This is all Oleander9999's fault, for sending me a link to a site advertising Mary Renault's books which also included a listing for La Cazzaria: The Book of the Prick, written in 1525 by Antonio Vignali. That listing is where this title comes from, as well as the whole warped idea.

That said, at least Oleander9999 didn't shirk the beta duties that fell to her for part one of this strange and horrible idea (yes, strange, horrible, and in two parts). Based on characters from Mary Renault's The Charioteer, this story is NC-17 slash (Bunny/Reg and Bunny/Ralph).

 

If Pricks Could Talk
by Big!Bad!Boo, Bunny's favorite appendage

 

He hit us! I can't control my excitement.

The orderly boy is quite attractive, almost as we've imagined Ralph would have looked before he went to sea. Those big, innocent grey eyes, but now they're flashing with rage -- oh my! I'm so disappointed when that anger turns into horror at what he's done.

Bunny laughs and turns away, not even wiping his mouth. Oh, that's right, he has to keep his hand hidden. He can hardly walk, because of me.

We've dreamt of Ralph hitting us -- all that rough stuff, he's strong enough, despite being so lean. We've hinted about it, God knows, and taunted that if we'd been under him in that school, he would have caned us. But the idea of hitting Bunny seems to appall him, so the best we can get is being held down, fucked hard and long. Just the memory of those nights can always make me sit up, thinking about Ralph unleashing all that power. Damn, I'm just getting even more excited right now, thinking about the sweat running down his neck and the grunts as he slams into Bunny...

I love it whenever a big, butch one hurts Bunny just right -- a twisted arm, a slam into a wall. Bunny likes it, too, or he wouldn't provoke them. We thought Ralph would be the One who'd give us both everything we need. He had that simmering rage, just below the surface. It wasn't going to go away; he was stuck on land and didn't want to be there. Didn't want to be with us, we knew that, too -- but he needed what we could give him, needed it badly while he learned to use what was left of his hand and studied code breaking.

Ralph needed to believe he could still be independent. We used that, driving him when he couldn't do it himself, taking him off base and out with a fun crowd. Ralph needed cheering up, too, after losing his ship. But most of all, Ralph needed release, and we both love giving it to him. Bunny loves bending over for him, and I love it, too, when Ralph is driving into him and reaches a hand forward to close over me, slick with spit. He gives me friction and heat until I burst, and Bunny cries out.

But this boy, the orderly -- he's given us what we've both wanted for so long now, and the blood Bunny tastes in his mouth just makes me harder. As Bunny stumbles toward the car, his mocking laughter has dried up. He's just as needy as I am, damn it all. Wanking off in the car isn't going to be enough, not now. Not with the memory of that punch.

"Here, mate, what's happened to you?" We're stopped by a patient, a man with one arm in a cast. He has sad, puppy-dog eyes and pale, ginger-colored hair. Bunny, who knows how to play a situation, sways a bit and the man puts his good arm around our shoulders. "Are you hurt? Let me take a look."

He walks us into the lavatory, Bunny leaning heavily on him. There's someone there cleaning, so the chap detours with us into the bathing room, a dim cubicle. Bunny manages to pull the door behind them and latch it, my clever boy. Then Bunny sits down on the wood covering the tub, pretending to be weak, one hand pressing at his temple, as the gingery man fusses with wetting a towel under the taps. When he turns, holding out the cloth, Bunny sways again. It still works, and the chap comes closer, right up next to us, between Bunny's legs, really. When the chap applies the cloth to Bunny's mouth, he moans breathily.

At this point I'm screaming for attention, but Bunny just starts talking!

"Thank you, you've been so very kind. I feel much better already." He looks up and bats his eyes, but this one's not queer like us. Still, he's sensing something, for he tries to back away, but Bunny has wrapped one arm around the chap's waist, holding him still.

"S'all right. Can't have you bleeding on your uniform, that's all." Whatever questions he's meant to ask are forgotten. His eyes are wide as he stares down at us. Bunny delicately licks at the split in his lip, then pretends to swoon forward, managing to rub his cheek over the chap's package.

He's young and alive; I'm not surprised when his prick sits up and takes notice, but the chap certainly is. A bit confused, both of them, about what they want. But Bunny knows. So how about some bloody attention for me, Bunny?

"Ohhh," Bunny moans, but that's just so he can blow hot breath on that other prick. Then he finally releases the chap and pushes back, one hand temptingly close to the chap's family jewels. But the man excuses it, thinking Bunny's dizzy and off his head. Or, perhaps, he likes it. His prick certainly does.

"You're the Good Samaritan, that's what you are," Bunny says so sincerely I almost believe it, too. "My hero..." He looks up through his lashes, and the man's face is very red. When Bunny's hand moves back to cup his prick, the chap looks away, but he doesn't say anything to stop us. "Please," Bunny says. "Let me..."

Bunny expertly opens his trousers and the chap's nice big prick springs free, half-hard already. Then Bunny takes it in his mouth, salty-fresh, and it firms right up. Still not as hard as me, but we're getting somewhere now. Oh, if only this one would push us away, hit Bunny -- even kick him. I'd explode.

But the chap doesn't protest one bit. He mumbles something about a man having needs, and then it's all short, sharp breaths and moans.

Bunny is working on him, concentrating. Cocksucker loves being on his knees. But I'm practically jumping up and down for attention, and I've been waiting a long time. Finally Bunny reaches down and lets me out, gives me a few quick rubs, and

Ohh, about time. Oh... uh... Yes. Yes! Damn that's good.

