Hello! This is my first time posting a story on this site. It is also the first song fic I have done. It's sort of a prequel to a story I want to do. Please read and review! Thanks.

Warning: Slash, mentions of abuse (more mental than physical), and...umm....I think there's a bad word in there, lol

I do NOT own the song, it's called Righteously and it belongs to Lucinda Williams. XD


You don't have to prove

Your manhood to me constantly

I know you're the man, can't you see?

I love you righteously

I cringed as my back slammed into the cold metal of my locker, the lock sticking into the small of my back uncomfortably. Lips shoved roughly against mine, kissing me hard and fast. I knew this kiss, I was used to this. I didn't stop my hands from looping up and around Dalton's neck, while he continued his harsh punishment to my mouth.

His tongue flicked out and pushed its way into my mouth. He was proving his dominance, as always. Not that it mattered to me; I knew he was the 'guy' in this 'relationship.'


Why you wanna dis me?

After the way you been kissin' me

After those pretty things you say

And the love we made today

"Where in the hell were you today?" the blonde spit. He was obviously pissed with me.

"I had tutoring," I replied, hoping I seemed nonchalant as I played with one of the black wrist bands I always wore.

"Tutoring?" Dalton laughed. "Why do you need tutoring, Zander? I didn't realize I was screwing an idiot."

My shoulders hunched, I didn't know why he was so gentle and loving one moment and the next he was so bitter and cold towards me. But it was just another thing I had to get used to with him.

"I don't need tutoring, Dalton. I am a tutor. I was helping some kid in my math class, he offered to pay me if I could help him pass." It was true; he was offering good money for my help even though he hated me. Everyone hated me nowadays.

"Ha-ha, what are you now? Are you a poor, little, welfare child, Zander? Hmmm?" His blue eyes were cruel as he pushed a hand through his messy blonde hair. I couldn't ignore the fact that he was beautiful, even in his anger.

"Leave it alone, Dalton," I stated in my end-of-story-voice. I was anything but poor, but he didn't know that…

When you run your hand

All up and run it back down my leg

Get excited and bite my neck

Get me all worked up like that

"That's right, baby," Dalton whispered in my ear as I moaned. He was kissing up and down my neck, occasionally nipping and biting hard enough to leave a mark. I lie back on his bed, and let him do as he pleases. Hands massage my protruding hips bones gently, tickling the sensitive skin and I pull him flush against myself, needing more of him…

Think this through

I laid it down for you every time

Respect me, I give you what's mine

You're entirely way to fine

You're not thinking, Zander. Use your brain! I know you have one," my best friend screams at me.

I look up at him. Wesley is almost a year younger than me but already at least four inches taller than me. He's got to be at least six feet tall, I think in amazement.

"Wes, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me so much," I tell him. Still in awe of how much he has changed without me noticing, he's been my best friend since I was six. Two or three years ago I was taller than him and he still had goofy glasses and a horrid case of acne. Now…he's actually kind of handsome. I shook my head to clear it of that last thought. Wesley, my best friend, the one whose hair didn't stay the same color for more than two weeks (despite my concerns about what the dye fumes were doing to his brain), was now handsome? Weiiiird.

"He doesn't respect you at all!" The words broke me out of my former state.

"He does to, Wes. He's always respectful to me," I lied feebly. We both knew that wasn't true…

Arms around my waist

You get a taste of how good this can be

Be the man you ought to tenderly

Stand up for me

To think that just a matter of minutes ago we had been kissing. Now I was standing here, looking to him and hoping- though I knew it would never happen- that he would stick up for me.

"Hey, fag!" One of them calls out. It doesn't take me more than a second to identify Chris's voice. He's the schools biggest homophobe. If only he knew Dalton was 'bi-curious'.

I ignore him, looking Dalton meaningfully in the eyes for a minute before turning and moving to leave. I keep absolutely silent as I start to walk away, not letting the hand that grabs my shoulder cause me to flinch.

"I'm talking to you!" Chris yells, spinning me around to face him and pushing me into the heavily vandalized wall of our school building.

I try to keep my expression blank and answer with a sigh, "What do you want, Chris? You weren't planning on telling me how disgusting I am again, were you? Because it's getting kind of old, and quite frankly, boring."

I see the fury in that big face that looms over me. 'Why is everyone taller than me?' I think fleetingly, before a fist comes in contact with my cheek.

I drop to the ground, trying not to listen as I hear a familiar laugh mix in with the rest of the groups. It's Dalton's laugh, a deep throaty chuckle that used to cause my insides to melt. For a fleeting second I think about telling everyone about his 'experimenting' but then I remember I love him…I think…

I know I used to, before, when it wasn't…like this…when he used to care about me. He does care…right?


Flirt with me, don't keep hurtin' me

Don't cause me pain

Be my lover, don't play no game

Just play me John Coltrane

Wesley storms upstairs. I can hear him before he's even halfway down my overly-decorated hallway. My door flies open, bashing against the wall. He's lucky my parents aren't home; it's only me and my little sister. My ma and stepfather would have an absolute fit, and then he would blame me and I'd be forced to return home directly after school for the next month, causing all my precious tutoring money to go down the drain.

He stares at me for a few minutes, making sure I'm in one piece and glaring at the most obvious bruise, forming on my left cheek before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed. It's still there from when I used to…yeah…

He opens the large box and pulls out a pad of gauze and some antiseptic. He pours some of the liquid onto the cloth and gently pats my cheek with the stuff, apologizing when I wince at the sting.

After he's reassured that all my wounds are clean he tries to catch my eye. I avoid looking at him. Instead I stare at my ratty, black shoes like they're the most interesting things in the world. Hopefully, my tutoring job will give me enough to get a new pair soon. I could afford a new pair now but that would involve speaking to him. And I have absolutely no plan to do that.

Wesley grabs my chin, carefully, as to make sure he doesn't touch my injuries. "Zander," he says softly. He sounds tired. Though I suppose constantly having to patch me back up would be tiring. It's been his job for the past three years. "You have to break up with, Blondie." He scowls, using his nickname for Dalton. I suppose he could have picked something worse. Lucky for Dalton, I guess. "He's no good for you."

"I know," I say complacently, hoping he'll drop it.

"Seriously, Zander," his eyes get harder now, proving how dead set he is on the subject. "The next time he does something, I'm gonna-"

I cut Wesley off, not wanting to hear the rest. We stare at each for a while, his brown eyes unmoving, but he gets that I can't deal with anything else right now. He doesn't try to press anymore, which is part of the reason why he's such a great friend.

"So…you wanna listen to something?" I ask to change the topic of conversation.

He nods noncommittally and I get up to stick a CD in my ancient player. As I look for some good music I hear him mumble something that sounds vaguely like, "You're beautiful, how can he do this?" but I shake it off. Wesley couldn't have said that. Right?



So…anyways, there it was. Like I said before, I'm thinking about having this be a prequel type of thingy to a different story I want to write. Please tell me what you think!