Boardwalk Empire Fic: "Hole in the Sky" Part 1 (Jimmy/Richard)-NC-17
Title: "Hole in the Sky" Part 1
Fandom: Boardwalk Empire
Word Count: 10,443 between the two parts
Rating: NC-17 for gratuitous amounts of sex
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy/Richard
Disclaimer: I don't own anything BE wise.
Summary: Written for the Boardwalk Empire Kink Meme where the prompt called for a "Crossdressing Jimmy" but it really was a plot bunny of my own as well. *grin* It's an AU-Jimmy is forced to work in a brothel. Richard is a solider trying to get him out...Major h/c ensues!
Sounds filthy but I promise it's really sweet! :)
This is Part 1 out of 2. Part 2 is Here
I really wanted to write some Jimmy/Richard one shots. There will be more to come I'm sure and no I have not forgotten about "Sanctuary"-the last part should be posted soon.
Please don't forget to comment!
Hole in the Sky
Jimmy drapes himself over the window. He watches the lights of the city slowly flicker and die. The setting sun is streaming between two tight clouds that look like a rip in a seam. It’s a hole in the sky. Magnificent orange lights pours through the slotted space and Jimmy imagines a giant needle and thread will close up the sky completely. He smiles a little.
“Starlet! We need you downstairs.”
Jimmy snuffs out his cigarette on the shabby, overflowing ashtray that’s by the sill. He sighs and frowns deeply; his eyes still transfixed to the strange sunset as he fixes his garter. He limps over to the mirror with the huge cracks in it and assesses his face. He touches up his makeup, applying more scarlet lipstick and blush and the madam is still hollering for him downstairs, her shrieking seeming to shake the paint off the decrepit walls.
He pursues his lips together smearing the stain on his lips and glances to the window and the tear that is still lingering in the sky like something obscene but beautiful. He sits on the edge of the small sagging bed, springs digging into his bony bottom and slips on his highest heels. He gets up slowly and teeters the first few steps. He makes his way down stairs to the still bellowing voice of the madam.
* * *
“Where the bloody ‘ell were you?” the madam is shaking with anger, her exposed flabby arms swinging almost mesmerizingly, her many rolls constricted behind her too tight of dress jiggling. Her pupils are blown and Jimmy still can’t figure out what color eyes she has because of the copious amounts of heavy and obscene makeup she uses. Right now her eyes look shit brown and Jimmy suppresses a laugh. He receives a hard slap to the back of his head, hard enough to almost send him toppling to the floor in his precarious heels. He stumbles a step and meets the madam’s bloated, sweaty, quivering face.
“You come when I call you,” and she shoves Jimmy forward a step towards the bar, his heels skittering on ancient floorboards and catching on frayed, worn carpet. The bar is crowded, smoky and stinks of cheap perfume and sweat. Jimmy slinks his way in, slow progress made with the heels. As he crosses the room he spies the usual suspects-businessmen, tycoons, rich fucks with money to burn and angst to take out on someone. His eyes sweep the place, adjusting to the low lamp light and smoke that’s clouding the ceiling. He sees the regulars along with some new blood that don’t look like they have a pot to piss in. Jimmy does his regular routine going on auto pilot like he’s flipping a switch. He circles the room slowly making sure he hikes up his slip a little to show his long legs donned in fishnet and lace. He sees hungry naked eyes flashing in the dim room, lips being licked, tongues darting and wagging out and Jimmy can’t smile.
He spends more time trying to attract one of the rich tycoons. If he wants a bigger tip he’s going to have to work for it. Long eye contact, work the hips, wink, pout, kisses blown and the pinched, lined pocketed mother fuckers aren’t biting, too content with their cigars and swirling their brandy.
Jimmy saunters over to the bar, leaning over it, his one knee bent and his heel is pointed up to the air in a flirty pose. He can’t help but feel defeated but hopeful that someone; at least anyone would catch the hint. Jimmy keeps his focus on the bar, arms crossed, hands on his muscled arms, the thin strap of his slip inching down a little off his one shoulder.
He feels a presence next to him and again he feels like he’s flipping a switch. He plays coy and doesn’t look at them, playing bored and disinterested. Prior experience has taught him that playing hard to get could work with the poorer clients, getting them nice and worked up until they were practically begging for it and throwing more money at him. Jimmy feels a pull of a smile coming on.
“Buy you a drink? Hmph.”
The voice is gruff and garbled, almost muted and swallowed up from the din of the crowded bar. Jimmy has to break his routine and look at the possible client next to him to make sure he heard him correctly. Jimmy almost does a double take. The tall, dark haired man is in uniform. He’s buttoned up to the collar, hat on and black boots shined. Jimmy’s never had a solider before, never had a handsome put together straggler and he feels his cock twitch beneath the thin fabric of the slip. He feels a slight blush forming at his cheeks and he hopes its dark enough in the bar that the solider doesn’t notice.
Jimmy keeps his gaze focused to the many bottles lined behind the bar, shifting his weight in his uncomfortable heels and tries to slow his racing heart. He nods and he hopes that conveys enough of a meaning to the solider. He doesn’t hear anything after a moment and Jimmy thinks that maybe he didn’t hear the solider as there’s a rowdy bunch of businessmen laughing it up loudly in the corner. Jimmy turns his attention to the solider and the solider turns his head to Jimmy giving him his full attention. Jimmy’s throat goes dry as he sees the other half of the man’s face or lack thereof as he’s wearing a mask.
It’s like a hole in the sky.
His heart is still pounding through the thin, silky fabric of the slip and though shocking as it is to see his masked appearance and the man reeks of bad or no money Jimmy is still intrigued. He already is anticipating the soldier’s cock jammed tightly up his ass and Jimmy’s cock twitches again in anticipation.
“Hmm. What would you like Ms…?” the solider with a dark eye and half a face eyes him curiously.
“Starlet. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” it’s harder for him to spit out the right script. It’s hard to remember anything as the solider sidles up closer to Jimmy and he can smell his musky smell and can feel the heat emanating from his tall frame. The soldier’s half a mouth twists up into a little grin and orders them bourbon.
Jimmy reaches behind the bar and snags Franco’s cigarettes. He’s not supposed to do that but he feels he needs to keep his fingers busy and his focus on something else. The solider is producing a lighter and lights the cigarette for Jimmy before Jimmy can really react and the solider is even closer now. “Thank you,” Jimmy mumbles shakily around his cigarette, his body radiating new heat.
