Chapter Text
The winter in that city could be lethal for the poor souls living on the streets. When the leaves began to fall from the trees, for some it meant that it would be the last winter of their lives. The temperature drops below freezing, it rains frequently, it even snows. Luther, being a big-hearted man, felt sorry for them and hated winter terribly. He felt hypocritical, complaining about the situation but doing nothing to improve it. Because he couldn't bring them all home. And he couldn't give up his chores to go to town every day, to help. He helped when he could and when he couldn't, he had to convince himself that at least he was helping. Luther lived in a quaint house in the woods, away from everyone. And he only went out when he needed to shop, take clothes to the dry cleaners and sometimes, very rarely... To have a drink on his own.
He considered it one of the most worldly pleasures he indulged in. Drinking, smoking and sometimes… fucking. It was Friday night and after finishing cleaning the basement, he decided he deserved a break. A clear out that would make him refresh his mind and take a break from that house. To do that, he needed to get dressed.
He took down from his closet a green shirt, spotless, there wasn't a single wrinkle on it. Luther took as much care of his image as he did of his house. His skin, smooth and firm, white, free of wrinkles. His brownish red hair, combed to perfection, silky. Now his body was adorned by that green shirt, brown corduroy pants and on his long, slender fingers rested rings of all kinds.
As he looked at himself in the mirror, he knew he was perfect, elegant. Everything was in place and that meant that the night was promising. He felt it on his skin, in his stomach.
Today something was going to happen that was going to mark his life.
- - -
—Don't even think of coming back without those 200 bucks you owe me. Yesterday you didn't make any money, the day before yesterday either. So today you'll have to make up the money you didn't earn. —And almost kicking him out, his boss closed the door of the building where Vanya lived. He was just another prisoner. Surrounded by girls who were forced to sell their bodies to pay for their daily expenses, Vanya was the only boy who sold himself. They called him “the angel” and both men and women bought him. However, this past week, due to abstinence, Vanya was in no condition to sell himself. No one wanted to spend their money on a boy who was vomiting all over himself and shaking like a wet dog.
Almost crawling down the street, Vanya hugged his body which was only covered with an open white shirt, stained with vomit and torn jeans. He wore no shoes and would probably die of cold within hours. It was a cold freezing night.
- - -
—One more whiskey, Luther? —asked the bartender to one of the only customers in the bar. The place was hidden in one of the alleys in the center of the city and therefore hardly anyone knew of its existence. And if they did, they didn't want to go near it. But Luther thought it was perfect. The music was exquisite, the owner was a good man and the lack of people was not an inconvenience, if not a relief.
Luther didn't like crowds of people. He felt he no longer fit in with the herd and so, he lived away from everyone. Luther was certainly a very special man.
—Oh, no no no... I appreciate it. I have to drive back and I wouldn't want to hit any trees. It's been a good night, hasn't it Francesco? —he spoke as he rose from his chair and picked up the coat he had hung on the back of his seat.
—It has been, Luther. It's good to see you again. Drive safe… —the man wiped the counter and Luther walked out. The contrast of the cold of the night with the warmth of his cheeks made him shiver. He'd had three whiskeys and really, he was drunk. He could feel it in his stomach and in his head... But he didn't think anything of it since he wasn't going home yet. The streets were empty and that pleased him, it was the perfect time to smoke a cigar and enjoy his solitude.
He began to walk aimlessly, between alleys, smoking that cigar with a slight smile, eyes wide open. His hair waved back in the wind and that icy breeze tickled his neck. Although that tingle, for some reason, felt different. It went down from the back of her neck to her tailbone and lingered there.
It wasn't cold, it was a feeling; something was going to happen.
He had been feeling it all night, but as he crossed that street it grew stronger. And when he wanted to realize it, the cause of it all was in front of him.
Long hair, down to his chest, slightly wavy. And as white as snow, with cold tones. He walked crestfallen and hugged his body so tightly that he could feel his fingers digging into his arms, almost piercing his skin. He would be frozen, shoeless, with only a white shirt covering his thin torso. Luther stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of him and the boy, when he noticed, raised his head and they finally connected gazes.
He had a smooth pale face, large eyes and long eyelashes, batting rapidly from the cold that must have hit his eyes. A red nose indicated that his skin was in pain. He must have been going through a lot of pain...Luther could feel it. He could almost brush the pain with his fingertips.
—Mh, hello... Would you like to spend some time with me? I'll do anything you want for 50 dollars, an hour... Anything… —his voice was as delicate and elegant as a snowflake. Unique... Luther couldn't help but be curious about him. The way he was selling himself made him feel an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't disgust, or horniness... He felt broken for him. Such a beautiful boy, wandering the city streets in search of some money.
—My name is Luther. What's your name? —he asked, completely ignoring the offer. He would never pay for anyone's body. It wasn't moral, it wasn't something he liked or wanted. And he knew that boy didn't want to be touched by a stranger in exchange for money either.
