Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12877362.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Prostitution, Rape, Blow_Jobs, Loss_of_Virginity,
      Painful_Sex, Public_Sex, Shame
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-01 Chapters: 2/? Words: 7296
****** the customer is always right ******
by waltz_(choke)
Summary
     Money is hard to come by when you're not old enough to work a
     conventional job.
Notes
     Dumping some PWP hooker fic I wrote a while ago. Not meticulously
     edited or fiddled with. Just wanted to put it somewhere.
***** 1st *****
"Wanna make some money?"
Nearby, Yuri can hear the excitement of a party. The music being muffled
doesn't mean much at this volume-- it can be heard down the entire street. He
had been thinking to himself that it was a wonder the police hadn't been called
yet. It was a wonder that at 2 oclock in the morning, the party was allowed to
continue at such an impressive volume. There was clearly a bonfire burning too
and the weather has been so dry lately, so that's another thing. The smoke is
giving him a bit of a headache as he passes by. He'd like to keep going. He'd
like to get as far away from this street as he can. It should be okay to return
home soon, after all. But he's been brought to a halt by an adult man he's
never seen before.
"You wanna earn some cash?"
The man repeats himself like he didn't phrase it clearly enough. He definitely
came from the house party. It's obvious that he isn't sober, though Yuri can't
be sure if it's just from alcohol; he's never been around drugs before, but
this guy looks like the type. He doesn't want to be intimidated, but he is-
- he's never been approached by someone while walking around at night and he
can only think of the shit he sees on TV. Even if they're just special effects
and actors and actresses, a few of his favorite shows are centered around
criminals and the crimes they commit. Mostly murder-- someone always dies.
God, what is he thinking? This guy isn't gonna kill him. He might be shady, but
he can't be a murderer.
"Not really," he eventually mutters, just wanting to get away from him.
Murderer or not, he stinks.
"You look like a kid who needs money." The guy flashes him a grin. There's a
gap between his two front teeth.
"I don't. I'm on my way home, I don't need money." Money would be nice. He'd
have less to worry about-- it's not like Mom cooks much anymore, so he could
feed himself for a long time on that much. Maybe he could put some away and buy
a new phone. Yeah, money would be fucking nice. Yuri hates how his voice comes
out. He sounds timid. A little bothered.
Maybe encouraged by that, thinking he can coax him into doing whatever job he's
got in mind, this stranger isn't giving up. "You don't even want to know how
much I'd pay you?"
"... How much?" He's not agreeing to anything. He's just finding out how much
it would be.
Simply: "Hundred bucks."
"One hundred?" There's a lot Yuri could do with a hundred dollars, but he's
suspicious. "... I don't want to do anything that'll get me in shit."
"You won't get in shit. All you gotta do is spend a little time with me." It's
clear he means something by that, but Yuri doesn't know for sure what that
might be. It sounds weird. Why would anyone pay someone to hang out with them?
He seems to have worn his doubt a little too openly, though, because the guy is
sighing and stepping a bit closer and Yuri can smell the booze roll off his
breath. "I'm a lonely guy, so just spend some time with me. I'll pay you when
we get to the hotel."
It gives him a bad feeling, but the bad feeling is easy enough to push away.
One hundred dollars. As much food as he can eat or maybe money put toward a
nice phone. All for something as simple as spending time with this guy. Yuri
doesn't need to think about it very long.
"... If you promise not to do anything weird... sure."
---
This fucking guy really can't shut up.
"So what's a kid like you doing around here at this time of night?"
"Nothing."
"Aw, come on. Don't shut me out like that. You do this a lot?"
"Do what a lot? ... My stepdad doesn't like me. That's it. You satisfied?"
He gets his hair ruffled for his answer. Like he feels sorry for him. Yuri
swats at his hand, and the guy takes him by the wrist.
The two of them came to the hotel without any issue. Barely met anyone besides
the woman who showed them to the room. It's a cool hotel-- Yuri's never stayed
at a hotel before, so he spent the first little bit looking around the place.
Finding the tiny shampoo bottles and the little bars of soap. It was
interesting, and pretty fun-- the guy was kinda creepy, but he could enjoy the
experience all the same. But eventually he went to sit on the bed, and the guy
came to sit next to him. Real close. It felt weird. The atmosphere in the room
changed, and he started asking him questions about his life. What're your
grades like? You got a girlfriend? You play sports? Shit like that. He couldn't
think of any convincing ones, so he didn't bother lying.
