The nothing I've become
Title: Come Undone
Author: Greenleaf
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is fiction. I make no money with it and remain a poor student
Beta read by: The glorious, awesome sylvanelfqueen
Warnings: Drug abuse, prostitution, dark themes
Feedback: You know Gollum loved the One Ring, right? That is nothing against my love for feedback :D So please give it to me
Summary: One fateful day in Wellington two worlds collide. A boy who had been living on the streets, and an actor who never had to worry about tomorrow. But there are secrets hidden in the shadow, challenging both of them.
Chapter Two - The nothing I’ve become
When Atti arrived back at the hall, his eyes immediately darted through the room, searching for Orlando. He spotted the younger man in one corner, a blanket wrapped around himself, still shivering.
“Orli?” Atti’s tone was calmer now. He slowly approached the shivering form. When he saw the stains of red on the floor around Orlando, the already familiar ill feeling kicked in.
“Orli?!” Atti kneeled beside Orlando and pulled him into his arms. It was then that he realized the tears on the pale cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Atti…I’m sorry, really.” Orlando’s voice was hoarse and nothing more than a faint whisper.
“It’s alright lil’ one.” Atti tried to smile although he felt like crying too. He hated it when this happened; he hated to see Orlando hurt, to see him so helpless, and struggling.
“It’s alright…let me take care of this.” Atti reached for the first aid kit he always kept on hand. Orlando just sat there and stared at the ground. The brown eyes were nearly black and veiled with tears, messy dark curls partly covering his face.
“I don’t want him to pity me.”
Atti looked up for a few seconds before he continued to clean away the blood on Orlando’s arm.
“Who?”
“That Viggo guy. I don’t want him to pity me. I’m not some weak child or his good deed of the day.” Orlando sniffled, wiping away the tears with the hem of his jumper.
“You sure he just pities you?” Atti tried to sound neutral. For his liking, this Viggo seemed nice, but he knew too well that it was not easy to talk to Orlando when he was in a mood like that.
“Of course. Why do people always pity me, or want to use me? Why is there no one but you that sees me as a person? He…he was right. I’m n-not worthy to be loved.”
Atti felt his heart tighten. The cut on Orlando’s forearm was deep and the metallic smell of blood in the air made him sick.
“Don’t talk like that, Lando. Don’t get yourself down because of such things. It won’t always be like this, you know? Why don’t you give Viggo a chance?”
“Because he is just like the others, don’t you see that?! He’s looking at me like all the others. ‘Oh see that boy over there? What a pity. He’s so young and already an addict and a whore. Shouldn’t we help him and show the world what great people we are? But don’t let our children get near him, he is a bad influence. He really shouldn’t run around like that.’ He is just like them, Atti. For them, I am nothing more than a piece of trash they want to get rid off, throw it into the garbage dump so that it won’t lie around in the streets anymore, soiling their beautiful city.”
“So what? What does it matter what they say or think? You didn’t care before, so why do you now? You know that you are more than a piece of trash and I know it too.” Atti bandaged Orlando’s forearm while he spoke. The bleeding didn’t stop and he really hoped that the wound wouldn’t get infected. Orlando continued to stare at the floor.
Why did it matter to him? Because what Viggo thought mattered? He hardly knew the man! It didn’t matter…no, he didn’t want Viggo to like him. He really didn’t. Surely the drugs were to blame for those stupid thoughts.
Orlando briefly closed his eyes, doziness washing over him. He was so exhausted, the pulsating pain in his forearm calming him in a bizarre way. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he let himself be pulled into a warm embrace.
“Come lil’ one. Sleep a bit.” Atti moved behind Orlando so that the brunette’s back was leaning against his chest and rearranged the blanket before he gathered the thin form in his arms.
“Just sleep.” Atti studied Orlando’s face while the younger one seemed to slowly fall asleep. When he would awake, the drugs would hopefully be out of his system. When Orlando was in a bad mood and took drugs the high didn’t do him any good but made him fall even deeper into despair. Atti rested his head on Orlando’s shoulder.
“Maybe you should give him a chance you know? He seems honest to me.” Atti murmured lowly, knowing that his words would not be heard.
