“I hate you I hate you I hate you!” He yelled, his hands unclenching and grabbing at the sides of his head, his eyes squeezing shut with the force of his outburst. “Why don’t you just die?”
“I’m sure we can arrange that for you.”
Sherlock’s eyes shot open and his eyes met the malicious gaze of Victor Trevor in the mirror. Beside him stood his partner in crime, Sebastian Wilkes, who’s lips were twisted in a parody of a smile. Sherlock swallowed heavily, his anger at himself forgotten in the writhing panic that had set in at the sight of the two older boys. Older and bigger.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to deepen his voice and keep it steady, trying not to show how scared he was. He turned around to face them, putting his back to the mirror and the wall it hung on.
“Oh, we decided that after that performance today, you might need a little…how did you say it, Vic?” Wilkes’s rough voice piped up.
Victor’s lips twitched in amusement. “Negative reinforcement.” They stepped forwards simultaneously, Sebastian moving towards Sherlock’s right and Victor to his left, making sure to leave no room for him to try and run past them.
Sherlock stood frozen for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between the two boys and the locker room door, trying to calculate the probability of escape. He made a split second decision when Sebastian finally got within swinging distance and threw a punch at him; he ducked under the fist and lunged to the right, behind Sebastian’s body and away from Victor’s hands. He ran for the door, and had nearly made it when he felt a hand close around the neck of his shirt and yank him back. His legs flew out from under him and he went crashing towards the ground, his back smacking into the cold tiles.
“You little shit,” Sebastian growled at him, his fist coming down in the center of Sherlock’s stomach.
“Oof,” He said as all the air was pushed from his lungs. Sebastian punched him one more time in the ribs before yanking him up off the floor to press him against the wall, his forearm against the smaller boy’s throat.
“You think you can get away with something like that, and not get punished?” Sebastian’s voice was quiet in Sherlock’s ear.
Sherlock sneered and once he got his breath back he said, “I think that your mother is cheating on your father with the cook- oh, that’s awkward. Your cook is female, isn’t she?” His eyes stared forwards defiantly.
Sebastian’s growl of anger echoed off of the locker room walls. “Stop that, you lying piece of shit! That’s a lie, and you know it! You’re just a freak, Holmes, so stop trying to be something you’re not!” He yanked himself back and swung his fist around to punch Sherlock in the face. Sherlock ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the eye, but the fist glanced off the side of his head and caused it to smack backwards into the hard tile wall.
He hissed out a breath and crouched down, holding his head in his hands. Sebastian glared at him before stepping backwards. “He’s all yours, Vic. Have fun.”
“Hey Sebastian, I wouldn’t be too upset; your dad’s been too busy fucking the gardener to notice.” Sherlock spat out, his vision still too blurry to really see anything, and his head throbbing like crazy. Wilkes’s only response was, “Fuck you, you fucking fairy, my dad ain’t no poofter! I’m leaving Vic, you can do this on your own.” Before Sherlock heard the retreating footsteps of Sebastian Wilkes leave the locker room and shut the door behind him. Which left him alone with Victor. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief; generally, it was Sebastian who was the worst during his beatings. Victor’s job was mostly just holding him in place while Sebastian got his anger and insecurities out by pummeling him with his meaty fists. So Sherlock felt like he could relax, at least a little, with Victor the only one left.
“So is that what you like, Freak? You a shirt lifter? You a little fairy Freak? Hmm?” Victor’s soft voice came closer and closer, his tone dark. As Sherlock’s vision cleared (although his head still throbbed) he could see Victor fiddling with his belt. Why was he doing that?
His eyes went wide as he realized what that meant, what exactly it was that Victor was doing. His body began to shake. No, it couldn’t be…but Victor only held him down! He never actually hurt him, and he certainly never did…no. Just no.
“You like it up the arse, like a fucking ponce, like a poofter, Holmes? You a little cock slut? You like to have your smart mouth all pretty and pink, wrapped around a man’s cock, letting him fuck your face? Is that how you like it?” Victor unzipped his trousers and popped the button from its hole.
“N-no, no I don’t. Victor, I don’t like it like that, I don’t want…Victor, please, don’t –” Sherlock stuttered, the words trying to get out in one big rush, one big scream of NO, NO I DO NOT WANT THAT, but he was shaking too badly to be able to say it properly.
Victor was now pulling his cock from his briefs, the head glistening and an ugly shade of dark purple, the colour of a new bruise. His hand fisted over the shaft as he held it there, erect, and stared with his green eyes at the trembling boy in front of him. His lips curled up in a smile, and he laughed. “What, nothing smart to say now? No ‘Your mother fucked your uncle’ or ‘your father is a drunk’? Come on, say it, I know you want to.”
Sherlock let out a high pitched whining sound, his eyes having taken one glance at Victor’s cock before squeezing shut in denial. “No, please…” He whispered, shaking his head back and forth forcefully.
Victor’s cruel laugh rang out again. “Please what? Please stick my cock into that pretty mouth of yours? Please fuck your tight virgin arse? My, what nice manners for a cock slut. Is that what they teach you, those fancy private tutors your Mummy got for you when you were younger?” He took several steps closer until he was only about a foot away from Sherlock. “Was she awfully disappointed, when she found out? Did she get mad at you, when she learned you were a little cock slut, wanting it up the arse like a good little poofter? Is that why she made you come to this school? This school with the rest of us scum?” He reached out a hand and shoved Sherlock backwards against the wall, before pushing him down to his knees. His hand made a fist in Sherlock’s curls and tugged sharply. “That’s what you think of us, isn’t it? You with your fancy words and your perfect grades, you and that brother of yours think you’re so much better than we are, you think you don’t belong in this dump with the rest of us normal, average blokes. Well let me tell you something, Freak,”
Sherlock whimpered, his head turned as far to the right as it would go, his eyes still squeezed shut tight, like if he kept them shut and didn’t look, it would turn out to be a nightmare, just a bad dream. Like if he kept them shut, he wouldn’t have to face what was about to happen.
Victor pushed his hand over his cock and moved even closer to the smaller boy’s face. “The truth is you are scum; the truth is you are no better than the rest of us. And I’m gonna prove it, by making you take my cock down your throat like the common whore you are, and you know what Holmes?” Victor pulled Sherlock’s curls until his head was turned up, and he used his thumb to push the boy’s bruised eyes open. “You know what? You are gonna love it.” He grinned down at the brunette, and giggled when Sherlock tried to force his head away, shaking it back and forth in denial, the fear of what was about to happen clear as day in his eyes.
“Oh hell yes you are. Freak’s always do.” Victor whispered, and thrust his cock forwards towards the brunette’s face, letting the head of slide across one of his cheeks, leaving a sticky gleaming trail in it’s wake. Sherlock let out a whimper at the contact, his eyes once again squeezing shut. Victor smirked, and just as he was about to force the head of his cock past Sherlock’s lips, the voice of the Phys. Ed. Teacher rang out through the closed doorway and into the locker room.