Sykeskarth: a Guide For Dummies

Anchors

A/N: This is two-and-a-bit chapters written by x_cheapnovelty on LiveJournal... I only took the 2 chapter because later on Sykescest is included and we don't want any of that here :) BUT SMUT WARNING. There is more of this pic and I might to a part two and use what sykeskarth part the author wrote and totally discard the sykescest... 

It's too cluttered. It's too fucking cluttered and Oliver can't stand the clutter anymore. He cleans everything off his desk in one swipe and shit is just clattering to the floor. Just stuff. So much fucking stuff. Headphones, a straightener, Sharpies, eyeliner and a fucking cactus all fall to the ground but nothing had been achieved except making more of a mess than was there originally. Oliver yells "FUCK" really fucking loudly and rips his quilt off the bed. The quilt meets the same fate as the cactus.

"Oliver, what in Merlin's name are you fuckin' doin' in 'ere?" Tom asks, entering the room without knocking. This pisses Oliver right off so he chucks a pillow at Tom's head.

"It's too fucking clut'ered!" Oli yells, kicking a water bottle at the wall, and is quite satisfied that a solid thunk resounds as it hits the wall.

"It's cluttered?" Tom asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Cluttered!" Oli yells again, this time almost ripping his hair out. Tom walks up to Oli and pins his hands to his sides.

"Get a fuckin' grip and go for a fucking stroll in the park or some shit."

"I hate it 'ere." There it is; Oli finally said it. What's been bothering him for weeks: he fucking hates America. It's too bright, too hot and the accent ticks him right off. He misses English humour, English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh accents and he misses pubs. He misses the lower drinking age and the crooked streets. He's just homesick, fullstop.

"Wha'?"

"I... I really jus' fuckin' hate... America."

"I though' you liked it."

"I did at first... bu' now it's just... too American. You know?"

Tom just looks at Oli. "Gee, you think it's too American 'ere do ya?"

"Shove off, Tom you tosser."

"Get over yourself, Oliver you fuckin' emo," Tom says and walks out of the room, slamming the door. Oli can hear him slam his own door as well. Right then, Oli thinks to himself before grabbing his phone, wallet and keys and slamming out of the house, walking the familiar path to the house of the only other person here who understands him (that he isn't related to). Alexander.

Oli reaches Alex's doorstep and knocks, hoping he answers, because fuck, if he has to force being polite to a parent... shit will go down. Thankfully, as Oli was thinking this thought, Alexander opened the door and Oli broke into a grin. "Oliver you big berk, what you doin'?" Alex greeted him and a warm sense of familiarity washed over Oli as Alex spoke in his lovely, fantastic British accent.

"Had to get out of the 'ouse, y'know?"

"Oh I know," he answered, reverting back to his usual American twang, to Oli's disappointment. "Come in, I wasn't doing anything either."

"Fuckin' Saturday afternoon and neiver of us has anythin' to fuckin' do tonight." Oli says, entering the cosy home.

"D'you just wanna get fucked tonight, you an' me?" Alex asks, English again.

"Boy do I," Oli answers, clapping Alex on the back.

***

It's dark. Oliver's drunk. Alexander's drunk. And Oliver is not in a good mood all of a sudden. It was as though his happy mood had gone out with the light. Alexander, however, is giggling like a maniac, grabbing at Oliver's t-shirt so he can 'tell him a secret.' Oli shoves Alex away from him with a little too much force and Alex hits the wall with a solid thud, and then there's silence.
Then there's heavy panting.

"Oli... why, why'd you do that?" Alex whimpers, and Oli can imagine the stupidly attractive puppy dog face he would have pulled as he said that.