~*~*~
Viggo sat on the bench for a few more minutes after Atti had left. He just couldn’t find a reason why Orlando had behaved so differently. All of this made no sense. Since when did he care for random street kids anyway? With a frustrated groan Viggo finally stood up and walked back to his car. He had to be on set in an hour so he would have to delay his thoughts until the evening.
Not too much later Viggo found that this was not possible. He couldn’t banish Orlando from his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate on something else nor turn into Aragorn. Normally it was so easy to adapt the character of Aragorn completely, transform into him for some hours and shut the real world out, but today the picture of Orlando would not vanish. On top of that all he didn’t even understand it! He had only talked a bit to the boy, so why was he already so fond of him? He was a hooker and junkie after all and hadn’t wanted to talk to Viggo. But Viggo didn’t even try to banish him from his thoughts or calm himself with deciding that he would not see Orlando again; he knew that he was going to see the young man again as soon as possible.
~*~*~
Viggo found out soon that seeing Orlando didn’t mean talking to Orlando. He had been in town whenever possible, even spotted the young man a few times but Orlando refused to talk to him. Whether he disappeared before Viggo could reach him or he told the Dane that he didn’t need any help and walked away, ignoring Viggo. It was frustrating, really. Still, Viggo didn’t want to give up on the young man who had touched something inside him he already thought was lost. Atti flashed him a smile now and then when he was near, and in a sudden impulse Viggo had given him his phone number, just in case. He had the bad feeling that someday something would happen to Orlando. More than one time the Brit had been drunk or high when he had spoken with him, but not even that could drive Viggo away. It was pathetic; he didn’t know Orlando at all and still cared a great deal about him, kept trying no matter how often he got rejected. Something inside him told him to hold on. He could feel some sort of connection although he could not place where it came from. It was simply there and Viggo had stopped questioning it.
~*~*~
Orlando shivered and wrapped his arms tighter around his body. The wind was ice cold and going through and through. Tonight he had no alcohol or drugs to numb himself. Atti was out to speak with one of the dealers. New designer drugs were flooding the market and they got them very cheap. Neither of them cared that they were dangerous; they had nothing to loose. Right now Orlando would’ve taken anything. It was freezing cold and he was standing there just in his shirt, hot pants, and boots. Otherwise, he wouldn’t get any customers. Even if he could’ve dressed warmer, it wouldn’t have mattered. The winter was coming and Orlando was constantly freezing, and constantly had a cold at this time of the year. The nights were the worst; first walking the streets, in dressed as good as nothing, and afterwards wrapping into a blanket, trying to get warm in a cold hall, where the cold crept through the broken windows. In these times the most precious thing was some money to buy hot tea and sit in a coffee shop for some time to warm up a little.
Orlando often watched the people, wondering how it would be to lead an ordinary life. He had never really had a home. At least he could barely remember it. His childhood had been happy, but the day his mother died had been the day he had not only lost the one person who had loved him, but also his home. The house where he had lived with his stepfather had never been home to him. It had been a prison, holding memories of torture, and chilling his blood as soon as he stepped through the door, hoping that his stepfather wasn’t home yet.
Orlando shook his head in order to get rid of those memories. They made the shivers racking his body worse. He tried to think of something pleasant, and all of a sudden Viggo’s face appeared before his inner eye. Orlando groaned in frustration. Not even now did the man stop bothering him. He didn’t hate Viggo, far from it; he just couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone anymore. He had been let down too often, his heart had been shattered to many times. Sometimes Orlando thought that the shards were already so flimsy that he couldn’t put them back into place. No amount of glue would help to keep them together.
When a tall man approached him Orlando looked up, trying to straighten his face. He tried never to show any emotion before a john. He didn’t want to feel even more vulnerable; it was enough that he was used by them.
The man’s eyes wandered Orlando from head to toe before he took the youth’s hands and pulled them away from the shivering body, inspecting him more closely. A satisfied smile appeared on his face. Orlando nearly retched. He felt like a piece of meat.
“I’ll give you 200 bucks, kid.”
Orlando’s eyes widened for a moment. 200 dollars! That was more than he normally made in a week. Orlando inspected the man now precisely, a frown appearing on his face.
“200 for what?” First Orlando had been overwhelmed by the amount of money, but with each passing second his scepticism grew and an alarm seemed to ring in the back of his head.
The man grinned, still holding Orlando’s wrists.
