"Rick," Vyvyan replied, fighting to keep the smile from being heard in his voice. He licked his lips as his heart palpitated painfully, chest thudding. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow, calming exhale; he would have found his own nervous excitement amusing if it wasn't such an admission of being a sissy girly.
The anarchist glanced around him, at the buzzing late-night darkness of the hallway, making sure he was alone. He lowered his voice slightly anyway.
"Um…thankyou for the…present, Vyvyan," he murmured.
He heard a faint sigh of embarrassment, made crackly by the phone line.
"You woke me up you know Vyvyan," he added softly.
"Don't worry Rick, beauty sleep can't help you now," the punk retorted quietly, grinning to himself. "…I'm…gonna come home tonight."
Rick heard a faint bang on the phone and waited, listening to someone talking loudly and somewhat drunkenly in the room Vyvyan was in, but unable to make out the words.
Bloodbath had pushed his way into the room, holding a can of lager and looking pissed off.
"What're you hiding in here for, it's only midnight!" He grabbed the phone off of the flame-haired punk and put it to his ear.
"Vyvyan?" Rick asked tentatively.
"I knew it! You're a fucking nancy! Chatting to your fucking boyfriend!" Bloodbath screeched, cackling as he chucked the phone receiver down. Tears of merriment streamed down his face as he prepared to open the door and announce the fact.
In one smooth, expressionless movement, Vyvyan seized him by the collar of his leather waistcoat and twisted him round, slamming his right fist into the other punk's nose with a deafening, wet crunch, blood gushing instantly over Bloodbath's lips, chin and T-shirt.
Gurgling sounds of agony bubbled from the heavy-set punk, as Vyvyan snatched a pair of scissors from a desk, and promptly stabbed them into the hand that Bloodbath had planted on the wooden surface, pinning him there.
Strangled screams of pain followed him out as he hastily grabbed his black bag of clothes and stomped downstairs, slipping out of the front door and into the night, starting his twenty-minute walk home.
By the time he reached the front door of the flat and fumbled for his key, he was shivering uncontrollably. His hand trembled with the cold as he managed to unlock the door and stumble inside.
He vaguely heard the television playing in the drawing room as he dumped his bag on the floor, before noticing that the air in the house was just as cold as outside.
"The heating's packed up," came Rick's voice to his right, and he grinned as he saw the anarchist get off of the sofa and approach him.
Rick was in his pyjamas, dressing gown, slippers, and he had wrapped what appeared to be a red tartan picnic blanket around his shoulders and over his head like a cowl. The tassels hung down into his pale blue eyes, which were shining despite his attempts at an indifferent expression, and he was hugging a pink hot water bottle to himself.
Getting close to the shivering punk, he paused a few inches away, swallowing. Both of them breathing hard, they coyly glanced at each other's lips, hesitating, before Rick lightly pecked him. Pulling back for only a split second, he kissed him again, and Vyvyan responded gratefully, sighing.
Rick grinned and pulled him to the sofa, where they both slumped down.
"I'm just watching the end of this. I'm going to bed afterwards, I'm exhausted," Rick told him.
Vyvyan wondered why the anarchist had bothered to stay up at all, but didn't ask. The television was airing some sort of documentary on 70's music. His fingers numb with cold, his breath steaming slightly in front of him, he folded his arms tight across his chest.
Rick glanced sideways at him and opened his blanket, encouraging the punk to shift closer. Vyvyan blushed a little, body bumping into Rick's snugly as the anarchist wrapped the blanket around both of them.
Vyvyan snaked his arm behind Rick's back and snuggled a little closer, comforted by the warmth of Rick's body and feeling sleepy. He rubbed Rick's waist slowly and closed his eyes, dozing, half-listening to the narrator on the television.
He must have slept lightly for ten minutes or so, his arm numb behind Rick's back, when he felt the anarchist shift and stand up. Stifling a yawn, he followed suit, rubbing his bright blue eyes.
"Vyvyan – I thought…since it's so bloody cold…" Rick started, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
The punk looked back at him sleepily. "What?"
"Well…did you want to…well...come with me?"
The punk looked confused, so Rick unceremoniously grabbed his chilled arm and pulled him upstairs to his room, closing the door behind them. Flinging the dark curtains wide, he flicked off the light switch, leaving the room illuminated by the halogen-yellow glow from the streetlamp outside. Pulling back the covers and tossing out his teddy bear, he shrugged off his blanket and dressing gown, kicked off his slippers, and got into the bed.