The boy hesitated before answering, looking confused. However, there was something in his prospective client's gaze that made him respond.
—Vanya...
Again, a sweet whisper escaped his lips. So delicate that it could be mistaken for a mere sigh.
That name…
—What is it that you need? —he asked genuinely, keeping a respectful distance, aiming not to scare the boy in any way. The last thing he wanted was to be part of his suffering.
—I need money... Anything will help. I'll do anything you want for a little money. I need... I really need it —Vanya didn't understand the situation. He was never asked what he needed. Nor his name... They only asked for his prices, in a nasty way. But this man was different... The respectful way he spoke, as if they were equal.
—Are you hungry, Vanya? —Luther avoided at all costs to respond to the boy's offer. He didn't want to buy him and the idea of giving him money and disappearing didn't convince him, it wasn't enough. From the bruises on his arms and feet, he could easily deduce that he was an addict and that money would go straight to soothe his discomfort. That blank stare... He didn't know if he was high at the moment or going through withdrawal. And he didn't know which could be worse.
The boy, embarrassed, lowered his head and looked down at the floor, where his feet were lying and would soon turn purple. Of course he was hungry... He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. His stomach felt empty, it hurt and made him want to vomit... He felt ashamed to be a starving prostitute, selling himself like nothing to a man as elegant as Luther was.
Nodding Vanya felt a tear fall down his cheek. Then another, and another... For a few seconds he thought that from the cold, his tears would freeze and fall like soft hail.
—Don't be ashamed. Look, I'm not going to pay for your services; I'm not that kind of man. But I can offer you warm food. A bed to sleep in and a good conversation… —biting his cigar, Luther took off his long coat and carefully draped it over the boy's shoulders to protect him from the cold. He didn't care that he was dirty or that there was vomit on his shirt. Nor the fact that Vanya could run away and keep it, maybe resell it because it was an expensive coat. All that mattered to him was that at least, that night, that boy wouldn't die in the street.
Vanya held the coat against his body and with sparkling eyes, raised his head to meet the man's strange gaze. It was almost hypnotic, those big eyes with those tiny pupils, almost being able to count his few blinks. He was a handsome man. He seemed to have escaped from a bygone era... And although any man in his right mind would have run away from him, Vanya did not. He couldn't, there was something in those eyes that kept him static in his place. Anyway... If he didn't die at the hands of that man, he would die of cold.
—Why are you being so nice to me? —he asked, confused.
—I'm just as lonely as you are.
- - -
Huddled against the passenger seat, Vanya smoked the same cigar that minutes before had been on Luther's lips. He was looking out the window, nostalgic... Thinking about the decision he had just made. His boss had thrown him out on the street because of his debts and he really had nowhere to drop dead, but did that mean he could go with the first stranger who suggested it?
Not the best of ideas.
However, Luther didn't seem like just any man. He knew there was something different about him... The way he spoke to him, the way he had left his coat, the same one that was now acting as a blanket, covering him from the cold... He was different. He had to be. He wished he was.
The walk was silent but Vanya didn't mind. With one of his hands he stroked his own feet trying to warm himself. The car heater was on but it wasn't enough, he was very cold... One that was lodged under his skin and lingered terribly.
He began to see the forest to his right and when he wanted to realize it, they had already entered it through a bad road. He should be alarmed, he should be frightened, but he really wasn't. He didn't feel threatened or worried about anything. He didn't feel threatened or worried that he was entering the woods with a stranger.
He could rape him. But they had already done it so many times that one more wouldn't hurt so much.
He could kill him. But at least it would end his suffering.
And also, he could really help him.
He had nothing to lose and much to gain.
- - -
—I'm gonna carry you, okay? I don't want you to get hurt. Or get any colder. —said and done, Luther opened the passenger door and, carrying him in his own arms he began to walk home. The porch lights came on and the door creaked open, a whine that indicated it was low on oil.
He will get to it tomorrow.
Vanya didn't weigh much. He was too thin and carrying him felt like carrying a six-foot bag of bones. That was something he had to fix. He had to feed him well and get him to gain muscle mass.
Vanya, on the other hand, held to Luther tightly. He felt embarrassed about having to be carried like that. But he didn't deny the help. He let himself be carried inside the house until the floor changed from dirt and stones to gleaming wood. The lights came on as Luther passed, as if the house worked to the man's liking.
For some reason, he didn't question it.
Luther brought a pair of slippers and after Vanya slipped them on, they walked together to the bathroom.
An aquamarine tiled bathroom, very vintage. A freestanding bathtub, long enough to hold a six-foot-four man, orange towels and a white heater made up the interior of that room.
—I'll leave you alone, okay? If you need anything, call me. I'll bring you some pajamas when you're done. Enjoy your bath, Vanya. —and stroking the shorter boy's hair, Luther left the room.
Vanya's heart pounded.
That man was so kind, gentle... It seemed stupid to think that he didn't want anything in return. That he did it for the pure pleasure of helping a person in trouble. Could he believe it? All men always wanted something in return. However, he wanted to think Luther was different and enjoy that little fairy tale. Also, enjoy his hot bath.
