Prison Sex - HITTER
Author: kitty69lover
Rating: NC-17
Category: drama
Characters: Bojan Krkic / Xavi Hernandez
Length: hitter
Summary: Bojan is the new inmate. lucky him it's Xavi that takes him under his wing.
Disclaimer: initially only in my head; too much to contain it all, so it spilled on the webpage....
Authors Notes: mostly inspired by Tool's song of the same name: lyrics here, but written in a more redeeming manner, especially using the paragraph in the brackets that doesn't actually appear in the song version i have in winamp. [wtf!]
Also, this was written for footballverse's fantasy challenge :-)
The moment the boy was released in the yard by the guards, Xavi became interested. The boy looked so young, devastatingly young and innocent. And yet, he wasn't, since he had been sent to a proper prison not something for the young delinquents.
There was something so startling about the boy that walked towards the middle of the courtyard with his head down. Xavi knew the very instance the boy looked up and he caught his green eyes that he would have to protect him. A boy like him would become easy prey. So Xavi strode towards him, eying the others that were beginning to gather around the newbie, like vultures.
Bojan looked at them, without really seeing anyone. They were a mass of bigger bodies, harder than his, that would want to abuse him. He knew that was his fate, it had been so ever since he could remember. Be it sexually or otherwise, he always got the short end of the stick. Whenever he made it in a new medium, he'd have to drown their voices arguing over him, over his young supple body.
Somehow, he didn't succeed this time. Two seemed to have the dominant role, a big built, burly man with a mop of curly hair and a shorter one, brunette. The brunette older man had a very polite and quiet tone and held his ground surprisingly well for someone his size, especially given his competition.
At a first glance, anyone would've preferred the brunette, not the caveman that was now shouting. But Bojan didn't really care. As far as he was concerned, they were all the same and would to the same thing to him. And the quiet man could've been a pervert, something extroverted folk like the caveman usually weren't.
His thoughts stopped when he realised everyone had left, going back to their business and the man that informed him his name was Xavi was caressing his cheek. Bojan nodded and allowed the older man to guide him towards the benches.
Xavi was feeling like a child on Christmas day, barely resisting from tearing the wrapper and unveil the presents. The young boy, whose foreign name - Bojan - sounded like a promise in itself, was absolutely delectable. Beautiful, and strangely sad, with a genuine innocence in the huge green eyes. He was incredibly pleased that he had managed to save the boy from the cruel fate he would've had in Puyol's hands.
For the time they were outside, Xavi merely contented himself to look at Bojan, to study him, to scan him and to simply try to guess from the boy’s scarce words and gestures everything there was to know about him. He wanted to take his time with him, to get to really know him, before he even dared touch him.
He wanted to listen to his breath and his life story before the smallest of kisses. Bojan's youth and general air of innocence made him want to protect him, to cradle him, to give him the tenderness the prison walls usually stole from inmates' caresses.
He wanted to offer the youngster something genuine and heartfelt.
The man seemed to be kind and polite, but Bojan knew that’s how they all acted, upon first seeing him, he knew his looks affected people, making them somehow submissive. But he also knew that once they were in the cell, locked up for the night and the guards called lights out, the monsters embedded in said men came to life.
Eventually they all wanted the same thing, to have him on his knees, sucking or to have him on all fours, taking it up the ass. There was no doubt over their intentions, from the very start. So when the night fell and the prison went shifty quiet, Bojan awaited, a move from the older man.
He only had one desire, to not be taken by surprise. He had learned to anticipate and guess their moves before they even happened and now his wait was long, because Xavi seemed to have drifted to sleep the moment he put his head on the pillow.
And the next night, the same, as if Xavi had made a vow to not touch him until something happened. And all that silence. All the silence between them that filled Bojan's soul with both fear and peacefulness.
On the third night, he found himself talking, hushed, into the darkness.
Telling Xavi about everything, about his first juvenile detention center, and how he was raped by the guards, how he was spitroasted when he was young enough to legitimately be their son, how his looks, his intricate beauty was torture and only made him extremely desirable. He found himself talking about all the men that left a mark, a mark so deep it had been etched in this soul, a mark he could not wash away, as it had sunk deeper than flesh level.
And seeing that the older man kept to himself, Bojan grew courageous, or entirely stupid and went on saying that Xavi shouldn’t beat around the bush anymore and try to form some sort of twisted friendship before he got down to business, because there was no need and he knew very well what was asked of him and that whatever Xavi was trying to prepare him for, he was ready, as it couldn't have been worse than what he had already been through. How he did not really care about what happened to him.