“200 bucks for a fuck. I like it…a little bit rough, so see it as a bonus on what you charge normally.”
Orlando swallowed. ‘A little bit rough’ was something he could deal with, but somehow he didn’t trust this guy. On the other hand, 200 bucks was tempting. Orlando bit his bottom lip and struggled with himself for some seconds, before he finally nodded, ignoring the ringing alarm bell.
“Alright.” Orlando felt his throat tighten. He had withstood so many things, so he would withstand this. He just wished that he had something to make this more endurable. Drugs, alcohol, anything. But at the moment, he hadn’t even a single dollar left, and his growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten for more than two days either. If this man would really pay him 200 dollars, he would be able to buy something to eat for Atti and himself, and some drugs.
The man kept a firm hold on one of Orlando’s wrists, and pulled him hastily into one of the dimly lit side streets, excitement flooding his body.
Orlando tripped several times, but the man didn’t stop and pulled him farther into the street. Orlando was busy with keeping his balance so he didn’t notice. The sound of the high heels on the street vibrated from the narrow walls of the street.
The man turned around a corner before he finally stopped. Orlando couldn’t even catch his breath before he was shoved against the hard wall. He whimpered slightly when the back of his head connected with the stone and black spots danced before his eyes for a few seconds. The man had taken hold of his wrists again and pushed them against the wall next to Orlando’s head. His own body was pressed against the shivering frame of Orlando. The brunette could feel the erected member pressing against his belly. The feeling of uneasiness increased, wrapped around Orlando like a fist of steel. He closed his eyes, wanting this to be over. He tried to distract himself and thought what he would buy with the money.
Orlando’s eyes snapped open and a surprised cry left his dry lips when the man bit into the soft skin between his neck and shoulder. He was so distraught by the unexpected pain, that he didn’t notice the man holding his wrists above his head with one hand, and binding them together with the other.
“W-what are y-you d-doing?” Orlando found his voice again, but it was shaking just like his body.
“Don’t worry about it, whore.” The man’s hot breath ghosted over Orlando’s cheek before his lips found the soft skin.
“You’re all the same, so I am just giving you what you are all begging for.”
Orlando swallowed hard, holding onto the last bit of courage tightly.
“I am begging for nothing.”
The man laughed coldly and the sound echoed from the high walls of the street. Orlando’s blood seemed to freeze and the laugh sent a shiver down his spine.
“Sure you are, my dear. You will just get what you deserve. You’d do anything for money, wouldn’t you?”
While he spoke, the man took a knife out of his pocket and sliced Orlando’s shirt open. His upper body was exposed to the icing wind, but Orlando didn’t care for the cold anymore. His breathing hitched when the blade of the knife cut through his skin and a small trail of blood trickled over his belly. The warmth of his own blood against the cold skin made Orlando’s stomach turn. The knife had only gashed open a bit of skin on his chest, but hot pained bolted through Orlando’s body like a flash of lightening.
“Now look at that.” The man’s finger stroked over the inside of Orlando’s right forearm, tracing the fine scars and healing cuts. His other hand still held Orlando’s arms over his head.
“Well, no worries then. You don’t seem to have problem with…a little blood.”
Orlando didn’t have to look at the man; he could hear that he was grinning from the tone of his voice. He wanted to jerk away but had no chance. The fingers on his arms made him tremble. This was nothing a psycho like this guy should see. It was his own bar code; it showed weakness and meant relief all the same.
“I-“ Orlando cleared his throat because his voice gave away.
“I DO have a problem w-with blood. A-and unbind my hands.” The Brit tried to sound confident and imperative but failed completely. His voice was shaking and he could barely hold back the tears. There was no way to escape. They were too far in one of the side streets. No one would hear him, and even if, no one would come to help him because no one would care. He would be one of many others, a nameless face in the crowd.
“I’m sorry love, but I can’t do that.” The man smirked before he finally let go off Orlando’s still bound hands and placed some kisses on the bare chest.
Orlando’s bound hands were pressed against his body and he could feel the man’s teeth scraping over his skin, biting down now and then, leaving a numb pain. Orlando’s head lulled back against the wall and he bit his lower lip. He didn’t want to give this pervert the satisfaction of hearing him cry and scream.
