Archive of Our Own ^beta

“On your knees.”

It was a common introduction, his job was his job. Coming to the US he believed he would be able to work in what he loved, botany.  He was a refugee of sorts, his reason for coming over was private. For himself and no one else but him to know. He misses his family, but he knows they do not miss him. 

“Hey, pretty boy, how much for him?” 

How did he end up here? Selling his body for money to strange men with fetishes, prostitution was never his style but. He needed cash and he needed  a roof over his head. The madam could do it for him. A male like him costs a pretty penny around these parts. Not nearly as many here as in his homeland. Not treated the same way either. At his home he would be treated as a woman, depsite his body, despite anything he would be treated as nothing but trash. 

At least the prostitution here was more so closeted gay men wanting to fuck something that looked man enough but had all the familar parts.

“Bua.” His head raises, long white hair delicately falls into place.. “Pretty boy, we have someone who wants you. I told them my baby wouldn’t be taken from me but.” She chuckles, her long nails pushing the strands behind his ear. “You’re so beautiful. It’s unfortunate you have to leave tonight.” The older woman sighs, her red hair was perfect, pristine. So were her clothes. A woman who wasn’t afraid to deal with any rough or rude customers. She let him tend to the gardens, choose his best interests but would sink her claws into him at any given moment just to show she was in charge. But he made her money, a clean well mannered male. He never talked back, never was late, and always let the men do what they wanted.

“Buaaa.” She draws out the A, he always liked the nickname. It meant Lotus in his native tongue, his family called him it mostly but, Moria was family now. “You know you're my favorite Little one, and my most beautiful boy.” He nods, looking up at the woman. 

“This man is older, a vet. looking for a little relief. He will be rough with you. He won’t be afraid to pull your hair, to hurt you my little one.” She pulls his head to her chest, he closes his eyes. Enjoying the feeling of her nails petting into his scalp. “I have something special for you, your mommy loves you and she knows you don’t like hurting. You are just a babe after all.” The woman digs into her front pocket, pulling out a baggie, filled with. Something for the pain. He’s never done that before. Sure he’s heard of it and all but never…

Moira sighs, kissing him on the top of his head. “Now, Niran, go make mommy proud.” 

—

He dated people, went out with older men and was their side piece. A handsome young man, tall and beautiful with flowing white hair that stayed tucked behind his ear, tied up in the back. He had muscles but seemed petite in clothes. He had great manners and was fluent enough in English that if not for his rather heavy accent, he could pass as an american. People liked that he was from Thailand, authentic and ethnic. They ate up the fact that his skin was so tan and his hair was so white. They run their hand through it,  the other cups his ass all while telling him he’s so cute. Though most nights ended at a motel, for a hefty fee. 

“Fuck you’re so fucking sexy right now Dammit. Such a Fucking tight cunt.”

Stop talking to me, he thinks but never says. Instead he keeps up the innocent doe act, laying in a pool of his own long hair, acting as if this were his first time and not his twentieth. Shuddering under touches, biting his lip and closing his eyes, making sure the noises he makes are soft, snd gentle. He holds himself to a standard as the old man groggily thrusts into him holding his shoulders. Pushing  his head down into the scratchy pillows. Grunting with each push, Niran makes sure to bite down on his hand as the man dives inside of him deeper, his cock pushing against his bruised cervix.  He was meant to like this kind of thing. Meant for sex and breeding. And he did like sex, hell he loved his body and the things it could do he just. Didn’t fucking know this man. This was his job, and nobody really likes their job.

He was born with, well, female genitalia. It wasn’t his fault, his body just developed strangley in the womb, being intersex wasn’t something he was proud of. He was raised as a boy, was a male through and through despite some soft femme features. And the gaping slit between his legs. He didn’t mind it. The first time he had sex wasn’t pleasant but now it was… okay. Ish.

The man growls, a hand grabs his nape of his neck. Tossing him off the side of the bed. “You fucking slant eyed fucker. I killed fucking tramps like you back in Nam.” Fuck what the fuck. Red and runny blood begins to drip from his nose, His head rings as he sits up, fuck, he must’ve hit it. He meets the angry hands again, this time wrapping around his throat. . “You don’t like my dick?” Niran’s manicured nails dig into the flesh of the strangers hands, trying to pull them off. 

“Please don’t.” He squeaks as he is forced up against the wall, his lower lip trembling. “I like it.”

“SAY YOU LOVE IT CHINK!” 

“I love it.” Tears drool down his cheeks as he  speaks, gasping for air as the hands finally leave his throat, he can breathe but he can’t take a breath. He can’t fucking focus. The man shoves his head against the wall again. He doesn’t know if he was dying. A warm wet trickle drips down between his legs as the man lines himself up again.. He wasn’t fucking chinese, or vietnamese either for that matter. He trembles, his eyes clenched shut as he holds back sobs as the man groans, pulling. Pushing away the older male, a hand covers his mouth as the man forces a few more thrusts. Then. No no no no no.

