challenge#42: Author's Choice
Title: Hustler Justin VII
Author: Vamphile
Warnings: Violence, Angst,
(This is an H/C emotional!porn story in drabble form this set gets kinda graphic)
This is NOT a RAPE or DEATH!FIC.
Condom(s): 15 to Justin 4 to Brian


Hustler!Justin
Hustler!Justin II
Hustler!Justin III
Hustler!Justin IV
Hustler!Justin V
Hustler!Justin VI

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Hustler!Justin VII

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Michael is looking at me oddly. “Did something happen to you?”

“Huh?” I chalk my cue and feign ignorance.

“You go away on some super secret vacation, with no notice. You come back and work so much you never have time to see anyone and now that you are out with us you’re turning down every guy who looks at you.”

“They’re all trolls.” I wait, but Michael sometimes has a way of detecting bullshit.

“You got a boyfriend!”

He also has a way of missing the mark completely. I ignore the statement completely and let Michael take his shot.


~~~72~~~
He springs for a Motel room. Apparently my value has gone down recently. He’s not wrong. I probably look like shit. Sleeping on the streets can destroy almost anyone. At least I got a shower at Brian’s, and I’ll get one tonight too. If I can get this guy to spring for a pizza I might actually be able to concentrate on something other than survival. I can probably get him to do it but first, business. He hands me the cash. Half of what he used to pay, but at least it all goes to me. I strip naked.


~~~73~~~
Michael thinks he’s on to something. “You met someone. That’s why you went away. You were on a couple’s vacation. That’s why you’ve been MIA and were never at work when I called!”

He’s almost yelling and I’m about to brain him with a pool cue but Emmett and Ted appear and I’ve never actually been happy to see them before. Michael tells them his theory and they tell him he’s crazy. Michael sees their logic and drops it. We move on to other topics and when a really hot guy cruises me, I cruise back, to shut Michael up.


~~~74~~~
He crooks a finger and I move forward, hands behind my back, eyes down. I know this routine. I must have performed it hundreds of times. I drop to my knees and his hand clamps down on me, forcing my jaw open. He likes to feel me resist. I close my eyes and think about a hot shower and a warm duvet and strong hands caressing me softly. I focus on that instead of the pain as he positions my body and his belt comes down against my thighs. I don’t make a sound. It’ll be worse if I do.


~~~75~~~
I spend enough time letting the guy blow me at Woody’s to shut Michael up for the night. We move on to Babylon and I see a short blond twink dancing. I move forward but when he turns it’s not who I thought it was, and it saves me the trouble of having to bitch at him for spending his hard earned cash here. He should be… I shake my head and order a shot. He should be wherever he wants doing whatever he wants. It’s none of my business, and I’m certainly not concerned. I down the shot quickly.


~~~76~~~
He tosses the condom into the trash. His hairy body dripping sweat. He runs a hand through my hair and I don’t let him feel me flinch away. His breathing is labored and I hope he doesn’t have a fucking heart attack. I feign sleep. When I hear the door close behind him I relax a little. I’ve got the room for the night. He’s got to get back to his wife. I sit up and move carefully. No real damage. Good. I shower until there’s no hot water and then wedge a chair under the doorknob before falling asleep.


~~~77~~~
When Michael pours me into bed he’s still mumbling about something being wrong. I pick up a pillow to throw at him but it smells like Justin so I just roll over and bury my face in it instead. I mumble something to Michael about setting the alarm and the next thing I know the sun is bleeding through my eyelids and it’s almost noon. It’s after one by the time I feel human again. A hot shower and bad diner coffee have saved me once more. Debbie insists on feeding me. I grimace at her, but eat the eggs.


~~~78~~~
I wake up to a loud banging. I throw my clothes on quickly, grabbing my hoody, checking the pocket, and leaving before the manager charges me for another day. I must have been really tired to have missed checkout.

I head towards a building that had been advertising an apartment for rent. It’s over an old comic book store. I can’t find any other entrance so I go into the store and ask for the manager. I barely get the words out of my mouth when I realize Brian is standing at the counter. He pretends to ignore me completely.


~~~79~~~
I ignore him completely. So he’s here and looking for an apartment, so what? Michael tells him where to find the building manager and he leaves quickly. I flip through the pages of the newest Captain Astro and eventually tell Mikey that he’s pathetic and leave. If I have to walk in the same direction as Justin, that’s just a coincidence. I needed to check out the stores behind here anyway. He’s upset and not looking where he’s going. I could move to avoid him but then he might walk into a bus. I let him walk into me instead.


~~~80~~~
Fuck. The last motherfucker I needed to run into. I wince and try to keep walking. He stops me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. He does that staring thing letting me know that he’s not going to be satisfied with anything less than full disclosure. How does he do that with a single look? I hand him back the cash he gave me last night. “It’s pointless. Without a job, or a reference, no one will even consider renting me a decent place so just keep your fucking money!” He looks as surprised by my outburst as I am.


