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St. Andrews' Saints	By : limonize Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1156 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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NC-17, BDSM
A historical AU of Darren and Daniel attending an uppercrust boarding school in wartime Britain.

I could tell immediately that the new one was in for a hard go of it: He was not all that tall, and of startingly pale features, even among the bluebloods among us, destined for Oxford and Cambridge. He looked a little…well…sissy or girly-like. He'd started in the middle of the trimester and you could tell that even though his family had some money – they had to in order to be able to afford to send him here to St. Andrew's Boys Academy in the first place - they had to be on the low end of the spectrum. He did not appear to "talk the talk" or "walk the walk" of Britain's most established from carefully bred lineage. Unless he could do a bang-up job on the rugby field or rowing team – he was most certainly destined for a rough time. I was already in fifth form, so I had weathered the worst of it; he however, was only
fourth. It could be a long stretch for him, depending on who he had to
fag for, it could be bad, or it could be more than bad. All the younger boys had to fag for the senior boys; there was no way around it.

I hated the Academy. And probably we all did, because until you got to be a fifth former, the rules were iron-clad, and you were bullied by the older boys, particularly the prefects, who wielded their power with a certain pent-up glee. The special emblems on their blazers that signified their special ranking, were usually the last thing you noticed looking up, before a cane or a well-whittled birch branch landed across your arse from another prefect, making you wonder if you were seeing stinging, hot stars right before your eyes.

They always found excuses to bully and discipline.

We lined up for assembly, as we had every day since the school had begun session after the two-week summer holiday. Most of our parents were well and glad to be rid of us since they had wartime on their minds, extra work to deal with…their food rations sadly limited. What with rations being made worse all the time, as Hitler continued to advance. We were soon marching in silently into the auditorium to hear the headmaster address us for new news within and sometimes outside the Academy. He would also include a review of our sins from the previous day at the end of the assembly, just to make us all shiver harder in dread if somehow we had "gone astray from the fine traditions" of St. Andrews.

Everyone sneeked a peek at the new, fourth form boy for now, the third day in a row. There were only four hundred of us in the entire school, so you had really had nowhere to hide The boys whom trouble seemed to follow, were as usual ordered to the front of the assembly where they had to stand in shame, because they had let down their form in some capacity or another. They would have to make amends to both the headmaster, and their formmasters. The new small lad looked as if the spectacle beyond the dais had shrunk him two inches. Every now and again, the headmaster would glance in his direction, causing an even more nervous expression to appear on his face..

I reckon the new boy wouldn't even make it back to his dorm without someone trying to trip him on the sly. But to my surprise, the Headmaster escorted him personally back after he had dismissed us back to class.. When classes were done, and I got back to my room, I was shocked to discover the new one was already bunked with me.

"Did Headmaster bring you here?" I demanded, ready to throw the little toad out in a heartbeat if he didn't have the proper authority to be there.

"Yes. He said I would be with you, and that you should take me under your wing," he explained matter-of-factly, staring at me with a most curious, innocent expression.

"I shan't be your mother hen then, shall I! - you'd better get that through your skull rather quickly, I should say!" I warned.

"Fine. I'm relaying to you what I was told to impart," he answered, looking nonetheless quite wounded at my response.

"Have you been made anyone's fag?" I quickly asked, wanting to know who might already be claiming some servitude from him. 'Fags' were the older boys' personal servants. It was actually a honour to fag. Without fagging, you didn't garner much of a social life or get to be with the others. The fags tended to stick together.

"Master Black said if I was any good at cricket, he wanted me along."

"You'd best avoid Black. He'll whip you at any excuse," I warned.

"Thank you, sir," he replied respectfully.

"Indeed, well, I'm not a sixth-former yet. You can call me Master Jones, or Daniel when the other boys aren't around…" I explained, satisfied that the lad was respectful.

"I'm Darren," he said offering his hand.

I hesitated, then gripped it hard to transfer some of my pluck to him. He looked like he would need every bit of it. He returned the grip weakly, but then firmed up a little, trying not to wince from my grip. I was already regretting that he was going to lower my status by association. But even as I was thinking about how to best avoid him when not in our room, I found myself getting caught up in the uncommon blue of his rather remarkable eyes.

~ ~ ~

It felt odd to have another boy in my room, since I had not had anyone since the beginning of the year. In error, I had assumed that the situation would continue until the end of the term. It was true, that I had felt somewhat lonely. But then the lads down the hall would always come and visit anyway. And the way they complained about their bunkmates and told me how lucky I was…I had more of less gotten used to it and was well resigned.

Now someone else was there. Some odd young boy who surely would become a sweet to one of the older boys. Sucked and chewed on, and then disposed of, for a newer, sweeter one. Not likely held dear to anyone's pity..

"Darren!" I whispered in the dark.

"Yes?" came back the high, soft voice.

"Are you any good at rugby?"

"Not really…" came the answer.

Just as I'd feared.

"What *can* you do a good showing at, then? Come on, you have to do a good show at something now!"

"I can sing quite well," he answered.

"Sing?? What sort of singing?" I demanded impatiently.

"Choir. I'm good at choir…"

"You're a God's worshipper?"

"I don't know. I don't pray extra…I just like singing."

"It won't make you popular, here," I advised.

"What do you think I should do?"

"Well, it's your problem for now. I'll try to think of something, but if you can't do rugby…" I reflected skeptically.

"Thank you, sir, and good night."

He'd already forgotten that I'd told him he could call me Master Jones, as the other boys did.

"Master Jones – say it!"

"Good night, Master Jones," he corrected himself, speaking softly. "Thank you."

~ ~ ~

Surely in the blackest middle of the night, a terribly loud crash awoke me. Then the sound of a cry. I looked across in the moonlight. Darren had fallen out of the top bunk onto the floor. I got up and turned the lamp on, but he quickly shied from the light holding his hand up to shield himself from it.

"Sh-sh-sh!" I warned. "You'll wake the other boys…"

"Please don't tell them I fell…" he begged, rubbing his arse. No doubt it hurt, from such an ungracious landing.

"Do you want me to take a look?" I volunteered.

He rolled onto his side, and pulled his pajamas down a few inches. His white skin looked red, but not as red as a boy who has been spanked or caned.

"Nothing much, really," I commented.

His pale face reddened with embarassment. "You won't tell them!" he pleaded again.

"Why should I tell them? None of their business, is it?"

He nodded his head.

"D'you mind if I sleep on the floor?" he asked cautiously. "I am afraid I might fall asleep and fall out again!"

"I do not think I could endure such a racket twice in one night, no...so, all right...kust make sure you stay quiet and avoid my bed…"

"Thank you Master Daniel, sir," he answered gratefully.

I sighed. This new fellow was going to be a challenge to bring along, all right.

~ ~ ~

TBC
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St. Andrews' Saints