You've a Figure Made of Glass (That I Can't Seem to Break)
You've a Figure Made of Glass (That I Can't Seem to Break)
Uruha/Kai (Kouyou/Yutaka)
R (Borderline NC-17) (Prostitution and mentions of abuse)
Length: 1,117 (oneshot)
Genre: angst/romance
The clock struck 4am and Yutaka violently stumbled out of bed accompanied by a string of curse words gracing those beautiful lips, his innocent features twisted into a hideous sneer. His eyes were bloodshot from numerous amounts of restless nights and for once in his pathetic existence, he wondered how much more of this he could tolerate. This filthy house and its equally foul occupants instilled a permanent weariness Unnamed faces swirled at lightning speed in his mind, and he barely made it to the toilet before sickness overtook him. He reeked of stale alcohol and hypocrisy, the stench unbearable as he reacquainted himself with the porcelain bowl.
There wasn’t much solid content, his throat violently contracting from the dry heave. He couldn’t even remember the last proper meal he had eaten.
“Disgusting.” Kouyou observed in the doorway, arms crossed and a bare foot carelessly kicking Yutaka’s ankle. “Are you still alive?”
Yutaka remained stiff and unmoving on the floor, floating in limbo between consciousness and passing out from the putrid odour.
“Get up.” Kouyou traced random circles with his big toe on Yutaka’s calf. “How many did you have tonight?”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s not a number.” Hauling him up by his shoulders, he carried Yutaka through the dark corridors to the other side of the house. His bedroom was softly lit, silver candelabras adorning each wall with tall fragrant wax pillars. The scent of lilies filled his nostrils and Yutaka saw the face of his mother, smiling and forgiving.
Kouyou roughly undressed him, tearing his already threadbare shirt in the process and pants barely off his ankles before unceremoniously dropping him into the tub. Warm water lapped over the edge from the onslaught and Yutaka quickly regained his bearings before going under.
“How many?” He watched Yutaka, childish demeanor slowly revealing itself through the way he splashed around.
“Five.”
“You’re bleeding.”
A shallow cut on his shoulder broke open from the clumsy movements. The smell of copper hits their nose as tiny trickles made their way down his bruised chest.
“Get in the shower instead,” Kouyou commanded. The thought of Yutaka soaking in blood tainted water made sour fumes rise in his mouth.
He did as he was told, legs shaking as he climbed out and stepped into the stall. Kouyou drained the bathtub before joining him.
“Customer liked it rough?”
Yutaka only nodded his head as Kouyou gently worked the terry cloth all over his body. He remembered calloused palms and blunt nails; leather cords binding his wrists to the iron headboard. And then there were slaps. Or punches? Perhaps both. He couldn’t recall.
“Five together?”
“Three separate. Two together.” He winced as Kouyou scrubbed over a newly formed bruise on his lower back. “I always get the sick fuckers.”
“Only been here for three weeks, rookie. You’re still fresh. Just how they like it.”
“What, you get romance?”
“No. But I don’t get bastards who get off from beating me either.”
Yutaka closed his eyes, water soothingly running down his body and foreign hands surprisingly tender massaging his thighs. He clung to the quick glimpse of his childhood, most memories already forgotten but he’s trying so hard to retain. There were slides and jungle gyms, the empty sandbox where he spent most of his evenings with neighboring children. Another flash showed his front porch where he tripped up the steps and scraped his knees.
“Did you cry?” Kouyou thumbed the fresh welts on his hips.
“No.”
“Do you want to?” He splayed his hand on the flat of Yutaka's stomach, feeling the slight tremble unraveling rapidly.
“Yeah.”
He holds Yutaka tightly, something that neither were accustomed to in their line of work. He never dared get close to the other boys no matter how much he yearned for companionship. Some nights, the craving for decent human interaction was so overwhelming that Kouyou had conversations with himself. Simple “hello’s’ and “how are you’s” escalated to more burning inquiries.
Kouyou. Why are you still here?
I don’t know.
Do you want to stay here?
No.
Leave.
I can’t.
Why?
Not by myself. There’s someone else.
Who?
I’m not sure.
You’re mental, Kouyou.
I know.
*****
Steam released from the door as Kouyou carried him out of the bathroom. His arms remained fastened around Kouyou's shoulders and his face hidden in the crook of his neck; new tears in blue, uneven brush stroke.