They sip bourbon and listen to the gramophone’s tinkering music, the loud sounds of the other patrons, the peels of laughter from the other girls, the raunchy jokes being passed. Jimmy’s supposed to be hanging on the soldier’s arm, supposed to swirl the buttons of his uniform, whisper into his ear, to flirt but something’s different. He only wants to take in the solider and observe him like the hole in sky. He takes a long drag almost burning his fingers from the blunt cigarette and regards him. The soldier is already staring at him and things are definitely very different.
“What’s your name, solider?” At least he has enough sense to stick to that part of the routine.
The soldier smiles delicately. “Richard. Hmm. What’s yours?”
Jimmy’s heart skips a beat and he licks his suddenly dry lips. “It’s Starlet,” he says shakily. He can’t break the madam’s rules however much this stranger is shaking his resolve.
“But I can be whoever you want me to be,” he says it emptily and it’s not convincing in the least.
The soldier, Richard is eyeing him intently and Jimmy realizes Richard hasn’t touched him yet. They always start touching him at this point but Richard hasn’t laid one finger on him. They can always touch when they’re downstairs maybe even fondle but all of the more hard core things need to be taken upstairs and that was house rules but this…
“What’s your real name?”
Jimmy’s eyes go a little wide and his eyes flick to the crowded bar thinking the madam is hiding behind a hidden corner. He rests his gaze back to Richard who’s waiting for him patiently.
“James,” he says quietly under his breath, fear prickling up his spine and Richard smiles.
Richard leans towards him suddenly and brushes some hair back behind Jimmy’s ear freezing Jimmy in place.
“James,” Richard repeats and his eye is soft and half lidded and suddenly it’s too hot in the bar and Jimmy almost wants to break all the rules and lead this man upstairs and let him do whatever he wants for free. Richard retracts and then Jimmy can breathe again and he remembers he’s in a brothel and that his fate is sealed here. He still has to work off his father’s debt.
They gaze at each other and the room is dissolving. The solider with the gruff, broken voice and half a face speaks to him, engages him in conversation and Jimmy’s never had this. Jimmy finds himself leaning towards him, hanging on his every word and it’s not an act this time. How much time passes Jimmy doesn’t know. He doesn’t care he’s not getting paid for this and almost doesn’t care how the madam will react to him not getting any clients. He realizes the din is no longer that and as he regrettably breaks his gaze from the solider and scans the bar he sees that it’s just the two of them. Jimmy’s cheeks flush and the solider is paying Franco and something grips Jimmy’s heart.
“Did you want to…?”
Richard eyes him and smiles. He approaches Jimmy swiftly and cups Jimmy’s chin with his index finger and thumb, sweeping his calloused thumb slowly over Jimmy’s lips, smearing his faded lipstick and making Jimmy shiver.
“I just wanted to buy you a drink. That’s all,” Richard breathes, something sultry and eager in his eyes. Jimmy swallows hugely and nods. He doesn’t want him to leave, doesn’t want him to stop touching him or looking at him. But he releases Jimmy’s face leaving him feeling cold.
Richard smiles and tips his hat to Jimmy and Jimmy watches him leave the empty bar littered with bottles and smoldering ash trays, faint dawn light filtering in through the smeared glass.
Jimmy’s in love with him.
* * *
Dust and smoke filter in through the room mixing in with the faint light coming in through the tattered curtains. Rain gently laps against the dirty window pane.
Jimmy is lying on the sagging bed and springs dig painfully into him as he shifts a little. His ashtray is balanced on his stomach and he’s thumbing through his yellowing copy of “The Tin Solider” with a cigarette between his fingers. He tries not to move. His back feels slightly better but it still burns horribly from the madam’s punishment. Although she never strikes their faces she always claims: “the rest of their bodies are fair game”. It wasn’t pretty when the madam learned Jimmy got not clients that night the half faced solider came in. The madam grabbed the closest thing to her which happened to be a fireplace stoker. For a woman so heavy she moved surprisingly fast and metal was connecting with Jimmy’s spine with a sickening crack before he knew what was happening. She only hit him twice but it was enough. He was only able to give oral to any prospective clients as he was in too much pain.
It had been three days. Jimmy stops reading mid sentence, his attention wandering, resting the book face down open on his chest. He smokes and eyes the water spotted ceiling. The ceiling is sagging and he tries to guess when the water will start dripping on the floor. The whole place is buckling and swelling and when one person moves everyone can feel it. Sometimes when him and the other escorts are all moving about it feels like the whole building shifts under their feet like they are moving as one entity.
Jimmy thinks thoughts like this to keep him alive.
It’s a slow, rainy Tuesday. Like he didn’t already feel trapped enough. He watches smoke collect on the low ceiling and he tries not to think of him. He rubs at and closes his eyes. He’s not sure if he fell asleep or not but he hears floorboards creaking and his body jerks in response, the book sliding off his chest and his eyes snap open.
The soldier is standing dripping wet in his doorway, uniform plastered and sticking to his tall frame. Jimmy nearly loses his full ashtray but catches it before it tips over.
“I just want to talk. Hmph. I’ve paid.”
Jimmy can only blink at him. Certainly it’s his eyes playing tricks on him, consequences of not leaving this place for almost a year. His heart is beating so furiously he doesn’t have any doubts that the solider can see it through the thin material of his undershirt and that thought brings on fresh waves of panic. He isn’t dressed. He’s barefoot wearing his filthiest, tattered trousers and a white, short sleeved undershirt.
Jimmy struggles for breath and Richard takes a step into the room, his brown eye warm and soft. Jimmy is satisfied it isn’t a mirage and he painfully sits up, swings his legs around and gets up slowly trying to hide his slight limp. He had one bad leg from a childhood accident. Him and his friend Al jumped from a barn loft and into what was supposed hay. Jimmy had missed it landing on the barn floor instead, his leg instantly shattered. They couldn’t afford good doctors so it never healed properly. Rain usually brought out the limp more.
The floor is icy on his bare feet and it seems to shoot up straight up to his spin. He tugs his shirt down hoping his bandages aren’t showing and smoothes his hair back. He approaches at the same time Richard does until they meet in the middle of the small room. Richard hasn’t broken his gaze since the moment he walked in and Jimmy feels extremely naked in front of him like this with his rumpled and dirty “off duty” clothes. He plays with the hem of his undershirt and averts his eyes. He listens to the rhythmic rain drumming against the window pane and he feels his heart beat match the rhythm.
“Hmm. How are you?”
Jimmy toes the dusty swollen floorboards and meets his eyes after what feels like a lifetime. Jimmy thinks it’s an absurd question given the circumstances and given where he is. He tries to smile.