With Yuri's thin wrist held in one of his large hands, the man grabs him by the
face. Yuri's heart is beating a mile a minute now. He's kind of scared. He
doesn't know what set him off, but there's a weird look on his face, almost
like contempt. He tries to speak, but he doesn't know what to say. Yuri feels
frozen in place, turned to stone under his gaze. Even as he leans closer, close
enough he can feel his whiskey breath on his face, Yuri doesn't move. He just
stiffens up even more. The man is meeting his eyes, looking at him in a way
he's never been looked at before. He grins, pleased-- drunk and giddy off the
fear that's so clearly reflected in his face. He drags Yuri closer by the jaw,
laying a kiss on his mouth.
His lips are chapped and rough. His grip is tight enough that Yuri can't twist
his face away. His tongue is slimy and wet as it drags across his soft mouth,
forcing past his pressed-together lips and licking up against his front teeth.
Yuri shivers violently, and the man pulls back. His first kiss. That was his
first kiss. He'd never thought it'd be like this. Yuri never thought that a
complete stranger would pry his first kiss out of him like it was something he
was owed. His jaw is released, but he's smacked lightly on the cheek when he
tries to look away. His face is burning red, and he realizes far too late that
he misunderstood what this guy wanted from him.
"Was that your first kiss?"
Yuri can't look at him. He can't turn away either, so he stares at the guy's
neck as he comes to grip his jaw again, silent. He finds both his hands coming
to rest on his arm, as though wanting to tug himself free.
"Come on. I asked you a question."
His tone, low and dangerous, sends a surge of panic through him. Yuri answers
right away. "Yes."
"Are you a virgin?"
The question makes him feel impossibly scandalized. Is it wimpy to be so upset
by such a simple question? Maybe it is. But he can see the implication now, the
hints of where this will go, and he's scared. "None of your business."
He hears him sigh, and Yuri squeezes his eyes shut as he twists his head
around. Tilts his chin up. He leans in close and licks up the shell of his ear.
It tickles, and Yuri flinches away from it, sucking in a quick breath. The guy
tongues his earlobe before sucking on it, and it makes the blood rush straight
to his head, dizzyingly intense. "Ah--" He can't help his voice, and he's
humiliated for it. It doesn't even feel good-- it's just overwhelmingly
sensitive.
"There's no way you're not a virgin. Fuck."
The guy's hand moves to lightly grip Yuri's throat, and that freaks him out
badly. The complete and utter shock has worn off, and Yuri is realizing he has
to fight. He can't just sit idly by as this guy does what he pleases with him.
So he fights-- he digs his nails into his hand, trying to tear him away, and
the guy only increases his grip. Panic gets him to lash out further, striking
at his shoulders and chest, his elbow and face. The man takes to that as well
as a beehive takes to being shot, pressing Yuri down into the bed by the throat
with a violence he's never seen before. It winds him. He feels like he can't
breathe. And eventually he seems to realize that, because he drops his neck in
favor of pinning his arms up above his head. Yuri coughs, chest heaving with
breath.
"Cooperate, and I won't hurt you," he says. "You fight me and I'll fight back.
I'm going to pay you, you can't decide you don't want to after all." He might
as well have told Yuri 'I'll kill you'. There's no choice. He has to go along
with this. He looks away, and his passive, quiet submission is all the guy
needs. "Keep your mouth open."
Even though he's thought to himself already that there's nothing else he can do
but play along, he really doesn't want to do just that. He hesitates, knowing
it could get him in trouble but being unable to do anything else. Well, the
decision is quickly made for him. The guy uses his spare hand to drag him by
the chin to look at him. It's a rough motion that hurts a little, but Yuri
doesn't complain besides to scowl.
"You're feisty," he laughs lightly to himself, sounding particularly far from
sober before he covers Yuri's mouth with his own.
It's so hard not to resist. He tries to pull away, but the hand at his jaw
reminds him that he literally can't-- he can only keep his mouth open as
instructed, wincing at the taste of his tongue as it's slid into his mouth.
There's definitely liquor in the flavor, but something else-- something sour,
something bitter. It repulses him and he tries his best not to react, letting
him lick up at his mouth possessively, wishing away the slick feeling
enveloping his senses even as it makes him shudder in a way that he can't put a
name to. Is it disgust or pleasure?
