Rio is speeding again. He does this a lot, and somehow, always manages to talk his way out of speeding tickets. Hanging from his mirror is a white pendulum, and a feather he found outside of the college campus. Ivo knows about the coven, but refuses to participate in their activities. There are no gods, he’s thought for years, no afterlife, certainly there’s no such thing as magic. Every time he brings this up, Rio tells him to be more open-minded.

“Slow down,” says Ivo, throwing his legs up onto the dashboard. “You’re going to get into an accident.” For how old Rio’s car is, it sure is fast. He weaves in and out of traffic, revving his engine and zooming by frustrated drivers. Ivo doesn’t understand the excitement of speeding. He has no sense of humor, and never makes jokes. Rio hates this. No one gives a shit what Rio thinks.

“Relax,” he says, zooming through a yellow light. “I’ve never got into an accident in my life. I’m a good driver.”

Ivo rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot, that’s what you are. I hope you get pulled over.” Sometimes he wonders why he’s dating Rio, still. For someone who claims not to take dating seriously, the man sure spends a lot of time begging for Ivo’s attention. It doesn’t matter how many attempts Ivo makes to sabotage their relationship. Rio’s like an annoying puppy, and doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.

He smirks, pulling easily into the back alley of the mobile home, and leans across the seat to kiss him. “See you at the game tonight, Four-Eyes. Try not to miss me too much. I know that’s asking a lot.” He’s an arrogant son of a bitch. People only like him because he’s a student athlete. Recently, he explained to Ivo what it means to be polyamorous, and insisted on knowing how he felt about it. Ivo doesn’t give a fuck. He’s been telling Rio to leave him alone for months.

In high school, Juno had a crush on a boy in her English class. At sixteen, she was a hopeless romantic, and a little delusional. She came into Ivo’s bedroom one day after school, flustered, and threw her backpack onto the floor inside his bedroom. He wasn’t allowed to have girls in his room. If it were anybody other than Juno or Aspen, Anika would have lost her mind. “Ivo,” said Juno, flopping down dramatically beside him on top of the bed, “guess what just happened.”

He scowled. “You messed up my blankets.” He’d been trying to study. Juno always barged into his room unannounced. She was an annoying girl who had no friends, and she clung to him like they were best friends, and not just cousins forced into the same space.

Juno sounded less than impressed. “Forget about your blankets for a minute. Dakota asked me to come over and hang out tomorrow!”

Juno was stupid. He told her this all the time. She isn’t dead. Anika, who claims to be a religious woman, never organized a funeral. “He probably just felt bad because nobody likes you.” It’s easy to pity people. Nobody has any sort of common sense. “Don’t come crying to me when he asks you to fuck and then never speaks to you again.”

He was a lot smarter than Juno. When you learn to look out for yourself at a young age, you learn to be smart. At a certain point, Juno stopped confiding in him at all. She’d been upset. “Why can’t you ever just be happy for me?”

Some people think it’s better to sugarcoat the truth so people’s feelings don’t get hurt. No one ever gave a shit about Ivo’s feelings. If people act foolish, they need to be told. “You want me to be happy for you for being a massive idiot? Okay, fine. I’m happy for you. It’s no wonder you have no friends.” Juno cried a lot. She was brought to tears often after conversations with him, and went running to her parents like a child. She could never learn, though. Every time she got upset, she’d promise never to speak to him again. Every time she promised this, she’d be back within the week.

Before ever coming to America, Ivo learned about the existence of his father’s siblings. He made Anika’s life a living hell on purpose, and yet the bitch insisted on acting around strangers as though she loved and treasured him. People are all the same: desperate for the approval of others in public, and serving themselves in private. There’s no point in being two-faced. Ivo acts the same around everyone.

Since he began going out with Rio, he hasn’t attended a single hockey game. He hates sports, and crowds, and rarely does things he has no interest in. Rio has found a way around this, though. He holds the key to the chastity cage Ivo agreed to wear, and he uses this to his advantage. He withholds sex for weeks, but teases Ivo daily, and leaves him feeling desperate and on edge. Ivo doesn’t like feeling vulnerable. If he goes to the game, he might finally be allowed to cum.

Aspen lives with him now. She’s almost as insufferable as Juno was. Inside the house, she approaches slowly. “What are you doing today?” It’s hard to sneak up on Ivo. Though he has no peripheral vision, he’s observant, and hears even the quietest noises. Nobody knows how to leave him alone. Aspen doesn’t talk to him much these days.

“Why do you care?”

Aspen doesn’t leave the house much, and this is annoying. Ivo plans on leaving soon. “I’m tired of following the rules. I want to go out and do graffiti or break the law just so I can feel something.”

He buys his own food. This takes a very long time, and can’t be done without a magnifying glass. He’s been told his life would be easier with technology. Large corporations don’t care about the lives of their consumers. You already use some technology, Ciel has pointed out. You have a talking watch, and use public transportation. You complain about corporations all the time, but can’t go a day without supporting them somehow.

