seconding this, especially with him being smug and liking it.

Brown has a blink and you miss it moment in this where he starts on some white supremacist talking points and is a raging misogynist. Vic is bad in all the ways you've come to expect.

-----------------------------------------------


"You don't shut your mouth, I'll shut it for you." Vic snaps, and for the first time since he got out of the slammer he can feel how close he is to losing his self control.

Brown snickers, leaning back against the booth they've been crammed in to as smoke staggers out of his mouth. "Whatever man, I'd like to see you try."

If the thick fuck had a shred of spatial awareness he might pick up on the apprehension circulating the table. No one else doubts that Vic would be able to make their day hell, which is good, how it's supposed to be. Eddie tenses up next to him, reaching out to lay a hand on Vic's shoulder in the universal gesture for 'calm the fuck down before you do something stupid and I have to read out your rap sheet to my old man'.

Without breaking eye contact, Brown takes another long puff on his cigarette and starts up talking about Bowie's a massive fucking queer.

--------

Vic gets saddled with Brown and Pink to case out the jewelry store, after a rather protracted argument that concluded with Eddie insisting he didn't need to ever go within five blocks of the place and that White had already booked himself some one on one time with the new kid.

"Fucking faggot." Eddie spat. Vic raises en eyebrow at him and manages to imply exactly nothing.

But now he's stretched out in the backseat of a shitty grey Ford built ten years ago, listening to Pink and Brown circle the edge of an argument like male lions trying to work out if biological imperative is enough to have them going in for the kill.

"I'm just saying." Brown spits. "The whole ABBA thing is a paradox. They've got these hot chicks up front that everyone and their mother wants to fuck six ways till Sunday but everyone's got this idea in their head that it's not really a sex thing. ABBA is pure, it's just pop music. Then you got these smoking hot girls singing about Voulez Vous of whatever, and you know what that means."

"It means, 'do you want to'." Pink sneers.

"Nah, man. It means like 'let's fuck'."

"You speak French, motherfucker?"

"Oh, and you do."

"Oui, je parle français! Toi connasse... J'en ai ral le cul de ta merde. Un vol de diamant? T'as pas de couilles."

The cowed shock that crosses Brown's face is fucking delicious. Vic laughs, despite himself. "You gotta teach me some of that shit. My brother's out in the Netherlands right now."

"Ik spreek geen Nederlands." Pink replies.

Vic frown. "What does that mean?"

"Means I don't speak Dutch."

"Yeah but Europe's all the same right? They all speak each other's language over there." Brown ventures and when no one's smart enough to stop him, he keeps talking. "We talk about America like it's some crazy big melting pot but the truth is, Europeans have been practicing racial mixing for thousands of years before Columbus even boarded a fucking boat. Only when it's white on white mixing, no one gives a shit. They all speak each other's languages though. You could show up in Greece, start speaking French and folks would understand you."

The appalled expression that plasters itself over Pink's face tells Vic that the guy's spent more than a little time in Europe. Brown keeps on ranting though, bringing the conversation back to ABBA in a heartbeat as he twists the thread back to beautiful purebred Swedish girls.

-------

"I ain't sure you like girls at all." Vic digs Brown in the ribs a shade too hard to be friendly and Brown doesn't notice anything off bout it.

"Like 'em? Hell no. I just wanna put my dick in one sometimes." Brown laughs. "If I could keep a cunt in a box and only take it out when I needed to fuck, that would be the perfect amount of woman for me. Can't stand talking to the whores."

Vic nods, like he does or doesn't agree. They watch Pink carefully, as he rounds the corner up ahead of the car and vanishes out of sight. They're not supposed to follow him, so they're not gonna, but it would be a piece of piss if they felt like it.

"You want me to drop you off?" Brown asks as Vic hauls himself up into the passenger seat.

Vic pauses, thinking about it. "I wanna show you something."

Brown frowns as he boots up the engine. "Cool, man. I got nothing else on today."

It seems highly unlikely that Brown has ever had anything else on in the entirety of his life. He doesn't seem to notice that Vic won't respond to his diatribe on the sexual imagery of Star Wars with more than two syllables at a time, and he doesn't notice he's being watched, oh so carefully, from just across the car.

----------------

Vic steers them to a safe house he doesn't use anymore, hasn't used since before he was locked up. The key is still under the doormat, where it's supposed to be, though and none of the neighbours notice them coming or going. Someone should still be paying rent on this place out of some account or another, but that doesn't mean the landlord doesn't know who should be coming or going.

Brown walks down the corridor ahead of Vic, nose wrinkling as he kicks up dust. There's some furniture still here, probably an old toothbrush in the bathroom, but otherwise it's empty.