His prayers get answered as the man pulls back, releasing his jaw, but it's a
momentary respite. Breathing hard, Yuri glares at him, and as if in response he
threads his fingers through Yuri's hair, brushing it out of his face. It's
grown out a bit longer than he'd like it to be, going from an unmistakeably
masculine hairstyle to something closer to a girl's haircut. He's touched his
hair twice now-- is he into that? He doesn't really know why it occurs to him
like that then, but it does, and he keeps on petting his hair until suddenly,
like he's gotten sick of it, he yanks on it. Hard enough that it makes his eyes
water.
"Ow! What the fuck--"
"-- You can't just lay there. Kiss back. You don't know how? Just follow my
lead."
Before Yuri can reply, he's kissing him again. That awful taste again, and he's
going at it with a lot more passion than he just had been. He laps against his
tongue and though he hesitates a beat, Yuri slowly moves against him, feeling
himself break out in gooseflesh like from the cold. Though it doesn't get rid
of the awful taste, the added friction starts to build up-- it starts to feel
good. There's no greater shame than realizing that. As Yuri cooperates,
following the stranger's lead in their messy kiss, he releases his jaw. He
slides his hand down his front very gradually, very slowly. It feels weird, but
as he gets past his chest to his stomach, he jumps-- the feeling of his broad
hand on his soft stomach is foreign, completely new. The man pulls back just
enough to take Yuri's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it and chewing
lightly. It dazes him; it feels good enough that he makes a soft noise in the
back of his throat. As if encouraged, the guy darts his hand past his belly,
down to his groin. It's sudden, so Yuri can only suck in a noisy breath and
buck up into his touch.
He's at half mast just from being kissed like this and the man easily coaxes
him to full hardness by rubbing him through his jeans. He can't help but groan
quietly, breathing harsh as he pulls away from their kiss, whining as he slides
his hand toward the hem of his shirt. That lack of contact makes him ache, but
it's clear what he wants from him-- as he yanks Yuri's shirt upwards, he
realizes he wants him undressed. Yuri hesitates. No one's ever seen him naked
before. Hell, he's been lucky enough that the least amount of clothes he's ever
worn around someone else has been just swim trunks. He changes in one of the
stalls before PE at school. He doesn't like the idea of someone else seeing
him, he hates it.
But this guy isn't taking no for an answer. He's not tolerating hesitation
either. When Yuri stiffens up, he sighs, smacking his face roughly but not
painfully, like he's trying to wake him up. "Come on. Take it off."
"Can't I keep it on?" God, his voice couldn't sound more nervous, could it?
"No. Come on."
"Please?" He's never begged for anything before in his life, but he's doing it
now. Pleading. He doesn't take it-- the guy slaps him harder, enough to snap
his head to one side. It hurts and he's scared and more than that he's mad. Why
is he doing this? What the fuck did Yuri ever do to him? "What the hell is
wrong with you?!"
He doesn't respond to that. Not directly. He releases his hold on Yuri's arms,
taking two fistfulls of his shirt and pulling. Fuck, he's trying to tear it.
He's gonna ruin it. "Hang on-- hold it, I'll take it off, don't rip it--" But
it's too late. With the sound of splitting fabric, the man tears the front of
Yuri's shirt to shreds. There's not a damn thing he can fucking do about it,
either-- he hits and kicks at him with fists and feet and he barely seems to
notice, maybe too drunk or high to feel pain. He can feel his eyes stinging
with humiliation, with fear of how powerless he is in this moment. He's made it
readily apparent that he can do anything he wants with him and the only way to
reduce damage to himself and even his property is to cooperate. As the guy runs
his veiny, chilly hands across his torso, Yuri tapers off his violent
struggling and just lays there. He's been defeated.
The guy kisses him again and he numbly kisses back, letting him guide him in
what to do. Now laying beside him, the guy places his small hand on his groin.
Yuri supposes he's meant to touch him, so he does. He hears him breathe harshly
out his nose at the contact as he squeezes and rubs him like he might himself.
He gets hard so fucking fast, going from semi-hard to tenting his sweatpants in
an instant, and it disgusts him. But it's not like they're going to stop here.
It's not like things are going to get easier. So Yuri braces himself for the
next step, it of course coming too soon.
The man's veiny cock is dark and large in his pale, dainty hands, and the drunk
guy chuckles as Yuri looks down at him.
"I bet your buddies in the locker room aren't this big," he tells him. "You've
touched yourself, right? Do it just like that."
