|Wait and Hope
Author: CaideSin PM
Sora is the pretentious prince of Coolsville and the whores ain't goin' home 'til six in the morn. Soracentric. Het, Slash, Femslash. AU.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Sora - Chapters: 15 - Words: 55,535 - Reviews: 48 - Favs: 40 - Follows: 36 - Updated: 06-27-09 - Published: 02-03-07 - id: 3374805
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
If you are not familiar with one of the fandoms, please do not concern yourself. Plots are explained, and recognition of cameos is not necessary.
Kingdom Hearts/Firefly/Serenity/Gankutsuou/The Count of Monte Cristo/Memoirs of a Geisha/Final Fantasy (VII, VIII, X, others)
Rated for: prostitution, rape, profanity, violence
Sora looks at the man directly. "Not faster than this."
"But... it isn't just him. He may not take to you and once you've sold yourself here, you stay." Leon motions vaguely at the building looming over them. They're in front of one of the most famous Eastern Space brothels... ever. Her name is the Castle and she's situated high and mighty and bright, right in the middle of Xining, glimmering right off the lake. She's a shiny one, made to look as if she's built of wood like in the old days. Her windows display holographs of a lively bar, but that's just a front for the main room. As you go up in the Castle there's a whole set of whores in every shape and size and species, but the real prize are the Thirteen beauties held like a collection at the tiptop.
A normal workingman would have to pay his wages for years to get even a second of their time. Everyone from here to Paris knows their faces and most men in the galaxy secretly own at least one of the magazines, even the most adamant of heterosexuals. Nowhere are there men more beautiful, not anywhere. They're like celebrities, the constant eye of gossip columns and talk shows. Hell, there are ill-advised billboards broadcasting their faces up and down the front and sides and on the roof of the Castle. Everyone knows their faces.
However, they aren't what Sora is aiming for. Sora is aiming for one man in particular, or more accurately, that man's concubine. Sora has followed this creature everywhere since a chance meeting at the Paris Opera gave way to a glimpse of gemlike eyes, delicately pointed ears and frostblue skin. This beauty had certainly looked regal and, after the Morcerf scandal, Sora had discovered that he was the Pasha of Janina's son. Royalty indeed.
"Thank you for your concern, Leon." Leon is just a space pirate he'd caught a ride with. Sora has never traveled through Eastern Space before and he'd needed a guide, but now he's here, it's irrelevant that Leon's been a good friend. "I am doing this."
Leon makes an exasperated sound and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. It's so rutting cold in Eastern Space this time of year. He wants to go back to Paris but he doesn't want to just leave Sora.
Because this plan is stupid.
"How do you think you're going to do this? Are you stupid? The boss doesn't just… Gah." Leon knows the Count. Most of the pirates in this area know the Count, because he's not like most of the guys with money. As long as you don't kill anyone innocent, the Count is at your back in the free-space. If you're an especially good boy, you've got Luigi Vampa and his gang at your back too. That's an extra special treat.
"I'll see you, Leon," Sora says resolutely and walks on. The doors give a pressurized hiss after him, leaving Leon with only one image imprinted into his retinas. Colors, colors, lights, lights, and legs, baby, legs.
Sora steps inside and is accosted within seconds by the low class strippers who just want to be looked at, not touched. Can't damage the wares, baby, and that's why they don't reach for him either. That's why they just smile and ask if he needs anything.
"I'm looking for a job application," he laughs and moves farther away from them, getting out from the circle of entrapment with all the silky smiles and delicate alien beauty mixing it up like a cocktail with some classic human on the side.
They don't seem to take his meaning for a second, so he's more straightforward with them, just barely beating down a blush. "I'm looking to… ah… rent."
They giggle and titter nervously and point him down another hall, and that must mean something, because if he were too ugly they would have just pointed to the exit. Sora knows he's got that going for him, at least. He's cute: baby face, round cheeks, big eyes, but he's been learning how to fence since before he could walk, so, he's nothing but sleek muscle under an innocent façade.
The hall leads straight to a glass elevator, which takes him up, up and to the side a ways, flashing him with scandalous images of the pretty that awaits at the very top of the building. There are actually two doors on this elevator and Sora kind of wonders where the other one goes. He figures it isn't a good time to investigate. He just waits, catching eyefuls of someone's long, naked legs in the holographs, and waiting for that beloved little ping that will tell him he can escape.
