Title: "Abused"
Fandom: View Askewniverse
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob, pre-Clerks
Rating: I'd say NC-17 at this juncture.
Status: posted to the list 29 May 2005
Archive: The traditional places. If you don't know what the
traditional places are, you might want to write and ask. And here's how:
Feedback: kel@crazysheep.net
Series/Sequels: One-shot bitlet, fer as I know.
Disclaimers: Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions, Jason Mewes and
Scott Mosier have creative control and ownership of Jay and Silent
Bob, not me.
Notes: Bored and overheated and all alone in a very large house.
Don't you feel sorry for me? :) So I'm writing porn. (Oh dear me NO,
what will the children sa--oh, wait. There are no children.) Oh,
yes, and songfic. Might as well come back and be traditional about
it. (Then I lost net access, and came over to my aunt's house,
attended a party for a two-year-old, and am posting this after cake
and ice cream and presents are all open. So (my gods) there *were*
children. I feel like a huge perv. :)
Summary: Jay needs something from Bob, and Bob tries to figure out what.
Warnings: Definite underage activity. Ooh, I usually don't go there.
Boykissing, blowjob action, thigh humping, finger fucking - all the
good stuph. In other words, rampant homosexuality - where do you think
you are, Little House on the Prairie??


"Abused"
by Kelandris


*sweet dreams are made of these
who am I to disagree?*

He was pretty sure he was asleep, on the large, slightly sagging
mattress. He was almost sure of it; asleep, and tangled up in a
dove-grey blanket, and dreaming about how the solder was flowing oh,
so sweetly onto the circuit in slow motion. That moment just before
electrical current sparked across everything and made the air crackle
and hum with potential - at least, the next morning over coffee, that
was all of the dream he could recall. He remembered it so vividly
because he was brought out from sleeping to waking so suddenly, as if
reality had suddenly snapped the switch in his head. The switch he'd
never remembered installing. He was suddenly, in that moment, sitting
bolt upright and blinking.

There was a large wall of growling noise, just on the other side of
his door. It took him all of three seconds to shake the haze from his
head and recognize it as music. Recognize it as Manson. Recognize
it, specifically, as a cover of a song he actually owned the original
of, and how weird was *that*? Moreover, it was--he turned, peering
blearily at the blue LEDs on the bedside alarm--three o'clock in the
fucking morning, so this sort of logical progression should have
amazed him.

Instead, he just shook his dark hair out of his darker eyes and threw
the blanket back. He grabbed the nearest item of clothing--a pair of
black cut-offs from the floor--and pulled it on over his worn-thin
briefs, all while the other hand was fumbling around for the pack of
smokes beside the bed. Where the hell - where'd they gone to - ah.
There. Picked up the pack in one large hand, tapped one out, stuck it
via the paper to his lower lip and wandered out to the front room.
Might as well see what's going on, then.

Jay, of course, was going on, Bob saw, when he got there. Jay,
crouched in front of the stereo like a primitive man in front of fire,
hair dangling in front of his face, pounding on the floor. Fuck, but
the sound was up. They were gonna get complaints. On the other hand,
he knew where the remote was, and reached over to the back of the
leather couch, picking up the slim dark wand and clicking everything off.

*travel the world and the seven seas
everybody's looking for something*

The silence almost seemed like a bigger hammer blow than the sound had
been. He waited a precise four-count, then reached over to where his
leather coat was draped over the back of the couch--for once, not
properly hung up. **Thank God,** he thought, because that way he
could just slip a hand into the front pocket and pull out his lighter,
bright red even in the shadowed front room. He clicked it open, spun
the wheel for flame, and lit the cigarette, inhaling the smoke deep
into his lungs. Jay still hadn't turned around, but his shoulders
hunched in, just a little.

Bob's eyes narrowed, watching him. He cocked his head. He walked
over to the couch and sat down, exhaling in a long, fog-grey stream
over Jay's head, waiting. Finally, the words came.

"What the *fuck* you want, man? Don't know what the fuck you want.
Shit, you won't let me have my junk, you fuckin' make me get clean,
man, make me fuckin' - fuckin' - *sober up* - " And the sheer *loathing* he
filled those two words with would scar a lesser man than Bob, he had a
feeling. He only nodded when Jay sliced his eyes towards him, twin
headlight blue gleams, gone before he could really register them. Jay
shook his head, wrapping his arms around his thin chest and squeezing.

