Turned to Turpentine [Rewrite] 1/?
Title: Turned To Turpentine
Author: pieofthetiger
Genre: Hancest ; Pairing: Zac/Taylor [Not related in this]
Chapter: 1/? ; Word Count: 2176
Rating: R ; Warning: May contain traces of extreme violence[No seriously; Contains: Sexual assualt, Bad lauguage, Torture.]
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not know any of the characters personally. All of my fiction is exactly that; FICTION and it all is of my own creative and rather warped mind.
Summary: It had been this way his whole life almost; unless you counted the year he'd spent being passed around like a pass the parcel package; from foster home to foster home, family to family.
He sat on a ill kept bench facing over the entirety of the shadow covered Blythe Street Park, his dirty blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head and a old ratty scarf wrapped around his long, slender neck. No older than twenty years of age, the blond looked like he'd lived longer than those few years, looked as if he'd lived a lifetime, blue eyes ancient in a young man's face. Not that you could see his face clearly under the dark cover of night.
Supposedly, you were supposed to be carefree in your youth, but honestly Taylor couldn't remember ever having a carefree day. Standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, the blond, lanky teen started to walk down through the park heading for his side of town and by 'his side of town' he really meant; the side of town that he was more likely to be left alone. If he was lucky.
He didn't have a home persay, but he prefered to think of it as making the world his home. That sounded like it had so many possibilities... Los Angeles, The City of Angels was supposed to be the city of unlimited possibilities...YEAH RIGHT. These days the possibilities required money and a good education, not to mention balls of Titanium.
So his possibilities consisted of the next hit he got and if he'd find somewhere dry to sleep. He had no money and so he had no possibilities.
Taylor was used to it though, he'd quickly learned that he didn't mean fuck all to the world around him and took no offense to it. People were too busy to even notice people like him, not that he was looking for attention or anything, because he wasn't. So used to being like this that Taylor had convinced himself that he was happy and so he no longer made any moves to change his life for the better, after several failed attempts he'd realised that he was all alone in this.
But it had been this way his whole life almost; unless you counted the year he'd spent being passed around like a pass the parcel package; from foster home to foster home, family to family. Each expecting different things from him, each wanting to 'fix' him in one way or another.
Taylor himself, of course, didn't count this, didn't include it at all; in fact he barely even thought of it as he wandered out of the park and through the cold, dark streets of Los Angeles. The teenager forced back a shudder, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and he quickened his steps to walk faster though the neighbor hood he now knew so well. He knew all the side streets, places to hide, knew the risks and dangers that came with wandering them this late at night. In fact there were times in his life that he was part of that very danger.
Not that he liked hurting people or anything, but he had to survive somehow. Of course, he'd never hurt anyone too badly, just enough to keep his reputation intact; he'd never taken more than he needed, never hurt someone for a pair of shoes; never killed over his next meal. -Maybe that was why his clothing was so tattered and torn and why it hung off him in a rather unattractive way.
He was so deep in thought, that Taylor never heard the shuffling of footsteps over the mud covered street, never heard the metalic swish of a switchblade opening. And even though he was walking pretty fast, as he usually did, the footsteps were soon upon him.
Taylor turned quickly, his heart almost stopping as he was grabbed from all directions and thrown up hard against the side of a building, the back of Mitch's Butchery if he remembered correctly; sold bad meat and got away with it. His head hit the brick with a solid thud as the sharp edge of the blade was shoved up against his throat.
Taylor's eyes flickered from side to side as he assessed his odds of escape or of fighting back. There were five of them not including the thug holding the blade to his throat. His odds were slim. He'd have to talk his way out of this one, and hope for only injury or, at least, a quick death.
"We've been waiting for you. You owe the boss a lot of Dinero pretty boy," The thug with the knife hissed, pressing the blade harder to his throat, causing a trickle of blood to make its way down over his skin in an almost zig-zag like fashion. It was funny how only just last week this guy hadn't had a knife and he hadn't been so tough then either, when Taylor had kicked him in the balls.