When it comes, it sounds suspiciously like an orgasmic little sigh and Sora has to remind himself just where he is, as in the most famous bordello in the galaxy. Of course their elevator makes sex noises and has subliminal pinups in the holographic windows.
The room he emerges into from the elevator is blindingly white and clean and perfect, as if that's supposed to be chaste enough to make up for the filth in the rest of the place by force of will alone. Sora just keeps ambling along, right up to the desk. A woman waits there. Her skin and hair and eyes are dark and she looks out of place in this room and in her stiff, office-appropriate white dress. She sits behind a big colorless desk, and, when she sees him, moves aside her panel to accommodate him. She continues to type with one hand, but is at least looking at him.
"Here to sign up? Fill out this form." She hits a few more keys on her console and sends the thing floating over to him. He takes up the generated form and the flickering holo-pen and sets about filling it out. The questions aren't too difficult. Name, age, are you diseased, will you submit to a physical, etc; he fills it out quickly, omitting in a few uncomfortably invasive places.
The dark lady—Romanian Space, perhaps?—takes it back, sliding it with a fluid pop of shared information into her console. She glances up at him through its translucent display and then motions to another door at her right.
"Doctor is in there, take off your clothes and wait, if you're too embarrassed to wait naked, you're not cut out for this line of work, thank you, have a nice day."
The Doctor and his office look more like a whore and a lounge, in all honesty. Which is exactly what it is, Sora discovers. He recognizes Vexen as one of the Thirteen and squirms as the man prods and pokes him and sticks something hard up his ass and asks him vague questions with irrelevant answers.
In the end, Vexen turns his face from side to side. That's the final test.
"You'll be on the Second floor."
Sora has no idea what that means, not at all. All he figures is that he's gotten in and now all he has to do is keep climbing up. Two is higher than One, right?
Suddenly, the finality of all this hits him, taking the form of his clothing, which is gone for good, he's seriously not getting it back.
Vexen wanders around in his mockery of a lab coat, which is really kinky, the buckles clinking. Sora almost feels embarrassed when he feels a twitch of arousal until he remembers where he is. Vexen gives him a thin smile and motions to another door, making Sora feel like a particularly dimwitted lab rat.
"Through there, if you don't mind," Vexen instructs and off Sora goes.
The Second floor is an advantageous place for Sora to land. And it isn't exactly the Second 'floor'. The First 'floor' is where the cheap, common, trashy, possibly diseased, kids go. The Third is where the best, the Thirteen, the beauties, the brightest—all that and more—go. So, the Second is somewhere in between. It's really just a series of dorm levels made up with delusions of grandeur; and looking at how nice this place is Sora considers about how much better the Third floor must be and how much worse for the First.
The Third floor… Sora knows he has to get in good with one of those Thirteen beauties and he thinks, if all else fails, he can try it with the doctor, but he'd rather not. He'd grown up in the Paris aristocracy, but he'd usually been too busy fencing to interact with the others his age, like Morcerf and Danglars. That'd all changed after he'd met Riku. Now he intends to put his cultured upbringing to proper use. He's going to worm his way up the ladder if it's the last thing he does, because he's tried everything else. The Count of Monte Cristo: friendly with pirates, but not so much with worthless aristocrat boys who want to court his beloved son.
The Thirteen are whores and escorts. Sora knows for a fact the Count and his Prince never have enough people in their fanciful entourage these days. Since leaving Paris, the Count has disappeared behind a veil of silks and decadence. It's a safe bet the two of them will eventually cross paths in the coming months, especially of Riku really intends to take up the Janina throne. He'll need attractive filler at his parties, holographs only do so much.
Someone comes along and grabs Sora by the arm, tugging.
"You new? Come on, you have to talk with Rude."
Sora looks over, startled, and there's a redhead in a suit pulling him along down the halls.
"How old are you?" the man wonders, not turning to look at him, just dragging.
"I filled out the form."
"Form doesn't mean anything, how old are you?"
"Twenty-two, blue eyes, brown hair, short… You fence? Great wonderful, yo."