And Xavi listened and he cried, silently he cried for the beautiful boy that had never experienced any sort of tenderness, that had never been given anything in his life, little less a choice, and had only had his innocence taken from him, and vowed to offer him love, real feelings and to teach him how it could be suave and delightful, not just brutal and hurtful. Xavi was falling, completely captivated.
He only replied the next night, after a whole day of thinking how to get the jaded boy to believe him, to understand he was not bullshitting him, that he was indeed touched by his story and wanted to protect him more than anything, and if possible, if Bojan wanted, to offer him some love, a new perspective in life.
And so when the lights went out on the fourth day, it was Xavi's turn to speak and so he told Bojan everything that had built up in him since he had been incarcerated, how he too had to adapt and how much of an ignorant he was and how much had he learned and could learn still from someone younger.
And he told him he would never do anything without Bojan's consent and that he would do anything, anything at all, to mend the bruises in his prematurely aged soul. And Bojan listened and even if he said nothing, something had stirred in him, as if he still had genuine belief in the goodness of people in a deep dark corner of his heart.
On the fifth day, Bojan told Xavi he could climb up in his bunk. Even in the darkness, dark eyes met green ones and shaky hands touched, as gently as they could. And Xavi knew the time to show his credentials had come so he buried his head in the boy's lap and kissed and licked and sucked, learning to worship the boy he loved.
And Bojan trembled, first with anguish then with disbelief, then with pleasure and then finally, with a peculiar sense of revenge, for now he had someone at his disposal and as he had always deeply wished it was time to do unto others what had been done to him. So he pushed Xavi's head down, holding him strongly and heard the older man gag, just like he had gagged a thousand times and didn't let go until he came, until the demons were released from him in long hot spurts.
He awaited the backlash, getting punched, being pushed out of the bed, the hurt, the anger, but all he could feel was wetness on Xavi's cheeks and a hand reaching for his own, petting affectionately. Green eyes locked with dark ones, Bojan understood Xavi was different, that Xavi was willing to help him crawl back to the light, if only he wanted.
Xavi didn't even attempt to do anything that night, he merely cuddled next to the boy's body and caressing his arm, fell asleep, hoping, hopeful. And Bojan stayed awake, feeling the warm body next to him, touching him in a gentle way, touch he had not ever felt. And tears bubbled in his chest as he felt his hard built walls collapsing, his stern resistance of years and years defeated with just one small gesture.
The whole day Bojan pondered, aware at all the signs that all his past encounters had made him an expert of. But everything that usually screamed in him to beware, to be warned and to be cautious was silent now, as if Xavi's deed and the swap or roles had killed the very essence of his fear. He knew he could lean in, because he would be caught. He simply knew, just like, a hundred times before, he knew the hand will turn to fist and smash against his cheek.
And Xavi let the boy decide, if he would choose to come to him or not. He hovered around him just to protect him from the others, just to keep him safe, but if the boy would not come to him, he would not be bitter, he would not retaliate, he would only understand that some wounds were beyond curing.
He knew he had taken only a small step in gaining Bojan's forgiveness, by taking upon him all his abusers' sins and crimes, and that it would take more, a lot more to wash away all the pain lodged in his tormented soul and skin and mind.
Indelible scars are indelible, but, if allowed, he would kiss and caress them until Bojan felt them weightless on his body, until he began to accept them as part of his past, as part of him.
The night came and went, a man and a boy restless, sleepless, alone in their respective beds, wanting to reach out yet staying put, Bojan of fear to not give in too easily, Xavi aware it was not his move, it had never really been his move, as boys as beautiful and fragile in their strength were the ones that really made the rules, as soon as they understood how much power they had.
It was the seventh night that Bojan finally climbed down and crept next to Xavi in the small space of the lower bunk, his heart beating like a drum, audible in the tight cell. It was his lips that first touched Xavi's and it was his hand that first reached in the other's pants. He wanted it, he needed proof that it was all going to be just as Xavi's silence had promised. And Xavi knew it was finally time to take action, to be determined yet gentle, so very gentle.
Undressing was the hardest part, unseeing and clumsy, two bodies that didn't know each other, but once the clothes were discarded, once skin touched skin and tongue touched tongue, the ancient carnal knowledge took over and Bojan opened up, with help from slicked fingers that gently probed, almost fearfully and Xavi was allowed in, and the friction turned to pleasure, as kisses got deeper and moans louder.
Absolution came with hardened breaths, both finding salvation in one another, in their touch. The time of cruelty was over and so was the time for loneliness. Wrapped in each other as the guards went past, they both understood that flesh can be trusted and that only this one holy medium could bring each other peace of mind.
