Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/448480.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Weiß_Kreuz
  Relationship:
      Brad_Crawford/Schuldig
  Character:
      Brad_Crawford, Schuldig_(Weiß_Kreuz)
  Additional Tags:
      Brothels, Alternate_Universe_-_Historical, Prostitution, Explicit_Sexual
      Content
  Series:
      Part 1 of Yoshiwara
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-01 Words: 3829
****** The Boy From Yoshiwara ******
by summerbutterfly
Summary
     Brad Crawford is an apprentice courtesan in the Yoshiwara District.
     Until the night one of the regulars calls on him.
Notes
     This is set sometime during the Meiji Period, making it AU (even
     though Yoshiwara was a real place). In this story, both characters
     are seventeen. I'm a little nervous about putting this up here, but I
     kind of like the way it came out, so here it is. Part one of what is,
     right now, three.
They called him the Prince. Or sometimes, the Brat Prince, or when Uncle was
feeling particularly uncharitable, the Flame-Haired Devil. He was the son of a
wealthy foreign official, but that was about all anyone really knew about him.
He wasn’t the type that sobbed out his life story after a few bottles of sake,
or the type who took out the shame of his attraction to men on the boy of his
choice. If anything, when the Prince visited the House of the Hidden Lotus, he
barely drank. And his courtesans always seemed to return to duty in better
shape than when they left. He also tipped well, and had never been anything but
courteous to the House staff. At least, not that Brad had seen. But he knew it
drove Uncle nuts that it was nearly impossible to wring any extra money out of
the Prince, despite the regularity of his visits. He came in, and he wanted
what he wanted, and that was that.
At least it was until the night he wanted Brad.
“Iroko.”
The pale apprentice paused, broom hovering just above the bamboo floor of the
tearoom. The shoji screen was open, and he could see the Prince and Uncle
standing in the hall. Uncle was giving the Prince his Business Smile. The one
that meant he would rather gouge out his eyes than continue with this
negotiation.
“Ah, sorry.” Uncle made a shallow bow. “Iroko no available. You see Mishi?”
It always stumped Brad as to why Uncle insisted on speaking to the Prince in
English. The Prince spoke perfect Japanese, and had never addressed any of the
staff in anything but.
“No, Iroko,” the Prince repeated. “That one. Right there.”
He pointed at Brad. Uncle looked at Brad out of the corner of his eye.
Brad pretended to be too interested in sweeping to notice.
Uncle frowned and turned back. “Iroko no available. We prepare Mishi.”
“You misunderstand.” The Prince reached into his pocket and drew out a large
wad of paper bills. By the color, Brad could see it was British currency.
“Tonight, I desire Iroko. I have paid for Iroko, and I have paid for the Room
of Heavenly Splendor. There is more than enough here to cover any possible
inconvenience this might cause, so tell me. Is he still unavailable?”
The Prince set the bills on the desk. Uncle picked up the money, thumbing
through it with an intense expression. The Prince waited.
Uncle put the money way. “Iroko will go,” he said in Japanese. “But you realize
he’s not fully trained. He is still an apprentice.”
“That’s quite all right.” The Prince smiled, cool and controlled. “I’m in the
mood for something...fresh.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Brad was tugged, pushed, scrubbed, tweaked, plucked and trussed up until he
looked in the mirror and could barely recognize the boy looking back. He wore
full make-up, and a silk kimono with sleeves dangling well past his hands. His
hair, short still because he wasn’t allowed to grow it out, was tied back in a
small ponytail.
The Prince had requested none of this, but Auntie had been insistent.
“No apprentice,” she said, “should go to his first caller looking like a street
rat.”
When they were done, he was escorted upstairs. The Room of Heavenly Splendor
was all the way in the back, the only room with an en suite bathroom, and when
they reached it, Brad was shoved inside.
The deadbolt clicked shut behind him.
Brad assumed the stance he’d been taught- head bowed just enough to look up at
the client through lowered lashes, expression shy yet coy and full of promise.
Opposite him, the Prince lounged on the futon, fully naked.
“You seem calm for your first time.” The Prince ran his fingers over his cock,
fondling the length with a practiced hand. “I assume because working in a
brothel, you have seen plenty of naked men, yes?”
Brad nodded, knowing not to speak until requested.