They stop in front of a faux-wood door and the man shoves him inside, making Sora stumble. He's in another office, this one lined with filing cabinets and with flickering holo-monitors floating all over. There's a man in there, somewhere. Behind all the screens.
The door shuts behind him and Sora's head is kind of starting to whirl.
"So, you check out," a voice says absentmindedly. A chair wheels to one side, forcing open one of the great metal filing cabinets. A series of tabs jump to attention, excitedly dancing out a programmed little animation, waiting to be selected. "Right, we're gonna have to go over some things."
Sora shifts awkwardly and wonders if he should take a seat, but Rude just keeps going, pulling out a long document. He sends it shooting over toward Sora in a stream of static.
"I hope you know how to read, though it isn't a requirement. Anyways, what this contract says is: you're selling services, being yourself, to us. Meaning, we own you. Meaning, we will be branding you. If that's an issue, please get out of my office. In return for this sale, you are purchasing a room here at the Castle, as well as meals and health care. All your profits will be going to us, however, if a customer leaves you with a tip, such as jewelry or coin, etcetera, you may keep that for yourself. The property is allowed to buy themselves back and is, if the price is right, allowed to be bought. Please take that into consideration before you sign the contract… Reno will arrange which dormitory you'll be living in, if you have a problem boarding with other species, that's just too damn bad."
Sora boggles for a moment, staring at the contract and wondering if it really says all that, but Rude is looking up at him over his sunglasses. He's bald and all the screens shining off his head magnifies his absolute impatience, like he can't believe Sora is really going to try and read the contract. For one whole second, Sora begins to reconsider this and remembers how Leon had told him this was stupid. Rude reminds him very much a man he'd known while in Paris. Bertuccio: steward to the Count of Monte Cristo and dear friend of Riku Tebelin. Sora is then helpless but to think of Riku… the alluring way he walks and…
His signature is bold and attractive—Sora Donatien Roy Favreau. He hopes the name doesn't mean a thing to Rude and he hopes his father doesn't come looking for him. Rude doesn't even glance at the contract. He just stuffs it back into the filing cabinet and goes back to what he was doing.
"Reno!" He shouts when Sora doesn't get up and leave. The door opens and the redhead with the weird things on his face… He's from Northern Space, Sora realizes with revulsion, so close to the Reavers you can taste it. Sora, with his years of good breeding, winces back from the barbarian, but gets dragged along nonetheless.
"Right, you're going to be in a male-mixed lodge with people around your age, mostly brunets and blue-eyes. I think there's one or two chameleons and a tenti."
The hall is bustling, people running back and forth in various states of costumed and undress. Sora is reminded of just how naked he is. Reno holds on at his elbow steadily, though on the way, he pauses several times to flirt with the girls and boys. Some of them flush, some of them playfully push him aside and one furious girl smacks him. Sora laughs and Reno casts him an excited glance.
"So, once you're a worker…" the man begins to offer, causing Sora to freeze up. He wracks his brain and tries not to sound like a poncy little aristocrat who runs to daddy every time one of his plans blows up in his face. Like it's about to, because he is going to have to have sex with people.
"Once I'm a worker you'll have to pay for it," Sora gets out, fighting down his flush. Reno takes that in all the wrong-best-ways and pushes Sora in all his naked glory up against the wall. People trying to get past them in the hallway complain loudly, but Reno lets it wash over him like so much mist.
"Are you saying, if I want a piece of you, it should be now?" He's got this tilting grin that sort of makes Sora sweat and laugh nervously.
"No," Sora manages. "I'm saying I wouldn't sleep with you unless you paid me."
Reno doesn't seem offended at all and someone gives the redhead a consolatory slap on the back, laughing loudly.
"Well, maybe I'll find a way to change your tune," Reno hums, and then pulls him along by the elbow again.
They finally enter another of the rooms; this one is small and definitely has only one purpose. It's the branding room. Sora wishes this weren't necessary.
"So, where do you want this?" Reno inquires pleasantly, milling around, opening cabinets and drawers, grabbing pads full of numbing agents, clicking on the brand and twirling it menacingly.
"This is barbaric," Sora says before he can stop his mouth.
"Well, little prince, you signed the contract," the redhead reminds him. "If you don't like it, we sell you off to one of the places down on Peking Street and they won't treat you half so nice."