Clients weren’t supposed to do that without a…not inside of him. It was against the rules and the rules were there for a reason. With a hand over his mouth his cries of pain were muzzled. 

“Did you cum?” The man asks, panting. Niran does not respond, trying to hold back tears. no he didn’t. The man had a big dick and that was all, shitty pace. Shitty attitude. Shitty everything. The old man panting next to him as he sits on the carpeted motel floor, trying to ignore the tears that were dripping down his cheek. 

The man kisses him on the head, and leaves. The neon glow of the motel sign flickers and buzzes. The tears just kept coming. Every second of his life was regrettable he should’ve never left. Married that old man his parents sold him off to.  He would’ve been better off in Thailand, at least he would’ve had his family. Reaching around for his phone, his hand strays over the contact, should he call his mother? She never cared much for him. Neither did his father. An eldest son that ran away to the United States and became a prostitute? Fucking hell. He was such a disappointment.  He closes his eyes, allowing himself to cry. 

—-

“What happened?” Moira sounded angry, and she was. Livid actually, angrily strumming her fingers against her desk as Niran sits across from her. 

“ I told him not to… he choked me and called me. Slurs and names and. I couldn’t fight him. He was too big.” He squeaks his words. 

“Are those muscles just cosmetic?”

“I’m just…. I don’t have that kind of strength.” 

“Fuck.” She slams her hands against her desk, causing the young man to jump. “It’s not your fault. Are you okay?” 

He shakes his head, his hands still trembling from last night. The drugs he took made him feel a bit better, but nothing is permanent.

“I’ll take care of it. Meanwhile, you need to take a test. You can’t get pregnant, right?”

“No I can’t.”

“Good. I’ll deal with him.”

—-

Weeks pass before his next customer. The asshole had given him Chlamydia. How disgusting. He felt so disappointed  in himself, in his body. The bruises around his neck took a while to fade, once fully cured of his venereal disease, he was back on the town.

A handsome man, another older one. Brown hair, sharp eyes, rather… handsome. Hands rub along his thighs when they first meet. A hand reached out, his name was just like the others. Something stupid he would never remember. And like clockwork with a smile he would respond. “Hello! I’m.. Lilac.” A hand outstretched, he never gave out his real name, using a fake one or a codeword seemed to work much better. The man orders a drink, smiling as he talks,  a hand reaching towards his inner thigh. He sucks in a breath, his cheeks turning a soft rosey color as the man’s nose pressed against his neck. So indecent. 

He laughs it off, nudging himself away as the man shakes his whiskey, the cubed ice swishing. Niran drinks a spitzer, mixed berry with edible flowers inside, enjoying the taste he doesn’t mind that the man keeps ordering him drinks. He talks to him throughout the night, gentle and sweet. 

“So uh. You from Thailand?”

Niran nods, leaning onto the man, the drinks had settled in his head. Making his body feel heavy. 

“Ah! You knew how could you tell?”

“That crazy accent, plus I uh, your skin is so. Golden. And your hair, its so white, do you dye it?.” God, these men and their fetishes for the unknown. He was just a piece of cake that they so desperately wanted to consume. 

“Thank you. No i.. I don’t dye my hair. It’s natural.” Goddamn how strong was that drink? His vision is swimming. 

He groans, wiping at his exhausted eyes. 

“Woah there flower, no need to exert yourself, you okay there buddy? You kinda passed out at the bar after that last drink, you think you’re good?.” The man says softly, a young man, with a southern accent. A twang that meant he was from some place where cowboys were still a thing. He didn’t think America was still like this. 

“Did we have sex?” He questions softly, his eyes big. 

“No buddy, I’m a gentlemen, and Gentlemen don’t rape drunk prostitutes.” 

“Don’t call me that.” He says softly, pulling his hair back,the tie around his wrist finally coming into hand as he pulls his long hair through it, into a bun.

“Thank you. For not. Assaulting me. I feel better.” He murmurs, like he wasn’t still slurring his words, having trouble with pronunciation. English wasn’t his first language, it was hard to keep things straight.  After only ten minutes the man takes advantage of his hair being up. Pushing him down onto his cock, not much foreplay he supposes.

“Hey! “he whines, quickly shut up by the man thrusts his cock into his opened mouth. The man seemed to be lying about being a gentleman.  How Boring. The man grabs a fist full of his hair, keeping the younger males head in place as he violently thrusts inside, cock hitting  the back of his throat causing him to cough. Mucus building up in his throat as his stomach churns. A few grunts and then. He twitches, groans, pulling his cock out and wanking it until he releases ribbons of cum that spurt onto Niran’s face. He whines low, panting, hoping none of it gets in his mouth. Except.

“Augh! No! Heyyyy my mom bought me this!” He whines again as the mans cock spurts onto his silk shirt. Bastard.. The man scoffs, digging into his wallet, tossing bills onto him. Taking a drag of his now lit cigarette, he grumbles. “Go buy yourself some new clothes.”

Then he was gone.

The door slammed behind him. 