“What’s your name?” the Prince asked.
“Iroko,” Brad replied.
“No, what’s your real name. I know your parents didn’t name you Love Child.”
Brad dared to look up. The Prince was staring at him, blue eyes intent.
“My name is Brad,” he said in English. “Brad Crawford.”
“Crawford.” The Prince responded in kind, English as clear as his Japanese.
“Are you British, Brad Crawford?”
“American.”
“American.” The Prince sat up, intrigued. “Educated?”
Brad nodded.
“Parlez-vous Francais?”
“Oui.”
“Deutshe?”
“Ja.”
“Anything else?”
Brad shook his head.
“Mmm, no matter. We’ve covered the basics. And we can speak in English, if
you’d like. It’s all the same to me.” The Prince flashed him a wicked grin.
“Now. Undress for me, Brad Crawford. I want to look at what I’m buying.”
Brad did as he was told, unwinding the ties of his kimono and letting the
garment slide off his shoulders. Underneath, he was bare. Completely.
Auntie had insisted on shaving him.
“Hm.” The Prince, not hairless himself, but certainly a few years shy of full
maturity, scrutinized Brad’s smooth, pale skin. “Not what I was expecting. How
old are you, Brad Crawford?”
“Fifteen.”
Always fifteen. Whenever anyone asked, the answer was fifteen.
“Bull shit.” The Prince got to his feet. “You’re not younger than me. How old
are you really?”
Brad shivered. The Prince walked over, placing his hand in the center of Brad’s
chest. The long fingers almost reached to his collarbones and Brad felt his
breath catch.
“Eighteen,” Brad managed. “Well, almost eighteen.”
“Mmm, that sounds more like it. Now, next question. Are you really a virgin? Or
is that just another lie they make you tell?”
Brad bit back his ire. The Prince had been to the House enough times to know
how these things worked. Telling the client what he wanted to hear was all part
of the game. The mystique.
And yet part of him appreciated the Prince’s blunt demand for honesty.
“I have not been penetrated, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “But if you are
worried about my skills in the way of love...”
“Hardly worried.” The Prince stepped back. “More like curious. Also, I’m sure
you know a good deal more than they think you do, and I’m sure I’m going to
enjoy it. But we’ll get back to that in a minute. Right now, I want you to
bathe me. Follow.”
The Prince turned and walked into the washing room. Brad followed, collecting
the soaps, bucket, washcloth and stool, and setting the latter in the middle of
the bathing room. He gestured for the Prince to sit. The Prince did, spreading
his legs wide. What had been soft and pliant before was now plumping with
interest.
Brad eyed it as he filled the bucket and knelt.
The Prince grinned. “You like?” he asked.
“You are very well-endowed,” Brad said.
“I am,” the Prince said. “Even more so when I’m fully aroused. Which is why you
will start there. Wash me with just the soap and your hands. I want to feel
your touch.”
Brad nodded as he settled on his heels. He grabbed the nearest bar of soap and
worked up a good lather before grasping the Prince’s long cock. It twitched in
his hand, stirring as he gave it a soft tug.
The Prince smiled. “Yes,” he said. “Just like that.”
Brad tugged again running his hands down the length, squeezing gently, then
running them back up, pausing a fraction of a second to tease the head. The
Prince tilted his hips forward, pushing himself into Brad’s fist.
Brad continued to stroke, squeezing and pulling as the Prince hardened.
“You have a good touch,” the Prince said. “Do you practice on yourself?”
Brad didn’t respond.
His insubordination earned him a sharp tug on his hair.
“I asked you a question.” The Prince said. He pulled Brad’s head back until
their eyes met. “I asked you if you practice on yourself, Brad Crawford. Do you
do this when you’re alone? Touch your sex?”
Brad licked his lips. “Sometimes,” he said. “Not often. I’m not alone much.
I...the apprentices. We share a room.”
“I see.” The Prince’s gaze darkened. “You have a pretty dick. Do the other
apprentices touch it for you?”
A hint of color touched Brad’s cheeks, visible even under the make-up. “We keep
each other entertained,” he said diplomatically. “We are...young men after
all.”
“Yes, yes you are. Very pretty young men.” The Prince let go and leaned back.
“Rinse me?”
