Bags not... Rick!

Lately, Rick has had these funny dreams in which he bends an unresisting Vyvyan over his bed and pulls down his pants. Gets a look on his firm, pale arse, and then watches Vyvyan shudder as Rick puts his cold hands on him. Ah, he has no idea what he’s in for…

In these dreams, Vyvyan is at first brave, but then always gets broken. Reduced to a shivering, whimpering, begging puddle. Putty on Rick’s cock. Rick gets into him, not just his body but also his soul, and the most vulnerable parts of his being. The parts that can’t hit Rick, but admire him and yearn for his attention.

And it’s all released through the breaking point, through sexual lust, through admitting that Vyvyan wants this more than anything. The mere knowledge… Rick shivers with pleasure.

But something is wrong here. Why is his ear cold? And what is running down his neck?

Ah yes. Of course. He’s asleep.

Waking up here isn’t pleasant. It’s cold, and Rick’s head is wet. He sneezes, and tries to remember where or who he is.

Oh yeah. He’s orphaned, homeless and filthy rich; he’s sleeping in mud in a blanket; rain is dripping on his head, and there’s a wet spot in his pants now.

Vyvyan and the others, of course, are lying under the makeshift tarpaulin roof. Only Rick got a place too close by the rim of the tarpaulin. This is their new home for the moment, since yesterday their newly-stolen bus went up in flames. They have no mirror here, of course, but Rick is sure that half his hair must have burnt off. He’s scratched and bruised all over.

Vyv beside him is snoring. The fire, about three feet away from Rick’s feet, is only a glow now. Rick sits up, and finally realizes that he’s not the only one awake. There’s Neil, sitting by the fire, huddled up in his blanket, poking around in the wood with a stick.

“Rick? Do you want some tea?”

This sounds good. Also, the fire might just dry his hair. “What kind of tea?”

“Blackberry tea.”

“Where did you get blackberries?”

“Nono, just the leaves. Blackberry leaf tea.” Neil takes the stick out of the ashes and stirs a pot on the coals. “And the plants tried to sting me, too. And they held me a lecture on non-vegetable plant rights.”

“And where did you get the pot?” Rick takes his blanket to the fire.

“It’s an old soup can. Good, huh? We’re cleaning the woods from the careless marks of civilization, while making tea.”

Rick pokes at the fire with the tip of his shoe. “Can you make it warmer?”

“No, Rick, I can not make it warmer”, says Neil, knowing very well that Rick isn’t very great on these organic things. “But if you want to make it bigger, you have to throw more wood on it and blow. – Careful with the tea.” Neil passes the pot on to Rick. “The leaves are, like, a little spiky. Don’t swallow them.”

“I hate it here.” Rick drinks carefully. It doesn’t really taste like anything except hot water. “Hiding under some rocks in the woods like some… like some… fugitive!”

“We’re hiding from the pigs, Rick”, sighs Neil. “That’s something anarchists do, so just stop whining about the rocks, or the rain, or the water creeping into your underpants, or in your shoes, or missing the TV, or missing your bed, or missing canned beans. Or anything you dislike out here. That’s what we’re doing now – defying civilization. Heavily.”

Rick sneezes. “I didn’t know it was like this.”

“Hmpf. Well, neither did I”, admits Neil, with less ardour than before.

Rick sneezes again, and then a boot comes out of nowhere and hits him in the head. He jumps up. “Vyvyan!!”

“Shut up.”

“You threw your shoe at me!”

“You can’t prove it!” comes a defiant, drowsy voice from the sleeping patch.

“It’s your bloody boot!”

“Then don’t make so much noise! I’m trying to sleep!”

“I’m sneezing, you bastard! Sneezing myself to death!!”

“I’m going to sleep right here, if you don’t mind.” Neil stretches out on the nearly-dry ground, and wraps his blanket around himself. Puts his head on his elbow and snuggles in, and then proceeds to breathe very deeply and slowly.

“Selfish bastard.” Neil has taken up all the space by the fire that isn’t occupied by craggy rocks. “You have the warmest place to sleep, and me?”

Neil doesn’t answer.

“Shut your stupid trap! And give me my boot back!”

“Oh shut yours, Vyvyan! You have a dry, warm place to sleep, and you don’t have a care in the world, so shut up!!”

“Hnnnnnngh.” Vyvyan gets to his feet and stomps over to the fire. Snatches his boot out of Rick’s hand, and sits on a rock as well; takes off his other boot and holds his socks close to the fire.

Rick sneezes.

“Stop that sneezing, I can’t stand it!”

