Descent

by HitTheRoad

Ralph just needs to settle some priorities. Mature/Dark AU.

8. Infatuation

The way to Merridew's house was silent. The shock of the most recent occurrence still unsettled their spirit, so they could not open up any conversation that would not lead to the increase in anxiety. The fair boy's gaze fell all over the place; out the window, on the buildings and houses that played out like shadows on a dark veil, on the lampposts that brightened the sky. His eyes then remained on his fiddling fingers in his lap, trying to evade the thoughts that insisted on the horror that would follow up, now that that the indecent secrecy was out, exposed to individuals of the worst sort.

The engine of the car suddenly went still, so he looked up to see they found themselves in a closed space, as he could not distinguish anything but an obscure wall in front of them. He finally found the will to turn his eyes to Merridew, who had already been watching him with impassive eyes. Merridew didn't say anything, to Ralph's relief, he just simply made a motion for Ralph to follow him. The fair boy swallowed dryly, the instinct to flee away still pestering him, even though he tried to encourage himself again. He had told himself he would not let himself be entirely bothered by the fright anymore, and he needed to hold on to that promise.

They made their way through a large garage that was occupied by more cars than Merridew had previously mentioned. Ralph could count at least ten, all in black, navy, and burgundy colours, vaguely illuminated by the light that fell through the narrow, square-like windows; he could discern a Cobra, a Maserati, and a couple of Mustangs. His mouth fell open at the sight, and he threw Merridew a skeptical look that required an explanation.

"My parents rent their garage, alright," He grunted in annoyance. "Just another source of money." A hint of unrest nudged at him, as he let his gaze trail over the very large garden, which amounted to at least a hectare, flanked by large hedgerows, tall oaks, and the choicest of flowers, adorned with a gold-ridged large fountain that towered at the centre of it. He could not remember ever having the chance to interact with someone with this much affluence; none of his parents' previous acquaintances rose to possess half of this fortune. He became aware that the Merridew family might have been one of the wealthiest – if not the wealthiest- families in the region. The back of the classy, but threatening form of the mansion rose above them like a monstrosity.

The house was still at that late hour, so they sneaked in quietly, almost as if they were two muggers. Once they reached Merridew's too familiar bedroom, which oddly seemed to bring some sort of mental comfort to Ralph, he tossed a pair of his nightclothes to Ralph, which he accepted without any word back. Almost everything was non-verbal communication; eyes meeting, hands fleetly touching, feet shuffling as they followed each other's movement. He could not hold back from thinking this was the strangest that had happened between them until now – understanding one other so thoroughly, for such a long period of time, with barely any words being exchanged.

He realized Merridew's nightclothes were somewhat large on him when he settled himself in between the sheets, and that his head was painfully throbbing, his ears almost screeching from the ache that pulsed beneath his skull. He slightly jolted when he felt Merridew breathe into the back of his neck, even though he didn't reach out to Ralph. He was probably still hesitant about touching Ralph in a way other than sexual, due to the blatant rejection that Ralph had shown him every time that had happened; when Merridew's arm wrapped around him for the first time, a week ago, in the very same room, or when he had too softly leaned into Ralph, after their last sexual encounter at Ralph's place. He gulped as his heart pumped too harshly against his ribs, and he realized he needed it this time. He needed the comfort, and even though he was not one who would seek for consolation, he told himself, he realized that he had missed this. That he had not had this ever since he was a child. No one had hugged him or offered him any physical comfort ever since his mother died.

So he bit his lip and ignored the drift of pride that tenaciously latched onto him, insisting that this was not ever supposed to be happening between himself and Merridew. He shoved his protesting thoughts aside, as he reached out and brought Merridew's arm around himself. He felt Merridew stiffen for one moment, his breath hitching, as Ralph brought him closer. Merridew then tightened the embrace, his chest pressing against Ralph's back, his warmth immediately flowing into Ralph's body, and even though Ralph was the one who had initiated it, his face burned at the new intimate touch; his body warmly tensed at the enthusiasm with which Merridew held him into his arms, showing a fondness that he had never thought Merridew to be capable of.

It didn't take long for the fair boy's mind and body to soften as well, and the trepidation that had troubled him until then considerably ebbed away as his consciousness faded into darkness.

…

It was very early in the morning when he woke up. Probably little over six o'clock, as obscurity still partially veiled the sky and the morning light had not flooded the room yet. He sensed Merridew toss and turn next to him, so he rubbed into his eyes and faced him, his mind blurry from the lack of sleep.

"What are you doing?" Ralph mumbled in a raspy voice. When his sight had cleared up, he almost jumped back at Merridew's expression, which seemed to hold fierce, even frightening determination; it was almost shocking to see that at the first hours of the morning. His eyes were wide and shifting, opaque from sleep deprivation, and his face bloomed into a manic smile when he saw Ralph was awake.

"I've been thinking," He started out in a ramble, and Ralph noticed that his voice was too low, even ragged, the smell of cigarettes too strong in his breath. It didn't take him long to realize Merridew had not closed an eye the whole night, even more, that he had been trotting through his house in agitation, chasing his cigarettes and his booze. "I'm cautious of Roger, even though I'm not afraid of him." He continued without waiting for an answer or any sign of understanding from the fair boy. "I would very much like to believe he won't say anything, because I possess information about him that no other people do. He's in the same situation as me, if he dares to spill, then I'll do it as well." He startled Ralph when he leapt out of the bed in one move, and started pacing again, lost into the storm of his own mind. "But I'm not sure whether I want to wait to see that happen." He gritted out to himself, staring with a deep, frantic look at the bookcase, and it suddenly snapped in Ralph's mind that Merridew might have been more concerned about this whole situation than he was, in spite of Merridew's aloof pretense.

It made sense though, as what was left of Merridew's reputation would be entirely ruined if that occurred. The expectations and vision his parents probably had of him and his position at the church would be repudiated. Ralph didn't exactly have a reputation to hold on to, even though the idea that this knowledge would reach his father's ears brought him on the edge. They were both anxious wrecks by that point, even though he suspected he might still be the saner one in this situation. His suspicion proved to be true, when Merridew approached and loomed over him, the intensity in his crazed eyes making Ralph feel as if his mind was being defiled. He shuddered and recoiled as Merridew lay down and shifted close to him.

"We can go away, you know," An odd, misplaced softness briefly overcame him as his hand brushed along Ralph's side, caressed his waist with rough fingers, even though his restless energy still throttled the air around them. The fair boy stared back with wide eyes, stiff and apprehensive. "Just like that, without anyone realizing it. I can transfer both of us for the last half of year, I have connections in London, we'll take our exams there, and I'll eventually inform my parents that I'll continue my training-"

True panic gripped the fair boy at his words. The prospect of committing such a reckless act, of running away without any last word to his father, to his friends, of never seeing them again, left him in cold fright. He'd had the intention to leave after graduation, to get far away from them, but not in such a brutal manner, to the point where he would completely disappear from their lives without any trace. His breathing stopped in his throat, before he broke off from Merridew.

"You're mad!" He exclaimed, the panic crippling his limbs as he tried to back away from Merridew's insistent desperation. "I can't leave my dad just like that, or my friends!" He turned away, even though the bastard didn't seem to be fazed by his protestation. He instantly followed Ralph, grabbed his upper arm to turn him back to him, apparently resolute in his purpose of convincing Ralph of his plan.

"Do you want to wait until Roger will get whatever revenge he's plotting and fuck us both up?" He snapped, annoyance written all over his features as he tightened his fingers into the flesh of his arm. The panic in the fair boy's mind got gradually taken over by reason, and he began to understand Merridew's judgement. He gulped.

"But you said you know things about him." He argued back with weak conviction. "Plus, he seems to be already aware of your-" He paused, as breathed out through his nose, suddenly bothered by the memory. "Previous affairs." He muttered, his voice much quieter now. He felt the bitter feeling rise up in his chest again. Merridew looked at him intently, appearing to think deeply about his words.

"That might be the case, but Roger is unpredictable. I don't believe he cares too much about his own future, so he won't give a damn if he is given away." He frowned at the thought. "He probably doesn't even care if he graduates, he would just randomly go about and recklessly follow up with illegalities until he gets caught, that fool." He disclosed, as the fair boy cautiously listened to him, quite uncomfortable about how nonchalantly Merridew spoke of his previous mates. He knew Merridew had started being quite open with him about some things, but he was not sure whether he was entirely at ease about being exposed to those wretched bastards' private lives. "Roger can be very negligent, even more so than I am, and he's not by my side anymore. Even though he knows quite a lot about my sexual life, he is very displeased with the fact that my loyalty lies with you now, so he won't be careful to keep that hidden anymore." Merridew finally admitted.

