Red Sheets and Cigarettes

[hecate]

I'm thinking this will be a three part-er - in other words, short and sweet. It will be graphically sexual and uncensored in the violence and potentially offensive language departments (nothing too bad, but just so's everybody knows). It will have very little plot development - and lots of loose ends. That being said, this is 18+ for sure so if you aren't 18, you better get your little fanny back to the under-18 section before I call your parent/guardian *looks stern* . . . Over 18's, enjoy!

P.S. If you like this, pretty please check out my fictionpress account - fictionpress.com/~disgusteddiscussion - if you do I will love you forever You can comment those stories on fictionpress or here or not at all or whatever strikes your fancy

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Craig took a drag from his cigarette, surveying the boy on his bed. Thick, chocolate hair obscured eyelids twitching with deep sleep. Lithe fingers that looked as though they had been crafted specifically for use on piano keys clenched in the sheets, their pale tone a sensuous contrast to the blood-red fabric. Long, lean legs curled up close to the evenly rising and falling chest, partially masked by the crimson sheets.

Craig wondered how old the boy was. Probably sixteen - maybe seventeen. Positively gorgeous. He ran his gaze over the portion of toned thigh not concealed beneath the sheets and felt desire flicker inside him.

He remembered how those flexible limbs had wrapped around his body, drawing him closer - pushing him deeper. Those lovely, thin fingers had scraped patterns in the skin on his back, the stinging only heightening the pleasure of velvet heat surrounding his pulsating flesh.

Craig sucked on his cigarette, holding the smoke inside his mouth for a moment before letting it billow into the room.

He looked at the clock. How long was the kid planning to sleep? Craig had work later and he had hoped to get another good romp before he left.

The bed springs creaked slightly.

Craig looked back to see the boy sitting up, heedless of his exposed body. He was surprised at the teenager’s expression – blithe and disinterested. Most of the younger boys he had taken home woke feeling embarrassed and confused.

“I suppose you want me to leave now?”

Craig shrugged, studying the boy. “I’m in no rush.”

“Want to shag me again?” The boy uncurled his legs, spreading them for Craig’s approval. The teenager snaked a hand between his thighs, teasing his flaccid member. His eyes never left Craig – taunting, tempting, calculating.

The blatant sexuality of the younger man brought a faint blush to Craig’s cheeks. Despite his youth, this was very obviously not the boy’s first time. He almost did not know how to react. He had taken home his own share of sexually active boys, but he had never encountered this callousness, even from boys who had been in prostitution for most of their lives.

“Do you want to do it again?”

The boy shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”

“What’s your name?”

Coffee- colored eyebrows rose quizzically. “What’s it to you?”

“Just curious. Want a smoke?” Craig offered the pack to the teenager.

The boy selected a cigarette and touched it to his lips, leaning in to light it on the match Craig held out for him. The brunette inhaled slowly before removing the cigarette and releasing a stream of smoke from between his still-swollen lips. “My name is Ethan.”

“How old are you, Ethan?”

“What are you, my mother?” Ethan took a drag and blew the smoke toward the ceiling.

Craig hungrily followed the line of the teenagers arched neck with his gaze. Followed it up to Ethan’s cherry lips, parted gently. He stood suddenly, walking over to the bed. Ethan watched him calmly – taking an easy breath from his cigarette.

Craig ground his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the edge of Ethan’s jaw. “You’d better put yours out too.”

Craig could feel Ethan’s mouth form into a wry smile. “Yes, mother.”

Ethan leaned over to add his cigarette to the ashtray, his body brushing against Craig’s. He leaned back on his elbows, eying Craig lustfully. Ethan licked his lips. “Use me . . .”

Craig grinned. “With pleasure.”

Craig pushed the teenager against the bed, roughly pressing his lips against Ethan’s. The brunette opened his lips to Craig’s delving tongue, moaning into his mouth. The boy’s long, piano fingers dug into his back, his hips bucked up to grind against Craig.

Craig brushed his fingers over the boy’s cock. He trailed his fingers lower, exploring the soft skin of his balls. He traced Ethan’s puckered entrance, probed the slick heat. Ethan’s eyes smoldered as he hissed.

