Summer is coming, and Rio has a home game. As a student athlete, he’s often up very early in the mornings for training, or for early morning games. It’s hard to keep friends with such a busy schedule, but this doesn’t matter much, because Rio makes friends everywhere he goes. Half the time, all he has to do is step into a room, and everyone insists on speaking to him. Although classes are over, Rio still participates in activities put on by the university, and he still has hockey games.
This morning, he saw Enki in the hallway, and neither spoke to the other. It’s early in the morning. It’s sunny, but it doesn’t feel like home. It never has. Early morning practices are a pain in the ass. Before bed, Rio enjoys a good workout. Last week, he took Ivo to a museum after work. It was hard to tell whether he enjoyed this or not - and Ivo seems determined to drive Rio away with hostility. He knows almost nothing about Ivo’s past. Once or twice, he’s asked a question. Nothing ever comes of it.
At Cassia’s memorial, little was spoken of her death. It was known by most that there had been a home invasion, but the specifics were never revealed to extended family and friends. Rio isn’t sure how he would explain it, if he was asked. He isn’t sure he’ll ever stop blaming himself. Cassia always wore dresses, even during rainy season, and loved to color with crayons and help make meals. Often, Rio wonders what the little girl would have been like. If she were still alive, she’d be fourteen years old, and maybe she’d love fishing, or dancing, or playing an instrument. On the day of the incident, the last thing Rio had done with Cassia was yell at her.
It’s sixty eight degrees. Rio refuses to wear sunscreen, because he never burns, and hates the sticky feeling. Even though his fathers told him in childhood the dangers of going without sunscreen, he can’t be all that bothered.
When he was twelve, Rio learned how to braid hair. It took him quite long to master cornrows: but they last him a month, and aren’t hard to maintain when he’s got a busy schedule. Late last night, he spent almost four hours braiding and beading his hair.
A good workout is always so energizing. It leaves Rio feeling refreshed and energetic ,even early in the morning. He has plans with Ivo today, which feels strange, but he already told him he’d show up to his house at random times. Public transportation takes a long time. It’s hard to make plans with someone who refuses to use technology or social media.
Rio bangs on the door of the shed Ivo uses as a bedroom. Most of the things Ivo does make no sense. Rio’s relationship with him is exciting and unexpected, and keeps him unprepared.
“Four-Eyes!” He knocks loudly and repeatedly, giving Ivo no choice but to open the door. He almost always wears suspenders, and acts as though everything is a huge inconvenience to him. Everybody has their defense mechanisms.
Ivo lives in his cousin’s home, but there are no vehicles parked outside. Music plays inside the shed: the kind of music Rio’s grandfather would listen to. It stops; Ivo opens the door, scowling. “What, dipshit?”
When the sun comes out, Ivo bundles up underneath hats, sweaters, and sunglasses. Bright lights hurt his eyes, he says. “Come over.”
“I don’t want to.”
Ivo argues with everything Rio says. He’s like a defiant teenager, doing the exact opposite of what he’s told. It’s easy to get under his skin. Rio knows what sort of things will get a reaction. “Come on.” He steps closer, placing his hands on the shed wall on either side of Ivo, knowing he loves feeling like prey. Rio speaks close to Ivo’s face, letting his mouth brush against the boy’s ear. “You know you want me to pin you down until you’re wriggling under my hands. You want that, don’t you?”
Most people are easy to read. It’s almost impossible to read Ivo. He shivers. “Okay.”
Rio drives a pink Ford Roadster. He received the car on his sixteenth birthday from his grandfather, who sells vintage vehicles, and he enjoys the speed, and the attention. “Why do you dress like that, anyway? You look like a ninety year old man. I think my grandpa has extra suspenders if you ever run out.”
“Oh, whatever.” Rio has parked down the street, and finds his car easily. When he and Ivo get in, the boy throws his feet up onto the dash. “At least I don’t dress like a douchebag.” He wears sunglasses, which are round and silver, and don’t suit his face. “Isn’t your dorm a fucking mess, Rio?”
How can someone so young be so old? Ivo has the personality of an eighty year old man, and he dresses the part. When people say you’re an old soul, they mean you’re a loner, and they don’t want to deal with you being withdrawn. Maybe he’s been reincarnated too many times, he’s become stuck in the ways of the past. Rio wonders if the boy believes in an afterlife, or any sort of spirituality at all. This is something that can be discussed later.
His dorm is not that bad. Sure, it’s cluttered, but it could be much messier. “Some of us own more than three things, asshole.” He pauses, thinks through his next words for a few moments before saying them. “Come on a trip with me.”
The sun is bright. Ivo puts his visor down. “Where?”
“Anchorage.”
“Why?”
Rio shrugs. “Why not? It’s almost my birthday, and I’m bored.”
A moment passes. Ivo pushes his glasses up to look at Rio suspiciously, and then he lowers them. “Fine.”
