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Title:Do It Like A Whore (Just Business) Chapter 2
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG-13 this chapter, NC-17 later
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows the RIAA wants me more for the 13,000 songs on my computer...
Writing archive found at love_sex_angst
Chapter 1
I continued sitting at his table alone, just lost in my own thoughts before he came to the open doorframe and leaned on it. "Sorry, I'm really not much of a cook, but I - "
"Why are you doing this?" I suddenly asked him. "When you pick up a hooker you're not supposed to cook them dinner!" I seemed almost frantic though I can't say exactly why, I could sense he wouldn't hurt me but something still seemed so off. "You're just supposed to pick them up, fuck them and throw them back out on the curb!"
He looked at me, seeming almost hurt, yet mostly confused. "I know what you're supposed to do with a hooker. But honestly? I don't know. I'm paying you for your company at the moment, and I figured it would be a nice thing to do."
"But I'm a hooker," I emphasized to him, motioning down my thinly clad body. His eyes followed my motions and then met my eyes again as he shrugged.
"You're still human and you still need to eat."
I attempted to force down the small tinge of a smile that rose to my lips at his general answer. Just the fact that he recognized me as a human was slightly refreshing... but unnerving at the same time. I wasn't used to this in the least; most men I dealt with were desensitized, and just wanted to get me in and out as quick as possible.
I looked up to see him give me one last indescriptive look before turning back into the kitchen, and I let out a slight sigh.
Why does he have to be so nice? I'm not used to it.
A short while later, he was bringing in two plates piled high with spaghetti; I attempted to contain myself, but as I stated, business had been scarce, so as soon as it was set in front of me, I picked up my fork and began scarfing it down like I hadn't eaten in days; truth is, it had been awhile since I'd eaten and I couldn't really pinpoint my last meal in the blur of blocked out images that was my life.
I looked up through a full bite to see him looking at me with a slight smile on his face.
"See, I told you you were hungry," he stated simply before eating again.
Ignoring his statement I returned to eating, finishing my plate soon; he insisted on seconds but I declined; I wanted to get this over with.
"Are we going to do this, or what?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Do what?" he seemed genuinely clueless, raising his eyebrow at me; I shook my head.
"What I do! What people pick me up for! Or did you waste my night with seventy dollars and a dinner - I appreciate it, but it takes more to live than that!"
His jaw set and he seemed almost angered, causing me to cower slightly; he was definitely a better build than me and I had little doubts that he could beat me and kill me if he so wished it.
"I'm going to pay you for your fucking time, Jesus!" he practically shouted. "I'm sorry I'm actually being a fucking nice guy! Do you just want me to rip your pants off, hand you some more bills, stuff it in and then kick you out the fucking door? Is that what you fucking want? If that was really all you could've wanted, you should've just fucking said something earlier, you know, you fucking whore!" he reached down to start undoing his belt buckle, and my lip started trembling at the sound of the metal clinking; before he had even undone it, I was in full hysterics, sinking down onto the floor.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don't fucking cry.
He was standing over me, unsure of what to do, refastening his belt before he bent down and tried to take me into his arms; I resisted.
"No! Don't touch me! I don't even deserve to be fucking touched! That's all I am, a fucking whore. I'm just a fucking whore, and I'm such an asshole... fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be fucking crying, god damn it I'm so fucking stupid."
He continued fighting with me until I finally collapsed against his chest still crying lightly and he hugged me tightly, one hand moving up to stroke through my tangled hair. "Shhh, you're not stupid. Geez, everybody fucking cries you know... c'mon, let's get you up off this floor, man, don't worry about it, I didn't mean it."
I allowed him to guide me to the living room, to the couch, where he sat down and pulled me to his chest, caressing me with nonsexual comforting touches I couldn't remember the last time I'd received. I continued crying, unable to stop the tears; tears for everything that I'd blocked out to make this life livable.
He didn't say anything except for the occasional quieting "Shhh" as he continued stroking my hair until I finally gained control of myself.
What kind of fucking person am I?
He lifted me from his chest and held me upright at arms length. "You okay?"
I nodded my head even though everything inside me screamed the opposite; and for the first time, I just wanted out of a place, even if I didn't get any money.
"I need to go," I muttered, feeling fully ashamed of the way I was acting in front of this man I'd met just over an hour before; a man who actually attempted to be kind, and had watched me fuck it all up. "I need to go home."
He bit his lip and then nodded, standing up and motioning for me to follow him.
Back in the car we drove back to the street where he'd picked me in silence; as we pulled up and I attempted to force watery smile, and he just nodded, reaching out a hand to push back a few locks of my hair. "Oh," he said suddenly, reaching into his pocket and retrieving another bill; I didn't even look at what it was, I only pushed his hand away.
"No, I don't deserve your money... I'm gonna go. I'm sorry," and then I climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut against his protests.
There was a pause as I stepped onto the curb; I could feel his eyes on me even through the tinted windows before he finally drove away.
I felt tears well up in my eyes again as I watched his car turn at the far end of the street and speed off, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd messed up.
There goes the best guy I'd probably ever meet in this fucking position... and I just let him leave like that...
His taillights were long gone before I finally turned towards home, curling into myself to block out the chilly wind, reprimanding myself for even thinking such things.
Nothing would have happened... he just has half a heart. There was nothing else to it.
Nothing else.
It's just business.
*-*-*-*
A/N: Well, there's that chapter. Still up to your liking? Let me know!
