Wild Boys: An Apocalyptic MM Romance Read online

  WILD BOYS

  C. Margery Kempe

  ©2017 C. Margery Kempe

  This novella originally appeared as part of Come Undone: Romance Inspired by Duran Duran, Irksome Rebel, 2015.

  i

  Digger looked up at the August moon through the metallic grate. He knew it was August, because it was forty-five days since the world had changed. He had kept the days religiously since The Collapse just because he was already in the habit of writing things down in his journal. Not a diary! Girls kept diaries, but he had seen the explorer, Captain Scott’s own journal at the museum, and it was impressive. His dad said there was none braver than Scott and his men in the Antarctic. People only knew about them because of his journal of the adventure.

  Not that Digger expected to be any kind of hero himself, but it was true these were extraordinary days. Wouldn’t the end of the world be worth remembering? If not the actual end of the world, it seemed to be the end of something anyway as far as they could tell from this lockup. There wasn’t anybody but Digger to record this adventure. It might be that nobody would ever read his journal. He tried not to think about that, about how they were all trapped here. It opened up a black hole of thought that spiraled down into darkness and made him lose hope.

  Nevertheless, he kept up the habit, if only to give him something to do on the lonely nights when he curled up on his bunk waiting for sleep. It was like having a friend in a way. Like having someone here in this prison to whom he could speak his secrets without fear of betrayal. One of the things he’d learned on the inside: don’t spill your guts. Don’t let anyone know what you were thinking. Being different made you look weak to the guards and to the other lads. Square pegs got smashed down to fit in.

  But in these pages, he could be free.

  After the Collapse he’d gone around the lockup scrounging as many pens and pencils as he could find to stockpile. Some had been left in the guard’s desks, where they filled out forms only when they had to. Most of the ones he found had been discarded by the other boys who had no use for them. Only Glen had any substantial number. He was eagerly bookish and they had struck up a kind of nodding acquaintance on that. It wasn’t much and he couldn’t say they were really friends, but Digger thought it a win to have one person who definitely wasn’t hostile toward him. In here, it mattered more than he would have thought.

  Digger sniffed the night air. Through the metallic slats of the exhaust vent the moon looked tantalizing enough. People used to think it was made of cheese his dad had said. Digger supposed the cratered surface was near enough to some kinds of cheese, at least the kind he remembered from books as a kid. The cheese he ate mostly came between slices of plastic. The thought of gooey melty cheese on toast made him lick his lips, but he shoved the thought away. No need to torture himself after all. Since the first few days after The Collapse there was no cheese to be found and they had to learn to do without it.

  Besides, he had a better reason to be up here than food. His belly wasn’t the real hunger. Digger was the only one of them small enough to wriggle through the air vents with ease. Mostly, he cursed himself for being so small for his age, but he liked to come up to this spot here when he knew Joey was coming along.

  Joey was the dream.

  He looked down through the other vent into the communal shower room. This spot was one of the best locations he had found in his explorations that had both air from the outside and a view to the inside. Not that long ago, the room had always been filled with laughter and catcalls and steam and glorious sprays of hot water that they all refused to admit to missing. Not that a boy didn’t mind getting a stink on. Too much washing seemed stupid and conventional. The guards made them shower in the morning and in the evening every single day before. They all hated it then. They were rebels now, so no one washed at all. It was a badge of honor.

  Nonetheless he dreamed daily of the pounding pleasure of a steamy shower—or even now and then of a hot bath with bubbles—at least when he wasn’t dreaming of Joey. Sometimes he dreamed of showers with Joey. Those were the best dreams. Digger put his eye up to the grate that looked down into the showers because he could hear voices now.