Ralph faltered, the reality of the peril that awaited for them striking him again. Still, this peril did not trouble his mind to the extent that Merridew's last words did at that moment. He felt his stomach tighten with some sort of terrible ache, his skin flushed in anger. That had been brought up too often in the past day, and although he didn't want to be acquainted with Merridew's prior obscenities, he suddenly felt that he needed to know. He needed to know the truth about Merridew's past. Merridew didn't seem to have taken notice of his trouble though, as he simply continued his discourse.

"Plus, Maurice also knows, and even though he's a devoted lad, he's got a big mouth-"

"How many partners did you have?" Ralph interrupted him bluntly. Merridew froze in his aimless talk. He furrowed his brow.

"What are you-" He started out, but Ralph spoke over him again, aggravated by the act Merridew was putting up, pretending he didn't understand his question.

"How many people did you sleep with, Jack?" He repeated in exasperation. Merridew remained silent, his expression completely unguarded. It seemed as if he didn't want to respond to that, which was the opposite of what Ralph had envisioned him doing in such a scenario. He had thought Merridew would immediately relate about his accomplishments in this aspect, prideful and boasting. He was, instead, watching Ralph with a caution that simply left the fair boy baffled. Merridew let a heavy breath out as he run a hand through his hair in nervousness.

"Do you think I keep count of that, golden boy?" He incredulously inquired. He resorted to nicknames again, Ralph realized with a frown. He could see Merridew attempting to simulate, returning to his old game of cool indifference. He would not escape this interrogatory that easily though. Ralph narrowed his eyes as he approached him, searching his face, their noses almost touching.

"How many." He stubbornly insisted. Merridew hardened his jaw. "I think we are supposed to be honest with each other, if we will continue this," He carried on with a false hint of threat, his curiosity devouring him on the inside. "If you still want me here, then-", Merridew abruptly sprung out of bed with a growl. He walked back and forth, anxious and brooding, before he stopped in front of Ralph, rubbing a palm over his face. The fair boy sat up on the bed with a wild heart, dread stirring him up at the revelation that this might have been worse than he had thought.

"You will tell me you despise me again, if I'll be honest with you about this, I fucking know it." Merridew blurted out breathlessly. Ralph nervously clenched his fists around the sheets. He pressed his lips together, his features tightening in his persistence.

"It's not like I don't entirely despise you anymore, in any case." He scoffed. Merridew's shoulders shook with a bitter laugh, his face equally flushed now.

"Alright, do you really want to know?" He retorted, a deranged smile forming on his face, his gaze far-away though, looking as if he forced himself to speak out. Ralph nodded cautiously. A stringent look crossed Merridew's features. "Seventeen." Was the short, rigid answer. Ralph blinked as he took the information in, his mind empty for a few moments, his body released of any feeling. That was, until a sickness suddenly washed over him, turning the contents of his stomach in a tumble. His skin paled as his thoughts cluttered. The word echoed inside his mind.

"Seventeen." He repeated emptily, staring at Merridew, but not exactly at him. Merridew stared back with drawn breath, his whole face petrified as he tried to read Ralph's response. "Seventeen." Ralph quietly muttered again to himself, as if a trance had taken over him.

"I knew it," Merridew began heatedly, "I knew you were going to react like this-", His frenzied voice brought Ralph back to his senses. He swallowed heavily as he tried not to let himself blow up into a fit. He had done that too often with Merridew. Too often had he allowed Merridew to affect him, to break him, over and over. He should have never wanted to know. He should have listened to Merridew's warning. His curiosity always had to get the best of him, and now he would regret this his whole life. He could not stop what he had started though. This senseless hysteria that simmered in him, an absurd, growing desire to know more and more, that pushed him to the brink of clinging to this mental suffering that Merridew instigated in him, with every act and word that he delivered.

"Was it both boys and girls?" He could hear his own voice, feeble and choked. Merridew's chest heaved as he tensely breathed in and out, wary of Ralph's odd reactions. He then reluctantly nodded.

It should have been obvious to him. Merridew had always had a predatory, devious aura around most people, he couldn't deny that, except he had always thought this attitude had mostly been reserved for more formal goals. It seemed Merridew had been using his talent for manipulation for absolutely everything, Ralph thought with a twinge of revulsion. He remembered now that he had spotted Merridew many times, too closely leaning into some of their classmates, except he had never taken the time to analyse it, had never had any interest in Merridew's private affairs. Images of that pretty brunette, the class-president that Merridew had more than a few times improperly touched in their previous school years quickly flashed before his eyes; or of the bubbly blonde lass who laughed too loudly at Merridew's nasty jests, or the smart bloke who intensely admired Merridew, who was always cheering for Merridew during their soccer practices. Hell, he had now even realized that Merridew had sometimes too inappropriately let his hands feel his own faithful mate, Roger Black himself. He could see now that Merridew also had a type- confident individuals who would have not too easily submitted to Merridew, who posed a challenge, who would have offered him the animal pleasure of the chase, something akin to a hunt. And Ralph had been the epitome of that.

"Look, Ralph, that's in the past now," Merridew broke the silence, mouth a tight line, fists restlessly clenching and unclenching at his sides, frustration edging his tone of voice. "You're the only person I'm sexually intimate with at the moment, so that shouldn't be of any importance anymore." The fair boy shook his head, disregarding his attempt at evading the subject again. The ugly feeling was suffocating him, blurring his sight, a soreness which turned dull in his core.

"Did you also have Black?" He stiffly inquired, already knowing the answer. He could not believe he had felt mortified about the prospect of that sod finding out about his queer inclinations, when he had been engaging in similar activities. Merridew exhaled loudly, the severity in his features deepening.

"And if I did? What is it to you?" He bit back in retaliation. The fair boy avoided his fierce stare, cheeks burning, as he fretted to control the tumult that disquieted him. Merridew seeing him become so thoroughly upset by his old affairs would only boost his massive ego. It was too late though; Merridew understood all at once. His expression turned from harsh to confused, then to delighted, in only a matter of seconds. A spark of realization lighted the cold blue in his gaze. "Are you jealous?" He asked with a strange, disbelieving smile. Ralph jumped at the allegation, his heart hammering against his rib cage. He cursed himself as he felt his face explode in humiliation, giving him too easily away. He turned away from Merridew, slinging his legs over the edge of the bed, fumbling for his clothes.

"No, I'm not, I was just curious." He quickly feigned, as he released Merridew's nightclothes to get into his own jeans and shirt, trying to make it seem as if he was casually preoccupied with rushing for home.

"You are jealous." Merridew repeated with some sort of thrill, as if he had received his first Christmas present ever, and Ralph could hear his grin infuriatingly widening. "You like me." Ralph's body tensed, as he stopped in his movement. It was preposterous how, despite that they had been fucking for some time now, the idea of him actually liking Merridew meant something more, to both of them apparently. That the concept of him fostering the slightest positive feeling for this guy was something different, something better, that Merridew obviously enjoyed to an extreme level, given the triumph that played out in his voice. He just couldn't stand him, couldn't let him have his moment of jubilation, while Ralph was being disgraced by his gloating, the fact that Merridew could always find ways to bring his past offenses to his advantage; exposing the knowledge of him being a bloody adulterer to Ralph brought both of them the confirmation that Ralph ludicrously held more than a fancy for him. He always, always had to win in the end.

Ralph turned with a sharp look to him.

"Indeed, I very much like the fact that you are not only a bully, but also a deviant who has shagged at least half of our classmates." He snapped. "And I am very jealous about the possibility of now having contacted a sexually transmitted disease from a bloody huge pervert!" His voice rose in intensity, his whole body glowing with a blush. Merridew's grin faded away, which brought some sort of fulfillment, a first small victory in their most recent war. It seemed to him that, even though Ralph held some sort of inexplicable liking for Merridew, Merridew was still more foolishly infatuated with him, as he had been lately struggling to get in Ralph's good graces, a radical change from the old version of the arsehole.

"If you think I have no control over such a serious matter, that I just randomly fucked around without any care, then you still apparently don't know me." He declared with sudden sobriety, which made the fair boy slightly deflate and back away from the rising conflict. He huffed, suddenly wearied of their constant back-and-forth animosity. He resumed his search for his clothes in the mess that was Merridew's floor, as he attempted to avoid Merridew's eyes that were drilling holes into his back.

"I think I've come to realize now that I don't exactly know you, no." He acidly retorted, in a feeble attempt at reaching composure, finally spotting his jean jacket underneath Merridew's carelessly thrown underclothes. He pushed Merridew's shorts aside with a disgusted look, before he snatched his jacket out. He could feel Merridew sweat it out behind him, Ralph's sarcastic dismissal just bringing him on the edge of blowing like a volcano again. Steps came closer in rush, before a clawing hand caught Ralph's upper arm in a harsh grip to turn him around.

"You really are priss," He hotly spoke in Ralph's face, "No matter what I say or do, it never pleases you!" The burning wrath blew out of proportion; the crisis returned tenfold, at Merridew's words, at his gesture, at the fact that Merridew always thought he could so easily get the handle of him. He forcefully pulled his arm out of his grasp.