The boy is so hard to impress. Rio hasn’t known him that long, and he’s already aware of this fact. He drives the rest of the way to the college in silence, and claims his parking spot. Rio hates paying for parking. Even with a student pass, it isn’t free. “So, my house is over here…” He enjoys having his own space. The dorm has large windows, but they also have blinds. This comes in handy when Rio brings people home to have a good time with. His father likes to check in: make sure he’s being safe and responsible. “It’s a bit messy-”
“A bit?” Ivo snorts, sliding a pile of clothing out of the way with his foot. “It feels like an explosion went off in here. Do you ever clean?”
They’ve got a strange relationship. It isn’t hatred, and it isn’t quite love. The man drives him crazy, but somehow, he still can’t seem to leave him alone. “Okay, Mr. Perfect, sorry I’m not a neat freak like you. Why don’t you clean my room if it bothers you so much?”
“You wish.” Instead of cleaning, Ivo tosses his bags onto the floor, adding to the mess.
Rio’s door has a lock, for some reason. He’s never had a problem with it. It’s obvious Ivo doesn’t work out. He’s scrawny, short; it’s almost too easy for Rio to pick him up. He’s a bit horny. “Do you like to be dominated?” He knows the answer to this, already, but he wants to hear Ivo say it. A few days ago, they had a conversation about BDSM, and then fucked in Rio’s dorm room in the middle of the night. Ivo loves getting under Rio’s skin. He never does what he’s told.
The smaller boy stands against the wall. “You know the answer to that.”
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When Rio takes him by the throat, he doesn’t object. “Do you like to be degraded?”
Ivo really is beautiful. His eyes are small, downturned, always sad underneath his gigantic glasses. “Yes.”
“What about pain?” Rio drags his fingers down the boy’s cheeks, which are pink with color, and warm to the touch. “Do you want me to hurt you?”
This time, the word is a whisper. “Yes.”
Rio loves being dominant, and he’s good at it. Ivo’s a brat. Rio has an endless number of punishments. He whispers, raspy and impatient, his mouth lingering atop Ivo’s, not quite touching it. “Can I do whatever I want to you?”
It’s noisy outside the room. Ivo ducks his head. “Yes.”
“Choose a safe word.”
“Potato.”
This is not what Rio was expecting, but he goes with it. “Can I record myself fucking you?”
Ivo nods, letting Rio push him against a wall, watching him set up a camera. Sometimes, Rio forgets Ivo can’t see very well, and forgets to tell him what’s going on around them. “I’m recording us. Now suck my dick.”
Although Ivo frowns, there’s a twinkle in his eye. “No.”
There’s always a limit. There always has to be space to change your mind. Ivo likes being treated as an object. He says this himself. “Do it. Now.” Rio grabs Ivo by the wrist, shoving him backward onto a bed. His skin is soft, and tastes like cotton candy. He lets Rio bite his neck, and ears. “If you don’t, I’ll have to punish you. Would you rather I use my hand or a paddle?” He has some paddles. Enki never let him use them, but things might change now. She was never adventurous enough for Rio, anyway.
When Rio started becoming interested in relationships, his parents made sure to teach him about safe, responsible sex. You always need to be certain everything you do is consensual, they’d say. There isn’t much that makes him feel uncomfortable.
Ivo’s given him head before. He’s good at it, and he never looks away. Rio puts his head back, his hand pressed against the side of Ivo’s face, guiding it. “You’re a slut.”
Some people don’t like being degraded. Enki didn’t. Rio is good at switching up his tactics. Ivo looks up at him, flushed. “Mhm.”
“Say it.” Rio smirks, his fingers tight and stiff around Ivo’s hair. He stretches out, using one hand to effortlessly guide the boy’s head. Rio gets off on degrading people. Lucky for him, Ivo is into this. He’s disobedient. Rio slaps him across the face. “I said, say it. So I can hear you.”
It’s hard to speak with a cock in your mouth. Ivo doesn’t seem to struggle, which is disappointing. “I’m a slut.”
Rio grunts, his hair loose and covering half his face. It’s hardly ever loose. He takes Ivo by the hair, yanking his head, so that the two men are eye-to-eye. “You’re a bitch.” He holds the boy’s hair tightly, tugging, and spits in his mouth. “Aren’t you, Flower?”
Ivo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good boy.” Rio lets his hair go, kisses his mouth roughly, not afraid to cause pain. Rio can do whatever he wants, and Ivo won’t complain. “Strip. Now.” He lets Ivo go, abruptly, turning to the side table by the couch. When he checks on the boy, who hasn’t moved, he snarls. “Did I stutter, bitch? Strip before I get the paddle out.” Rio can be aggressive when he’s horny. Nobody is obligated to play along.
Ivo begins to undress, letting his clothes fall to the floor by his feet, nearly bumping his glasses off his face. “Good boy.” After removing his jeans, Rio grabs Ivo, throws him onto the unmade bed, straddles him. It’s been a while since he’s done anything really kinky. He’s missed it. He holds both of Ivo’s arms behind his back, quiet until he mutters.