When he was a kid, Ivo got it in his head to build an off-the-grid home. He’s very good with money. In the next couple years, he plans on using money he’s saved to build his own house in the middle of nature. Living a solitary, technology-free life sounds like a nightmare for people brainwashed by consumerism. Most people are not smart enough to survive on their own in modern society. Most people wouldn’t last a day without the help of somebody else.

“Go do it, then.” Ivo keeps all his purchased food in his room. Otherwise, others would take it upon themselves to claim it. No one ever comes into the shed. He’s frustrated. He’s never let a man control his orgasms before, and it’s a pain in the ass.

Aspen sighs. She doesn’t have a job. She doesn’t even go to school half the time. “I need your help. You’re good at not getting caught. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

In the past, he has let her come along once or twice. But she’s slow, and draws a lot of attention to herself. Ivo doesn’t break the law for fun. People need to be reminded that authority means nothing. Aspen needs to learn how to fend for herself. “Get me an iced coffee.”

It’s getting colder outside. Summer always lasts too long.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Guess you’ll have to figure it out by yourself, then.”

Nobody ever learns. If you want something from someone, you have to be able to offer something in return. There’s not enough time in a lifetime to serve others without reimbursement. Ivo doesn’t care for money, but he always needs a coffee, and everything has a price.

“You have no sense of morality, you know.” Aspen’s taller than him. “You say you hate money, but make people pay you to do immoral things. You’re not any better than anybody else.” Aspen thinks she’s smart. This is the case for most people.

Ivo stands outside the shed, his hand on the door, feeling uncomfortable under the sun. “Morality isn’t real, idiot. Just because the majority of society says something is right or wrong doesn’t make it fact.” People believe what they’re told, and call things moral because they were told to. But nothing can be proven, and truth is not objective.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The beginning of another school year means an overabundance of students on public transportation. Ivo always sits at the front, and never thanks the bus driver when he gets off. There’s always too many people in public, and they all speak too loudly. He enjoys the temperature of the ice rink, but the lights are too bright, and sunglasses make everything look dark. Rio thinks he’s important. He speaks very animatedly to the team captain, looking around the arena. Rio was asked to be captain, once, he claims. Everyone knows the man wouldn’t recognize responsibility if it slapped him in the face.

Ivo sits at the back. If he weren’t so desperate to be freed and tortured, he wouldn’t be here at all. He can barely see the game, and relies on narration from commentators to make any sense of it at all.

Five months ago, Anika called Ciel to inform him of Juno’s death. The story was that she was taking a bath at her parents’ house when she had a seizure and drowned. It’s a believable enough story, except for one major detail. Although she apparently was no stranger to seizures, Juno insisted she could always feel them coming on, and she’d always make sure she was in a safe place beforehand. Ivo doesn’t care much if Juno’s dead or alive. Anika never did put much effort into consistency.

It’s getting dark. It takes a very long time to get around without a car. He never interacts with the men in Rio’s dorm. Although they sometimes try to make conversation with him, he isn’t friendly, and walks away from people in the middle of sentences. He’s been horny for weeks. There’s no reason why sexual submission should be so enticing. When the game ends and the spectators begin to file out, Ivo waits for a bus. This always takes longer than it should. He can see the lights of the buses approaching, and hear their tires on the road, but can’t tell which bus is which without being told.

The doors to the college are always unlocked. The hallways are dark, empty, it’s only ten at night. Most of the students who live on campus are in their dorms by now. Rio always stays up late, surviving on coffee and energy drinks. Ivo hates energy drinks. The only thing he drinks is iced coffee. The dorm room is messy and disarrayed, with clothing and clutter all over the floor, so that Ivo steps on it when he walks. Rio claims to be a witch. Ivo wishes he could see the details of his face. “Hey, Four-Eyes. Miss me?” He knows he’s hot, and this is infuriating.

“You wish, dipshit.” Rio thinks he’s so cool, fitting in easily and never struggling with anything a day in his life. The guy even got a scholarship to college, spending his teenage years with doctors for parents while Ivo froze to death on the street. It isn’t Rio’s fault he’s had an easy life. But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, and Ivo isn’t bitter.

“Uh huh. That’s why you’re looking at me like you want to jump my bones.”

When he was fifteen, Ivo lost his virginity in a motel room, to a much older man, after meeting him online. The man was in his thirties, and made Ivo feel special by buying him gifts and taking him on vacations, but this was all a secret. He’d sneak out to meet the man at secluded places, and Anika never caught on – or perhaps she did, and simply didn’t care. Ivo is old enough now to realize the truth behind this relationship. As a teenager, like all teenagers, he was just desperate for validation.

“Shut the fuck up.” His dick hurts. The cage is plastic and tight, and gets in the way when he tries to jerk off. This is the point of wearing it, but he’s been frustrated for days, and it leaves him irritable. When Rio touches his arm, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Take off your clothes.” Rio whispers. His voice is always low and husky.

