Opium Haze

Trigger Warning for pedophilia, rape, and drug use by minors.

"How old are you, boy?" asked the client. Everything about him was both hungry and excited. The greedy rush of words with a tell-tale hitch at the end. The sweat that did not bead, but pooled atop his forehead. His thick neck which worked hard to choke down a mouthful as saliva. The way his pudgy, sausage fingers wrung together, waiting for the mistress to leave. The finery he donned like they were rags.

Gray blinked slowly, not wanting to answer and barely even able to call forth the information at all. The man asked again and the mistress snapped the flat of the riding crop over the back of his hand.

"Six, sir," he replied at last. He didn't like pain. It split the familiar haze.

"Six..." the man whispered, breath wheezing out. "Good. Good."

Then the mistress left. The steady sway of her hips marking her progress out the door. Gray followed that sway, chased her with his eyes. In some distant part of his mind he knew that after she left bad things would happen and the haze would clear just enough that he would realize he didn't want what was to come.

Now the hungry man could feast.

At first the client just sat down on the edge of Gray's round bed, thumbing satiny sheets before he picked up Gray's tiny little hand. He thumbed this too. The man's other hand gripped the boy's chin lightly, directing it so that Gray's eyes fell on him. As he did so Gray felt something warm and wet roll over his cheek. He lapped it up quickly: salty. The man grinned, showing off pearly white, crooked teeth; like he though Gray had licked his lips for him.

The man rushed Gray, the bigger frame pressing the smaller one into the pillows. A voice screamed in his head, that this was wrong. He didn't want this. But he felt weak, under the haze of his mind that hadn't been clear in so long. Fingers explored his chest, a mouth that burned like acid drifted over his skin, leaving a trail of slimy spittle down his body.

No... "No. I-I don't-"

"You do," the man cooed as pulled Gray's too thin, too see-through clothes from his body. Tugging them over smaller hips that wanted to be bony but couldn't be for the remaining baby fat. "You're a big boy, you can handle these adult games."

Gray shook his head weakly. He attempted to claw through the haze. His face was now streaked with those salty, warm tears. He cried a small "no" again; whatever sound came was tiny and reticent. He tried to squeeze his legs shut. When that didn't work, when that man pushed them apart once more and-

When that didn't work he took a great gulp of drugged air and squeezed his eyes shut, hopping that when he awoke all the bad people and bad things would be gone away.


A/N: I... did not enjoy writing this and indeed I felt vile after. Though I'm glad I didn't enjoy it. All things said and done. This isn't a new story and has been completed for a while. I still haven't written fanfiction and still have no plans to despite loving and respecting the medium. However, I'm still writing stories and would always love any feedback given. :)