“Never better,” he lies. “I…I would have thought you forgot all about me,” he breathes shakily, a half hearted, stupid laugh escaping his lips. He studies his toes. He hears Richard approach closer leaving a trail of water behind. “No. I wouldn’t forget someone like you. Hmm.” Jimmy smiles, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He meets Richard’s eye and he has a feeling that when Richard leaves this time it’ll be even more difficult to watch him go.
He realizes he’s being rude and offers Richard his only chair. He turns and pulls it out from under the dressing table and suddenly there’s a hand on his arm stopping him. For a split second Jimmy wonders if Richard really doesn’t want to “just talk”.
Jimmy’s back is to him and Jimmy peers at Richard from over his shoulder. Richard comes up right behind him lifting up Jimmy’s undershirt and Jimmy can’t breathe. If he didn’t have his hands on the chair like an anchor he wonders if he would have met the floor from his unexpected touch. He feels Richard hike up his undershirt and gently touch at his bandages with his cold fingers. Jimmy’s face burns and he starts to shiver.
“Hmph. What happened? Who did this to you?”
Jimmy looks at him from over his shoulder and he’s so close. Jimmy feels himself swaying a little but Richard’s eye is hard and commanding yet full of concern drawing an answer out of Jimmy.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Richard’s eye sweeps his injuries once more and with a deep sigh he gently rolls his undershirt back down.
Tell me. Hmph.”
Jimmy’s eyes go wide and he turns to face him. He bites his lip and crosses his arms.
“What happens here behind these walls…” Jimmy shakes his head angrily. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand. It’s a society with its own rules,” he shrugs a little. “If we aren’t performing to the madam’s liking…” anger bubbles up to the surface and Jimmy hopes it’s enough of an explanation because he doesn’t want to talk about this shit, his filthy life. Richard shouldn’t be here in this rain soaked, swollen room, in this brothel with sin smeared on every surface. Jimmy hopes he leaves quickly. Seeing him gives him hope and Jimmy doesn’t know how to deal with that. Hope clearly curdles and dies in a place like this.
“You’re not here by choice.”
Jimmy’s eyes snap up to him and Richard is still dripping on the floor, his brown uniform almost looking black from it being so sodden from rain. Jimmy can only nod at him feeling bewildered.
“Hmph. Why are you here then?” the soldier’s voice is always gruff sounding and it’s hard to pinpoint inflection but Jimmy thinks it was supposed to be a gentle question. Jimmy sighs deeply and rubs at his suddenly tired face. He lowers himself to the sagging bed and sits, the question defeating him. Richard sits at the chair facing him. Jimmy clasps his hands between his open legs.
“I don’t think you came here to just ask me about my life.” As much as Jimmy wants this man he doesn’t like his sin exposed and his faults on display. He feels anger at a lot of things but mostly because Richard has to see him this way.
“You’re right.”
“Why are YOU here then?” he echoes the same question back to the solider.
Richard smiles looking about the small shabby room.
“I needed to escape the rain,” he chuckles which sounds as garbled as his speech.
“You’re not here by choice.” Jimmy isn’t really asking it but more stating it. It’s a feeling he got since Richard eyed his injuries the thought growing and it sits heavily on him.
Richard shakes his head. “No. But I do want to be here,” he smiles.
“What….?”
Richard leans forward in his chair suddenly and eyes Jimmy intently making Jimmy’s question die in his throat.
“Hmph. I’m protecting someone’s investment,” his gaze is locked on Jimmy and Jimmy feels himself shrinking like the swelling, saturated old building is actually pressing in at him.
A loud bang on the door makes the situation real again. “Time’s up Mr. Harrow,” the obnoxious, pinched accent of the madam floats in from behind the closed door.
Richard smiles weakly and gets up and Jimmy can only stupidly stare after him. Jimmy’s right it is painfully more difficult to watch the rain drenched solider leave this time leaving him with tons of unanswered questions but most of all hope.
* * *
Dusty low lit chandeliers glitter and tinker from the high ceilings. The ancient floorboards creek and cry under his heels and Jimmy has conflicting feelings. He’s a tumble of emotions. Ever since the solider had come into his life Jimmy holds and captures fleeting feelings of hope inside him like a bird in too small of a cage. It’s frustrating and he’s angry that Richard’s words are burrowing inside him and filling up the holes there. He can almost admit he feels the fluttering of happiness, something he has no right to feel in the place.
It’s someone’s birthday and they’re full to the brim. The brothel is bursting and swelling at the seams, hot sweaty bodies pressed in everywhere like an obscene orgy. The stench of cologne and cigars is palpable. Carefully smoothed back hair, finely pressed suits and flashes of cufflinks whiz past like a blur. Jimmy feels like he’s standing in the eye of a storm, chaos and disorder all around him and he feels helpless to be swept up and carried into it like a piece of debris.
He works the room in his buckled high heels and his silky dress that barely covers his crotch. It showcases his smooth legs in the thigh high garters. They end in lace at the thigh and he wears panties that match. He wears these because he’s supposed to and it attracts more clients thus keeping the madam happy thus Jimmy won’t receive another beating. That is if she tried but Jimmy has a silent protector now. Jimmy’s eyes wander and he tells himself he isn’t searching for him but he is.
Escorts and clients move around him, pushing him and it’s like a school of fish. They’re flooding the place and they seem to move as one. It doesn’t take long before Jimmy has attracted an interested prospect. Jimmy flips the switch, says and does all the right things but his eyes are still scanning the space for him absentmindedly like his body has a will of its own. The rich tycoon’s breath is heavy and thick with booze, a sweet acrid smell from foreign cigarettes expels on Jimmy’s face every time he manages to open his filthy mouth to release a stuttered slur or command. His grubby hands clutch and claw at Jimmy, his long dirty fingernails catch on the silky fabric of his dress and his stockings. He grunts nonsense to Jimmy and after a few moments he’s groping and handling Jimmy a bit roughly and Jimmy whispers to him that they should move this upstairs.
Jimmy’s heart deflates as he supports the almost falling down drunk oaf and leads them to the large entranceway and hall. Jimmy wants to feel numb, wants to disappear inside himself and not feel anything at all. He wants to fold up this life like origami. He wants to keep folding and folding until it’s too small to see and there’s nothing left. He doesn’t want this pathetic, drunk, rich fuck to get his hands on or inside Jimmy. Jimmy doesn’t want to feel or taste his skin or have his cock inside him. Jimmy doesn’t want him to soil him any further.
