Pairing: Jou x Ryou
Genre: AU, angst, romance
Rating: R
Words: 2316
Part: 1 of ?
Dedication: Again, for LilPurplFlwr, because this is our little pet pairing.
Warnings: Yaoi, prostitution
Summary: Ryou is a young prostitute with an abject past and present, and Jou is the young man that becomes enamored with this beautiful boy so reminiscent of a porcelain doll.
A/N: I wrote this at the end of summer 05, well more than half a year ago, and I never got around to finishing it. I'm starting to work on the next parts, and hoping that my inspiration/will won't fizzle out before this piece is finished—because I've developed a fondness for this piece and don't want to see it die an unfinished waste.
Sullied
Part One: The Encounter
"What's your name?"
The words simply drip. They slither off his tongue like thick, luscious honey, tainting the senses and inflaming the nerves. It is the voice of a whore, seasoned and sullied—not the voice of a young boy, like the one standing before him.
His hair falls over his eyes in spiked strands, some reaching down to tickle the plush rose petals of his mouth. A sharp canine protrudes from between the flesh, and the boy grins slightly as he digs his thumbs into the paltry jeans that cover his hips, gloriously low as to display the jut of his hipbones. His foot is propped against the brick wall, hips pushed forward, and his body screams to be ravaged.
"What's it matter to you?" he replies, keeping his voice flat.
His eyes slit seductively, lashes fluttering coquettishly against the pale curve of his cheekbones before he shrugs nonchalantly. "Come on, handsome," he purrs, "I just wanna know, is all."
A pause, then: "Jounouchi."
"Jounouchi," the boy reiterates, tasting the syllables on his tongue and letting the name spin through the cavern of his mouth. "Nice to meetcha, Jou." He smiles then, head tilting to the side to display the pallid column of flesh that is his throat. Jou can't help but stare as he swallows, watching his Adam's Apple bob up and down beneath the thin layer of skin and flesh.
"And, you; what's your name?"
The boy's smile widens and he chuckles softly beneath his breath, the sound sensual and, at the same time, melancholic. "How about we just focus on you, cutie."
Another couple exits from the club via the back alley passage, giggling foolishly and clutching at each other. They wobble with each step and reek of alcohol. He watches them absently as they stumbled off to a nearby car, no doubt planning to celebrate the night in a most unwholesome manner.
The boy shifts backwards, blending into the shadows and simply disappearing. Jou can scarcely see him, but for his outline that flashes repeatedly with the light that escapes from the club entrance before the door falls shut once more.
"How old are you?" he asks next, clutching his jacket closer to him. It is chilly outside, and he can only imagine what goose bumps must have arisen on the other's skin.
The boy pushes off from the wall at this moment, moving out of the shadows and into the dim lighting of the sputtering street lamp. Jou stands still as he comes closer, but as arms wrap swiftly around his shoulders, he realizes he can't breathe.
"As old as you want me to be," the boy murmurs into his ear, fingers toying with the strands of hair lying at the nape of his neck. A slight shiver crawls down his spine as the other's nail drags across his skin, and he has to turn his head away lest he do something he regret.
He only realizes how malnourished the boy is when he presses up against him. At that proximity, he can see the dips beneath his eyes and his sunken cheeks and how dreadfully pale he seems. Curious to know more, he lifts a hand and presses it against the boy's side, feeling the ribs pushing against his palm. The boy stiffens minutely before relaxing, head dropping down onto his shoulder and humming softly.
"You're fourteen, aren't you?" he murmurs into the boy's ear, hand now resting on the sharp dip of the boy's waist.
"If you want me to be," is all the reply he receives before soft lips brush against the suddenly sensitive skin along his neck.
He stands for the longest time in the alley with the boy wrapped in his arms, staring at the dim flicker from beneath the door to the club and musing on what he should do. The boy has taken to slowly decorating his neck with little kisses—so frail, like the brush of a butterfly's wings against his skin, and it is terribly distracting.
