[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 2/?
anonymous
April 26 2010, 19:58:58 UTC
“Not like this one. He wasn’t a docker or anything ‘cause he was too clean. He had big eyes and they weren’t squinty at all like my da says they are and he smelled nice and he said he never eats cats. He gave me coins too but they were funny-looking.”
“He spoke English? What did he look like?”
“He was,” the boy lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Handsome. But he was short for a grown-up. He let me touch his sleeves. I’ve never felt silk before.”
England shook his head. No, it couldn’t be. Why would he come here for any reason other than to slit England’s throat? Surely he was too polite to stage a confrontation on England’s home soil. “Where did you see him last?”
“I showed him to a place but it’s a long way…”
“There’s a sovereign in it for you.”
“Okay. Hold my hand so the others won’t think you’re free.”
England wrapped the boy’s smaller hand in his and let himself be led. It was rather like his forays with a child America, who had decided England absolutely had to see something. Except after this, this child would go back to his poverty. At least he appeared to be healthy, if a little thin. There was so much disease among the human populace here, dysentery and syphilis and influenza, not to mention the kinds of things that might happen to a little boy on the streets like this. The boy tugged England’s arm every time he appeared to slow. England saw only hints of the other children as they walked. They tended to become very good at concealing themselves.
“Mister,” the boy said. “How come you’re all dressed up and got money like a toff but you don’t sound properly like them?”
“There are more of you than there are of them,” England said.
The boy frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. You must’ve been like me and then got rich on the race horses. My da says he’s going to get rich on the race horses. Anyway, it’s through here but you’re not to tell the police, all right? Or about me neither.”
“All right, thank you.”
England handed over the sovereign. The boy clutched his hand as he tried to retract it. “I can do…” the boy lowered his eyes. “…Other things for you. For more shillings.” A slight tremble ran through his body. “With my mouth because I don’t want a sore bum.”
“No!” England said. He kneeled down in front of the boy and drew him into a hug. “Don’t offer those other things so lightly. Here.” England passed over three more sovereigns. “Don’t give that to your dad. Buy food with it and share it with your family. It should keep you going for a couple of weeks.”
The boy hugged him back and then ran off. Within a few moments, he’d completely disappeared. England straightened himself up and checked his wallet was still there. It was. He walked through the door the boy had shown him to. It led to another door via a set of wooden stairs. The damp had set in to them, making the small space stale with the scent of rotten wood. England trod carefully down them in case they buckled under his weight. He pushed on the second door, only to have someone on the other side push back. “Who are you?” the voice on the other side said.
[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 3/?
anonymous
April 26 2010, 20:01:02 UTC
“Arthur,” England said, the assumed name had served him well in the past.
“You sound a bit more refined than we’re used to around here, Arfur. ‘You a copper?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. No, I’m not a copper and you’re not making yourselves look any less suspicious with this act. Here.”
England pushed a sovereign under the gap between the door and the floor. A dirty hand scrabbled for it. “Yeah, all right.”
The door opened. England entered and slammed it shut behind him. The room was larger than he’d been expecting, compared to the other rooms in the slums. England suspected it was one of the only basements in this part of London that hadn’t had partitions put up to house six or seven families. A thick, brown smoke hung in the air but there was an uneven silhouette beyond the first couple of people that hinted at people crowded together. Dirty mattresses, probably full of lice, covered most of the floor. They spoke in soft voices so that his ears were full of murmurs rather than the boorish chatter he’d come to associate with the working class. He swayed a little from the lack of sobering, fresh air and tried not to inhale.
England looked back at the doorman. He flashed his brown teeth at him. He was sitting on his own mattress, covered in little bundles made from handkerchiefs. Sooty fingerprints had been left on the white cloth.
“You look like you’re coming down with the vapours, son,” he said. “Don’t worry, they’re clean. I douse ‘em with powder and give them a scrub down every night. You won’t catch anything. Off the mattresses anyhow. I wouldn’t recommend you go near the lasses.”
“What?”
“Go on,” the doorman threw a small handkerchief at him. England caught it. “Get on with it.”
“This is all I get for a sovereign?”
“That was a door fee and it stops me talking about a young blond and green-eyed toff with funny eyebrows in the region of yer wife and peers.”
“I see. Has a Chinese man come through here?”
“There’s a hell of a lot of Chinese in here, mate. They like their opium.”
“You’d recognise this Chinese man.”
“Ah, him wearing the emperor’s clothes, you mean? He tried to pay me with foreign money ‘cause he didn’t have anything proper. He went to try his luck around there.” England cast a couple more sovereigns onto the table. “Give me some more. As much as that will buy.”
