." His father nodded meditative.
"Perhaps I can drive you there." The fair boy suddenly jumped at the suggestion. He looked up in alarm, but then mentally slapped himself for seeming so terrified, because that would instigate his father's prying even more so. Taming his features into false calm, he cleared his throat.
"No need, dad. I'm meeting with my friends by the fence. We'll take the bus to Samneric." His father nodded, smiling furtively.
"Someone important at the party, by any chance?" Ralph cringed inwardly. He almost forgot his father thought he had a secret fancy. That wasn't entirely untrue, only that the 'secret' part was illegal and the 'fancy' part was mindless carnal pleasure. Still, he had to continue putting up the pretense of having a girl, in order for his father to find an explanation to his anxiety.
"Yeah, she's-" He paused, carefully choosing his words. "She will be there."
His father's features illuminated as if receiving the best news in the world, and Ralph felt as if he was dying on the inside. He turned to stone when his father leaned over the table to slap him amicably on the shoulder.
"I'm glad to hear it, Ralph. You youngsters must have the time of your life. This is the best age one could be at."
It would probably be best, Ralph decided, to get this out of his way before he lost his nerve and would barricade himself in his room for real this time, wallowing in guilt and self-pity. Afternoon and then evening came even faster, and he ran out of the house before his father had the time to ask more questions.
It was quite chilly, clouds darkening the city with the threat of rain. He tightened his light jean jacket around him as soon as he stepped out of the bus and could already see Merridew's ominous house from a distance. Anxiety intensified his chills and he forced himself to remember Merridew's previous words, his warning of simply taking the main route to the house. The faces of the servants floated around his mind again and he swallowed the knot in his throat, knowing he and Merridew would be kept under surveillance once more, while committing those atrocities.
The same smiling woman opened the door for him, but she didn't have to force his way up the stairs, because he followed the familiar path willingly this time. For some reason, the house always struck him in an unpleasant manner each time he saw it. The dark allure that surrounded it only spurred a bitter, sharp sensation in his stomach, and he tried to ignore the fact that the other servers were roaming around and pretending he wasn't there. On the way up, he couldn't also help but notice a few paintings and photos that were hanging on the walls, something that his eye hadn't caught the first time.
Now Ralph could almost see where Merridew got his rigid features and severe expression from; the only traits that he had inherited from his mother were the rusty colour of his hair and the abundance of freckles. The rest of his physiognomy didn't have anything from her, as she appeared to have a softness that was unrecognizable in Merridew. On the other side, he was the spitting image of his dark-haired father, who was an older version of Merridew: the same ice-blue eyes, the same strong, sharp jaw, the same aquiline nose.
He averted his gaze uncomfortable. He had seen the older Merridews a couple of times before, at the weekly Sunday ceremonies, but had never studied their physique properly. Not that he'd had any interest in them until recently, since he had never wanted to know anything about Merridew himself, much less about his family.
Reaching the front of the mahogany door that belonged to Merridew's bedroom, he closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. He had thought he would be more enthusiastic once he got there, when in fact, it was the opposite. Jitters pricked his skin and he barely felt any of the sexual excitement that had plagued him the whole week. Merridew's house always tampered with his disposition.
Once he ended up in between the familiar dark-blue walls, it dawned on him that Merridew was nowhere to be seen. The room was empty. He turned, attempting to have a word with the amiable maid, but she had disappeared down the dark hall as soon as she had dropped him there. He hoped Merridew hadn't forgotten about their planned meeting and that he was still there in the house, just making Ralph wait, as it would have been typical of him.
In the meantime, Ralph took his chance to study Merridew's room better. A huge, dark wooden clock was pinned to the wall above the bed, its ornate numbers displaying seven o'clock in the evening; the books and paper sheets were more scattered than Ralph had remembered. He approached the book case and noticed that an open book had been separately placed from the others, turned upside down. The cover showed an ambiguous title, "An approach to unconventional relationships". He frowned and wondered for a moment if Merridew was taking this more seriously than he had thought. Relationship? He dismissed it quickly, because that would be impossible. Merridew didn't consider what they had a relationship and neither should Ralph. He thought himself to be foolish to allow such a thought to surface so easily. Perhaps Merridew had other intimate relationships with other people as well. That must have surely been the case. No, he was definitely not reading that book with their affair in mind. He probably didn't even have anything particular in mind and just read it for leisure. His tendency to internally overreact over every little thing that Merridew did had to reach an end.