He slid the hot water bottle down into the end of the bed and looked expectantly at the flame-haired punk.
After a second, Vyvyan pulled off his jacket, T-shirt and jeans, kicking off his boots and trying not to look too eager. Getting in beside Rick, he breathlessly crawled over the anarchist, whose hands went to Vyvyan's pale neck and undid the heavy bike chain, the padlock icy cold.
Vyvyan leant down and kissed him hard, but the anarchist gently pushed him off. "Wait a bit," he murmured, and the punk grudgingly lay down beside him, facing him in the amber gloom.
"Vyvyan…can I ask you some questions?"
The punk sighed tiredly and nodded, shifting a little closer to Rick. Their hands and fingers bumped and both flinched away in modest embarrassment.
The anarchist slid one cool hand to Vyvyan's bare hip, and pushed slowly under the waistband of his underwear, taking hold of him and stroking gently. The punk sighed in pleasure, pale eyelids lowered as he tried to focus on Rick's low voice.
"Do you fancy boys, Vyvyan?" The punk groaned silently, not answering, and Rick proceeded to stop rubbing him.
"…Yes," the punk mumbled, and the anarchist rewarded him with renewed stroking, slow and firm.
"…Do you fancy girls?" He ceased his movements once more, awaiting an answer.
"Sometimes," Vyvyan replied, gasping as Rick continued, smoothing his thumb over his tip roughly. He was already close, and he groaned into the pillow, his stiff gelled spikes flattening and his fingers grasping at the mattress.
"Do you want to sleep with me?" Rick asked huskily, watching Vyvyan writhe and make a strangled noise of frustration as he slowed the attention to his warm, rock-hard shaft.
"Yes," Vyvyan spat impatiently, panting.
"…Are you in love with me?"
Vyvyan made no answer, and Rick slowed right down, teasing his shaft only slightly, pinching the base.
"Come on Vyvyan," the anarchist insisted, wanting an answer.
However though, his words seemed to act as a trigger, and Vyvyan orgasmed as if on Rick's command. He groaned in delightful agony, limbs flexing hard, and thrusting into Rick's loose fist. He sobbed out the aftershocks with his face buried in the pillow, his trihawk messed up beyond recognition.
Rick grinned, watching with fascination, and decided not to push the subject.
Sweating, the punk rolled drunkenly against the anarchist, panting into the pillow.
"Do it to me now," Rick said eagerly, grinning, his square white teeth almost glowing in the dark.
Exhausted, Vyvyan shifted and in the close confines of the single bed, he snaked a damp hand under the heavy covers and pulled down Rick's pyjama bottoms roughly. Taking him in hand, he pumped a few times, then conceded to Rick's 'game.'
"Are you a virgin?"
Rick paused, and so did Vyvyan. Giving in, he nodded. "Yes," he murmured, grinning in pleasure as the punk worked at him skilfully.
"Do you like girls," Vyvyan continued quietly, impulsively kissing the corner of Rick's mouth.
"Yes," came the choked answer, before a sharp groan of pleasure.
"Do you like boys?"
Rick grinned, eyes lowered as he gripped Vyvyan's shoulders with both hands for an anchor.
"Sometimes."
"Do you want to sleep with me?"
Rick opened his mouth but hesitated, and Vyvyan let go of him immediately. It was several seconds before the anarchist answered, hips bucking very slightly, looking for contact.
"..Yes," he replied, and Vyvyan felt a jolt of arousal and excitement. He decided to do away with Rick's ridiculous game, and he pumped the anarchist's shaft hard and fast, the brunette whining and struggling against the flame-haired punk, whose heavy body forced him against the wall and prevented him writhing out his ecstasy.
"Oh…Vyvyan," the anarchist seethed desperately, climaxing powerfully. The punk panicked as Rick yelled out deafeningly, fighting against him to thrash out the aftershocks. He held him down as he shuddered and groaned, finally stilling and calming, his messy hair and pigtails dark with perspiration and his skin slick. Rick let out a breathless, blissful laugh, grinning clownishly.
"Can we sleep now?" Vyvyan asked him with a small smile, pulling the covers over them both.
Rick nodded, still grinning madly.
"Turn over," the punk instructed gently, and when Rick was facing away from him, he hooked an arm over his waist and squeezed slightly, before closing his eyes.
They were both asleep in minutes, shallow breathing quiet in the chilled, dark air of the bedroom.
* ~ Thumbs up for hand-job games XD
I'll probably finish this fic soon so it doesn't drag on :P Might be a cliffhanger though ;)
Em ~ *