vigorli

title: A Murder of Crows (whore studies one)
author: fra
pairing: V/0
genre: AU
rating: adult
disclaimer: don't sue me, I'm just playing...
notes: looking at the whore/john dynamic...
not beta'd

"How do you want me?" The whore gestured with one long brown hand.

"Naked, on your back." He said without looking up, whiskey glass halfway to his mouth. He smiled into it and chuckled, the sound smoky rough and raspy. The whore was perfect.

He listened to the whisper of fabric on skin and downed the last of the amber liquid with one hand as he slipped the button on his jeans open with the other, his dick an angry ridge in his pants.

The bedsprings squawked as the whore dropped onto them and it reminded him of crows shouting.

"How much?" He dug into the loosened pocket of his jeans and scooped his wallet out, thumbing through the stack of bills. He let the fly of his jeans gape open, the waist band barely sitting on his hips. It felt good not to care.

"Five for the night." The whore's legs were crossed, his balls a plump rise under the half hard dusky cock. He nodded and flung five bills on the night stand beside the stack of condoms and bottle of lube.

"How long ago were you last fucked? How much prep do you need?" He slipped his jeans off and threw them into the corner on top of his crumpled white shirt and dark jacket. His cock waived heavily between his thighs and he stroked it as he jerked the curtains closed with one hand.

The whore snorted. "Thanks, but I'm good to go."

He gave the whore a measure look and wondered if the boy's arrogance was real or artful construction. Not that it mattered and he was amazed at this point that he could still bring himself to care.

"Fine. Grab the headboard and spread your legs." He crossed to the bed as the whore made a show of undulating, stomach muscles rippling, as he raised his hands up and let his thighs fall open.

Oh god, that's fucking gorgeous, he mused as he slid between the long slim legs. He ripped the condom pack with his teeth and spat the top, the cold lubrication making him shiver as he rolled it down.

He wanted to close his eyes and loose himself in the sweet anonymous heat he'd paid for but the whore made an obscenely erotic sound as he was pierced and the copper rose disks of his nipples hardened and he could not look away.

And just as suddenly he was angry. At the whore for being noticeable. At himself for fucking up something as simple as paying for a fuck. At Karl for being such a prick.

"Something wrong, old man?" The whore's voice breathed hot and dirty soft across his ear.

His focus returned to the fine boned face and he set his jaw, stabbing one, two, three vicious times. Again the boy made that low moaning grunt of approval.

"You gotta big mouth, boy." He says, and the whore smiles a wicked smile.

"I'm told it's my best feature." The whore chuckles and shimmies his hips, driving a spike of pleasure up his spine. "You gonna fuck me or what?"

He cocks an eyebrow at the whore. "How much to shut you the fuck up?"

The boy-whore laughs. "That amount has yet to be determined." He says and continues to chortle. "How bout it. Gonna show me what ya got?" the whore chides and tucks a lip between his teeth while he grips his ass muscles around his dick. And Oh, fuck yeah, that's good so he groans and half lids his eyes.

"Fuck," he moans and the whore smiles, clearly feeling on top of the situation. "Don't look so smug, little boy, it ain't morning yet." His voice has dropped a register and sounds like gravel. His Lucifer voice.

He leans up and grabs the boy's hands, one and then the other and crosses them at the wrist so he can hold them in one hand, then slides his other hand under the slim muscled back and hooks his fingers over the opposite slender shoulder.

He gives an experimental shove and the whore goes no where, is trapped under him, and the resistance feels heavenly. The boy grunts into each thrust and pushes down against him increasing the pressure. God, damn, he thinks, this whore knows how to fuck.

And it feels fantastic. He just wants to fuck and fuck and fuck until he can't see and he's so tired his mind will just shut down and stop yelling at him. The soft squish of dick in ass and their combined rhythmic exhalations sound like music, the sensations crossing together and blending until he's cross eyed and coming, mouth gaping, the whore's sharp heels on his ass.

"Oh, fuck, oh, god," he chants, his hips still ramming the last inch helplessly, wringing every scintilla of pleasure he can from his climax.

He can feel the whore's lungs working like a bellows and the hard poke of his slender dick jabbing his belly. He smiles.

"You wanna come?" which surprises him because he truly thought, not two minutes ago, that he did not give a rats ass what the whore wanted. Or anyone else for that matter.

The whore smiles, his breath coming in shallow pants, his hair is damp around his temples. "Don't care. Want me to?" The whore's crow black brows rise, questioning.
I'll be damn, he thinks and thanks his lucky stars he found this treasure.

"Fuck yeah," he says and shifts, hands moving until he's lower over the whore's belly and suck's him down with a sharp grunt. The whore wails, one hand on the headboard and the other in his hair, not quite a death grip. He pumps and swallows and breathes a humming tune and the whore comes with a shout he knows could be heard on the street.

"Damn," the whore says and they look at each other.

"You're good." He says grudgingly and wallows in the sweat, come, shit smell of their sex.

"I know." The whore pants and cracks a lazy smile.