Niran doesn’t feel well, his stomach turning as he slowly drags himself to his feet, the cash falling to the floor as he stumbles drunkenly towards the toilet, tossing up the contents of the night. Wiping the vomit off the side of his mouth, resting his head on the cool porcelain toilet seat.

“Yet.” Fuck.

Waking up with a start, he realizes it was time for him to get the fuck out of the pay per hour motel. Shit. He was going to be in so much trouble for falling asleep on the job. No, not on the job. He finished his job and then fell asleep.

Slowly standing he cleans the dried come off his face before fixing up the room, finding himself having to wear the robe.  He gave a fake name, the man had booked the room, and because he wasn't kicked out he doubts that he checked out properly. How kind.

He grabs the cash the man had given him. Staring at the bills. On blink, twice.

He doesn’t understand.

$1,000  to buy new clothes??? How expensive did he think the 350 Baht shirts were back at home? Cheap but good, he couldn’t  believe the man had left him that money. Rented him the room for the night and left after one quick fuck. No not even a fuck. A sloppy drunk blowjob.

He wasn’t going to fight it. Pocketing the money.

—-

Today was a free day, out of the house, out of work, a few more dates here and there but not a lot of motel actions. Mostly  just being arm candy for men (and women, but mostly men.) 

Sitting in a cafe, slowly stirring the tea, he wonders what plants were made in the process, what they did to tan it, how they got the land to do so, and what things they did to harvest and grow the sugarcane. He couldn’t help but be interested. He types on his small laptop, he wasn’t paid terribly. He was high end, just free board and being pampered by strange men was a great outcome. Not to mention most places wouldn’t hire him due to his immigration status. People around these parts weren’t too accepting of someone like himself.

A whisper was heard amongst the crowd, roaring in his ears, it wasn’t in english, but he wasn’t one to judge, just eavesdropping.

“I don’t think he even speaks english much less understands it.” The man says, nervously in the background. It piqued his interest.

“Just ask him out. If he doesn’t understand you then hell, he won’t say no. C’mon Jean! You know you want to.”

The man groans. “Fine fine fine.”

“Hello. I, ugh, i am sorry to bother you I just.” A hand comes up, a flirtatious smile and god. Oh god he was weak in the knees. The man was so handsome, hair and beard trimmed, pristine. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, obviously put together at the last minute, but he was handsome nonetheless. 

“Hello.” Niran responds back, a smirk raised on his lips as the man seems taken aback by his voice. Shit. Did he mess things up? 

“Hi, I was wondering uh, would you want to maybe. Exchange numbers you’re very. Cute?”

He raises a brow, the man was a mess, bad at asking out but. He seemed gentle, kind. Better than all the other men he’s been with as of late. He would just break the man’s heart. 

“My name’s Jean-Baptiste, and yours?”

“I’m Niran.” 

He offers his hand, the man shakes it. Smiling. 

“It’s nice to meet you, let me buy you a drink eh? You are old enough to drink right?” 

“Yeah I am, here.” He pulls out his own cell phone, handing it to the stranger. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry my friends were being assholes.” The man says, but Niran didn’t care. They weren’t all that wrong. Niran was trying to fit in but was desperately standing out.

“There! Now, just text me when I can pick you up tonight , yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—-

The bar was loud, too busy and too much. Not like the places he usually was at. Everything was too much.He sits, his shirt half buttoned, his pants tight and his hair flowing. 

After three shots they were in the restroom. Baptise’s knee rubs against his clothed crotch. Niran moans, soft and unsure, gasping out as The man pushes his knee further, rubbing into his clit.  His eyes closing, his mouth opened, hot air filling the muggy room. Baptise smirks, watching as Niran falls apart from simple touches. Easily pushing against a sweet spot. Sweet spots Niran didn’t know he even had, unable to breath as the man pushes his hand against his- “Yet!” He shouts, his eyes growing  wide , his cheeks burning brightly as his orgasm shakes his legs. Still in his pants, the wetness soaks through the ripped black jeans. He pants his chest heaving as the man shuffles off his pants, trying to unbutton  Niran’s own. 

He didn’t feel too well.

“stop… Stop…I SAID STOP IT!!” they start quiet and grow with each passing second. Telling Baptise to let him go as if the man wasn’t trying to rut his cock inside of him.  “Let go of me you bastard.” He speaks in thai, crossfaded and over the bathroom he was wall to wall within. His hand connects with the man’s face. Then the man stops suddenly, cursing. He drops Niran down. The younger man was crying, drunk. High. All of the above? Baptise didn’t even notice how fucked up he was.

“I’m sorry.” The man says soft, running a hand through his hair before holding it out for Niran to take. “I got carried away.”  The young man doesn’t, instead hitting it away. Grunting in Thai about how all men are the same, but to Baptiste It just sounds like gibberish. He couldn't understand what the guy was saying. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. The white haired man pulls himself up off the bathroom floor, glaring at him. Stumbling out of the stall, he looked like he was going to collapse. 

“Hey hey.” Baptise grabs the man before he falls. Niran lets out a breathy whine. 