"Then *what*, man? What the fuck? What the fuck you *want*? Shit,
every other motherfucker I can figure out. You, you - take me away from
my dad, take me away from the fuckin' *street*, lemme run the fuck
*away* again - but you always come and find my ass - Shit, you worse than
*any* goddamn social worker, tubs, I gotta tell you."

Bob tried not to smile. He tried to hide it in another exhale of
smoke. Jay saw it anyway.

"Don't you fuckin' laugh at me, I'll cut your face off."

Bob looked down, grinning harder. But when he looked up, his face was
serious, and his voice was soft.

"Wasn't," he said quietly.

Jay stared at him, hard, like he somehow had more answers than he knew
about, and he just tried to ride out the look, feed him the right
expression back. Whatever the hell that was. The blond finally
sighed again, looking down, and Bob had a better chance to look at
him, given a few minutes for his eyes to adjust.

Sixteen now, the boy was. *Painfully* thin, just heartbreakingly
thin. Never gave his body enough time to slow down and absorb all the
calories he never gave it anyway. Bob tried to feed him, but - it was
like telling a bird he needed to swim more, telling Jay to slow down
and eat. Shit.

His hair was starting to look better, though. Longer, now. It'd
started out long, just past shoulder-length, but these past three
years Bob'd been encouraging him to grow it out, even brushed it for
him. He'd grown up with enough sisters with long hair, and all the
problems that go with it, he knew how to take care of it, how to make
sure it didn't tangle at night, what conditioners to use. Weirder,
Jay let him, and it seemed to give him an odd sort of pride now--Jay
and his rock-star mane.

All the bruises were gone now, along his chest, along his ribs. He
still had them on his face from time to time, on his hands, but that
was from *him* picking fights with gangbangers in the mall, not from
fighting off his dad, or fighting off some client who wanted more than
he wanted to give. Bob'd put a stop to that, too.

Jay glared at him again, shaking his head.

"What?"

"No, fucktard, thass *my* question. *What?* What the fuck you want?
We s'pos'ta set up some good little home for stray boys or some shit?
You do this a lot?"

Bob just shook his head and Jay was suddenly up and pacing.

"'Cause I can't, I can't, I can't do it, man, I can't - I can't be clean
*and* straight *and* have all this motherfuckin' time to *think* about
all this shit, okay? I ain't in rehab, I don't get the court-ordered
thera-fucking-pist, I don't have anythin' el--"

"You want therapy?" Bob asked, surprised into more words.

"You *stupid* or somethin'?" Jay stalked over to where he sat and he
stood, surprised into motion. They stared at one another, Bob's eyes
wide, Jay glaring, hands curled into fists at his side. The moment
stretched, and Bob realized he was waiting again.

*some of them want to use you
some of them want to get used by you*

Jay growled finally, and pushed him, and he was so surprised, he fell
back, landing heavily on the couch. Jay didn't give him any space to
recover, either, straddling him and pressing him back into the couch
cushions.

"I wanna know what you *want*, dumbass. What you want me to *do*. Or
is that too many syllables or somethin'?"

Bob just blinked. **What I want him to--what??**

Jay's eyes turned hard, then, and one side of his mouth quirked, and
suddenly, his hands were in Bob's hair.

"I mean," he said softly, "'s gotta be somethin', right? Always
fuckin' something. An' I'm better at fuckin' than anythin' else. An'
you ain't half bad for pretty. Whaddya say, tubs? You wanna drive me
round the--"

**No!**

Bob pushed him back, pulling his hands out of his hair, and Jay just
sat there, hands curled in his lap. Trembling. Bob shivered, looking
at him.

"I--I ain't--I can't--Bobby--"

And Bob closed his eyes, sighing.

**Welcome to the Dark Side, Luke.**

"Okay," he said, his voice just breath on the still air, barely
audible. Caught Jay's attention anyway. Quick flash of blue-green
eyes, glistening with unshed tears, and then Bob closed his eyes
again. Reached for the boy. Ran one spatulate thumb along the barely
stubbled jaw and pulled him forward, pulled him forward, meeting his
lips for the first time.

Never kissed a guy before. Never wanted to. Never kissed a friend
before. Wanted to do that, *lots* of times. Never saved a life
before. Didn't know what else he could do. And then Jay's tongue was
touching the bow of his lips and he thought, maybe he was overthinking
this.