  Joey walked into the shower room with the cocky step he had, dragging that weasel DD along with him. That one wasn’t too eager. Joey looked bored, but Digger knew better. He had made a study of the guy since he had been thrown inside. His gaze caressed Joey’s tall golden form even though he knew every bit of him like a prayer book. Despite the lack of bathing, he remained a golden god. His ragged blond hair was chopped into a sort of shaggy animal shape that framed his startlingly blue eyes with a furry charm. He had a small sort of beard, not like a wild man, more like a soft fur. At least Digger imagined it would be fairly soft. He didn’t have more than a few whiskers himself. Like everything else about him, they were running behind schedule too.

  Some of the boys made fun of Joey’s plump lips when he first arrived, but his fists soon put an end to that. He was fit, not in a muscle-bound kind of way like Johnny, his brother. Digger wasn’t sure if they were real brothers or gang brothers, but there was some tight link between them, though it was a fractious one, too. But jar-headed Johnny was nothing like his brother. Joey was more like a professional athlete, a footballer or tennis player. He moved with a sort of grace and style. Not like a luvvie, but like a musketeer or something. His words were the real power: without sounding fake or flowery he could hold the room together.

  His brother Johnny looked and acted like a rugby player: thick-necked, bulging thighs and eternally aggressive. He intimidated everyone because he seemed far more dangerous than anyone else. He was unpredictable apart from knowing violence was always imminent. The two together had a kind of magic, something that came from the muscles and words together. After The Collapse, they kept the survivors in check and calmed them once the initial panic and confusion had passed.

  Natural leaders they were.

  Nerves had been raw as the rumors rippled through the reformatory in the last few days before it all happened. No one believed it could really be true: the end of the world? That was just a punch line, right? They didn’t get any real news, but the speculations had been all through the lockup from guards and new arrivals. Things were getting bad out there—and soon it was going to be inside, too. Then came the day where they all saw the smoke from the fire on the younger side of the lockup, and watched the guards slam the doors shut behind them as they ran off to fight the flames.

  They never came back.

  The eighteens were left on their own. Ironic, don’t you think? All the guys who were ready for release or transfer because of their age ended up trapped in the system when it broke down.

  Maybe the guards were all dead. Maybe they just left. A lot they cared about the kids on the inside. Everything was so quiet. They didn’t have any way of getting information, not even so much as a radio. The phone system went down the day of the fire. Without any other alternative, the boys eventually got used to the new way of life and most of them never thought any further about it. As far as anyone could tell, they were the only ones alive in the lockup, so they just made the best of it—for as long as it lasted.

  Joey was the very best of it as far as Digger was concerned, even if Joey never even noticed Digger was alive. He lived in Digger’s journal, in his drawings, in his imagination. If they were all going to die in here, at least he had that pleasure. The only direct pleasure Digger had was to get his kicks by watching from this hiding place like a perv. But it would do for now, he thought, his gaze glued to the vent.

  Joey gestured for DD to kneel down on the tiles and said something Digger couldn't quite catch even though
it echoed around the tiles. It didn’t matter, he knew what was coming. He’d seen the scenario before many times. DD whined a little, but dutifully reached up to unbutton Joey’s trousers. Digger knew he would. That guy would do anything to get access to the stash that Joey maintained. The boys all traded different kinds of things, whatever they had in abundance, whatever anybody else wanted. Joey had the last of the drugs and DD had a bad habit. It was just a transaction. One DD had probably performed plenty of times on the outside, too.

  Digger would have been glad to do it for nothing. If he had anything to offer, he would have paid for the chance. The best he could do was steal this moment in secret. He unzipped himself quietly, trusting the sound would not carry down below. Doubtless the grid on the vent would leave marks on his face as he leaned against it. He didn’t care. The sight mesmerized him as DD slipped Joey’s trousers down his strong hairy thighs, leaving that too-white arse tensed before his gaze. He fervently wished himself in DD’s place, on his knees before his dream.

  DD closed his eyes and took Joey’s cock in his mouth. He wasn’t even hard yet. Digger thought about how he’d want to rouse him first, tease his cock with his tongue a little and fondle his balls. He’d want to bite those white cheeks, too. His own cock already curved tautly in his hand as he stroked it slowly, imagining himself in DD’s role, on his knees on the hard white tiles. He’d show his hunger.