Sora rubs his arms, finding his resolve, somehow. "Somewhere I can hide it later?"
"Think you're leaving here, yo?" Reno grins and then shakes his head. "Alright, how about the back of your neck, in the hairline? It'll only be noticeable for a while." He rubs down the brand and Sora thinks it's alcohol until Reno tells him otherwise. "The brand is for other people's reference, the Castle is actually putting some nano-bugs into your body. That's how we keep track of you. Not that you look like a runner?"
He fixes Sora with a really, very menacing stare. There's a little too much Reaver madness in those eyes. Sora shakes his head and Reno returns to his smiling self.
"Good, because I'm the one who has to chase you idiots down when you get it in your head to break your contract. Not that I don't have fun giving you a good shock with the baton, but it ruins the flow of business, yo."
Sora just nods compliantly, eyeing the man warily. Reno reaches over, pulling Sora so he's half bent over. The brunet feels something cold on the back of his neck and then doesn't feel anything at all and he only smells the burning hair when Reno presses the seal to his skin.
Then he's let up and Reno is sort of whistling as he cleans everything up, putting things back in their rightful place. Sora sends his hand back to touch the sear, it feels warm on his fingers but it's still numb.
"Do you do this often?" the newest addition to the Castle wonders.
The redhead turns toward him. "No, we get a new kid maybe once every few months. Well, a Second floor kid. We get First floor kids all the time; a lot of them don't last long, though. They run—thank God I'm not in charge of them—or they're sold off to Peking Street." Sora seems confused and Reno laughs. "This is the Castle, kid. We've got some pretty high standards. Everyone has been judging you: the girls out front, Esmeralda, even Vexen and Rude."
Sora blanches. "You too, I bet."
"Well, yeah," Reno purrs. His hands are being too friendly, so Sora draws back a pace. "And you better get over that quick, people are gonna touch you around here."
"Yeah, I get that," Sora murmurs. "It's a brothel, I just don't want you to touch me." It comes out more frightened and less snide than he would have hoped. Reno gets it though; he just looses a bark of laughter and heads for the door.
"Well, I'm going to get you settled and then you probably won't have to deal with me again, unless you want to." Reno has enough sluts, Sora knows, and therefore he does not respond.
They take another of the glass elevators and Sora feels like he'll go into a seizure from watching the holographic images flashing by.
"So, do we ever see them?" he motions towards the windows.
Reno takes his meaning and shrugs. "Sometimes. Maybe, it depends. Some of them are friendly, some of them are shy, and some of them are assholes. Demyx and Axel come down and hang out with the younger ones. Larxene has this class she gives to the girls on self-defense and, uh, if Luxord feels like it, he comes and plays cards with me and Rude."
He eyes Sora as if he knows something. "Is that why you're here, yo?" Reno asks, he's so close to laughing again. "Fall in love with one of their pretty faces? Who is it, Xigbar?" Reno is snickering flat out. Xigbar is a special one; he isn't some pretty little whore to be taken. He's got a muscled veteran look with the scars of his craft and a missing eye as his merit. He's the type who gives out and is the type who would be requested by craven businessmen looking for dominance play. Sometimes by fancy ladies who dress him up in foreign uniforms for something even more depraved.
"It isn't one of them," Sora sneers, crossing his arms moodily. Reno thinks he looks pretty damn good when he's being petulant. "It's… someone they know."
Since Riku left Paris, Sora has seen a multitude of pictures of the Prince and the Count and the various members of the Castle Thirteen. Parties, festivals, dinners, theatres. Sora knows… he just knows, if he can get close to one of them, just one, he will be able to see Riku. That's all it will take.
Reno's stopped laughing and the elevator opens. "Uh, look, maybe wipe that from your head. I… it's really not worth it, whoever this is."
"How would you know?" Sora raises his eyebrow. "I'm not asking you to help me."
"Was I offering?" the man returns dryly.
The first person to come greet Sora is a smiling man in a cowboy hat named Irvine Kinneas. He and Reno kind of grope at each other, like no one else is looking, but then Reno pulls back and shoves Sora towards him.
"This one is stupid—"
"—look out for him, for me, yo."
Irvine grins and slings an arm around Sora's shoulders. "Sure thing." He starts to lead Sora away but Reno seems to have something else to say.