And then Jay groaned, like he was in pain, and shimmied closer. Maybe
he was, because *nobody* should feel that fucking hard just from one
little kiss. Worse, Bob reacted to that like he hadn't reacted to the
kiss, or the feel of Jay's hair in his hands, or the sheer pain he'd
wanted to ease in the first place.

"Fuck. Fuck. You gots too many clothes on, tubs, *way* too fucking
many--"

Figured. First time they part for air, Jay's gotta fill it with
words. And, shit, all he had on was the cut-offs, what the fuck did
he want? Bob just shook his head.

**Shut up. Jesus.**

He tugged down the neck of Jay's t-shirt, not bothering with
undressing him just yet, and licked along the boy's exposed
collarbone, and Jay just *whimpered*, thrusting against him.

*Fuck, man, *fuck*, don't fuckin' *tease*--"

Tease? He was *teasing*? He was--

He blinked. He pulled back. Shit, he was. He grinned at Jay.

**So what are you waiting for?**

Jay growled, tackling him, pulling at his nipples, biting his neck,
and Bob arched off the couch, nearly screaming.

"You like that, huh? You like that? You like that, tubs, you--"

Bob shut him up by grabbing his hair, fisting it tightly, pulling his
head back to expose his throat.

"Oh - *fuck* - " Jay whimpered, shivering all over. He grinned again,
biting down every inch of that lovely exposed column and moving down
the thin chest, trailing wet kisses over cool skin until he reached
Jay's hard little nipples, and he worked diligently to make them
harder. Caught Jay's hand when it dove for his pants. Caught Jay's
other hand when it dove for Bob's pants.

"Motherfucker, you better let me go, or I'll--"

"You'll what?" Bob said. His voice was low, dark, barely sounded like
his, and they both shivered. It was another reason he didn't talk--he
never knew when *that voice* was going to come out of his mouth.
*That voice* had gotten him a girlfriend in Leonardo once, had gotten
him free drinks in a bar in Highlands for four months solid, and had
gotten him arrested one memorable night all the way in Altoona. He
was kind of afraid of *that voice*. But Jay, now - Jay seemed to like it.

"Fuck me, who the fuck--"

**Good idea.**

And he dragged Jay off the couch, towards his room. Least he had lube
there. Hells, if he was gonna go through with this, abuse of a minor
and all that, they might as well have lube. In for a penny and all that.

*some of them want to abuse you
some of them want to be abused*

He practically threw Jay on the bed and stripped, and Jay quickly got
the hint, throwing clothes around his room with abandon. He watched
Jay's underwear sail behind his computer with resignation, knowing
he'd be prodded into fetching it later on, but shrugged. Minor
problem. Back to the problem at hand, which was now sprawled on his
bed, all bone angles and too-pale skin over wiry muscle, slowly
stroking himself and breathing in and out.

Shit. This was the definition of 'wet dream' in some countries. He
shook his head, but stepped forward, light from the open blinds
striping his body, and Jay yelped, skittering back on the bed.

What the fuck was it now? He looked the question at him, standing
there, being as calm as he could. He kind of figured it wasn't his
size--boy *had* to know he was big, he'd made enough goddamn
references to his belly, his butt, his thighs over the past three
years--so him naked shouldn't be too much of a surprise. So what could--

"Holy shit, dude," Jay breathed. "You're - motherfuckin' - *huge*."

Bob blinked. Oh. *Oh.* *That* kind of size. He looked down, and
the Monster was still growing, twitching a big, purple at the head.
He bit his lip. He looked back up.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, maybe - " Jay blinked, looking up at him, serious expression in
the eyes warring with the grin below. "Maybe you better let me drive."

Shit. From 'never kissed a guy before' to 'taking it up the ass' in
one night, could he *make* that leap? Even for Jay. Shit. He
thought about it, breathing hard. He still moved to the bed, sitting
down on the edge, thinking. Jay turned, laying his hands along Bob's
shoulders.

"Don' worry, baby, I c'n make it good for ya," he whispered. What--?

Pushing him back, Jay leaned down, trailing a fingertip down his
length, looking at his cock. "Mm." Bubble of pre-come formed at the
tip and he leaned forward, licking it off, and Bob gasped, twitching.

"I ain't done this in a while. I could be all outta practice and
shit." But the laughter was still in the eyes, so Bob just shrugged.