"And what should I exactly be pleased about?" He retaliated with a hard gaze, his voice rising to match Merridew's. Blood rushed into Merridew's face, the dust of freckles that had moderately faded over the years almost entirely disappearing into the wave of colour. Ralph could not stop himself from thinking that he looked like a bloody tomato. The sight along with the realization that he was the one who was riling Merridew up then offered him some sort of mean enjoyment, a childish revenge that he shouldn't have resorted to, and yet he did.

"The fact that at least I'm trying!" Merridew blew up. "I've been honest with you, I've been telling you what you wanted to know! I told you I didn't have anything to do with the attack of your mates, and you completely ignored that. Now I've told you about my past, which you requested, and you get bloody angry with me! Everything I say and do only seems to make it worse with you!" The malice only soared further in Ralph, blended into his temper, a mix that spurred out of bitter loathing and the enlightenment that Merridew's attitude was bringing him, the clear proof that Ralph held greater power over Merridew than he had initially assumed.

"And you think a few truths will make up for a past of wrongs?" Ralph bit back, the flush in his body only enhancing in accord with the anger and shame that mounted in him. He desperately wanted to strike him again, continue attacking him with those petty words that he had prepared on his tongue, but the impulse only dimmed into a pathetic formulation of disappointment, of genuine hurt. The hurt of the most recent discovery stunning him to the point that he could not find the strength to stick to vengeance. "Eventually, your truth always brings me the knowledge that you're worse than I thought." It came out, worn out, downright miserable. "Always worse, Jack." The humiliating crack in his voice was a ripple in the air between them, its sound remaining behind like a reverberation.

The bright red in Merridew's face faded into the pallid white, his blood draining away as he watched Ralph with consternation, a rigid emotion that took hold of his features, of his eyes that looked like two frosted pieces of glass. His face betrayed nothing for a moment, until the despair that he always seemed to hang onto every time Ralph denied him returned in expression. Ralph's breath caught in his throat when Merridew abruptly shifted closer to wrap his arm around the small of his back, pull him once again against his body in an embrace, except this despair seemed to be starker than the one he had shown last time, when he had come to him in the middle of the night.

"I've never given a bloody damn about any of them, Ralph." His mouth passionately muttered into his skin, lips tracing along his forehead, pressing into his brow. The fair boy's limbs quivered, a tremble that spiked into his very heart. The embrace was an aggressive hold, that Ralph couldn't stand against. It was a violent desire that moved the devil into action, that Merridew still descended into, in spite of the struggle that he put up to separate himself from it; something that he had chased Ralph with at the beginning, when he had attempted to catch him in his claws. Every time Merridew would be refused, he would find a way to return to the chase. And Merridew had felt Ralph's refusal, he had felt his instinct to reject him once again, in his painful accusation.

"I've never cared about anyone as much as I care about you." He finally confessed into the softness of the fair boy's locks. His hands uncontrollably roamed along Ralph's weak form, like an addict in the search for his fix. "Only you. It's been always you, for so long, longer than you'll ever know." He viciously declared, before he forcefully grabbed at the pale hair to bring his resistant mouth to his, claim it with an insatiable hunger, completely dismissing the unresponsive, limp form in his arm. The desire seeped from Merridew's body into his own, like a contagious disease. Except something else clung to it this time, which impeded him from reacting back, from either pulling Merridew tighter against his body or pushing him away. It was the dread of a recognition, the one that Merridew might not only hold a very intense passion for him, but something that bridged on an obsession. And it had not only been proven in the twisted acts that he had committed because of Ralph- having tormented him for years, manipulated him to get him into his bed, attacked his own mates-, but also in Merridew's choice of sexual partners, in his furious determination to possess everything that reminded him of the boy whom he so intensely fixated upon. It was in his actions, in his expressions, in his words, and he felt as if he had been trapped, just like a rabbit that had fallen into the pitfall of a dire huntsman.

There was nothing that could move him then. He was completely disarmed by the reality of the situation. He had not only been deceived by the level of depravity that Merridew could reach, but also by the fact that this depravity had mostly revolved around him, without him being entirely aware of it. He could only hear his palpitations, his rushed breathing, Merridew's groans as he breached his mouth, trying to violate him in his destructive lust. The ministrations did not last long though; the lack of response gradually reached Merridew's awareness. His tongue futilely twisted around Ralph's in a last attempt at bringing a reaction out of him, before he backed away with a clouded gaze. The cold eyes immediately sharpened at observing the fair boy's breathless, inflexible form.

An uncomfortable stillness ensued as the painful truth of what was their relation hung out unspoken between them. Emotionless constraint took over Merridew's features as he realized that he had given away too much, too quickly. His suddenly hard gaze vigilantly took in Ralph's reply, remarking the distraught turquoise eyes of the fair boy that looked back in silent understanding. It had not been the bullying; or the sexual attraction, or the infatuation. It had truly been a sick obsession. One that Merridew had been harboring for years most probably, something that had begun as revenge, but that had transformed into a delusion, a pursuit.

They both shifted when the spell between them broke at the striking of the clock, announcing the seventh hour of the Sunday morning. It reminded Ralph that he needed to be home again, and it reminded Merridew that he had a duty to attend to. He cautiously backed away from the fair boy.

"I'll drive you home." The tone was stoic, an almost complete turn from his earlier feverish state. Ralph nodded wordlessly, awkwardly watching Merridew's form that quickly moved to grab another elegant set of shirt and trousers from the large wardrobe that occupied an entire wall. The slip into new Oxfords was easy, and the robe that had been carelessly lying on the chair where Ralph had once put Merridew's cock into his mouth – he tried not to flinch as he remembered it- was immediately thrown over his shoulders.

Once they reached the hall, he realized the house thrummed again with the movement of the servers, and it seemed the agitation was for the purpose of a ceremony of some sort. Food was being brought from one place to another as furniture was being settled into place. Merridew grunted, irritated at the sight of it, and he completely ignored the turbulence that shook the entire place, as he made his way to the back of the house, into the garage.

"We better hurry up before my parents make their appearance." He grouchily muttered. The garden had now been bedecked with a number of tables and chairs carved of dark oak, the furniture having been strategically placed for an event which was surely a celebration. He remembered Merridew's mother mentioning a surprise, probably a festivity for Merridew's eighteenth birthday which, given the spiteful look in his eye, Merridew seemed to absolutely resent at that moment.

The suspense was like a boiling kettle on the way home. Bubbling in them as Merridew drove more recklessly than usually, swearing and hitting the horn for no good reasons at all, even almost driving over a pedestrian with intent, which earned him rounds of yells and scolding remarks from Ralph. The animosity blended in again, and they ended up almost in shambles in front of Ralph's house, flushed and breathless with ill temper. He just wanted to leap out as soon as the car halted, but Merridew abruptly took hold of his wrist and kept him there. The wild despair was in his stare again.

"This is it then?" He asked tight-lipped, his hand rigid, almost tremulous around the bones in Ralph's wrist. The unpleasant truth that had risen at Merridew's house was once again like a protuberance between them, grisly and painful. The fury faded to be replaced by nerves. The fair boy stared back in mental unrest, slightly shrinking away with a pallid face. Merridew's hand around his wrist suddenly felt too heavy.

"I don't know." He muttered quietly. And he truly didn't. He didn't know what he wanted. His instinct clearly showed him that his deepest desire was still to be with Merridew. His reasoning fought against the impulse, though.

Having a sexual affair was only something physical, that he could have easily disposed of. But the problem was, that it had not been only physical for a while now. It suddenly occurred to him that it might have never been only physical, to any of them. It was obvious in Merridew's acts; obvious in the fact that Ralph had been too shaken up by his past relations, which he'd never thought he'd be. It had been emotional in many ways. And emotionally bonding with Merridew had been proven to be more than dangerous.

"I don't know." He softly repeated, more to himself than to Merridew. His eyes fell on the street ahead of them, which hummed with the people that were heading to church. Merridew's grip swiftly tightened on him, a furious attempt to chase Ralph back into his possession. He suddenly retreated instead, which made the fair boy raise his eyes to him in slight surprise. He was staring ahead, his knuckles white as he tightly grasped onto the steering wheel.

"I'll see what I can do about Roger." His voice was ragged, oddly distant. There was a vulnerability in his movement, in the way his fingers tightly dug into the dark leather. Ralph dazedly nodded, waiting for him to continue. Merridew remained silent though, his eyes not daring to look at him. The fair boy wavered in his seat for a little longer, feeling as if he wanted to say something more, but then the rush of the morning caught up with them. When Merridew turned on the engine again, in the silent demonstration that Ralph needed to be gone already, Ralph's hurt pride simply made him swallow back any words that he might have had for Merridew.