And so, on the eight day, there was a whole new world before them.
Rating: NC-17
Category: drama
Characters: Bojan Krkic / Xavi Hernandez
Length: hitter
Summary: Bojan is the new inmate. lucky him it's Xavi that takes him under his wing.
Disclaimer: initially only in my head; too much to contain it all, so it spilled on the webpage....
Authors Notes: mostly inspired by Tool's song of the same name: lyrics here, but written in a more redeeming manner, especially using the paragraph in the brackets that doesn't actually appear in the song version i have in winamp. [wtf!]
Also, this was written for footballverse's fantasy challenge :-)
The moment the boy was released in the yard by the guards, Xavi became interested. The boy looked so young, devastatingly young and innocent. And yet, he wasn't, since he had been sent to a proper prison not something for the young delinquents.
There was something so startling about the boy that walked towards the middle of the courtyard with his head down. Xavi knew the very instance the boy looked up and he caught his green eyes that he would have to protect him. A boy like him would become easy prey. So Xavi strode towards him, eying the others that were beginning to gather around the newbie, like vultures.
Bojan looked at them, without really seeing anyone. They were a mass of bigger bodies, harder than his, that would want to abuse him. He knew that was his fate, it had been so ever since he could remember. Be it sexually or otherwise, he always got the short end of the stick. Whenever he made it in a new medium, he'd have to drown their voices arguing over him, over his young supple body.
Somehow, he didn't succeed this time. Two seemed to have the dominant role, a big built, burly man with a mop of curly hair and a shorter one, brunette. The brunette older man had a very polite and quiet tone and held his ground surprisingly well for someone his size, especially given his competition.
At a first glance, anyone would've preferred the brunette, not the caveman that was now shouting. But Bojan didn't really care. As far as he was concerned, they were all the same and would to the same thing to him. And the quiet man could've been a pervert, something extroverted folk like the caveman usually weren't.
His thoughts stopped when he realised everyone had left, going back to their business and the man that informed him his name was Xavi was caressing his cheek. Bojan nodded and allowed the older man to guide him towards the benches.
Xavi was feeling like a child on Christmas day, barely resisting from tearing the wrapper and unveil the presents. The young boy, whose foreign name - Bojan - sounded like a promise in itself, was absolutely delectable. Beautiful, and strangely sad, with a genuine innocence in the huge green eyes. He was incredibly pleased that he had managed to save the boy from the cruel fate he would've had in Puyol's hands.
For the time they were outside, Xavi merely contented himself to look at Bojan, to study him, to scan him and to simply try to guess from the boy’s scarce words and gestures everything there was to know about him. He wanted to take his time with him, to get to really know him, before he even dared touch him.
He wanted to listen to his breath and his life story before the smallest of kisses. Bojan's youth and general air of innocence made him want to protect him, to cradle him, to give him the tenderness the prison walls usually stole from inmates' caresses.
He wanted to offer the youngster something genuine and heartfelt.
The man seemed to be kind and polite, but Bojan knew that’s how they all acted, upon first seeing him, he knew his looks affected people, making them somehow submissive. But he also knew that once they were in the cell, locked up for the night and the guards called lights out, the monsters embedded in said men came to life.
Eventually they all wanted the same thing, to have him on his knees, sucking or to have him on all fours, taking it up the ass. There was no doubt over their intentions, from the very start. So when the night fell and the prison went shifty quiet, Bojan awaited, a move from the older man.
He only had one desire, to not be taken by surprise. He had learned to anticipate and guess their moves before they even happened and now his wait was long, because Xavi seemed to have drifted to sleep the moment he put his head on the pillow.
And the next night, the same, as if Xavi had made a vow to not touch him until something happened. And all that silence. All the silence between them that filled Bojan's soul with both fear and peacefulness.
On the third night, he found himself talking, hushed, into the darkness.
Telling Xavi about everything, about his first juvenile detention center, and how he was raped by the guards, how he was spitroasted when he was young enough to legitimately be their son, how his looks, his intricate beauty was torture and only made him extremely desirable. He found himself talking about all the men that left a mark, a mark so deep it had been etched in this soul, a mark he could not wash away, as it had sunk deeper than flesh level.
And seeing that the older man kept to himself, Bojan grew courageous, or entirely stupid and went on saying that Xavi shouldn’t beat around the bush anymore and try to form some sort of twisted friendship before he got down to business, because there was no need and he knew very well what was asked of him and that whatever Xavi was trying to prepare him for, he was ready, as it couldn't have been worse than what he had already been through. How he did not really care about what happened to him.