After a short while which had seemed like an eternity, the fair boy started losing his patience. Half an hour already passed and the conviction that their meeting had slipped Merridew's mind strengthened in Ralph's mind. He was heading for the door, when its sudden movement stopped him in his tracks, as Merridew stood in front of him, clad in black, his religious apprentice robe loosely hanging open on his shoulders.
"Where have you been?" The words left Ralph's mouth, too quickly and too accusingly, to his displeasure. Merridew raised an eyebrow.
"Checking on me already and we haven't even moved in together yet, darling." Ralph's face turned beet red under his amused eye, anger and embarrassment tightening in his belly at Merridew's jest. His hand ruffled through his pale locks in frustration.
"We were supposed to meet more than half an hour ago." He spurted out. "If you think you can do me like that, like I'm just an idiot that is willing to wait indefinitely for you-"
"Calm yourself, golden boy, I've just finished my practice for the day later than usually, that's it. I haven't forgotten about you, in case you were wondering." He smirked, unloosing his tie, before he sluggishly dragged himself and crashed into a chair by the window. His skin seemed even paler, almost transparent, and dark circles extended under his eyes. It dawned on Ralph that Merridew was not eighteen yet and he was already overworking like a maniac. This didn't exactly surprise him given Merridew's obsessive-compulsive tendencies, but also didn't leave him indifferent for some disconcerting reason.
There was a heavy, awkward silence that temporarily ruled, and Ralph had the wild impression for a moment that Merridew had fallen asleep. He tentatively approached and then could better see on his half shadowed face that Merridew was watching him intently with heavy eyelids. His typical smirk was not present anymore though. They were both waiting. Ralph knew what for, but he didn't attempt making the first move. Merridew had always been the one doing it. Why should it be different this time?
"Well then," He started clumsily, fidgeting with the sleeve of his jacket, "Should we not," He paused and pursed his lips. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Merridew continued measuring him intensely.
"Should we what?" Merridew answered tauntingly. "Do you have anything in mind, golden boy?" Ralph remained impassive, hovering indecisively. He returned Merridew's daring stare, but still didn't move an inch.
"You know what I came here for." He ventured, his voice quiet, less brash now, less intense. Almost timid.
"Then do what you came here for." Merridew firmly retorted, stretching a hand out and motioning him to approach. "Come. Kneel." He was playing his card, Ralph was aware of it. He was manipulating him into actively participating into their game. Into descending to his level. Ralph's sexual frustration and awaiting reached extreme highs and with each second Merridew's torture just brought him to his limit, where he would just finally give in. With each moment he moved a little bit closer, against his will, against his nature. The devil's charms tore at him, moved him through the air as if he was a marionette.
He knelt and watched Merridew like in a trance. Watched him open the zip of his black fabric trousers and pull his cock out. It was an almost out-of-body experience, a sentiment where he was observing the scene from afar, not knowing what would happen next. He remembered Merridew doing it to him, just taking his cock into his mouth, licking and sucking on it, but he still wasn't sure what to do. It was something he had never imagined himself doing, a rite of passage from where he could never return.
He tentatively put his hand around Merridew's cock, slowly feeling it under his sweaty palms, the softness and the hardness of it. It was true he had been wondering about Merridew's cock before, as he had caught glimpses of it. His imagination had not let him down. It was longer and slightly thicker than Ralph's and thick dark auburn hairs sprung at the base of it. Gently, he started squeezing and rubbing, up and down. Merridew released a heavy sigh that he had seemed to be holding in all along.
"Good." He muttered, leaning back into his chair. "Very good." Long, rough fingers slowly went through the fair boy's hair, caressing pale tresses, patiently waiting for Ralph to explore, to touch, to get used to the new intimacy, although not for long. Soon enough, Ralph suddenly felt a pressure on the back of his head, as his face was being pushed closer toward Merridew's crotch. He slightly resisted out of last vague traces of decency, before his curiosity made him open his mouth and put his lips around the tip first, tongue hesitantly licking at it, and Merridew hissed, seeming to lose his mind.