“Well, aren’t you flush?” The doorman handed over a couple of much fuller handkerchiefs. “Don’t smoke all that at once. I won’t notice a body until it’s too late.”
“Right,” England said, absently.
He charged into the thick of the smoke. He walked through the aisles of tangled legs and tried to look around but everywhere his eyes fell, they fell on people heating spoons over candles or covering themselves in soot from pipes and puffing away with vacant eyes. Everyone here was polluting their bodies, polluting them for something worthless and transient. This is what they chose to spend their pittance of a wage on? Even though most of them were rail thin and bent-backed? England wished he could sit all his people on his knee one by one and lecture them like he’d lectured his colonies until their ears and their minds were so full of his voice they couldn’t even contemplate such stupidity. His thoughts leapt dangerously to thoughts of Korea. It wasn’t that he didn’t treat the boy well but China had treated him well too…
England found a spare mattress tucked into the corner of the room and sat. He placed the opium next to himself. No one appeared to be paying him any mind, so he crossed his legs and peered over the heads of the revellers. There was no sign of anyone familiar. He tried to concentrate on peering through the smoke but it was all too easy for his mind to wander in a room warm with body heat. He closed his eyes against the hot smoke’s assault on them and let them water beneath his eyelids. He fell back onto the mattress. Someone shook his shoulder. What? He’d barely closed his eyes.
One of the men was kneeling in front of him. A miner, England guessed. He had that familiar curvature of the back despite being young.
“Don’t sleep, mate,” he said. “You’ll get your wallet stolen or worse.”
England forced himself to sit back up. “Thanks…” England handed him a couple of shillings.
[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 4/?
anonymous
April 26 2010, 20:02:34 UTC
“Cheers.”
He disappeared back into the crowd. England rubbed at his eyes. He stared into the smoke until he was startled out of another reverie.
China strode through the smoke. His silks rippled across his body as he walked, head held high and the splits of his robe parting to reveal the trousers underneath. The others seemed to think he was an apparition. They reached languid hands up to trail across his calves and their fingers fell away. Handsome indeed. In the periphery of his mind, England must have noticed it before but it had never struck him so much as now. Perhaps because China always wore such overlarge clothes. His sleeves hid his hands and the tails of his robes brushed the floor. They hid his body from prying eyes but made the mind race with the thought of the delights underneath. China raised his sleeve and swiped it across his forehead, wiping away perspiration England had barely noticed.
Any moment now, he would see England. Any moment now.
“Oi,” one of the wastrels opposite England said.
China paused. The man offered up the end of his pipe to him. China’s cheeks tinged with the faintest traces of a blush. He covered them with his too-long sleeves.
“Go on,” the man said.
China kneeled down in front of him. He parted his lips to let the end of the pipe slide between them. China inhaled. A rapturous expression stole over his face. The man slipped his other hand in China’s hair. China inclined his head toward him. He let him twine his fingers through his ponytail and stare like a drooling pervert. He withdrew the pipe from China’s mouth. China sighed, releasing a small puff of brown smoke into the already smoggy air. The man took the next smoke of the pipe. China watched it, wide-eyed as a starving man at the feeding of the five thousand.
He crawled closer to the man. He dropped his mouth open again and ran a hand down the side of the man’s face, then the stubble of his chin. The man grinned like an imbecile. He placed the bit of his pipe on China’s tongue again. China sucked at it. So dirty. The man’s saliva was all over the pipe and now mixed with China’s own. The man snatched the pipe back. He took a deep drag and pressed his mouth over China’s as he exhaled. China gripped the man’s collar and pressed into him, he tongued the man’s lower lip as the smoke passed between their mouths.
England grabbed China by the shoulders and pulled him off. He dragged China, bewildered and unresisting, to his corner of the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” England barked. “Acting so shamelessly, dangling over some layabout like a keep trollop and this-” He gestured to the room at large.
China snatched his hand away. “Why are you here?”
“I live here.”
“And you decided to track me down although I took pains not to announce myself? Haven’t you had enough of humiliating me?”
“You’re humiliating yourself! You’re the last person I’d expect to find whoring around in a dive.”
[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 5/?
anonymous
April 26 2010, 23:19:20 UTC
China's voice dropped. "Are you really that ignorant?"
"Of what? A little trade? A skirmish?"
"Do you even understand what you've been doing to me?"
"Nothing worse than we've all had at one time or another. This is what happens. We fight, we buy and sell, someone wins and someone loses. I'm sorry you're losing, China, but if you expect to see me prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness then you're going to be sorely disappointed.
"I didn't come here to see you at all."
"Then why did you come?"
"That has nothing to do with you."