Yuri has, so he does exactly as he's been instructed, no matter how humiliating
it is. The angle is wrong, but he thinks he's doing alright. The guy sighs and
groans and grunts as he gets going, pressing his hips into his little hands,
and Yuri shudders in disgust as his palm gets slick with his precome. As he
works him over, drunk guy leans in and kisses him just briefly, licking and
sucking his way down Yuri's neck. He can only tilt his head, submissively
giving in. It's just as sensitive as his ear was, but the difference here is
that this definitely feels good. Yuri can feel his nipples tensing up as his
body reacts to his hot mouth and his dick only gets harder, pulsing with
shameful arousal and need. When he bites at him lightly, Yuri's breath can't
help but hitch. He thinks it must be encouraging the guy because suddenly, he's
removing Yuri's hand from his dick. Suddenly, he's traveling down his chest and
lapping up at one pert nipple, his hands feeling up the rest of his torso
before one slides past the waistband of his pants and boxers to cup his bare
dick. It makes him jolt-- the warm and wet sensation of his tongue against his
nipple would have done that on its own, but he outright jerks to meet his hand,
his body so inexperienced he can't control it.
"Ah-- fuck--"
Yuri can't keep his voice down as he pulls him out and strokes him proper.
Someone else's hand is on his dick. He's thought about what this might feel
like before and he never thought the first one to do it would be a drunk old
stranger. As unappealing as it is, his young body can't tell the difference and
simply reacts. His cock twitches with every pass of his tongue across his
sensitive chest and he gushes precome almost immediately, breath harsh. His
fist passes over him perfectly, and he squeezes his eyes, trying to pretend
he's with anybody else. Anybody at all.
He wouldn't be allowed that luxury, of course. "You wanna come for me? Come for
me, kid." He pulls away from his chest and pinches him before lowering his head
further down. Yuri starts to anticipate what's going to happen next, and nearly
comes on the spot as he's proven right with the feeling of his warm breath on
his sensitive cock. He laps up against his slit, tongue unbearably warm and
slick. Yuri moans, tossing his head back, chest heaving with breath. He can
feel his balls squeezing down as orgasm rapidly approaches with the way his
mouth closes over his dick, sucking just lightly. When he starts rubbing his
tongue along the junction where the head of his dick meets the shaft, he's done
for-- he comes explosively, shooting harder than he ever has before, voice loud
and shameless in the heat of the moment.
When he's done, he looks up to see the old guy wiping the corner of his mouth
clean of his semen. His face is flushed red with deep arousal and between his
legs, his dick is leaking a thick string of precome. "You like that?" Yuri is
being asked a question. It's definitely not rhetorical-- the way the guy looks
at him is pointed, one brow cocked and a cartoonish grin on his face. All he
can think of is how humiliated he is with his shirt torn open and his dick out.
So he doesn't reply, just averts his gaze. Of course, this guy likes the power.
He seems to like making Yuri feel like shit, so he grabs at his hair and yanks
his head up from the bed toward him. Yuri glares. "Tell me."
"Stop it." He's sure he'll regret saying it, but it's all he can do.
"I'm paying you," says the man as he releases him, hands coming to yank off his
pants and underwear in a jagged motion. "You have to do everything I say or you
won't see a dime of it."
Yuri is about to resist the way he undresses him, but what he says is a stark
reminder. He really is completely powerless here. Not just physically-- this
guy could pin him down and take whatever he wanted from him-- but in other
ways, too. If he were to get absolutely nothing out of this but a horrible
memory... wouldn't that be worse than anything? Cash would help him greatly,
it's why he agreed to "spend time" with this guy at all, but-- what if he got
nothing at all? Swallowing saliva and fear, Yuri lets him take off the rest of
his clothes. He lets him slide off the ruined shirt and his hoodie, he lets him
kiss him again and again, and he lets him fondle his soft, oversensitive cock.
It hurts, but he's got the sinking feeling that it's not the worst pain he'll
experience tonight.
He'd be right.
Laying on the bed with the stranger now between his calves, he forcibly spreads
open his knees and presses between his thighs, bringing one hand to play with
his balls. It's still so sensitive, and he tries to squeeze his legs shut
around him. Yuri is scared shitless. He doesn't know the first thing about how
this should go, but he knows it's supposed to hurt just from locker room jokes
between his peers. He hopes they never find out about this. He hopes they're
wrong and it doesn't hurt. Yuri tenses as he trails his hand lower, down his
taint to poke and prod at his ass. After a moment, he pulls back to dribble
lube across his fingers and starts slicking his asshole up. It feels strange.