Ralph would have never thought that he would enjoy such a thing, but he couldn't deny that he did. The taste of Merridew was strange, but not unpleasant. He could feel the warmth of it, pulsating into his wet mouth, and with each pulsation his own cock was throbbing harder. And there was a certain heady thrill in learning Merridew, in finding the places where he was most sensitive. In making his breathing hitch and the muscles in his stomach tighten. Merridew's hands were in his hair again, pulling and pushing at his head, guiding his movements with new urgency.
"How does it feel, having my cock in your pretty mouth? Suck on it while I'm wearing my cassock, like the little dirty slut you are." Merridew sighed derisively, tightening his hand into Ralph's hair. Fire grew in Ralph's belly, burning in his cock, arousal filling him to the brim like poison. He lapped at Merridew's long shaft, feeling every bit of sensitive skin under his tongue, the pulsing of it sending hot excitement into his core, making him shamelessly moan. A guttural groan escaped Merridew as he forced Ralph's mouth on his cock, until it hit the back of his throat and he choked; the force, the gagging sensation, and the humiliation of it stirring him up painfully hard. He quivered, transpiration sticking his hair to his temples, his mouth full of cock and his own cock already leaking. He wouldn't be able to last again and Merridew seemed to have realized it.
His head was suddenly, aggressively dragged back by Merridew's hand, his mouth letting go of Merridew's cock with a wet pop, a string of saliva leaving his glistening mouth. His indecent gaze was open, lewd, and defying as he watched Merridew through golden eyelashes, eyes and mouth shining, face glowing warm in the orange light of the dusk that fell through the window. Merridew's face was shadowed but Ralph could sense the intensity of his ice-blue eyes on his skin. They were both heavily breathing and thrumming with energy for a quick moment, before Merridew got up in one swift move and dragged him along. His tongue forced its way into Ralph's mouth in a rough lip-lock, his hands savagely roaming all over Ralph's body as he backed him up into the bed.
The fair boy tried not to pay heed to his heart that was thudding crazily each and every time they were doing this. Each time Merridew hungrily swept into his mouth with fervour, as if that would be their first and last snog. Merridew removed Ralph's jacket and lifted his shirt up his arms to throw it on the floor, before resuming their heated kiss, mouths fiercely clashing into each other. He felt Merridew's hand on the buckle of Ralph's jeans – unzipping in one smooth motion; he didn't completely remove his jeans though, only dragged them a few inches below his arse. Merridew then turned him around to lie on his stomach, before he climbed on his back and caught his wrists into a steady grip and Ralph sensed something cold and metallic clink around each one of them. He attempted to jerk out of the clutches, but his hands remained immobilized.
"Hey!" Ralph hollered. "What-"
"Just a little incentive added to keep your hands where they belong." Merridew's breathy voice spoke into his ear. "No worry, your handcuffs are quite loose and if you want to put a stop to this, you only have to say the word 'hymn'." Ralph couldn't help but snort.
"Seriously?" He craned his neck as much as he was able to in order to catch a glimpse of Merridew's figure. "'Hymn'?" He repeated slyly.
Merridew didn't answer. Instead, Ralph heard him quickly move around the room for a brief moment before he resumed his position by the bed and the fair boy wavered as he felt Merridew's cool hand trace over the small of his back, going down his bare arse.
"Did you like me spanking you the last time, Foley?" Merridew inquired. Ralph squirmed uncomfortably but didn't offer a reply, the recollection of Merridew's big hand ruthlessly falling against his sensitive backside messing with his head, unbelievably arousing him, even though he tried to not let it be visible how easily it affected him. Merridew's harsh fingers dug into his buttock and his body clenched vulnerable. He had always felt too unprepared for Merridew's callous sexual practices, because it had always felt like he was too uninitiated into the art of sex to be so savagely and directly thrown into this hedonistic thrill. He was grateful for it at the same time, because otherwise he would have never discovered the terrific extent of gratification that he could reach this way.
