Haven (3/??)
Title: Haven (3/??)
Pairing: David Villa/ David Silva
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: not real
Summary: Silva is young and inoccent. Villa liked his boys young and innocent. AU
Chapter 3
“Don’t you dare play that, ‘I’m feeling dizzy,’ crap on me!” Cesc snapped tersely, forcing David to sit up straight, gasp in shocked outrage, and stare with his mouth gaping.
“And don’t look at me like that.” Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Cesc glared in warning.
“You’re old enough to know what’s going on. From the moment you walked through that door, you knew what this place was.”
In actuality, it had only dawned on David moments before that this was a ‘pleasure house’ for the wealthy. It was far more different from a whorehouse. This was an acclaimed ‘holy ground,’ as some would call it. It even had government intervention, concerning the health and well-being of the workers. They were not considered to be whores, but helpers, tutors, or teachers, depending on the costumer’s preference. In a curious way, it was true. They were here to discover the art of lovemaking.
David’s shock momentarily vanished as he felt his stomach turn. Then suddenly he felt cold, despite the fact that he was sweating. The tiny hairs on his nape prickled to life and goose bumps spread over his entire body. A hand suddenly clenched over his mouth. He swallowed hard as he felt the bile rise in his throat. Distantly, he heard Cesc lecturing him.
“Cesc...” he groaned, through what felt like muck in his mouth. “...I...don’t feel...so well.” With that said he gagged once, forced his head down, and vomited over his shoes.
Gasps of shock came from Leila, Fernando, and Mata, whom he had recently met. A flurry of activity came next. Soon he felt strong hands on him, dragging him away from the mess. He found himself being forced to lie down. A warm, moist towel was placed on his forehead. The acrid smell of vomit reached his nose and he gagged once again, but gentle fingers ghosted past his upper lip, leaving a moist feeling and the strong smell of sweet lavender. He shut his eyes, fearing that if he opened them, the ceiling would begin to spin. Nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, which he brushed off weakly with irritation.
“Stop it. You’re sweating like a pig.” Cesc’s voice was gentler now, as if he were just waiting for this to happen, as though this had been his goal.
“Just rest a bit. We’ll be outside the room, if you need anything, just hit the gong.”
He swallowed, throat burning, as he heard the door close. Soon enough, Cesc and his new acquaintances began to converse. At first he heard only murmurs, but straining his ears, their words became clearer.
“He’s not ready.” The gentle voice of a woman, worry coating her tone.
“Yes, he is. He’s just nervous.” A petulant tone, which David associated with the unbearably handsome man he knew now as Fernando.
“You saw what happened!” Leila argued, “Clearly this sort of environment is new to him. He probably thinks he’s in a nightmare right now!”
“Come on Leila...”
“Calm down...” Now it was Cesc’s assertive tone. “He’s fine. I was just waiting for him to throw up. It’s a habit of his, really. It’s an indication that he now understands the situation.”
If he could, he would have stormed out of the room to gouge Cesc’s eyes out. Vomiting was not a habit of his. Sure, he vomited more often than the average person, but that was because he had a weak stomach, or so he was told by countless doctors, who, David conveniently tried to overlook, were actually psychiatrists.
“What?” Came Fernando’s annoyed response.
“It’s a habit. He’s thrown up more times than you can imagine.”
This, David could not allow. How dare Cesc speak of him as though he was some sort of spoiled, petulant child that resorted to vomiting just for mere appearances sake? He pushed himself off the sofa and drunkenly walked toward the door. Opening it, his fist came in contact with Cesc’s jaw so fast that he did not give them the chance to gasp.
“How dare you!” he cried, the feeling of betrayal fresh and stinging. Three pairs of wide eyes stared at him, their mouths gaping in shock. Somehow, none of them knew how to react besides staring.
Only Cesc had the audacity to chuckle and rub his jaw as if it didn’t hurt, when in reality, if he had been behind closed doors, he would have cried. This only fueled David’s burning anger, fanning it to the point that he saw red.