Time seemed to blur, seconds flowing into minutes. How long Orlando stood like that, he couldn’t tell. Pain and despair flashed through his body in a constant, almost calming rhythm. Blood covered several parts of his body, and he had bitten down on his bottom lip so hard, that blood was running down his chin.
What had seemed like an eternity for Orlando had only been a few minutes. In those few minutes, the man had managed to cover Orlando’s body in bruises and scratches. The muffled cries of pain only encouraged and aroused him. His breathing became heavier and his hands started to shake in anticipation. When he thought that he couldn’t resists any longer, he turned Orlando around, pressed the body of the boy against the wall. The rough stones of the wall scratched over Orlando’s cheek, leaving fine, red trails. Orlando kept his eyes shot tightly, while white and red flashed before his inner eye, caused by the throbbing pain in his forehead. Through the pain, he could barely feel the man pulling down his hot pants, or the greedy hands on his body.
Orlando couldn’t suppress a cry of pain anymore, when a hot sting crept up his spine, setting his body on fire. The man had entered him, and despite the fact that Orlando had prepared himself earlier, the pain was overwhelming. His scream echoed from the walls and sounded odd in his own ears. One little part of Orlando’s brain that wasn’t twitching under the torture reminded him that the man was not wearing a condom. It didn’t matter now, Orlando thought. He wasn’t getting out of this anyways, so who cared for any diseases? Right now, he just wanted to die. His body was pulsing in hot, blinding pain.
Tortured moans escaped Orlando more frequently as he was shoved harder against the wall with each trust, feeling as if he would be crashed under the weight and force of the man soon. Orlando couldn’t move his bound hands but his fingernails dug into his palms, leaving red bruises. He had no way of steadying himself, so Orlando was slightly swaying and would’ve collapsed onto the ground, hadn’t he been between the wall and the man’s body. Without realizing it, Orlando was pleading for the man to stop. It only seemed to increase the force of the thrusts.
“You talk too much.” The man grasped Orlando’s throat with one hand and steadied himself with the other. Orlando felt the fingers around his throat tighten and soon he wasn’t able to breathe anymore, gasping for air. His head was swimming and he felt light-headed. Then everything went black.
TBC
Author: Greenleaf
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is fiction. I make no money with it and remain a poor student
Beta read by: The glorious, awesome sylvanelfqueen
Warnings: Drug abuse, prostitution, dark themes
Feedback: You know Gollum loved the One Ring, right? That is nothing against my love for feedback :D So please give it to me
Summary: One fateful day in Wellington two worlds collide. A boy who had been living on the streets, and an actor who never had to worry about tomorrow. But there are secrets hidden in the shadow, challenging both of them.
Chapter Two - The nothing I’ve become
When Atti arrived back at the hall, his eyes immediately darted through the room, searching for Orlando. He spotted the younger man in one corner, a blanket wrapped around himself, still shivering.
“Orli?” Atti’s tone was calmer now. He slowly approached the shivering form. When he saw the stains of red on the floor around Orlando, the already familiar ill feeling kicked in.
“Orli?!” Atti kneeled beside Orlando and pulled him into his arms. It was then that he realized the tears on the pale cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Atti…I’m sorry, really.” Orlando’s voice was hoarse and nothing more than a faint whisper.
“It’s alright lil’ one.” Atti tried to smile although he felt like crying too. He hated it when this happened; he hated to see Orlando hurt, to see him so helpless, and struggling.
“It’s alright…let me take care of this.” Atti reached for the first aid kit he always kept on hand. Orlando just sat there and stared at the ground. The brown eyes were nearly black and veiled with tears, messy dark curls partly covering his face.
“I don’t want him to pity me.”
Atti looked up for a few seconds before he continued to clean away the blood on Orlando’s arm.
“Who?”
“That Viggo guy. I don’t want him to pity me. I’m not some weak child or his good deed of the day.” Orlando sniffled, wiping away the tears with the hem of his jumper.
“You sure he just pities you?” Atti tried to sound neutral. For his liking, this Viggo seemed nice, but he knew too well that it was not easy to talk to Orlando when he was in a mood like that.
“Of course. Why do people always pity me, or want to use me? Why is there no one but you that sees me as a person? He…he was right. I’m n-not worthy to be loved.”
