Jessie Walker
patreon
Sweet Wicked Thing - Prologue
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 04:51:00 +0000 UTCPlease keep in mind that this is a dark MM romance. This story, including the Prologue, deals with sensitive topics that may be triggering for some individuals.
⚠️ For those who need it: https://tinyurl.com/SWTContentWarning ⚠️
One, two, three…
I’m on a boat, it’s storming, and the waves are thrashing the cabin. It smells like sweat and stale beer, salty and pungent, and I imagine it’s my crew pressed up alongside me as we ride out the storm raging outside these four walls. We’ve been at sea for days, with nothing but the ocean and a bar of soap to wash ourselves.
It’s hot.
It’s humid.
It’s rank.
The rocking picks up, and reality begins to creep in when a sharp twinge sparks at the base of my spine, hollowing out my belly.
…six, seven, eight…
Eleven point five.
He never makes it past eleven point five, not when he’s drunk like this.
My eyes are squeezed shut, the pillow damp against my cheek. I tell myself it’s just sweat. Or maybe some seawater spraying in from a crack in the window.
It’s so hot…sticky. It smells. I’m—
I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m not here, I chant.
I’m on a boat. I’m a fisherman. No, a pirate.
…nine…
Pirates are strong. They’re deadly and brave. No one messes with pirates.
The mattress squeaks beneath me, and I inhale sharply, my body going rigid.
Squeak, inhale.
Squeak, inhale—
Groan.
I squeeze my eyes shut so tight I feel like my eyeballs might pop. Block it out, just block it out.
My fingers are buried so deep in my pillow, the cotton pushes my nails back into my skin. It burns, so I push them in deeper, counting and inhaling, choking on thin, musty air. Willing my body to relax. It hurts less that way, but sometimes, like right now, it’s hard to remember that.
Eleven…
A noise—a creak.
It halts everything, seizing my lungs with a sharp, high-pitched gasp.
That didn’t come from the bed, I realize, as the rocking comes to a stuttered stop.
My eyes fly open, the fantasy shattering to reveal the brown wood-paneled wall of my bedroom. I know it’s the floorboard by the door I just heard. I just know it.
And so does the man on top of me.
My much smaller body shudders as he pulls away, relieving the pressure, like pulling a stopper from a drain. The bed frame whines. “What th—” he starts to growl.
I roll my head over just in time to catch the short, skinny body flying across the room—shorter and skinnier than even me.
No!
It’s dark, but not so dark that I can’t immediately tell who it is.
My eyes widen as I take in the small pale hands grappling at Rick’s shirt as the older, much taller and wider man stumbles back off the bed. His jeans are tangled around his knees, and he nearly falls on his backside, catching himself at the last possible second.
“You little fuckin’ shit!”
There’s a flash of wide, dark eyes—too big for his gaunt face—just before Rick lunges, hands flexed and aimed for my brother’s throat.
“Vale,” I breathe.
Blink.
Glass shatters. A pained grunt.
Blink.
Squelching sounds.
Blink.
My cheeks hurt…my throat, my hand...
It’s wet.
Blink.
Someone’s screaming. A woman.
But someone is laughing too.
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing is making sense.
Why does my arm hurt? Why is everything so wet?
Something tugs on my pajama shirt, and I hear my name whispered. Aston.
Suddenly, the world explodes into color. A mighty gasp bursts from my lungs, almost like a hiccup.
Red. It’s all red.
I’m surrounded by it. Even the foggy brown eyes vacantly staring up at me look red.
Heavy footsteps are thudding up the stairs. A woman is crying, and someone is still laughing. The world is still rocking, too, just like it was earlier, but the pressure is gone. The pain is gone.
Well, mostly. My hand hurts. Burns. It’s bunched into a fist, and feels…weird…
Stiff.
Stuck.
“What did you do?” the sobbing female wails from the doorway. Several dark figures push past her, swarming the room. And still she screams, “What did you do?!”
“Jesus,” someone breathes.
More curses, more sobbing, more…giggling. It seems to be coming from everywhere all at once, all this noise. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I register lights flashing through the window—red and blue, not unlike the Christmas lights on the house across the street. Sirens ring out into the night—wee-woo, wee-woo!