He’s lost to his own miserable thoughts and trying to maintain some sort of grip on the shitfaced tycoon as they make their way to the stairs. Jimmy almost doesn’t see him for there are escorts and clients everywhere, rushing to the bar area. Jimmy does a double take and spies Richard leaning up against the far wall in the corner deep in shadows. His big hands are shoved deep in his pockets. He’s eyeing Jimmy and there’s a ghost of a smile on the one side of his mouth. Jimmy starts to shiver and he has to refrain from dumping the old sack of shit he’s supporting and go to Richard at once. Jimmy’s lips want to curve up into a smile but he wills them down. He’s working and he tries to remind himself that he’s bitter about not getting any answers from the solider.
The crowd breaks out into a rowdy, off key version of “Happy Birthday”. Explosions of drunken laugher erupt followed by applause and peels of giddy, high pitched noises echo through the place and it’s much too loud. Jimmy and the blado client fumble up the stairs. Jimmy grips the ancient wood railing for support and he feels Richard’s presence at his back, the unmistakable feeling of quiet, strong support. He’s keeping his distance from Jimmy but he’s following them up the stairs slowly and silently and Jimmy feels something stir in his chest.
Jimmy half drags the client to his room with the concave ceiling and sagging bed. He props the client up against the wall. The client’s head is lolling back and he’s laughing like a madman. Jimmy turns to close the door and Richard is standing in the hall, his hands in his pockets again. Jimmy’s heart skips a beat and it takes all his willpower not to close the door, leave the client inside his room to pass out on the floor and find solace in Richard’s embrace. He wants to stand by Richard’s side, to go with him anywhere away from here. Jimmy swallows it down, a heavy lump forming at his throat. Richard’s gaze is warm and Jimmy slowly closes the door on him, on the life he can’t have, his heart shattering into little pieces.
Jimmy tries not to think about Richard standing or meandering through the dirty and dusty halls outside his room as he lets the rich, drunk tycoon have his way with him. Jimmy tries not to imagine Richard pressing his ear up to his door as Jimmy rides the client’s cock. Jimmy tries not to think it’s slightly hot as he imagines Richard is peeping through the key hole and watching as Jimmy slides up and down on the rich fuck’s thick cock, his garter and panties still on but pushed to the side for access. The client clenches and pushes his dirty fingers inside Jimmy’s ass and Jimmy again tries to disappear completely. The client’s mouth is a hideous hole of gregarious, stained teeth and nonsensical noises escape his mouth as Jimmy picks up the pace, fucking himself on the client’s cock and feeling as the client tries to enter his fingers at the same time. And Richard is hearing all this Jimmy thinks. How the client barks out harsh orders and commands, slapping Jimmy’s ass hard enough to leave stinging marks, hollering at Jimmy to go faster, to ride him quicker, making awful grunts and other noises of supposed pleasure as Jimmy does what he’s told. Jimmy’s face has never burned so fiercely or so brightly as he’s forced to do what the client wants, a mere toy to him as Richard listens outside.
Luckily it doesn’t last too long and when the client comes, his thick cock and fingers deep in Jimmy’s ass, expelling his release inside him leaving Jimmy trembling as his own needs are not even taken care of the client screams out, practically shaking the thin walls and immediately shoves Jimmy roughly off of him to the floor like he’s a piece of filthy meat. Jimmy’s body explodes with pain as he hits the floor. Jimmy’s left shaking and crying silently on the dirty floor, cum oozing out of his sensitive, stretched hole. His own half hard on under the lace panties left untouched. He curls into a fetal position, clutching himself, his chest heaving heavy sobs. He rubs his erection against the dirty floor feebly, feeling even filthier and he wants to die.
Jimmy hears movement after a time and the springs in the bed make noises. The client stumbles and steps over Jimmy’s body like he’s unaware of who gave him pleasure only minutes ago. Jimmy can’t move from his balled up position on the floor and he should be used to this-clients having their way with him and not giving a shit if Jimmy gets off, pushing Jimmy away once they are “done” but the feeling this time is intensified because he knows someone’s witnessing this in a sense and Jimmy can’t bear it. He buries his face in his hands and he feels money being tossed on his crumpled form. The client slurs things about how Jimmy: “got what he deserved as he’s a dirty whore” and Jimmy can only keep his face in his hands and try to not to cry again. He’s grateful when he hears the client buckle his pants and leave the room. Jimmy feels he may be able to breathe again.
Jimmy lies there. He’s not sure how long. It could be an eternity. Warm hands are touching him then, gently exploring and Jimmy almost doesn’t want to open his eyes, afraid that it’s the client or another one right away. He feels the warm hands on his gently coaxing his hands away from his face. Jimmy regrettably opens his eyes and it’s the solider. He’s expression is warm yet concerned and Jimmy can’t take it. The looks he’s shooting him and how his hands are so warm and gentle as they inspect Jimmy for what he thinks is for injuries is enough to make his heart ache. Jimmy feels his eyes leaking and Richard mumbles something calm and soothing, scooping Jimmy up in his lap. Richard cradles him and Jimmy clings to him desperately and cries into his chest. Richard runs patient and gentle hands through his hair, massaging his neck and runs his fingers down his spine and Jimmy almost doesn’t feel the burn in his oversensitive ass where cum is still leaking out, his still throbbing half hard on or his battered body as he hit the floor. He only feels Richard’s hands gently roaming over him and he’s never in his life felt so safe.
* * *
Jimmy awakens to his familiar, buckling ceiling, huge water stains that threaten to unleash it’s fury at any moment. His body is aching all over and he knows without looking he has deep bruises on his skin like a reminder. The thin blanket is tucked neatly and precisely around his body up to his chin and Jimmy almost smiles. He didn’t remember the solider putting him to bed. He lies and waits and for what he doesn’t know. He watches the sky outside his window fade to black and he thinks he may be able to do this now, this life since someone is watching over him. He thinks that his soul may not cave in on itself, that his heart won’t be buried because someone is massaging it for him and is helping it beat.
* * *
This goes on for a week. Richard is a silent presence, a quiet bodyguard of sorts as Jimmy works, always following him as closely as he dares without attracting suspicion like a shadow. On particularly slow nights Richard will sit in a booth or table by himself with a glass of bourbon, his body turned towards Jimmy’s direction, his eye never breaking from him. Sometimes Jimmy can’t help but stop and talk to him for a little while, bathe in his warmth and nonjudgmental tones. Richard only cups his chin with his forefinger and thumb and tells him huskily to be safe. Jimmy presses him for information as to why he’s doing all this but Richard only smiles weakly and tells him that the: “answers are coming.” So time drips by slowly, Richard continues to watch over him and thankfully the clients aren’t too rough.