Ethan clenched his muscles around the inquisitive digit. “Do it,”

“Relax,”

“Do it,”

Craig rolled a condom onto his shaft, watching Ethan. He was disconcerted by the control he saw manifest in the boy’s gaze. There was lust there too, but it was only a spark in Ethan’s clear blue eyes. Ethan didn’t need it.

But he did. Craig pressed against Ethan, sliding inside him.

The larger man watched Ethan closely, as he set a rhythm – moving in and out of his body. Although Ethan’s moans swirled around them like the cigarette smoke they had exhaled, the control in his eyes never weakened. Craig pounded into the teenager, trying to prompt a greater reaction, searching for the boy’s sweet spot, hoping to get Ethan’s control to slip.

Ethan’s long legs wrapped themselves around Craig’s waist, pressing their bodies together.

Craig watched Ethan’s control flicker for a split second as the boy’s body tensed with his climax – hot semen coating their conjoined bodies – before his eyelids closed. The spasms of Ethan’s muscles were enough to drive Craig over the edge.

Craig lay on his bed, watching as Ethan stood and began tugging on his clothes. The teenager seemed hardly affected by the orgasm that had wracked his body only seconds earlier.

“Wanna do this again sometime?”

Ethan looked over his shoulder. “Sure. Next time, I’ll let you do me in platform heels and a mini.”

The teenager bent at the waist to tie his shoes and Craig could picture Ethan in the outfit he had described – toned legs stretching as Ethan reached down to grab his ankles, micro mini riding up . . .

“Sure. Whatever you like.”

Ethan straightened and raised his eyebrows. “No, mother, whatever you like.”

The click of the door sounded hollow and echo-y. Craig reached for his cigarette pack and lit up, sucking the acrid smoke into his lungs. He was going to see Ethan again. And next time, he was going to make that control vanish like smoke.

[lilmizC]

loved it!!! well done!

[hecate]

I’m being bad. I should be doing the next chapter of a different story, but I’m being lazy and updating this instead

Oh and did I mention this is cliche? Well, it is in case you hadn't noticed yet . . .

lilmizC – thanks so much for reading and commenting, makes me

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Ethan breathed out a sigh. His breath misted in front of him, swirling like cigarette smoke. He needed a smoke. The teenager checked the time on his cell phone. If he didn’t get picked up in a few minutes, he could go home. Thank goodness.

The street was deserted, cold air full of dark, choking smoke from the nearby factories. Again, Ethan thought of cigarettes. Crap.

A car drove slowly down the street, the driver obviously surveying the teenage boys leaning against the walls, lined up like livestock for sell. It slowed even more as it came close to Ethan and he groaned inwardly. It was freezing and he just wanted to go home, but he put on a winning smile and walked toward the car.

He leaned into the open window without bothering to look at the driver. “Want some company?”

“Get in the car, Ethan.”

Ethan did a double-take, then rearranged his features into careful disinterest. “Screw you, Daemon. I’m not yours anymore.”

Daemon’s eyes seemed to glow in the car’s dim interior. “Yeah, I heard. You’re a Mama’s boy now.”

Ethan forced himself to remain calm despite the fear boiling in his stomach at the condescension in his old pimp’s voice.

“You heard right.” Ethan casually flipped Daemon the bird, showing off the ring circling his middle finger – a gold M. “She pays better than you, plus she doesn’t rape her employees in the backroom.”

Daemon growled. “You’re such an ungrateful c*nt, boy.”

“At least I’m not an old f*g who’s only a pimp because he can’t get any.” Ethan straightened and mockingly saluted the dark car. “Find yourself another c*nt-boy, Daemon, I’m off-duty.”

Ethan began walking up the street. He swallowed, trying to control his body. Fear and revulsion churned his stomach. The hair on the back of his neck was raised – and not from the cold. His face was burning. He needed to talk to Mama – she needed to know that Daemon had found him again.

Ethan pulled his coat around him, zipping it up over his bare chest. Jeez, he needed a smoke.

He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him – didn’t pay attention to them. Black sparked in front of his eyes as his head hit the side of a building.

Ethan was could hear someone gasping for air. It took a drop of blood falling into his mouth for Ethan to realize it was him. A hand knotted in his hair. Ethan blinked and he could see the wall coming back toward him. He threw his hands in front of his face, but it barely softened the impact.

