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On the road to nowhere	By : rottengrl Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > The Sex Pistols Views: 1099 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of The Sex Pistols. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-On the road to nowhere
- 1
The vast expanse of the cowboy landscape beckoned John. He stared gloomily at it from behind the tour bus window. Fat, warm, tires ate up miles of asphalt as the Pistols were dragged in the rolling tin can tour bus across the Southern Untied States.

The American Tour had been a disaster. It started off bad, tumbled quickly to worse, landing squarely at horrible.

Looking across the bus aisle, John’s eyes latched onto one of the major thorns currently pricking the Sex Pistols. Sid Vicious, the living circus, the human freak show, the walking cartoon. He slept soundly; sprawled across a bus seat, thumb in his mouth like a child, legs splayed open like a wanton whore.

John loathed the site of him. Once he had been delicious, devious and dirty. Now he was just dirty. Dirty and useless. Utterly, useless.

John turned his head back to the grime covered window. He and the driver were the only ones awake at this early hour. All around him, various seats held various snoring lumps. Steve and Paul had ducked out days ago, preferring the friendly skies to the stinking bus. He remained with Sid. Tied to Sid. Constantly pulled down, by Sid. A train clattered noisily next to the road. John longed to leap on that train. Let it take him away from the chaos. Away from this silly little tour. Away from the dirty little black haired boy, that used to be his lover.

Lover; what a silly, sickening, word. There was no love, just lust. Love was just lust, given a polish, and a spit, and a shine. Just lust wrapped up in a pretty happy bow. Just lust with all the edges taken away. It didn’t fool John. It was all the same; debased, animalistic, cruel, filthy, lust.

Now it was nothing. Sid was nothing. A shell of a shadow of his former self. John pressed his head hard against the cool glass.

“Useless,” he said under his breath.

“Fuckin, useless, twat.”

“Whose a useless twat?”

John smacked his head, against the glass, in shock, at the sound of Sid’s voice. Sid had slithered next to him without his noticing.

“You are.” John sneered at him in a hushed tone while rubbing his head where he had just smacked it.

Sid stretched his arms out and scratched at his filthy, greasy, hair.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Whatcha want?”

“I’m lonely.” Sid snuggled up next to John, pressing his warm body into John’s lanky frame. He looked up at John with his big, dopy, chocolate chip brown eyes.

“Too bad, get off me you twat.” John responded.

“Nope.” Sid snuggled in a little harder wrapping a thin arm around John’s equally thin waist.

John ignored him. Silently he breathed in Sid’s scent. The pungent mix of leather, peppermint schnapps, dirt and body odor. It intoxicated John, drawing him to this annoying man-boy.

Sid shivered a little. John looked down at his feet. A fuzzy, blue, blanket, with a rainbow stitched on it, sat forgotten on the floor. A relic, from a tacky gift shop shopping spree taken earlier in the tour. He pulled it up and spread it across both of them. Sid sighed happily. John grunted turning again to stare out the window.

For a moment, this tiny moment, he was with his Sid again. His Sid leaning on him happily, whispering to him, burrowing into him like a little animal. Not the fucking useless, drugged up, sex slave of Nancy Spungeon.

He felt Sid’s hand pressing on his thigh, but ignored it. The needy little bastard. Wanting John simply because he was a distraction from the monotony of the miles.

“Johnny,” Sid pleaded quietly.

John remained impassive. Not talking, looking or acknowledging Sid in any way.

Sid concentrated on running his hand over John’s thigh. He loved the twitch of John’s cock when he ran his hand near it. John’s scent, of Marijuana and beer, slipped around Sid’s nose. Nancy’s scent was so different. Vodka, perfume, and leather. In a strange way John’s scent was more delicate than hers. The same strange way John was more delicate than her.

Thoughts and memories slipped in and out of Sid’s head while his hand pressed firmer on John’s cock. It was much harder now. Throbbing, with a familiar tick, tick, tick against Sid’s fingers. John shifted a little in his seat. His face and hands, however, remained frozen in stillness.

Sid’s touches caressed John, begged John, teased John. He tried to keep the ice in his veins. He tried to keep the granite in his nerves. He turned his head staring into those lovely puddles of brown liquid. Ice and stone powerless against the warmth that radiated from them. Once again Sid had won.