I try to swallow, but when I do, it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t taste right. It’s sharp and bitter, like I was licking old pennies, and it doesn’t want to go down. It just keeps coming back up.
Oh, I realize. It’s because I’m the one laughing.
Hunching my shoulders, I curl inward, my knees coming up to my chest as I try to bite down on the sounds erupting from my mouth. Something warm and clammy brushes my bare butt, and I tense when I realize what it is, but only for a moment.
Something tells me I won’t have to worry about that anymore.
The thought has me laughing even harder. I can’t stop. Even when I bring my warm, wet, sticky fists to my mouth, I can barely keep it all in.
“Son…” The voice is deep. Warbly and faraway, like it’s coming from underwater.
Someone crouches next to me, and I flinch, my rocking coming to a halt. I snap my gaze to the strange man now staring back at me. His hands are raised, his furrowed eyes darting between my face and my fists.
Cops are here, I realize, finally registering the man’s uniform, and all I can think is, Good, they’ll finally take us from this place. Relief softens some of my irritation, quieting the awful sounds coming from my lips.
Something creaks. The floor. The spot right next to the door. It always creaks when someone steps there. Vale should’ve known better.
Stupid, stupid, brave little—
I gasp. Vale!
My laughter, which was already dimming, breaks off with another sharp, hiccupping gasp as I whip my head to the side. The officer throws himself back, but I pay him no notice. I’m too focused on the boy kneeling a few feet away, trembling like a leaf.
“It’s okay,” I say, cheeks aching with how hard I try to stop smiling.
Dark nearly-black eyes peer blankly back at me from a face so pale, it could belong to a ghost.
Laughter bubbles up once more. My vision blurs as I try to keep it all in, but it’s no use. “It’s okay, Valey.”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t move. I can’t even be sure he’s even breathing. I kind of want to shake him. Slap him, even. If anyone should be freaking out right now, it should be me.
“I got him,” I whisper.
His eyes redden, tightening at the corners.
A sharp laugh erupts out of me, this time through my mouth. I quickly press a fist to my lips, like I can shove it back in. But it’s no use.
“I got him!” This time, my voice carries, loud and high-pitched, threatening to crack, before it breaks off into another round of giggles.
That old penny taste and smell is stronger than ever with my wet fingers mashed up against my mouth. But I don’t really mind.
I got him. It’s all I can think. All that matters.
Everything will be better now, Vale. You’ll see. It’ll all go back to the way it was, but better!
“Son…could you please drop the weapon so we can help?” a gentle male voice is saying from somewhere close by.
My smile starts to slip again as my eyes dart around aimlessly, somehow taking everything in, but not able to focus on just any one thing.
So I seek out Vale once more, because he’s smart. So much smarter than me. He’ll figure it out. What it is, I don’t know. I just know he’ll make everything okay again.
“V-Vale…”
Why does he seem so far away?
Why do I feel so sad all of a sudden?
What weapon?
All the voices surrounding me seem to tune in and out, making it hard to keep track of who’s speaking. My chest squeezes, strangling the sounds still trying to escape from my throat.
This isn’t so funny anymore.
“How old is he?” someone asks. This one comes from further away. I’m assuming they’re referring to me.
“Nine, I think. Maybe ten now,” a choked female voice responds.
I know that one. Louise. Our foster mom.
What’s left of my smile flattens completely as I think, I’m twelve, you stupid bitch.
“Something’s never been right with that boy. I mean, look at him!” Her voice breaks on a sob. “Look what he did to my Rick!”
“Rick was bad,” I hear myself whisper, still not taking my blurry gaze off Vale’s blank face. “Very, very bad.”
A stillness sort of blankets the room at my softly spoken words.
Vale remains frozen.
I sense a body drawing close, big and looming, not unlike the one under me.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Aston,” I say absently, frowning. I sniff. “Like the car.”
He’s bleeding, a voice whispers in my head as I drop my gaze to Vale’s lap. His hands are bright red, like he’s been finger painting, but he’s way too old for that. Thirteen now, almost a whole year older than me…not that he looks it.