The gingery man explodes with a sharp cry, then backs away from us. He can only take one step, really, before he hits the wall, and then he slides down as if his knees have melted. He's on his arse, and Bunny's wiping blood and cum off on that towel. Both ignore the mess I've made on the chap's shoes. Button, zip and I'm ready for a nap. Bunny has to get us home, of course, or at least to the car so he can join me.

Mmmm, that was fun. One admittedly long drive, and we get a quickie and our revenge on Ralph, too. Just the thought of that makes me stir a bit, but I can wait. Oh, yes, I'll be ready when Mr. Lanyon comes crawling back, ready to do what we need.

 

If Pricks Could Talk Part Two: Because a Bad Idea always goes on too long
still by Big!Bad!Boo

 

As soon as we hear his voice, I jump to attention. He's come back to us!

"May I come in?"

Bunny swings the door wide and Ralph enters our room. Bunny is nervous, but that undercurrent of controlled rage is what I've always loved best about Ralph.

But something is wrong -- Ralph always carries that tightly-leashed anger, but now there's pain overwhelming it. I settle down, frankly disappointed. But Bunny seems to want something else from Ralph tonight, or he's playing a dangerous game. Perhaps the night won't be a total loss.

"Sit down, I'll get you a drink. You look terrible."

Ralph ignores him and walks to the window, staring out at the dark courtyard through a crack in the blackout curtain. There's nothing to see -- he knows that as well as we do.

Bunny comes up behind him, holding a glass of gin. He puts a hand on Ralph's shoulder and says his name. We can feel that Ralph is tense, almost vibrating, and we know him well enough to go easy on physical contact. Instead, Bunny's using the voice that first got Ralph in our bed -- none of that girlish nonsense, just sensitive understanding laid on thick. "Is there already trouble in paradise? You can tell me."

Ralph takes a pull at his glass, still pretending to look outside. "I'd rather..." His voice wavers, but then he swallows and says, "I can't talk about him, Boo."

That name melts us both, of course, and Bunny moves closer and begins kneading Ralph's shoulder. Ralph's head drops back, eyes closed, mouth tight. He grates out, "Please don't--"

"You came to me, Ralph, and you just admitted it wasn't for talk. Did that boy ever give you what you need? Does he even know--"

"Bunny--" Ralph turns to face us as they both speak, and Bunny kisses him. It begins so gently I'm bored un-stiff, but when Ralph tries to pull away and Bunny bites at his mouth, things get interesting at last.

One long, vicious kiss later Ralph's glass is in pieces on the floor and we're pressed up against the wall. Ralph's hands are shaking as they pin Bunny's wrists, and he looks distraught as he insists, "I didn't come for this."

"Of course you did," Bunny says with a laugh, and Ralph slams us harder into the wall. I shiver with delight. "You don't talk out problems, darling, we fuck them out, just like this." Bunny dives in again, and Ralph gives back the way he always has, skillful and oh-so hot. Soon I'm far too confined and asking to be let loose. Bunny ignores me, though, as Ralph again breaks away and pulls back.

"No. I..." Ralph drops Bunny's hands, then. With the saddest eyes, he begins, "Laurie..." He cuts himself off and turns to leave. No!

Bunny is listening. Well, he always listens to me, truly. He knows he must stop Ralph, and calls after him, "Did he leave you for his conchie?"

Ralph turns back, but he doesn't look hurt -- oh, damn. Bunny wasn't supposed to know that!

"How did you hear about him?" Ralph asks, his voice calm and terrible.

"I--" Bunny without words. I'd be noting the date, but instead I'm watching Ralph's eyes as they flood with blood lust. We're in for it now. "Ralph, you--" Bunny ducks the first swing, before Ralph's hands close on his biceps, pulling him back and preventing further movement. "I didn't--"

"You didn't mean to read my journal?" Slam, his right fist hits Bunny in the gut. Ohhh, yes. "Or you didn't intend to lie to that boy, pretending to be me?" He draws back his fist to hit us again, but what's Bunny doing?

Bunny's right fist smacks into Ralph's face, and everything stops for an instant. Then, with fierce joy in his eyes, Ralph shakes off the blow and really lets go. I've... we've longed for this!

Ralph's right hand connects with Bunny's temple and we're both dizzy as he switches to body blows. Bunny covers his face, now, making no further attempt to fight back. Ralph keeps on, sharp jabs to the ribs, his face flushed and every blow so perfect. We stumble back against the wall, and it's impossible to stay upright. Bunny sinks down and whimpers a bit. I can't contain myself much longer--

Ralph hits us again, and I explode at last, making Bunny moan. For some reason, Ralph stops immediately.

He stands over us panting, looking at Bunny crying. I'm -- well, I'm really sleepy, truthfully. Ralph's face changes as he stares down, then it goes quite green and he's out the door. Soon I hear water running down on the half-landing, but he isn't washing off Bunny's blood. Ralph is retching, and it goes on for a long time.

Bunny stays curled on the floor, the excitement over and the pain intensifying. It's so bad I can't drop off to sleep.

When Ralph finally comes back, he's dead-white and shaking. He throws a damp towel at Bunny.

"Clean yourself up, for God's sake." Bunny wipes his face, first, then opens his trousers for the mess I made. Ralph is turned away, staring at a picture he always hated. "I'll drive you to the base. They'd ask too many questions here in town, when it's quite obvious you stumbled in the blackout again."

"Yes, that's what happened," Bunny croaks, carefully tucking me away again.

Ralph helps us up, locks the door and nearly carries Bunny down the stairs. Even when he's unwilling, as he obviously is now, Ralph's touch makes me stir happily. Bunny laughs, just one sharp sound that echoes in the stairwell.

Ralph doesn't ask why.

 

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