  Joey wouldn’t look impassive and bored if he were working that pole. DD just bobbed back and forth mechanically, not even thinking about Joey’s reactions, which were slower than they might be. Who could look at DD and feel all sexy anyway? He was a mass of spots and his hair badly cut in that straight-across-the-eyes buzz. His pale flesh looked snake-like in the moonlight. Digger imagined it would feel as cold as damp metal. He shuddered a little.

  Joey leaned back with a slight groan. Digger let his gaze rove over the golden cream of his limbs. Even in their enclosed little world, he made sure to get some sunlight, going up to the roof lookout often enough to keep away the basement-dweller sheen of fungus-like white. It cast a pall on them all. Even Glen whose tawny skin gleamed like the polished surface of the guvnor’s wooden desk when he first arrived had changed. His dark arms were interlaced by even blacker tattoos like some mad graffiti, though now his flesh had greyed steadily as the days went by. They were probably all needing vitamin D.

  Joey’s own hands roamed across his chest as if he would have welcomed an embrace from someone more worthy. At least Digger wanted to imagine that’s what he was thinking. He brought his own hand up to his narrow chest, trying to imagine Joey’s warm hand, while the other worked away at his stiff cock. Below him DD was moving too fast and Joey reached down with one hand to grab his hair and slow the movements a little. Clearly, DD was impatient to get it over with, but Joey wanted to prolong the sensation. Digger tried to imagine kissing those lips and looking into his blue eyes. He stuck out his tongue and let the tip touch his own top lip, visualizing Joey doing it. Would he be sweet when he kissed you? He was mostly rough with DD, but then you would be, wouldn’t you?

  Digger pinched his own nipple with one hand and let his thumb rotate around the tip of his mushroom head. His thoughts stayed below. The sway of Joey’s body as he pumped into DD’s mouth mesmerized him. What would it be like to have Joey go down on him? How deep would he take him? Would he enjoy making him crazy with desire? The image gave him a jolt that was almost electric. He let go of his cock, afraid the thoughts would betray him too soon. He didn’t want to come before Joey did.

  It looked as if Joey were not quite ready yet, but he was getting impatient with his partner’s lackluster performance. He lifted DD up by his hair and the sulky boy whined in vain. Joey turned him around so DD had to throw out his hands against the dull white shower tiles.

  “Ah, come on, Joey. I wasn’t ready for that,” DD complained as Joey grabbed hold of his track suit bottoms and pulled them down without waiting. His voice echoed around the room, making it seem even larger.

  “You too sore from Sid’s abusing you?” Joey asked with a laugh. Digger loved the sound of his voice. It didn’t have any of the rough edges of his own northern accent. Plus, it was melodious like those announcers on the radio that always sounded like they never said a wrong thing in their lives or got upset about anything. Posh, he guessed. Digger had never wanted anything posh in his life before Joey came along.

  “You could have at least brought some butter or something,” DD muttered, but didn’t move away from his position on the wall. He was probably thinking about the drugs. It was all he ever thought about.

  “You want to waste precious food resources on this?” Joey said, spitting on his fingers to smear on DD’s crack. “Better to use renewable resources, as the board would recommend.” He laughed again then took his cock in hand and guided it to DD’s puckered hole.

  Digger licked his lips again, wishing it were him leaning there. He wouldn’t grumble. He dreamed most nights of Joey stuffing his cock inside him, feeling the power of his desire pierce him deep. His breath came more raggedly now as his fist pumped up and down his shaft in sync with his hero as Joey pounded DD’s arse. He tried to time it exactly. He knew Joey’s actions so well by now that it was a piece of cake. He was slowing now which meant that it was really close. Then, as Digger expected, sped up just as suddenly. Joey began to shake and then roar with pleasure. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

  Digger allowed himself a little gasp and no more as he came in his hidden spot. His whole body shook and as always he was terrified that creaks or echoes might give away his location, but they had never noticed so far. Joey’s shouts usually masked any noise he made. He’d already come once that afternoon thinking of Joey, so at least there wasn’t much spunk to shoot. Not like Joey, who pulled out of DD leaving a long string of come that he twirled around with a laugh before whacking his still hard cock on DD’s hind cheek. “Better than you deserve!”