He went out and slammed the door behind him without looking back once.

…

Some time ago, he had thought he had reached rock bottom. If it was possible, he would return in time, would slap and shake his past self to warn him that things always took a turn for the worse in his life. Always. It was like a fall down a hill, in which he rolled into vines and creepers, until they tightly entwined around his body, like snakes that sucked the last living breaths out of him.

He could not live normally anymore. All he knew was that a plague had completely taken over him, a plague in the form of Jack Merridew. If fate had given him the choice to have never met Jack Merridew, then he would have hysterically begged it to pluck him out of Ralph's existence. But he had, and now almost everything in his life was falling apart because of it.

Truthfully, Ralph was sick. He was utterly, horrifyingly sick, and whether it was madness or true evil that polluted his mind, he knew that he had hit rock bottom at that actual moment in his life. He was sick, because he kept wanting Jack Merridew, for the following minutes and hours and days, incessantly. He kept wanting not only Jack Merridew's body, but Jack Merridew himself, with everything that came along, every depraved habit and thought, every malicious fibre that made him to be Jack Merridew.

He had been thrown off by Merridew revealing his fixation on him, which had been there for longer than the duration of their affair. Ralph had known somehow that Merridew had always been drawn to him, just like Ralph had been drawn to Merridew, for all these years. He had known his fixation to be violent, one in which he needed to demonstrate that he was superior to Ralph. Even when they fucked, Merridew still needed to show that in one way or another, either by dominating him or humiliating him with words. It was a predatory instinct, something that was part of him. Still, he would have never imagined his fixation had been of a nature that was different. Not only violent or lustful, but more. It seemed that Merridew had been holding some sort of adoration for him which, for multiple reasons, made Ralph flush and shiver with ungodly delight. His body burned, every time he remembered Merridew viciously confessing to him, telling him he had been the only one to hold his affection. It was because of this intense affection, one that Ralph had barely received for the most part of his life, that he had started emotionally clinging back to Merridew. He was enthralled by the notion that someone could hold something so intense for him, as Ralph had never imagined that anyone would ever go this far; much less Jack Merridew himself.

This made him consider; he could have in time, with very much difficulty, let go of Merridew's corrupt past. He could not entirely forgive, but at least try to allow for the wounds to heal. Except the wounds would probably never completely heal. Merridew was a person with compulsions. He was not someone reliable or stable enough, that one could fall in any sort of intimate relationship with. His past affairs simply proved that. Ralph had thought he could easily listen to Merridew talk about them and not be so thoroughly struck by it. And yet he had been, because he had not only, foolishly developed his own crush on Merridew, but because it had brought him the confirmation that Merridew might be the sort of person that would be untrue to any partner he had. Still, the proof that Ralph had not been a regular partner to Merridew inspired the belief that this could be a different situation for both of them.

In spite of the uncertainty, his longing for Merridew only built up, with each day that passed. Initially, he had only craved for the physical touch, for Merridew's rough hands under which he had writhed in pleasure. Now, an emotional dependency seemed to have grown in him, a need for Merridew's harsh attention, for the dark despair in Merridew's eyes as he took Ralph in his arms and spoiled him with his mouth, as if Ralph was everything in the world to him. This only increased his arousal, only made him writhe harder under his hand, only made him come harder as he stroked his cock and pressed his fingers in between his legs, as visions of Merridew desperately fucking him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear tortured him, until he became a needy mess again. The lust entirely overwhelmed him, an incitement that was roused not only by the thought of being sexually torn apart, but also by being intensely revered, cared for in a way that he had not experienced before.

This was the point at which he realized he was gone. When he actually started contemplating Merridew's proposal to leave the town with him, he knew he had entirely lost his mind. However, it wasn't just the thought of being with Merridew that made this freshly concocted plan seem tempting, but also the promise of escaping a place that bound him to many dismal memories, a confined space that had only, perpetually contributed to his depression. It was the hope for a new beginning, and this, along with the freedom and the possibilities that would open for him in a large city like London, only motivated him more. Having someone familiar there to guide him was also reassuring in a way, as Merridew surely had more experience with the capital. Still, the desire to join someone like Merridew was something that he could not easily embrace. Which was the reason he needed some advice in this matter, some form of help. He had to speak to someone about it, even if it would ruin him.

He was aware that this was too much for his friends to take in. Sam and Eric were both still too premature to understand such matters, and Peter, despite his extraordinary intelligence, was too rooted in his grudge for Merridew to ever accept the reality of such a thing between Ralph and Merridew. The shock would have been too great for all three of them. So he figured out Simon was the only one open-minded enough to at least listen to him without being judgemental. Even so, Ralph didn't confide in him about absolutely everything. Aside from revealing that he had a relationship of sexual nature with Merridew and that he considered the madness of leaving the town with him, Ralph could not bring himself to expose Simon to more than that. Definitely not to the fact that their relationship was perverse in more than one way.

Still, not even the restricted information that he had imparted on Simon seemed to be easy to take in. To Ralph's demise, Simon actually chuckled, thinking Ralph was taking him for a fool at first. His friend lightly kidded, but when he saw the lack of any positive response in Ralph's expression, even more, the hopelessness that only soared in his gaze, he immediately faltered. Simon's amusement dwindled to be replaced by light shock, then sober empathy.

"You and Jack?" He asked in awe. His green eyes turned away to look at the vastness of the park, at the array of trees that rustled in the cool wind. The bench creaked as he shuffled, slightly uneasy, but deep in thought. "That…that doesn't surprise me that much, if I think of it." He admitted. The fair boy flinched next to him, a bit disconcerted that Simon so easily acknowledged the potential between himself and Merridew.

"This is why he went against Roger and the rest of his friends, huh," Simon asked with a hint of smile. "Because he loves you." Ralph paled at the casual air with which his friend always used such big words, holding bright optimism in regards to every person out there, even some of the worst. He flushed as he twisted away from him.

"Merridew might have some sort of infatuation with me," He uncomfortably recognized. "But I believe love, in the true sense of the word, would not be fit for this situation…" He trailed off. "Not for Merridew, in any case."

Simon mused his answer. Ralph thought for a moment he would pry into his feelings, as the dark-haired boy's hopeful nature would have prompted him to search for something inspiring about his relationship with Merridew. To Ralph's ease, he only nodded in understanding.

"Do you want to leave with him?" He inquired, not accusing or concerned, but simply curious, mindful of Ralph's feelings. The fair boy sighed.

"I'm not sure, Simon." His fingers started twiddling with the hem of his jacket in agitation, as he averted his gaze. The need to chew his nails bothered him again, a habit that absolutely frustrated him, which had been sticking to him since early childhood. "You know Merridew is no easy feat." Ralph tried to avoid bringing Merridew's promiscuity into discussion, as he felt it was not his own issue to talk about. "I think-", He paused, as he mulled over his words, because despite that he had admitted it to himself, saying it out loud to someone else turned out to be even more difficult. Something like lead suddenly felt heavy in his gut. He leaned forward and hid his face into his palms, too distressed to share his friend's gaze. "I think I am stupid enough to want that, yes." The shaky confession had been like a release, and yet too scandalous to bear. He felt shame for openly admitting his sincere want for Merridew to Simon, who had endured so much at his hands; all of them had endured so much because of him. The fact that he had fallen for someone so terrible, that he had to confess this sin now to his good friend, made him feel like he was the worst. He felt Simon's encouraging hand on his shoulder, and he could only let his tormented eyes be visible from behind his hands.

"Maybe you should then." Simon sustained with a wide smile, too quickly, too easily, which made Ralph consider whether he had been driving himself mad about things that he shouldn't have, but then again, Simon had always been even easier on people than he was. Ralph let an impatient breath out.

"He's such a rotten bastard, Simon, you have no idea. He's done so many things, so many-"

"And yet he genuinely cares for you to want to leave with you, and not by himself." Simon earnestly retorted. A light brightened his eye. "I know Jack can be self-absorbed, only acting for himself mostly." Simon conceded; the unbidden thought came forward in the fair boy's mind. That's a painful understatement.

"But he does want to leave with you, he has proposed that to you." His friend pressed on. "Even more, he has put his mates aside in such a manner, despite that he has been very invested in what his group thought of him, for all these years." He twisted toward the greenery that lay ahead of them, that reflected in his pensive gaze. "I've known him for a long time now, I've seen how he's been acting in their presence. His image in the group was one of the most important things to him." The fair boy watched him lost. "He would have never done this if it had been anyone else, Ralph."

Stillness plummeted in between them as they let the new awareness settle in, the comprehension of their once greatest enemy's deeper motives. The validation that Simon brought regarding Merridew's true intentions weakened his doubts; it guided him in holding more firmly onto his wavering decision. The nervous instinct took over him- he brought his hand to his mouth and bit into his nail like a nervous child.