John’s skinny, long fingers fumbled with the zipper of Sid’s leather pants. Sid eagerly helped by undoing them, pushing them over his ass and bunching them at his knees. He never, if possible, wore underwear.

Sid’s smallish cock was fully erect. John had always loved the absurd pride Sid took in his cock. He loved to wave it around showing it off. Not a shy one, his Sidney. Unlike John, who kept his body buried beneath layers of clothes. His cock tucked firmly away from prying eyes.

John leaned over, whispering in Sid’s ear.

“Now be a good boy and don’t make a fucking sound.”

Sid opened his eyes widely as John began stroking him. Sid’s grimy fingers digging into the seat cushions from the heat building in his gut and groin. He turned his head holding a lust filled gaze with John’s hard expressionless eyes.

Slimy pre-cum trickled from the head of Sid’s cock. John rubbed his thumb over it, using it to make his hand slicker and smoother as he pulled Sid’s flesh.

“Is this what you wanted Sidney?” John hissed at him, taunting him.

Sid smiled, a demented, childish smile. The heat was spreading now. He could feel it leaking into his arms and legs. He was getting close.

John watched Sid’s face. It was getting flushed. Sid never did last long. John’s hand stopped for a moment. Sid searched his face, pleading in his eyes for John to continue. John grinned, placing a finger into Sid’s mouth, he whispered a single instruction.

“Suck.”

Sid dutifully sucked on John’s finger covering it with spit. John pulled the finger out and quickly moved it down Sid’s body. John locked eyes once again with Sid as he rammed his finger deep into Sid’s ass. Sid cried out a little and then quickly bit down on his lip to suppress the noise.

“I told you not a fucking sound.” John growled.

Sid whimpered through his closed lips as John used his free hand to once again stroke Sid’s cock.

As his cock jerked up with John’s pulls Sid could feel John’s hot hand caressing him. As he fell backwards he could feel John’s finger slicing into his body. The heat gathered even quicker now, rushing the noise from his head, the vision from his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut , biting down even harder on his lip.

John‘s breath whispered hotly into his ear.

“What a pretty boy you are Sidney. What a pretty, fucking, slutty, little boy.”

John watched, fascinated, as his words and the orgasm hit Sid with full force. His hips bucked upwards. His head swung back and forth as if on a cruel hinge caught in the wind. His teeth broke into his lips cracked surface. Breaths in puffs and snorts struggled through his nose. Little tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Finally, cum, hot and creamy, poured from Sid’s cock covering John’s hand. Sid’s body shuddering violently as if electrocuted. Finally the come down. The body resetting. The movements getting smaller and smaller.

Sid recovered piece by piece. He barely felt John pulling out and away from his body. Didn’t register him wiping his hands on the rainbow blanket. Didn’t see him turning back to stone and ice. He recovered enough pieces of himself to pull his pants up. Turning to John he was surprised to see his head turned , once again, staring out of the window.

“I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.” Sid whispered into John’s ear.

“Then go find someone else. Leave me alone.”

The words came out flat, John’s head never turning from the window.

“But,” Sid started only to fall silent as John let out a large, annoyed, sigh. Quietly Sid pushed off the blanket, stood up and stumbled the few feet to the next open seat. He sat down heavily not even glancing back at John.

Once, when Sid had looked in John’s vivid blue eyes he had seen an invitation. An invitation to see into John’s vulnerable, dark, nasty, wounded, soul. He shared those wounds with him. Touched his body. Touched his heart. Together they sheltered each other from the hurtful, spiteful world outside.

Once, when John had looked into those welcoming brown eyes he had seen himself cast in glory. Sid had worshipped him, or at least the idea of who he thought he was. John loved the feeling. Loved being worshiped by such a pretty boy. Loved the joy in Sid’s smile. Loved the warmth in Sid’s eyes.

Now there was nothing. John eye’s and soul were closed off, distant. He protected himself by shutting down. How else could he face the pain? Sid’s eyes and heart worshiped at another alter. The church of the almighty needle and the almighty, god awful, girl.

“Once I was the idol you adored. Now you only need me when your bored.”

It was a lyric John spun in his head knowing it was too close to the bone to ever commit to ink and paper.

The miles tripped over themselves. The passengers snored along blissfully. Sid fell back into his blissful sleep. John searched the horizon, desperate for an escape.
- 1
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On the road to nowhere