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, let me take you home you lightweight. What drugs did you take?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, leaning against Baptiste, closing his eyes.

He wakes up with a start, in a nice bed, white sheets, king sized. The room had dark curtains keeping the sunlight from entering. Fuck, did he fuck that beautiful man? He didn’t remember what happened after the bathroom, he doesn’t know how he ended up here. Shit, he had to stop drinking on dates or he was going to end up a dead hooker in an alleyway.

“Good Morning sunshine! Had a nice rest?” The man asks, his heavy accent was so. Unique, but Niran had no place to talk. He sits up, still dressed in the clothes he wore the night before.

“Hungry?” Baptise was holding a plate, it seemed to be breakfast. For someone like him? After what he pulled in that bar?

“I'm so sorry for um. Smacking you last night i… i dunno what came over me. And uh. Cursing you out in Thai…”

“Well… apology accepted. I should’ve noticed you were wasted, I also didn't know you were cursing me out.” Niran’s cheeks flush. Looking away.

“But it’s okay hey, you said no, I wanted to respect that. Tried to get you home but you wouldn’t speak a lick of English, so I brought you to my house. Put you right  to bed and now here we are.”

“Oh um. Thank you so much for letting me stay there.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The man sits down, handing him the plate of fruits. Niran picks at it, not wanting to seem ungrateful.  Most of the things he wasn’t fond of. These weird american berries always seemed to make him shudder. He misses fruit from home. 

“You’re very handsome. Even when you don’t like my food I’ve given you.”  

“Sorry.” He apologizes softly, a tad bit embarrassed by Baptiste calling him out.

 “Don’t apologize! Let yourself be who you are! You don’t like American fruit eh?”

“No not. Not really, it's kinda gross.”

Baptiste chuckles, a hand resting on his shoulder. Niran can feel his stomach bubble with butterflies.

“I understand completely, do not worry, my family is from Haiti. I was born here but only to have the fact that i am american on my birth certificate. Other than that I was raised there until I was 14, then I was taken back to America when my mother remarried. Visited every summer.”

Niran nods, the butterflies in his stomach seem to have gotten stronger at this information. So. Open about his life. Niran almost wants to scream. He didn’t deserve something so good, someone so good.

“I hate american fruit too but my cousin loves it so I have too much of it.” He smiles big, it’s infectious and so perfect. 

As Baptise sits on the bed, rubbing his hand on his thigh. Niran blurts. 

“I’m not ready to um. Have sex yet, yeah…Can we just… take it slow?”

His stomach turns seeing the way Baptiste smiles. The gleam in his eye. God he hopes he doesn’t think he's a virgin. He mostly doesn’t want sex because he doesn’t want this… interaction. To just be the waste of another traumatic sex memory.

“Of course, I don’t mind waiting. Sex isn’t everything. I don’t mind just watching a show and eating breakfast. Since you don’t like fruit, how about something you would like, do you like american breakfast?”

“Oh my I… I can’t lie, I really like pancakes.”

Happy to be seen as himself and not just. Sex. 

Maybe America wasn’t all that bad.

—-

The cowboy requested him again. Out to date at a highschool reunion, he has to lie about being a boyfriend that the man has had forever. A fiance, he couldn’t hold back the thought of how much better his life would be with a American husband. A citizen, not a refugee. A nice house, no more sex work. Just a husband to help him. Then again he doesn’t doubt his field of work wouldn’t be the first thing his husband would be okay with. Considering the size of the fake ring.

“This is your fiance? Where did you get him, Indonesia?” A older man asks, his arms crossed , his hair is black, pulled back with streaks of white hair from probably  stress or age. He scoffs. 

“I'm Thai. Actually, Indonesia is a nice place, although I studied in India, sorry to break your heart.” Cassidy laughs, the arm around him grips his hip. The man was… proud of him?

“Is this a green card marriage because he is way too fine for you.”  A woman with white hair much like his own asks, she’s wearing a cowboy hat and a leather vest, her large friend standing beside her.

“Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage. You can tell me, I’ll go get my shotgun and make things right hun.” 

Niran laughs, a hand coming to his chest with the hearty sound. Ashe seems to be proud of her joke while Hanzo stands angry, his arms crossed. Woof. What did he do? 

“Niran?”

He turns looking over his shoulder to see the young man he had spent the other day with. His eyes widened, a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. They didn’t they weren’t supposed to know his name.

“Oh. Ah! I’m sorry I caught you at a bad time but-“

“Holy crap. Jean fucking Baptiste, come here man!!! How the hell do you know Niran?” 

Shut up shut up shut up he smiles. He wants to die. Crawl into his own skin and rot forever.

His cheek’s won’t stop flushing.

Instead of making a scene, the man hugs him and whispers.”there better be a good explanation for this”

And pulls back with a smile.

“We met at a coffee shop, this kid has a great idea’s revolving botany! He could really work miracles someday!” Baptise pats his back.

Cassidy pulls his arm back, squeezing a bit too hard. Possessive.

“Oh, that’s cool man!”