  “Can I have my stuff now?” DD turned around with his hand out. Despite his complaints about Joey, his cock was stiff now too, which made Joey laugh. DD frowned. “What?”

  “I’m surprised you can still get it up with all the drugs you do.” He tossed him a little plastic bag.

  “That’s all?”

  “Rationing. Scarcity affects us all, DD.” Joey pulled his trousers up and fastened them.

  DD pocketed the bag and absently fondled his hard-on. “You wanna make me come?”

  Joey smiled briefly but it didn’t look friendly at all. “I got better things to do. See ya, DD.” He turned and walked away, back down the hall to the bunks where everybody else was always hanging around.

  DD leaned against the wall and chafed his cock with the same roughness he’d given Joey. He just didn’t have a gentle bone in his body, Digger thought. His thin frame made a sharp contrast to his thick penis. DD closed his eyes and sped up his hand until he came without a sound, shooting a rope of come onto the shower tiles. Then he pulled up his track suit and took the bag out of his pocket, eyeing his hard-won treasure again.

  Digger lay in the air vent, fingers caressing his softening cock. He wondered what it would be like to lie in Joey’s arms after they made love and talk about the world and the night and all the things that used to be. It was all he thought about.

  He was lonely. He missed his dad. He wished he’d not ended up in this misbegotten place. Digger wondered though if it would have mattered where he was when The Collapse happened. Things were lousy all over. Maybe things were even worse on the outside. Everybody might even be dead. Some of the boys believed that anyway. At least, here he had the chance to see Joey and pretend that he could be with him.

  That had to count for something, right?

  ii

  The next morning at the meal in the refectory, Digger could sense something new in the air. It was clear the feeling came from Johnny and Joey, who sat at the same table they always had sat at back in the day. In fact they had all been at a meal when The Collapse t
ook place, though at the time they didn’t know that’s what it was. All the lads had ended up in this joint for similar reasons: fighting, stealing, drugs, petty crimes and a few more serious charges. ArachNed claimed that Sid had killed a man, but it was hard to tell what was just hearsay and what was truth. They were on the edge of adulthood but just hanging on by their nails and completely lost—like the song said, 18 and they didn’t know what they wanted.

  Being the 18s had saved them that day.

  The first news of The Collapse had come via Mr. Bill. He was the twitchiest of the guards. He’d spread most of the rumors that they’d all heard in advance of the day, but no one really believed him. Digger had been hearing about the world going to hell in a handbasket since he could remember, though he never had the slightest idea what a handbasket even was. The guards wanted to make the boys feel bad for being inside, always telling them that their mums or dads or grans or whatnot were pining away for them, crying themselves to sleep at night.

  Digger was unmoved by the violins they tried to play. He had no one on the outside. His dad was the last bit of family and he was dead. Digger was only in here because they shifted him out of school since he didn’t qualify for staying on and he lost his free meal every day. All he had done was boosted some bread and cheese from a shop and got caught. He was sent here because some local politician made it her pet project to help troubled boys “become men”—and as everyone knew, nothing made you an adult like locking you up in prison.

  But he wasn’t bitter about it. Surely it was no worse than the dead end jobs he saw others take and maybe no more a prison than that. People seemed to be born, go to school, take jobs they hated, drink themselves to death once they had managed to produce terrible children who would start the whole process over again. Oh sure, some people didn’t live like that—pop stars, film stars, footballers and politicians. But they were all born to it. No one like him had any kind of chance. His lot would have been no better on the outside. Nobody was really free.