Ethan leans back in his seat, and he looks at Ripper where he sits on the windowsill, one leg hanging down, out of the flat. There’s a fag hanging from between his fingers, and every now and then he draws it to his mouth, his lips closing delicately around its butt so that he can take a drag. Ripper’s handsome. That much is true, and Ethan knows it - Ripper’s handsome, and the girls just hang off him whenever they go out.
Sometimes they hang off Ethan, as well, which Ethan is less enthused about, but it certainly is nice to Ripper deal with their attentions. Last night, he had a girl back here in the flat, had fucked her leisurely whilst carrying on a conversation with Ethan, and Ethan had feigned focus on his books, but he’d seen the glorious way Ripper’s arse and thighs had shifted as he’d fucked into the girl. The only downside had been the irritating noises the girl had made, whimpering and whining the whole time through, and forcing both Ethan and Ripper to raise their voices once or twice.
He’s just wearing his trousers, which cling tight to the curve of his arse and his thigh, and there’s a pendant Ethan forgets the name of around his neck - whatever it is, it had pissed Ripper’s dad off just to see it, and Ripper’s been wearing it since.
He’s a little skinny, Ripper is, and Ethan can see the lines of some of his upper ribs under his skin. Sliding from the sofa, Ethan takes a few loping steps forward, and he reaches out, tracing one or two of the more visible ribs, feeling them under the skin. Ripper turns to glance at him, raising his eyebrows.
“Can I help you, mate?” Ripper asks lowly, and Ethan shrugs.
“Looking a bit thin, that’s all,” Ethan murmurs, feeling the cool of Ripper’s skin. “What, can’t notice that a mate’s getting thin?”
“You’re a ponce, Ethan,” Ripper says, and Ethan leans back slightly, feeling himself swallow. Ripper’s gaze doesn’t shift from Ethan’s face, and he keeps his focus in place, even as he deliberately takes a drag of the cigarette, then blows the smoke right at him.
Ethan has to focus to keep from coughing, but he blinks a few times, staring at the other man and setting his jaw. “You want me to push you out of that window, Ripper?”
“Why? It gonna make you less of a fruit if you do?” Ethan scowls, and he makes to take a step back and away, but Ripper moves first: he slides from the sill and grabs Ethan by the throat, holding the half-smoked cigarette between his lips to leave his other hand free. “What? You think I didn’t know? You think I’m sitting here in a dunce cap while you stare at my arse?”
“Come on, Ripper,” Ethan mutters. “Let’s not ruin a friendship over thoughtless accusations.”
“Thoughtless, is it,” Ripper murmurs, and he brings his knee up between Ethan’s legs, shoving his thigh up against Ethan’s crotch and making him let out a grunt of noise. Ethan’s head hits against the back of the wall, and he gasps in a breath as Ripper slides his thigh up further, sliding against the length of Ethan’s cock through the fabric of his joggers and making it give a little twitch of interest. “We’ve been here two months, Ethan. We’ve known each other six. You think you’ve been playing straight?” Ripper speaks in a low, dangerous murmur, and he inhales the last drag of the cigarette, drawing it from his mouth and dropping it loosely into the crystal ashtray on the table.
Then he exhales again, and this time it hits Ethan right in the mouth, forces him to inhale the smoke with Ripper’s mouth right over his own, Ripper’s breath hot against Ethan’s lips. Ripper’s unpredictable, that much is true - he can be carelessly violent, is buff in a way that Ethan just isn’t, but this is new. He’s never heard Ripper show any problem with gay lads in town, never seen him so much as flinch when someone touches his arse or tries to flirt with him, but this–
“You’re a bloody ponce, Ethan,” Ripper says, and his lower lip brushes against Ethan’s, and Ethan feels a tremble that runs down the length of his spine, feels his prick jolt against Ripper’s thigh. “You’re a queer. And guess what?”
“What?” Ethan asks breathlessly. Fear isn’t even the word for what he’s feeling, isn’t even close - his every inch of skin is on fire, and his cock is hard, and yet he feels like Ripper might just eat him alive.
“I couldn’t give a monkey’s,” Ripper says, and he drags his mouth over Ethan’s own, kissing him in that hard, proprietary way Ethan’s seen him kiss a dozen girls, two dozen, half a hundred, even– And it’s so much better than Ethan could ever have imagined. Ripper’s tongue is hot and wet and dexterous, and Ethan can’t help the moan he lets out when Ripper kisses him deeply, making Ethan grind down against his too-skinny thigh. The hand around Ethan’s throat squeezes, and Ethan tries to heave in a breath but can’t quite make it come. Ripper drags his mouth away with a wet smack of lips, and he smirks at Ethan, his eyes dark as his grip loosens.
Ethan’s intake of breath makes him slightly dizzy, and his head lolls back against the wall as he stares at Ripper blearily, uncomprehendingly.
“What, Ripper?” Ethan asks. “Any port in a storm, is it?”
“Spoken like a lad who wants me to make port,” Ripper replies, and he cups Ethan through his tracksuit bottoms, squeezing his cock hard through the fabric and then pushing up, pressing his fingers between Ethan’s arse cheeks, behind his bollocks. “That what you dreamed of, is it? That I’d take pity on you, stupid little slag who doesn’t like girls but is too much of a wuss to go find a man, and fuck you myself?”
Ethan shoves Ripper in the side, and he twists them around so that he can trip him onto his back on the sofa: Ripper laughs, immediately putting his hands on Ethan’s hips, and Ethan stares down at him.
“I don’t want you to fuck me,” Ethan spits out.
“Oh, don’t worry, darling,” Ripper coos at him, voice faux-soft. “I’ll let you suck me off, first.” Ethan tries to punch him, but Ripper catches his fist and drags him down closer, savagely kissing him again, and this time, Ethan can’t help it. He grinds himself down against Ripper’s belly, kissing him back, and when he pulls away he drags his teeth over Ripper’s lower lip, splitting it open and making blood drip down his chin, leaving a coppery tang in Ethan’s mouth. Ripper lets out a sharp noise of pain, leaning back, and he stares at Ethan, fury showing in his eyes. “Are you fucking–”
“I’m not one of your stupid little skets, Ripper,” Ethan mutters. “I’ve got teeth.”
“Then I retract my offer to let you suck me off.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to suck you off.” Ripper smirks, even with the blood on his mouth, and he tips his head back.
“Get to it, then,” Ripper says, and Ethan shudders, feeling the heat on his skin.
“You fucking twat,” Ethan says, and he begins to unbutton Ripper’s leather trousers.