The stove was heating the room and the tub was already filled with hot water. After undressing, he looked at himself for a few seconds in the mirror. His body, thinner than ever, was painted with a few bruises. The men who bought his services weren't exactly careful. They always grabbed him hard, squeezed his weak body with their large hands to the point that Vanya feared his bones would simply break. They tugged at his hair and bit his skin... To them Vanya was nothing more than a blow-up doll. One with whom they could do whatever they wanted for an hour since that's what they had paid for.
Now surrounded by bubbles and hot water, Vanya wondered if Luther would be a careful man in bed. If he would treat his partners well, if he would ask them if they liked it, where to touch or if they wanted to continue. Surely he would. He seemed like a good man. He had said he was alone, maybe he didn't have a partner. Maybe... Maybe that was the reason Vanya was there. Maybe he just wanted to fill that void with the company of another man.
Luther seemed like a typical man who, if he were to pay for services, would only ask to have a chat. And that for some reason made Vanya smile.
He felt like the main character of a dramatic romance... A dirty prostitute being picked up off the street by a good man who just wanted to talk to another man. They would end up falling in love and Vanya could leave that job for good and once and for all, receive real love.
Vanya could not remember the moment when he had stood in the bathtub, calling out to Luther.
—I'm coming… —Luther replied, stepping out of his room and carefully opening the bathroom door.
Vanya was standing in the bathtub, his wet hair falling down his chest, his naked body... Vanya looked like a nymph. One who had just emerged from the depths of an enchanted lake, walking naked and gracefully through the forest. One of his feet stepped out of the tub and rested on the towel causing dozens of drops of water to slide down his skin swiftly.
Luther swallowed hard.
He didn't want to look. He really didn't want to intrude on his privacy like that but he was walking so gracefully towards him... His slender arms closed over his shoulders and just like that, their lips were already interlocked. Vanya was showing an autonomy he hadn't let shine all night. He felt his long fingers tangle around his body and for a moment... For a moment he remembered...
Punish me… Master
—Wait... —as soon as that memory bounced in his mind Luther felt himself awaken from his trance. He had always been very polite but he was also human. And to see such a creature surrender so gracefully to him had been something hard to refuse... But he had to do it.
He couldn't let another cat make him lose his mind.
—What's the matter… don't you like me? —Vanya asked in surprise, even embarrassment. For the first time... He wanted to spread his legs for a man of his own free will. Luther had been so gentlemanly, so attentive... It seemed like such a safe and viable option. Definitely, the man stopping him had been shocking.
—No, Vanya. You are very handsome to me but I'm not that kind of man. Or at least, I'm not anymore.
—What kind of man are you? —he whispered as he slowly brought his hands up to the cheeks of that peculiar man.
—One who promised to never let himself be carried away by his impulses again.
...
The milk was already boiling and Luther turned off the heat, moving the pan to pour the milk into an orange cup. He let a teabag of chamomile steep and when the milk was slightly cream-colored, he dropped a little cinnamon over the surface.
A tea before bedtime never hurt.
Luther's knuckles tapped several times against the wooden door of one of the guest rooms. Funny, since Luther never had a visitor.
—May I come in? —he asked.
—Yes... —answered the long-haired boy, in a voice that mixed nervousness and embarrassment.
When Luther came in, Vanya was already in bed. He had changed into the light blue pajamas he had lent him. His hair was straight now that it was neatly combed and clean. It fell over his chest softly, looking fine and delicate. There were traces of tears in the young man's eyes and it made Luther feel guilty. He didn't want to embarrass him, but he didn't want to fall into something he might regret.
The older man sat down on the bed and sank the mattress with his weight, making the springs of the bed squeak. He should change that mattress... He carefully handed him the tea and silently, Vanya tasted it.
—It's good...
—Don't feel bad about me pushing you away. —the ease with which Luther brought up the subject made the young man startle. He really was a straightforward man. But he didn't understand. If it wasn't about sex, why was he there? He didn't think good kindness existed in times like this. Least of all on the cold streets of the big city. His little fantasy that his head had led him to believe as he showered was now gone. He was no prince in distress rescued by a much stronger and braver one. Luther had only taken pity on him.
—Why am I here then?
—And why wouldn't you be?
—Because no one would want to bring a dirty, drug-addicted whore into their home.
—Don't talk about yourself like that. —The older man answered in a tone Vanya had never heard before. It was serious and harsh, like an order. This made Vanya look away, thinking about his words and feeling the pain of saying it out loud. The shame of being who he was... It was too much for him. Tears welled up again but now there was a pale, icy hand wiping them away as they fell. But as cold as they were, he felt warm.
—I'm sorry —he whispered again.
—Are you in a hurry? —Luther asked. This threw Vanya off, but he answered nonetheless.
—No...
—Then stay a few days and let's find out together why you're here.