"I would wait first, though," The dark-haired boy carried on. Ralph spun to him in curiosity. "Perhaps it is more sensible for you two to leave after graduation." Something shook inside the fair boy.

"But Black-"

"I know." Simon answered. "Roger can be very assertive, much like Jack." He spoke of them with deep understanding and compassion, like they were his non-blood brothers, just like Ralph, Peter, and Samneric themselves were. "But he might be just hurt that Jack has left their team. Perhaps his pain will eventually heal, and he will not act on his resentment." Ralph shook his head, watching him with uncertain, although impressed bright eyes.

"You really are hopeless, Simon. You think even the worst people have something redeemable in them." A furtive smile played on his friend's lips.

"Maybe. But at least I'm not sleeping with them." Was his witty response, which earned him a pretended gasp and playful shove from Ralph. Their sprightly laughter echoed in the silent nature around, and the fair boy's burden could only be slightly relieved by the breath of fresh air that friendship brought.

…

The week that followed was strange, to say the least. Ralph had thought that his relationship with Merridew would either resort to subtle antagonism again or to a continuous attempt at dismissal, in which they would ignore each other. He didn't think they would be so civil toward each other, to the point that they surprised not only those around, but also themselves.

The collegiality between them only steadily grew as days passed. The classes progressed unbelievably smoothly, even as Merridew took his seat next to Ralph during Maths. They worked together as they were paired up for a few tasks, even though he could not ignore the tension that occasionally laced between them, as they accidentally brushed against each other. At such occurrences, they nervously drew apart, with slight flushes on their faces, and Ralph thought it to be ridiculous how they were suddenly acting like children with crushes; or like uncomfortable exes, which was the more appropriate term for their situation. He knew Merridew believed he had completely scared Ralph off with his last confession, given the attitude that he had adopted. He was behaving as if he needed to be as formal as possible with Ralph, with the exception of a few slips, when he let his eyes linger over Ralph's form, or when he allowed his hand to touch a few seconds longer as they exchanged a pen or a notebook. This frustrated Ralph, not only because Merridew apparently put up a struggle to withdraw from Ralph, cease his mindless chasing of the fair boy, but also because Ralph could not find the strength within to try to reach him.

There was a perpetual buzz inside his head, as he worried over how he should approach Merridew regarding the idea of a continuation of their relation, without seeming mad or foolish. He had continually melted and frozen for Merridew in the past weeks, a constant back-and-forth change of disposition. He slightly feared at times Merridew would be the one who would bring him a definite rejection this time, probably tired of Ralph pushing him away. But then little signs such as Merridew's intense gaze that seemed to remain focused on him, or his fingers that flippantly smoothed against Ralph's lower back, in a pretended attempt to draw Ralph's attention to certain school issues, only brought him the confirmation, again and again, that Merridew more than desperately keened for him, in spite of his self-restraint.

The reactions of both parties – Ralph's friends and Merridew's old pack- only added fuel to the fire. The fact that Merridew's odd behaviour had become the main entertainment for his friends -especially since Merridew had officially separated himself from the group now- was making it impossible for him to avoid the subject. The never-ending debate and the suggestions that came up were absolutely preposterous, and Ralph could only conceal his torment with exasperated sighs, while Simon smiled knowingly.

Black and Talbot had entirely contrary reactions. The latter simply watched the film with mere curiosity, occasionally whispering to an impassive Wendell or an attentive Carlson; Merridew's remark about Talbot being a loudmouth flickered in Ralph's memory. Fortunately, the information didn't seem to have spread out beyond their circle, which was a momentary relief. Ralph suspected it was due to both Wendell and Carlson being quite unsociable sods that didn't particularly seek to resort to prattle. On the other side, Black's lack of reaction and his grim gaze that steadily followed the movement of both Merridew and Ralph was beyond unsettling. The fair boy only grew more anxious as days passed and no course of action had been taken by Merridew's former right-hand man. Time urged him to discuss this matter with Merridew again, as quickly as possible, but then almost a week followed, and Black did not show any sign that he would act on any sort of grudge. He started believing in Simon's words, with a naivety and carelessness that he later wanted to punish himself for.

Nonetheless, the risk was perpetual from Merridew's former mates, and Ralph could only oppose Simon's advice. He could not casually wait until graduation, until the information spread around and everyone found out. Unfortunately, until he grasped the determination to approach Merridew, Black had already started devising his own plan.

The drizzle was not difficult to bear through that day, so physical education was unfolding outside, on the field. They had been playing for forty minutes, his team going against Merridew's, which was their second match together that semester. Ralph could only wonder at how they seemed to temporarily resort to the old habits during the games, as if these events were out of the space-time continuum. Merridew was behaving like a savage again, enthusiastically teaming up with his former mates, in spite of their separation, going against Ralph's team as if he was participating in the battle of his life; yelling, pushing Ralph's teammates to the ground, receiving one yellow card after another, disregarding the warnings that the coach had thrown at him. He didn't use his force on Ralph though like he had once used to– they did bump into each other a couple of times, but they only lightly shoved around with equal grins on their faces, before they went their ways.

During minute forty-five, Ralph stumbled into the largest puddle, and the muddy water entirely soaked through his clothing. He asked for permission to return to the lockers to change, which was the incentive that had spurred Black into action. When the fair boy spun around to leave the locker room, he collided into a hard body that had lodged itself in the doorway. His breath was caught in his throat at the sight of the dark, foreboding eyes. As Black closed the door behind him, trapping him inside the space with no possible way out, Ralph could feel his panic reach substantial levels, even though he made the effort to remain poised. Showing he was afraid would only stir the devil more. He tried to hearten himself- if he put his mind to it, he could take on Black, as the other lad was slightly shorter than him, even though he knew Black's viciousness reached beyond strength. His energy sprung from his murderous temperament, a relentless force that not even the strongest people could triumph over.

The fair boy didn't try to either push Black away or step back. He only held his ground, his eyes hard but slightly conflicted, as the other boy stared him down with an unreadable, empty gaze. Black's remote expression was becoming more unsettling with each second, and Ralph could only sense his body break down with jagged anticipation.

"Yes?" Ralph asked tensely. When Black spoke, it startled him beyond reason.

"Leave Merridew alone." Was the short, cutting reply. Ralph blinked, before the words reached his comprehension. He should have agreed to it. He should have simply nodded, cleverly given in to Black's request, pretended that he listened. He was, instead, swelling with offended pride. Firstly, because Merridew was the one who had not been leaving Ralph alone, and secondly, because he could not allow himself to submit to Black, who apparently saw Ralph as a pawn that could be easily ordered around. If he gave in to Merridew, that didn't mean he was easy enough to let himself be pushed around by others, much less by his bastard mates. And then there was some sort of foolish displeasure that Black incited in him when he talked of Merridew; he swiftly remembered the bond that Merridew and Black had, the fact they might have had a similar affair at some point, which made him flush, the soreness growing in his belly again. He knew he was being ridiculous, and yet he could not stop himself. When he huffed in indignation and moved to push past Black, a hand crept in from behind and grabbed his forearm to jerk him back.

"If you know what's good for yourself, you will follow my advice." He insisted lowly. The fair boy yanked his hand out of the tight restraint. His answer was something that surprised them both.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Black froze, completely caught off guard for one brief moment. He recovered quickly though, as he leaned in with a sneer.

"Is that what you believe Merridew and I have, Foley?" The trace of a disturbing smile warped the corners of his mouth. "Care?" The fair boy flinched at the physical appropriation between them, at the way Black's thin mouth curved with malevolent intent. He knitted his pale brows, as he could not find any answer to that. Black advanced on him, obviously pleased with Ralph's visible restlessness. "If you believe either Merridew or I hold any sort of empathy in this play, then you're more naïve than I've thought." The fair boy held his chilling gaze with uncertainty.

"What's the reason you are pestering me then?" He struck back. Black's eyes glinted with something treacherous, although Ralph did not recoil, too numb at the growing understanding of Black's words.

"It's only business." Black simply elucidated, before his glare darkened. "Do you think I would have let his grubby hands ever touch me, if he didn't have so much authority?" Ralph widened his eyes in shock at the ease with which Black had admitted the immorality. "Merridew is the only one who possesses enough wealth and power to support me in certain…" He paused, as he carefully thought over his words. "…goals that I have settled for myself. " His lips turned downward with evident contempt, and Ralph's stomach coiled wretchedly. "Luckily for me, the bastard doesn't ask much in return. If he gets his hands on some flesh, he'll be satisfied."

The fair boy remained dumbstruck by the information. His usually bright eyes could only blankly stare at Black's features, at his ashen skin that seemed to glow in the white neon lights of the room; the contrast with his pitch black hair made him appear thoroughly intimidating, deathly even. The news that Merridew and Black had been partnering in different crimes did not surprise him. The fact that they had been using each other for different purposes, that Black had been giving himself to Merridew in order to make use of Merridew's power in certain felonies, was something that was beyond his reasoning. It was something he would have never imagined someone like Black to do. But then again, they were both made of the same material, both manipulative snakes who breached morals at the smallest opportunities. He jolted and winced when Black's hand sneaked in again and tightly grabbed his forearm, his nails puncturing into his skin.