"I'm gunna pay, tell Jos-"
He was interrupted with a fist to the face, his lip splitting open under the harsh pressure, his eyes glinting in anger and pain beneath the gaze of the man who had hit him; blood slowly dripping down his prominent chin.
A laugh came from one of the other morons somewhere to his left, but Taylor didn't even glance in that direction, his blue eyes glued furiously to the man in front of him. HE was the immediate danger. HE was the one, the first one he would go for once he had the chance. If he ever had the chance that was.
"Did I say you could speak the bosses name; RAT?!"
Rat. His given street name. Given to him by a boy of a mere twelve years. Taylor had a habit of sneaking around even when he wasn't on a job. He hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and even then he was normally short with his words; he had a very untrusting nature. Really, in all reality it came with the territory, growing up on the streets you quickly learnt to trust no one and you learnt to keep your mouth shut.
And even though he was pretty quiet, Taylor had a quick-witted tongue and for a man with barely any schooling; a high intelligence. Rat. His ability to squirm his way out of the tightest situations. But somehow, Taylor knew THAT ability was going to get him nowhere tonight. Oh well he could ONLY try right? Sliding his tongue out over his stinging lower lip Taylor glared darkly at the man before him.
"Well then; since you asked so nicely... tell "The BOSS" that he'll be paid in full." Taylor said coolly, a fine eyebrow arching in a dark amusement before he was slammed roughly back against the wall once again, sending the air from his lungs in a whoosh.
“Of course he will, including fifteen percent extra.”
“What?!” Taylor practically shouted out in reply, his blue eyes widening, he couldn’t afford that! Hell, he couldn’t even afford the initial one thousand that he owed the man.
“Fifteen percent.”
“I heard you the fucking first time. Do you even know how much fifteen percent IS?” Taylor arched a brow, amused and angry all at once.
The amusement was wiped from his face though as the other mans fist connected with his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs again and making him a little weak in the knees.
“You have a BIG mouth, Rat, how about you put it to good use,” the thug hissed as his knee slammed into Taylor’s groin, making the seriously underweight boy drop to his knees in pain. His dirty blond hair falling from the barely contained ponytail to cover his now pale face as he cupped his hands to his aching balls.
"Fuck." He SWORE he could see ducks flying… they were wearing tutu’s with little silver stars and they were happily dancing the chicken dance. ‘I wish *I* was a duck right now…’ Taylor found himself thinking wryly as he tried to struggle to his feet only to be shoved to his knees once again. Cussing under his breath, Taylor looked up only to see the thug hand the switchblade to once of his crew members.
"Hold this." The jackass with the blade quickly stepped forward and pressed the point of the blade hard against the pulse in his neck making Taylor pause in his attempts to stand.
Taylor's eyes only widened considerably as he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened. Fuck his life! Glancing up, Taylor inwardly groaned as he saw the bigger man pull out his flaccid penis, waggling it in his face like, well… a piece of meat.
“Sorry I’m a vegetarian?” He smirked hopefully, only to receive a backhanded slap to his face, the skin reddening instantly on impact and his head getting rocked to the right from the force of the blow. He growled softly under his breath only to be hit again, the slap so hard it sent him reeling backwards so, his head flying to the left. Taylor slowly rolled his head back and glared up at the gang member only to have the guys uncut dick slap against his face.
“You bite it, Mac here will knife you so fast you wont even have time to scream.”
“Do you say that to every one who sucks your dick?” Taylor retorted snidely, his face red from anger and the slaps he’d received. “I’m SURE your mother really LOVED the compliments.” SHIT. Why couldn’t he he keep his mouth shut? His mouth was going to get him into MORE trouble that he already was.
Taylor screamed out into the dark night as his right hand was grabbed, pulled upwards and his middle finger was broken in the blink of an eye. The snapping sound echoed through the alleyway, soon followed by the sounds of Taylor dry retching. He probably would of thrown up then, except there was nothing to throw up; he’d not eaten in days, and the last REAL meal he’d actually had was back when he was in one of the many foster homes.
The sound of his retching was soon cut off as his messy ponytail was grabbed roughly, the thug yanking his head backwards and shoving his poor excuse for a penis into his mouth, making Taylor gag more, his eyes welling up with tears of disgust.