The silence sits for a bit too long, the two men glaring at each other. 

“I need to get going but It was great seeing you!” Baptiste waves goodbye before leaving. Niran feels like throwing up. 

“I’m going to use the uh.” He thinks for a second collecting his words. “Restroom, I'll be right back.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

He stops the dark skinned male on his way out, grabbing his arm. “Look. It isn’t what you think.” 

“It better not be. Is it a green card marriage? I can help you with your citizenship if you need help with anything. You don’t have to marry that guy.” His breath stutters in his chest. “Trust me you don’t want to marry that guy.”

“I’m not-” he cuts himself off, looking around himself, trying to find the words. “Please just believe me I can’t explain it. Just. Don’t block my number, I’ll tell you everything I promise.”

Baptiste chuckles, grabbing onto his hand.

“Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I don’t mind fighting for you. Please, enjoy being his trophy husband, You know I’ll be here when you need a real man.” 

Then he left. Unknowing what to say, Niran opted for silence. Standing there, staring as the older male walks away. The cowboy rests a hand on his shoulder. 

“Old friend?”

“Hm? Oh… no new friend, just saying hello before I uh, head to the bathroom.” He flashes a nervous smile. Cassidy sees right through him. 

“Oh you're headed to the bathroom huh? I might join you. You know I uh, I heard the staff bathroom is open. Me you. One toilet, a locked room. How much.”

“I-i don’t know.”

“Ten thousand dollars sounds good to you? Off the record. Away from your mama’s books? Straight to your pockets?”

10k. Holy shit 10k to himself. What the fuck. 

He takes Cassidy’s hand and is led to the bathroom.

Once inside the door is locked behind them, the lights flicker as he stands uncomfortably next to cassidy. The man takes no time to push him back, rough brusing kisses as he unbuttons his shirt.

“I wanna show you something pretty, a little for you now, and the rest for you tonight sugar.” Niran just nodded, the noises in his throat catching trying to stay back as the man flicks at a nipple, causing it to stand erect.

A soft squeal escapes his throat as the manpushes the other hand into his pants, past his boxers and pushing inside of the warm wet heat. Niran makes a noise, but Cassidy covers it, his large hand pushing against his mouth to stop them from getting caught as two fingers keep a steady pace, dampening his underwear. Making his body tremble as the thumb rides up to rub at his enlarged clit.

The young male mews underneath the touch. Oh, oh wow how does he know where THAT is. As if he had a button to be pressed inside of him that said pleasure here, fingerpads pushing against that button over and over and over again until he just pops, his legs shaking as Cassidy chuckles, the moans and mewls held back by his hand ignites him with a sense of pride all while Niran feels light headed as he legs shake. His cunt tightens up, pushing out Cassidy’s fingers with a waterfall of his own fluids.

Cassidy smirks, pulling his hand out and licking the juices off his fingers.

“Good boy.”

 Niran growls as he is pressed against the wall, his legs pushed up as Cassidy wiggles out of his pants. He rolls the condom over his cock before thrusting inside.

It was pretty small.

Niran whines as the man rapidly thrusts inside of him, hardly able to hit that sweet spot. It doesn’t take him long before his hips stutter, snd the man pulls out.

The rest of the party was fun, exciting. He danced with Cassidy’s friends, caught up, and learned about the cowboy's life. They asked him so many questions, questions he didn't know how to answer. Once the night was over, he was at another motel. Laying face down on the bed, trying not to cry as the male pushes two fingers against the tight ring of muscles. He never had anal sex, not before tonight. Cassidy offered so much money for useless trash like himself. Moria would  kill him if he turned it down. The man groans as he pushes his cock inside. It didn’t feel great if he was honest, too dry and too much as the male jackrabbits his hips inside. One two three thrusts and “fuccckk” the Man purrs his words. His hands digging into Niran’s ass. 

“Fuckin’ wonderful.” Cassidy pulls out a cigarette and lights it, Niran politely declines as the man offers it.  Sitting up with a slight wince, Cassidy grabs his things and leaves. “Night’s on me pretty boy, thanks for keeping me company, and a little extra for you kitten.” He tosses more bills into the room before closing the door.

Another thousand. Money he pockets for himself before laying back on his bed. Fuck. He was so screwed rolling over he notices the blood on the sheets, pushing his fingers lightly towards his hole he sighs.

“Ow.” Blood, of course. Why couldn't it be just normal sex? He groans, closing his eyes and choosing to ignore it.

“So. Why were you with millionaire Cassidy?” Baptise asks him over the phone. He holds his chai to his chest, his old roommate had sent him some tea from overseas  and he felt strangely calm drinking it. Close enough to home he supposes. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the spices before responding.

“I work a maid service almost except, lonely guys need arm candy to go to events and stuff and dates and they. Pay me.” He shrugs.

“Oh so you’re a prostitute.”

His nails dig into the cup.

“I kid I kid, it’s not a bad way to make money but you could get hurt. You shouldn’t do that anymore. Something could happen. Those guys could really injure you.”