“Yeah. Give it to me, that’s the ticket! Pick on me when I’m sick! I might catch pneumonia and die out here, away from any medical help, but that would suit you all fine, wouldn’t it?”

“You would make a great guerrilla fighter. Gaaaawd, you’re such a mummy’s boy.”

Rick swallows. No more parents. No more visits home. There’s no one there to welcome him, make food for him, wash his clothes, make his bed… he’d do anything to come home and find his bed made. But no more. Nobody will ever do that for him again. He has no-one who will. All he has now is Neil, Mike and Vyvyan. And that’s a bleak perspective.

Vyvyan is now looking at him, chewing on his lip. “Okay, you’re not a mummy’s boy”, he rasps. “There. Now stop crying.”

“I’m not crying, pooh-head.”

“If Neil was awake, he’s say something like, you need to talk about your feelings.” Vyv kicks Neil carefully, and Neil grunts.

Rick looks up with bloodshot eyes and nearly laughs. “Well, my parents died, I got homeless and I got really rich, all in two days – there’s not even a word for how I’m feeling. I don’t think a lot of people ever get into this situation.”

Vyvyan stares at the fire, opens his mouth, closes it again and then says: “If you want to… talk about it… you can talk to me. Maybe… you feel better when you got it off your… uhm… chest.”

“You read that in a book and learned it by heart.”

“…yes”, says Vyv proudly.

“Of course. No. I don’t want to talk about it, and why do you even give a damn? None of you cares about me. You three wouldn’t give a shit if I died”, spits Rick.

There is a bit of silence. The flames are licking upward on a new piece of wood, and it gets warmer.

“Well, I would care if you died”, muses Vyvyan. “For one, then I would get a third of the money, not a quarter.”

“Thank you. You’re a tremendous pal.”

“And also…” Vyvyan shrugs, then checks if Neil still looks asleep, and continues. “I guess it’s true what they say about the person you lose your virginity to. That you… get attached to him.”

Rick sneers. “That’s only said about girls.”

Vyvyan stares into the fire some more. “Hm. I liked snogging with you”, he says in a lower voice.

Rick, overwhelmed by anger and who-knows-what, fires back. “Ew! Don’t be so bloody girly, Vyvyan!”

“Girly? Mee-hee? You’re the one who took it up the bum!”

“Shhh!” Rick motions him to be silent, and continues in a very low voice. “That doesn’t undermine my masculinity!”

“And you wear dresses. And you have braids.”

“Don’t be so sexist!! Anyway, just because I… experimented… once, that doesn’t mean I’m girly!”

“Well, I experimented too, but it didn’t make me look nearly as girly as you!”

“Aha? Well, what did you do then?”

“I snogged with SPG when I was really drunk”, declares Vyvyan proudly.

Rick takes a moment to process this. “Wait. This mouth… you… you kissed me with the same lips that you kissed a hamster with?”

“And the same tongue. Had it in both cheek pouches.”

“ERGH!” Rick retches and holds his stomach. “I hate you! You disgusting pervert!”

Vyvyan chuckles and wags his head contentedly.

“God, I hate this place. I hate this wood, I hate the rain, I hate your hamster and I hate you, especially. I’m going back to bed. To the cold, wet place, where water is dripping on me all the time.” Rick crawls back into the mould that his body has caused in the ground. “So that I’m probably going to catch a pneumonia and die. If I don’t die of some creepy hamster disease before that. Just give me the place in the rain, that’s right.”

Vyvyan kneels by the top end of Rick’s mould, and begins to push himself under Rick’s blanket.

“Vyvyan, stop it! What are you… stop it! Get out of my bed!”

But it’s not much use. Vyv pushes Rick away, so that Rick has no choice but to roll over on Vyv’s old place.

Where it’s dry and warm, and closer to the fire.

Rick’s stomach feels heavy and red-hot with indignity. He huffs, crawls under Vyvyan’s blanket and curls up. Warm and dry.

Vyvyan has already made himself at home, and is sinking into blissful sleep. Rick watches him disgustedly. Water is dripping down on his head, making his middle mohawk hang to the side. Vyv just twitches his mouth, and smacks his lips.

Rick has goosebumps all over his legs. Shivers of warm and cold are taking him over, preparing him for a comfortable sleep (as comfortable as earth can get, anyway), and as he gets warmer, he watches Vyv’s hair get wet and lean towards the ground.

What the hell is going on with Vyvyan lately, and why is Rick afraid that he might catch it?

It is then that Vyvyan starts to snore.