“Are you going to fuck me now?”
“Mhm.” Rio touches slowly, softly, preparing himself with the lubricant on his bedside table. He doesn’t need a lot. “Hold still, slut.” He adjusts, shoves himself inside with vigor, listens to the quick exhale from a sub who just can’t keep quiet. “You’re going to do what I tell you, and you’re going to be good about it. Aren’t you?”
Ivo grumbles. “I’ll do what I want, idiot.” He squirms, getting comfortable, letting Rio continue his nibbles and bites. “Are you going to let me cum this time?
“Only if you deserve it.” Rio knows what he wants, and he’ll do anything to get it. “Now shut up. You’ll do as I say.” He moves quickly, unkindly. He grumbles, breathing in Ivo’s ear, “I want to actually hear you making noise.” Rio isn’t the loudest in the world, but he doesn’t try to be quiet, either. “Don’t be such a prude.”
Things have changed between them. Rio isn’t sure when, but all of a sudden he feels the need to please Ivo during sex, and not just fuck around to get his rocks off. He wouldn’t say it’s love, or even overt affection, but things feel different now. Ivo is very mysterious, and Rio enjoys puzzles. He’s good at them, too. Ivo tries not to be noisy. Despite this, he can’t help but squirm and whimper. He knows not to cum without permission, but likes to do it anyway, like a brat.
Past partners have told Rio they like his animalistic behavior. He groans in Ivo’s ear, and scratches down his stomach, and tosses him around like an animal fighting with its prey. “Stop touching yourself, bitch. I’ll get to you later.”
There’s clothing all over the bed. Ivo wiggles and squirms, one eye crossing underneath his glasses. His eyes do this a lot. “What if I don’t? You’ll punish me?” He breathes loudly, grabbing Rio by the hair.
“I love it when you’re needy.” Rio grips Ivo by the wrists, holding his arms down above his head, spitting in his face. “You’re not very good at listening, are you, Flower?” He’s unsure why he keeps using this nickname: but it fits the mood, and it seems suiting. He teases Ivo’s cock with his hands, fucking him roughly, enjoying the sight of the man helpless and whimpering. Ivo’s not the vulnerable type. It’s an exciting change of pace watching him come undone. There’s something satisfying about making people beg. Rio has made a lot of people beg. He loves to be in control, and to watch his subs whine and whimper, waiting for more. Ivo can’t move - but it’s not like he tries very hard. It’s easy to tell when someone is about to cum. Instead of getting Ivo off, he lets go.
“Rio!”
Four-Eyes rarely calls him by his name. With the desperation in his voice, it sounds like heaven.
Earlier this morning, Ivo got in a fistfight. It wasn’t his first, and it certainly won’t be his last. When Rio is upset, he takes some time to himself to meditate and regroup. When Ivo is upset, he fights and steals. It had begun with him swiping an energy drink from a supermarket, and being questioned by a man in the adjacent checkout line. Ivo is often calm, introspective - but he has a temper. When he acts out, everybody knows he’s feeling pain.
“Stop it, Ivo,” Rio had said, tugging on his arm. “Let’s just go.” He knew this wouldn’t work, but his first defense is always kindness. They were in the parking lot, having gathered a crowd of bystanders, shouting and chanting. Ivo hadn’t started the fight, but he had provoked the man, and now here they were, fist fighting in a supermarket parking lot.
In the moment, Ivo had shoved Rio out of the way: he was taken aback by this. But Rio is calm and quick, and grabbed Ivo with both hands. It isn’t hard; the man is only five foot six. “Stop!” Rio had shouted, yanking the boy off his opponent, and tackling him to the ground. “You can’t just attack people when they upset you!” He’d apologized profusely to the man, and tugged on Ivo’s arm: tightly, so that he had no choice but to follow Rio to the car. “What’s gotten into you, Four-Eyes?”
Ivo rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so fucking noble, don’t you?” He’d gotten into the car crossly, acting like a child who’d just been told no. “Saint Rio, who never does anything wrong. Give me a break.” Ivo had lost his temper with Rio before, and Rio was sure he’d do it again. Most people would be upset. Rio is a spiritual person, and knows that angry people are just hurting.
He'd turned the car on, taken a moment to let Ivo seethe, and then touched his arm. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
The crowd in the parking lot was dispersing. Ivo didn’t respond to Rio’s touch, but he didn’t reject it, either. Sometimes, he pushes or punches Rio, and he never apologizes. “Fuck off.”
“Okay.” Something Rio learned from his fathers is that you can’t force a person to talk about something. It will make them defensive, it will make them recoil away from the conversation. Rio’s parents never pressured him into discussing his feelings. But he always did, when he was good and comfortable. He suspects Ivo will do the same. “Well, I just want you to know it’s okay to be angry. But you can’t make that anger other people’s problem.”
Ivo scoffed, shrugging Rio’s hand off his arm. “Just take me home.” He opened the stolen drink and took a swig. He was quiet, staring out the window as Rio began to drive.