Note: First of all, I’d like to thank for some very precious friends of mine, who have encouraged and helped me a lot in so many ways and taught me to believe in myself and my abilities. Thank you, my dears! I love you all!

Category: Dave/Mart – SLASH

Rate: R

An Aching To Be Free

- Bridgycat & Useless-girl -

Prologue

The bar was nearly full. Everyone was waiting for the next punk band’s appearance on the small stage. From the miscellaneous audience everyone had their places in the large room – the older regulars were sitting by tables rather along the sides of the room; the younger people were closer to the stage, enjoying the night to the full. This arrangement gave a good opportunity for the ones in the shadows to eye them. They were kinda displayed.

A 17-year old dark-haired young boy was sitting in an older man’s lap. His hair was shaved around his skull and was wearing sleazy clothes and a disapproving expression on his face. Even though he seemed very young and girlish, the older men around the table all adored him. He had that something which allowed him to play with them the way he liked. So in the background he was always the one pulling the strings. He had just to look at the man under him with those big greenish-black eyes and he already ordered him the next beer. The guy went nuts for those full pouting lips, this was clear. The thin boy took a long sip from his beer and nodded towards the stage where the supporting act was trying to do something which he would not have called music.

“Do you hear how lame they are? Horrible. I hope they’ll finish soon” he bent forward and propped his elbow on the table. “What’s their name again?” he looked back at the man behind him, avoiding the stiffed little moan that escaped his mouth when the pretty boy’s nice butt rubbed against his thighs.

“Composition of Sound, or something like that…” he shrugged after looking at the poster on the wall next to them and ran his hand along the boy’s back. “You don’t like their music?” he asked, trying to gain the boy’s attention back.

“They suck” the answer came on an arrogant tone and before going on he sipped from his beer “I’d do that waaaay better!”

“You want to become a musician, pretty boy?” one of the men asked.

He flashed a glimpse at him and a cheeky little smile appeared on his handsome face “Sure. Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll! I won’t stay in this godforsaken Basildon. No way! I’ll break out from this boring city one day” his smile turned into a smug grin and lit a cigarette with his long fingers.

“Where do you want to go?” the man behind him asked, avoiding the annoying music from the background.

“To the States, of course. I hate it here, I hate England. You’ll see, one day I’ll be famous.”

“Your young blood is talking from you… I like it” he said and put a hand onto the boy’s thigh.

“Nope. I have goals I will reach” he shook his head and turned towards the stage where the band had finally finished.

“I have my goals too” the older man leant forward a bit and whispered something into the boy’s ear, who laughed evilly.

“We’ll see… but just after the Fad Gadget show. Until that I could use another beer” he gave him a promising look then turned away to stub out his cigarette.

---

The familiar scent of leather surrounded him and tickled his nose. He liked its smell. It always turned him on. The young lads he was with were laughing out loud time after time, drawing his attention away from the music he tried to enjoy. He came for this, not to hear rude jokes – especially not those which were about him and his nature. He glimpsed at one of the guys, but it was a mistake, because he made eye-contact. He knew what’ll come now. He knew them, but remained silent.

“So, Blondie… tell me, how many new poems did you write for your Master?” the drunken jerk asked with a grin.

His partner under him was shaking from the suppressed laugh. The small blonde boy didn’t look at him, he knew that superior smile, which he probably had on his handsome face. He had no intentions to answer this stupid question. None of them would understand him anyway.

“Babe, give him an answer” he heard the calm cool tone, which sent a shiver down his spine.

“Eight more” he answered shortly and bent his head down.

“Uh-oh, are you ashamed of the task I gave to you?” his partner asked and dug his leather-covered fingers into the soft white flesh of the boy’s waist.

“No” he gasped.

“You really are a fragile little girl, aren’t you?” another young lad laughed as he eyed him in his punk-like, but still girlish outfit and make-up. The others had joined the laughter.

“Yeah, he’s my little bitch…” the guy noted giggling.

Despite himself the blonde boy felt the anger building up inside of him. If there was one thing that could piss him off it was when his art was being mocked. Because he considered his poems and lyrics art. And even though sometimes he thought that they weren’t perfect, he still felt this way.

“You know what?!” he broke out and jumped to his feet, surprising the other men in leather as his tone got biting “In a few years time I’ll thank to you” here he turned to his partner “that you wanted this from me, cuz this way I’ll be able to practice how to write such songs, which will be great hits and end up on the charts! And I will use them in the band I’ve just got in!” and with that he left them there, their jaws hanging open, but he could still hear their roaring laughter behind his back within a few moments. ‘No one will understand me…’ he thought with a bitter taste in his mouth and got closer to the stage, trying to forget what he’d left there behind, focusing on the music, which was like air for him. He’ll do it, no matter what. One day he’ll be proud of himself, he’ll fulfill his dream, even if the others thought that he was just a dreamer…

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