"You're in my country. That entitles me to-"
"Listen to yourself!"
"No, you listen to me. I have a right to know why you're here or at least why you're harming yourself like this."
"Most of my country is addicted because of you."
"So you came to fight?"
"You're honestly a fool, aren't you?"
There was sweat on China's brow again. He swiped at it with his sleeve. His nostrils dilated, taking in wisps of smoke from the air. He opened his mouth and sighed, followed by a deep inhalation. England followed each gesture. Was China even aware of what he looked like? He was sweet and exotic like a mandarin, so much more delicious than brambles and blackberries.
"But if you understood my point at all," China said. "We wouldn't be in this situation, would we? Just leave me in peace."
England grabbed China's overhanging sleeve as he turned away. "You're not doing this to yourself."
"You should have considered that before now."
"China. Please."
"Please what?"
"At least sit with me so I can make sure you're safe while you do this. This is a bad area."
"You have nothing that I want."
England took the tiny handkerchief of opium from his inside pocket. He held it before China's eyes then pushed his hand through China's sleeve. China prickled as England's fingers brushed the inside of his wrist but settled when his own hand closed around the bundle. He snatched his sleeve away but he sat down on the mattress and crossed his arms.
"Matches," he said.
England patted his inside pocket until he found the ones generally used for lighting the stove. He tossed them in front of China. China pulled out a pipe from the depths of his robes, scored deeply with etchings and covered in jade, as elegant and out of place here as he was. He unwrapped the bundle feverishly and flattened out the handkerchief, so that the opium lay in a small mound in the middle. His whole face and neck shimmered with sweat. He made a funnel from the handkerchief and poured the opium into the pipe so that only a little spilled over the rim. There was hardly any there to start with, hardly enough for a pipe full. England kicked the two larger bundles out of his sight. China opened the box of matches with shaking fingers and selected one. The flame lit up his face as he struck it. He dropped it into the pope. He slumped against the back wall of the room. He supped on the pipe in fast sucks., followed by brief exhalations through his nose and mouth.
England sat down in front of him, with his back to the rest of the room. China's eyes were half-lidded. The sweats seemed to have gone, leaving only the faintest glimmer on his skin.
"Why did you need to come here for this?" England asked. "There's plenty of opium in your country."
"You would know," China said. He barely removed the pipe from his mouth to speak before he shoved it back in again.
"Well?"
"I don't want my people to see how I'm shaming them. Can you at least comprehend that much?"
China puffed several times until his face was hidden in a cloud of smoke. England let his eyes wander over China's body but was frustrated at every turn by creased silks. China waved the smoke away with his hand. He blew on the pipe again but only a minute curl of smoke appeared. He clicked his tongue as he inspected the inside of the pipe. He bashed it against the handkerchief on the floor, to get the meagre amount that had slopped over the rim. It didn't appear to be enough to light. China undid the fastenings around his collar. It parted the front of his robe but showed nothing more tantalising than his collarbone.
[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 6/?
anonymous
April 28 2010, 01:33:05 UTC
China half-turned, so that his back was facing England. England shuffled closer to him. He placed a finger between China's shoulder blades. The tip pinned the silks to his back like a dart. He dragged his finger down China's spine. China jerked away. He tucked his head into his chest and refused to look at England. England cupped his chin in his hand and pulled his face toward him. He was blushing, brightly. He tugged his chin away once England had a good eyeful of his expression. England touched his hair, it flashed blue-black even in the dim candlelight. He pulled it out of its tie so it spilled across the back of China's neck. China's shoulders tensed. He clutched his collar closed. England placed his palm over his cheek and gently persuaded his face back toward him.
"So shy," England said.
"Bastard," China muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"All this pretence of 'looking after me' and 'keeping me safe' and all you want is to fetishise me like the rest of your people, so you can degrade me that little bit more."
"That's absurd-" England stopped himself. If it was that absurd then what had he been doing since he'd first caught sight of China? "You're a very attractive man."
China was still blushing. He brought his sleeve up to cover the lower half of his face. "Stop it. Do you think I'm going to fall into bed with you after everything you've done? Things you don't even regret?"
"Would you rather I was a miner with no teeth? They sell them, you know, for the dentists to make false ones. The trade opens up jobs for them. Jobs that don't destroy their health as rapidly."
"I shall tell that to all the widows your people left behind."
"So you're going to wreck yourself in their honour?"
"Go away."
"I have more opium."
China turned back to face him. "I don't want it," he said.
"Yes you do."
"I don't want it from you."
England placed his hand on China's cheek and smiled at him. "Your accent is so cute."
China smacked his hand away. "Sh-Shut up."