Neither of us look our ages.
“Are you hurt?” I hear myself ask, voice cracking.
Nothing.
“He’s bleeding,” I croak, finally turning to the man crouched over me. A metal plate across his breast pocket reads Ferris, J. My gaze drops to where his hand rests on his belt, just next to a gun and a baton. “My brother’s hurt. Can you help him?”
I lift my gaze to meet the pinched gaze of the officer. Thick, unruly brows dip low over his eyes. He has a pudgy nose and too-thin lips peeking out under his mustache.
“Yes, we can help him,” he says slowly, carefully. His gaze flits between mine. “But you have to be a good boy and drop the weapon first, okay?”
I frown, following his gaze to where something sharp and pointy, reflecting a blood-streaked face sticks out from my fist.
Oh.
My fist bursts open, and the long shard of mirror I’d been unknowingly gripping clangs to the floor. The cop hurries to sweep it out of reach while I hiss through my teeth and bring my bleeding, aching hand to my chest.
Owww.
“…come with us,” a warbly voice says.
I blink at the cop’s outstretched hand but ignore it. Instead, I drop my hands to Rick’s squishy chest and use it for leverage as I stand, grimacing when I almost slip on his slick skin. His chest weeps red, and his big gut is all ripped open, spilling blood all over the place.
That’s gonna suck cleaning up.
Realizing I’m still naked from the waist down, I quickly reach down with my good hand and pull up my underwear and pajama pants, cheeks heating when it occurs to me that everyone just saw my penis.
I loved these pajamas, I think sadly as I scrub my hand on the already stained fabric. They have monkeys on them. I’ve had them since I started living here when I was five. They don’t really fit me anymore—I’m a lot taller now—but they’re mine, all mine. Plus, they’re the only pajamas I have.
“Can I get new pajamas?” I say, wrinkling my nose when I realize my arms are splattered red. It’s getting all crusty. I can feel it under my nails. Gross. “Can I shower too? It’s all sticky.”
A beat passes before Officer Ferris says, “Yes. You can have all of that as long as you cooperate.”
Frowning, I glance up at him. Why wouldn’t I? I wonder silently. I’m always a good boy. It was Rick who was bad. Rick who—
A weird sort of roaring sound floods my ears, cutting off the thought.
Officer Ferris is staring at me, no, into me, like he’s trying to figure something out. I stare back until my eyes start to cross, not sure what else to do. People are always staring at me, and it’s not nice. Makes me feel weird.
His throat bobs and he nods, like he’s found whatever it was he was looking for. But he doesn’t seem too happy about it as he turns his head, dipping his chin to talk into his walkie-talkie.
Vale and I had walkie-talkies once. I stole money from Louise not long after Vale moved in. She was passed out in her recliner and never seemed to notice that the twenty-dollar bill from her wallet was missing. Probably thought she spent it on more of that powder stuff she was always melting on a spoon.
It was the first time I got Vale to smile. He doesn’t smile often, or very big when he does. And he smiled even less so back then. But faint that it was, it might as well have been as bright as the sun when I showed him what I got us.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Louise rushes out, her nasally voice cracking.
I glance over to find two officers pulling her arms behind her. I hear the snick of metal—handcuffs. Her red-rimmed eyes are wide as they dart around. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t—”
“Ma’am, you have the right to remain silent…”
I let their voices fade as I turn to face Officer Ferris once more. “She was bad too.”
He nods and glances down, lashes twitching over his now hidden eyes. Lifting a hand, he wiggles his fingers, gesturing at something behind me.
Hands grab my arms from behind, and I widen my eyes. “What—”
“You sure about this?” someone asks as I feel the distinct sensation of handcuffs hooking over my own wrists.
Officer Ferris swallows and meets my gaze once more. “Just a precaution,” he says tightly, thickly, like he’s not happy about this. “You understand, right? We’re just doing our jobs. It’s to keep everyone safe. We’ll get this all sorted out at the hospital.”
Hospital?
I stare at him, ignoring the way my heart is now pounding in my ears. “But you’ll help Vale, right? And the others too?”