"Uh, I'm offering to help?" He's surprised with himself, but unrepentant. "I'll tell you if I see them."
Irvine looks between the two, confused, but he lets it go. He blows a kiss after Reno and then drags Sora along. He's about to prove himself to be the blunt kind of man, in more ways than just one.
"Are you a virgin?" he asks, showing a fair amount of teeth with that grin of his. Sora flushes and tries not to recall the fiancée he'd left behind for this escapade. It was an arranged marriage, so it isn't that he feels bad about deserting her, but he had kept his virginity intact for her, all the same.
Kinneas doesn't need him to respond, he picks up all the answers from the heat in the kid's face.
"Well, how about I remedy that for you?"
"No, that's okay, you know, Reno offered me the same thing and I just think it—"
"If you're about to say better to save it for the customers then you are wrong. They are gonna rip your ass to shreds." Irvine winks and, sort of, clucks disapprovingly at him, Sora is mortified. "They're not gonna take any consideration for a virgin, they're gonna fuck you like they would a woman and you're gonna come back to me at the end of the night bleeding like an oil spill." Sora really has no response. What is one supposed to say to that, exactly? "I, on the other hand, have much experience with the average virgin male. Unless you have a thing for redheads? In that case, I can get Reno to come back?"
"No, no, that's fine," and Sora belatedly realizes that in saying no to Reno, he's said yes to Irvine.
"Great!" Irvine, declares, and they've made their way into one of the dorms. The rooms are pretty nice. They look big enough for, maybe, three people, with bedrooms in the back and a common space as you walk in the door. Nothing compared to his family's chateau, however. "So, what's your name?"
Somehow they've also fallen onto a bed and Kinneas is definitely touching him, definitely serious about this and Sora kind of has to accept that it's with good reason. So far he's gone on blind impulse, breathed on active desire, without ever really considering all the implications.
"Sora," the boy squeaks out and he's blushing too brightly for comfort. It isn't that he has a problem sleeping with men, it's that he has a problem sleeping with just any guy and Irvine is too damn friendly! A hand stroking his thighs, tickling his balls, lips sucking on his Adam's apple and then,
"Sora? That's a cute name." Irvine kisses him soundly on the mouth. "Let me take care of you, sweetheart."
The boy considers struggling or crying out, but instead takes a deep breath and steers his thoughts to what it is he's come here chasing.
The operatic sound of Riku's voice, the artistic way Riku had looked at him.
Irvine's hand on his cock is the fantasy, Riku is the real world. Please, oh, please, let Riku be the real world. Every stroke of Irvine's hand, every nip at his collarbone, jolts him from his reveries.
He throws his head back and moans as Kinneas circles his thumb over the blunt head of his cock. Irvine murmurs soft things to him, crooning like a mother to her babe and Sora can hear him shuffling around off to the side of the bed.
Sora implements the sounds of Riku's clothes rustling and… his cock is throbbing. His imagination is too vivid and Irvine's hand jacking him off is too sensational.
Suddenly, he is left with nothing, no feeling at all, he's left tight and trembling, with nothing. Then there is the feeling of sharp, cold and a wet sliding up his ass crack. Then a tickling circle around his hole.
The first of Irvine's long fingers almost doesn't hurt as much as he expects it to, and in the back of Sora's mind, there is sighing relief. It fades as the man pushes in farther and crooks his finger, bringing about a flash of pain. Sora whines low in his throat despite himself.
Irvine caresses his inner thigh, says something soothing and Sora just gasps,
There is no question that Irvine hears his call, but he doesn't say anything about it. He pulls his finger from Sora's ass, applies a little more oil and then comes back with two, invading the inner sanctum of pretty, tight, and pink.
The pain is worse. Riku's name is a full-blown mantra to help him through the uncomfortable, unaccustomed, stretch and burn.
"You're doin' great," the man tells him, scooting up his body and kissing him with a lot of tongue and damp and it's almost distracting enough. "Come on, here, jerk off, kid, won't that feel nice?"
Sora is half delirious, awash in sensations and fantasies, but he can perform a simple command such as 'jerk yourself off'. It's comforting when it's his own hand and not Irvine's, it helps to re-immerse himself into his blind, consuming, need for Riku.
