Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9230306.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Sexual_Abuse, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Mental
      Instability, Oral_Fixation, Pedophilia, Feminization, Grooming,
      Strangulation, Starvation, Murder
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-07 Words: 4470
****** Lollipop ******
by RRHood
Summary
     Jordan was twelve years old. At the end of the school year, only half
     a month away, he would be going into seventh grade.
     Then he met Lawrence. Lawrence was a grown-up. And he always had
     lollipops.
He was always there, at the park outside his school. Long hair, stubble on his
chin, wide across the shoulders. His presence was never threatening, and after
several weeks, Jordy had grown comfortable with the stranger’s pale eyes on
him. He would watch the petite brunette boy sit on the swings as he waited for
his mother to come pick him up.
Jordan was twelve years old. At the end of the school year, only half a month
away, he would be going into seventh grade.
                                       *
Under his weight, the weakened chains of the swing creaked, slender and small
hands wringing in his lap. Jordy’s hair was getting a bit shaggy, curling in
gentle waves on his neck, chestnut eyes listlessly watching the ground. It had
been a difficult day, again...the boys in his classes liked to tease him, shove
him about on the playground, because he was a great deal smaller than they
were. He looked different. His eyes were too wide, features too delicate – even
buried under his soccer jersey and bulky khaki shorts, Jordan looked like...a
girl.
And now...after such a terrible day...the man wasn’t even there. He couldn’t
feel his stare, which he’d always secretly believed was always on him, watching
over like a guardian angel.
His eyes had begun to well. He didn’t even know his name, but Jordan had
started to regard him as a friend. No one else paid attention to him the way he
did. No one at school...his teachers didn’t care...and his parents were always
so busy.
They didn’t trust him, either. Perhaps, if they did, he could have taken the
school bus with the other children. They could have given him a key, and let
him stay home alone for an hour until his mother was finished at work. The
house was safe. It had security systems, and plenty of room to hide, in the
unthinkable event that someone burst in. Jordan’s parents made a lot of
money...and his knowledge of the world didn’t allow for ‘bad’ people.
Just mean schoolmates and adults who didn’t seem to want to pay him much
attention.
The chains creaked suddenly as large, solid hands landed on Jordy’s hips,
pulling the swing back slightly and letting go. Immediately, he clung to the
chains, startled, glancing back over his shoulder.
It was him. He hadn’t abandoned Jordy after all. Unknowingly, he smiled, warmth
trickling into his gaze to replace the tears.
The man didn’t smile back. He just looked at him, very intent.
“Hi,” Jordy said brightly. Pallid grey locked with chocolate brown, and he
imagined there was a flicker of a greeting grin brewing.
He wasn’t deterred by his silence.
“I’m Jordy,” he supplied, hoping to hear the man speak. “What’s your name?”
Again, he was silent – all Jordy heard was the ongoing buzz of warm weather,
and the rustling of the man’s hand sliding into his pocket, fingers curling
around a lump there. He was wearing dark jeans, and Jordy thought they had to
be uncomfortable, in the encroaching summer heat. The man took a few slow steps
around the swing, moving in front of Jordy and crouching down, becoming level
with him.
He withdrew the lump from his pocket – a round, cherry red lollipop.
Jordy observed with bewildered wide eyes as thick fingers unwrapped the clear
plastic from around the candy, dropping the litter into the sand and holding it
up, pressing it gently against the boy’s lower lip. Blinking once, Jordy’s lips
parted, accepting the gift; the lollipop was being lightly pushed into his
mouth, and to further his confusion, it was withdrawn slightly right after. The
man slowly and gently repeated the motion, watching Jordy’s mouth as it moved
in and out a few more times.
Even though he was still confused, Jordy didn’t think to wonder why he was
doing that. He just sucked on the cherry candy, savouring the sugar on his
tongue, lips turning red.
Finally, the man relented, letting go of the white plastic stick and letting
Jordy’s hand wind around it instead, contently lapping his tongue up the candy.
