Rock'n' Roll Flaneuse (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} helvissa) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} albion_fic,@ 2004-08-27 18:58:00 |
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| Current music: | Edwyn Collins "Johnny Teardrop" |
Franz rent boy slash!
Edit: If you want to link to this fic in an article (or even read a paragraph of it on national radio), please ask me, or at least let me know first. I don't think my poor mother enjoyed choking on her muesli while reading John Sutherland's article on slash in the Sunday Telegraph, and realised that her daughter is one of the 'examples'.
Graphic naughties, so an 18 rating. Stars the Franz Ferdinand lads and has a special appearance from lovely Morrissey. And this never happened!
Inspired by the poster in NME, which jodie_mouse said made The Franz look like rent boys. This of course made me think of the Morrissey song "Piccadilly Palare"... ;D
Me And The Boys In My Gang
It had started to rain. Hardly noticeable, but it was there and had its effect. Passers-by started to hurry, their glances at the group of young men on the corner more intense. Alex shrugged his shoulders up in his mac and hoped the rain wouldn’t spoil his hair. Beside him, Nick was combing his own, already too oiled for the rain to make much difference. Bob put one hand on his hip and rested the other on the wall behind him, as if to say he was open and ready. His apple red cheeks had deepened in colour in the cold and Alex wanted to rub them warm again. But something stopped him. He knew that to get anywhere in this game, he would have to look poised and preened. Larking about with the lads might be some old queen’s cup of tea, but it wasn’t for all, and it hinted at a bit of rough trade who wouldn’t bother to be discreet. Paul had already been picked up: his trick had said something about liking facial hair and muttered about the other three being “too pretty”.
So for the crime of being pretty, trade was slow on this cold night? Was that really so? Alex couldn’t guess – they were new to this game after all. He had so far administered fellatio in some dark Soho alleys, and had once been taken to a dressing room in a theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue where an old drunk actor had sobbed on his shoulder and had only asked for Alex to flash himself. It seemed easy, really. The blowjobs weren’t great, but with his eyes shut he could pretend it was anyone else at all. How else, though, were four boys from Glasgow to make their way in London? They had soon realised they had a new-in-town charm that the clients liked, but surely that would soon wear off and they would be like the jaded rent boys who lolled about in the New Piccadilly Café, aged before their time, moaning about the cost of cigarettes and taking all night to drink one cappuccino.
But unlike the other three, Alex was yet to go beyond blow jobs. Paul was confident his trick would pay enough that he wouldn’t have to work for a couple of days. Such it was when you looked like a bit of rough. And that stripy shirt gave him a nautical air, as if he was a muscle-bound hunk lying wantonly in his bunk at sea. Alex was nervous. Of course he knew that by plying this ancient trade, he would eventually be asked for penetration, and he knew he could make more money from it than just sucking someone off. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He had to at least like the person a bit – maybe even love them slightly. He wasn’t like the others who could pretend they were in love for money. Alex couldn’t.
He watched the crowds hurry by, men arm-in-arm with other men, women twined about women. It seemed that so many people would give themselves for free, for just a couple of hours of cheap thrills, that his new job – a way to make money on nights when the band didn’t have a gig – was fairly pointless. In some ways, he liked to catch their eyes as they passed, the men who looked him up and down, trying to assess the content of his trousers and the potential for arousal in his eyes. Do you like what you see? Will you pay the price? Can I pretend to love you?
“How much, ducks?” said a middle aged man in a mac. The shoulders were pitted with raindrops and his head was bowed as if he carried a great burden. Alex saw the wedding ring, and the man went straight for Bob.
“Who’s asking?”
A brief encoded negotiation later and Bob scuttled off to a cheap hotel somewhere.
Nick was claimed next. Alex reckoned it was the eyes, something he was very fond of himself. But he pushed that thought aside: there was no room for jealousy in business. Nick’s eyes were so blue, so laser-like, that you either saw them and fled, or tumbled into them, unable to escape. His trick was a small man who stood little chance of pulling a one-night stand in a nightclub where all the men showed off their tanned biceps in white singlet vests and pretended to be over six foot tall.
Alone now, Alex smoked and tried to exhale erotically. It didn’t work too well as it made him cough. He leant against the door of the barbers, which was closed for the night. He hated being the last one to be chosen, it was like being the last one to be picked for the team at school. Nasty memories assaulted him, of the smell of plimsolls and sweaty Airtex shirts, and the fear of an erection in the showers. He kept trying to catch the eyes of the single men who passed, but their lack of interest in him made Alex unattractive with tedium.
Then he realised someone was stood next to him.
“You look as bored as I feel,” he said.
Alex stared at the man. He leant his elbow against the doorpost, creating an archway over Alex’s head with his arm.
“It’s a bit slow tonight,” Alex said.