Part 2 is Here
Fandom: Boardwalk Empire
Word Count: 10,443 between the two parts
Rating: NC-17 for gratuitous amounts of sex
Characters/Pairings: Jimmy/Richard
Disclaimer: I don't own anything BE wise.
Summary: Written for the Boardwalk Empire Kink Meme where the prompt called for a "Crossdressing Jimmy" but it really was a plot bunny of my own as well. *grin* It's an AU-Jimmy is forced to work in a brothel. Richard is a solider trying to get him out...Major h/c ensues!
Sounds filthy but I promise it's really sweet! :)
This is Part 1 out of 2. Part 2 is Here
I really wanted to write some Jimmy/Richard one shots. There will be more to come I'm sure and no I have not forgotten about "Sanctuary"-the last part should be posted soon.
Please don't forget to comment!
Hole in the Sky
Jimmy drapes himself over the window. He watches the lights of the city slowly flicker and die. The setting sun is streaming between two tight clouds that look like a rip in a seam. It’s a hole in the sky. Magnificent orange lights pours through the slotted space and Jimmy imagines a giant needle and thread will close up the sky completely. He smiles a little.
“Starlet! We need you downstairs.”
Jimmy snuffs out his cigarette on the shabby, overflowing ashtray that’s by the sill. He sighs and frowns deeply; his eyes still transfixed to the strange sunset as he fixes his garter. He limps over to the mirror with the huge cracks in it and assesses his face. He touches up his makeup, applying more scarlet lipstick and blush and the madam is still hollering for him downstairs, her shrieking seeming to shake the paint off the decrepit walls.
He pursues his lips together smearing the stain on his lips and glances to the window and the tear that is still lingering in the sky like something obscene but beautiful. He sits on the edge of the small sagging bed, springs digging into his bony bottom and slips on his highest heels. He gets up slowly and teeters the first few steps. He makes his way down stairs to the still bellowing voice of the madam.
* * *
“Where the bloody ‘ell were you?” the madam is shaking with anger, her exposed flabby arms swinging almost mesmerizingly, her many rolls constricted behind her too tight of dress jiggling. Her pupils are blown and Jimmy still can’t figure out what color eyes she has because of the copious amounts of heavy and obscene makeup she uses. Right now her eyes look shit brown and Jimmy suppresses a laugh. He receives a hard slap to the back of his head, hard enough to almost send him toppling to the floor in his precarious heels. He stumbles a step and meets the madam’s bloated, sweaty, quivering face.
“You come when I call you,” and she shoves Jimmy forward a step towards the bar, his heels skittering on ancient floorboards and catching on frayed, worn carpet. The bar is crowded, smoky and stinks of cheap perfume and sweat. Jimmy slinks his way in, slow progress made with the heels. As he crosses the room he spies the usual suspects-businessmen, tycoons, rich fucks with money to burn and angst to take out on someone. His eyes sweep the place, adjusting to the low lamp light and smoke that’s clouding the ceiling. He sees the regulars along with some new blood that don’t look like they have a pot to piss in. Jimmy does his regular routine going on auto pilot like he’s flipping a switch. He circles the room slowly making sure he hikes up his slip a little to show his long legs donned in fishnet and lace. He sees hungry naked eyes flashing in the dim room, lips being licked, tongues darting and wagging out and Jimmy can’t smile.
He spends more time trying to attract one of the rich tycoons. If he wants a bigger tip he’s going to have to work for it. Long eye contact, work the hips, wink, pout, kisses blown and the pinched, lined pocketed mother fuckers aren’t biting, too content with their cigars and swirling their brandy.
Jimmy saunters over to the bar, leaning over it, his one knee bent and his heel is pointed up to the air in a flirty pose. He can’t help but feel defeated but hopeful that someone; at least anyone would catch the hint. Jimmy keeps his focus on the bar, arms crossed, hands on his muscled arms, the thin strap of his slip inching down a little off his one shoulder.
He feels a presence next to him and again he feels like he’s flipping a switch. He plays coy and doesn’t look at them, playing bored and disinterested. Prior experience has taught him that playing hard to get could work with the poorer clients, getting them nice and worked up until they were practically begging for it and throwing more money at him. Jimmy feels a pull of a smile coming on.
“Buy you a drink? Hmph.”
The voice is gruff and garbled, almost muted and swallowed up from the din of the crowded bar. Jimmy has to break his routine and look at the possible client next to him to make sure he heard him correctly. Jimmy almost does a double take. The tall, dark haired man is in uniform. He’s buttoned up to the collar, hat on and black boots shined. Jimmy’s never had a solider before, never had a handsome put together straggler and he feels his cock twitch beneath the thin fabric of the slip. He feels a slight blush forming at his cheeks and he hopes its dark enough in the bar that the solider doesn’t notice.
Jimmy keeps his gaze focused to the many bottles lined behind the bar, shifting his weight in his uncomfortable heels and tries to slow his racing heart. He nods and he hopes that conveys enough of a meaning to the solider. He doesn’t hear anything after a moment and Jimmy thinks that maybe he didn’t hear the solider as there’s a rowdy bunch of businessmen laughing it up loudly in the corner. Jimmy turns his attention to the solider and the solider turns his head to Jimmy giving him his full attention. Jimmy’s throat goes dry as he sees the other half of the man’s face or lack thereof as he’s wearing a mask.
It’s like a hole in the sky.
His heart is still pounding through the thin, silky fabric of the slip and though shocking as it is to see his masked appearance and the man reeks of bad or no money Jimmy is still intrigued. He already is anticipating the soldier’s cock jammed tightly up his ass and Jimmy’s cock twitches again in anticipation.
“Hmm. What would you like Ms…?” the solider with a dark eye and half a face eyes him curiously.
“Starlet. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” it’s harder for him to spit out the right script. It’s hard to remember anything as the solider sidles up closer to Jimmy and he can smell his musky smell and can feel the heat emanating from his tall frame. The soldier’s half a mouth twists up into a little grin and orders them bourbon.
Jimmy reaches behind the bar and snags Franco’s cigarettes. He’s not supposed to do that but he feels he needs to keep his fingers busy and his focus on something else. The solider is producing a lighter and lights the cigarette for Jimmy before Jimmy can really react and the solider is even closer now. “Thank you,” Jimmy mumbles shakily around his cigarette, his body radiating new heat.