Atti felt his heart tighten. The cut on Orlando’s forearm was deep and the metallic smell of blood in the air made him sick.
“Don’t talk like that, Lando. Don’t get yourself down because of such things. It won’t always be like this, you know? Why don’t you give Viggo a chance?”
“Because he is just like the others, don’t you see that?! He’s looking at me like all the others. ‘Oh see that boy over there? What a pity. He’s so young and already an addict and a whore. Shouldn’t we help him and show the world what great people we are? But don’t let our children get near him, he is a bad influence. He really shouldn’t run around like that.’ He is just like them, Atti. For them, I am nothing more than a piece of trash they want to get rid off, throw it into the garbage dump so that it won’t lie around in the streets anymore, soiling their beautiful city.”
“So what? What does it matter what they say or think? You didn’t care before, so why do you now? You know that you are more than a piece of trash and I know it too.” Atti bandaged Orlando’s forearm while he spoke. The bleeding didn’t stop and he really hoped that the wound wouldn’t get infected. Orlando continued to stare at the floor.
Why did it matter to him? Because what Viggo thought mattered? He hardly knew the man! It didn’t matter…no, he didn’t want Viggo to like him. He really didn’t. Surely the drugs were to blame for those stupid thoughts.
Orlando briefly closed his eyes, doziness washing over him. He was so exhausted, the pulsating pain in his forearm calming him in a bizarre way. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he let himself be pulled into a warm embrace.
“Come lil’ one. Sleep a bit.” Atti moved behind Orlando so that the brunette’s back was leaning against his chest and rearranged the blanket before he gathered the thin form in his arms.
“Just sleep.” Atti studied Orlando’s face while the younger one seemed to slowly fall asleep. When he would awake, the drugs would hopefully be out of his system. When Orlando was in a bad mood and took drugs the high didn’t do him any good but made him fall even deeper into despair. Atti rested his head on Orlando’s shoulder.
“Maybe you should give him a chance you know? He seems honest to me.” Atti murmured lowly, knowing that his words would not be heard.
~*~*~
Viggo sat on the bench for a few more minutes after Atti had left. He just couldn’t find a reason why Orlando had behaved so differently. All of this made no sense. Since when did he care for random street kids anyway? With a frustrated groan Viggo finally stood up and walked back to his car. He had to be on set in an hour so he would have to delay his thoughts until the evening.
Not too much later Viggo found that this was not possible. He couldn’t banish Orlando from his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t concentrate on something else nor turn into Aragorn. Normally it was so easy to adapt the character of Aragorn completely, transform into him for some hours and shut the real world out, but today the picture of Orlando would not vanish. On top of that all he didn’t even understand it! He had only talked a bit to the boy, so why was he already so fond of him? He was a hooker and junkie after all and hadn’t wanted to talk to Viggo. But Viggo didn’t even try to banish him from his thoughts or calm himself with deciding that he would not see Orlando again; he knew that he was going to see the young man again as soon as possible.
~*~*~
Viggo found out soon that seeing Orlando didn’t mean talking to Orlando. He had been in town whenever possible, even spotted the young man a few times but Orlando refused to talk to him. Whether he disappeared before Viggo could reach him or he told the Dane that he didn’t need any help and walked away, ignoring Viggo. It was frustrating, really. Still, Viggo didn’t want to give up on the young man who had touched something inside him he already thought was lost. Atti flashed him a smile now and then when he was near, and in a sudden impulse Viggo had given him his phone number, just in case. He had the bad feeling that someday something would happen to Orlando. More than one time the Brit had been drunk or high when he had spoken with him, but not even that could drive Viggo away. It was pathetic; he didn’t know Orlando at all and still cared a great deal about him, kept trying no matter how often he got rejected. Something inside him told him to hold on. He could feel some sort of connection although he could not place where it came from. It was simply there and Viggo had stopped questioning it.