"Can't we do something else?" Yuri tries to sound unconcerned, but he's so
scared of what's going to happen that he's shaking.
The man presses his finger inside to the first knuckle, pulling off what Yuri
tried to do-- he doesn't sound concerned at all. He absolutely doesn't care how
scared Yuri is, and even grins as he sees him grimace and feels him tense up
around his intruding finger. "Like what?"
"I could give you a blowjob," he offers desperately. "I'll do it good."
He sinks it in deeper, feeling around inside of him. It's a distinctly gross
sensation. Yuri doesn't know what his face looks like, but it must be funny,
because he barks out a laugh. "I don't think so. You'll like it. Maybe not as
much as your first blowjob, but you'll like it eventually." He jams in another
finger, and this time it hurts. He gets shushed, a hand smoothed down his
torso. "If you don't relax, this is gonna hurt worse." He goes on stretching
him out, cock twitching every time Yuri seems uncomfortable; he twitches when
he grunts in pain, when he shifts his hips, when he grimaces. It's scary being
with someone who so obviously gets off on his fear and pain-- he doesn't know
what he'll do next.
The prep goes on for too long but at the same time not long enough. He would
rather deal with his fingers than the dick he's sure will go in him next.
Popping his fingers out, the drunk old creep smacks his thigh roughly and
starts lubing up his cock. It's coming. He's going to put it in, and it's much
bigger than even four of his fingers were. There's nothing he can do-- looking
up at him in a panic, Yuri can tell that pleading would be a waste of breath.
But he tries it anyway.
"Come on," he begs. "You don't have to."
"I want to." He presses the tip of his dick to his asshole and applies slow
pressure.
"You don't have to. Come on, man, there's gotta be something else. Anything
else."
"You gonna cry? Suck it up. It won't hurt for long."
The head of his dick sinks in. It hurts, but it's just the tip. Yuri's body
stiffens up and he hangs onto the bedsheets with a white-knuckled grip. He
shoves his way in without mercy, not caring how the sting becomes a searing
burn, not minding how Yuri whines in pain, only bothered by the way he thrashes
because it's harder to stay inside-- he manages to pull him out. He pins Yuri
down by the hips, clearly annoyed in a way that makes his heart race, and
sheathes himself in a fluid motion. No slow and steady entrance, no build up,
just-- one moment he's mercifully out, and the next he's buried in, balls deep.
He groans, and Yuri does too-- him in pleasure, Yuri in pain.
It shouldn't surprise him that he doesn't wait more than a moment before
beginning to fuck him. It hurts so bad it makes his eyes water. It's intense-
- it narrows his focus down to a single point, and he can't think but to whine
and writhe. The only kindness he's afforded is that he starts off slow. He
fucks into him steadily, the bedsprings squeaking under them, even his grip on
his hips mean. Yuri closes his eyes, trying to think of anything, thinking
instead of what he'd said-- it'll hurt more if he's not relaxed. It's
impossible. How can he relax like this? Every thrust is torture. But he tries.
He tries so hard to keep his body calm, to try not to brace and tense for the
next time he slams in. It's true that it doesn't hurt as bad this way. So he
breathes in and out, slow and steady, trying his damnedest to calm himself,
praying that the pain will ease.
And it does.
As his pace ramps up and he starts to fuck him harder, Yuri has managed to keep
himself calm. It's a weird state of mind. He feels like he's tricked himself
into a trance. But his body isn't jumping at every movement anymore-- it feels
gross and weird and invasive and certainly sore, but it doesn't hurt. Even
those things begin to fade the further into that trance he falls. Barely
moving, he lets his body be used, and the way it feels starts to change. It's
such a slow transformation-- or maybe the way time falls apart is just his
imagination. But the abscence of pain does a weird thing to him. He can feel
his cock getting hard. The dick in him brushes through him in a way that makes
his breath come short, starts to make him feel good. He's getting off on this.
He's getting off from a complete and utter stranger fucking his ass without
even a condom.