“Suck it or I’ll break another…”
Taylor shook his head weakly, trying to rid himself of the foul smelling body part. Taylor was a proud man. It killed him inside as it was; having to suck cock for a living when he’d rather be sucking one for pleasure. And now here he was having to suck one for no reason at all; except for this thugs desire to feel big about himself. When really he was tiny--penis wise and non.
*SNAP*
This time it was his pinky finger and Taylor screamed around the now hardening prick in his mouth. He gagged once again as the lengthening penis was shoved forcibly down his throat, his head held in place by the harsh grip on his hair.
“Suck!”
The order was thrown at him once again, but Taylor was too busy trying to breath to follow through quickly enough. He couldn’t even manage a scream this time around as his index finger followed his pinky and middle; a gurgling, gagging sound exiting his throat. Taylor’s eyes rolled, his head lolling backwards as he felt himself starting to lose consciousness. His head was jolted with the impact of a resounding slap, his eyelids fluttering weakly against his pale cheeks as the thug started to fuck his mouth ruthlessly, fast, hard and uncompromising.
The only thing that kept Taylor from drifting into darkness and possibly getting knifed was the sound of the fat mans balls slapping against his face. Taylor gagged as he felt the mans cock swell in his mouth and he struggled again, his fear of AIDS pushing him to fight once more; his head trying to move from side to side, to remove the offending body part. His efforts were to no avail as cum spilt forth into his mouth and the man grunted in an almost pig-like manner as he pulled his cock free; laughing at him as he kicked Taylor repeatedly in the stomach, forcing the cum from his mouth in a rush, most of it streaming down his chin to his throat.
“Pay up, Rat, or there’ll be more where THAT came from!”
They left him like that; laying face down on the dark dusty concrete of the alleyway, cum coating his lips and chin, right hand cradled to his chest, the other weakly digging into the dirt below him. Taylor barely uttered a sound as dizziness washed over him and he slowly slipped into the relief of darkness. All pain dispersing into a silent throbbing in his ears.
Author: pieofthetiger
Genre: Hancest ; Pairing: Zac/Taylor [Not related in this]
Chapter: 1/? ; Word Count: 2176
Rating: R ; Warning: May contain traces of extreme violence[No seriously; Contains: Sexual assualt, Bad lauguage, Torture.]
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not know any of the characters personally. All of my fiction is exactly that; FICTION and it all is of my own creative and rather warped mind.
Summary: It had been this way his whole life almost; unless you counted the year he'd spent being passed around like a pass the parcel package; from foster home to foster home, family to family.
He sat on a ill kept bench facing over the entirety of the shadow covered Blythe Street Park, his dirty blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the back of his head and a old ratty scarf wrapped around his long, slender neck. No older than twenty years of age, the blond looked like he'd lived longer than those few years, looked as if he'd lived a lifetime, blue eyes ancient in a young man's face. Not that you could see his face clearly under the dark cover of night.
Supposedly, you were supposed to be carefree in your youth, but honestly Taylor couldn't remember ever having a carefree day. Standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans, the blond, lanky teen started to walk down through the park heading for his side of town and by 'his side of town' he really meant; the side of town that he was more likely to be left alone. If he was lucky.
He didn't have a home persay, but he prefered to think of it as making the world his home. That sounded like it had so many possibilities... Los Angeles, The City of Angels was supposed to be the city of unlimited possibilities...YEAH RIGHT. These days the possibilities required money and a good education, not to mention balls of Titanium.
So his possibilities consisted of the next hit he got and if he'd find somewhere dry to sleep. He had no money and so he had no possibilities.
Taylor was used to it though, he'd quickly learned that he didn't mean fuck all to the world around him and took no offense to it. People were too busy to even notice people like him, not that he was looking for attention or anything, because he wasn't. So used to being like this that Taylor had convinced himself that he was happy and so he no longer made any moves to change his life for the better, after several failed attempts he'd realised that he was all alone in this.