Yutaka stayed silent as he applied the antibiotic salve and taped bandages on the cut.
“How long have you been here?”
“Longer than I should be.” He shoved the first aide supplies in the nightstand.
“Do you want to stay here?”
“No.”
“Leave.”
“I can’t.” Kouyou responded and stared at Yutaka incredulously. He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Fucking déjà vu.”
“What?” He cautiously pulled back when Kouyou cupped his cheek. His head hits the headboard as the older man pressed their lips together, drinking from it like a fountain full of tiny gold flecks reflecting their juvenile dreams.
“Let me fuck you, Yutaka.”
*****
The room permeated with need and urgency. Slow explorations from collarbones to soft flesh of inner thighs amplified to deep thrusts and writhing bodies. Hard penetrations elicited melodious whimpering and moans; hands continuously caressing and searching for something to hold on to, while another stroked towards a quaking release.
“Are you like this with your customers?” He gazed at Yutaka, the man underneath him quivering and gripping each side of the pillow. This. This shouldn’t be given so freely.
“No.” Yutaka mewled in response.
“I can’t hear you,” and he roughly pounded into that acute bundle of nerves, drawing a desperate sobs each time.
“No.” Yutaka shook his head back and forth. “No…Never.”
“Never?”
“Never, Kouyou.”
They kiss brutally, fingers woven and hearts chipping precisely around the edges; plump, rosy pouts demanding more than they had to offer.
One day, they would be able to give and take equally.
*****
“We’ll get out of here.” Kouyou promised, strength renewed when Yutaka seeks him out for the first time. Scorching whip marks criss-crossed his back and Kouyou itched to run his tongue along the tender flesh to make it disappear. “I’ve been saving. All of it. I can’t leave without you.”
Yutaka tossed a thick roll of money on the night table knowing Kouyou would deposit it in the safe under his bed later. He straddled Kouyou’s lap and draped himself tightly around the older man, his back being soothed with medicated cream and loving hands.
“You think we can get a place outside of the city?”
“Yeah. If you want.” He kissed Yutaka on the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Just you and me, baby.”
Just you and me.
Uruha/Kai (Kouyou/Yutaka)
R (Borderline NC-17) (Prostitution and mentions of abuse)
Length: 1,117 (oneshot)
Genre: angst/romance
The clock struck 4am and Yutaka violently stumbled out of bed accompanied by a string of curse words gracing those beautiful lips, his innocent features twisted into a hideous sneer. His eyes were bloodshot from numerous amounts of restless nights and for once in his pathetic existence, he wondered how much more of this he could tolerate. This filthy house and its equally foul occupants instilled a permanent weariness Unnamed faces swirled at lightning speed in his mind, and he barely made it to the toilet before sickness overtook him. He reeked of stale alcohol and hypocrisy, the stench unbearable as he reacquainted himself with the porcelain bowl.
There wasn’t much solid content, his throat violently contracting from the dry heave. He couldn’t even remember the last proper meal he had eaten.
“Disgusting.” Kouyou observed in the doorway, arms crossed and a bare foot carelessly kicking Yutaka’s ankle. “Are you still alive?”
Yutaka remained stiff and unmoving on the floor, floating in limbo between consciousness and passing out from the putrid odour.
“Get up.” Kouyou traced random circles with his big toe on Yutaka’s calf. “How many did you have tonight?”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s not a number.” Hauling him up by his shoulders, he carried Yutaka through the dark corridors to the other side of the house. His bedroom was softly lit, silver candelabras adorning each wall with tall fragrant wax pillars. The scent of lilies filled his nostrils and Yutaka saw the face of his mother, smiling and forgiving.
Kouyou roughly undressed him, tearing his already threadbare shirt in the process and pants barely off his ankles before unceremoniously dropping him into the tub. Warm water lapped over the edge from the onslaught and Yutaka quickly regained his bearings before going under.
“How many?” He watched Yutaka, childish demeanor slowly revealing itself through the way he splashed around.
“Five.”
“You’re bleeding.”
A shallow cut on his shoulder broke open from the clumsy movements. The smell of copper hits their nose as tiny trickles made their way down his bruised chest.