And he seems to realize that-- he slaps Yuri's thighs, grinning broadly, and
comes to lick the tears off his face. Leaned forward, he goes on to kiss him,
fucking him relentlessly, and when his hand finds his small dick, Yuri moans
against his mouth. It's the most humiliating moment of his life when he
realizes how much this is turning him on, but he can't do a damn thing to stop
it. He can only be fucked, squirming as pleasure truly takes hold with the hand
pumping him over. His fuck comes faster and rougher until he jostles him too
much to kiss without their teeth knocking together. He pinches and squeezes
Yuri's pink nipples with his spare hand as Yuri willingly holds his legs spread
open for him, bucking up into him with every thrust. He knows he's sobbing,
snot faced and unsightly, but he can't help that either. It feels too good.
It's overwhelming. He can't think straight, and he can't take much more of
this.
The stranger moans loudly, groaning and sighing as their bodies work together,
and abruptly holds Yuri still by the hips. He fucks into him especially
roughly-- enough that he feels like he's going to break-- and comes inside,
cock twitching violently as he lets his load off deep in him. Realizing what
he's done, Yuri moans. It's disgusting. He could get sick from it. But Yuri
can't help but be turned on as this guy reaches completion by using his body.
As though savouring it, he fucks in and out of Yuri once more, gentle, before
pulling out completely. He's sure to watch the semen slither out of him.
But the guy glances up at his dick like he's remembering something, and goes
back to jerking him. He wants to watch Yuri come again, clearly-- he's so
embarrassed by the feeling of his slimy hands and eyes on him, but he really
wants to come, too. So he lets him do with him as he wants, sobbing out a
broken moan as he's wrung off the edge, his small load splattering against his
own belly as he orgasms harder than he did from the blowjob.
Mere moments later, it's the shame that hits him harder than anything. As soon
as the drunk guy is pulling away from the bed to dress himself, even though
he's still half-dazed from his orgasm, Yuri hides himself under the blanket. He
looks at anything but the stranger he just lost his virginity to. The walls.
The ceiling. The furniture on the opposite side of the room. Though he didn't
want it, he ended up liking it, and it makes him feel sick. It makes him feel
like he's done something terribly wrong. He feels naive for thinking the guy
meant anything but sex. He knows he's crying again, and he knows a guy
shouldn't sob like a fucking girl, but-- he can't stop himself. So he doesn't.
He's shook out of his daze by the feeling of something being thrown at his
legs. ... It's a wad of bills.
"Thanks for spending time with an old man." Even with his vision blurred, he's
counting bills. There's more money here than he promised. Hundred and twenty
bucks. Yuri looks up at him, unsure. Like he's about to crack a great joke, the
old guy smiles, seeming deranged. "You were good. You should consider taking it
up full time."
With that, he's gone. The hotel room is paid for for the night, and he's alone
in it. He's escaped his mom for a night and made some money. That wasn't so
bad, was it? His bad feelings are all him overreacting, right? Yuri wonders
that to himself as he wipes his face clean, re-counting the cash again and
again. It's more money in one place than he's seen his whole life.
***** ???st *****
Chapter Notes
     This doesn't have a "proper" ending but I covered the bits that
     matter. Probably.
There's a big storm brewing, and the last thing Yuri wants is to get caught in
it. He slept outside yesterday, tucked away in a park, and was woken up this
morning by light rain. It'd just been overcast then. With the thick, dark
clouds looming above, he knows it's going to be much worse. He's got to find
someone.
Since he's been at this for a few months now, he's started to pick up on things
better. It's become clear to him now that the kind of person to sleep with a 14
year old hooker has a certain look about them. A certain air. Maybe Yuri is
just kidding himself-- he's not always right. He could easily be trying to form
a pattern to soothe himself. But he's right more than he was when he started,
and that's what counts. He wanders around like he normally would at this time
of day, looking for someone who seems to fit the bill, air taking on that
earthy scent as it comes closer and closer to actually raining.
He's lucky today. Yuri spots a man in a back alleyway who clearly works at the
shop he's smoking beside. He's old, tall but stocky, and more importantly he
seems to have that aura around him. So he approaches without much in the way of
hesitation. Yuri watches as he looks up at him, eyes drawn to the motion, and
tries not to be nervous.
After all, it's smooth sailing after those first few seconds.
"You wanna have a good time?" Yuri wills his voice to stay steady, but it
wavers just a touch toward the end.
The stranger looks at him for a moment like he doesn't believe what he's
hearing. "You're kidding."
"... No, I'm not kidding," he can't help but frown. He's been asked this sort
of thing so many times before it's just a waste of time to him now.
"How much?" He flicks the ash at the end of his cigarette.
