| "How much for a fuck?" The courage in his voice sounds false in his own ears. The hustler arches an eyebrow and takes a drag on his cigarette. Can he hear it too? The boy shifts his weight and tries to look bored. The hustler smiles. "How old are you kid?" Something sparks inside the boy at the name. "I'm not a kid. I'm 17." The hustler laughs and it sounds bitter and pleased. "You know I could get arrested for touching you? You think your money is worth that much of a risk?" "You're risking something by standing here and selling yourself." "Touche." Another drag on the cigarette and he flicks it to the concrete, staring at it while the end glowed in the night. "For you honey, eighty." The boy swallows. That's everything in his back pocket. How in the world was he going to pay the fare to get home again? He pushes back his hair and tries to make himself stand taller. "Fine." The hustler grins, perfect teeth set into a mouth with too thin lips. He moves closer to the boy, "It's extra for a hotel room." The boy's hopes are completely crushed. And he guesses that it shows. The rough voice softens, "For a first time I'll pay for the room." The boy blushes and he's not too sure if he should say thank you. The hustler grabs his hand. He feels his face grow hotter with the pressure of experienced hands in his own. He's led down the street, past clubs with neon signs and the bass pounding through to the wet pavement below their feet. It's an odd hotel. One particularly made for this. A converted apartment building that went straight up four stories next to a bookstore. It had red brick walls and fancy window sills and there were shadows dancing on almost every floor through the windows. But not the kind of dance that he'd ever had before. The hustler leaves him at the stairs and walks up to get a room. There's something akin to fear in the boy's heart. He's close to backing out of this all, going home with his eighty dollars and virginity intact. But here he comes. The beautifully tarnished man that he had seen leaning against a light post, smoking his cigarette and making something that could cause cancer look like the sexiest thing to ever do. And oh, how he wanted him. All the young emotions inside of him were twisted and his dick had ached to be in the hands that were holding that cigarette. And so he had swallowed back his innocence and walked up. "Come on sweetheart." It was a long walk to a room on the third floor. Passed rooms of other people and up stairs that felt dirty. 304 was a number that the boy was going to remember for such a long time. Possibly the rest of his life. The hustler inserted the key and the lock clicked open. And something in the boy clicked open as well. The hustler walked to the window, sliding it open to smoke beside it. The boy closed the door behind him, trying to ignore the walls and the bed. Trying very hard to ignore the bed. 'Maybe we won't even do it on the bed.' He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth. On his toes. And then on his heels. 'Try to be cool.' "Why would you waste your first time on me?" The boy tripped a bit and his hands flew out to keep his balance. "I...what's that any of your business?" "It is if you're planning on me getting into your ass." The boy turned away, partly in disgust. "None of your business." "Fine fine. Let's get this over with, I've got a regular stopping by in a few hours." Something fell inside the boy. But boys weren't supposed to want romantic words and loving touches, right? The hustler tossed the cigarette out the window and faced the boy, crossing his arms over to the hem of his shirt before he pulled it up and over his head. The boy held back a moan. Was it possible to die of a massive erection? Jeans followed, long fingers pulling open buttons and sliding down denim against strong legs. Nothing underneath. Nothing but a beautiful cock and a perfect belly. The boy wanted so badly to look away, to pretend that he wasn't so fascinated by something he'd only ever seen in dirty pictures and in the mirror. He wanted to pretend that he wasn't so tempted to walk forward and get to his knees. To touch his lips to the head of that penis and suck so gently. What was going on? He felt so overcome and so saddened that he just wanted to close his eyes and stop. So he closed his eyes. But nothing happened. Except for the hand that touched his face and the breath close against his mouth. "You still want to do this kiddo?" He bristled at the name again and pushed forward, connecting untouched mouth to possibly over-experienced mouth. The aching in his heart began and the aching in his dick grew. Tongues touched tongues. And a hand slid up under the boy's shirt and he jumped back. But the hustler pressed on. Pressed the boy back against the wall until it creaked. The boy sighed. Is this what everyone was always talking about? Or was it different because he wasn't touching breasts? The sound of the zipper on his jeans was loud to him, but the hustler seemed not fazed by it at all as he reached in and curled a hand around his balls. His head banged against the wall and he swallowed back against the moan that rose. Should he be quiet? Should he be loud? Should he be doing something with his hands other than fisting them against his sides like so? He felt the room swirl around him and the bed press against his knees, bending him back and the hustler licked a line from his neck to his jaw. He touched smooth skin and felt the press of something against him. Here it comes. This was it. He reached back and held onto the cheap headboard and tried to ignore the burn in the backs of his thighs. He closed his eyes tight. He was holding back. His legs were over lean shoulders and there were hands smoothing their way across his ass as they lifted him. The press of something hard and dreadful against his ass and suddenly he wanted to push the hustler away. Was this going to scar him inside? He felt the regret already beginning it's bitter taste in his mouth. He smacked his lips and bit his tongue to get rid of it, wanting to turn to the side and spit over the side of the bed. And something happened. The hustler pulled away. Letting his legs fall to the bed with a thump. "What...what are you doing?" The hustler picked up his clothes and held them in a bundle in his one arm as he put another cigarette into his mouth. "'m saving you love." And he left the boy sitting up in the bed alone. The End |
| Lust and Being Saved |