Pretty street boy

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A/N - Well, I finally managed to pin down those fickle muses and convince them to let me visit this story again. This chapter was fighting me the whole way and after no less than three false starts, the idea materialized suddenly, and I was finally able to go where I wanted with this. Giving me yet more proof that it is futile for me to do something when it isn't ready to come out. lol Thanks again, every one of you who has stuck with me thus far. ~Best Left Exposed

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After that, the nightmares started. Every little thing that had happened in my life before blazed in front of my eyes as I relived them in a confusing mix of a first person experience and outside observer. The images rushing through my dreaming brain in a stream, triggering all those feelings that had been shut behind the solid wall I had build around myself. Dreaming, the wall was gone. Gone as if none had ever existed. And every touch, every look, every word from those who had sought to use me was like a brand burnt directly on my soul.

In my dreams, I found myself responding like I hadn't in life. I couldn't avoid the experiences, but I found my voice amongst the screams, the will to struggle against my assailants. There was something that came up from within, even stronger than the wall, that surprised me. Never mind that I woke most nights with a fading scream on my lips and tears blurring my vision. Tripping over my feet every morning to rush to the shower, trying to scrub away the filth I could still feel eating into my flesh. I was dirty. My body was nothing more than a plaything; and watching myself in the dreams, I knew that despite my futile struggles, I wanted it....


"Come here, pretty little slut."

A great hulking man had cornered me on a back street. My escape route blocked by a security fence, the chain link topped by wicked looking barbs. I considered climbing it anyway, as I saw the man lumber towards me, an evil smile slapped across his face. I knew what was coming. I glanced up at the sharp barbs again. I could do it, the biting kiss of metal tearing into my skin would be nothing compared to the pain I knew would be coming, it glared out from behind muddy brown eyes, piggish on the man's too round face.

"Please... don't," I whimpered.

Fear and panic, like a thousand little knives, pricking me everywhere. The drumming beat of my heart throbbed loud in my ears, rendering me deaf. I could see his mouth moving, but nothing was coming out that I could hear. His grin only broadened as I crouched like the cornered animal I was. He was practically on top of me and I could smell the nauseous mix of alcohol and drugs radiating from him, my stomach churned. 'Please, please, please, please...' I couldn't speak it aloud, my lips were sealed shut with fear. 'Not this time, please, not again'. I scrambled backwards, pressing my back painfully into the cruel metal of the fence, but there was no escape.

A huge, paw of a hand grabbed my hair and jerked me up to my knees viciously. Tears sprung from my eyes as a dazzling burst of pain-induced light sparkled behind my closed lids; I cried out. His breath, foul and hot, on my flushed skin as he kneeled in front of me. I grabbed his thick arm, digging my nails into the crusty skin, wanting to vomit, the feel of him beneath my fingertips was rough and unclean. I heard him grunt from pain and he tightened his hold on my hair. It was going to rip from my scalp, I was certain. A whisper of wind was the only warning I had... his thick hand descending, I clenched my jaw against the blow to my face. Tears were streaming freely down my face, now. 'No, no, no, no, no....,' I chanted silently in my mind.

I kept my eyes screwed tightly shut as his disgusting mouth pressed sloppily into my neck, his tongue, thick and slimy, lapping my skin. "So sweet, like honey." I heard him through my pounding heartbeat. "You're gonna feel so good on my cock. Sweet little slut." His voice was thick with drunken lust.

His grip left my hair. I sighed with relief as I cracked my eyes. He was fumbling with the zipper on his pants, the bulge of his cock straining against the opening. I watched in fascination as he finally released his engorged member. It was full and thick, the swollen head glimmering with moisture. The dark shaft extended out from a thick, matted tangle of hair. His musk wafted up into my nose and I moaned.

"You want it, don't you?" He grabbed it roughly at the base and bobbed it lewdly. I couldn't keep my eyes off it. I was so large I wondered if I could take it all in without splitting in two. My ass clenched and my groin tightened, against my will. I didn't want it. I didn't! Another moan escaped my parted lips. He laughed cruelly. "Don't bother fighting, slut. I know you want me deep in that hole. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll let you come."