The hand released him and Ethan slid down the wall.

“C*nt.” Daemon’s breath was hot on Ethan’s neck.

Ethan whimpered as he felt Daemon’s hand knot in his hair again. “She may pay better and she may leave your pretty little hole alone, but she can’t protect you,” He paused, yanking Ethan’s head backwards. Daemon’s image swam in front of his eyes. “No one can protect you from me.”

The blackness started to close in on Ethan. He thought he saw the wall rushing toward him again, but he never felt the collision.

“Ethan?”

“Ethan, can you hear me?”

“Come on, Ethan,”

“Ethan,”

“Ethan,”

Ethan opened his eyes slowly. He could see red everywhere. Blood? His breathing caught as he remembered Daemon’s hissing threat. No one can protect you from me.

He tried to sit up and felt the whole world spinning. The room came into sudden, painful focus. Small and crowded, giant bed swathed in crimson sheet, over-sized ticking clock. Ethan recognized the room, just as he recognized the man next to the bed.

“Mother?” He didn’t know another name for the man, and he hoped his humor would convince the man that he was fine. If he didn’t get back soon, Mama would flip and he couldn’t . . .

“Actually, the name’s Craig, kid, but yeah, sure.” Craig reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Ethan’s eyes. “What do you remember?”

“A wall.” Ethan fought to maintain the blithe front he portrayed. He needed to get out of Craig’s apartment, needed to get home. He began to get up, cautious in case he got dizzy again, but Craig pressed him back onto the bed.

“You can’t go anywhere. You have a concussion and you lost a lot of blood. Who was that guy?”

Ethan laughed bitterly, so frustrated that he let his careful façade slip. Who really cared how much Craig knew about him? “That dick was my old pimp, he’s sore because I left him. And if I don’t get back, my current pimp is going have my cock for a hood ornament.”

Craig’s arms tensed on Ethan’s chest, anticipating his next attempt to stand. “You’re not going anywhere. You need medical attention.”

Ethan glared at Craig. “You going to take me to the hospital? Hustlers don’t have very good insurance if you catch my drift.”

“Luckily for you, I work at a hospital. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

Ethan scoffed. “Let me guess, male nurse? How very gay.”

Craig smiled condescendingly. “Actually I’m a doctor. And considering I may have just saved your life – such as it is – you should probably be a little less patronizing.”

For once, Ethan didn’t have a ready-made retort. He did owe Craig his life. He looked away.

The pressure of Craig’s arms gradually relaxed. Ethan lay still as Craig touched the wounds on his face gingerly, swabbing them clean.

Craig’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “So you’re a prostitute?”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t charge me . . . ?”

Ethan sighed at the question. “It was my day off. You weren’t a customer, you were a fling.”

“Is it normal for hustlers to look for sex when they don’t have to?”

“Screw normal. Hustling has nothing to do with normal .”

Craig’s voice became softer. “Why do you do it?”

Ethan bit his lip – the antiseptic Craig was using stung, tears pricked his eyes, but not from the sting. He didn’t know why he was telling Craig anything, but the bitter words just kept rolling off his tongue. “Virginity is valuable. When you’re a virgin, everyone’s willing to pamper you, feed you stories, tell you anything you like to get at it. Once it’s gone . . . once it’s gone you’re just a dirty wh*re.”

Ethan clenched his teeth as a tiny tear trickled from the corner of his eye. “Once you are dirty – once you’re damaged – you might as well get some money out of it because you won’t be getting anything else.”

Craig felt hot anger burn in stomach, but more overwhelming was the sadness that he felt in Ethan’s behalf. He knew what Ethan was going through. He knew how it was to be sought after – to be valued, to be loved – then to be abandoned once you had served your purpose.

Craig felt a sudden urge to embrace the teenager, but he doubted Ethan would let him. Tears were flowing down the boy’s cheeks freely, though his taut jaw attested to the fact that he was still fighting against the flood.

“Do you want a cigarette, Ethan?”

[lilmizC]

very powerful and sad but in a good way its gr8!

[iloveyaoi05]

i love it...many thanks...

please continue writing...i'm already one of your avid fan