~*~*~
Orlando shivered and wrapped his arms tighter around his body. The wind was ice cold and going through and through. Tonight he had no alcohol or drugs to numb himself. Atti was out to speak with one of the dealers. New designer drugs were flooding the market and they got them very cheap. Neither of them cared that they were dangerous; they had nothing to loose. Right now Orlando would’ve taken anything. It was freezing cold and he was standing there just in his shirt, hot pants, and boots. Otherwise, he wouldn’t get any customers. Even if he could’ve dressed warmer, it wouldn’t have mattered. The winter was coming and Orlando was constantly freezing, and constantly had a cold at this time of the year. The nights were the worst; first walking the streets, in dressed as good as nothing, and afterwards wrapping into a blanket, trying to get warm in a cold hall, where the cold crept through the broken windows. In these times the most precious thing was some money to buy hot tea and sit in a coffee shop for some time to warm up a little.
Orlando often watched the people, wondering how it would be to lead an ordinary life. He had never really had a home. At least he could barely remember it. His childhood had been happy, but the day his mother died had been the day he had not only lost the one person who had loved him, but also his home. The house where he had lived with his stepfather had never been home to him. It had been a prison, holding memories of torture, and chilling his blood as soon as he stepped through the door, hoping that his stepfather wasn’t home yet.
Orlando shook his head in order to get rid of those memories. They made the shivers racking his body worse. He tried to think of something pleasant, and all of a sudden Viggo’s face appeared before his inner eye. Orlando groaned in frustration. Not even now did the man stop bothering him. He didn’t hate Viggo, far from it; he just couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone anymore. He had been let down too often, his heart had been shattered to many times. Sometimes Orlando thought that the shards were already so flimsy that he couldn’t put them back into place. No amount of glue would help to keep them together.
When a tall man approached him Orlando looked up, trying to straighten his face. He tried never to show any emotion before a john. He didn’t want to feel even more vulnerable; it was enough that he was used by them.
The man’s eyes wandered Orlando from head to toe before he took the youth’s hands and pulled them away from the shivering body, inspecting him more closely. A satisfied smile appeared on his face. Orlando nearly retched. He felt like a piece of meat.
“I’ll give you 200 bucks, kid.”
Orlando’s eyes widened for a moment. 200 dollars! That was more than he normally made in a week. Orlando inspected the man now precisely, a frown appearing on his face.
“200 for what?” First Orlando had been overwhelmed by the amount of money, but with each passing second his scepticism grew and an alarm seemed to ring in the back of his head.
The man grinned, still holding Orlando’s wrists.
“200 bucks for a fuck. I like it…a little bit rough, so see it as a bonus on what you charge normally.”
Orlando swallowed. ‘A little bit rough’ was something he could deal with, but somehow he didn’t trust this guy. On the other hand, 200 bucks was tempting. Orlando bit his bottom lip and struggled with himself for some seconds, before he finally nodded, ignoring the ringing alarm bell.
“Alright.” Orlando felt his throat tighten. He had withstood so many things, so he would withstand this. He just wished that he had something to make this more endurable. Drugs, alcohol, anything. But at the moment, he hadn’t even a single dollar left, and his growling stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten for more than two days either. If this man would really pay him 200 dollars, he would be able to buy something to eat for Atti and himself, and some drugs.
The man kept a firm hold on one of Orlando’s wrists, and pulled him hastily into one of the dimly lit side streets, excitement flooding his body.
Orlando tripped several times, but the man didn’t stop and pulled him farther into the street. Orlando was busy with keeping his balance so he didn’t notice. The sound of the high heels on the street vibrated from the narrow walls of the street.
The man turned around a corner before he finally stopped. Orlando couldn’t even catch his breath before he was shoved against the hard wall. He whimpered slightly when the back of his head connected with the stone and black spots danced before his eyes for a few seconds. The man had taken hold of his wrists again and pushed them against the wall next to Orlando’s head. His own body was pressed against the shivering frame of Orlando. The brunette could feel the erected member pressing against his belly. The feeling of uneasiness increased, wrapped around Orlando like a fist of steel. He closed his eyes, wanting this to be over. He tried to distract himself and thought what he would buy with the money.
Orlando’s eyes snapped open and a surprised cry left his dry lips when the man bit into the soft skin between his neck and shoulder. He was so distraught by the unexpected pain, that he didn’t notice the man holding his wrists above his head with one hand, and binding them together with the other.
“W-what are y-you d-doing?” Orlando found his voice again, but it was shaking just like his body.
“Don’t worry about it, whore.” The man’s hot breath ghosted over Orlando’s cheek before his lips found the soft skin.
“You’re all the same, so I am just giving you what you are all begging for.”