But it had been this way his whole life almost; unless you counted the year he'd spent being passed around like a pass the parcel package; from foster home to foster home, family to family. Each expecting different things from him, each wanting to 'fix' him in one way or another.
Taylor himself, of course, didn't count this, didn't include it at all; in fact he barely even thought of it as he wandered out of the park and through the cold, dark streets of Los Angeles. The teenager forced back a shudder, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and he quickened his steps to walk faster though the neighbor hood he now knew so well. He knew all the side streets, places to hide, knew the risks and dangers that came with wandering them this late at night. In fact there were times in his life that he was part of that very danger.
Not that he liked hurting people or anything, but he had to survive somehow. Of course, he'd never hurt anyone too badly, just enough to keep his reputation intact; he'd never taken more than he needed, never hurt someone for a pair of shoes; never killed over his next meal. -Maybe that was why his clothing was so tattered and torn and why it hung off him in a rather unattractive way.
He was so deep in thought, that Taylor never heard the shuffling of footsteps over the mud covered street, never heard the metalic swish of a switchblade opening. And even though he was walking pretty fast, as he usually did, the footsteps were soon upon him.
Taylor turned quickly, his heart almost stopping as he was grabbed from all directions and thrown up hard against the side of a building, the back of Mitch's Butchery if he remembered correctly; sold bad meat and got away with it. His head hit the brick with a solid thud as the sharp edge of the blade was shoved up against his throat.
Taylor's eyes flickered from side to side as he assessed his odds of escape or of fighting back. There were five of them not including the thug holding the blade to his throat. His odds were slim. He'd have to talk his way out of this one, and hope for only injury or, at least, a quick death.
"We've been waiting for you. You owe the boss a lot of Dinero pretty boy," The thug with the knife hissed, pressing the blade harder to his throat, causing a trickle of blood to make its way down over his skin in an almost zig-zag like fashion. It was funny how only just last week this guy hadn't had a knife and he hadn't been so tough then either, when Taylor had kicked him in the balls.
"I'm gunna pay, tell Jos-"
He was interrupted with a fist to the face, his lip splitting open under the harsh pressure, his eyes glinting in anger and pain beneath the gaze of the man who had hit him; blood slowly dripping down his prominent chin.
A laugh came from one of the other morons somewhere to his left, but Taylor didn't even glance in that direction, his blue eyes glued furiously to the man in front of him. HE was the immediate danger. HE was the one, the first one he would go for once he had the chance. If he ever had the chance that was.
"Did I say you could speak the bosses name; RAT?!"
Rat. His given street name. Given to him by a boy of a mere twelve years. Taylor had a habit of sneaking around even when he wasn't on a job. He hardly ever spoke unless spoken to, and even then he was normally short with his words; he had a very untrusting nature. Really, in all reality it came with the territory, growing up on the streets you quickly learnt to trust no one and you learnt to keep your mouth shut.
And even though he was pretty quiet, Taylor had a quick-witted tongue and for a man with barely any schooling; a high intelligence. Rat. His ability to squirm his way out of the tightest situations. But somehow, Taylor knew THAT ability was going to get him nowhere tonight. Oh well he could ONLY try right? Sliding his tongue out over his stinging lower lip Taylor glared darkly at the man before him.
"Well then; since you asked so nicely... tell "The BOSS" that he'll be paid in full." Taylor said coolly, a fine eyebrow arching in a dark amusement before he was slammed roughly back against the wall once again, sending the air from his lungs in a whoosh.
“Of course he will, including fifteen percent extra.”
“What?!” Taylor practically shouted out in reply, his blue eyes widening, he couldn’t afford that! Hell, he couldn’t even afford the initial one thousand that he owed the man.
“Fifteen percent.”
“I heard you the fucking first time. Do you even know how much fifteen percent IS?” Taylor arched a brow, amused and angry all at once.
The amusement was wiped from his face though as the other mans fist connected with his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs again and making him a little weak in the knees.
“You have a BIG mouth, Rat, how about you put it to good use,” the thug hissed as his knee slammed into Taylor’s groin, making the seriously underweight boy drop to his knees in pain. His dirty blond hair falling from the barely contained ponytail to cover his now pale face as he cupped his hands to his aching balls.