"Ever since you interfered, this business has been ruined, Foley." Black's breath into his face was alarming. "Merridew does not help with anything anymore. He's become useless, dull. Because of you." It came viciously out of his mouth, a venomous accusation. Anger flitted in Ralph; he forcefully stepped back, attempting to wrench himself out of the ferocious grip.

"It's Jack's choice only." He heatedly retaliated. "It's his will, and you cannot make him act on something he doesn't want." The sneer played on Black's lips again, as soon as his reply left his mouth.

"He told you you're the only one to him, didn't he?" He smiled unpleasantly; the fair boy answered with a tense frown. "Ol' chief always knows how to lure his prey in." Ralph tried not to let himself be moved by this petty attack, but it proved to be futile; the ache slashed through his insides. Black's hand slid then, from his arm to his inner thigh, cunning fingers that invaded flesh, pulled and twisted, and Ralph broke off in a startled cry of protestation.

"Merridew is only an animal. It's only one thing he's always after though, especially when it comes to pretty lads like you." Revulsion and sharp fury rippled through him. His instinct to defend his decency instantly moved him to bring his hands forward and aggressively shove into Black's chest, and Black immediately backed away in the shock of the collision. He thought for a moment that this reckless gesture would trigger an unbalanced fight, in which he would end up a crumpling mess under Black's fists. Black's features were twisted in a mask of wrath, his cheeks flushed in the intensity of the emotion. Instead of reacting back with violence though, his eyes only flashed threateningly, giving away the one purpose that he held onto at that very moment.

"This warning should be enough." He growled, his limbs overtaken by slight tremors, his eyes by a madness that clearly revealed he barely held back from lashing. "Think carefully over it."

When he moved to pass Ralph and disappear into the hall like a shadow, the fair boy could only suppress a violent shudder as the reality of what had happened struck through the fading state of alertness. He realized the violated flesh in his arm and thigh throbbed painfully as he let himself lean against the wall to catch his breath, his thoughts clamoring inside his mind. The shouting that came from outside, from his colleagues that still participated in the game, from an unaware Merridew, vaguely broke through him, and he decided he didn't want to return to the field anymore.

…

Ralph was known to be quite perseverent, even obstinate in certain purposes, characteristic which had got both himself and his friends in trouble multiple times in the past, especially with Merridew and his group. Quite often in his childhood and early adolescence, he could not back away from the confrontations that Merridew initiated, could not brush aside the snide comments and the mockeries that the Merridew group teased them with, which is why they regularly ended up in squabbles with the pack of devils. This trait had more than once been criticized by Peter who, despite also being quite stubborn, was more perceptive than Ralph, could read cues better, and would realize when the proper time to back away from such confrontations came forth. It was an instinct of self-preservation that was apparently more powerful in Peter than in Ralph, which was why his best friend had not once directly called him out on it, by insinuating he could actually become a complete idiot when it came to Jack Merridew. At such instances, Ralph would only end up sulking and trying to offend back, even though Peter had mostly got used to his immature responses in time. His best friend was able to make him feel foolish and question his own behavior and morals with just a simple allusion. Which is why, as an older adolescent, Ralph eventually tried to learn to find more composure in his thoughts and actions, follow the subtle teachings that Peter offered him.

Nonetheless, his stubbornness was a trait that he could not easily shed. Even more when someone such as unscrupulous as Black attempted to find his control over him. The only time he would ever allow an evil bastard of the category to have any control over him was when Merridew was about to fuck him senseless, which was, for Ralph, a form of enjoyment. The mind-numbing pleasure that he got from such an activity was one of the two reasons he would let himself be handled by a brute, whether it would be Merridew or Black. The other reason was that Merridew, as a person, had always held meaning for Ralph, in spite of his wickedness; because Merridew had once been his closest mate.

His obstinacy and principles were not the singular incentives that made him revolt against Black's threat. It was also the fact that Black would get to have Merridew again, which Ralph knew was a desperate and possessive thought that he would have never believed himself capable to nurse. He could not uphold the idea that history would repeat once again, that Merridew would once again distance himself from him to partner up with Roger Black, in an echo of their childhood. Peter's voice scolded him in his head – don't be an idiot, Ralph. None of them is worth it. He was aware of the consequences he would have to face, if he approached Merridew again. And yet, he could not refrain himself. It was not only the longing for Merridew's touch that stirred him, but also his sentiments for the git, which were heightening as days passed.

He knew Merridew would instantly give in to him once he would propose an encounter, which was exactly what happened. He had to be subtle, much more than before, especially under Black's constantly sinister surveillance, so the only time he could bring up anything further than school work to Merridew was when they worked together during Maths again. It was just a scribble in the corner of the notebook, pick me up Friday after school. Surprise and excitement flitted in Merridew's face, and it took only four seconds for him to write back, will do.

His caretaker glowered at the sight of Merridew in their home again. Ralph had to take some time to convince her not to bring this up to his father, but his desperate efforts proved to be counterproductive. That was, until Merridew's talent for manipulation sneaked in again, and brought up the excuse that their meeting was for school purposes only, as he was an excellent student and could help Ralph with his studying for the final exams – which was the truth, even though that was the farthest from what they would do together-, and not for 'drinking like two slobs', as his caretaker had so adamantly formulated.

The car was slightly different this time – another Cadillac, but bigger and dark-blue, and Ralph strangely felt more comfortable in it. The dark blue colour that also furbished the inside of the car was more relaxing to the eye, and the expensive perfume seemed not to idle on the leather. Merridew and he were quite awkward and formal with each other, only discussing general matters like school or news; that was until he realized they would not go to Merridew's house, but to a more secluded area near the outskirts, by the lake that the small river from underneath the bridge flooded into. The place was peaceful, even though it had been taken over by wilderness, with thickets and brambles infesting its shores. He had been there only a couple of times in his life, as his friends did not desire to frequent the area, with the exception of Simon, who would be the only one willing to roam such remote places. Merridew also seemed to be familiar with the place, as he securely drove the car into a closed path, right by the shore that was framed by thick scrubs.

He suddenly felt too nervous again, the impulse to retreat from Merridew poking at him. Merridew didn't face him, only mildly stared ahead at the green forest that surrounded them.

"I believe it's not prudent for us to meet in the near future." He brought up the anticipated subject, which startled Ralph, turning his pulse wild with the fear of the definitive rejection that he had previously suspected. Merridew's eyes suddenly fell on him, not hard and distant, as Ralph had expected them to be, but temperate, apparently trying to make Ralph understand his suggestion. The fair boy could only stare back in silent hurt and humiliation, cheeks slightly coloring at the bold verdict that Merridew had so maturely offered.

"So after all, I'll end up just like the rest of your playthings; used and tossed aside." He sourly concluded. The provocation immediately stirred Merridew, who tightened his jaw under a touched nerve. His gaze hardened as his fingers dredged into the steering wheel.

"I said in the near future, Ralph." He sternly repeated. "I have no intention in letting you escape me, not by far." His heart elevated when Merridew's hand moved to reach out to him, but then dropped when he retreated even farther. Merridew's cool gaze moved away to rest on the undulations of the lake that formed a pattern, the fading gold of the late sunset reflecting into its viridian surface. "I will keep myself away from you, until I resolve some issues with Roger." His fingers dabbed at the leather, his thoughts appearing to consume him for one moment. Realization emerged in Ralph's thoughts: what Simon had suggested proved to be true. Merridew would not apparently leave without him.

The compromise seemed logical, at least from Merridew's point of view. Merridew and Black would resolve whatever problems they had with each other, before Merridew would eventually return to Ralph, without the threat of being given away looming over them. Merridew was apparently oblivious to the fact that Black would not allow for their relationship to continue; it was a manipulation strategy, a trap that Merridew would fall into. Ralph suddenly wanted to be petty, to slap and scorn him, not only for being a daft twit, but also for proving to be a coward and a hypocrite in the face of the menace that they both faced now.

"Just tell me, Jack, will you require Roger Black to sleep with you, so you could solve the issues that you have with each other? Or is the fact that he threatens you enough for you to give him what he wants?" He acidly spewed, his gaze turning turbulent. Shock tinged the blue in Merridew's eyes, his bewilderment painfully soaring in the silence that fell heavy between them. He had clammed up, which only heated Ralph more; something smoldered behind the fair boy's eyes. "I believe it's ironical, the fact that Black now manipulates you, threatening to expose you and your depravations, and you're so scared of it." The blaze behind his eyes sought to find an escape, to spread, like an inferno in a forest. "And yet you have done that to me before as well." Merridew's face was livid. The strained mood became suffocating, as if fumes were rising in between them. He needed to make Merridew react, needed to make him touch Ralph again, regardless of whether the touch would be violent or not. "You have threatened me before as well, remember?" He shifted near, daring him to strike back. "When you told me you would let everyone know I was a poofter, if I didn't sleep with you?" Merridew continued watching him petrified, his features taut in his restraint to retort to the incrimination. Ralph squirmed with impatience, too embittered by his aloofness. He knew Merridew's fiery temper had somewhat subsided lately, and yet he could not believe his avoidance then.