Yuri responds eagerly and earnestly. Hopefully. "20 for a blowjob and 60 for a
night."
"Good fucking luck with that."
The laugh and grin dash that hope instantly. He was just asking to mess with
him. Yuri's ears go red in shame, but he persists. "I can do less. 50?"
"No, I'm on the clock."
"Then 15. We can go over there. I'm good. It'll be quick."
"Knock it off. You're a cute kid, but--"
He can't help but be frustrated. He's humiliated to have to negotiate like
this. He's not interested. What about him is undesireable? "But what?"
"I'm not gay."
Ah. That. He snorts. "I know I look like a fucking chick. If it bugs you so
much I won't make a sound. Ten bucks and you can come on my face. Don't you
wanna come on my face?"
The look the guy throws him is incredulous, but Yuri's sure it's not entirely
uninterested. He's silent, just smoking almost thoughtfully, and he says it
quiet when he finally speaks up. "... Five."
Yuri holds his hand out, and the guy looks around before digging out his wallet
and dropping change into his hand. He counts it quickly. 4.80. "Over the corner
here should hide us from the street."
Once positioned with the john's back against the brick wall of his workplace,
Yuri drops to his knees. He's getting better at all of this-- he doesn't fumble
with the belt buckle as he once might have and his hands don't shake much
either. He flicks his eyes up at him, biting his lip like he's turned on or
nervous as he pulls him out of his boxers. He's already getting stiff. For
someone who was so reluctant, he sure is into this.
He wanted this to be fast, right? So Yuri doesn't waste time. He strokes him
fully erect, watching as his foreskin swallows up the dark head of his cock
before retreating, slithering down the shaft. He's not unclean, but he has a
strong odor to him. When Yuri wraps his lips around him, the taste is like that
smell.
There's no way he'd admit it to anyone, but this is always part he likes best
of everything. It's easy to suck cock. He likes the taste and he likes having
something in his mouth. The rhythmic motions come naturally. Even if he chokes
on it, at least that never lasts long. He isn't sore the next day from it. And
johns seem to really like it all the rest aside. It's the one thing he's asked
for the most.
So he works the john's dick like he enjoys it. He sucks at him like he's trying
to wring the cum from him, slips his tongue on him like he can't get enough of
the taste. He strokes his balls idly, squeezing lightly, hardly paying
attention with his focus elsewhere but not wanting to leave them neglected. He
bobs his head quickly, moving from base to tip and tip to base, the head of his
swollen cock beating at the back of his throat. A thick mixture of semen and
saliva builds up in his mouth, aiding in the quick slippery movements.
The john takes him by the hair. He can hear him cursing above the slick noises
of his mouth. He holds him firmly in place and Yuri moves to brace his hands
against his thighs, knowing what comes next-- and he isn't proven even remotely
wrong. The guy fucks into his mouth slowly, as though testing how to do it, but
there's nothing to it. Just a snap of his hips and a push and pull here and
there. Yuri just keeps latched on, careful to let him guide him, careful to
keep watching his teeth even as he's overwhelmed by his escalating pace. He can
feel his balls hitting his chin. Yuri's eyes water as he's used, gagging again
and again but not daring to complain.
After all, if he can finish faster like this, what's even the big deal?
When he finally pulls out, it's with a long string of frothy spit snapping off.
It's disgusting but Yuri looks up at him, face flushed, lips dark and eyes red.
He sticks out his tongue, lapping up at him as he rubs on his face, breath
harsh as he taps himself out. He pulses a heavy load of sticky cum across his
face and Yuri closes his eyes, feeling it fall across his eyelid and cheeks and
tongue. His hold on Yuri's head is finally released and he settles back, wiping
at his eye and finding that only smears it worse.
He takes off his bag and digs around for a napkin, trying to wipe himself clean
the best he can. The john is already tucked away, moving to leave-- but Yuri
calls out to him.
"W-wait," he says, voice hoarse. "25 and a hotel room and you can fuck me as
many times as you want tonight. Please."
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah. I want you to fuck me," Yuri says, humiliated but willing to do anything
to keep him lured in.
"Well, too bad. I got a store to run."
"W-when do you get off? I can wait. It's gonna pour. I don't want to be stuck
out here."
Something in the old bastard's expression softens. Like it just dawned on him
that he might be homeless. "I'm gonna make you work hard. Wait over there till
I'm done."