~~~81~~~
I don’t know what to say. I put the money back in his palm, curling his fingers around it. “This is not a decent place.” He just bows his head and I don’t know what the fuck to do. “c’mon.”

“Where?”

“We’ll find you someplace.”

“There’s no point.”

“Justin. I already paid you, now let me help you use the fucking money.”

“But, don’t you have to be at work or something.”

I shake my head. “Let me worry about my schedule”

He shrugs. I put a hand on the small of his back and lead him to the ‘vette.



~~~82~~~
I move slowly, I still hurt. When we get back to the loft he points to a chair at the dining room table and sits down at the computer. I sit at the table too fucking tired and sore to care why. He looks over at me and sighs. “Bring the chair here.” I blush and move it. It’s heavy and I’m really not up to heavy lifting. I’m hoping he doesn’t notice.

He starts asking me questions about where I want to live, and how much I can afford. I tell him and he raises an eyebrow. I shrug


~~~83~~~
Justin’s budget only makes sense if he’s got all night gigs five or six nights a week. He doesn’t seem to think it’s a problem so I factor that in. I’m asking him about how many bedrooms he needs when he shrugs off his black hoody. The graying white t-shirt underneath doesn’t hide the blood the way black does. I reach a hand out, pushing him forward a little. A mark blooms larger. He’s bleeding and sitting here not bothering to tell me. He pulls away a little as I push at his shirt. It’s sticking to the dried blood.


~~~84~~~
Brian looks a little green. I refuse to wince but when he pulls the shirt away from my back it hurts. He stands up and so do I. I’m leaving. I won’t make him ask me to. But he just commands me to stay. I try to say something but he shakes his head and cuts the shirt away from my skin. Soaking it with a warm towel before peeling it off of me. He hisses when it’s gone. I shake my head. I know it looks worse than it is. He simply ignores me when I tell him that.


~~~85~~~
Not as bad as it looks? He’s fucking kidding me right? His back is crisscrossed with red marks. Most of them just welts, a few still bleeding. They disappear below the waistband of his jeans. I want to ask what happened but the answer is staring me in the face. He took one of those high paying jobs, the kind that… I think I’m going to vomit. I clench my teeth against it and sit him on the kitchen stool. “Don’t move.” He nods. I wonder if I even have any disinfectant. I already know I have plenty of bandages.


~~~86~~~
Shit. I consider leaving but with nowhere to go there’s really no point. I just fold my arms on the kitchen counter and lay my head down. I close my eyes. I should probably be more worried about what happens next but I’m just too tired. It hurts to move and by the time I think about stealing one of his shirts he’s back, telling me that this might hurt. It doesn’t. He dabs at my back and then tells me to stand up. I do and I think about stopping him but end up letting him remove my jeans.


~~~87~~~
I expect a fight at some point but I don’t get one. He steps out of his jeans and I’m swallowing the bile that keeps rising. The marks are more pronounced on his ass and his thighs. I move to stand in front of him and don’t know why I expected anything other than more of the same. He’s covered from knees to neck with nasty welts. His thighs are bruised, I don’t know how he was sitting or walking in the rough denim. Rough dirty denim. I give up on the antiseptic and move us both the shower.


~~~88~~~
It hurts when we walk but when the water starts it’s like being beaten all over again, except this time I had no time to prepare. He stands in front of the shower spray and slowly soaps my body. I want to protest. I’m a grown man and I knew what I was getting into when I got in the car. I let it go a little further than usual, but I was so focused on getting into my own place it seemed worth it. Now hope of a place is gone, as is the ability to ignore the pain.


~~~89~~~
I stop at a particularly nasty bite mark on his torso, I’m checking for broken skin there. Christ, this is the rent boy who insisted on a condom two days ago… now he’s letting someone do this. And for a moment I wonder if he did let them, or if it was something else, but his arms are smooth and unblemished. So are his legs below the knees. No one held him down and the fact that he submitted to this somehow makes it worse. I look up and expect him to be crying, he isn’t. His eyes are dead.


~~~90~~~
Eventually I find that place, the one where I can’t feel anything. I hide there while his hands are on me. I’m no longer completely aware of what they’re doing, but I can’t feel how much it hurts either. The next thing I’m really aware of is that he’s standing in front of me, we’re out of the shower and he’s calling my name. I blink. “Hmmm?”

“What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry. Did you ask me a question?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans in closely. “What happened?”

I shake my head. Can he really not know?

Cont...