They have and they will; he can't help but think as Baptiste sounds so deeply concerned. They would keep hurting him until he couldn’t be hurt  anymore. One day he will die from this, especially if he keeps accepting these old veterans and these shady motels.

“I don’t really have any more options. I’m not really. Actually a citizen, people don’t want me to work for them. I wish I could tend to my flowers all day long but I have work to be able to stay here. I can’t go back to my country. Unless I plan on marrying a rich man that's well, 40 years older than me and oh yeah would prefer me to wear a wedding dress and pretend. I am not doing that. So I’ll stick to my job.”

Baptise chuckles dry, the sarcasm was dripping from the phone as the man says .” Well, would you rather be married to a rich man you do know in America?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Niran.” The young man scoffs.

“I don’t know. I just know what I do now pays Bills and hopefully I won't have to do it for long.”

“Marry me?”

Niran laughs, 

“Yet.” 

“Yes?”

“Fuck you, stop messing around. We just met.”

“I'm deadly serious. Quit your job. Take my money. The offers are up for however long you need. Even if you’d rather go on a few more dates first?”

Niran hangs up before the man could end his sentence. Overwhelmed by the news, what does he even do now?

—-

Moira wasn’t her own boss. There was her, then there was…him. A scary older man with deep skin and a white suit in stark contrast. Niran never felt safe around him. After his night with Cole, the boss sat him down in the office. He sat while the man stood strong, bourbon in hand.

“You are our best. And now. You want to leave? You do realize I will lose a lot of money. And you won’t have a roof over your head. A bed to sleep in. Medicine and goodie bags when you need them.” He shakes the little baggie filled with white powder. Niran tries to laugh, awkward and unsteady, he explains what had happened that day. 

The man shakes his head.

“Come to daddy, yes?” 

Niran stands, walking over to the older man, climbing into his lap as instructed. He can’t stop the shiver that goes down his spine.

“30,000. Thats how much you owe us.”

Niran swallows, his eyes widening, pulling his head back.

“What?”

“No actually. 40,000. We gave you food, water, a roof over your head. Now you want to leave. We need 40,000 for those expesnes.”

“I’ve only been here for a few months I… there’s no way i could pay that.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to stay.”

The large hand grasps the small of his waist. He takes a deep breath.

“Can i do. Anything to lower the price?”

The man laughs, grabbing tighter.

“Always.”

—-

Bed. He was in a bed, soft, plush and warm. His hair had fallen in his face but at least he was comfortable underneath some blankets. He wants to stay asleep, whatever drug that man had given him made him feel amazing, he would much rather stay  in dreamland than wake up ever again.

“Bua.” A booming voice speaks to him, the room was dim, unlike the floresences that glew before. Instead his eyes adjust to the dark, slowly sitting up in the bed. A large hand pushes against the back of his head. Forcing him back down onto the bed. He was picked up at a bar. He doesn’t remember much of what happened, they had some drinks and now he was here.  He swallows nothing. He doesn’t think this man understands his native tongue, this wasn’t his home. He wasn’t  with his family. Fuck where was  he? Everything was so blurry. His breath quickens in his chest as the man lets go, parting his legs with his knees, the free hand traces over his chest to his navel, hovering over his clothed pussy. 

“No, ah don’t touch me.”  The man chuckles as a trail of wetness follows his fingers as he pulls back. Through his silk pants? Really?

“You aren’t a man.”

“I am!” He shouts, his cheeks flushed with embrassment. He understood english to a point. The man forces his legs further apart cupping the heat between his legs.

“Men don’t have this where i’m from.”

“Ugh fuck you pig.” He growls, tears bubbling in his eyes. God he’s too drunk to explain his situation. The man laughs at him, not understanding what he is saying. 

“Speak english little one. I don’t want to fuck you. Not yet. How about I take you home with me to america yes? I can give you a job, a home, food, anything you want for that sweet face.”

The man caresses his cheek.

Right.

He hadn’t been home in weeks. Staying at an old friend's house he realizes he had nowhere else to be after his family disowned him. 

Niran had just turned 18 not even a few months ago. Whne he turned 18 he got into a fight with his mother. He refused to marry an older man, wealthy and kind and all he had to do was act like a woman around other people. For the rest of his life.

He was no woman.

The man had a slimey smile, like making a deal with the devil. 

“Come to the States with me. I will make you richer than you could ever imagine.”

Niran shakes his hand. 

— 

He remembers his first time as he is bent over the table. The man does not prep him nor does he wear a condom as he violently jackrabbits inside of him. Rutting his hips, each thrust nearly sends Niran flying. Biting down hard on his lower lip to keep the cries of discomfort and pain sounding like moans. Tears and snot blurring his vision and clawing his lungs apart.

The man forces himself in one last time. Cumming with a loud excited groan. 

“How are you just as tight when i first met you, hm bua?”

—

It was agonizing, sobbing into the bedsheets. Each second was painful, the man's large dick twitched inside of him when he shifted his bodyweight. 