"Come on," he says finally, pulling away and taking a hold of the other's wrist. It is all hard bone beneath his hand, and he wants nothing more than to feel it plump up with proper flesh.
The boy tilts his head up, eyebrow arching delicately as a wan smile spreads across his lips. "And just where are you taking me?" he asks nonchalantly.
"You'll see," Jou replies as he tugs gently on the wrist in his hold. The boy holds his ground, however.
"I don't come cheap, you know."
Jou, who has turned his head and is looking for where he has parked his car, turns back to eye the boy momentarily. When he is met with hooded chocolate eyes, he smiles slowly and shrugs a bit, playing along with the whole façade. "How about we talk about this afterwards."
The other chuckles softly, flicking hair out of his eyes before shrugging dainty shoulders. "Whatever works for you, cutie." And with that, he proceeds to fall into step next to him, walking as if he belonged at Jou's side.
The car ride is spent in silence. Neither feels that it is appropriate to engage in idle conversation any longer.
The boy merely stares out of the window, head leaning against the cool glass and breathing so soft it seems as if he were dead. His hands twine with each other on his lap, twisting and twisting until they are merely a jumble of sinews and bone so that Jou can barely tell where one begins and the other ends. Otherwise, he stays perfectly still, a pretty porcelain doll against the dark leather interior of his car.
However, he does move when Jou brings the car to a stop.
"Huh?"
The engine dies softly, a soft metallic purr before the silence creeps back up upon them. Jou pulls the key out of the ignition and drops it back into his pocket before turning to eye the young boy at his side. "Get out."
"… We're at a restaurant."
Jou smiles softly and nods a bit, moving to get out of the car. "I know."
Seeing as Jou has shut the door on him, the boy is forced to leave the vehicle in order to speak to him. Once he enters the cool night air again, he promptly shivers—but the action is covered as he sensually wraps his arms around himself and slides his palms up and down the skin of his arms. "So what exactly is the meaning of this, huh, Jou?"
Jou makes his way around the vehicle, lifting a hand to touch his finger against the other boy's chin, tilting his face up with gentle pressure. "I like to treat my dates to dinner before anything else."
A slender eyebrow arches as the boy regards him curiously. "Do you always do this with all the whores you pick up?"
"I don't know. I guess I'll have to tell you after I pick up another."
The boy regards him for a moment before shrugging silently in agreement to the current arrangements. Jou smiles once more before walking to the entrance and opening the door, holding it open until the other boy passes through.
The restaurant, a fairly cozy deal, is quiet as they enter. Seeing the late time, it isn't unusual for the lack of hustle and bustle. The waiter eyes the boy oddly for a moment before nodding and leading them to a table near the back, secluded and hidden partially in the shadows. With the way the boy sags down with a soft sigh in the plush seats, it seems as if he is glad for the darkness—then again, perhaps stares aren't always kind.
They eat mostly in silence. Initially, the boy merely picks at his food, as if afraid to take a whole bite—as if it will make him undesirable if Jou sees him eating like a normal human being. But when Jou refuses to touch his own food unless he does, he loses his timidity and manages to finish the whole plate of ravioli in record time. He does blush charmingly, however, when Jou chuckles at him from across the table.
Jou will never utter this aloud, but he thinks that the way the flush spreads up from his neck and across his cheeks is extremely attractive. It lights up the pallid expanse of his skin and brings a warmth to his features that was previously dormant.
Eleven o'clock sees them back in the safety of Jou's car, speeding down the surface streets once more.
When they arrive at the hotel, the boy silently gets out of the car without any questions or complaints. He merely smiles coyly at Jou from across the hood of his car before walking confidently towards the entrance to the building, the blond trailing behind him. The hotel is lavish, but not exceedingly so—the lounge is filled with armchairs and little tables fit to carry expensive cocktails.