"That was a lie, Ralph, and you know it." He suddenly spoke, and the fair boy stopped in his advance; the fire in his eyes paled. He was taken aback by Merridew's voice, which was grating, as if he had not spoken in a long time. „I had made my mind up even before I came onto you in the park then, ever since I realized you were into blokes that day we fought," He tightly professed. "I wouldn't have done that to you, even if you had not submitted to me, it had all been just a ploy to get you. Because I had to get you." His rigid, tortured expression suddenly turned fervid with the old despair. "And you know that. You know why." The fair boy's breathing turned shallow, desire growing and pulsing in his flesh, slowly, easily supplanting the ill feeling that had kindled him until then. He drew closer to Merridew, wanting to hear more of it; needing to hear more. Merridew's breath shortened to match his when Ralph reached out for his arm.

"For how long?" He asked, almost a whisper, eyes wide with curiosity. His fingers traced along the bicep in Merridew's arm through his shirt, drifted down his stomach and lower. Merridew followed the progress of his hand distractedly.

"Years." He looked and sounded foggy. "I don't know when it exactly began, I just know I'd been mad and frustrated for too long about not being able to get you back after our first fight," He breathed out wearily. "I was thinking too often about you, and then you were there again in my mind when I first tossed myself off. Must have been twelve or so." He mumbled hoarsely. Ralph's hand stopped in its trace, abashed by this discovery. Merridew tore his gaze away from his hand to probe into the depths of Ralph's stunned eyes. The air became thick with the sweltering arousal.

Ralph made a move to withdraw his hand in disorientation, but Merridew's own hand was there in an instant, gently but firmly gripping his wrist, pulling him closer with a pressing gaze. Blood flooded into his face and cock, the pumping of his heart thudding in his hears, as Merridew opened the clasp of his belt and trousers, and guided Ralph's fingers around his growing erection, encouraging. The shock of this coarse gesture did not stun Ralph like it would have once done; in fact, it moved him, it made him slowly bring his hand into Merridew's shorts, before he started twisting his hand up and down his half-hardened cock; Merridew's breath turned ragged, glacial gaze staring at Ralph, staring for an eternity, before dropping to Ralph's mouth like flies to honey, and the air in Ralph's lungs entirely evaporated, burned up by the fire in his belly. He leaned forward, placed his lips over Merridew's, initiating a kiss for the second time ever since they'd been together, eager for the attention Merridew had shown him before. A groan was lost in between their mouths as Merridew deepened it, instantly slung his tongue into Ralph's mouth with hungry claim, and his palm was at the back of Ralph's neck and the other on his waist, steadily tugging Ralph into his lap. The space was small and it was difficult to move freely, but he managed to swing one leg over Merridew's body, straddling him. Merridew's hands instinctively raised themselves to stroke Ralph's thighs and arse, and a quiver broke through Ralph's body. He unzipped his jeans with clumsy hands, freeing his painful erection, and then they were going at each other again in a staggered rhythm, cocks creating delicious friction, and he was arching his body into the heat that permeated him as their groins collided with each other. The press of their mouths turned hectic, with grunts and swears fading into breathless gasps, and yet it was still too soft. The reticence that had taken over Merridew lately was powerful again his gestures, in his hands that caressed rather than fiercely grabbed, as he had once done. An impatient sound escaped Ralph's lips; he would not have the softness again.

His previous determination to anger Merridew charged through him, and the movement of his mouth became rough, uncoordinated; his teeth and tongue violently clashed into Merridew's, and he could feel the lapse of power in Merridew as he retaliated, but less firmly, his usually solid stance weakening. A growl of protest was released in between their breaths when Ralph's teeth prodded at Merridew's lower lip, tearing through the flesh. The motion stopped and they both froze as they broke apart, chests heavily heaving as pale blue eyes met bright turquoise ones. The shock and rage that crossed Merridew's features as he palpated the blood that trickled from his mouth down his chin were alarming. The thought that he had crossed a line passed through Ralph's mind, but then it was too late; the small aggression that he had inflicted on Merridew had sealed its deal.

"You little-", Merridew's face turned crimson with anger as his murderous stare stabbed at Ralph. The fair boy thought for a moment his survival instinct would make him pull back, return into his seat, away from Merridew. There was satisfaction that rippled through him instead, at seeing Merridew finally reaching his discomposure, descending into his old self. A small, broken chuckle was ripped out of his throat when Merridew grabbed at the bundle of pale blonde hair and pulled his head back, fuming as he barely abstained from beating the wits out of him.

"Not so careful with me anymore, eh, Jack?" He challenged with bitter humour. Merridew's eyes widened for one moment in comprehension, before violence darkened his expression. The burning anger sizzled between them, and he released a pained gasp when Merridew plunged his teeth into his neck, cut into the flesh there. The arousal blazed and mixed with fear and hurt at the revelation he had enraged the animal beyond control. He struggled and pushed into Merridew's chest, before Merridew's teeth would reach a fatal point in Ralph's throat, and then a small wrestle ensued. They were tearing at each other; his knee found its way into Merridew's stomach, before Merridew's fist struck his ear, and the horn was accidentally hit multiple times as they thrashed and scuffled. Laughter split the convulsed grunting and gasping, and they writhed and crawled until they ended up on the back seat. The punching and kicking turned to grabbing and biting and licking, and he found himself on his back, his jeans having been released at some point in the struggle to reveal his vulnerable skin to Merridew, who proceeded to attack the sensitive areas of his legs. His teeth sliced into Ralph's inner thighs, and he cried out as he felt his skin break out under Merridew's incisors that created a pattern of bloodied bruises in their trail, before his tongue mapped at them, sucked into the throbbing spots, setting tremors in Ralph's flesh and cock. His entire body flared and sweated and shivered under the assault, and he squirmed as Merridew dragged his shorts down his thighs in one quick move, his ravenous gaze relentlessly taking in the view.

"Disobeying me-", Merridew breathlessly growled, as he fervently clambered on top of him and grabbed at Ralph's hips with rugged fingers "-delivers punishment." His hands slid to hook under Ralph's knees, pushing them higher toward Ralph's chest along Merridew's sides. Ralph's moan broke in the air around them as the muscles in his thighs stretched and fluttered, as Merridew brushed his aching cock against his entrance, but didn't press into him.

"Yes," He wetted his lips, his eyes dark and glazed with lust, his pulse a hammer in his neck, in the crooks of his elbows, in his cock. "Punish me, yes." He felt Merridew's left hand tracing the curve of his tight arse, going up his milky thigh, before he obscenely grabbed at the flesh, fingers squeezing into the pulsing wounds that he had marked earlier; a shattered sound broke through Ralph's lips.

"I will fuck you right here with no lube, and you'll be screaming in agony," Merridew rasped, his fingers tightening, his cock teasing at the tight, puckered hole, and the fair boy hollered, helpless. He wriggled lower, desperate for the fullness, but the cock was only a touch there, barely stroking in between his legs, torturing him. His hand roughly slid up to the back of Merridew's neck and brought him closer with an aggressive tug.

"Don't make me wait again, you bastard-", He gritted out, short of breath, but Merridew quickly chuckled, before his amusement relapsed into spite. The grip on Ralph's thigh became unbearable; he gave an excruciating sob.

"I don't remember ever having mentioned that my name is 'bastard'," Merridew seethed, his hand reaching lower again, nails penetrating into Ralph's arse cheek. The hold was brief, as it was replaced by a sudden slap against his backside, and Ralph's body curved under the splitting ache. He trembled, his breath evening and smoothing, his cock throbbing for release in between their stomachs. He knew the ploy this time, knew what Merridew wanted, what would get him going, and he would not hesitate in offering it to him in order to release himself from the torment. He was panting as his tongue darted out in between his pink lips, and his glazed up eyes peeked up from beneath pale eyelashes, the very picture of lost innocence.

"Master," It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make Merridew groan, his eyes gone, black and wild, like the feeling in Ralph's chest, beating against his ribs like a bird in a cage. Another slap came, just as hard, just as ruthless, and Ralph shuddered and curbed tightly like a bow. Merridew leaned forward to bite into his throat, very near the jugular, and he cried out in shock and elation, at the beads that burst out underneath Merridew's pointed teeth, sweat and blood marring his smooth skin.