He jumped and gasped at the sensation of a thin piece of leather sliding over his back to caress his buttocks and upper thighs as Merridew lightly drew something unrecognizable over his skin.
"My hands are rough, but they are nothing compared to this." Merridew whispered obscenely, softly tracing the leather up and down over his tight arse. "This will cut through your skin, break into the flesh." A knot tightened in Ralph's throat and his belly fluttered at the notion of his posterior being destroyed by an even harsher object wielded by Merridew. His cock trembled, wobbling into the mattress beneath him, and he gulped.
"I wish to know if I will get your consent for this." Merridew carried on. Ralph frowned, somewhat taken aback by this statement.
"Since when do you need my consent to do anything to me?" He inquired rattled, but impatient all the same. Pain was the best way through which he got off, Merridew must have surely known it by then. Heck, he had done so many different nasty things to Ralph that this scenario of Merridew being careful with him seemed almost impossible. And yet it was happening.
He whimpered when Merridew suddenly squeezed his arse cheek.
"Not anything." Merridew retorted slightly peeved and Ralph bit his lip, trying not to get out a moan. "This is not anything." He repeated. "This can be extremely painful, Foley. And if you don't want me to-"
"Do it." Ralph interrupted overwrought, unable to handle the suspense anymore. Merridew paused, not reacting to his answer, and Ralph whined in exasperation.
"I said I want it, Merridew. It's not that difficult to-"
He then heard a brief hissing noise and a loud crack as a whip sliced across his arse. He cried out and jerked, stinging pain flaring across his nether parts and outward from the stripe, seeming to jolt through his entire body.
"One." Merridew said clinically as Ralph struggled to draw a breath in shock, adrenaline pumping into him at the realization that he was being whipped. He shuddered and struggled, his cock quivering in elation under his belly, his head high on the rush of maddening pain.
"Oh f-fuck,"
"Two." A second blow crossed over the first and Ralph leapt and contorted his body tightly, as he felt like sticks of fire had been laid across his arse, the flare of heat torturously spreading outward to his profusely leaking cock.
"Do you enjoy this?" Merridew questioned dangerously. He grabbed the wounded flesh of his arse with a callous hand and Ralph panted and made a choked noise, fighting to hold still. "Do you think it's nice, having your tight arse beaten to a bloody pulp?" He asked through heavy breaths, administering a whip for the third time. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Ralph convulsed and shamelessly screamed, his whole body sweating into the sheets underneath him that turned damp with perspiration and precome.
"I-I do-," He blurted deliriously, instinctively pushing his arse up in the air. His toes dug into the silky sheets, his body arching up so strongly he thought he would snap in two. Shaking, almost wanting to cry, clinging to the cuffs, not caring when they cut into his wrists and pulled tight.
"Six." The blow struck hard into his almost numb arse, making him see stars, drowning his body in violent waves of gratuitous pleasure. He wheezed, face twisted in need, and he knew that another single scorching stroke would have been enough for him to fly and fall apart.
„I think that's enough for the time being." Merridew finally said in a strangled voice, and Ralph heard the whip hit the floor, more quickly than he would have wanted it. He would have sagged with relief, except Merridew's palm replaced the whip, tracing over Ralph's throbbing arse. He squirmed as Merridew pressed his lips into his burning buttock without any warning, licking and kissing and biting at the bruised skin, then pried his cheeks open and started tongue-fucking him, stabbing at him again and again with hot, wet, exquisite tongue.
"You are an extremely twisted fuck, Foley," Merridew muttered in between licks, "Enjoying being spanked with a riding crop hmm," He sucked then pushed his tongue as far as it could get inside and Ralph whimpered incoherently. "Liking to have your arse eaten out". His teeth grazed the small, wet puckered hole and Ralph's hips bucked up spasmodic and helpless into Merridew's mouth. "I'm sure people would be highly disturbed."
"A-ah, I can't-"
Merridew viciously licked a path up and down from Ralph's crack to his balls, while kneading his abused arse, and the fair boy couldn't hold it in anymore. He cried in shock and held on to the cuffs with his dear life as his cock fully burst out under his stomach, creating a mess in between himself and the sheets.