They sip bourbon and listen to the gramophone’s tinkering music, the loud sounds of the other patrons, the peels of laughter from the other girls, the raunchy jokes being passed. Jimmy’s supposed to be hanging on the soldier’s arm, supposed to swirl the buttons of his uniform, whisper into his ear, to flirt but something’s different. He only wants to take in the solider and observe him like the hole in sky. He takes a long drag almost burning his fingers from the blunt cigarette and regards him. The soldier is already staring at him and things are definitely very different.
“What’s your name, solider?” At least he has enough sense to stick to that part of the routine.
The soldier smiles delicately. “Richard. Hmm. What’s yours?”
Jimmy’s heart skips a beat and he licks his suddenly dry lips. “It’s Starlet,” he says shakily. He can’t break the madam’s rules however much this stranger is shaking his resolve.
“But I can be whoever you want me to be,” he says it emptily and it’s not convincing in the least.
The soldier, Richard is eyeing him intently and Jimmy realizes Richard hasn’t touched him yet. They always start touching him at this point but Richard hasn’t laid one finger on him. They can always touch when they’re downstairs maybe even fondle but all of the more hard core things need to be taken upstairs and that was house rules but this…
“What’s your real name?”
Jimmy’s eyes go a little wide and his eyes flick to the crowded bar thinking the madam is hiding behind a hidden corner. He rests his gaze back to Richard who’s waiting for him patiently.
“James,” he says quietly under his breath, fear prickling up his spine and Richard smiles.
Richard leans towards him suddenly and brushes some hair back behind Jimmy’s ear freezing Jimmy in place.
“James,” Richard repeats and his eye is soft and half lidded and suddenly it’s too hot in the bar and Jimmy almost wants to break all the rules and lead this man upstairs and let him do whatever he wants for free. Richard retracts and then Jimmy can breathe again and he remembers he’s in a brothel and that his fate is sealed here. He still has to work off his father’s debt.
They gaze at each other and the room is dissolving. The solider with the gruff, broken voice and half a face speaks to him, engages him in conversation and Jimmy’s never had this. Jimmy finds himself leaning towards him, hanging on his every word and it’s not an act this time. How much time passes Jimmy doesn’t know. He doesn’t care he’s not getting paid for this and almost doesn’t care how the madam will react to him not getting any clients. He realizes the din is no longer that and as he regrettably breaks his gaze from the solider and scans the bar he sees that it’s just the two of them. Jimmy’s cheeks flush and the solider is paying Franco and something grips Jimmy’s heart.
“Did you want to…?”
Richard eyes him and smiles. He approaches Jimmy swiftly and cups Jimmy’s chin with his index finger and thumb, sweeping his calloused thumb slowly over Jimmy’s lips, smearing his faded lipstick and making Jimmy shiver.
“I just wanted to buy you a drink. That’s all,” Richard breathes, something sultry and eager in his eyes. Jimmy swallows hugely and nods. He doesn’t want him to leave, doesn’t want him to stop touching him or looking at him. But he releases Jimmy’s face leaving him feeling cold.
Richard smiles and tips his hat to Jimmy and Jimmy watches him leave the empty bar littered with bottles and smoldering ash trays, faint dawn light filtering in through the smeared glass.
Jimmy’s in love with him.
* * *
Dust and smoke filter in through the room mixing in with the faint light coming in through the tattered curtains. Rain gently laps against the dirty window pane.
Jimmy is lying on the sagging bed and springs dig painfully into him as he shifts a little. His ashtray is balanced on his stomach and he’s thumbing through his yellowing copy of “The Tin Solider” with a cigarette between his fingers. He tries not to move. His back feels slightly better but it still burns horribly from the madam’s punishment. Although she never strikes their faces she always claims: “the rest of their bodies are fair game”. It wasn’t pretty when the madam learned Jimmy got not clients that night the half faced solider came in. The madam grabbed the closest thing to her which happened to be a fireplace stoker. For a woman so heavy she moved surprisingly fast and metal was connecting with Jimmy’s spine with a sickening crack before he knew what was happening. She only hit him twice but it was enough. He was only able to give oral to any prospective clients as he was in too much pain.
It had been three days. Jimmy stops reading mid sentence, his attention wandering, resting the book face down open on his chest. He smokes and eyes the water spotted ceiling. The ceiling is sagging and he tries to guess when the water will start dripping on the floor. The whole place is buckling and swelling and when one person moves everyone can feel it. Sometimes when him and the other escorts are all moving about it feels like the whole building shifts under their feet like they are moving as one entity.
Jimmy thinks thoughts like this to keep him alive.
It’s a slow, rainy Tuesday. Like he didn’t already feel trapped enough. He watches smoke collect on the low ceiling and he tries not to think of him. He rubs at and closes his eyes. He’s not sure if he fell asleep or not but he hears floorboards creaking and his body jerks in response, the book sliding off his chest and his eyes snap open.
The soldier is standing dripping wet in his doorway, uniform plastered and sticking to his tall frame. Jimmy nearly loses his full ashtray but catches it before it tips over.
“I just want to talk. Hmph. I’ve paid.”
Jimmy can only blink at him. Certainly it’s his eyes playing tricks on him, consequences of not leaving this place for almost a year. His heart is beating so furiously he doesn’t have any doubts that the solider can see it through the thin material of his undershirt and that thought brings on fresh waves of panic. He isn’t dressed. He’s barefoot wearing his filthiest, tattered trousers and a white, short sleeved undershirt.
Jimmy struggles for breath and Richard takes a step into the room, his brown eye warm and soft. Jimmy is satisfied it isn’t a mirage and he painfully sits up, swings his legs around and gets up slowly trying to hide his slight limp. He had one bad leg from a childhood accident. Him and his friend Al jumped from a barn loft and into what was supposed hay. Jimmy had missed it landing on the barn floor instead, his leg instantly shattered. They couldn’t afford good doctors so it never healed properly. Rain usually brought out the limp more.
The floor is icy on his bare feet and it seems to shoot up straight up to his spin. He tugs his shirt down hoping his bandages aren’t showing and smoothes his hair back. He approaches at the same time Richard does until they meet in the middle of the small room. Richard hasn’t broken his gaze since the moment he walked in and Jimmy feels extremely naked in front of him like this with his rumpled and dirty “off duty” clothes. He plays with the hem of his undershirt and averts his eyes. He listens to the rhythmic rain drumming against the window pane and he feels his heart beat match the rhythm.
“Hmm. How are you?”
Jimmy toes the dusty swollen floorboards and meets his eyes after what feels like a lifetime. Jimmy thinks it’s an absurd question given the circumstances and given where he is. He tries to smile.