The pace was excruciating, saliva building up in his mouth as pain shoots through his body in bursts, white hot through his veins.

“Stop.” He whimpers, leading into a low sob. He had never really felt small before. But now he felt so miserably tiny. As the man rapidly thrusts his cock into him, over and over. The smell of copper filling the air as the flower deep in his core was plucked and torn apart. The visual in his head wouldn’t leave.

I'm so sorry mom. Is all he could think as the man defiles him, the man doesn't last long. Maybe it's the cries of pain that make him closer to orgasm, maybe the virgin blood or even the way that Niran gave up makes him feel like a big strong man.

The man groans, slamming inside of him one last time.

The man doesn’t kiss him. Doesn't do anything, instead he pulls out, gets up and walks away. 

Leaving Niran in a puddle of his own fluids. He can’t move. He’s too tired, his bloody thighs sticking together as he curls up in the springy bed, clenching his eyes shut. 

He just wanted to go home.

—-

As the man comes, he leaves Niran naked in his office.

“You can leave. Once you get me that money. 30,000. Cash.”

The young male pulls himself up, how many times has he done this? Enough that his knees and elbows were bruised. That he felt everytime hurt worse than the time before. Sex was supposed to be fun, a wild time.

Niran doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed it.

—

Sitting in the coffee shop, he sips a new tea, some kind of ‘island’ variant that just had a smidge of pineapple in it. (Rather disappointing.) He just needed to get out. Get some way to make the money without selling his body. His leg shakes as he sits at the counter.

A young woman approaches him. A hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, uh. You look like you're a little stressed out today, I think you should have this. On me. And uh. If you need someone to talk to my friend, she's a doctor. She can help you.”

Niran hasn’t slept in days. Were his dark circles and constant picking at his cuticles distracting.

“Oh I-I’m sorry, I can leave if I’m disturbing you-“ he nervously begins to pack his things.

“Oh no! You don’t have to do that. I'm sorry I didn’t mean anything over just. I see you everyday here and I wanna make sure you’re alright. If. If you’re being hurt at home or something.” She's talking quietly, grabbing onto his hand. So gentle. So soft. She reminds him of his mother. 

“I am. I am okay.” He lies with tears in his eyes. “Thank you for the.” He looks at the pastry, having no idea what to call it, he smiles and says. “Food. Thank you for the food.” The older woman pats his shoulder and with a bright smile she walks away.

He needed out. 

—

The sunlight beams into the room, fluttering lashes as he tries to push away the thoughts of heading back go bed. His fingers threading the sheets as Baptiste’s mouth laps at his hole. Soft and wet, he’s never recieved oral sex before. The way that the soft fuzz of the man’s beard rubs against his thighs, the way his heart flutters and his stomach does that weird twisty knot thing. He whines out as two fingers linger against his tight hole, pushing slowly inside. He whines low. It felt good as Baptiste rubs against the sweet spot located deep inside of himself. One that most people didn’t know about. The spot that makes his legs tremble mixing with the way Bap won’t stop suckling on his clit, the way his face flush deep and his stomach sucks in. 

“Fuck.” 

Jean laughs, the sound vibrating across his clit. He doesn’t stop. He suckles at the oversensitive clit whilst fingering into that deep sweet spot.

“Come for me my angel, I know you can do it. “ the man growls, laping at his hole, enjoying the warm taste of Niran.  It tasted almost, comforting. 

Baptise smiles as the young man trembles, biting down on his lowerlip as his hands push Bap’s mouth down into his orgasm, his thighs clenching the man’s head tight, his back arching, a bead of sweat flying off of his brow, clenching his eyes shut .The wetness between his legs growing as the man growls below him. His hands tousled in coarse hair, unable to hold back how high his body felt, crying out as an overwhelming strange feeling tingled in his belly before the orgasm hit. Oh my god.

He was in heaven. Wasn’t he?  His pussy clenches down hard around the two fingers. His fluids squirting onto the bed sheets, into Baps mouth, dripping down his chin. He doesn’t think he’s ever come so hard in his life.

“You’re so fucking sexy My beautiful prince. Let me worship your body.”

“Fuck me.” He whimpers.

An angel.

This man was an angel, a godly being that was sent down to earth for him and him alone. His white hair, his tan skin. His soft velvety lips that never seemed to be dry, wet and plump, his body was perfect. He was perfect. And Baptise was going to hold this angel close and Never EVER let it go. This moment, this person was too precious.

Breathing so heavily, brown eyes half lidded, the flush that was down to his belly. So beautiful. The mole that rests on his hip, the birthmark on his ribs. The faded scars on his thighs. He was perfection embodied.

A hand reaching towards the younger males face. Not a dot of acne. Nothing. So perfectly soft and gentle. Innocent. He wouldn’t be shocked if this was a poor things first time.

“We should wait. You’re far too beautiful to waste. I don’t want to be the one to ruin you.”

Niran nearly scoffs, trying not to roll his eyes.

“I’m not a virgin.” He says softly, knowing he doesn’t have to lie when he’s not at work. “I’m really not.”

