Living his life without knowing whether today would be the day his landlord finally decided he'd had enough of allowing him to pay only half of his rent at a time, or wondering if he'd have enough money to pay for food brought a sense of desperation that he'd never known he could feel. Every day was a struggle – should he give that bit of extra money to the landlord, or allow himself a second meal for the day?
With his options as grim as they seemed, he knew he needed more money. He couldn't sacrifice what little food he managed to buy, and he certainly couldn't end up on the streets. He knew the kinds of things that happened there, and simply refused to allow it to happen to him. But his options were limited. A high school dropout, his choice of employment wasn't great to begin with, and when he did finally manage to find some menial job, it never lasted long. He was never really given a reason for why he was fired, but he soon noticed a pattern. He'd be questioned on the nail polish he wore, or someone would notice him glancing a little too long at a male customer or one of his coworkers. Then, within a day or two, he'd be without work again, many times without being paid for the work he'd already done.
And then he'd found a job they couldn't fire him from for being gay. He still wasn't sure how it had happened. One moment, he was looking for a job as a dishwasher at a dingy restaurant, the next the manager had taken him to talk to a friend of his. He hadn't liked the way the man had looked at him, but he was desperate for work, and so he followed him to the basement, which was actually much better kept than the rest of the place. He was taken into a small room where a well-dressed man sat behind a small desk.
The conversation with the man was a blur to him, whether because he truly couldn't remember it, or because he'd simply blocked it out. He'd known what the man was telling him, and had wanted to refuse, but he couldn't. He needed the money. He needed to survive. And the money he was being offered would be more than enough. And so he'd found himself with a new job. If it could be called that.
He had learned very quickly how to please a man with his mouth. He knew just what to do to bring an orgasm on quickly and powerfully. He'd had to learn it, for the alternative was too harsh, too painful. He couldn't do it night after night. So he had taught himself. And when the men came, that was what they came for. They'd heard about him, about what he could do with his mouth, and they were willing to pay extra for it. As dirty as it made him feel, the money kept his stomach full and a roof over his head.
And so it continued, and he brought countless men to their peak skillfully and quickly, until the day he knocked on his landlord's door to give him the rent, only to find he'd skipped out on the tenants, and they were now officially squatters. Stunned, the first thing he did was quit his job. He'd managed to save a rather large sum of money, and with no rent to pay, he didn't need any extra income. He could stop.
But tonight, he found himself settled between the legs of another man, his lips wrapped around his length as his tongue played over the sensitive skin. Only this time, he was in no hurry. He didn't want this man to leave, wanted to draw out his pleasure. He felt fingers running through his short hair and looked up into those beautiful brown eyes, the ones he'd fallen in love with the moment he saw them. They looked down on him with such love and adoration, pleasure and desire so evident in their depths that he felt tears spring to his own.
Lowering his eyes once more, he focused on pleasuring him. His hands ran over the dark skin of his stomach and legs, and he heard him groan as he took him deep into his throat. His heart soared, happy for the first time to be bringing this kind of pleasure to someone. As his hips began to thrust up to meet his mouth, he knew he was close to his peak and smiled around him, drawing out his movements until he felt him tense, then release into his mouth with a long cry of his name.
He held him in his mouth as he came down from his climax, hands moving in comforting circles over his heated skin. In time, his breathing slowed, and he allowed his spent member to slip from his lips, moving up to lay beside him and allowing himself to be wrapped in his comforting arms. He felt warm lips pressed to his forehead, and sighed happily, snuggling closer to him.
"I love you, Angel," was whispered against his hair, those beautiful words that washed away the painful encounters of the past and replaced them with a love he never thought he'd find.
"I love you, too, Collins," he said softly, lifting his lips to meet his lover's in a tender kiss.