England snatched China's pipe while he was distracted. He sat back on his haunches and tucked it away inside his pocket. "That's better," England said. "Now let's get you back home and away from this. You'll be less emotional once you've-"
China threw himself at England. He knocked him bodily against the mattress. "Give it back," he pleaded. He wrapped his legs around England's waist and planted a deep kiss on England's lips. England responded to it before he could think. China tasted of smoke. It rasped at the back of England's throat. "Please," China muttered, before kissing him again. He shoved his hands inside England's shirt jacket as he kissed all the sense out of England's head. England grabbed him by the shoulders and, with effort, pushed him away.
"I thought-" China said.
"That I would sleep with you in this state? Your opinion of me can't get any lower, obviously."
"But you do desire me?"
"Anyone who doesn't is raving mad."
China shrugged his shoulders to free himself from England's grip. He sat up, still straddling England's waist, and undid a few more of his fastenings with deft fingers. England was instantly absorbed in the fine musculature of China's ascetic body, his dark nipples, the fine dusting of hair between his pectoral muscles... He punched England in the throat. It was already dry from the smoke, England gasped as it tightened and tried to breathe while he choked. China found his inside pocket and retrieved the pipe. He scuttled back across the floor with it. He had discovered the two larger bags of opium by the time England finally managed a normal breath.
"What the fucking hell?" England said.
China ignored him. His robe lay open all the way to him navel now but he was making no move to protect his modesty. Beads of sweat ran down his front, drawing the eye to each muscle as he bent over the opium. The sleeves kept dropping over his hands as he tried to unfurl one of the handkerchiefs. He cast the whole thing off. England stared at the trail of hair leading from below his navel to his waistband like an arrow. A waistband that was already slipping over his hipbones. England pushed down the urge to beat that beautiful body black and blue. He bit his tongue to stop the tirade pouring out of his mouth.
[Part 10] Poppy Seeds - China/England - 7/?
anonymous
May 5 2010, 00:42:16 UTC
[[Sorry for the slowness of updates, guys. Coursework is eating my life at the moment. Thank you for all the encouraging comments so far.]]
China didn't even appear to notice. He was too busy filling the pipe again, lighting the match, pressing the bit between his lips.
"This is what you didn't want your countrymen to see," England said. "Stealing, whoring, fighting like a tupenny prostitute."
China's eyes were unfocused. He took a drag of the pipe and blew out the smoke through his nose. "You don't seem averse to my 'whoring'."
"And you don't seem averse to my attentions."
China shut his eyes and puffed at the pipe again, dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks. "Of course. It's long been one of my fantasies to be pored over from head to toe by a drunk Englishman purporting to save me from myself."
"Are you saying you haven't been using your body to feed this filthy habit?"
"That depends exactly what you mean by 'using my body'. Your imagination seems to be running wild tonight."
"You know exactly what I'm getting that. I can't even begin to tell you how dangerous throwing yourself at the working class here is."
"I'm not going to pick up any diseases from kissing, England. Surely you're old enough now to understand how these things work."
"You aren't doing anything yet. You're here with no usable currency and you've already worked your way through a sovereign's worth. Come home with me and let me help you to get it out of your system."
"No."
"Are you really going to wreck yourself for a silly drug?"
China removed the pipe from his mouth. He turned and shuffled closer to England on his knees. No underwear. Why wasn't he wearing underwear? The waistband of his trousers dipped far enough for England to see the base of his cock. Everything about him was so damned exquisite-
"Taste it," China said.
China offered him the bit of the pipe. His fingers were white-knuckled on the front with a grip England knew he wouldn't be able to break. Smoke rose from the open mouth. China breathed deeply.
"No," England said. "It's vile."
"Because you've never truly experienced it. You don't know what the relief is like. I can forget for a few moments about what my people are going through- Your people tearing through me- them when they had no chance. When I'm high enough that I don't care whose hands are all over me, what I'm hearing or seeing... When I dose myself high enough that my heart constricts and stops," China sighed, his eyelids lowered again. "And it's blissful and silent."
England was sure the opium wouldn't affect him but China's voice sent tingles along his spine. He took a drag. As soon as the stale smoke hit the back of his throat he doubled over, coughing. It was like another punch in the throat. He forced himself to breathe again and blow the smoke back out. It was like swallowing warm sand. "That's," he wheezed. "Horrible."
China laughed softly. He flicked England's chin with his index finger. "Child," he said.
He reached up and grabbed England's chin. He tapped the bit against England's tight lips.
"Don't try to swallow it," he said. "Blow and breathe in the smoke or hold it in your mouth and release it."
