Blues

A/N: Edited, please R&R.
+About the story, I know it can be a bit confusing but the scenes aren't really chronological, at least at first, it's mostly to set the right mood for the subsequent chapters.
---Name--- = that person's POV
---------- = 3rd person narrative
thought

***

~Prolog~
------------Michael------------

In a dirty, narrow street on the worse part of town dark people pass by hurriedly between the scarce lightning from windows, without glancing or with interested looks at two hunched figures sitting on the side walk.

''So, how did it go? Oh. You're smiling, did he pay well?''

''Forty dyn.''

''Wow, that's a whole week's cash, Michael! He must've really liked you.''

He liked me?

''So how was it?''

''It was wonderful, Nicky.''

Mr. Comwell - the client I just came from - is very good to me, he's a regular and always comes back to see only me. He's very caring and, unlike any other client I've ever had, cares how I'm feeling, if I'm liking it. He says he wants me to enjoy it too.

''That's good.'' Nicky, my partner whore - it's never good to stand around in this kind of place alone - leans close and kisses me. He likes to touch a lot, it seems that even working with this kind of stuff doens't make him tire of it.

''He said he'll be back for me.''

''Oh, Michael...that's good but, just don't keep waiting for him.''

I don't get what Nicky says sometimes. He knows Mr. Comwell. I'll always wait for him. Nicky trows an arm around me and cuddles close, holding me until his next client shows up.

-----------------------

A tall, white haired man, his age showing in the pale locks rolling down his back, leans over the young man laying spread upon the cheap motel bed. They're both sweating profusely and panting to match the thrusts rocking the mattress.

The person known to his whores as Mr. Comwell, although old, is far from decrepit. His money and hard work has kept him in great shape, so much that only the hair and deep lines under his eyes betray it.

Mr. Comwell likes both males and females, he also doesn't fell he has to hold back in spending all his income with the pleasures of the flesh. Why make economy and leave it all to that hag wife of his or his bastard sons? He will enjoy his last years the best he can. Indulge on beauties like this one, moaning beneath him, and go happily to hell.

''Michael, you were great. Did you like it?''

''Yes. Mr. Comwell, you're always so.. makes me...'' The boy is puffy eyed. For sure he cried again.

Mr. Comwell has never taken a liking to this kind of emotional stuff, but this young man and his stubborn innocence, that managed to survive in this petty, angry world, got him interested. However, for how long he didn't know. He had other pretty bodies waiting for him and knew he'd eventually tire. But for now, he will just enjoy himself.

They dress up, the money exchange hands, bid farewell and leave the room. Michael goes back with his promise of another time to come and Mr. Comwell goes to his house, spent and satisfied with the sins his family doesn't know about.

Mr. Comwell isn't a bad man, really. But he just never thought to consider that prostitutes had feelings. And, much less, ever added causing heart-break in the equation of his nightly games. Only time would tell what will come from it.

-------------------------

Nicky is bitting his lip as he waits for Michael to come back. He can't get a client until Michael shows up for they can't leave the spot alone or someone else will take it and they will lose the night. When Michael leaves with that man, he always take longer to return.

He's known Michael since he came to this god-forsaken part of town two years ago. They were both lost and the moment Nicky saw the other boy beaten up and as haggard as him he knew they should stay together.

The prostitution came naturally, as it always does in this kind of place. They both needed money and soon the propositions came. Good looking, the two thin, fair, dark haired boys, not completely men but not kids either, didn't have trouble surviving.

Of course, now, as he sees Michael coming back with a smile on his face and a glow on his eyes he gets a little worried. Nicky told himself that the strange clench on his heart was only self preservation. They've learned that this kind of life doesn't afford feelings, much less hope.

But why does he want to hold Michael close, kiss him and make him forget all about that Mr. Comwell? Even after he's sore and tired of indulging drunken, rough men all night long, ones that can't even bother with preparation and make him sore and bleed, why he wants to lay close to Michael and make him say his name?

When a client calls, Nicky gets up and leaves Michael again. They can't afford feelings. It's all for the best.

***
PS: This fic was inspired by a Naruto DJ 'Yotaka Nighthalk'.