---
When they get to the cheap hotel, the first thing the john does is take off his
clothes. Yuri follows his lead and gets out the condoms and lube and napkins
from his bag. He settles on the bed. The john hasn't touched him-- just watched
from a distance. He's probably not into foreplay with a guy. Though he thinks
it would help him relax, it doesn't matter. He can only prepare himself and
hope for the best.
As Yuri slicks his fingers up and reaches between his legs, the john watches on
with open disgust. "What are you doing? Playing with yourself?"
Humiliation sears through him, but he doesn't stop. He just looks away. "You're
way bigger than me," he says, trying to hide that he's short of breath. "If you
just put it in you'd tear me up."
The john seems to accept that, however momentarily. He's asking again a moment
later, weight dipping the mattress. "Are you done yet?"
"No," he replies.
"I think you're done." He's crawling onto the bed. Moving between his knees,
dragging him by the hips and pressing close so his soft prick rests on top of
Yuri's taint. It happens before he can react.
"Don't," Yuri says, trying to draw his legs closed, kicking, trying to squirm
out of his vicelike grip. "Stop it. Put the condom on."
"I don't want to do either of those things. Stay still." Pulled back, he's
snatching the lube up and drizzling it on Yuri's hole and his now erect dick.
Not full mast, but hard enough that it should go in. Yuri feels a sickening
sense of dread but isn't allowed to dwell on it. He pushes into him, slowly
savoring the way his hot insides wrap around him. He knows he's tense-- it can
only be tightening up what he's feeling now, and the look on his face tells him
he's enjoying it. Yuri can't say anything. He can only grit his teeth and try
to bear that invasive stretch.
He thrusts shallowly, hips jostling him and his pelvis slapping into Yuri's ass
and thighs, and practically grinds into him. His breath comes in short pained
pants; as he draws back enough to slam into him thoroughly, Yuri whines. He
repeats it again and again, watching him closely, idly drawing his hands across
his belly and tapping his cock out, trying to get him hard. For the most part
it doesn't work, but it succeeds in transforming something entirely painful,
entirely scary into something a little less than that.
It doesn't take long at all for him to wring the first groan of pleasure out of
him. He keeps fucking him with those long strokes, moving fast and building up
force for it. He strikes his prostate like a match striking sandpaper and he
can't help but moan, reeling, core pulsing and twitching around him, and holds
himself still to let it happen again. Frustratingly, it doesn't-- he aches for
more and fucks back against him, meeting his movements with enough enthusiasm
that he slips out. The john lines himself back up and keeps going.
"You like it," he whispers, voice taking on the edge of someone meaning to
belittle. "You fucking slut."
It hurts and humiliates him to be talked to like that but Yuri just nods, cock
twitching on his belly as he strikes that explosive point once again. Again and
Yuri's voice hits that shameless pitch, the sort of voice so far removed from
how he sounds day to day. Once more, a light brush, and the john comes inside,
holding still, cock twitching as he blows his load spectacularly early. Yuri
whines and squirms but catches himself and turns his head to the side.
He drapes close and he can feel the john's breath against his face. His ear.
His neck. He licks his cheek, trailing a wet strip to his ear where he sucks at
the lobe and Yuri supposes he did say he was going to work him hard. It figures
that he's not done; it figures that he's using him as a cockwarmer, as a sex
toy. His hands grope up his chest, squeezing and pinching and twisting his
nipples until Yuri cries out, squriming, twitching his body away from him but
not raising a hand to push him away.
Before long, he moves again. He fucks his own semen out of Yuri's ass and he
feels it dribble down his thighs, onto the sheets. He laps up at his pink
nipples and the spit wetness in the cool air makes him shiver as he's pistoned
into violently, helplessly turned on by sheer physical stimulation. He keeps
fucking him like that-- eye to eye, watching everything laid out so plainly in
the expressions that flicker across his face, and reaches down between their
bellies to jerk him.
"Come, you dirty little bitch," he commands him, and Yuri hates it, but he
does. Eyes squeezed shut, he gushes cum and writhes underneath him as the
orgasm is wrung out of his young, reactive body. It feels great in that moment
and guilt eats at him immediately. But the john doesn't slow down at all. Not
unexpected, but he jerks and twitches away from him with every pass of his dick
through him. It's so sensitive it's sore and it's quickly becoming painful. He
doesn't let go of his dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts, working him
over till Yuri tries to tug his wrist away. He lets him. Groaning, the john
mutters to him. "You're so fucking tight." He comes not a moment later.
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