England sucked the pipe again but not as deeply. He held the smoke in his mouth as he'd been told to do. It still scratched at the back of his throat but when he released it, it blew into China's face. China inhaled deeply, as if he were smelling a fresh bouquet. England tried to breathe in some of the smoke too. China took his own drag and offered it to England again. England took another. His thoughts were getting harder to keep track of, dancing away like will 'o' the wisps but a few tenacious ones remained. He curled his fingers inside China's waistband. The movement felt exaggerated and slow as if he were pushing through treacle but China didn't resist. England pushed his trousers down. China drew England into his lap.
"Gorgeous," England said. His voice was slurred. His jaw too relaxed. He straddled China's hips.
“He spoke English? What did he look like?”
“He was,” the boy lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Handsome. But he was short for a grown-up. He let me touch his sleeves. I’ve never felt silk before.”
England shook his head. No, it couldn’t be. Why would he come here for any reason other than to slit England’s throat? Surely he was too polite to stage a confrontation on England’s home soil. “Where did you see him last?”
“I showed him to a place but it’s a long way…”
“There’s a sovereign in it for you.”
“Okay. Hold my hand so the others won’t think you’re free.”
England wrapped the boy’s smaller hand in his and let himself be led. It was rather like his forays with a child America, who had decided England absolutely had to see something. Except after this, this child would go back to his poverty. At least he appeared to be healthy, if a little thin. There was so much disease among the human populace here, dysentery and syphilis and influenza, not to mention the kinds of things that might happen to a little boy on the streets like this. The boy tugged England’s arm every time he appeared to slow. England saw only hints of the other children as they walked. They tended to become very good at concealing themselves.
“Mister,” the boy said. “How come you’re all dressed up and got money like a toff but you don’t sound properly like them?”
“There are more of you than there are of them,” England said.
The boy frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. You must’ve been like me and then got rich on the race horses. My da says he’s going to get rich on the race horses. Anyway, it’s through here but you’re not to tell the police, all right? Or about me neither.”
“All right, thank you.”
England handed over the sovereign. The boy clutched his hand as he tried to retract it. “I can do…” the boy lowered his eyes. “…Other things for you. For more shillings.” A slight tremble ran through his body. “With my mouth because I don’t want a sore bum.”
“No!” England said. He kneeled down in front of the boy and drew him into a hug. “Don’t offer those other things so lightly. Here.” England passed over three more sovereigns. “Don’t give that to your dad. Buy food with it and share it with your family. It should keep you going for a couple of weeks.”
The boy hugged him back and then ran off. Within a few moments, he’d completely disappeared. England straightened himself up and checked his wallet was still there. It was. He walked through the door the boy had shown him to. It led to another door via a set of wooden stairs. The damp had set in to them, making the small space stale with the scent of rotten wood. England trod carefully down them in case they buckled under his weight. He pushed on the second door, only to have someone on the other side push back.
“Who are you?” the voice on the other side said.
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“You sound a bit more refined than we’re used to around here, Arfur. ‘You a copper?”
“Oh, for God’s sake. No, I’m not a copper and you’re not making yourselves look any less suspicious with this act. Here.”
England pushed a sovereign under the gap between the door and the floor. A dirty hand scrabbled for it. “Yeah, all right.”
The door opened. England entered and slammed it shut behind him. The room was larger than he’d been expecting, compared to the other rooms in the slums. England suspected it was one of the only basements in this part of London that hadn’t had partitions put up to house six or seven families. A thick, brown smoke hung in the air but there was an uneven silhouette beyond the first couple of people that hinted at people crowded together. Dirty mattresses, probably full of lice, covered most of the floor. They spoke in soft voices so that his ears were full of murmurs rather than the boorish chatter he’d come to associate with the working class. He swayed a little from the lack of sobering, fresh air and tried not to inhale.
England looked back at the doorman. He flashed his brown teeth at him. He was sitting on his own mattress, covered in little bundles made from handkerchiefs. Sooty fingerprints had been left on the white cloth.
“You look like you’re coming down with the vapours, son,” he said. “Don’t worry, they’re clean. I douse ‘em with powder and give them a scrub down every night. You won’t catch anything. Off the mattresses anyhow. I wouldn’t recommend you go near the lasses.”
“What?”
“Go on,” the doorman threw a small handkerchief at him. England caught it. “Get on with it.”
“This is all I get for a sovereign?”
“That was a door fee and it stops me talking about a young blond and green-eyed toff with funny eyebrows in the region of yer wife and peers.”
“I see. Has a Chinese man come through here?”
“There’s a hell of a lot of Chinese in here, mate. They like their opium.”
“You’d recognise this Chinese man.”