He didn't have time to relax into the aftermath of the orgasm, because he immediately heard Merridew tut in between deep, ragged breaths.
"Always so easy." He chided and Ralph choked on his spit when Merridew's lubed cock slowly started pushing past his inner walls. "Too easy to fully enjoy my cock," He grunted, thrusting once, twice, and then drawing almost completely out. He repeated the motion and Ralph moaned as new prickles were being sent straight to his dick. He was so open that he pushed back against Merridew, moving his hips in jerky circles, welcoming the all familiar stretch.
"I want you to stay here tonight, Foley," Merridew said, grabbing his waist and slightly lifting him off the bed, bringing him to stand on all fours with trembling limbs. He keened as Merridew hit his pelvis into his arse, his cock roughly tearing through him, until the shaft was almost fully buried inside him. The sounds of their gasping breaths and skin lapping together was pushing him to the brink of his impending second orgasm. He tried to think through all of it, but couldn't, couldn't process clearly what Merridew was telling him. "I want you to stay here with me tonight."
"I will," He succumbed, losing the last fragments of rationality.
"Swear it," Merridew insisted. "Swear you won't leave." His breath was hot against Ralph's ear, coming in gasps as uneven as his own.
"Ah-ah, I swear," He moaned, thrusting his hips back desperately and nearly bawling as Merridew violently spilled within him with one hand pressed in the small of Ralph's back and another in a death grip around his hip, filling him up with an agonizing groan. Ralph shuddered and gasped and reeled as his body rocked with the pulses of his second release immediately after, spasms coursing through his body in excruciating ripples. His hands and legs gave up under him and he fell spent on the clammy bed under Merridew's heavy body.
…
He did stay the whole night, although he had felt tricked as Merridew had forced the promise out of him in the middle of their heated joining, when Ralph barely possessed any shreds of conscience. He hadn't put up a fight, because he had been too tired and too weak to go against Merridew at that moment. Merridew was acting suspiciously decent to him during the remaining time that they had together, going to the point where he actually spoiled Ralph with food and drinks and exposed him to different aspects of his private life – talking about particular prizes that he had won as a choir boy and as a musician in the past as well as about his achievements in the soccer team, and Ralph almost felt for a moment as if they were friends relating about trivial things. Almost. A strange feeling remained in his gut the whole time as he watched Merridew's naked lean body carelessly moving through the room, then returning to him on the bed, his sharp blue eyes looking at him with an almost childlike excitement as he was talking about his past.
Truthfully, he was weirded out by it because it seemed as if he wasn't interacting with the vicious, malicious Merridew that he had known almost his entire life, but with someone else that had replaced him. His mind was drowsy from the orgasms and from the whisky that he was pouring down his throat, making everything seem like a dream, an alternate reality where this softness between them could have become a reality. He managed to allow himself to relax, nearly forgetting about the fact that they hated each other's guts and that their relationship was too toxic for such a thing to be possible. But then again, the impossible turned possible multiple times that evening and he tried to stop himself from overthinking, at least for one night.
They messily fucked a couple more times late in the night, too drunk and too sloppy for sadomasochistic sex to work, just Merridew randomly grabbing at his hips whenever he felt like it and carelessly taking him from the side and then again from the back. He didn't know when they stopped talking and continued enjoying each other's company in silence, he just remembered that they passed out at around four in the morning, everything a mess, both of them slick and sweaty, the sheets on the bed a disaster beneath them.
The morning after, he felt as if he had been thrown out from the third floor of an apartment building, the pain in his body exceeding even the ones that he had got during his previous fights with Merridew. He was worse than he could ever remember and his terrible hangover just added to his misery.
"Are you alright?" Was the first thing that he heard out of Merridew's mouth and he froze remembering that everything had been too out of the ordinary the previous night and that this whole surreal experience in which Merridew was a nice bloke to him was apparently still going on in the morning. He furrowed his brow and tried to stand up, but he seemed to be paralyzed from the pain, and so he merely winced and groaned. Merridew approached him and placed an arm around his torso, trying to soothe him, and Ralph tried to push him away with a bothered look.