"No..." I didn't want it. I didn't want to be speared on that disgusting man. My cock lurched. "No...," I panted out. I felt my jeans being jerked down over my slender hips, the bones jutting out under tightly stretched skin. My hands moved to cover myself. Shamefully exposed to his leering gazed, I turned my face away. He was grabbing my wrists and tearing them away from my groin. It felt like they would snap in the powerful grip as he yanked them above my head as his free hand fondled my half-hard dick. I couldn't keep the gasp of shameful desire behind my lips that parted to let it tear free from my throat. His mouth was on mine as soon as my lips parted, there to catch the sound with rough, sloppy kisses. His tongue like a vile organ plundering my mouth, filling me with the sour taste of stale beer. I moved into him. I was like the filth on the street... deserving to be ground beneath the heels of all scum that walked across it. I hated it. I hated myself. I was straining in his unskilled hand as he jerked me off. Panting into his mouth, "Please..."

He released my wrists and I clutched to him tightly. I wanted to pass out with the stench, but his hand was on my hard cock, ruthless in it's assault. "Tighter..., " I murmured. The coil in my gut was winding tighter and tighter until I was thrashing wildly against him. His hand was fisting me so tightly that only the skin moved along the stiff inner core, stretching it painfully with each stroke. The calloused edge of his palm rubbed my cock-head with every upstroke, making it tingle. "Faster... God... please... harder..." I was in full delirium. Never mind who it was that touched me so. I was a slut, just like they all said. It didn't matter... all that mattered was having a stiff cock rammed hard up my ass. Punishing me for being the way I was. Dirty. Polluted. Sullied. Stained from the inside out by dozens of piercing dicks, spilling their corroding seed deep within my body. And I wiggled on their pistoning cocks, driving them deeper, hoping perhaps one day, one of them would drive in so deep that it would stab my heart so I could bleed to death.

He had spun me around, his arm draped across my hip, and continued to jack me. He was on his knees now. Spooning behind me, I felt his thick rod slip along the crevice of my ass and I slid my knees apart more, spreading for him. "Such a fucking dirty whore, aren't you?" His voice was husky and raw with lust. "I'm gonna fuck you til you bleed."

I moaned. "Yesss... Fuck me. Ram your huge cock up my tight ass. Make me scream..." My voice was hoarse with desire. I hated myself for it... I deserved to bleed. My inner pain found an out through physical trauma, I yearned for release from it. Getting ass fucked made me feel wanted. I was no longer abandoned on the street when someone was giving it to me so hard I wanted to cry. I heard him growl low. My words causing a fleeting tremor to shiver along his body. He yanked my dick two more times and as he plunged his cock deep within me, I screamed as I shot my hot seed out and over his hand....


My scream echoed off the walls of my room. Sweat making my hair stick to my face like strands of rotten sludge as I sat up in bed panting. My cock was slowly shrinking, the wetness on my sheet cooling rapidly. I sobbed with shame. The pain in my ass like a red iron, the memory making it seem fresh. I hated. I wanted to rush back into the dream and murder the repulsive man who had dared to touch me. It burned me and my heart clenched with anger and self-hate and humiliation. I was running to the shower again. The water was too hot. It burned my skin. I wanted my flesh to boil and slide off. The rag wasn't rough enough and my nails dug in as I tried to rid myself of the filth I could still feel lingering, seeping through to my guts. I was gagging with the memory and self-loathing. I had wanted it. The bitter acid of bile crept up my throat and I fell to my knees, puking it up. The water beating down in a cruel tempo onto my back as I heaved.

Unbidden, Michael's words whispered in my mind, "When you're ready." I whimpered with what I thought I understood; I was so defiled that He would never touch me in that way. I had the imprints of too many hands on me. In the mirror, only I could see that my skin was pitch from all those touches tainting me. My guts twisting with the knowledge that I wanted it. I wanted to be made dirty. Wanted to be used vilely, abused so viciously. Anything to make me feel through my impenetrable shield. Having no inkling that my apathy would kill me and leave my soul bleeding even unto Creation. And that I would finally find Him. That one who could crack through all the thick barricades layered year after year of living such a lifeless existence. That, of anything, hurt the most. Having finally come to the realization that I could feel and having someone who could actually care about me beyond my pretty-boy good looks, that I could lose it all. It was a crippling pain that wrung out my newly awakened heart.