And Xavi listened and he cried, silently he cried for the beautiful boy that had never experienced any sort of tenderness, that had never been given anything in his life, little less a choice, and had only had his innocence taken from him, and vowed to offer him love, real feelings and to teach him how it could be suave and delightful, not just brutal and hurtful. Xavi was falling, completely captivated.
He only replied the next night, after a whole day of thinking how to get the jaded boy to believe him, to understand he was not bullshitting him, that he was indeed touched by his story and wanted to protect him more than anything, and if possible, if Bojan wanted, to offer him some love, a new perspective in life.
And so when the lights went out on the fourth day, it was Xavi's turn to speak and so he told Bojan everything that had built up in him since he had been incarcerated, how he too had to adapt and how much of an ignorant he was and how much had he learned and could learn still from someone younger.
And he told him he would never do anything without Bojan's consent and that he would do anything, anything at all, to mend the bruises in his prematurely aged soul. And Bojan listened and even if he said nothing, something had stirred in him, as if he still had genuine belief in the goodness of people in a deep dark corner of his heart.
On the fifth day, Bojan told Xavi he could climb up in his bunk. Even in the darkness, dark eyes met green ones and shaky hands touched, as gently as they could. And Xavi knew the time to show his credentials had come so he buried his head in the boy's lap and kissed and licked and sucked, learning to worship the boy he loved.
And Bojan trembled, first with anguish then with disbelief, then with pleasure and then finally, with a peculiar sense of revenge, for now he had someone at his disposal and as he had always deeply wished it was time to do unto others what had been done to him. So he pushed Xavi's head down, holding him strongly and heard the older man gag, just like he had gagged a thousand times and didn't let go until he came, until the demons were released from him in long hot spurts.
He awaited the backlash, getting punched, being pushed out of the bed, the hurt, the anger, but all he could feel was wetness on Xavi's cheeks and a hand reaching for his own, petting affectionately. Green eyes locked with dark ones, Bojan understood Xavi was different, that Xavi was willing to help him crawl back to the light, if only he wanted.
Xavi didn't even attempt to do anything that night, he merely cuddled next to the boy's body and caressing his arm, fell asleep, hoping, hopeful. And Bojan stayed awake, feeling the warm body next to him, touching him in a gentle way, touch he had not ever felt. And tears bubbled in his chest as he felt his hard built walls collapsing, his stern resistance of years and years defeated with just one small gesture.
The whole day Bojan pondered, aware at all the signs that all his past encounters had made him an expert of. But everything that usually screamed in him to beware, to be warned and to be cautious was silent now, as if Xavi's deed and the swap or roles had killed the very essence of his fear. He knew he could lean in, because he would be caught. He simply knew, just like, a hundred times before, he knew the hand will turn to fist and smash against his cheek.
And Xavi let the boy decide, if he would choose to come to him or not. He hovered around him just to protect him from the others, just to keep him safe, but if the boy would not come to him, he would not be bitter, he would not retaliate, he would only understand that some wounds were beyond curing.
He knew he had taken only a small step in gaining Bojan's forgiveness, by taking upon him all his abusers' sins and crimes, and that it would take more, a lot more to wash away all the pain lodged in his tormented soul and skin and mind.
Indelible scars are indelible, but, if allowed, he would kiss and caress them until Bojan felt them weightless on his body, until he began to accept them as part of his past, as part of him.
The night came and went, a man and a boy restless, sleepless, alone in their respective beds, wanting to reach out yet staying put, Bojan of fear to not give in too easily, Xavi aware it was not his move, it had never really been his move, as boys as beautiful and fragile in their strength were the ones that really made the rules, as soon as they understood how much power they had.
It was the seventh night that Bojan finally climbed down and crept next to Xavi in the small space of the lower bunk, his heart beating like a drum, audible in the tight cell. It was his lips that first touched Xavi's and it was his hand that first reached in the other's pants. He wanted it, he needed proof that it was all going to be just as Xavi's silence had promised. And Xavi knew it was finally time to take action, to be determined yet gentle, so very gentle.
Undressing was the hardest part, unseeing and clumsy, two bodies that didn't know each other, but once the clothes were discarded, once skin touched skin and tongue touched tongue, the ancient carnal knowledge took over and Bojan opened up, with help from slicked fingers that gently probed, almost fearfully and Xavi was allowed in, and the friction turned to pleasure, as kisses got deeper and moans louder.
Absolution came with hardened breaths, both finding salvation in one another, in their touch. The time of cruelty was over and so was the time for loneliness. Wrapped in each other as the guards went past, they both understood that flesh can be trusted and that only this one holy medium could bring each other peace of mind.
And so, on the eight day, there was a whole new world before them.