Yeah. This is in edited. I'm sorry.
Weslie rubbed his palms against his thighs, shivering as he waited outside the building. It had been about twenty minutes since he knocked on the door only to have it slammed in his face with the order to wait.
His breath fogged when it hit the air. He licked his lips, trying to keep them from getting chapped. So far it wasn't working so well, as they dried again almost immediately. Wes's body was wracked with another shiver when the door opened.
"You can come in now!" The boy turned and left the doorway, but the door was kept open. Wes slowly raised himself from the crouch he has been in, grimacing at the twinge of protest his knees gave off. He was so beyond tired of leather pants.
He followed the boy into the small place, shutting the door behind him.
Connor, the name his boss had supplied, was sitting on the couch, staring. Just staring. And while Wes found it a bit unnerveing, it was nothing he was surprised by. One thing he was surprised by, however, was how absolutely strange Connor looked.
He looked odd with the amount of visible metal alone. That, paired with the amount of white that was naturally him, and the tattoos that clashed in a way that almost glowed, made the boy look strangely ethereal in the sickest way possible. The obvious starvation and the dim light of the room only worsened the effect. There was no way to properly describe his appearance, because he was not beautiful. He was hideous. He was sickly, and he was broken. But he was alluring in the most grotesque way. This boy could charm anyone into the bedroom without even speaking.
And he probably needed therapy. He probably needed a lot of things. A lot of Therapy being one. But saving lives was not Wes's job. So he blinked his way out of the trance Connor had stunned him into and strode forward. He climbed into Connor's lap, straddling his hips.
Wes grabbed Connor's skinny wrists, wrenching them above his head.
"Boss said you like pain." Wes muttered, easily trapping Connor's wrists with one hand and using the other to shove up Connor's shirt and rake his nails up his stomach. The slight intake of breath was enough of a sign for Wes to know that it would take a lot more than a little sting to please Connor.
He halfheartedly pulled at his hands, looking severely irritated when Wes let them go. Weslie pulled away completely, standing up.
"Where are you going?" Conner demanded, still irritated and now catty as well.
"Well you don't expect me to fuck you on the couch, do you? Take me to a fucking bed, you bitch." the words left a bad taste in Wes's mouth. Connor went meek, though, muttering "this way" and walking towards an open door. Weslie could see a ratty bed from where he stood. "Be naked by the time I get in there." Wes called after him.
He sighed quietly, heading towards the doorway that Wes could see held a fridge, figuring that meant kitchen, he entered. Even with the dim light straining his eyes, It didn't take long before Weslie found what he was looking for. He pulled the pocket knife out of the the drawer of miscellaneous things and tested the sharpness. It easily sliced through the pad of his thumb.
When Wes entered the room, Connor was naked and glaring.
"Took you lo-"
"Shut up." Weslie cut him off, walking up to Connor. "Turn around and crawl to the head of the bed, make a show of it precious, I'd hate to get bored." Weslie raised an eyebrow when he didn't move immediately.
When Connor did move, it was slow, with a slight sway of the hips to keep attention on his ass. Weslie bent, retrieving the leggings Connor had discarded onto the floor. He rounded the bed, climbing on beside Connor's head, which he shoved into the pillows after getting a grip on his hair. There was a muffled noise in surprise, after which Connor turned his head looking bored as he watched Wes.
Wes stared back a moment, but broke it to tie Connor's wrists together with the pants he's picked up. Another glance at Connor, who was getting irritated due to the flaccid penis he still had, and Wes got up. He stood, still in Connor's rather limited field of vision, and tossed two things down in front of Connor, both taken from his pants pocket, a condom and the pocked knife he'd taken from the kitchen.
Connor grimaced at the things in front of his.
"No on the condom, or did I cast you wrong on the blood?" Wes asked, slipping out of the shirt he'd worn. He folded it sloppily, placing in on a side table.
"Condoms are stupid."
Wes silently scooped it up, shoving it back into his pocket before peeling his leather from his skin. When he was naked, he looked over Connor. Ass in the air like that he looked harmless. He looked petulant and inpatient, but Wes avoided thinking of him as childlike. Any child that finds himself in position Connor is now would likely become a very strange individual.
"Look," Connor snapped, "Are you
"Shut. Up." Wes cut him off again, this time with actual force. Whiney bed partners was not something he enjoyed. It was why he hated drunks.
Weslie climbed onto the bed, situating himself behind Connor. "Now listen. This is how this is going to go. You are not going to talk. Anymore. Because every time you open your mouth, all you do is bitch." Wes said, jacking himself into erect hardness.
"I wouldn't bitch if you'd do your fucking-AHH!"
Weslie had reached forward with the hand not around his cock and grabbed the pocket knife and made a shallow incision down the length of Connor's penis.
He arched his back, fingers clenching white. Blood dripped down the length of his growing erection, staining the already questionably marked sheets below him.
Weslie took a deep quiet breath, listening to Connor moan and pant while he lined his penis up. He shifted, and nudged Connor's knees wider apart. Weslie grit is teeth as he began to force his way into Connor.
He let out horse near-screams and moans that begged for more. His hole constricted, trying to expel the intrusion, but Wes continued until he was down to the hilt. Then he pulled most of the way out. And did it again. By the third time, Wes's cock was coming out with a thin sheen of blood that made him gag.
He looked away, arming himself with the pocket knife again. This time an equally shallow cut from mid rib cage to the top of his hip.
Connor let out a strangled plea for more, which opened the gate of his voice. Connor shot from yelling demands to whispered begging over the corse of a sentence. He rocked back to meet Weslie, hands clenching and unclenching from where they lay tied on his back, against the chain connecting his piercings. He gasped for air while the pillow tried to fill his mouth. He was loud and he gave Weslie a headache.
Wes watched the chain shift is the movement. He Slipped his hand under Connor tied ones and gave it an experimental tug as he pumped in and out of the noisy creature. It gave him an idea. He looked away and jerked hard towards himself. The sudden give and Connor's pained yell made Wes feel vaguely nauseous, but he looked at what he'd done anyway. The chain was connected only partially by one last piercing. The rest bled heavily, some missing chunks of skin.
He closed his eyes, focusing on not loosing his erection, while he ripped the last free. Connor had gone back to moaning and calling for more.
The sounds of it made Weslie mad. He wanted to know how someone could have such little respect for their body. How they could actually beg to be forced to bleed. He wanted the noise to stop. So he wrapped the chain around Connor's throat and pulled, choking off all noises louder that a whisper, watching his eyes for signs of passing out.
He tightened his grip on the blade he'd nearly forgotten and shoved it straight into the meat of his leg.
Connor came hard, choking on a scream. The end of it shot into sound as Wes released the chain. He pulled out of the collapsing boy, losing his erection fast at the sight of the blood seeping from his thigh.
Weslie slipped off the bed, wiping the blood off his cock with the edge of the sheet. He made his way to the head of the bed where his clothes had been set aside. Slipping them on, he glanced at Connor, who was still tied and panting streaks of blood in various stages of congealment. Weslie untied him and immediately, he rolled over and stretches out. As Wes was heading to the bedroom door, his foot hit something. It was a pack of cigarettes, clove, that was, upon further inspection, half full. He tossed the pack over to Connor, who was already lighting up when Wes got to the door.
Yes. Now go read Caroliiine 's work. All of it is beautiful and it needs love.
Connor is hers. Weslie is mine. They have issues. That is okay.