“Ah, him wearing the emperor’s clothes, you mean? He tried to pay me with foreign money ‘cause he didn’t have anything proper. He went to try his luck around there.”
England cast a couple more sovereigns onto the table. “Give me some more. As much as that will buy.”
“Well, aren’t you flush?” The doorman handed over a couple of much fuller handkerchiefs. “Don’t smoke all that at once. I won’t notice a body until it’s too late.”
“Right,” England said, absently.
He charged into the thick of the smoke. He walked through the aisles of tangled legs and tried to look around but everywhere his eyes fell, they fell on people heating spoons over candles or covering themselves in soot from pipes and puffing away with vacant eyes. Everyone here was polluting their bodies, polluting them for something worthless and transient. This is what they chose to spend their pittance of a wage on? Even though most of them were rail thin and bent-backed? England wished he could sit all his people on his knee one by one and lecture them like he’d lectured his colonies until their ears and their minds were so full of his voice they couldn’t even contemplate such stupidity. His thoughts leapt dangerously to thoughts of Korea. It wasn’t that he didn’t treat the boy well but China had treated him well too…
England found a spare mattress tucked into the corner of the room and sat. He placed the opium next to himself. No one appeared to be paying him any mind, so he crossed his legs and peered over the heads of the revellers. There was no sign of anyone familiar. He tried to concentrate on peering through the smoke but it was all too easy for his mind to wander in a room warm with body heat. He closed his eyes against the hot smoke’s assault on them and let them water beneath his eyelids. He fell back onto the mattress. Someone shook his shoulder. What? He’d barely closed his eyes.
One of the men was kneeling in front of him. A miner, England guessed. He had that familiar curvature of the back despite being young.
“Don’t sleep, mate,” he said. “You’ll get your wallet stolen or worse.”
England forced himself to sit back up. “Thanks…” England handed him a couple of shillings.
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He disappeared back into the crowd. England rubbed at his eyes. He stared into the smoke until he was startled out of another reverie.
China strode through the smoke. His silks rippled across his body as he walked, head held high and the splits of his robe parting to reveal the trousers underneath. The others seemed to think he was an apparition. They reached languid hands up to trail across his calves and their fingers fell away. Handsome indeed. In the periphery of his mind, England must have noticed it before but it had never struck him so much as now. Perhaps because China always wore such overlarge clothes. His sleeves hid his hands and the tails of his robes brushed the floor. They hid his body from prying eyes but made the mind race with the thought of the delights underneath. China raised his sleeve and swiped it across his forehead, wiping away perspiration England had barely noticed.
Any moment now, he would see England. Any moment now.
“Oi,” one of the wastrels opposite England said.
China paused. The man offered up the end of his pipe to him. China’s cheeks tinged with the faintest traces of a blush. He covered them with his too-long sleeves.
“Go on,” the man said.
China kneeled down in front of him. He parted his lips to let the end of the pipe slide between them. China inhaled. A rapturous expression stole over his face. The man slipped his other hand in China’s hair. China inclined his head toward him. He let him twine his fingers through his ponytail and stare like a drooling pervert. He withdrew the pipe from China’s mouth. China sighed, releasing a small puff of brown smoke into the already smoggy air. The man took the next smoke of the pipe. China watched it, wide-eyed as a starving man at the feeding of the five thousand.
He crawled closer to the man. He dropped his mouth open again and ran a hand down the side of the man’s face, then the stubble of his chin. The man grinned like an imbecile. He placed the bit of his pipe on China’s tongue again. China sucked at it. So dirty. The man’s saliva was all over the pipe and now mixed with China’s own. The man snatched the pipe back. He took a deep drag and pressed his mouth over China’s as he exhaled. China gripped the man’s collar and pressed into him, he tongued the man’s lower lip as the smoke passed between their mouths.
England grabbed China by the shoulders and pulled him off. He dragged China, bewildered and unresisting, to his corner of the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” England barked. “Acting so shamelessly, dangling over some layabout like a keep trollop and this-” He gestured to the room at large.
China snatched his hand away. “Why are you here?”
“I live here.”
“And you decided to track me down although I took pains not to announce myself? Haven’t you had enough of humiliating me?”
“You’re humiliating yourself! You’re the last person I’d expect to find whoring around in a dive.”
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"Of what? A little trade? A skirmish?"
"Do you even understand what you've been doing to me?"
"Nothing worse than we've all had at one time or another. This is what happens. We fight, we buy and sell, someone wins and someone loses. I'm sorry you're losing, China, but if you expect to see me prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness then you're going to be sorely disappointed.
"I didn't come here to see you at all."