Brad grabbed the ladle, rinsing the soap from the Prince’s penis. The Prince
made a low noise, swelling more under the slough of warm water, hips winding in
a sensual circle.
Brad picked up the soap again. “Shall I continue?” he asked.
“Hmmm, no.” The Prince adjusted so his knees were closer together. “Not that it
doesn’t feel lovely, I just want to make sure we don’t do too much too fast.
Why don’t you wash my back? And while you do it, press up against me. I like
the feel of another man’s body.”
Brad rose and moved behind the Prince. He ladled some water over the sleek,
corded muscles and then lathered on the soap, using long, sweeping strokes to
massage it in. As requested, he stayed close, leaning his chest into the
Prince’s shoulders, even rubbing his own cock against the Prince’s hip, which
elicited a low laugh.
“Careful, Brad Crawford. Too much of that and you might truly make me believe
you like this.”
The question was out before Brad could stop himself. “How do you mean?”
The Prince cast him a sly grin over his shoulder. “I’m not so naive that I
don’t see through the myth of the Happy Whore,” he said. “But then again, I’ve
never been one for pretense. I know most of you are here against your will, so
very rarely do I get a boy who takes any kind of initiative. Thing is, I like
that. I like a little power play now and then.”
Brad slowed his rubbing, unsure if the Prince was chastising him or
complimenting him. To buy himself some time, he washed away the blanket of
soap, and made a show of moving the Prince’s long red hair to get at his neck.
“Ahh,” the Prince whispered. Goosebumps broke out over his skin and he squirmed
under Brad’s fingers. “Watch it, I’m very sensitive there. Not sure why, but
any sort of stimulation is such a delicious turn-on. Do that again.”
Brad smoothed down a few stray strands near the Prince’s ear, staring at the
aforementioned patch of skin. His mentors had, of course, thoroughly schooled
him in what had seemed to be an endless list of sexual quirks, but at no point
could he remember anyone ever mentioning the nape. This was intriguing.
Brad leaned in and pressed a kiss to the warm flesh.
The Prince grabbed his forearm. “Scheiße,Brad.”
Brad pulled back, surprised by the violent reaction. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is
that not what you wanted?”
“No, mmmm, no. It’s fine.” The Prince closed his eyes, breathing quickly. “I’m
just hotter than I expected I’d be.”
Brad looked down. The Prince’s cock was upright and red, damp at the tip with
more than just water. Brad was tempted to touch it, but he knew it was against
policy to do so without being asked.
A courtesan never brought a client to orgasm without express permission.
“Let’s finish up here,” the Prince said. “There’s so much more I want to do
with you, and I don’t want to waste a good orgasm on a simple kiss.”
“Of course,” Brad murmured. He reached for the soap again, moving to the
Prince’s front. With brisk efficiency, he washed the Prince’s chest and abs.
Like the back of him, his stomach was sleek muscle, taut and toned but not
overly so.
Again, not the body of a boy, but not the body of a full-grown man.
“How old are you?” Brad asked, ladling away the soap pooled at the Prince’s
hip. “I know I’m not supposed to be asking, but you did say you liked
initiative.”
“Yes.” The Prince carded his fingers through Brad’s dark ponytail. “I certainly
do. And I’m almost eighteen, too.”
“And your family...allows this?”
“The fucking?” The Price snorted. “Of course not, but it’s not like I care.
What I do with my body is none of their business. Besides, if I didn’t do it
here, I’d just be doing it at school. Messing around with all those boys and
their repression issues, which is not nearly as much fun. They call me a bottom
like that’s actually a bad thing, can you believe it?”
Brad couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. The Prince urged him to
his feet and Brad went willingly when the Prince pulled him down onto his lap.
Wet, warm cock pressed against Brad’s inner thigh.
“They’re too stupid to realize that I let them fuck me,” the Prince went on.
“They think they are big men, taking me like they do. But what they don’t know
is that there is nothing like the sensation of someone filling you. A thick sex
sliding against your sweet spot, hot friction making your stomach twist. I love
getting fucked. Boys that don’t don’t know what they’re missing.”
The Prince bit his neck. Brad gasped.
“I bet you know exactly what I mean,” the Prince murmured. “I bet you like it,
too, don’t you?”