It was no surprise that when I did have my heart opened to feel again that I would cling to all the negative emotions. The lighter, happier, positive things... I began to truly believe I did not deserve anything good. No brightness could exist for me, so I continued to sink deeper and deeper into a depression; if not for the fact I was already dead, I would've pined away to nothing because of it. Michael had made His presence known by His glaring absence and I excepted that if I ever was graced by even His mere shadow, my own darkness would stain His brilliance just by having the gull to look at it. Not even the call of the stars in the clear indigo sky, or, when it was cloudy, the comforting silence of purest black night could pull me out from the sanctuary of my room.

I moved slowly out of the shower, toweling my hair carelessly before wrapping the same wet towel around my torso. Not caring that I was still dripping on the floor. I made it back to the edge of my bed and sat. Legs curling around themselves, tucking into the thick blankets; my eyes drifted to gaze unseeing out the window.

"When I last left you, I didn't expect you to waste away to nothing. I'm sorry if the news of your death upset you so thoroughly." His satiny voice caressed my eager ears and I whimpered at the sound of it. Like a warm cloak on a chill night or the glow of the setting Autumn sun kissing everything with it's amber rays... every soft and soothing thing anyone could ever think of was felt in the cadence of his spoken words. I nearly wept from it. His radiance chasing away all my former dark thoughts. How vain it was for me to think my marred soul could touch Him.

I shuddered as I strained between wanting to run into His arms and skittering backwards into the corner by the bed. My eyes never reaching past the toes of His shoes, my voice was thin, "My death isn't much of a surprise," I murmured. "Without even knowing it, I welcomed it daily. Not that I was truly ready, but... you would know how much I didn't care." I coughed into my fisted hand. Staring in grim silence at my ankle, pillowed against the soft, down-filled bedspread. Wondering idlely at how the lines of such a joint could be so intriguing. I furrowed my brow. Michael's aura was burning me. I didn't want the light to touch the grunge-encrusted corners of what I carried inside me.

"You are as worthy of any good thing as those whom you would choose to be prized with them." His walked slowly to the foot of the bed where I sat curled around myself. I felt His hand brush aside a loose strand of my damp hair.

"Please don't touch me...," I couldn't bare the thought of His skin blackening like a withered thing from my touch. "I - I'm tainted."


"Before, you wanted me..."

"I'm not deserving to breath the same air as you, let alone have you touch me." I was panicking, my breath coming in such shallow puffs that my head was starting to swim. The sickness was rising up within me again and I moaned in misery.

I heard Him sigh. "Who do you think I am, then?" I could tell He was deeply disturbed by my actions and words.

"You must be an Angel. There is nothing else you could be! I can see you glowing in the dark!" I clamped my teeth shut tightly, fearing to look at Him. Surprisingly, I heard His deep, lush laughter. It wasn't cruel, but the kind of laugh that invited everyone to laugh as well. I looked up, then, confused. "You're not, then?" I blinked hard. "Y-y-you're not The Creator, then, a-a-a-r-r-r-e y-y-you?" The mere thought of it almost made me wet myself.

The bed creaked slightly as He sat next to me. His arm wrapping around my shoulders to pull me close. "I was a man much like you, once. Nothing more.. until I was brought here."

I could only let out the breath I was holding slowly. Relief washing over me. Such relief, in fact, that I leaned into Him, lulled by His warmth and affection. "I can't do this," I said finally. I turned my hand over, palm up. The smooth lines that created my hand's own unique topography criss-crossed on a creamy pale palm. But what I saw was map of black lines snaking their way out from my hand and up my arm. I rubbed my palm on my thigh. "It won't come off," I said desperately. "I can't get it off my skin and it's searing down to my soul."

His hand cradled my chin and He looked into my eyes with such profound sympathy that my eyes welled, threatening to overflow. "I know. I know it...," He said with yet another layer under His voice. I didn't miss the split second that His glance went to His own hand and my opinion of Him climbed ever higher. I wondered how He was ever able to overcome His own self-inflicted stains. I was certain I would never be able to be rid of my own.

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Thanks again for reading! I appreciate the reviews, even the cryptic ones. ~___^ It sure makes my day to hear from fellow readers, (I consider myself more a reader than a writer ^_^). See you again, I hope!, in Chapter seven... ~BLE
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