Baptiste doesn’t seem to believe him. He raises a brow and chuckles at the man beneath him.

“Neither am I.” 

“Fuck me already.” Niran purrs, his eyes glimmering with lust. The man smirks, shuffling in his sleepwear. Pulling his cock out. It was huge, bigger than any he's seen before and well, he’s seen a lot.

“How do you wanna do this hm? On your back, on your belly. Would you ride me?”

“Yeah.” The white haired male smiles. “I’ll ride you.” Let himself have some control during an act he usually never had control with. 

Climbing onto the man's lap, slowly and sultry. He lines the cock up with his soft lips, the warm inviting slit and. 

“Fuck.” He whimpers, biting down on his lower lip, trying to keep the noises from escaping. It felt good.  His eye’s close as he lowers himself. It was thick, girthy and rather long. Nothing he was quite used to.  He throws his head back, rotating his hips. Slowly pushing himself up and down, the cock inside of him twitching. Hard like a rock. He must’ve been taking too long, or the pace was too slow. Baptiste pushes him down onto the bed, holding onto his shoulders, making Niran wince. It wasn’t all too pleasant to shift.

The man forces the rest of his cock inside, making the young man beneath him squeal in a weird sense of pleasure and pain because fuck fuck what the fuck? That was a place he had never felt before. It was like a bundle of nerves deep inside of him that felt like… god it felt like a warm summer day back at home. Pure bliss in the warm sun. No rain, sunny and bright by the sea, watering his plants and wow. He felt so good he swears the wet warmness of his own fluid  was uncontrollable even with the man’s penis inside he couldn’t stop himself from coming.  The unbearable feeling of his orgasm, the way even as Baptise pulls him apart each sharp thrust sending his body into deep trembles. His body bears witness to the sins of his past. It felt wonderful. Amazing actually. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of the men on him before. The feeling of being used. Even as Baptiste slams into that sweet spot. He can’t help the tears that well up in his eyes. “Stop it.” He whispers softly, the man on top of him doesn’t seem to have heard. He hangs his head. Tears drip down cheeks, catching on the soft sheets and soaking them with the salty moisture.

He puts hands over his mouth to hide his sobs, too soon it was too soon, it felt like that man all over again, uncomfortable but feeling so incredibly high. The man slamming into his sweet spot over and over again, brusing his cervix so deep inside of him. 

“Fuck! Niran!” The man grunts, his large hands shoving his shoulders down, the grip felt painful, incredibly so. A soft sob stiffles from his lips, unable to hold back his pain and panic.

“Fuck. Oh shit was i too rough? Im sorry did I hurt you?” Niran shakes his head at the questions, wiping at his wet eyes. He didn’t mean to cry. To fall apart the way he did. This was supposed to be fun, sex was fun and sex felt good. Why the fuck was he crying again? And why couldn’t he stop? Tears falling down his cheeks faster than he would have ever thought.

“Im sorry.” The man apologizes again and again, the young thai man wouldn’t stop crying, his body trembling, as if semen wasn’t puddling out of him. He hates it when men think they can use him, their own personal cum dump, to lose their seed in then leave.

“You bastard, fuck, why did you come in me? You’re a fucking asshole.” He barks, at least he can fight back. “You can’t take me like you own me you fucking dick.” Through soft sobs, he realizes that Baptise doesn’t understand him. He isn’t speaking english and he doesn’t have the fucking heart too. How would he have known? Trying his hardest not to seem weak but his tears wouldn’t stop themselves. They just ran around like they owned the place, taking over his emotions and feeling and everything he had ever done before.

Baptise frowns, taking a warm washrag to Niran, taking from context clues  that he was probably in the doghouse for being so rough, coming inside. Niran told him he wasn’t a virgin and he looked like he was having a good time. He can’t believe he didn’t notice he was crying until it was too late. He just. Kind of lays there. Curled up on his side refusing to face him as sobs shake his body. He isn’t a small man. No he was musclar and rather tall. Taller than Baptise himself but, right now he looked tiny.

Fuck.

He brings the warm washrag down, trying to wipe his seed away.

“Please don’t touch me.” Niran whimpers, finally back to english.  Baptise wants to pull away, but he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, i have to clean you up. I fucked up, I’m sorry you just felt so good. I won’t do it again.” As baptiste cleans him Niran speaks up again.

“I’m sorry, it isn’t your fault. I was.  Assaulted a few months ago. Just, it felt good I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Can we… please just go slower next time? Please…” 

“Niran…”

”I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Sure my angel.” Baptise plants a kiss on his hip. “You’re so brave. Beautiful. So strong. I promise you, I will never make you cry again, not unless it is out of sheer happiness and joy.” Niran smiles at his words, it’s soft and sad. Baptise pulls the blanket over his nude body. Kissing his head.

The rest of the day was gentle, holding onto each other with Niran’s red eyes and Baps strong hands running through soft white hair. 

“I want to marry you.” Niran says softly.

Baptise smiles but says nothing more than. “Perfect.”