He wasn’t sure if this man realised that he would have to pay. But the man was attractive, certainly. He looked like he was in his forties from the wrinkles round his eyes and the grey at his temples, but he was in pretty good shape. His suit was brown and looked expensively well-made, and his pale purple shirt and tie were immaculate. His tieclip was set with amber, which matched the stones set in his rings. The man smiled with his mouth, but his eyebrows were untamed and made him look ferocious. Alex started to feel afraid: the man looked a bit like a gangster, the kind who seems gentle but whose every fibre twitches with latent fury.
“There’s a club, y’know,” the man said.
His voice was gentle, Northern. Alex relaxed a bit – he was with a fellow non-Southerner and automatically felt at home with another exile. And when he looked at the man’s face and felt the eyes on him – they were like Nick’s and had the same effect on Alex. He dived into them with the same gasp he felt on the falling dream that always woke him up just as he went to sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t ask the man to pay. Even though he could obviously afford it. Maybe he could just have a night out with him, human affection instead of a business transaction. But no – affection doesn’t pay the rent.
“Look, y’know, I think you’re a great looking guy,” Alex said. The man smiled and looked slightly embarrassed. “But… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I have to pay the rent on my bedsit, and I haven’t any other way of getting the money.”
The man lost his smile. He ran his tongue over his lip. Alex touched his hand to the man’s strong jaw and the man clasped Alex’s fingers and wouldn’t let go.
“I’m sorry,” Alex said.
“If I asked you to come with me, I wouldn’t be able to pay you. It would kill me. But… I’ll give you the money you ask as a gift. And call me Steve,” he said, and kissed Alex’s hand.
Alex gulped. He started to hate himself. It was bad enough what prostitution did to himself, but it degraded the client even more – they had to admit to themselves that no-one would be intimate with them unless they paid.
*
They walked. Out of Soho, to streets where shops sold things so frivolous and so expensive, it was a wonder anyone was stupid enough to buy them. Hands in pockets, they walked a few inches apart, swerving occasionally so their elbows brushed, just to gently remind each other that they were still there. They didn’t speak. If they had, it would be about being a man, and they couldn’t say those things in public.
Soon they came to a brightly-lit hotel. Alex hunched his shoulders as if he was hiding himself in his coat – he felt ashamed. This man must be well off to be staying in a place like this. Everything shone and everywhere was the scent of fresh flowers and polished wood and leather sofas.
Once the lift doors closed on them, Steve put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and gently, quickly kissed his lips. He stood away and smiled, and Alex tried to smile back, but he couldn’t – stunned by the tenderness of the man and the threat of affection.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Steve said, as he opened to door to his hotel room.
Alex unbuttoned his coat and suddenly Steve was helping him – slowly stroking the fibre of the coat, twisting the buttons, pressing his hand against Alex’s body through the layers of clothes he was still wearing. It wasn’t right that Steve could make something so simple, so erotic. He threw Alex’s coat onto a chair and straight away slackened his tie. Alex started to get the hang of what he was supposed to do. He took one end of Steve’s tie and whipped it off in one movement from his neck. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, then leant in and kissed Alex’s lips again. He was so gentle that Alex found himself responding, putting a hand behind the man’s head and feeling the short crop of his hair, like velvet. Steve stroked Alex’s face and slipped a hand on his waist. Alex realised he’d become hard, but he couldn’t help it – kissing always had this effect on him, even though he thought he’d spent too long in the cold for everything to work as it should. Steve had noticed and pushed his groin against Alex’s, to show that he was erect as well.
Alex moved his face from Steve’s eager mouth and tried to talk business, which wasn’t easy with Steve fondling Alex through his trousers.
“Just tell me what you want.”
“You tell me what you think I want.”
“Why can you not tell me?”
“What do you think?”
“I can toss you off. Or I’ll toss myself off and you can watch. If you want me to give you a blow job, that’ll cost a bit more.”
“Or…? You seem to have missed something else off the menu.”
“You want….”
The man kissed Alex’s neck, then made sure he held his gaze as he sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes.
“Now, Alex, why do you think I brought you back to my room? If I’d wanted those other things, we could have gone up a back alley. Pardon the pun.”
Alex laughed at the bad joke. It diffused some of the nervousness that filled the room.
“Do you want me to undress?” Alex asked, moving towards the bed.
Steve caught his arm with desperate violence and steered Alex closer. His blue eyes were very beautiful, Alex thought. In fact, he was bloody handsome, and obviously wasn’t short of a bob or two, so why –.
“This is the first time you’ve ever had a rent boy, isn’t it?”
Steve put his hands over Alex’s mouth, then took them away to unbuckle Alex’s trousers. He eased them off Alex’s narrow hips and brought his Y-fronts down with them. Alex’s erection sprang out, and Steve raised a cheeky eyebrow.
“Would it be arrogant of me to think you find me attractive?”