“I told you before,” Brad said. “I’ve never had sex with penetration.”
“Aww, c’mon Brad. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? That your
mentors never, ever tasted this beauty?”
The Prince’s teeth scraped along his throat. Brad flexed his hands, unsure
where to put them, a problem quickly solved when the Prince took them in his
own.
“Let’s go to bed,” the Prince said. “I’m getting impatient. I want to see what
you know and what you don’t and introduce you to true carnal pleasure.”
“As you wish.”
They stood together. The Prince led the way out, nude and carefree, the muscles
of his ass shifting invitingly as he returned to the bedroom. Once there, he
draped his lanky form, face down, across the futon. As was custom, lotions,
toys and lubricant lined the wall next to the mattress.
The Prince picked up the nearest dildo, turning it over in his hands. “Glass,
how posh. And realistic, too.”
“Uncle has them custom made.”
“Really? I need to get the name of his contact.” The Prince set it aside,
trading it in for a bottle of oil. “Will you be preparing me tonight, Brad
Crawford? Or would you prefer I prepared myself while you watched?”
Brad knelt down at the foot of the bed. “I will do whatever you desire.”
The Prince chuckled. “Well yes, I know that. But I’m asking what you want. What
will turn you on, Brad Crawford? Because we’ve been naked for almost an hour
and you’re barely hard.”
Brad bowed his head. It was true, he was still soft, but it wasn’t from
disinterest. The Prince intrigued him. And he was very attractive. But Brad had
been so focused on doing his job he hadn’t really allowed himself to focus on
his libido.
Focusing on the job, after all, was what he’d been trained to do.
“I could use the help.” The Prince leaned back until his shoulders rested
against the wall. “It’s so hard to get just the right angle and you have such
nice, long fingers...”
“I will help.” Brad took the bottle. “Please allow me.”
The Prince’s blue eyes watched him as he uncapped the oil. Poured it into his
palm. He rubbed his hands together, but instead of touching the Prince, Brad
brought them down between his own legs. The slickness of his touch made him
shudder, and he pumped his cock a few times, enjoying the way the Prince’s eyes
darkened.
“That’s pretty,” the Prince murmured. “Very pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s going to feel good going in here.” The Prince spread his knees, sliding a
hand between his legs. “You’re nice and thick.”
“Thank you,” Brad said again.
“May I borrow some oil?”
“Of course.” Brad went to pick up the bottle, but the Prince stayed his arm.
And instead, two fingers stretched out, sliding over the head of Brad’s cock.
Brad inhaled.
“I prefer it warm,” the Prince said. “It’s nicer that way.” He rubbed the pads
of his fingers together, spreading the oil around as he settled back in his
place. “Keep going, Brad Crawford. We’ll take a moment to masturbate together.”
Brad said nothing. In fact, his hand stopped moving as the Prince pushed his
two oiled fingers inside. Heels digging into the mattress, the Prince bit his
lip.
“Ahhhh,” he breathed. “Ahhh yessss.”
Brad swallowed.
For several long minutes, the only sound in the room was the slick sound of
flesh on flesh. Brad had resumed touching himself, but his growing arousal had
nothing to do with stimulation. It was all about the Prince and the way his
hips arched up in hedonistic pleasure every time his fingers thrust inside.
“Mmmm, Brad.” Hazy blue eyes locked with Brad’s. “Give me your hand. I need
more.”
Dazed, Brad reached out, allowing the Prince to pull him closer and position
him where he wanted. With no preamble, the Prince took Brad’s index finger
inside him, adding it to the two already there, and groaning deeply as his
muscles fluttered.
“Oh, yesss.” The Prince closed his eyes in bliss. “Oh, mmmm.”
Brad’s cock twitched hard. The Prince’s free hand guided his wrist, sliding his
finger in and out. The air in the room, already warm, grew sultry, and Brad
soon found himself straddling the Prince’s hips, hard, eager cock brushing the
Prince’s stomach.
“Do you kiss, Brad Crawford?” Flushed and debauched, the Prince looked like
something straight out of the book of erotic prints Brad had found tucked in
the back of his mentor’s closet.
“Kissing is extra,” Brad answered automatically. “Uncle doesn’t like...”
