Archive of Our Own ^beta

There wasn’t ever a time when Lion’s head didn’t feel all kinds of fucked-up. 

Fuzzy from the medicine his brother fed him. Dizzy from countless hits to his head. Swimming with the feeling of being used over, and over, and over again. 

He just wanted, for one day, to be able to think clearly. To not have the burden of pain knocking at his skull, or the voice of his brother echoing in the back of his mind. Of course, that would never happen. Not if Stan had anything to say about it. 

Rent was due, and so that meant that Lion had work to do. Well— 

“Lion, baby,” Stan cooed, his big palms engulfing the sides of Lion’s face. “You know I don’t like to do this, right?” 

He didn’t have the energy to answer. He just stared at his brother mutely, fighting to keep his eyes open, lost in the smell of Stan’s cheap cologne that was invading his senses. “I just don’t have the money right now, it’ll be different next month, I promise.” 

It’ll be different next month, Lion. 

We’ll make big money when you win, Lion. 

Over and over again. And they never did. Well, Lion never did. It wasn’t Stan’s fault that he kept losing. They still were in the same place that smelled like piss and mildew, still could barely get by with what Lion managed to collect. 

Maybe that’s why Lion never complained about… this. 

“Baby?” Stan was looking at him with worry sharp in his eyes. 

“Who?” he managed, wincing as he heard how rough his voice sounded. “Some jackass down the street,” Stan replied, like it hurt. “Lion, you know I don’t like to—” 

“‘S alright.” Lion dragged himself away from his brother, tugging his old, ratty T-shirt over his head. It wasn’t Stan’s fault. “When do I gotta be there?” The water was cold under his fingertips, and he was all too aware of Stan’s eyes on him as he stepped into the shower.

“Uh,” Stan cleared his throat. “Soon. He’s coming here, though. I don’t want you somewhere where I can’t see you. Isn’t safe.” 

Lion’s face twisted uncomfortably, panic bubbling up in his chest. He didn’t want Stan to see. He knew, in the more rational part of his brain, that Stan knew what happened; he was the one who got Lion into all this in the first place, but he didn’t want his brother to see him like this. 

He closed his eyes, his head swimming. “Okay,” he whispered roughly, dragging a hand over his face. “Shit, alright.” The cold water running down his back didn't help with the shivers that were racking through his body, making his teeth chatter. “You got any more of those pills?” 

The pills helped. Stan would feed them to him at night, when he needed to sleep but the pain wouldn’t let him. He could really use those now, it was better to be unconscious when it happened. 

“No,” Stan answered, sounding regretful. “Sorry, baby.” 

The knock came sooner than he expected. His hair was still damp from the shower, little beads of cold water seeping into the soft cotton of his shirt. Stan answered the door without a word, and Lion could hear voices from where he was sitting numbly on the mattress. Lion didn’t bother moving as he heard his brother's voice and someone else’s—a louder, more powerful one—come down the hall. 

“How long do I get?” The voice asked gruffly, and Lion winced. He knew the kind of man he was already—the rough, mean kind. “Depends how much you’re paying.” Came Stan’s reply, footsteps getting closer. 

Please, please, please.

“How’s five hundred?” 

Lion shrunk back in on himself, hating the way that his throat was already tightening. The voices went quiet, suddenly. “That’ll get you two hours,” Stan answered. His voice sounded rough, like he was suddenly reconsidering. 

The stranger was burly—larger than Stan, with thick, copper skin and a wiry beard. He wasn’t anything special, but his eyes gleamed with something mean, something that all the men who he ‘met’ usually had. It could’ve been a number of things—repressed feelings, self hatred. And Lion was there to be an outlet for those feelings. 

“He’s a pretty one, I’ll give you that.” The man was sizing him up, now, taking in his smaller stature and bruised skin. He didn’t know what those kinds of men liked—he wasn’t attracted to men—but whatever Lion had, it was attracting all the wrong kinds of people. Stan just stood there, looking and nodding along with what the bigger man was saying, his eyes never leaving Lion’s. 

