To Fall in Love

Chapter: 1/?
Warning: yaoi, lemon, and prostitution. Will add more when the time comes.
Disclaimer: Yu-gi-oh doesn't belong to me.

The ceiling fan gave creaking sounds as it revolved, shaking at every count as if at any moment, it would collapse and burry the two entwined bodies under a heap of rusty metal. In this shabby hotel room, the air conditioner had long been out of order but there was no sign of maintain even though winter was pulling close.

Laying flat on his back, eyes focusing above, Seto panted a little, not from the physical effort but more from the weight of the body on top of him, heavy enough to crush his scrawny chest far enough to restrain breathing and make his head a little airy. The big man was panting too, no, more than grunting and mumbling derogatory names as his hips thrust into him, pounding him further into the mattress. Fingers gripping the stained sheet, crumbling and twisting it, he attempted to breathe and distract himself from the pain, heedless to the demand of him to spread his legs a little wider and lift his ass for easier access. The man apparently took the matter into his own hand for a moment latter, there were hands on his thighs grasping hard enough to the point of pain and almost immediately the thick cock was shoved deeper into him. He bit the back of his hand to stifle down a pained cry, swallowed down a bit and squeezed his muscles, earning a groan from the man who quickly thrust inside him several more times before spilling into him. He stayed still, glad that it was over at last.

It didn't take long for the man to recover from whatever place he'd dropped in, earned from his abused channel. He man gave his cock a squeeze and growled.

"Slut. You didn't even cum."

"Does it matter to you? You got what you wanted," Seto said and swatted the hand away. "That's fifty bucks," he added and pulled on his pants, failing to hide the disgust from his voice and the bitterness that was threatening to choke him. He didn't look until the man stopped cursing and left, throwing back a few wrinkled bills on the stained bed.

Smoothing the bills, he slipped them into his pocket and walked outside. Whether he wanted or not, he needed money to live on.

That was the first man today, another day of trading his pride and dignity for filthy money. But then, perhaps, he no longer had pride and dignity, lost them years ago with his family -- just a brother but a family nonetheless. At this point in his life, it wouldn't do him good to think too much about them or anything else save for his existence. He existed because if he did not, there would be no one to remember the pain and sorrow and sleepless nights when he cowered in a corner of his spacious bedroom because it hurt to do as a simple thing as standing straight and telling the kids his age that he was fine. All he could do was crumble down and let grief take over him as the world rotated, spiraled and sucked into the hollow inside him where once his heart and soul had stayed.

He no longer cared of anything, certainly not the bleary eyes that leered at his nudeness nor the callus hands that touched him at places which he had never thought about before. They were just mere eyes and hands with no attachment like those from a horror movie, in this case with him starring. He cringed from them out of instinct but part of him said that he would be nothing without them for they took out what few feelings were left in the empty shell called his body -- pain, humiliation, and embarrassment, the latter surprisingly odd for he wasn't even aware that he was capable to feel such emotion. He thrived on them at night even if in the morning, he would spend hours in the hot shower and later on, curl up in his tiny bed and cry his eyes out.

Life around him went on even if his had stopped. Living didn't make much sense anymore and neither did death -- he had long passed the age when suicide seemed like a fancy thought and so he lived on, floating around this prostitution hut like a pretty little boy seducing an older man to get money for treats and pretty clothes.

Hm, how funny that people thought he was much younger than his age. Perhaps, starvation helped, he thought. He didn't really starve himself, although more often than not, he found himself having eaten nothing for days. He wasn't hungry was all.

Seto sighed and sat down on a chair near the bar's corner, gladly accepting a glass of water. There were a lot of people today since it was Friday. It also meant he could have at least five more clients before morning seeped its light through the window and dismissed the dim lights which were being blasted away by the loud music.

Before he finished his glass, a pair of shiny shoes walked toward his place and stopped in front of him.

"Fifty bucks for twenty minutes," he said automatically and looked up, expecting to see a desperate middle-aged man who had to resort to his service to satisfy his sexual desires. Instead, he was looking at a handsome man who could have come from a fashion show. The man was around his age, his face framed by tendrils of russet hair which gave it a gentle touch and softened the starling brightness of his blue eyes which, at this moment, was seething with restrained emotions in the bottoms.

Definitely out of place, Seto thought as his client was shifting a bit, looking particularly uncomfortable presumably at the idea of buying a whore like him. Just as he was about to dismiss the case, the man introduced himself.

"Hi, my name is Seth. How much do I have to pay for... the whole day?"