The lights don't go when Vic flips the switch just inside the door. No more money for electricity here. The water's probably off as well.

"The fuck is this?" Brown asks, sticking his head round the door into the bedroom.

The bed has a mattress and nothing else. He looks back at Vic. "What, you bring me here to fuck me or something?"

"Or something." Vic reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the straight razor he keeps there. That's a fun thing about being free, you can keep yourself armed and never worry that the guards are gonna shake you down for the only thing you have to defend yourself with when they get bored.

The apple in Brown's throat bobs convulsively. "Uh, Blonde? What the shit, man?"

You gotta learn how to read a man in prison. Fear is the most important emotion to learn, everything else hangs on how quickly someone gets scared. Brown is definitely scared, the way he's gone perfectly stiff and his mouth hangs open in dismay. But excitement tinges his blown pupils as well, and Vic has to laugh as he realises that the sick fuck is going to sit down and let him do whatever the fuck he wants.

Vic strides up to him and hooks his left hand under Brown's chin. Brown has about an inch on him, tops, but he's a scrawny fucker who doesn't look like he's ever won so much as half a fight and he wriggles like a worm destined to be fish bait in Vic's hand.

"We gotta shave you up nice." Vic tells him, teasing the edge of his stupid little goatee with the blade. "After that, we'll see how it goes."

"Holy shit you really do wanna fuck me." Brown lets out a hysterical peal of giggles. He's spectacularly ugly without pushing it, from the beady little eyes and the receding hairline to the chin that's strong but stretches out too far. Vic throws him down on the bed and watches him bounce as the springs strain to keep their shape.

"Sit up." Vic says, and Brown shuffles so obediently to the edge of the bed till he's got his feet flat on the floor and is looking up, waiting for the games to begin. The tuft of dark hair sitting just below his bottom lip seems to grow under scrutiny, and in many ways it's the least offensive part of his face.

Smug satisfaction radiates off the guy. Even when he's scared. "What else do you wanna do to me?" Brown asks as Vic slips in low to start teasing the sparse few hairs off his face.

"I want you to shut the fuck up." Vic snaps.

Brown laughs and the blade almost cuts his nose off as he moves. "Good fucking luck. You know all this shit, playing around with knives of whatever, it's all pseudosexual. Maybe you just hate my fucking beard, but you wanna get your hands all over me too, and that's what really matters.

Without flinching, Vic moves a foot forward to tread down hard on Brown's toes.

Brown winces but doesn't stop. "Shit like that, see? That desire for control? It's all sex shit. I bet when you take girls home you tie them up, fuck them with a gag in their mouth, pull their hair. All that shit, am I right?"

The last couple of hairs come away and Brown's chin is mercifully free of a beard. Vic shakes his head. "I ain't taken a girl home since I was sixteen."

"Jesus." Brown's eyebrows fly to his hairline. "You must be packing some pretty epic blue balls."

"Not really. I fuck plenty."

"You just don't take them home." Brown leers and raises a finger in Vic's face. "Smart, I gotta try that. I fucking hate it when I wake up and she's still in my bed, you know? Like bitch, you've done what I brought you here to do. Get out."

Vic smiles at him, the straight razor still resting against Brown's cheek. "Open your mouth."

Brown rolls his eyes but when the edge of the blade digs into his cheek he takes the hint. His tongue looks like an angry pink slug, slothful and resentful of its place in life,rigging around between teeth that look too big for his face.

"I don't fuck women." Vic says, nice and slow so he has time to get the message.

Comprehension washes over Brown's face with a fresh wave of fear. Before he can say something stupid, Vic leans in and kisses him, pushing his tongue up into his mouth and letting the straight razor do the talking for him when the guy tries to move away. Brown doesn't respond, doesn't move, just holds his mouth open and lets Vic try to swallow him down.

"What the shit?" Brown whines, when Vic pulls away. "What the fucking shit?"

"This ain't about you." Vic assumes him, stroking the side of his face with the razor. It's mostly not a lie. "I just gotta take a minute to get what I need, you understand? If I could keep a dick in a box and take it out every time I wanted to fuck... well, you said it yourself."

"Right." Brown nods. His eyes rake over Vic's face and settle on his mouth. "Right."

When Vic kisses him again, he kisses back, even manages to raise up a hand to pull him in closer by the front of his shirt. It's wrong, broken. A guy you have under the knife ain't supposed to give you anything you don't work for.

Vic pulls away and straightens up. Looking down, Brown's eyes are as wide and open as they're ever gonna get and his lips are brightened with spit; he draws the bottom one into his mouth and bites hard. "I've never...uh...with a guy..."