He knew he was cursing and screaming bloody hell, but he never understood the words that fell from his month. Once spent, he stood heaving; his face heated and lips red from the blood pounding to his head. Unfortunately for him, his passion only managed to accentuate his features.
The first to finally break the tension was Leila. “Obviously, this isn’t going to work out. It was a hopeful idea, but the result would have been disastrous.”
“ARE YOU MAD!!!” This came from Fernando, who now stared at David as if he were a god.
“He’s perfect!” He cried out in glee. “My God! Villa would pay billions to have him!”
“Are you mad?” Scoffing, Leila rolled her eyes. “Clearly your brain cells much have committed suicide...”
“This is perfect.” Fernando ranted, paying no heed to Leila, who was trying to make a point.
“I love the fire in him.” He held out his hand to Cesc.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” Cesc grinned and took his hand, throwing David a sidelong glance while smirking at the same time.
“No, the pleasure is all mine.” To David’s discomfort, he said it all too silkily.
Somehow he got the feeling that he had just dug himself into a hole and there was no way to escape.
//
David Villa woke, hearing the slow turn of metal. He sat up so fast that the room spun. He recognized that sound, the golden key turning into the lock. Soon he saw the door slide open, and before he realized what had happened, three pairs of arms had tossed in what looked to be a wriggling body wrapped up in a flimsy sheet. For a moment he though he saw Fernando’s grin as the door closed rapidly before him.
Once again, he heard the clinking turn of metal. He sighed. There was no way out of this, but what kind of cruel joke was it to throw in the person he’d be spending two days of pleasure with wrapped and bound by a sheet and a cord?
The body within the sheet seemed to be screaming. He noticed it wriggling quite furiously. However, its screams seemed to be muffled, as though something had been placed in its mouth to keep it quiet.
Was this a new way of entertaining customers? The idea scandalized him. Did they think he was some sort of sadist who would enjoy this type of show? Villa scoffed, thinking that if this was a type of entertainment, then the one in the sheet would certainly know how to get out of it.
He laid himself back down on the sofa and closed his eyes, ignoring the muffled screams and rustling of the sheet. Soon, whoever it was wrapped up in the sheet would realize that this was not at all entertaining. He might as well stop the act.
//
For what seemed like a brief moment, Villa had fallen asleep and awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. He sat up, slightly confused as to why the person assigned to him was still wrapped up in the sheet. Small sobs of breathlessness cracked through his confusion and, as if he had been doused in cold water, he realized that something had gone wrong. He rushed to the body lying helplessly on the floor and pealed the sheets first from what looked to be the person’s head. As soon as the head emerged, Villa fell back on his hands, emitting a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Assigned to him was a youth who looked no older than sixteen. To make it worse, something was lodged in his mouth and taped over several times.
‘Why hasn’t he removed it himself?’ He thought angrily. The young man turned his head slightly, not having the strength to lift his head any further. His eyes were puffy from crying. His whole face was red with restraint.
“What kind of sick joke is this?” He demanded angrily. Villa then realized that the boy lying in front of him was helpless, had been helpless all along.
“Oh god, Fernando!” he groaned between his teeth. Hurriedly, he untied the cord that was wrapped over the boy’s waist and sheet, only to discover that the boy’s wrists had also been tied together behind his back.
Looking at the knots, Villa saw that whoever had done this must have wanted to make sure that this young man would not be able to free himself. During the boy’s struggle, the cord had scraped against his skin and dug through his flesh. There were now welts and tiny spots of blood visible.
Villa pushed himself off the floor and ran for the bar where he knew knives were keep for cutting lemons. The boy misinterpreted this as abandonment and screamed in panic at the sight of Villa’s retreating back, new tears springing to his eyes. Villa didn’t feel the need to explain what he was doing. His primary goal at the moment was to cut the cords, not to reassure a panicked youth.
When he returned with a knife in hand, the boy squirmed, his eyes wide with what looked to be shock and fear. He screamed, the sound muffled by his gag. He tried to wriggle away from Villa, but Villa grabbed and forcefully pushed him down.