"Shut the fuck up, Alex," Oli replies gruffly and leans out the window, trying to calm down. He's rubbing his temples with his tattooed fingers when Alex hits him hard across the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine. "What the fuck are you doin' you fuckin' lunatic?" Oli yells, spinning around in a mad rush and tossing Alex onto the bed like a rag doll. "You think it's fucking funny?" and Oli isn't even sure why he's this mad or why he's treating Alex in this way, but he's so fucking angry that he can't help it and he punches Alex straight in the face.

The resounding whimper stops Oli dead in his movements and he looks down on the precious boy he's astraddle. Fuck, he thinks to himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Oliver can't think of any other words in his vocabulary right now, so that's what he says in apology; "fuck." But then the boy beneath him flips them over with alarming force and mashes their faces together in an intense kiss. The mood changes; lust takes the place of wrath and Oliver's kissing back with more force than he ever has in his life, and Alex is doing just the same. Their hands are roaming the warm skin beneath their t-shirts and Alex is biting at Oliver's piercings and they're moving too fast to properly enjoy the friction that's building between the bulges in their jeans.

Alex is practically tearing off Oli's shirt now and they're swiping their sweaty fringes out of their faces so they can press their mouths together again, breathy moans escaping as they desperately try to get their pants off without breaking contact. Jeans have been discarded and Alex's hand is snaking into Oliver's underwear and Oli moans out loud as Alex's hand makes contact with his throbbing dick. He thrusts his hips up to meet Alex's movements and now Oli's finding it hard to breathe. He mirrors Alex's motions, however and now it's Alex's turn to moan in Oli's ear and Jesus fuck – does he know how hot he sounds when he moans?

Oliver pauses for a moment to rip Alex's underwear out of the way, followed by his own, and rolls astraddle Alex again. Alex looks up at Oli, panting, and he didn't even need to be told – he leant forward and took Oli into his mouth, sucking hard. Oli's hips buck forward involuntarily and his lets out a moan as he fists his hands in Alex's hair, because damn this boy knows how to make him feel good. Alex works his mouth like a fucking expert and Oli can't bring himself to stop him because Jesus it feels good and he's leaning in to kiss Alex's forehead and tugging at his dick hard to try and get Alex off at the same time, and it's working because Alex is moaning around Oli's cock as his inked fingers move expertly up and down his shaft and then fuck, Alex gets it just right and Oli pulls out of his mouth to cum all over Alex's chest.

Alex seems to purr, and Oli mumbles something incoherent as he keeps working his hand harder, and faster, and Alex is moaning and Oli's panting and with a few final tugs Alex unloads everywhere and they collapse into a sweaty, messy tangle of limbs.

"Fuck," Oliver gasps one more time and leans over to bite at Alex's bottom lip.

"Yeah," Alex pants in reply; "fuck."

***

Alexander had woken up the morning after his and Oliver's drunken romp with a headache and a stiff neck. He sat up, surveyed the state of the room he found himself in and then the pain hit him. It hurt to yawn, why was his face so fucking sore? His throat hurt, his back was surely scratched to pieces and every muscle just generally ached. Alex remembered drinking, and remembered Oli's violent mood swing and the hot'n'steamy session that followed, but goddamn he'd never been this sore after a night with a boy before.

Turning his head to look at the boy beside him, he sighed. Alex knew Oli was a little bit messed-up. The boy did a good job at hiding it most of the time, but his flaws were what made him so incredibly desirable, in Alex's opinion. He gazed upon his sleeping face for a while before slowly shifting to cuddle up real close to Olivers limp form.

"Pretty Oli," Alex whispered, softly tracing Oliver's eyelids and nose and lips with his index finger. "Why can't we fall in love?"

Alexander was confused. He wasn't sure what he wanted out of Oliver, only that he wanted something and it was driving him mad. He couldn't get Saturday night out of his head, every move Oli made replaying in his head.

Slammed against the wall.

Punched in the face.

Sucking Oliver's dick.

Alex was Oli's bitch but the idea was strangely fantastic and it left him wanting more.

Tomorrow, he thought to himself, Oliver will succumb to Alexander.