But you wanted to. Vic thinks. He can smell it on him, can smell it on every fucking guy Joe brought in for this job. He's gotta tell Eddie to be more careful who they hire.

He nods. "Strip."

Brown stumbles out of his clothes, throwing them over the other side of the pile to land in the dust that's settled there. He doesn't even have the decency to curl in on himself when he's done, sitting back in all his scrawny, pasty skinned glory with a dick that's a shade more impressive than a guy like him should be allowed to have. "So, what? You want me to bottom for you? Or do I fuck you or-"

"You shut up." Vic tells him.

Brown nods and resolutely doesn't understand. "Right, but what do I do."

"You shut up." Vic places a hand over his mouth and watches the flicker in Brown's eyes. Either not taking this seriously or too fucking kinky to think straight. Doesn't matter which, he's gonna take some serious taming whichever way he lands.

Turning the blunt side of the blade into Brown's chest, Vic drags it down between his non existent pectorals and feels the seal of his hand tighten as the guy sucks in air. He presses cold metal over a nipple, rubbing just hard enough to hurt and get the ghost of a whimper in response.

Brown's a noisy fucker at the best of times. Vic decides immediately that he's gonna be a screamer if shit gets good, no matter what that means for his vital organs. Letting go of his mouth, Vic ducks over to the other side of the bed and extracts a rather gray pair of Y fronts from the discarded jeans.

"What are those for?" Brown asks, breathlessly. His right hand has started inching towards his dick, and Vic has to slap it down fast to show him who's boss.

"Can't have you waking up the neighbours." Vic explains, as he bundles the underwear into a ball and shoves them into Brown's mouth.

The fun thing about someone with a gag in their mouth is they can't say no. Plausible deniability, the guilty party's greatest weapon. Vic shrugs off the varsity jacket he's been wearing for some university he never went to and uses the sleeves to tie Brown's hands behind his back.

He's a picture. Like this, he's almost pretty. Vic's never felt the need to own a camera but he thinks he'd have liked a record of this moment. If he got bored of it, he could always sell it on to some dirty magazine.

This time Vic leads with the sharp side of the blade, tracing it ever so carefully over the bare expanse of Brown's chest. He doesn't leave a scratch till he arrives back at the nipple, setting a hand on Brown's shoulder just to feel him tremble with excitement.

Tipping the razor at an angle, Vic suggests that he could cut the nipple off is he wanted to. Brown's eyes flicker between the blade and Vic's face and decidedly doesn't believe that's his intention.

"You don't think I would?" Vic murmurs, and in the instant that Brown spends doubting his self control, he pushes down hard enough with the blade to drawn blood.

Brown squeaks and rears away from him, landing helplessly on his back, unable to right himself. He twists to see the damage and doesn't calm down till he's sure that the nipple is still there.

Laughing, Vic steps forward to sit him up again. "Hey, we gotta work up to that type of shit. I'm not gonna cut anything off, yet."

There's no more doubt that Brown is genuinely scared, having been presented with a good enough reason to be. His dick is still standing straight though, even as a rivulet of blood starts to creep down from the cut over his left nipple.

Everyone looks prettier when they bleed. Vic's always been slow to get excited, but he can feel it starting in the lower pit of his stomach, thinking about waking his own dick up. A little bit of fear gets someone where you want them. A whole lot of fear gets the both of you exactly where you need to go.

"You wanna lose that nipple?" Vic asks, as Brown tries to wriggle out of his grip again. "Because I can do that."

Tentatively, Brown shakes his head.

Vic grins. "Yeah you do, we're not there yet though." He drags the razor across Brown's belly, right over his bellybutton, just enough to scratch. He's not expecting the yelp that forces it's way under the gag though, and has to look down to be sure he didn't do more damage than he intended before another light stroke down the guy's side reveals a very different problem.

He's tickling. So fucking ticklish that he's more worried about pressure at the wrong points than whether or not he's about to be gutted. Vic laughs, and almost wishes he hadn't gagged him, just to hear the fuss he would kick up. he settles for pressing a kiss to his nose. and pressing on.

Obviously the blade is supposed to go down, to start making threats on his junk, so Vic drags it up towards Brown's face, pausing along the way to dig the tip of the blade into the cut over the nipple. Brown twitches and whimpers, his dick jerking violently enough to brush against the front of Vic's shirt.

"You little pervert." Vic smiles at him, and means it. The razor brushes along Brown's neck without leaving anything more incriminating than a vague scratch before clicking into place just below his ear lobe.

For lack of shit to say, Brown shakes his head ever so slightly. He doesn't want this shit? This shit is exactly what he's going to get.

Wow. Really fucking good and an amazing ending. The character dynamics you've created are so interesting, and the dialogue is perfect.