"Then why did you come?"
"That has nothing to do with you."
"You're in my country. That entitles me to-"
"Listen to yourself!"
"No, you listen to me. I have a right to know why you're here or at least why you're harming yourself like this."
"Most of my country is addicted because of you."
"So you came to fight?"
"You're honestly a fool, aren't you?"
There was sweat on China's brow again. He swiped at it with his sleeve. His nostrils dilated, taking in wisps of smoke from the air. He opened his mouth and sighed, followed by a deep inhalation. England followed each gesture. Was China even aware of what he looked like? He was sweet and exotic like a mandarin, so much more delicious than brambles and blackberries.
"But if you understood my point at all," China said. "We wouldn't be in this situation, would we? Just leave me in peace."
England grabbed China's overhanging sleeve as he turned away. "You're not doing this to yourself."
"You should have considered that before now."
"China. Please."
"Please what?"
"At least sit with me so I can make sure you're safe while you do this. This is a bad area."
"You have nothing that I want."
England took the tiny handkerchief of opium from his inside pocket. He held it before China's eyes then pushed his hand through China's sleeve. China prickled as England's fingers brushed the inside of his wrist but settled when his own hand closed around the bundle. He snatched his sleeve away but he sat down on the mattress and crossed his arms.
"Matches," he said.
England patted his inside pocket until he found the ones generally used for lighting the stove. He tossed them in front of China. China pulled out a pipe from the depths of his robes, scored deeply with etchings and covered in jade, as elegant and out of place here as he was. He unwrapped the bundle feverishly and flattened out the handkerchief, so that the opium lay in a small mound in the middle. His whole face and neck shimmered with sweat. He made a funnel from the handkerchief and poured the opium into the pipe so that only a little spilled over the rim. There was hardly any there to start with, hardly enough for a pipe full. England kicked the two larger bundles out of his sight. China opened the box of matches with shaking fingers and selected one. The flame lit up his face as he struck it. He dropped it into the pope. He slumped against the back wall of the room. He supped on the pipe in fast sucks., followed by brief exhalations through his nose and mouth.
England sat down in front of him, with his back to the rest of the room. China's eyes were half-lidded. The sweats seemed to have gone, leaving only the faintest glimmer on his skin.
"Why did you need to come here for this?" England asked. "There's plenty of opium in your country."
"You would know," China said. He barely removed the pipe from his mouth to speak before he shoved it back in again.
"Well?"
"I don't want my people to see how I'm shaming them. Can you at least comprehend that much?"
China puffed several times until his face was hidden in a cloud of smoke. England let his eyes wander over China's body but was frustrated at every turn by creased silks. China waved the smoke away with his hand. He blew on the pipe again but only a minute curl of smoke appeared. He clicked his tongue as he inspected the inside of the pipe. He bashed it against the handkerchief on the floor, to get the meagre amount that had slopped over the rim. It didn't appear to be enough to light. China undid the fastenings around his collar. It parted the front of his robe but showed nothing more tantalising than his collarbone.
"China," England said.
"Leave!"
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"So shy," England said.
"Bastard," China muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"All this pretence of 'looking after me' and 'keeping me safe' and all you want is to fetishise me like the rest of your people, so you can degrade me that little bit more."
"That's absurd-" England stopped himself. If it was that absurd then what had he been doing since he'd first caught sight of China? "You're a very attractive man."
China was still blushing. He brought his sleeve up to cover the lower half of his face. "Stop it. Do you think I'm going to fall into bed with you after everything you've done? Things you don't even regret?"
"Would you rather I was a miner with no teeth? They sell them, you know, for the dentists to make false ones. The trade opens up jobs for them. Jobs that don't destroy their health as rapidly."
"I shall tell that to all the widows your people left behind."
"So you're going to wreck yourself in their honour?"
"Go away."
"I have more opium."
China turned back to face him. "I don't want it," he said.
"Yes you do."
"I don't want it from you."
England placed his hand on China's cheek and smiled at him. "Your accent is so cute."
China smacked his hand away. "Sh-Shut up."
England snatched China's pipe while he was distracted. He sat back on his haunches and tucked it away inside his pocket. "That's better," England said. "Now let's get you back home and away from this. You'll be less emotional once you've-"
China threw himself at England. He knocked him bodily against the mattress. "Give it back," he pleaded. He wrapped his legs around England's waist and planted a deep kiss on England's lips. England responded to it before he could think. China tasted of smoke. It rasped at the back of England's throat. "Please," China muttered, before kissing him again. He shoved his hands inside England's shirt jacket as he kissed all the sense out of England's head. England grabbed him by the shoulders and, with effort, pushed him away.