“I’m going to cut the cords,” he snapped, “not massacre you!”
This seemed to have calmed the boy. He began cutting at the cords and one by one they snapped. Villa expected the boy to rip the tape from over his lips and spit out whatever was lodged in his mouth. However, freeing him seemed to be causing him renewed pain, as though moving his arms were more painful than having them tied.
Villa went ahead to gently roll him on his back, causing the boy to shut his eyes and groan. He watched the boy’s fingers fidget as though blood were now flooding his veins, causing his arms to spasm. Slowly, he began to peal a layer of tape. When he reached the final layer, he was extremely careful, knowing how painful it must be. He’d had the experience of having his eyebrows waxed before, but this was completely different.
As soon as the tape was removed, the boy coughed out what appeared to be rolled up cloth. The boy gasped, taking in a deep breath from his mouth. This time he sobbed openly and freely, without being constrained.
Villa allowed him to cry, saying nothing. He slowly pealed the sheet from his waist until the boy was completely free. It was then he noticed that his ankles had been bounded as well.
“What the hell was Fernando thinking?” he cursed angrily, cutting the cords that bound the boy’s ankles.
He watched how every time the boy would move, he would groan out in pain. This confused Villa. He had not been tied up so long that he should have this reaction, but the welts on his wrists and ankles were proof that this young man had been bound longer than he realized. He got up from the floor and made his way to old fashioned porcelain, silver studded telephone. Pressing a button, he waited for a reply.
“Hi, yes. This is David Villa from suite 7, I’d like to talk to Leila.” He paused, waiting for a response.
“No, I need to speak to her now.” Villa’s tone became terse.
“That is none of my concern... Thank you. Ah yes, hello Leila. No I’m perfectly fine. Would you mind telling me something? How long ago did you throw in the young man tied up, muffled, and wrapped up in a sheet? No I did not find it at all amusing,” he said in a darker tone.
“What...? Excuse me? Can you repeat that? TWO HOURS!!!” He cried in disbelief.
“HAVE YOU GONE MAD!? What are you talking about!? No, I fell asleep damn you! Do you have any idea what would have happened if he stayed like that for another minute? Leila...if you hang up on me I swear I’ll...Damn!!!” He replaced the receiver back onto its slot and slapped his palm against the wall.
He turned, looking down at the floor where the young man lay motionless, no longer sobbing, but breathing thickly through his mouth. A tiny needle seemed to have pricked his heart then.
Poor kid...what could have landed him in this pathetic situation? he shook his head and sighed. He knew this birthday was going to be a disaster, but at least it wasn’t as bad as he had dreaded. He walked toward the listless body and crouched down on his heel.
“Are you alright?” he asked flatly, neither concern nor annoyance lacing his tone.
The young man cracked a puffy eye for a moment, scanning Villa, and then closed it again.
“Leave me alone.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” the young man snapped through a hiccough.
“Listen, I know you probably feel like thousands of needles are pricking your arms right now, having your wrists tied behind your back for two hours and lying on the floor...”
“Go away!”
“Fine, but I suggest...” Whatever Villa was about to say was cut short by a deadening glare. He would have fallen back had he not balanced himself with his hand.
“I said...GO AWAY!”
Villa scoffed. Why is it that every time he felt generous enough to help a person in need, he received rebuffs instead of gratitude? He got up, placing a foot on both sides of the boy and hauled the young man up by his armpits.
He half carried and half dragged the boy, who amazingly did not protest, to the bed. Laying the boy on his stomach instead of his back.
“Your arms must have fallen asleep. I’m going to massage them to get your circulations working again.”
Once his hands clamped down on the boy’s arm, he groaned, muffling the pain through bitten sheets. He began to cry again, sobbing profusely.
“They’re all going to die for this...” he cried. “I’ll kill them all...especially Cesc.”
‘Such impassioned words’. Villa thought. ‘Don’t worry. Once we get out of this, I have an idea who one of those you plan to kill might be.’