“I’m Lawrence,” he finally spoke, and while his voice wasn’t anything like how
Jordy guessed it would be – it was raspy, clipped, and tainted with something
heavy he couldn’t identify – it was nice, nonetheless. Jordy’s lips twitched
around the lollipop stick.
His name was Lawrence. Jordy had never heard that name before, on anyone. He
knew he wouldn’t forget it.
Lawrence’s hand twitched, moving as though about to touch the boy, but he
didn’t. Instead he grasped his own knee as he pushed himself back up, onto his
feet.
“Do you want me to bring you another one tomorrow?”
Jordy nodded contently. Lawrence didn’t say anything else, still staring at him
as though he was looking right into him, eventually walking too far away from
him to keep Jordy in his sights. Vice versa applied, and he felt a little let
down to see him go.
From around the corner, his mother’s blue car rounded to a stop in front of the
school playground. Jordy got up, sand and the plastic wrapper tickling his feet
through his sandals, and he took off towards the car at a run. He wanted to get
home. He wanted tomorrow to come faster.
His mother peered at him in the rear-view mirror as he climbed into the
backseat.
“Where’d you get the candy...?”
“My friend gave it to me.” Jordy sucked and savoured the cherry taste for the
length of the car drive home.
                                       *
From then on, Lawrence always brought him candy. Most often, they were
lollipops, but sometimes he brought him other things...pieces of chocolate that
would melt in his mouth and on his lips, or long sticks of candy that he would
run his tongue up the full length of, or suck until the end was a narrow point.
Once or twice, on particularly hot days, he brought him a popsicle.
He didn’t often talk, but Jordy didn’t mind. He let Jordy talk, pouring out his
thoughts, his miseries, the experiences that had brought him the most joy.
On the final day of school, he felt a mix of those two – misery and joy.
“Why are you sad?”
Lawrence’s eyes were boring holes into him, penetrating him that may have been
unsettling to anyone who was unused to it. Jordy knew that was just the way he
looked at him.
“I...” he awkwardly pressed the tip of his sandal into the hot sand, burying
his toes, “I don’t want school to end...I have to go to a different school next
year...”
He gazed upwards at Lawrence, biting his lip and twirling the lollipop stick
between his fingers. He looked pleading.
“What if I don’t ever, never see you again?” his voice had grown childishly
small, and to console himself, he pressed his lollipop back into his mouth.
One of Lawrence’s large hands rested in his dark hair, the weight of it even
more comforting to Jordy than the candy.
“...If you tell me where you live, you can see me every day.”
Jordy lit up, and didn’t think twice.
                                       *
There were nights when both his parents were out; that used to upset Jordy. But
now, he’d learned to look forward to them.
Jordy always called Lawrence, never the other way around. He’d told the boy
that he couldn’t call, just in case one of his parents picked up the phone. He
said they had to be secret friends. He didn’t mind, because it was exciting. It
was fun; a game. He sneaked the phone out of the kitchen, dialled the number
he’d stowed under his mattress, and waiting eagerly for Lawrence to pick up. He
never let it ring past the second or third low tone.
Then the night would come. His parents would get dressed up and leave, Jordy
would lock their yappy Yorkshire terrier in the basement, and unlock the back
door. Then, twenty or so minutes later, Lawrence would arrive.
Jordy threw his arms around his thick waist, appreciating his solid build, and
happily began to lead him upstairs to his bedroom. For whatever reason,
Lawrence liked it best up there. He didn’t understand why, since it wasn’t
special, but he never contested it.
This time, however, Lawrence seemed to have another idea.
“Where’s the bathroom?” he asked, arm lifting. There was a plastic bag hanging
there; in his eagerness, Jordy hadn’t noticed it, but now his curiosity
swelled.
“It’s over here,” he wrapped his hands around one of Lawrence’s, taking him to
the clean white-tiled room instead. It was larger than it needed to be, the
bathtub at one far corner and a shower in the other, fresh flowers in a tall
vase by the marble counter and sink. His mother loved flowers. Jordy didn’t.