"I thought-" China said.
"That I would sleep with you in this state? Your opinion of me can't get any lower, obviously."
"But you do desire me?"
"Anyone who doesn't is raving mad."
China shrugged his shoulders to free himself from England's grip. He sat up, still straddling England's waist, and undid a few more of his fastenings with deft fingers. England was instantly absorbed in the fine musculature of China's ascetic body, his dark nipples, the fine dusting of hair between his pectoral muscles... He punched England in the throat. It was already dry from the smoke, England gasped as it tightened and tried to breathe while he choked. China found his inside pocket and retrieved the pipe. He scuttled back across the floor with it. He had discovered the two larger bags of opium by the time England finally managed a normal breath.
"What the fucking hell?" England said.
China ignored him. His robe lay open all the way to him navel now but he was making no move to protect his modesty. Beads of sweat ran down his front, drawing the eye to each muscle as he bent over the opium. The sleeves kept dropping over his hands as he tried to unfurl one of the handkerchiefs. He cast the whole thing off. England stared at the trail of hair leading from below his navel to his waistband like an arrow. A waistband that was already slipping over his hipbones. England pushed down the urge to beat that beautiful body black and blue. He bit his tongue to stop the tirade pouring out of his mouth.
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I like how you're making it degrading instead of happy high times too, because if you consider it is pretty messed up.
Great job, I'll look forward to reading more!
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There is more, just it's taking me forever to type things up recently.
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Damn it, self!
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China didn't even appear to notice. He was too busy filling the pipe again, lighting the match, pressing the bit between his lips.
"This is what you didn't want your countrymen to see," England said. "Stealing, whoring, fighting like a tupenny prostitute."
China's eyes were unfocused. He took a drag of the pipe and blew out the smoke through his nose. "You don't seem averse to my 'whoring'."
"And you don't seem averse to my attentions."
China shut his eyes and puffed at the pipe again, dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks. "Of course. It's long been one of my fantasies to be pored over from head to toe by a drunk Englishman purporting to save me from myself."
"Are you saying you haven't been using your body to feed this filthy habit?"
"That depends exactly what you mean by 'using my body'. Your imagination seems to be running wild tonight."
"You know exactly what I'm getting that. I can't even begin to tell you how dangerous throwing yourself at the working class here is."
"I'm not going to pick up any diseases from kissing, England. Surely you're old enough now to understand how these things work."
"You aren't doing anything yet. You're here with no usable currency and you've already worked your way through a sovereign's worth. Come home with me and let me help you to get it out of your system."
"No."
"Are you really going to wreck yourself for a silly drug?"
China removed the pipe from his mouth. He turned and shuffled closer to England on his knees. No underwear. Why wasn't he wearing underwear? The waistband of his trousers dipped far enough for England to see the base of his cock. Everything about him was so damned exquisite-
"Taste it," China said.
China offered him the bit of the pipe. His fingers were white-knuckled on the front with a grip England knew he wouldn't be able to break. Smoke rose from the open mouth. China breathed deeply.
"No," England said. "It's vile."
"Because you've never truly experienced it. You don't know what the relief is like. I can forget for a few moments about what my people are going through- Your people tearing through me- them when they had no chance. When I'm high enough that I don't care whose hands are all over me, what I'm hearing or seeing... When I dose myself high enough that my heart constricts and stops," China sighed, his eyelids lowered again. "And it's blissful and silent."
England was sure the opium wouldn't affect him but China's voice sent tingles along his spine. He took a drag. As soon as the stale smoke hit the back of his throat he doubled over, coughing. It was like another punch in the throat. He forced himself to breathe again and blow the smoke back out. It was like swallowing warm sand. "That's," he wheezed. "Horrible."
China laughed softly. He flicked England's chin with his index finger. "Child," he said.
He reached up and grabbed England's chin. He tapped the bit against England's tight lips.
"Don't try to swallow it," he said. "Blow and breathe in the smoke or hold it in your mouth and release it."
England sucked the pipe again but not as deeply. He held the smoke in his mouth as he'd been told to do. It still scratched at the back of his throat but when he released it, it blew into China's face. China inhaled deeply, as if he were smelling a fresh bouquet. England tried to breathe in some of the smoke too. China took his own drag and offered it to England again. England took another. His thoughts were getting harder to keep track of, dancing away like will 'o' the wisps but a few tenacious ones remained. He curled his fingers inside China's waistband. The movement felt exaggerated and slow as if he were pushing through treacle but China didn't resist. England pushed his trousers down. China drew England into his lap.
"Gorgeous," England said. His voice was slurred. His jaw too relaxed. He straddled China's hips.
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