The boy looks appreciatively around as Jou arranges proper rooming with the clerk at the front desk. After a moment a considerable sum is removed from his wallet. Slipping his wallet, the leather soft from years of use, back into his pocket, Jou nods and grabs the keycard.
"Come on."
The boy blinks a bit as he turns around, smiling and ignoring the odd look he is getting from the clerk. "What room are we?"
Jou begins walking towards the elevator, strides long and languid, as he speaks. "Six thirty-two. It's a balcony room."
The elevator doors part with a swish of turning gears, and the boy merely chuckles as he steps onto the red carpeting of the moving cubicle. "Not like the view will matter much."
The hall is dim—mood lighting, Jou assumes—as he counts down the numbers. One after the other they pass gilded doors with pristine number plates impressed upon the wood. Six twenty-six, six twenty-eight, six thirty—
"Here's ours," Jou speaks quietly as he slides the keycard through the slot. The light turns green with the sound of a click, and he pushes the door open easily. The dark corridor leading to the bedroom looms before them, quiet and still.
The boy waltzes in flippantly, turning on the lights as if he's been inside these generic hotel rooms a dozen times—and it is depressing to think that he mostly likely has.
Jou closes the door quietly behind himself and slips off his coat, dropping the article of clothing down onto a nearby chair. "I'm going to the bathroom. Make yourself comfortable."
The boy nods absently as he plops down on the bed, the mattress jolting beneath his sudden weight and bouncing slightly with a quiet creak. Raising a brow, he bounces on the bed in experiment once more, listening to the creaks, a lazy grin spreading across his lips. "Why do I feel like they gave us this bed purposefully?"
Jou merely chuckles as he disappears into the bathroom. In a matter of moments, the shower turns on.
The boy flops back on the bed, sighing as he stares up at the ceiling. But seeing as his sleeping conditions, on a normal basis, were less than satisfactory, his exhaustion soon catches up with him, and he falls asleep to the soothing thrum of running water.
-----
The boy blinks a bit, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up on the bed. The windows are still open, and the dark sky spreads out before his eyes, dotted with the fluorescent buildings of the city. Outside, it looks dreadfully superficial and fake—a cityscape of metal buildings and plastic smiles and trodden hearts. As he stares at a glowing billboard, he feels terribly dirty.
Which is odd, seeing as he didn't even take off his clothes tonight.
Fine brows crinkle in confusion, and the boy turns to glance around the room. The bedspread is rumpled where he has been lying, but the other side is perfectly unmarred. And Jou is nowhere to be found.
"Jou?" he tries tentatively, ears perked and awaiting an answer. All that he receives is the dull thrum of silence.
Sighing, he drops back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating his situation. Here he is, a street whore in a hotel room, untouched and customer for the night missing in action. It's something he certainly isn't used to.
After a moment, he sits up again, intent on heading to the bathroom and taking a shower. If he is in a luxury hotel, he plans to take advantage of it; the grime and grit on his skin suddenly feels tenfold worse. But as he is pushing off of the mattress, he notices a sheet of paper lying on the bed stand which he'd overlooked previously.
Curious, he picks up the sheet, eyes skimming over the neat script quickly.
Dear Whoever You May Be,
I'm terribly sorry for leaving you, but I have my reasons. The room and board has been paid for, for the time of three days; so, please, enjoy your stay. It would be a waste of money for you to leave. I've also left a hundred dollars in the top drawer of the bed stand. You know, for food expenses or whatever you may need.
I'd love to talk to you again, and I'm still dying to know your name. Call me if you wish. If you decide not to, it was nice meeting you. I must say it was a rather interesting experience.
The boy eyes the phone number written beneath the signature for a long moment. Promptly dropping the letter, he opens the drawer and sure enough, there is the neatly folded bill, sitting atop the hotel notepad.
Thinking about it all, he can't help but laugh.
Outside, the stars fade in the fluorescent glow.
-TBC-