“Fuck your uncle.” The Prince grabbed the back of Brad’s neck. “He’s not your
real uncle so fuck what he likes. What do you like, Brad Crawford? Do you like
to kiss?”
The Prince’s lips were red. Wet and red, like ripe, dewy berries. Suddenly,
Brad didn’t care about Uncle, or the rules, or the warnings from his training.
He wanted to kiss, and fuck, and lose himself in the unspoken promises in the
Prince’s eyes.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I like kissing.”
“Then kiss me while we fuck. I want it.”
Brad shuddered and lunged forward, bringing their mouths together in a brutal
kiss. The Prince’s body surged, his pelvis rubbing against Brad’s cock as his
ankles locked around Brad’s back. Brad worked a hand between them, spreading
the Prince wide as he pushed his fingers back in.
“Mmm yeah, nnngh, yessss.” The Prince rode his hand, needy and wanton. “Oh
c’mon Brad, give it to me.”
He was so hot. And his hot was making Brad hot. Brad had never been
disinterested in sex per se, but he’d always viewed it as an obligation. A job.
Something to be done or something done to you. But here, now, Brad finally
understood. He finally comprehended what it was that the writers and the
artists found so compelling.
“Brad.” The Prince bit his ear, tongue laving the lobe. “Brad. Your cock. Put
your cock inside me.”
Brad groaned, meeting Prince’s warm lips with another heated kiss. “Spread
wider for me,” he urged. “So you can take me all at once.”
“Mmm. Yes.”
The Prince slid his hands under his knees, opening himself even more. Brad
withdrew his hand, using it to grip himself and line them up. With no
hesitation, he pushed in, relishing the Prince’s high-pitched moan.
“Oh gods. Oh gods Brad, yes.”
The Prince dug his heels into Brad’s back. Brad rolled his hips, bracing his
hands on either side of the Prince’s shoulders. Panting now, Brad thrust,
pushing deep and hard into the Prince’s pliant and willing body.
The Prince took every stroke, begging for more.
It should have lasted longer. It should have been slower and more languid and
full of teasing and tricks, but it wasn’t. It was fast and frantic and rough
and nasty and when the Prince arched and came, coating his chest, Brad grabbed
him and flipped him over and fucked him until he came again.
And still Brad continued, riding him hard until his own pleasure overtook him
and the world went white.
Then, exhausted and spent, they fell to the mattress in a messy tangle of
sweaty limbs.
For a long moment, they just lay there, breathing. And then the Prince wiggled,
humming in contentment as he turned over.
“Brad Crawford,” he drawled. Stretching, he gave Brad a sultry grin. “I think I
have a new favorite in you. You have a naughty streak.”
Picking himself up on shaky arms, Brad and sat back on his knees. He didn’t
need a mirror to know his face and hair were a mess. But if he looked anything
like the Prince, it was a beautiful mess indeed.
“I didn’t mean to be so aggressive,” he said. “Have I hurt you?”
“Hurt me? Oh my, no. You ravished me, but I liked it very much.” The Prince sat
up, tucking his own knees underneath him. “And I am certainly glad I paid for
you for the night because I will be expecting more of the same before the sun
comes up. Lots more of the same.”
The Prince reached out, running his hands over Brad’s flaccid cock. To Brad’s
surprise, it stirred, and a new wave of hunger rolled deep in his belly.
“Perhaps, though,” the Prince went on, “I should offer you a little something
in return before we fuck again. Do you like having your cock sucked, Brad
Crawford? I would very much like to put my mouth on you if you’ll let me.”
Trapping his gaze with those intense blue eyes, the Prince leaned down and gave
Brad’s cock a long, wet swipe. Brad’s hands immediately burrowed into the
Prince’s hair, tangling in the silken strands.
The Prince smiled, a knowing, rich smile. “Oh Brad Crawford,” he purred. “We
are going to become such good partners in due time.” The Prince ran his lips
over the tip, sucking gently. “We are going to be the greatest lovers the world
has ever known. And every night, we are going to have amazing, amazing sex.”
Brad blinked. On some level, the weight of the Prince’s words registered, but
on another, he was hard pressed to care. The Prince had a gorgeous mouth,
gorgeous lips, and he was currently swallowing Brad’s dick like he was born to
do it.
Wanting and unashamed of it, Brad closed his eyes and let him.
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