The First Step: Less Than Zero Fic
Author: Bitterfig
Title: The First Step
Fandom: Less Than Zero
Pairing: Rip/Julian
Summary: Julian takes the first steps on his downward spiral (with a little encouragement from Rip).
Beta Reader: Fedink
Rating: R
Contains: Drug use, dubious consent, sexual content, foot fetishism.
Author’s Note: Set a few weeks before the film (Julian only owes Rip $40,000).
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same.
The First Step
Julian was in bad shape—sweating profusely, visibly trembling—when he showed up at Rip’s door. Rip, who was uncharacteristically alone, graciously invited him in.
“You’ve got to give me something,” Julian said the minute the door closed. It was half demand, half plea. Rip smiled, put an arm around him.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Rip cooed. “Whatever you need, but you’re going to have to give me a little something in return.”
“I’m fucked,” Julian said, growing more and more agitated. “I’ve got nothing. My dad’s cut me off. This time he means it. I don’t have any money. I can’t get any like this. Please, Rip, you’ve got to give me something. I’m sick. If I can just get myself straightened out I can pay you back. I’ll give you everything I owe you and more, I swear.”
“Julian.”
“I swear on my fucking mother’s grave. I mean it, Rip. Just do this for me this one time.”
“Breathe.”
On command, Julian gasped for breath and started hyperventilating. He collapsed onto the floor begging “Please, Rip. Please help me.”
Rip stroked his tousled, dark hair. His manner was gentle, soothing, but his eyes were never less than predatory.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Rip said. “I’ll help you. I’ll hook you up.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“I just want one thing from you, one little thing.” Rip said. He took a set of works from a drawer, started filling a syringe from a vial of heroin.
“Anything,” Julian said. He was practically salivating, shaking all over, his eyes fixed on the needle. “I swear. I will do anything you want.”
“All I want,” Rip said calmly, “is to give you the shot.”
“That’s it?” Julian asked, laughing nervously. “That’s all you want?”
“That’s all I want.”
“Do it then. Fucking do it with my blessing.” Frantically Julian started rolling up his sleeve. Rip shook his head, tapping the syringe to get out the air bubbles.
“Not in your arm,” he said.
Julian got nervous at that.
“Where then?” He asked. His voice was shaking as much as his body. Rip sat down beside him, laid the syringe on the carpet.
“Your foot. Is that okay? I promise it won’t hurt.”
“Uh yeah, I guess that’s okay. No big deal. Let me take my shoe off….”
“I’ll do it.”
He took Julian’s foot in his hands. Julian was wearing soft black ballet-style slippers that strapped over his socks.
“Nice,” Rip said. Julian pulled his foot away.
“This is getting kind of weird, Rip,” he said.
“Do you want the shot, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Julian said desperately, fighting back tears and panic.
“Then let me give it to you.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
Once again Rip took Julian’s foot, cradled it to his chest, stroking the shoe before he slid it off. He picked it up, held it over his mouth and nose inhaling deeply. Julian fidgeted, twitching nervously, but said nothing. By now he had a pretty good idea what Rip wanted from him and he wasn’t going to stand in the way so long as his fix was the end result. Still, he was frightened and revolted.
Rip laid the shoe aside, returning his attention to Julian’s foot, turning it over in his hands, pressing it to his cheek, stroking it. He ran a hand up Julian’s calf then slid his fingers between Julian’s sock and his skin. Caressing the curve of Julian’s heel, then his instep, Rip drew the sock down and off, interlacing his fingers with Julian’s toes as it fell to the floor.
“Can I have the shot now?” Julian asked.
“Shhhh.” Rip said and buried his face against Julian’s instep, one hand cradling the back of his foot, the other on his calf beneath the pant leg.
“Please,” Julian begged. He was crying now, shaking harder than ever. “Please.” Rip licked his instep languidly, began nibbling on the tips of his toes. “Please, Rip.”
Julian slid off his other shoe, managed to pull off his sock. He put his bare foot on Rip’s lap, against his crotch, finding the bulge of his hard on. Tears and snot running down his face Julian began kneading and caressing in rhythm as Rip sucked the toes of his other foot.
Gasping, Rip sucked harder, thrusting as much as he could of Julian’s foot into his mouth, grinding his hips against the other foot, finally jerking in orgasm, his teeth leaving blue half moons on Julian’s foot.
When it was over, Julian pulled away, curled up on the floor in a fetal position.
“Don’t be upset,” Rip said, stroking his ankle. “I’ll give you your shot now. Here, you’ve got a vein right here. I won’t even need to tie you off. It’ll just be a pinch….” He slid the needle in, pushed down the plunger, and loosed the drugs into Julian’s bloodstream.
When the heroin hit him Julian sat up, threw both arms around Rip’s neck holding on for dear life, any sense of violation wiped away by narcotic ecstasy.
Rip stroked his cheek.
“You were great, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m going to hate sharing you.”
He would too, but Julian owed him $40,000. That was a lot of money and while sugar was sweet, business was business. Julian had only taken the first step towards paying his debt.