Either I’m imagining it, or the room grows eerily quiet. “Others?”
“Their room is in the basement. They have to share ’cause they’re the youngest.”
“How many?”
“Three. T-try not to s-scare th-them,” I hear myself chatter as the world around me slants, wobbling, darkening…
A staticky sound fills the room, piercing through some of the weirdness. A voice rattles off numbers, calling for backup.
I don’t feel so good. Why are my hands cuffed? I was good, I was a good boy…
Officer Ferris tells me, “Yes. They’ll all be taken care of. You have my word.”
Inhaling deeply, I nod. “O-okay.” I feel my lips move, but my voice is lost to me.
Turning as far as the cops let me, I search for Vale. He’s still seated on the floor, staring at nothing. A woman—a female cop I didn’t see before—squats down next to him, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
He’s shivering so bad. Is it that cold? Maybe he’s coming down with something. Maybe that’s why he came into my room in the first place—maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
“Hey, Valey,” I say.
At first, nothing.
But then he blinks and lifts his gaze just enough to peek up at me through his lashes.
“I’ll s-see ya later, ’kay?” I say with a smile. It feels stiff—everything kind of does—and I’m not quite sure why. “Everything’s g-gonna b-be better n-now, you’ll see.”
His eyes widen and he throws his head side to side, his cheeks reddening. His mouth opens as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
“Let’s go, kid,” Officer Ferris says gruffly, just as the cop who handcuffed me steps into my line of sight, blocking Vale off right as his big, nearly black eyes start to fill with something that looks a lot like fear.
My face scrunches up with a scowl, but I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from throwing a fit. They’re going to help him, they’re going to help them all, just be good, that voice in my head assures me as they start guiding me out of the room and down the hall toward the steps. He’ll be okay.
I do hope they let us live together again though. Vale and me. Maybe if we tell them we’re actually brothers, they won’t separate us. I really, really don’t want to be separated from him. I feel twitchy at the thought.
Don’t they know he’s mine?
Who else will try to make him smile?
Who else will keep an eye on him while he sleeps?
The first floor is dark as we descend the steps, opening for us like a giant black pit. Broken up only by the flicker of red and blue lights coming in through the thick slats of blinds covering the windows downstairs.
“...wets the bed sometimes,” I hear myself saying, my voice muffled, like it’s coming from down a long tunnel. “He’s scared of thunderstorms too. Chloe can’t sleep without her giraffe. And Frankie’s allergic to peanuts…”
I keep rambling, words babbling out of me, teeth chattering. “Vale has nightmares sometimes. And he hates ketchup. Oh, and his food can’t touch. He also probably won’t talk to you. It’s why he has to stay with me. I’m the only person he likes.”
It’s cold, much colder than upstairs in that stifling, sweat-ripe bedroom. Cold enough that I’m surprised I don’t see my breath when I pucker my lips and blow out air.
The pilot light must be out again.
That or they forgot to pay the bill…again.
I can’t stop chattering.
Somewhere, a grim female voice says, “Mike, I think you’re gonna wanna see this.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Is that—are those…”
The growing distance combined with the roar filling my ears drowns out his horror, stealing whatever else is said.
Must’ve found the pictures. A choking sound bursts from my nose and lips.
No, not a choking sound.
A laugh.
A giggle.
Stupid Rick. Stupid, stupid Rick.
Officer Ferris mutters something into his walkie, just as his fingers on my shoulder tighten the faintest bit, holding me steady as we reach the bottom step.
It’s then, and only then, that the boy I left upstairs starts screaming.
Only then, as I fight against the cuffs and thrash against the too-big, too-rough hands dragging me out into the snowy, red and blue-lit night—my throat on fire as I scream raggedly for Vale—does the gravity of my actions and everything that came before begin sinking in.
What did I do?
What did I do?
What did I—
Comments
Dominique
So excited to read it!!
Allison G.
This Prologue got me the first time and damn it got me again 🥹🥹
Linds
My god what an opener! I’m hooked!
Rachel Schmidt
Well, I’m hooked.