"Fuck." He SWORE he could see ducks flying… they were wearing tutu’s with little silver stars and they were happily dancing the chicken dance. ‘I wish *I* was a duck right now…’ Taylor found himself thinking wryly as he tried to struggle to his feet only to be shoved to his knees once again. Cussing under his breath, Taylor looked up only to see the thug hand the switchblade to once of his crew members.
"Hold this." The jackass with the blade quickly stepped forward and pressed the point of the blade hard against the pulse in his neck making Taylor pause in his attempts to stand.
Taylor's eyes only widened considerably as he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened. Fuck his life! Glancing up, Taylor inwardly groaned as he saw the bigger man pull out his flaccid penis, waggling it in his face like, well… a piece of meat.
“Sorry I’m a vegetarian?” He smirked hopefully, only to receive a backhanded slap to his face, the skin reddening instantly on impact and his head getting rocked to the right from the force of the blow. He growled softly under his breath only to be hit again, the slap so hard it sent him reeling backwards so, his head flying to the left. Taylor slowly rolled his head back and glared up at the gang member only to have the guys uncut dick slap against his face.
“You bite it, Mac here will knife you so fast you wont even have time to scream.”
“Do you say that to every one who sucks your dick?” Taylor retorted snidely, his face red from anger and the slaps he’d received. “I’m SURE your mother really LOVED the compliments.” SHIT. Why couldn’t he he keep his mouth shut? His mouth was going to get him into MORE trouble that he already was.
Taylor screamed out into the dark night as his right hand was grabbed, pulled upwards and his middle finger was broken in the blink of an eye. The snapping sound echoed through the alleyway, soon followed by the sounds of Taylor dry retching. He probably would of thrown up then, except there was nothing to throw up; he’d not eaten in days, and the last REAL meal he’d actually had was back when he was in one of the many foster homes.
The sound of his retching was soon cut off as his messy ponytail was grabbed roughly, the thug yanking his head backwards and shoving his poor excuse for a penis into his mouth, making Taylor gag more, his eyes welling up with tears of disgust.
“Suck it or I’ll break another…”
Taylor shook his head weakly, trying to rid himself of the foul smelling body part. Taylor was a proud man. It killed him inside as it was; having to suck cock for a living when he’d rather be sucking one for pleasure. And now here he was having to suck one for no reason at all; except for this thugs desire to feel big about himself. When really he was tiny--penis wise and non.
*SNAP*
This time it was his pinky finger and Taylor screamed around the now hardening prick in his mouth. He gagged once again as the lengthening penis was shoved forcibly down his throat, his head held in place by the harsh grip on his hair.
“Suck!”
The order was thrown at him once again, but Taylor was too busy trying to breath to follow through quickly enough. He couldn’t even manage a scream this time around as his index finger followed his pinky and middle; a gurgling, gagging sound exiting his throat. Taylor’s eyes rolled, his head lolling backwards as he felt himself starting to lose consciousness. His head was jolted with the impact of a resounding slap, his eyelids fluttering weakly against his pale cheeks as the thug started to fuck his mouth ruthlessly, fast, hard and uncompromising.
The only thing that kept Taylor from drifting into darkness and possibly getting knifed was the sound of the fat mans balls slapping against his face. Taylor gagged as he felt the mans cock swell in his mouth and he struggled again, his fear of AIDS pushing him to fight once more; his head trying to move from side to side, to remove the offending body part. His efforts were to no avail as cum spilt forth into his mouth and the man grunted in an almost pig-like manner as he pulled his cock free; laughing at him as he kicked Taylor repeatedly in the stomach, forcing the cum from his mouth in a rush, most of it streaming down his chin to his throat.
“Pay up, Rat, or there’ll be more where THAT came from!”
They left him like that; laying face down on the dark dusty concrete of the alleyway, cum coating his lips and chin, right hand cradled to his chest, the other weakly digging into the dirt below him. Taylor barely uttered a sound as dizziness washed over him and he slowly slipped into the relief of darkness. All pain dispersing into a silent throbbing in his ears.