Title: The First Step
Fandom: Less Than Zero
Pairing: Rip/Julian
Summary: Julian takes the first steps on his downward spiral (with a little encouragement from Rip).
Beta Reader: Fedink
Rating: R
Contains: Drug use, dubious consent, sexual content, foot fetishism.
Author’s Note: Set a few weeks before the film (Julian only owes Rip $40,000).
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same.
Julian was in bad shape—sweating profusely, visibly trembling—when he showed up at Rip’s door. Rip, who was uncharacteristically alone, graciously invited him in.
“You’ve got to give me something,” Julian said the minute the door closed. It was half demand, half plea. Rip smiled, put an arm around him.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Rip cooed. “Whatever you need, but you’re going to have to give me a little something in return.”
“I’m fucked,” Julian said, growing more and more agitated. “I’ve got nothing. My dad’s cut me off. This time he means it. I don’t have any money. I can’t get any like this. Please, Rip, you’ve got to give me something. I’m sick. If I can just get myself straightened out I can pay you back. I’ll give you everything I owe you and more, I swear.”
“Julian.”
“I swear on my fucking mother’s grave. I mean it, Rip. Just do this for me this one time.”
“Breathe.”
On command, Julian gasped for breath and started hyperventilating. He collapsed onto the floor begging “Please, Rip. Please help me.”
Rip stroked his tousled, dark hair. His manner was gentle, soothing, but his eyes were never less than predatory.
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Rip said. “I’ll help you. I’ll hook you up.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“I just want one thing from you, one little thing.” Rip said. He took a set of works from a drawer, started filling a syringe from a vial of heroin.
“Anything,” Julian said. He was practically salivating, shaking all over, his eyes fixed on the needle. “I swear. I will do anything you want.”
“All I want,” Rip said calmly, “is to give you the shot.”
“That’s it?” Julian asked, laughing nervously. “That’s all you want?”
“That’s all I want.”
“Do it then. Fucking do it with my blessing.” Frantically Julian started rolling up his sleeve. Rip shook his head, tapping the syringe to get out the air bubbles.
“Not in your arm,” he said.
Julian got nervous at that.
“Where then?” He asked. His voice was shaking as much as his body. Rip sat down beside him, laid the syringe on the carpet.
“Your foot. Is that okay? I promise it won’t hurt.”
“Uh yeah, I guess that’s okay. No big deal. Let me take my shoe off….”
“I’ll do it.”
He took Julian’s foot in his hands. Julian was wearing soft black ballet-style slippers that strapped over his socks.
“Nice,” Rip said. Julian pulled his foot away.
“This is getting kind of weird, Rip,” he said.
“Do you want the shot, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Julian said desperately, fighting back tears and panic.
“Then let me give it to you.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
Once again Rip took Julian’s foot, cradled it to his chest, stroking the shoe before he slid it off. He picked it up, held it over his mouth and nose inhaling deeply. Julian fidgeted, twitching nervously, but said nothing. By now he had a pretty good idea what Rip wanted from him and he wasn’t going to stand in the way so long as his fix was the end result. Still, he was frightened and revolted.
Rip laid the shoe aside, returning his attention to Julian’s foot, turning it over in his hands, pressing it to his cheek, stroking it. He ran a hand up Julian’s calf then slid his fingers between Julian’s sock and his skin. Caressing the curve of Julian’s heel, then his instep, Rip drew the sock down and off, interlacing his fingers with Julian’s toes as it fell to the floor.
“Can I have the shot now?” Julian asked.
“Shhhh.” Rip said and buried his face against Julian’s instep, one hand cradling the back of his foot, the other on his calf beneath the pant leg.
“Please,” Julian begged. He was crying now, shaking harder than ever. “Please.” Rip licked his instep languidly, began nibbling on the tips of his toes. “Please, Rip.”
Julian slid off his other shoe, managed to pull off his sock. He put his bare foot on Rip’s lap, against his crotch, finding the bulge of his hard on. Tears and snot running down his face Julian began kneading and caressing in rhythm as Rip sucked the toes of his other foot.
Gasping, Rip sucked harder, thrusting as much as he could of Julian’s foot into his mouth, grinding his hips against the other foot, finally jerking in orgasm, his teeth leaving blue half moons on Julian’s foot.
When it was over, Julian pulled away, curled up on the floor in a fetal position.
“Don’t be upset,” Rip said, stroking his ankle. “I’ll give you your shot now. Here, you’ve got a vein right here. I won’t even need to tie you off. It’ll just be a pinch….” He slid the needle in, pushed down the plunger, and loosed the drugs into Julian’s bloodstream.
When the heroin hit him Julian sat up, threw both arms around Rip’s neck holding on for dear life, any sense of violation wiped away by narcotic ecstasy.
Rip stroked his cheek.
“You were great, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m going to hate sharing you.”
He would too, but Julian owed him $40,000. That was a lot of money and while sugar was sweet, business was business. Julian had only taken the first step towards paying his debt.