Pairing: David Villa/ David Silva
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: not real
Summary: Silva is young and inoccent. Villa liked his boys young and innocent. AU
Chapter 3
“Don’t you dare play that, ‘I’m feeling dizzy,’ crap on me!” Cesc snapped tersely, forcing David to sit up straight, gasp in shocked outrage, and stare with his mouth gaping.
“And don’t look at me like that.” Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Cesc glared in warning.
“You’re old enough to know what’s going on. From the moment you walked through that door, you knew what this place was.”
In actuality, it had only dawned on David moments before that this was a ‘pleasure house’ for the wealthy. It was far more different from a whorehouse. This was an acclaimed ‘holy ground,’ as some would call it. It even had government intervention, concerning the health and well-being of the workers. They were not considered to be whores, but helpers, tutors, or teachers, depending on the costumer’s preference. In a curious way, it was true. They were here to discover the art of lovemaking.
David’s shock momentarily vanished as he felt his stomach turn. Then suddenly he felt cold, despite the fact that he was sweating. The tiny hairs on his nape prickled to life and goose bumps spread over his entire body. A hand suddenly clenched over his mouth. He swallowed hard as he felt the bile rise in his throat. Distantly, he heard Cesc lecturing him.
“Cesc...” he groaned, through what felt like muck in his mouth. “...I...don’t feel...so well.” With that said he gagged once, forced his head down, and vomited over his shoes.
Gasps of shock came from Leila, Fernando, and Mata, whom he had recently met. A flurry of activity came next. Soon he felt strong hands on him, dragging him away from the mess. He found himself being forced to lie down. A warm, moist towel was placed on his forehead. The acrid smell of vomit reached his nose and he gagged once again, but gentle fingers ghosted past his upper lip, leaving a moist feeling and the strong smell of sweet lavender. He shut his eyes, fearing that if he opened them, the ceiling would begin to spin. Nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, which he brushed off weakly with irritation.
“Stop it. You’re sweating like a pig.” Cesc’s voice was gentler now, as if he were just waiting for this to happen, as though this had been his goal.
“Just rest a bit. We’ll be outside the room, if you need anything, just hit the gong.”
He swallowed, throat burning, as he heard the door close. Soon enough, Cesc and his new acquaintances began to converse. At first he heard only murmurs, but straining his ears, their words became clearer.
“He’s not ready.” The gentle voice of a woman, worry coating her tone.
“Yes, he is. He’s just nervous.” A petulant tone, which David associated with the unbearably handsome man he knew now as Fernando.
“You saw what happened!” Leila argued, “Clearly this sort of environment is new to him. He probably thinks he’s in a nightmare right now!”
“Come on Leila...”
“Calm down...” Now it was Cesc’s assertive tone. “He’s fine. I was just waiting for him to throw up. It’s a habit of his, really. It’s an indication that he now understands the situation.”
If he could, he would have stormed out of the room to gouge Cesc’s eyes out. Vomiting was not a habit of his. Sure, he vomited more often than the average person, but that was because he had a weak stomach, or so he was told by countless doctors, who, David conveniently tried to overlook, were actually psychiatrists.
“What?” Came Fernando’s annoyed response.
“It’s a habit. He’s thrown up more times than you can imagine.”
This, David could not allow. How dare Cesc speak of him as though he was some sort of spoiled, petulant child that resorted to vomiting just for mere appearances sake? He pushed himself off the sofa and drunkenly walked toward the door. Opening it, his fist came in contact with Cesc’s jaw so fast that he did not give them the chance to gasp.
“How dare you!” he cried, the feeling of betrayal fresh and stinging. Three pairs of wide eyes stared at him, their mouths gaping in shock. Somehow, none of them knew how to react besides staring.
Only Cesc had the audacity to chuckle and rub his jaw as if it didn’t hurt, when in reality, if he had been behind closed doors, he would have cried. This only fueled David’s burning anger, fanning it to the point that he saw red.