And no, this is no where near the end, in case you're wondering!
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG-13 this chapter, NC-17 later
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows the RIAA wants me more for the 13,000 songs on my computer...
Writing archive found at love_sex_angst
Chapter 1
I continued sitting at his table alone, just lost in my own thoughts before he came to the open doorframe and leaned on it. "Sorry, I'm really not much of a cook, but I - "
"Why are you doing this?" I suddenly asked him. "When you pick up a hooker you're not supposed to cook them dinner!" I seemed almost frantic though I can't say exactly why, I could sense he wouldn't hurt me but something still seemed so off. "You're just supposed to pick them up, fuck them and throw them back out on the curb!"
He looked at me, seeming almost hurt, yet mostly confused. "I know what you're supposed to do with a hooker. But honestly? I don't know. I'm paying you for your company at the moment, and I figured it would be a nice thing to do."
"But I'm a hooker," I emphasized to him, motioning down my thinly clad body. His eyes followed my motions and then met my eyes again as he shrugged.
"You're still human and you still need to eat."
I attempted to force down the small tinge of a smile that rose to my lips at his general answer. Just the fact that he recognized me as a human was slightly refreshing... but unnerving at the same time. I wasn't used to this in the least; most men I dealt with were desensitized, and just wanted to get me in and out as quick as possible.
I looked up to see him give me one last indescriptive look before turning back into the kitchen, and I let out a slight sigh.
Why does he have to be so nice? I'm not used to it.
A short while later, he was bringing in two plates piled high with spaghetti; I attempted to contain myself, but as I stated, business had been scarce, so as soon as it was set in front of me, I picked up my fork and began scarfing it down like I hadn't eaten in days; truth is, it had been awhile since I'd eaten and I couldn't really pinpoint my last meal in the blur of blocked out images that was my life.
I looked up through a full bite to see him looking at me with a slight smile on his face.
"See, I told you you were hungry," he stated simply before eating again.
Ignoring his statement I returned to eating, finishing my plate soon; he insisted on seconds but I declined; I wanted to get this over with.
"Are we going to do this, or what?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Do what?" he seemed genuinely clueless, raising his eyebrow at me; I shook my head.
"What I do! What people pick me up for! Or did you waste my night with seventy dollars and a dinner - I appreciate it, but it takes more to live than that!"
His jaw set and he seemed almost angered, causing me to cower slightly; he was definitely a better build than me and I had little doubts that he could beat me and kill me if he so wished it.
"I'm going to pay you for your fucking time, Jesus!" he practically shouted. "I'm sorry I'm actually being a fucking nice guy! Do you just want me to rip your pants off, hand you some more bills, stuff it in and then kick you out the fucking door? Is that what you fucking want? If that was really all you could've wanted, you should've just fucking said something earlier, you know, you fucking whore!" he reached down to start undoing his belt buckle, and my lip started trembling at the sound of the metal clinking; before he had even undone it, I was in full hysterics, sinking down onto the floor.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don't fucking cry.
He was standing over me, unsure of what to do, refastening his belt before he bent down and tried to take me into his arms; I resisted.
"No! Don't touch me! I don't even deserve to be fucking touched! That's all I am, a fucking whore. I'm just a fucking whore, and I'm such an asshole... fuck, I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be fucking crying, god damn it I'm so fucking stupid."
He continued fighting with me until I finally collapsed against his chest still crying lightly and he hugged me tightly, one hand moving up to stroke through my tangled hair. "Shhh, you're not stupid. Geez, everybody fucking cries you know... c'mon, let's get you up off this floor, man, don't worry about it, I didn't mean it."
I allowed him to guide me to the living room, to the couch, where he sat down and pulled me to his chest, caressing me with nonsexual comforting touches I couldn't remember the last time I'd received. I continued crying, unable to stop the tears; tears for everything that I'd blocked out to make this life livable.
He didn't say anything except for the occasional quieting "Shhh" as he continued stroking my hair until I finally gained control of myself.
What kind of fucking person am I?
He lifted me from his chest and held me upright at arms length. "You okay?"
I nodded my head even though everything inside me screamed the opposite; and for the first time, I just wanted out of a place, even if I didn't get any money.
"I need to go," I muttered, feeling fully ashamed of the way I was acting in front of this man I'd met just over an hour before; a man who actually attempted to be kind, and had watched me fuck it all up. "I need to go home."
He bit his lip and then nodded, standing up and motioning for me to follow him.
Back in the car we drove back to the street where he'd picked me in silence; as we pulled up and I attempted to force watery smile, and he just nodded, reaching out a hand to push back a few locks of my hair. "Oh," he said suddenly, reaching into his pocket and retrieving another bill; I didn't even look at what it was, I only pushed his hand away.
"No, I don't deserve your money... I'm gonna go. I'm sorry," and then I climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut against his protests.
There was a pause as I stepped onto the curb; I could feel his eyes on me even through the tinted windows before he finally drove away.
I felt tears well up in my eyes again as I watched his car turn at the far end of the street and speed off, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd messed up.
There goes the best guy I'd probably ever meet in this fucking position... and I just let him leave like that...
His taillights were long gone before I finally turned towards home, curling into myself to block out the chilly wind, reprimanding myself for even thinking such things.
Nothing would have happened... he just has half a heart. There was nothing else to it.
Nothing else.
It's just business.
*-*-*-*
A/N: Well, there's that chapter. Still up to your liking? Let me know!
And no, this is no where near the end, in case you're wondering!