PRAWNZ!

Dec. 7th, 2009 07:13 am
velindah: (Default)
[personal profile] velindah
I couldn't sleep, so I decided to write porn. Porn relative to a story though, I promise! Nyst used to whore himself out to pay for himself and his sister after their parents died, though he never told her that. Anyways, this is just one of those many situations...more pleasant than most of them.

Anyways, NSFW under the cut. M/M action, prostitution style.

It is so bittersweet, to see her face when I bring home the money. To know that she won't go hungry tonight, or that she could get clothing that fit her tomorrow, or even that we could sleep on a comfortable, warm bed. That is priceless, and that will always make me happy and allow me to believe that in the end it is all worthwhile.

It isn't.

I can't say he is a completely unattractive man, though most elves tend to be a little somewhat attractive if nothing else. His jaw is sharp and angular, a faint trace of stubble on it. Long silver hair, down a little past his shoulders and a swimmer's body. I can handle this much, at least if I'm going to be whoring my body it is best left to someone who is well kept, and rich. As of now, I'm a rather thin man...well not man, teenage boy more like it. Clearly under fed, pale, with long black hair tied neatly at the bottom.

"Boy," He turns and looks down at me, I'm on my knees next to the chair he is sitting in wearing nothing at all.

"Yes...sir?" I correct myself quickly, not calling him sir ends up in rather painful bruises as I've learned from the past. I look directly at him, not moving an inch unless I'm told to.

"I don't think I'm in the mood for....your mouth tonight," He says in an almost lazy tone, putting down his cigarette and looking straight back at me. I can feel my stomach drop, that doesn't mean I'm here for a nice chat...quite the contrary, he wants something else.

"Ah.....alright..." I say quietly, clearing my throat a little bit and standing. "How would you like me then?....Sir."

He eyes me up and down, clearly unimpressed by my lack of arousal but hell...what is so arousing about this situation? I don't want to be here anyways. With the motion of his hand, I know to turn around and lean against the wall. My chest and stomach are pressed against it and I take a deep breath. Thankfully, he is kind enough to use lube....I use the term kind loosely.

Without being able to think anymore, he grabs me by the hair and forces my head back, his lips are pressed against my own and his covered cock is pressed against my ass. I try not to make it seem so forced, kissing him back without complaint and trying to fantasize enough to stroke myself to life. Half hard is good enough, I guess.

He sets his half glass of wine on the mantle, undoing the button and then the zipper of his pants. It is always so peculiar, but he never gets undressed more than this. Perhaps he has some odd scars he wants to hide, but maybe I don't even want to know.

I can hear the sound of the open bottle, can feel the oil slide down my bare skin and onto his--might I add-- rather unimpressive manhood. All I can do is close my eyes as he lets go of my hair and takes hold of my wrists instead, holding them above my head with one hand, spreading me with the other. Before I could even think to complain he thrust into me.

I have to pretend to enjoy it, I have to moan and say how good he is when truthfully it is always fairly tedious and boring. His movements are shallow, stiff. Maybe it is because he knows his wife could come home at any minute, see him fucking some under aged boy in their living room. Sometimes I almost wish that would happen, but business is business.

"Mm yeah....." I moan out, stroking my own cock more for appearance than anything. After all, I don't care for this. If I am not stuck giving a blow job, I want a real fuck. Not some closeted 'straight' man trying to get his rocks off when his wife isn't cutting it.

Never lasts long, either, and it is always so predictable. I hear his breath hitch a little, and he bites the tip of my ear. His movements become sloppy, more frantic and he gives these odd little whimpering noises that annoy the hell out of me.

In mid thought, he pulls out of me and turns me around, shoving me to the floor on my knees in front of him. Ah....this again. I hear this is what they do to hot little twinks, give us 'facials' to make themselves feel powerful. I find it humorous, really, watching him jerk off with one hand and putting the other on the top of my head to keep me down.

"Oh yeah....right on my face..." I look up at him innocently, it always works, but really I'm just trying to get it over with. With a shallow, ragged breath--at which point I shut my eyes--I hear him groan and I feel the warmth of his cum slide down my forehead, down along my cheek bone and drip down to my shoulder. Disgusting.

I hide my distaste, grabbing a kerchief from the floor and delicately wiping his seed from my face and body. I stand up, though I'm quite a bit shorter than he is and I look up at him.

"So, money?" I hold out my hand, If you aren't firm sometimes they'll make you leave without payment...not by my watch.

He begrudgingly hands over the money, which is more than enough for a few days at least. Thank the light, I can actually rest. And after gathering my clothes and pulling them on hastily, I leave his home and head back to the inn my sister and I have been renting.

One day, I'll be through with this shit.

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