They were too breakable.
Lawrence closed the door behind them. Jordy wasn’t sure why, there was no
threat of interruption. Dropping the bag onto the counter, he leaned down and
grasped the hem of the boy’s shirt, beginning to pull it upwards. Startled,
Jordy tried to hold it down.
“What’re you doing...?”
There was no use; Lawrence jerked his shirt up and off, bundling it in both
hands and tossing it to the corner, as though it disgusted him.
“We’re going to make you prettier,” he told him – Jordy shivered, and he wasn’t
sure if it was the tone of his voice, or the air conditioning sliding over his
bared skin. “Don’t you want to be prettier?”
“The boys at school used to say I look like a girl,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
Girls were considered ‘pretty’, and as much as he coloured at the comment, he
didn’t want to be, if it meant he was...feminine.
“I like it,” Lawrence said firmly, “and I’ll like you even better once I’m
done. Do you want me to like you?”
No hesitation: “Yes.”
He supposed it was different, if Lawrence liked him that way.
A box was taken out of the plastic bag, words and instructions written all over
the sides. The only one Jordy caught sight of was ‘bleach’, before the box was
ripped apart, torn open to get to the various bottles inside it.
With Lawrence’s assurance that he would be improved, better liked, he moved
compliantly as directed. He was directed to kneel over the bathtub, dark eyes
tightly closed as something cold was dripped into his hair, rubbed into the
brunette locks, filling the room with a strong too-clean scent. His scalp
burned as the minutes dragged on, as did the spots on his neck the cold
substance had dripped.
He had to close his eyes even more tightly once the water started, blasting
hard and cold. Jordy was pushed underneath the stream, and he was starting to
see spots. He didn’t dare open them, though, for fear of getting any of the
bleach in his eyes.
Eventually – it could have been an hour, that passed – Jordy was tugged back,
and soothingly, Lawrence massaged him, hands running through his wet hair,
petting him. He still felt a bit of a sting, in places, but the freezing water
had cooled the sensation for the most part. He shivered, a chill wracking his
entire body.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair had turned shockingly
pale, almond-blonde, a stark colour. It looked bizarre, to him.
But Lawrence seemed pleased. His gaze roved from the top of his head down to
his chest. The cold had Jordy’s nipples stiff and pert, and he wasn’t
concealing them from view, even as his arms wound around himself in an attempt
to warm up.
One of the thick, fluffy towels was pulled from the rack, Lawrence draping it
over Jordy. The now-blonde appeared grateful, tugging it over his wet tresses.
“There,” Lawrence muttered, and his voice was huskier than usual. “Now you’re
pretty.”
                                       *
His parents demanded answers the next day. Jordy didn’t know what to tell them,
so he didn’t tell them anything.
They didn’t go out again for a long while.
                                       *
Jordy had become desperate, over the last few weeks. He’d sneaked phone calls
twice, three times, four times a day...but without being able to see Lawrence,
he was becoming a wreck. He spent nearly all his time locked up in his room,
sometimes crying, sometimes playing. He had dolls – he used to call them action
figures – and he would kneel in front of his bed, making up wistful stories
influenced by the movies he used to watch when he was younger.
He felt like a princess, trapped inside a terrible tower with his wicked
parents lurking downstairs, keeping his knight at bay. The more his longing
grew, the more difficult it became to distinguish what it was he missed most
about Lawrence.
The way he would touch him; firmly, like he knew Jordy was strong enough not to
break, while everyone else seemed to think him so delicate. The way he would
talk to him; directly, almost forcibly, like he regarded Jordy as an adult and
not a silly child. The way he looked at him; as if he needed Jordy around, not
like he was exasperating, or a burden.
It was a little past noon.
“Jordy!” his mother was calling him. “Can you take Pippi for a walk?”