"Say it again." Merridew growled into his neck, the vibration of his voice striking into Ralph like a hammer to a bell, ringing through him, and Ralph tugged at the rusty curls of his hair, pressing tightly into him.

"Master." He moaned again, more clearly, a chant that radiated through them, and his arse shook as Merridew's hand fell harshly against it, the prick of the resounding smacks travelling through the muscles of his legs, through his cock, into his toes. The pulsing soreness turned into an interminable ripple of straining, agonizing bliss that could not find its deliverance.

When the slapping and biting dulled, Merridew leaned back and studied his doing, his blue, fixed stare admiring Ralph's disheveled, bruised form, the wounds that brightened his skin, the rosy colour that vibrated in his cheeks, the pale hair that fell in a halo around his head. The softness breached the tense air around them again like an intruder, but Ralph didn't protest to it this time, his body drained, his cock worn and slick with the precome that had leaked in the foreplay.

"You've always been so beautiful." Merridew croaked with some sort of reverence, brushing his thumb across Ralph's jaw and cheek. "I'd never believed I would ever get to have you, I'd actually resigned myself with the thought." He mused, his pupils wide, his thumb tracing the blooming bruises on Ralph's cheekbone. Heat spread under Ralph's skin at the intimacy, at the slight tenderness that marked Merridew's gestures again, and his limbs turned slack with emotion. He swallowed, his lips and eyes glimmering in the fading light.

The softness stayed, as Merridew dragged his pointer and middle finger across Ralph's puffy lower lip, pushed them inside his mouth, as Ralph sucked at them in hot, wet pulls. It stayed as Merridew brought his wet fingers to stretch him out, as Ralph choked needy, the fingers that thrust back and forth into his flesh igniting red flames that dispersed through his body. It stayed as Ralph angled his head back into the seat, arched his spine, twined his fingers in Merridew's tousled hair. He was entirely spread out, and a strong feeling dropped heavy into his stomach, as he realized this would be the first time they would fuck facing each other.

They both groaned as the press of Merridew's cock was too blunt, too rough, much rougher than what they had experienced before, a burning stretch. Ralph's limbs stiffened at the sensation of a mostly dry cock, barely slicked with saliva, inside of him, and he pulled and pushed against Merridew's thrusts, shivering and cursing loudly. His nails cut dull crescents into Merridew's forearms, and none of them realized the wounds were bleeding, until Merridew hissed and swore at the sting, and he took Ralph's hand from his arm, licked the blood off his fingers, and Ralph spilled whimpers and moans in the dull silence that surrounded them. Merridew's large hand curled around Ralph's throbbing cock, callously getting him off, and Ralph looped an arm around Merridew's neck, urged him to whisper to him like in his dreams, and Merridew did, spoiled him with broken words, told him how much he had wanted Ralph and needed him for so long; that Ralph was the most precious thing to him, and that he would never let him go. Ralph spent first with an inarticulate cry like always, hot and wet in between their bellies, and the slick slide of their stomachs wrung out Merridew, who vigorously rutted into him, grunting and panting and bloody mindless. When Merridew spilled, their clouded eyes briefly met, and it was as if lightning struck them at the same time.

The suspension lasted for minutes, hours, days. By the time it was over, darkness had almost entirely taken over the sky. A strip of pallid orange was fading into the horizon. As soon as Merridew removed himself from him, Ralph's body was overtaken by spasms, the throe in his neck, thighs, and arse spiking through his sinews. He shivered; Merridew instantly brought a hand up his leg, caressed his thigh, his rear.

"Are you alright?" He inquired softly, too softly, a reiteration of another time he had posed the question. Ralph silently nodded, determined in gaining his previous self-control. Merridew reached for him and cleaned him up, and Ralph allowed him again, the gesture already having become a custom in their rituals. Merridew suddenly paused in his fondling and traced a long finger across the marks on Ralph's inner thigh. A frown twisted his features.

"This is not from me." He remarked unexpectedly, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing up and down a bruise of a violet colour, larger and older than the red biting marks that had been just embedded into his skin. Ralph paused, uncertain. He did not want to bring up the encounter between himself and Black to Merridew, as his gut told him it would have escalated into something unpredictable and dangerous. Merridew insisted, his cold eyes narrowing.

"Who did this?" He inquired again, severe. Ralph pressed his lips together, trying to put a mental barrier between himself and Merridew's prying eyes. His gaze was too open, too revealing though. What he had mentioned earlier in their discussion regarding Black would probably soon give him away. The euphoria diffused, leaving emotional storm to broil in the atmosphere between them. The fierce inquiry in Merridew's eagle eyes sharpened until it delved into rage at the click of a recognition. Ralph cringed as Merridew drew back with a suddenly manic look.

"Look, Jack, it doesn't matter-"

"That bloody tosser." Merridew hissed, face and neck and ears flushing in rage. He attempted to slip in between the seats, reach the front of the car, in a frantic, impulsive reaction to instantly drive them away to a brutal and hysterical strife, but Ralph immediately grabbed at his arm in panic.

"Jack!" The sharp reprehension in his voice instantly drilled trough Merridew's senses. He froze, his muscles working jerkily as he fought to get his ire under control, a response that was unusually compliant for Merridew. His wild breathing moved Ralph's arm, up and down in sync with the rising and falling of Merridew's chest. Merridew turned his head then, stiff with the fading rage.

"He touched you." He bristled. Ralph pleadingly looked at him, his fingers slowly trying to unclasp Merridew's tight fist. Merridew resisted for one longer moment, before he caved in.

"Don't be stupid, please." The fair boy admonished with a stern gaze. "You'll get us in even more trouble, if you'll seek another fight with Black." Merridew tensed, his spirit briefly soaring again.

"I'm not stupid. And no one touches what's mine." He vehemently intoned. Ralph felt himself shudder at the familiar words, so much reminiscent of the possessiveness that Merridew had once shown as a child, with regard to him. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized he might have caused more harm by lightning up Merridew's temper earlier for the benefit of a rough fuck. He removed his hand from Merridew's.

"First of all, I'm not yours." He answered peeved, crossing his arms in a gesture at defending himself from Merridew's iron obstinacy. "Secondly, you have to learn to control your bouts of anger better, if you want me to leave with you." The impact of the admission had been like an earthquake, its power impairing every other emotion or thought that had singed in the air between them. Merridew's intense glare changed from furious to indistinct.

"Did you just say that you want to leave with me?" Merridew questioned, with something like caution and wonder, and Ralph inwardly marvelled at how quickly the smallest distractions could entirely alter Merridew's mood. He shuffled unnerved in his seat.

"Well, it was not easy for me to take such a decision. Especially after I've found out you're a chaser." He cuttingly enunciated. It should have been a clear reproach that incriminated Merridew, except it was interlaced with strong chagrin. Merridew's eyes glinted with something that resembled grief, even though the fair boy knew it was only wishful thinking. Merridew had clearly declared he would not regret his actions, and even though he would have such inclinations, he would surely repress them out of pride. Ralph flushed as he avoided eye contact, the pounding in his chest intensifying as he carried on in a more hesitant voice this time. "I've thought of it though." He admitted. "And I believe I do want to come to London...with you."

The terrifying, but absurd thought of Merridew refusing him crossed his mind in a flash.Perhaps the original invitation did not even stand anymore, and Ralph was simply being a nitwit for bringing it up. "That is, if your proposal is still valid." He added timorously after a pause. He felt Merridew's astonishment dissolving to be replaced by disciplined stoicism.

"Are you certain of it? After all, you said yourself I'm a tyrant and a beast." Merridew lightly teased. Ralph raised narrow eyes to him.

"And I won't back down on what I said," He retorted bitingly. "Still, I am foolish enough to probably let myself be tricked by you into something like this." He huffed. His cheeks warmed up when Merridew leaned forward and brought his hand down the side of his cheek, before his fingers threaded through the soft pale strands; his smirk widened as he admired Ralph's disarrayed form. Ralph inhaled as he took his hand into his own once again in order to draw his attention back to the subject.

"Though I will not leave without talking to my dad and my friends first," He continued, firmness shaping his voice. He tenaciously set his jaw in pique, as the cause of their last separation still bothered him to great measure. "And on another condition." He paused, cautiously eyeing Merridew. "You'll not sleep with anyone else but me, or the deal is off." He held his breath in, as Merridew blankly looked at him for a split moment, thinking Merridew would start jeering, protesting, anything but the strangely satisfied smile that crept back on his lips. His fingers curled around Ralph's smaller ones.

"I wouldn't have dreamt otherwise, sunshine." He retorted decisively. Ralph tentatively nodded, staring back in slight disbelief, before his shoulders slumped. He leaned into Merridew's lean chest with a tired sigh, and Merridew placed a hand on the small of his back.

He did not take notice, in the crepuscule that had fallen over them, of the piercing blue gaze that grimly lingered on the mauve print on his thigh.