**Hey, do what you want. Not like I'm on any moral high ground here.**

Jay grinned, and licked him once, head to base, and then swallowed the
head, sucking for a moment. *Fuck*, yes - hot and wet and all good
things, *fuck*, it'd been a while, and - fuck, Jay was stopping, what
the fuck now--?

Jay spit into his hand, and wrapped it around the base, pumping him,
and then pushed up on his elbows.

"Here we go," he said doubtfully, but he was still grinning. "You
with me, baby?"

Bob just nodded, jerkily, panting. Just the image of Jay, holding his
cock, mouth slightly reddened from stretching around him, blond hair
trailing over his thighs - shit, he had this feeling he'd be jerking off
to that for the next *year*, minimum.

Jay swallowed him again, working from the head down, taking him in
half-inch by slow half-inch. Bob threw his head back, trying to be
cool, trying to last, trying to--*fuck*, Jay's tongue was dancing
across *all* the right places, and how the *fuck* had he learned to do
that? And *when* the fuck had he learned to do that? Shit, the boy
was *sixteen*. *Sixteen*. Not that old. And--and--fuck, his mouth,
fuck, so fucking *good*--

Had five inches of him now, about halfway, bobbing up and down. Fuck.
*Such* delicious suction, and oh, fucking God, the *sounds* along
with the wet heat. *Fuck*. Jay's hand still pumping him at the base,
moving up and down, slicked by more than spit - and he was gonna come if
he didn't stop thinking about what the fuck Jay was *doing* right now - 

Quadratic equations. Linear principles of relationships. Algebraic
calculations.

**Fuck he's sucking on one of his fingers, too--**

Dead puppies. Nuns. His sister in a nun suit--no, that didn't help,
his sister was kinda cute--

**HOLY FUCK!**

Bob arched off the bed and Jay used his free hand to push his legs
open wider, worming the spit-slick finger in tighter circles around
his hole.

"This'd be better with lube," Jay said.

"Side--drawer--" Bob said, voice strangled. Shit, he was gonna--Jay
was gonna--he was gonna *let* Jay--and fuck, it was gonna feel like
*that*--

He was so fucked here.

Jay was suddenly gone, mouth, finger, hand, everything, and Bob just
lay where he'd landed, felt like. Shit. He heard the scrabble next
to the bedside table, and then the drawer sliding out, and then Jay
giggling.

"Hell, yeah, man comes *prepared*," Jay crowed. Foil packet crinkle
and flip-top bottle opening, and Jay was back, smoothing a hot
pink--*hot pink?* Shit, he thought he'd gotten rid of the last of
those--condom down his cock, and pouring a dollop of lube into his
palm, slicking the latex. Bob just watched him, mouth slightly slack.

Jay moved in, holding his cock, pushing against the hole. Not
*in*--he was braced for that, but it didn't happen. Just--*against*,
against him, in these little twisting circles, and his eyes crossed.
Jay laughed when he saw that, pulling back, and slipped one lubed
finger inside him again.

"Shit, boy, you *so* tight - you ain't never done this before, huh?"

Bob just shook his head. Jay suddenly looked sad.

"Aw, man - do you--you're just - doin' this for me?"

Bob looked down. Shit. This would be a *perfect* time for a good
speech, and he had *no* idea what to say. 'Yes' was part of the
answer, 'No' equally relevant, and neither was appropriate, and he
couldn't just say, 'It's complicated,' because that would sound like
bullshit to Jay. Sounded like bullshit to Bob, too. And besides--

"Yo. Jay to brain. Wake up."

**Huh?**

Two fingers now, turning and twisting, and Bob arched off the bed
again, crying out.

"Thass better. I gots your attention back *now*, bitch!"

*Fuck*, yes, he did. *Fuck*. That felt so--oh--*oh*--*another*
finger? Oh, and--and--*another*?

**FUCK!**

"Mm. Fuckin' hate this part. Just wanna be *in* there, man, *inside*
you already, makin' you happy, makin' you feel good - but, shit, you new
at this, you won't be happy I just shove the fuck on in. Won't be
happy at *all*." Jay scooted up, thrusting against Bob's thigh, slick
slide against sweat.

"An' Bob, I want you happy 'bout this. If you ain't doin' this 'cause
you want to, then I want it so good you gonna come back for more
*anyway*. Yeah?"