"What is wrong with you?" He suddenly inquired, genuinely upset eyes boring into Merridew's wide confused ones. "Why are you acting like this?" Merridew slightly backed away from him, a frown on his face forming at the accusation.
"What do you mean?" His hand fell from Ralph's waist as if it was burning him and a sudden hollowness chewed at Ralph's insides. He knew Merridew was bluffing again, feigning ignorance just like he always did. A state of irritability gripped him all of a sudden.
"You are nice to me. " He huffed. "Hell, even affectionate." He enunciated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What are you scheming this time? What do you want?" As if detonating a bomb, Merridew's features abruptly hardened. He jumped out of the bed quicker than a bullet, face reddening in anger.
"You're such a bloody self-righteous little prick, aren't you," Merridew venomously bit through gritted teeth. "Always thought you're better than everyone, the only one who has fucking morals." Ralph looked at him mutely in surprise, his earlier defiance completely dissolved for a moment, before the blazing rush of antagonism quickly stormed through him. He pushed past the mind-numbing pain in his body in order to stand up himself and face Merridew.
"I knew it. It's always just a pretense with you, isn't it? Always a mind game. You are only capable of manipulating and destroying the people around you, you're a beast that's what you are." He couldn't stop himself as hurtful words poured out his mouth one after another, sparks of hot, white anger flying around the edges of his vision.
Merridew barked a laugh, his eyes suddenly turning cold. It was like he suddenly metamorphosed into this vicious thing, as if everything soft that had been going on until then had all played out in Ralph's fantasy, because there was no trace left of that anymore.
"I don't believe I've seen anyone more dense in my whole shitty life, Foley." He scornfully pointed out. "Please tell me more of what I am, because it fucking thrills me." Automatically, unthinkingly, Ralph approached him like a small tornado, the flames in his mind searing through him, turning Merridew's evil face in a blur.
"I'll tell you what you are," He spat into Merridew's face, "You're a bloody tyrant who has never known any kind of friendship, or devotion, or the joy of having someone to care about. You're a snake who abandons his friends and then oppresses, harasses, and threatens them for years because he doesn't know anything about all of that. And no matter how much you pretend that you're suddenly different, you won't ever rectify anything you have caused, because I'll always despise you, Merridew!" He finished his rant, heavily breathing, burning eyes slashing into Merridew's petrified face. The silence that followed was deafening. Merridew's eyes seemed to bulge out, mad and bolting, his pale blue irises eerily shifting into the mania.
"Get the fuck out." He got out in a throttled voice. His whole body was shaking, in rage, in madness, his huge ego probably bruised, Ralph reckoned in disgust. He suddenly felt empty and shaky and entirely unlike himself, and he all wanted was to throw more hurtful words at Merridew, but he felt physically and mentally drained. He couldn't believe it for a moment, but he felt his eyes almost getting wet, and he tried not to blink in order to prevent it. Merridew seeing him tearing up would have been the last thing he ever wanted to happen.
"It hurts doesn't it," He weakly asked in an anguished voice, the shaking of his body matching that of Merridew's. "The truth."
"I said out!" Merridew roared as he grabbed the first thing in his reach, which was the plate that they ate together on last night, and threw it at the wall behind him with all of his strength, the plate crashing into the wall with a deafening sound and shattering into a thousand of pieces.
Ralph swivelled on his feet and stared wide-eyed at a panting, enraged Merridew. His eyes and head were in agonizing pain and he tried to regain control over his body as tremors overtook him. Then he leaned over, found his clothes on the floor, and messily put them on as quickly as he could. He turned and hesitated for a moment, gut twisted in sickness and resentful stare challenging the inferno in Merridew's eyes.
"Don't come near me again." Ralph said with brutal finality and Merridew grabbed a glass with a mad yell and smashed it against the door that Ralph promptly slammed behind him. He heard Merridew create a ruckus and destroy his room in violent fits of temper as he further walked down the hall in a shuddering rush.
And for some disturbing reason, his whole being was crushed by an ache that had nothing to do with the wounds on his body.