Downstairs, the terrier was barking and squeaking wildly, and he could almost
dimly hear her nails scratching and tapping against the hardwood floors as she
raced about energetically. He dropped his toys; anything to silence the
creature.
Opening his door, he padded barefoot down the stairs, the obnoxious terrier
scuttling towards him, yapping at him. He ignored her, walking towards the back
door and slipping on his sandals. His mother was close behind him, cooing at
the dog until she held still, allowing her to clip the collar to a leash.
She handed the other end to Jordy, giving him an almost stern stare. “Don’t be
too long. And don’t leave the neighbourhood, I don’t want you getting lost...”
“Okay,” he replied listlessly, opening the door and gripping the leash’s loop.
Pippi raced out, tugged back by the leash’s short length, forced to walk at
Jordy’s pace. Every step dragged a little, the cheery day doing nothing for his
disposition. Pippi raced around his ankles, nearly tripping him once or twice,
and he entertained the notion of kicking her the next time she made a nuisance
of herself.
He walked the long, stretching plane of the sidewalk to the very end of the
block, turning back around once he reached the stop sign and crosswalk. There
were no cars, on such a lazy day. It was hard for Jordy to remember during
summer vacation, but he was fairly certain it was a weekday.
Strange, that his mother was home. His father may have been, too. He hadn’t
thought to check.
As they drew closer to the tall house Jordy called home, Pippi began to bark
wildly again. Chocolate brown eyes lifted from the ground, looking for the
stranger that had set her off in such a way.
It was him. Lawrence. He was at the end of the street.
Jordy’s heart lifted. Promptly, he let the leash slip from his fingers, taking
off at a run. His sandals slipped off somewhere along the way, but he didn’t
care. Pippi was still barking, somewhere behind him, but she was too cowardly
to chase after him and tear into the unfamiliar man. After a few moments, she
stopped. Jordy didn’t care why.
He nearly fell into Lawrence’s open arms, sighing blissfully when his arms
wrapped around him tightly. No fear of hurting him, or crushing him; if
anything, he was holding too tightly, but Jordy didn’t mind. He preferred it
that way...it was familiar.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “They never leave anymore and I wanted you to come
over but you said-...you said you had to be a secret...”
Lawrence’s grip was lessening, one of his hands cupping his chin instead. His
thumb was resting against Jordy’s lips, but it didn’t remain that way for long,
forcing them apart and pressing the thick digit inside.
Jordy didn’t know what to do with it there...but he barely paid it any heed.
Lawrence seemed to know what he wanted, anyway, brushing his thumb over the
boy’s tongue. He tasted of salt, and something else unrecognisable.
His stolen ability to speak didn’t matter. Lawrence was here, and he wasn’t
angry with him.
“Jordy!”
Lawrence’s thumb was wrenched out of his mouth. Jordy’s mother was running
towards them, front door thrown wide open. He was bolting before the blonde
even had time to whimper, tearing down the street as Jordy’s mother descended
on her son, tugging him towards her, a stricken expression on her face.
He didn’t understand why she looked so horrified. All he knew was that she had
driven Lawrence away.
A surge of hatred overcame him, crawling up his throat like bile, but he didn’t
give into the urge to shove her away.
                                       *
He had been punished; two weeks’ worth of grounding, and vicious questions
about Lawrence from his parents. She had told his father what she’d seen, when
he got home from work, and he had reacted just as strongly.
Jordy had also been screamed at for losing the dog. Pippi had run away when
he’d gone to Lawrence. He was personally satisfied that something had been
accomplished, on his walk. He despised that dog. Besides, she had her collar
and leash.
He’d reached his limit, had enough. He refused to remain a prisoner,
anymore...he wanted to be with Lawrence, not his tyrannical parents who would
go so far as to keep him away from his friend.
Jordy had crept downstairs and smuggled the phone to his bedroom. It was past
midnight. His parents were deeply asleep, after hours of arguing and talking
and whispering. He drew his knees up to his chest, dialling the familiar number
and pressing the phone against his ear.