Bob blinked. He shrugged. He raised a hand to Jay's face again,
stroking down the cheek.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Thass my boy," Jay said, and he was pulling his hand out, and
kneeling up, and holding his cock and pushing forward, pushing
forward. Now all Bob felt was pressure, pressure and heat and it
hurt, it hurt even with everything Jay'd done. Jay kept pressing
forward, kept moving, and it still hurt. Bob grimaced, throwing his
head back, and Jay stopped.

"Yeah. Yeah. Ev'body hurts the first time. Breathe, man. Makes it
easier."

He did. He breathed, in and out. Jay's other hand was on his
sternum, feeling it rise and fall.

"You tell me when it stops hurting."

Jay nudged forward a little, still listening to him breathe. He
lifted Bob's legs apart a bit, looking down. Bob knew he was looking
at his own cock, disappearing into Bob's body, and that gave him a
little thrill himself. Jay nudged forward a little more, and it was
like something in Bob snapped tight around him; unthinking, he
clenched tight, and Jay's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Oh - *fuck* - dude - so fucking *tight*, man - So - fucking - oh - "

Jay's hands, both free now, slid up Bob's thighs to his calves, from
his calves to his ankles, and gripped them tightly. He looked down,
his expression intent.

"*Fuck*, dude, tell me. Tell me it don't hurt no more."

Bob thought about it. Breathed out. Pressure still, yeah, terrible
pressure, but - no. Ache, ache of something, but - not the *pain* of earlier.

He shook his head.

"Fuck. Thank fuck for that." Jay grabbed the lube again, squirted
more down the length of his cock, and *fucked* it into Bob, there was
no other word for it. Hard, jabbing thrusts, and Bob felt like he was
coming apart in sections. All sensation was focused on two areas--his
ass and his ankles, because those were the two places Jay was touching
him. Shit, and it was starting to feel good, this burning golden
glowing thrill, and Jay was going deeper, and grazing across something
that sheeted silver across his vision, making his insides curl and
knot in really, really good ways. He arched, he writhed underneath
Jay, he reached for his shoulders, gripping him tightly, moaning his
name, moaning imprecations, hells, chanting in Latin for all he could
remember later.

And Jay sped up now, fucking him harder, moaning his name in return,
telling him how good he was, how fine, how hot this was, how tight he
still was, and how he'd fuck *anyone* up who dared touch him again.

"'Cause this ass, boy, this *my* ass now," Jay said, thrusting hard,
balls slapping against him. "*My* fuckin' ass, man. Own your ass.
Fuck yeah. Too good to let go. Too fucking good. Too fucking good
at this, *fuck*, why'n't you ever tell me, oh, my fuckin' *God* - "

**Didn't know. Did not know. Did not fucking know--**

"Fuck, yeah, fuck, gonna--gonna make me come, Bob, gonna make me
*come* in you, gonna--ah--*fuck*--baby--"

Rhythm interrupted, hard driving thrusts jittered to a halt, Jay's
storm-tossed eyes flew up to the ceiling and his mouth dropped open.

"FUCK! YES! FUCK!" he screamed, and Bob felt more warm pressure,
something he'd only ever known from the other side, a condom filling
up with come. Oh, fuck, Jay, fuck, Jay, and he was so close, *so*
close, *so* damn close--

Jay pulled out, knotting the condom with a practiced pull and jerk
that again amazed Bob, throwing it aside in the wastebin. Bob
couldn't take any more, both hands reaching down, finding his cock,
feeling so sensitive, it wouldn't take much to make him come now. A
look from Jay, a glitter of starshine down the hair, hells, just
clenching the muscles in his sore *ass* nearly did it--

And Jay turned around, shaking his head.

"Fuck, I ain't leavin' you hangin', Bobby," he whispered, and bent
down, licking the head of his cock every time Bob's fisted hands
allowed him. And that image brought him, screaming over the edge,
jetting over Jay's face, Jay laughing instead of being offended, and
fuck if that didn't make him want to do it all over again.

"Lemme get a towel," Jay said, climbing off the bed.

**Yeah. You go do that.**

Well, shit. If this was abuse, then he'd happily abuse the boy as
long as Jay'd let him. With any luck, they wouldn't get caught.

*some of them want to abuse you
some of them want to be abused*

END
(Snip of song is from Marilyn Manson's cover of the Eurythmic's "Sweet
Dreams")
*****************
Kelandris the Mad
I wanna know what's inside you