“Get in the shower instead,” Kouyou commanded. The thought of Yutaka soaking in blood tainted water made sour fumes rise in his mouth.
He did as he was told, legs shaking as he climbed out and stepped into the stall. Kouyou drained the bathtub before joining him.
“Customer liked it rough?”
Yutaka only nodded his head as Kouyou gently worked the terry cloth all over his body. He remembered calloused palms and blunt nails; leather cords binding his wrists to the iron headboard. And then there were slaps. Or punches? Perhaps both. He couldn’t recall.
“Five together?”
“Three separate. Two together.” He winced as Kouyou scrubbed over a newly formed bruise on his lower back. “I always get the sick fuckers.”
“Only been here for three weeks, rookie. You’re still fresh. Just how they like it.”
“What, you get romance?”
“No. But I don’t get bastards who get off from beating me either.”
Yutaka closed his eyes, water soothingly running down his body and foreign hands surprisingly tender massaging his thighs. He clung to the quick glimpse of his childhood, most memories already forgotten but he’s trying so hard to retain. There were slides and jungle gyms, the empty sandbox where he spent most of his evenings with neighboring children. Another flash showed his front porch where he tripped up the steps and scraped his knees.
“Did you cry?” Kouyou thumbed the fresh welts on his hips.
“No.”
“Do you want to?” He splayed his hand on the flat of Yutaka's stomach, feeling the slight tremble unraveling rapidly.
“Yeah.”
He holds Yutaka tightly, something that neither were accustomed to in their line of work. He never dared get close to the other boys no matter how much he yearned for companionship. Some nights, the craving for decent human interaction was so overwhelming that Kouyou had conversations with himself. Simple “hello’s’ and “how are you’s” escalated to more burning inquiries.
Kouyou. Why are you still here?
I don’t know.
Do you want to stay here?
No.
Leave.
I can’t.
Why?
Not by myself. There’s someone else.
Who?
I’m not sure.
You’re mental, Kouyou.
I know.
*****
Steam released from the door as Kouyou carried him out of the bathroom. His arms remained fastened around Kouyou's shoulders and his face hidden in the crook of his neck; new tears in blue, uneven brush stroke.
Yutaka stayed silent as he applied the antibiotic salve and taped bandages on the cut.
“How long have you been here?”
“Longer than I should be.” He shoved the first aide supplies in the nightstand.
“Do you want to stay here?”
“No.”
“Leave.”
“I can’t.” Kouyou responded and stared at Yutaka incredulously. He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Fucking déjà vu.”
“What?” He cautiously pulled back when Kouyou cupped his cheek. His head hits the headboard as the older man pressed their lips together, drinking from it like a fountain full of tiny gold flecks reflecting their juvenile dreams.
“Let me fuck you, Yutaka.”
*****
The room permeated with need and urgency. Slow explorations from collarbones to soft flesh of inner thighs amplified to deep thrusts and writhing bodies. Hard penetrations elicited melodious whimpering and moans; hands continuously caressing and searching for something to hold on to, while another stroked towards a quaking release.
“Are you like this with your customers?” He gazed at Yutaka, the man underneath him quivering and gripping each side of the pillow. This. This shouldn’t be given so freely.
“No.” Yutaka mewled in response.
“I can’t hear you,” and he roughly pounded into that acute bundle of nerves, drawing a desperate sobs each time.
“No.” Yutaka shook his head back and forth. “No…Never.”
“Never?”
“Never, Kouyou.”
They kiss brutally, fingers woven and hearts chipping precisely around the edges; plump, rosy pouts demanding more than they had to offer.
One day, they would be able to give and take equally.
*****
“We’ll get out of here.” Kouyou promised, strength renewed when Yutaka seeks him out for the first time. Scorching whip marks criss-crossed his back and Kouyou itched to run his tongue along the tender flesh to make it disappear. “I’ve been saving. All of it. I can’t leave without you.”
Yutaka tossed a thick roll of money on the night table knowing Kouyou would deposit it in the safe under his bed later. He straddled Kouyou’s lap and draped himself tightly around the older man, his back being soothed with medicated cream and loving hands.
“You think we can get a place outside of the city?”
“Yeah. If you want.” He kissed Yutaka on the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Just you and me, baby.”
Just you and me.