The stranger pulled out a thick wad of cash and handed it to Stan. “Pleasure doin’ business,” he sneered as Stan took it and headed towards the door, tossing a glance back at Lion. 

He flinched as the door shut with a loud ‘click.’ 

A rough hand pushed him down on the mattress and manhandled him onto his stomach. That was good. He didn’t have to see the stranger’s face; he could hide as much as he could. “Look at you,” the man purred, hooking his fingers in Lion’s waistband and pulling down. “An’ this pretty pussy.” Hands groped his ass, then wrapped around his soft cock. 

He would’ve been humiliated by the stranger’s words, if this were the first time. But it wasn’t, and Lion had learned to close his eyes and pretend it wasn't happening, that he was somewhere else. It worked, for the most part. 

But then there was the pain. 

Harsh and nauseating, his body feeling something that shouldn’t be there push inside of him slowly. Unforgivingly. A sound ripped out of his throat—like an animal being wounded. He was trapped under the bigger man’s weight, and even if he could get away, he’d have to face his brother, who he knew was standing outside of the door right now. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” the man purred in his ear, his hairy chest draped over Lion’s back. “Mhm, gonna fuck this lil’ pussy so hard, baby.” The man pushed his hips forward, forcing himself deeper. Lion buried his face in the dirty mattress to muffle his screams, and prayed that he didn’t get sick right there. 

After all these times, it wasn’t any less painful. 

He bit down on his own fist as tears streamed down his face, and little punched-out sounds that the man above him mistook for moans spilled out of his lips with every thrust. A steady stream of degrading words were tossed at him as he was fucked into the matress, his limp body shuddering weakly.

Hours went by slowly. The man had Lion on his knees, on the bed, against the wall; used him in any way that he could. Lion was a limp doll in his hands, soft and pliable and good. Just like Stan told him to be. 

He wasn’t fully conscious until he felt someone shaking him, calling his name softly. He felt sore in places he shouldn’t, and cold. “Stan?” he called deliriously, pulling his legs closer to himself. He felt something warm trickle down his thigh. 

“Shh, baby,” Stan whispered, his hands cupping Lion’s cheek. His face was a mask of concern, those blue eyes shining brightly in the muted yellow light. “You did good, so good. Such a good thing for me.” The praise shouldn’t have relaxed Lion as much as it did, but he felt himself melting into his brother’s touch, leaning into him. “Hurts,” he whispered softly, his eyes fluttering as Stan’s hands explored the skin of his thighs. 

“I know, I know.” Warm hands gently pried Lion’s trembling legs open. “Shh,” Stan shushed as Lion made a weak sound of protest. “I’m just looking, baby. Gotta make sure you’re okay.” 

Soft fingers traced his hole before easily slipping inside, feeling around. Lion whined, his hips pressing back to Stan’s fingers instinctively. “He was rough, wasn’t he?” Stan’s voice sounded breathless, like he was trying to keep his composure. The finger inside him crooked up, brushing the sensitive ball of nerves inside him. He whimpered and curled further into a ball. 

Lion couldn’t manage any words, so he just nodded mutely as Stan peppered kisses on his shoulders. This—all this—felt like an apology. Stan was being gentle in a way he rarely was, kissing the side of Lion’s neck, his fingers slow and sweet inside him, like he was savoring him. 

After a few minutes, Lion’s eyelids began to droop again, lulled by Stan’s gentle words and gentler touches. His mind didnt register that Stan had removed his fingers and was now behind him, resting his hands on Lion’s hips. “Open up, baby.” 

Stan pressed two pills onto Lion’s tongue, letting them dissolve. 

Almost instantly, Lion felt his mind slow down and start to go blank, but something floated in the back of his mind: Stan said he didn’t have any more pills. As the drug started to set in, he felt the warmth of his brother’s hands roaming his body slowly. His eyes drooped further.

“That’s it, Lion. Go to sleep.”