Alex shuddered as Steve unbuttoned Alex’s shirt and pushed it off his arms. He threw it on the floor and put his hands on Alex’s hips, smiling at his aroused nudity. Then, too fast for Alex to know what was happening, Steve lunged forward and took Alex in his mouth. As Alex wrapped his arms around Steve’s head and shoulders to keep his balance, his rational mind tried to wrestle with his desire, asking – is the client supposed to do this? Hadn’t you promised this to Nick only, in the narrow bed you share in the cold, damp bedsit? Alex’s desire chased the voice away.
Steve dug his fingers into Alex’s bare buttocks to gain purchase and probed the flesh, working his way down the cleavage to the anus. So he was making it clear what he wanted. Through the lustful haze of feeling his cock in the soft warmth of Steve’s mouth, Alex tried to think things through. He’d done it before, with lovers. And the other three boys had already been paid to do it, so why shouldn’t he? Only – only he couldn’t get away from the intimacy of it, how he thought he should love someone before they – and then he looked down and saw Steve’s eyes and he felt that swooning, falling sensation again. And he realised. This was a bit like love, a bit.
Steve wouldn’t let Alex come. When he felt him bucking against his mouth, he moved his face away.
“Thank you,” Alex sighed.
“Remember,” Steve said, “I’m not paying you – the money is a gift. For a highly enjoyable one-night stand. Or maybe this is just a prelude… an overture for something more? Because – oh, you do like me, don’t you?”
Alex’s rational mind shrieked at him, don’t confuse sex with love! But it was too late. Stood naked and on the edge of orgasm in front of a handsome, tender man, Alex replied, “Yes, I like you.”
He started to undo Steve’s shirt and stroked the hair on his chest as it became exposed. “You’re pretty handsome, y’ know. Sexy bloke.”
“You mean it? Not just ‘cos I’m giving you money?”
Alex pushed Steve onto his back and kissed him while he unbuttoned his shirt, his erection digging into Steve’s stomach.
“Of course I mean it. And you know you are anyway. You dress like a narcissist! And, heck, you only have to look in a mirror.”
Alex lifted himself up and took down Steve’s trousers. When he pulled down his underpants, Alex looked scared at the size of the cock that rose up from Steve’s crotch.
“Don’t be scared,” Steve said, stroking Alex’s arm. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
He pulled Alex onto the bed beside him and caressed his slim body. The thighs, the back, he seemed to count the ribs, and then he nibbled Alex’s ear. Their cocks were hot against each other’s stomachs.
“Now tell me…,” Steve whispered, “Would you have come with me if we’d met differently?”
“How do you mean?” Alex asked. He rubbed his hands over the man’s surprisingly well-built chest and tweaked his hard nipples.
“Let’s pretend…,” the man began. “We should pretend that you’re not a rent boy, and we didn’t meet on a street corner in the rain. Let’s see…,” he rolled Alex onto his side and lay behind him. Gently, gently, he entered Alex, whispering in his ear, “I go to a club. Alone. And you’re there. I see you on the dancefloor. A vision.” He reached over and clasped Alex’s cock and started to rub it. “You’re the best looking boy in the club. I watch you move and I can’t breathe, I can’t believe how beautiful you are.” Alex held Steve’s arm and reached over to caress his muscular thigh as he thrusted into him. “I watch you dance. There’s no-one else in the room as far as I’m concerned. Other men approach you, but you always turn away from them. I think I have a chance, but I’m not brave enough to claim you. Then I realise you’re leaving the dancefloor and you’re heading straight for me.”
Alex turned his face to look at Steve. He was pushing further, his eyes closed. He ran his tongue over his lip, concentrating on being true to his promise that he would be gentle.
“Yes,” Alex said, knowing he wasn’t lying when he said, “I would. If I saw you look at me, I’d come to you.”
Steve opened his eyes. “You would? Oh, thank god,” and he kissed Alex’s lips.
Alex was sure he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. It felt amazing and had been going on for what seemed to be an incredible sweaty eternity. Then, he realised Steve was heading for orgasm. As was Alex. He felt as if his groin was on fire and he cried out as he came into Steve’s hand. Steve followed almost immediately and trembled as he put his arms around Alex and kissed his neck.
“Stay with me,” Steve said. He turned Alex to face him and they hugged each other. They couldn’t keep their hands still and stroked each other’s sweaty bodies in a desperation of lust. “I can’t let you walk way from this bed to go back to that street corner just to kneel down in alleyways. Tell me that’s not selfish of me.”
Alex gazed into the man’s eyes and wanted to cry. “I don’t want to leave you, but… oh, Steve, I wish it was different, I really do. But I have to work, and the more I stay here with you, the more business I miss.”
“I realise that, but… can’t you find some other job? Anything but this. You’re beautiful, you’re sexy… I don’t want to think of you being used by other men when I love you.”
“You love me?” Alex smiled. “Look, I do have another job. I’m only a rent boy to make ends meet. Me and my friends, we’re in a band.”
“Are you really?” the man said. “Why on earth didn’t you say so? I think I can help.”
“How?”
Morrissey looked at Alex and smiled, “I’m a singer.”
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