He hoped Lawrence would pick up. He hoped he wouldn’t be mad.
The other end picked up, and there was silence. Jordy whispered, “Lawrence...?”
“Yeah.”
Jordy relaxed slightly, having been momentarily petrified he’d dialled wrong.
“I-...I need you,” he murmured. “I want to go live with you...can I...?” There
was quiet on the other end for too long, only the sound of Lawrence’s breathing
to let him know he was still there. He curled in on himself more, begging,
“Please...?”
“...Sneak out in an hour. I’ll come get you. You better not fucking keep me
waiting.”
“I won’t,” Jordy flushed, exhilaration making his heart beat faster. Lawrence
was coming to get him; he’d never have to stay with anyone else ever again.
He hung up, and began to pack what few possessions he needed.
                                       *
It had been easy, slipping out of the house. He hadn’t brought his key, or
anything he thought could be traced. The only things he’d bothered with were
Lawrence’s phone number, taken just in case his bedroom was searched once his
disappearance was discovered, and money.
The latter had pleased Lawrence. He seemed even more pleased to hear that Jordy
hadn’t thought to bring clothing.
His large hand held the blonde boy’s, walking briskly and forcing him into a
jog to keep up. It was a long walk, well over the allotted hour Lawrence had
given him. Jordy didn’t recognise the part of town they were in, the buildings,
even the scent. Everything smelled like smoke and dirt, but Jordy didn’t care.
It was with Lawrence, and that was all that mattered.
The dingy apartment building had poorly lit hallways, the light bulb hanging
from the ceiling in front of Lawrence’s door flickering occasionally,
threatening to plunge them into darkness. There were stains on the carpet, and
the brass doorknob was rusted. The lock squeaked piercingly as the key was
shoved inside and turned.
Within the apartment itself, it was even shabbier. Something – strips of paper,
it looked like to Jordy – littered the coffee table, the dark couch stained in
spots. All the blinds were drawn, and the lights were all out.
Abruptly, Jordy was whirled around, hands brought down on his shoulders with
such an impact that it made his knees tremble.
“You don’t call your parents,” Lawrence ordered harshly. “You don’t talk to
anyone you used to know. You’re all fucking mine now, and you do everything I
say, that clear?”
Jordy’s lips parted, but there was no sound – why did he even need to say such
things? Didn’t he know how badly Jordy just wanted to be with him...?
“Don’t gape like a fucking idiot, tell me that’s clear.”
“It’s clear,” he exhaled, and was relieved when Lawrence pulled his body flush
against his.
                                       *
By the end of the week, Jordy had been bought new clothing. Tiny shorts and
panties, loose flowing shirts that barely hung on his frame, thin lacy socks
and slippers.
That same week, Lawrence started letting him sleep on his bed. Not beside him;
he was to stay at the very foot of the bed, so that he could be kicked when the
man woke. He didn’t like Jordy to sleep any longer than he did.
Before summer ended, he enrolled Jordy in the seventh grade. Jordy didn’t want
to go, but it gave him something to look forward to at the end of each school
day: coming home to Lawrence, who would kiss him and fuck him and torture him
until he promised he would skip the following day. Sometimes, he would torture
him even after.
Jordy was never frightened by his beatings or cruelty. The threats to not feed
him weren’t taken as true threats, and when he was locked for days inside
Lawrence’s closet or tied for hours to his bed, he didn’t mind.
It made him feel loved. Never scared.
Somewhere along the line, that changed.
                                       *
Jordy’s wrists were raw from rope burn, scratches lightly bleeding. Lawrence
had untied him, eventually. After twelve hours.
He’d missed school. He’d had a test. It wasn’t like it truly mattered, he was
already failing...but it was an annoyance, that he hadn’t even been allowed to
go. Lawrence was naked, sated, having used him until he bled. The man didn’t
seem to enjoy it, anymore, unless he ended up bleeding.
“...Lawrence?”