“Never better,” he lies. “I…I would have thought you forgot all about me,” he breathes shakily, a half hearted, stupid laugh escaping his lips. He studies his toes. He hears Richard approach closer leaving a trail of water behind. “No. I wouldn’t forget someone like you. Hmm.” Jimmy smiles, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. He meets Richard’s eye and he has a feeling that when Richard leaves this time it’ll be even more difficult to watch him go.
He realizes he’s being rude and offers Richard his only chair. He turns and pulls it out from under the dressing table and suddenly there’s a hand on his arm stopping him. For a split second Jimmy wonders if Richard really doesn’t want to “just talk”.
Jimmy’s back is to him and Jimmy peers at Richard from over his shoulder. Richard comes up right behind him lifting up Jimmy’s undershirt and Jimmy can’t breathe. If he didn’t have his hands on the chair like an anchor he wonders if he would have met the floor from his unexpected touch. He feels Richard hike up his undershirt and gently touch at his bandages with his cold fingers. Jimmy’s face burns and he starts to shiver.
“Hmph. What happened? Who did this to you?”
Jimmy looks at him from over his shoulder and he’s so close. Jimmy feels himself swaying a little but Richard’s eye is hard and commanding yet full of concern drawing an answer out of Jimmy.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Richard’s eye sweeps his injuries once more and with a deep sigh he gently rolls his undershirt back down.
Tell me. Hmph.”
Jimmy’s eyes go wide and he turns to face him. He bites his lip and crosses his arms.
“What happens here behind these walls…” Jimmy shakes his head angrily. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand. It’s a society with its own rules,” he shrugs a little. “If we aren’t performing to the madam’s liking…” anger bubbles up to the surface and Jimmy hopes it’s enough of an explanation because he doesn’t want to talk about this shit, his filthy life. Richard shouldn’t be here in this rain soaked, swollen room, in this brothel with sin smeared on every surface. Jimmy hopes he leaves quickly. Seeing him gives him hope and Jimmy doesn’t know how to deal with that. Hope clearly curdles and dies in a place like this.
“You’re not here by choice.”
Jimmy’s eyes snap up to him and Richard is still dripping on the floor, his brown uniform almost looking black from it being so sodden from rain. Jimmy can only nod at him feeling bewildered.
“Hmph. Why are you here then?” the soldier’s voice is always gruff sounding and it’s hard to pinpoint inflection but Jimmy thinks it was supposed to be a gentle question. Jimmy sighs deeply and rubs at his suddenly tired face. He lowers himself to the sagging bed and sits, the question defeating him. Richard sits at the chair facing him. Jimmy clasps his hands between his open legs.
“I don’t think you came here to just ask me about my life.” As much as Jimmy wants this man he doesn’t like his sin exposed and his faults on display. He feels anger at a lot of things but mostly because Richard has to see him this way.
“You’re right.”
“Why are YOU here then?” he echoes the same question back to the solider.
Richard smiles looking about the small shabby room.
“I needed to escape the rain,” he chuckles which sounds as garbled as his speech.
“You’re not here by choice.” Jimmy isn’t really asking it but more stating it. It’s a feeling he got since Richard eyed his injuries the thought growing and it sits heavily on him.
Richard shakes his head. “No. But I do want to be here,” he smiles.
“What….?”
Richard leans forward in his chair suddenly and eyes Jimmy intently making Jimmy’s question die in his throat.
“Hmph. I’m protecting someone’s investment,” his gaze is locked on Jimmy and Jimmy feels himself shrinking like the swelling, saturated old building is actually pressing in at him.
A loud bang on the door makes the situation real again. “Time’s up Mr. Harrow,” the obnoxious, pinched accent of the madam floats in from behind the closed door.
Richard smiles weakly and gets up and Jimmy can only stupidly stare after him. Jimmy’s right it is painfully more difficult to watch the rain drenched solider leave this time leaving him with tons of unanswered questions but most of all hope.
* * *
Dusty low lit chandeliers glitter and tinker from the high ceilings. The ancient floorboards creek and cry under his heels and Jimmy has conflicting feelings. He’s a tumble of emotions. Ever since the solider had come into his life Jimmy holds and captures fleeting feelings of hope inside him like a bird in too small of a cage. It’s frustrating and he’s angry that Richard’s words are burrowing inside him and filling up the holes there. He can almost admit he feels the fluttering of happiness, something he has no right to feel in the place.
It’s someone’s birthday and they’re full to the brim. The brothel is bursting and swelling at the seams, hot sweaty bodies pressed in everywhere like an obscene orgy. The stench of cologne and cigars is palpable. Carefully smoothed back hair, finely pressed suits and flashes of cufflinks whiz past like a blur. Jimmy feels like he’s standing in the eye of a storm, chaos and disorder all around him and he feels helpless to be swept up and carried into it like a piece of debris.
He works the room in his buckled high heels and his silky dress that barely covers his crotch. It showcases his smooth legs in the thigh high garters. They end in lace at the thigh and he wears panties that match. He wears these because he’s supposed to and it attracts more clients thus keeping the madam happy thus Jimmy won’t receive another beating. That is if she tried but Jimmy has a silent protector now. Jimmy’s eyes wander and he tells himself he isn’t searching for him but he is.
Escorts and clients move around him, pushing him and it’s like a school of fish. They’re flooding the place and they seem to move as one. It doesn’t take long before Jimmy has attracted an interested prospect. Jimmy flips the switch, says and does all the right things but his eyes are still scanning the space for him absentmindedly like his body has a will of its own. The rich tycoon’s breath is heavy and thick with booze, a sweet acrid smell from foreign cigarettes expels on Jimmy’s face every time he manages to open his filthy mouth to release a stuttered slur or command. His grubby hands clutch and claw at Jimmy, his long dirty fingernails catch on the silky fabric of his dress and his stockings. He grunts nonsense to Jimmy and after a few moments he’s groping and handling Jimmy a bit roughly and Jimmy whispers to him that they should move this upstairs.
Jimmy’s heart deflates as he supports the almost falling down drunk oaf and leads them to the large entranceway and hall. Jimmy wants to feel numb, wants to disappear inside himself and not feel anything at all. He wants to fold up this life like origami. He wants to keep folding and folding until it’s too small to see and there’s nothing left. He doesn’t want this pathetic, drunk, rich fuck to get his hands on or inside Jimmy. Jimmy doesn’t want to feel or taste his skin or have his cock inside him. Jimmy doesn’t want him to soil him any further.