Ivo began to question himself when he was thirteen. It was a long process, and Ivo remembers lying to himself for months, even years afterwards. Now he realizes how stupid that was. He supposes there had always been hints at his sexuality, from the time he was a little boy. He’s always been into wolves. Still, he’s never had a relationship: not a proper one, nothing outside of random hook-ups and make outs. Ivo has fucked a lot of people. If you called him a slut, he probably wouldn’t disagree.

“I’m going to tie you up.”

Ivo could change his mind anytime. He could opt out altogether by saying one short word. He never does. He lets Rio do whatever he wants, and there’s no reason why. He’s annoying and pushy. Ivo trusts absolutely no one except for him. After tying a short black rope around Ivo’s wrists, Rio touches his dick, holding the key to the cage in between two fingers. “Are you ready to cum now, whore?” Knowing him, it isn’t this easy. “I don’t know if I’ve kept you waiting long enough.” Begging is humiliating. Humiliation is arousing, and there’s no telling why. He hated Rio: his obnoxious laugh and aggravating attitude. He’s shouted at him multiple times in frustration, and he always comes back. Nobody ever comes back.

“Please.”

The living spaces are always loud. Everybody needs to be the center of attention. Rio unlocks the cage, but doesn’t remove it. “What do you want?”

Fuck him. He thinks he’s a god. He has rough hands and muscular arms. His hair is loose, tickling Ivo’s face. “You know what I want, asshole.” He squirms, feeling rope around his arms. It’s not too tight. He could slip his hands out if he tried.

“Do I?” The cage is made of plastic, and it’s a relief when it’s taken away. Rio is very close, touching Ivo lightly with his fingers, making him shiver. “I’m not sure I do. Tell me.” Rio always leaves him desperate for more. He’ll never say this out loud. He can’t stand the guy. If he suddenly went missing, Ivo might spend a brief moment or two wondering where he’d gone.

“Fuck you.”

At the beginning of their relationship, Rio told Ivo about being polyamorous, and what this entailed. He won’t date anyone else without Ivo’s consent, but he’s always open to meeting new people. Ivo doesn’t give a fuck what Rio does. Most of the time, he’d prefer it if he’d leave him alone altogether.

“You’re nothing but a cum dumpster, Flower.”

There’s no limits to the things Rio can call him. Ivo’s never been good for anything outside of fucking and sucking. When Rio says nice things to him, he always starts an argument. Rio gives good head, but rarely does it. He’s slow, and uses both halves of his split tongue to tease, making Ivo squirm and grumble. He isn’t usually vocal. When you’ve been pent up for weeks without release, it’s hard to control yourself. He’s not new to kink. Selling yourself on the streets teaches a person a few things.

He wriggles, pushing himself further into Rio’s mouth, rope digging into his wrists. He’s greedy, throwing his legs over the man’s shoulders, spilling into his mouth with a groan. He never groans. Rio never stops. He leaves Ivo horny for weeks, and then torments him. There’s a thunderstorm. Rio is unforgiving: forcing him to cum over and over again, until he twitches and writhes at the simplest of touches.

Ivo never speaks kindly, even when he says kind words, which isn’t often. Aspen used to ask why he was so serious all the time, or why he got so worked up over a joke or a prank. Jokes are often more than jokes. People will use your feelings to control you. If you don’t show emotion, nothing can be used against you.

He’s sticky, warm, tired, but unwilling to sleep. Rio is very close.

“He used drugs because of you, you know.”

Everyone knows Anika never gave a fuck about her siblings. When Ivo did something she was particularly displeased with, she’d act like a martyr. It was as if blaming Ivo for his father’s addiction made Anika feel better about being such a shitty mother. Maybe it didn’t matter. Shitty parents always think they’re perfect. When Anika was angry with him, she’d tell him he made his father miserable, expecting it to hurt his feelings. Nothing can hurt Ivo’s feelings. Nothing means anything until you let it. Nobody ever expects a teenager to stand up for themselves.

“All your children hate you, you know. Your husband is old, and you’ve pushed all your kids away, and you’re going to die alone.”

There was never a time in Ivo’s life where he didn’t have a comeback. It’s expected for an adult to say mean things to their children under the guise of tough love. It’s always disrespectful for a child to stand up for themselves.

“You really are pretty, you know that?”

Rio grumbles in his ear. Ivo hates aftercare.

“I’m going home.”

It’s beginning to get late. Aside from the fuzzy streetlights outside the school, everything is dark. Rio always follows him: aggravating, thinking everyone is obsessed with him. “Why do you get so upset when I compliment you?” He’s the reason it’s better to self-isolate. He’s a good fuck, sure, but there’s no other reason to hang around.

“Why are you so obsessed with me? You follow me everywhere I go, like a pathetic lost puppy desperate to be loved.” There’s not a lot of traffic at this time of night. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to see you anymore.” Nobody can tell when Ivo’s lying. Half the time, he can’t even tell, himself. He means nothing. He’s been called pretty before, and it never meant anything.

He always knows when a vehicle is coming. When the street is clear and nobody is approaching, he steps off the sidewalk - and it comes out of nowhere, and sends him flying.