He knew he was cursing and screaming bloody hell, but he never understood the words that fell from his month. Once spent, he stood heaving; his face heated and lips red from the blood pounding to his head. Unfortunately for him, his passion only managed to accentuate his features.
The first to finally break the tension was Leila. “Obviously, this isn’t going to work out. It was a hopeful idea, but the result would have been disastrous.”
“ARE YOU MAD!!!” This came from Fernando, who now stared at David as if he were a god.
“He’s perfect!” He cried out in glee. “My God! Villa would pay billions to have him!”
“Are you mad?” Scoffing, Leila rolled her eyes. “Clearly your brain cells much have committed suicide...”
“This is perfect.” Fernando ranted, paying no heed to Leila, who was trying to make a point.
“I love the fire in him.” He held out his hand to Cesc.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” Cesc grinned and took his hand, throwing David a sidelong glance while smirking at the same time.
“No, the pleasure is all mine.” To David’s discomfort, he said it all too silkily.
Somehow he got the feeling that he had just dug himself into a hole and there was no way to escape.
//
David Villa woke, hearing the slow turn of metal. He sat up so fast that the room spun. He recognized that sound, the golden key turning into the lock. Soon he saw the door slide open, and before he realized what had happened, three pairs of arms had tossed in what looked to be a wriggling body wrapped up in a flimsy sheet. For a moment he though he saw Fernando’s grin as the door closed rapidly before him.
Once again, he heard the clinking turn of metal. He sighed. There was no way out of this, but what kind of cruel joke was it to throw in the person he’d be spending two days of pleasure with wrapped and bound by a sheet and a cord?
The body within the sheet seemed to be screaming. He noticed it wriggling quite furiously. However, its screams seemed to be muffled, as though something had been placed in its mouth to keep it quiet.
Was this a new way of entertaining customers? The idea scandalized him. Did they think he was some sort of sadist who would enjoy this type of show? Villa scoffed, thinking that if this was a type of entertainment, then the one in the sheet would certainly know how to get out of it.
He laid himself back down on the sofa and closed his eyes, ignoring the muffled screams and rustling of the sheet. Soon, whoever it was wrapped up in the sheet would realize that this was not at all entertaining. He might as well stop the act.
//
For what seemed like a brief moment, Villa had fallen asleep and awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. He sat up, slightly confused as to why the person assigned to him was still wrapped up in the sheet. Small sobs of breathlessness cracked through his confusion and, as if he had been doused in cold water, he realized that something had gone wrong. He rushed to the body lying helplessly on the floor and pealed the sheets first from what looked to be the person’s head. As soon as the head emerged, Villa fell back on his hands, emitting a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Assigned to him was a youth who looked no older than sixteen. To make it worse, something was lodged in his mouth and taped over several times.
‘Why hasn’t he removed it himself?’ He thought angrily. The young man turned his head slightly, not having the strength to lift his head any further. His eyes were puffy from crying. His whole face was red with restraint.
“What kind of sick joke is this?” He demanded angrily. Villa then realized that the boy lying in front of him was helpless, had been helpless all along.
“Oh god, Fernando!” he groaned between his teeth. Hurriedly, he untied the cord that was wrapped over the boy’s waist and sheet, only to discover that the boy’s wrists had also been tied together behind his back.
Looking at the knots, Villa saw that whoever had done this must have wanted to make sure that this young man would not be able to free himself. During the boy’s struggle, the cord had scraped against his skin and dug through his flesh. There were now welts and tiny spots of blood visible.
Villa pushed himself off the floor and ran for the bar where he knew knives were keep for cutting lemons. The boy misinterpreted this as abandonment and screamed in panic at the sight of Villa’s retreating back, new tears springing to his eyes. Villa didn’t feel the need to explain what he was doing. His primary goal at the moment was to cut the cords, not to reassure a panicked youth.
When he returned with a knife in hand, the boy squirmed, his eyes wide with what looked to be shock and fear. He screamed, the sound muffled by his gag. He tried to wriggle away from Villa, but Villa grabbed and forcefully pushed him down.