He’s lost to his own miserable thoughts and trying to maintain some sort of grip on the shitfaced tycoon as they make their way to the stairs. Jimmy almost doesn’t see him for there are escorts and clients everywhere, rushing to the bar area. Jimmy does a double take and spies Richard leaning up against the far wall in the corner deep in shadows. His big hands are shoved deep in his pockets. He’s eyeing Jimmy and there’s a ghost of a smile on the one side of his mouth. Jimmy starts to shiver and he has to refrain from dumping the old sack of shit he’s supporting and go to Richard at once. Jimmy’s lips want to curve up into a smile but he wills them down. He’s working and he tries to remind himself that he’s bitter about not getting any answers from the solider.
The crowd breaks out into a rowdy, off key version of “Happy Birthday”. Explosions of drunken laugher erupt followed by applause and peels of giddy, high pitched noises echo through the place and it’s much too loud. Jimmy and the blado client fumble up the stairs. Jimmy grips the ancient wood railing for support and he feels Richard’s presence at his back, the unmistakable feeling of quiet, strong support. He’s keeping his distance from Jimmy but he’s following them up the stairs slowly and silently and Jimmy feels something stir in his chest.
Jimmy half drags the client to his room with the concave ceiling and sagging bed. He props the client up against the wall. The client’s head is lolling back and he’s laughing like a madman. Jimmy turns to close the door and Richard is standing in the hall, his hands in his pockets again. Jimmy’s heart skips a beat and it takes all his willpower not to close the door, leave the client inside his room to pass out on the floor and find solace in Richard’s embrace. He wants to stand by Richard’s side, to go with him anywhere away from here. Jimmy swallows it down, a heavy lump forming at his throat. Richard’s gaze is warm and Jimmy slowly closes the door on him, on the life he can’t have, his heart shattering into little pieces.
Jimmy tries not to think about Richard standing or meandering through the dirty and dusty halls outside his room as he lets the rich, drunk tycoon have his way with him. Jimmy tries not to imagine Richard pressing his ear up to his door as Jimmy rides the client’s cock. Jimmy tries not to think it’s slightly hot as he imagines Richard is peeping through the key hole and watching as Jimmy slides up and down on the rich fuck’s thick cock, his garter and panties still on but pushed to the side for access. The client clenches and pushes his dirty fingers inside Jimmy’s ass and Jimmy again tries to disappear completely. The client’s mouth is a hideous hole of gregarious, stained teeth and nonsensical noises escape his mouth as Jimmy picks up the pace, fucking himself on the client’s cock and feeling as the client tries to enter his fingers at the same time. And Richard is hearing all this Jimmy thinks. How the client barks out harsh orders and commands, slapping Jimmy’s ass hard enough to leave stinging marks, hollering at Jimmy to go faster, to ride him quicker, making awful grunts and other noises of supposed pleasure as Jimmy does what he’s told. Jimmy’s face has never burned so fiercely or so brightly as he’s forced to do what the client wants, a mere toy to him as Richard listens outside.
Luckily it doesn’t last too long and when the client comes, his thick cock and fingers deep in Jimmy’s ass, expelling his release inside him leaving Jimmy trembling as his own needs are not even taken care of the client screams out, practically shaking the thin walls and immediately shoves Jimmy roughly off of him to the floor like he’s a piece of filthy meat. Jimmy’s body explodes with pain as he hits the floor. Jimmy’s left shaking and crying silently on the dirty floor, cum oozing out of his sensitive, stretched hole. His own half hard on under the lace panties left untouched. He curls into a fetal position, clutching himself, his chest heaving heavy sobs. He rubs his erection against the dirty floor feebly, feeling even filthier and he wants to die.
Jimmy hears movement after a time and the springs in the bed make noises. The client stumbles and steps over Jimmy’s body like he’s unaware of who gave him pleasure only minutes ago. Jimmy can’t move from his balled up position on the floor and he should be used to this-clients having their way with him and not giving a shit if Jimmy gets off, pushing Jimmy away once they are “done” but the feeling this time is intensified because he knows someone’s witnessing this in a sense and Jimmy can’t bear it. He buries his face in his hands and he feels money being tossed on his crumpled form. The client slurs things about how Jimmy: “got what he deserved as he’s a dirty whore” and Jimmy can only keep his face in his hands and try to not to cry again. He’s grateful when he hears the client buckle his pants and leave the room. Jimmy feels he may be able to breathe again.
Jimmy lies there. He’s not sure how long. It could be an eternity. Warm hands are touching him then, gently exploring and Jimmy almost doesn’t want to open his eyes, afraid that it’s the client or another one right away. He feels the warm hands on his gently coaxing his hands away from his face. Jimmy regrettably opens his eyes and it’s the solider. He’s expression is warm yet concerned and Jimmy can’t take it. The looks he’s shooting him and how his hands are so warm and gentle as they inspect Jimmy for what he thinks is for injuries is enough to make his heart ache. Jimmy feels his eyes leaking and Richard mumbles something calm and soothing, scooping Jimmy up in his lap. Richard cradles him and Jimmy clings to him desperately and cries into his chest. Richard runs patient and gentle hands through his hair, massaging his neck and runs his fingers down his spine and Jimmy almost doesn’t feel the burn in his oversensitive ass where cum is still leaking out, his still throbbing half hard on or his battered body as he hit the floor. He only feels Richard’s hands gently roaming over him and he’s never in his life felt so safe.
* * *
Jimmy awakens to his familiar, buckling ceiling, huge water stains that threaten to unleash it’s fury at any moment. His body is aching all over and he knows without looking he has deep bruises on his skin like a reminder. The thin blanket is tucked neatly and precisely around his body up to his chin and Jimmy almost smiles. He didn’t remember the solider putting him to bed. He lies and waits and for what he doesn’t know. He watches the sky outside his window fade to black and he thinks he may be able to do this now, this life since someone is watching over him. He thinks that his soul may not cave in on itself, that his heart won’t be buried because someone is massaging it for him and is helping it beat.
* * *
This goes on for a week. Richard is a silent presence, a quiet bodyguard of sorts as Jimmy works, always following him as closely as he dares without attracting suspicion like a shadow. On particularly slow nights Richard will sit in a booth or table by himself with a glass of bourbon, his body turned towards Jimmy’s direction, his eye never breaking from him. Sometimes Jimmy can’t help but stop and talk to him for a little while, bathe in his warmth and nonjudgmental tones. Richard only cups his chin with his forefinger and thumb and tells him huskily to be safe. Jimmy presses him for information as to why he’s doing all this but Richard only smiles weakly and tells him that the: “answers are coming.” So time drips by slowly, Richard continues to watch over him and thankfully the clients aren’t too rough.
Part 2 is Here