Riku and his soft silver hair and perfectly wonderful eyes and… Sora makes a sound like a beaten, broken, animal: high and keening, when three of Irvine's fingers are deep inside fucking him.
His cock is close to completely softening because it's just so… it isn't...
"Ah…" He's trying to imagine some other man's cock up his ass or doing this to Riku or, "Ah!" Irvine has crooked his fingers just so; he's gotten in deep enough to hit that one spot which makes all the good parts better, or bearable.
Kinneas gives a little laugh as he licks one of Sora's nipples. "Yeah, it's easier to hit that with my cock, baby." He's vaguely aware of the fact that the watery-eyed brunet isn't listening to him at all, just muttering the name 'Riku' over and over and stroking his cock, struggling to keep an erection up, and wishing he could just come. Sorry, but this lesson isn't over until Irvine pops his cherry.
Best part, Irvine thinks, is the kid will still be tight enough to claim he's a virgin and he'll probably still bleed for the next few weeks. Hey, some men find that to be the most attractive part of a virgin. If his looks are any indication Sora is going to get regulars fast and his name is gonna spread by word of mouth like wildfire.
Sora's hole refuses to give anymore around his fingers, so Irvine pulls him up, sprawling him over his lap.
"This is going to hurt." Sora states drearily, sky-high eyes slipping quietly shut, his body limp.
Irvine feels so damn proud of him. "Yeah, honey, it is, but I'm going to make sure you come, even if I have to suck you off myself."
Sora isn't sure why that should be soothing, it really isn't, but Irvine wants it to be, so he tries. He tries not to cry out and whine as Irvine bucks up into him and he tries not to scream Riku's name when the strange man hits that lovely, wonderful, white, and slick, and roaring spot within him.
Irvine drags his hips down to that right angle and almost every stroke brushes just… just…
"Ah!" Sora really almost can't believe he comes when he does, shooting strands of translucent white, splattering both of their abdomens. Irvine thrusts up into him, making Sora squirm and gasp at the burn and sensation. Then Sora's tight and virgin and magnificence is just too much. He leaves a hot, sticky wad of dripping cum in the boy's ass.
"There," Irvine murmurs, holding Sora to him and feeling his heart thundering within his chest. Sora slumps against him, so Irvine leans them both back, not slipping free just yet. The boy gives a soft moan as Irvine's cock jostles inside of his tender asshole. The older man just presses a kiss on him, swallowing up pain with humidity and satiation. "There you are, sweetheart, pretty good, as first times go, I'd say."
He's startled when the new boy actually gives him a faint smile. Irvine finally pulls out and the sweet expression vanishes with a hiss of inhaled breath. He smoothes his younger partner's mass of nut-brown hair in consolation.
The cum on Sora's belly and the mixture of blood and oil at his thighs are just so… Irvine has never really been disgusted by it before, but he doesn't think he's had a virgin like this before. This one had been saving it for someone, was it that Riku he'd kept calling for?
Irvine laughs nervously. "I hear it's good for your skin," he makes useless flapping hand motions at Sora's stomach as he gets up. "But I'm gonna clean you up now."
The kid is asleep by the time he gets back and doesn't wake up, even as Irvine sees to sucking the cum from his ass. Even after, he watches the boy for a while longer, feeling a little bit like… like he's filthy and he begins contemplating a shower; first, however, he wants to talk to Reno.
He wanders into the common room of the dorm and reaches for the phone, carting it with him to the window. The view looks down into Xining in all her glory. It's colorful and full of people and smokestacks and general urban-civilization muck. Reno answers the phone after the fourth ring and it's obvious what he's up to.
"Hell-oh-oh, God! Wha… Who… Ah…"
"It's Irvine. How old is the kid you left with me?"
"I… oh, hah, right there! Fuck yes! God! Your cock! Uh! Old… he's… old enough, yo!"
Irvine hears it just fine when Rude tells him to hang up the gorram phone.
"Focus, baby, just answer the question and then you can go back to getting your brains fucked out."
"T… twenty? Something. Twenty something! Yes! Ah… Nnn, fuck me!"
"Right, say hi to Rude for me, sugar."Irvine feels weird. Twenty-something virgin that'd been saving it.