Orlando swallowed hard, holding onto the last bit of courage tightly.
“I am begging for nothing.”
The man laughed coldly and the sound echoed from the high walls of the street. Orlando’s blood seemed to freeze and the laugh sent a shiver down his spine.
“Sure you are, my dear. You will just get what you deserve. You’d do anything for money, wouldn’t you?”
While he spoke, the man took a knife out of his pocket and sliced Orlando’s shirt open. His upper body was exposed to the icing wind, but Orlando didn’t care for the cold anymore. His breathing hitched when the blade of the knife cut through his skin and a small trail of blood trickled over his belly. The warmth of his own blood against the cold skin made Orlando’s stomach turn. The knife had only gashed open a bit of skin on his chest, but hot pained bolted through Orlando’s body like a flash of lightening.
“Now look at that.” The man’s finger stroked over the inside of Orlando’s right forearm, tracing the fine scars and healing cuts. His other hand still held Orlando’s arms over his head.
“Well, no worries then. You don’t seem to have problem with…a little blood.”
Orlando didn’t have to look at the man; he could hear that he was grinning from the tone of his voice. He wanted to jerk away but had no chance. The fingers on his arms made him tremble. This was nothing a psycho like this guy should see. It was his own bar code; it showed weakness and meant relief all the same.
“I-“ Orlando cleared his throat because his voice gave away.
“I DO have a problem w-with blood. A-and unbind my hands.” The Brit tried to sound confident and imperative but failed completely. His voice was shaking and he could barely hold back the tears. There was no way to escape. They were too far in one of the side streets. No one would hear him, and even if, no one would come to help him because no one would care. He would be one of many others, a nameless face in the crowd.
“I’m sorry love, but I can’t do that.” The man smirked before he finally let go off Orlando’s still bound hands and placed some kisses on the bare chest.
Orlando’s bound hands were pressed against his body and he could feel the man’s teeth scraping over his skin, biting down now and then, leaving a numb pain. Orlando’s head lulled back against the wall and he bit his lower lip. He didn’t want to give this pervert the satisfaction of hearing him cry and scream.
Time seemed to blur, seconds flowing into minutes. How long Orlando stood like that, he couldn’t tell. Pain and despair flashed through his body in a constant, almost calming rhythm. Blood covered several parts of his body, and he had bitten down on his bottom lip so hard, that blood was running down his chin.
What had seemed like an eternity for Orlando had only been a few minutes. In those few minutes, the man had managed to cover Orlando’s body in bruises and scratches. The muffled cries of pain only encouraged and aroused him. His breathing became heavier and his hands started to shake in anticipation. When he thought that he couldn’t resists any longer, he turned Orlando around, pressed the body of the boy against the wall. The rough stones of the wall scratched over Orlando’s cheek, leaving fine, red trails. Orlando kept his eyes shot tightly, while white and red flashed before his inner eye, caused by the throbbing pain in his forehead. Through the pain, he could barely feel the man pulling down his hot pants, or the greedy hands on his body.
Orlando couldn’t suppress a cry of pain anymore, when a hot sting crept up his spine, setting his body on fire. The man had entered him, and despite the fact that Orlando had prepared himself earlier, the pain was overwhelming. His scream echoed from the walls and sounded odd in his own ears. One little part of Orlando’s brain that wasn’t twitching under the torture reminded him that the man was not wearing a condom. It didn’t matter now, Orlando thought. He wasn’t getting out of this anyways, so who cared for any diseases? Right now, he just wanted to die. His body was pulsing in hot, blinding pain.
Tortured moans escaped Orlando more frequently as he was shoved harder against the wall with each trust, feeling as if he would be crashed under the weight and force of the man soon. Orlando couldn’t move his bound hands but his fingernails dug into his palms, leaving red bruises. He had no way of steadying himself, so Orlando was slightly swaying and would’ve collapsed onto the ground, hadn’t he been between the wall and the man’s body. Without realizing it, Orlando was pleading for the man to stop. It only seemed to increase the force of the thrusts.
“You talk too much.” The man grasped Orlando’s throat with one hand and steadied himself with the other. Orlando felt the fingers around his throat tighten and soon he wasn’t able to breathe anymore, gasping for air. His head was swimming and he felt light-headed. Then everything went black.
TBC