“I’m going to cut the cords,” he snapped, “not massacre you!”
This seemed to have calmed the boy. He began cutting at the cords and one by one they snapped. Villa expected the boy to rip the tape from over his lips and spit out whatever was lodged in his mouth. However, freeing him seemed to be causing him renewed pain, as though moving his arms were more painful than having them tied.
Villa went ahead to gently roll him on his back, causing the boy to shut his eyes and groan. He watched the boy’s fingers fidget as though blood were now flooding his veins, causing his arms to spasm. Slowly, he began to peal a layer of tape. When he reached the final layer, he was extremely careful, knowing how painful it must be. He’d had the experience of having his eyebrows waxed before, but this was completely different.
As soon as the tape was removed, the boy coughed out what appeared to be rolled up cloth. The boy gasped, taking in a deep breath from his mouth. This time he sobbed openly and freely, without being constrained.
Villa allowed him to cry, saying nothing. He slowly pealed the sheet from his waist until the boy was completely free. It was then he noticed that his ankles had been bounded as well.
“What the hell was Fernando thinking?” he cursed angrily, cutting the cords that bound the boy’s ankles.
He watched how every time the boy would move, he would groan out in pain. This confused Villa. He had not been tied up so long that he should have this reaction, but the welts on his wrists and ankles were proof that this young man had been bound longer than he realized. He got up from the floor and made his way to old fashioned porcelain, silver studded telephone. Pressing a button, he waited for a reply.
“Hi, yes. This is David Villa from suite 7, I’d like to talk to Leila.” He paused, waiting for a response.
“No, I need to speak to her now.” Villa’s tone became terse.
“That is none of my concern... Thank you. Ah yes, hello Leila. No I’m perfectly fine. Would you mind telling me something? How long ago did you throw in the young man tied up, muffled, and wrapped up in a sheet? No I did not find it at all amusing,” he said in a darker tone.
“What...? Excuse me? Can you repeat that? TWO HOURS!!!” He cried in disbelief.
“HAVE YOU GONE MAD!? What are you talking about!? No, I fell asleep damn you! Do you have any idea what would have happened if he stayed like that for another minute? Leila...if you hang up on me I swear I’ll...Damn!!!” He replaced the receiver back onto its slot and slapped his palm against the wall.
He turned, looking down at the floor where the young man lay motionless, no longer sobbing, but breathing thickly through his mouth. A tiny needle seemed to have pricked his heart then.
Poor kid...what could have landed him in this pathetic situation? he shook his head and sighed. He knew this birthday was going to be a disaster, but at least it wasn’t as bad as he had dreaded. He walked toward the listless body and crouched down on his heel.
“Are you alright?” he asked flatly, neither concern nor annoyance lacing his tone.
The young man cracked a puffy eye for a moment, scanning Villa, and then closed it again.
“Leave me alone.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” the young man snapped through a hiccough.
“Listen, I know you probably feel like thousands of needles are pricking your arms right now, having your wrists tied behind your back for two hours and lying on the floor...”
“Go away!”
“Fine, but I suggest...” Whatever Villa was about to say was cut short by a deadening glare. He would have fallen back had he not balanced himself with his hand.
“I said...GO AWAY!”
Villa scoffed. Why is it that every time he felt generous enough to help a person in need, he received rebuffs instead of gratitude? He got up, placing a foot on both sides of the boy and hauled the young man up by his armpits.
He half carried and half dragged the boy, who amazingly did not protest, to the bed. Laying the boy on his stomach instead of his back.
“Your arms must have fallen asleep. I’m going to massage them to get your circulations working again.”
Once his hands clamped down on the boy’s arm, he groaned, muffling the pain through bitten sheets. He began to cry again, sobbing profusely.
“They’re all going to die for this...” he cried. “I’ll kill them all...especially Cesc.”
‘Such impassioned words’. Villa thought. ‘Don’t worry. Once we get out of this, I have an idea who one of those you plan to kill might be.’