Jordy’s voice was soft; he didn’t want to disturb his lover’s afterglow. He was
promptly cuffed for speaking, however, Lawrence’s hand connecting with his
chin. He bowed his head slightly, but continued. If all he’d received was a
strike, he can’t have minded too much.
“Next time, can you untie me for school?”
There was a faint growl, and again Jordy was smacked, this time hard enough to
send him into the wall. His head connected with the surface, sending an ache
running through him, lips pulling into a wince.
“Are you talking back to me?” Lawrence’s hand was shoved under his chin,
seizing his throat tightly. Jordy coughed, choking. “Are you telling me what
you want me to do?”
‘Talking back’ to him...Jordy never could understand the difference between
what was impertinent, and what was merely hopeful.
He tried to shake his head. There it was again – fear, clamping an unnatural,
clammy hand on his heart. He didn’t feel loved, or wanted, just wary. Tension
climbed up his body, heart pumping audibly in his ears.
Lawrence continued to squeeze, and his voice was full of something cold.
“Back-talk me again, and I’ll fucking murder you.”
His blood ran cold through his veins, and he couldn’t hear his heart anymore.
Lawrence’s voice had taken on an echoing quality, and fuzzy grey was beginning
to slide over his eyes.
“I could even do it now, you stupid slut, and no one would care.”
Jordy began to thrash, nails clawing at his fingers, his wrists. Lawrence’s
grip lifted, but he no longer cared. The only comprehensible words were ‘I’ll
fucking murder you.’
He couldn’t let it happen. Jordy didn’t want to be scared.
The rope was ripped from the bed and tugged around Lawrence’s throat. Jordy was
hit, and thrown, but he only pulled harder. Everything was happening in a blur;
he was on Lawrence’s back, pulling, pulling, and Lawrence was stumbling and
crashing into the wall, forcing pain up Jordy’s spine and bruising him, and he
still didn’t let go-...
And then Jordy tumbled off his back, crashing to the floor.
Lawrence had gone still.
Hot tears ran down Jordy’s paled cheeks, limp against the wall. His airway
still ached with every ragged breath. Lawrence was still...unmoving, face
purpled, and a deep red line – like a gash – across his neck.
He’d killed someone.
He’d killed Lawrence...and god, how he’d loved him...
And god...it had felt...so good. Jordy felt almost giddy, overcome with greater
joy than he could remember...ever. A few weakened giggles escaped him,
breathing still staggered and faint. He crawled forward tentatively.
Fear again. Maybe Lawrence was sleeping.
Gently, his hand lay against his neck, searching for a pulse...even the
faintest indication... He was still warm, and it was a nice feeling. The warmth
of his skin, without that blackened, beating heart. Lawrence’s eyes were
bulging, paler than Jordy had ever seen them, frozen in a shocked glower.
He was truly dead.
                                       *
It had been two days. The body hadn’t even started to smell.
Jordy lugged his body over his shoulders, stumbling like a drunk and
manoeuvring through the shadows to the graveyard less than a block away. He had
waited, and in such a crime-heavy area of town, he thankfully hadn’t had to
wait for long.
A hole had been dug for a grave. The funeral was probably going to take place
tomorrow morning.
Adrenaline hummed through his body, making the young teenager’s trek easier.
Lawrence’s dragging feet made tracks in the grass, but he didn’t think anyone
would notice.
He dumped the body into the ground, kneeling at the side of the hole, staring
down into the grave. He didn’t feel anything. Certainly no regret.
Milky-white hands began to dig through soil, beginning to cover Lawrence’s
corpse, and all the while he hummed a love song under his breath. The dirt was
slightly wet; it packed together well, a quality he was glad for. He didn’t
want the body surfacing overnight. The soil fell over the dead, open eyes,
white fingertips steadily tainted by black-brown, getting under his nails, on
his clothes.
He didn’t mind. This feeling was much better than feeling wanted or loved.
Jordy was thirteen. At the end of the school year, in a month and a half, he
would be going into eighth grade.
 
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