[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 1 (part 1) (Patreon)

Warning for prostitution, forced prostitution of minor (barely legal, almost 18), rape, violence, drug abuse and killings.

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"It's noon, Gabriel."

At the sound of the voice, Gabriel lets out a muffled groan and shifts from his sleeping position in bed. In his sleep muddled state, he starts to register how sore his body is. The muscles on his arms and thighs throb unpleasantly. He turns his head to the side and blinks against the sunlight streaming in through the window above his bed.

Squinting, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Memories from the day before seep into his awareness, trickling into his consciousness. Shame and humiliation follow next in quick succession. He wants to blot out the reminders of last night, but it seems like his body has different ideas, throbbing and aching in places he never knew a person could ache. The bed dips as someone sits beside him.

Long fingers grip the band of his loose white boxer and peels it down the globe of his ass. He stills as the fingers spread his asscheeks apart. There's an approving hum before the fingers are removed and his boxers snap back into place. Very much awake now, he turns around to piercing blue eyes. Light blonde hair shines like a halo around his handsome face in the bright sunlight. Lucas. True to his name, he is as beautiful as the angel with a heart as cold as ice. He is also the man Gabriel has fallen in love with. And the person to break his heart time and time again.

"You look less swollen now. In a few hours, you'll be as good as new," he says, indicating the soothing gel he had applied on Gabriel last night. Gabriel had been too out of it to do anything other than to lie in bed, hurting and spent while Lucas praised and fussed over him. Lucas brushes the side of his face with the back of his fingers. Gabriel leans into the touch. During moments like this, he can pretend that everything is fine, and that he's in a normal relationship with his boyfriend.

"Now, go and take a shower. You have a long night ahead of you," Lucas says as he slaps his thigh and stands.

Just like that, the warm bubble he's wrapped himself in bursts, and Gabriel is thrown back into reality. He feels cold despite still lying in bed in a tangle of sheets. The side of his thigh that had been pressed against Lucas's aches at the loss of contact as the man moves away. Gabriel forces himself to stay still, ignoring the urge to reach out as Lucas walks back out the room, leaving the door ajar. Sighing, he slumps back into bed and stares at the now familiar patch of plaster above his bed.

He misses Lucas. Misses the man he first met and fell in love with when he arrived at the home three months ago. The man who showered him with attention and gave him solid ground when he was lost. The man who promised affection and companionship. Who had charmed his way into his life and captured his heart. Back then, Lucas was sweet and kind. He would pepper him with kisses and gentle touches. Tell him how beautiful his eyes are as he takes Gabriel apart.

Gabriel had known he's bisexual when he was thirteen and found himself appreciating the male and female form. The way his eyes would linger for a moment too long at the way a jeans would hang low on a set of lean hips. Or the way a t-shirt is stretched too tight across a broad chest or full bosoms. Life would be much easier if he focuses his attraction to girls, but when he was fifteen, he was crushing hard on his science project partner. A sweet boy by the name of Andrew.

Gabriel never told anyone about his crush, not even his father, Emmanuel Ward or his older brother, Raphael. Judging by their names alone, it’s safe to say that their father was a religious man.

A knock on the door pulls him out of his reverie. He looks up to see Chase, all six feet of him, standing awkwardly by his door. He catches Chase's emerald green eyes roam down his torso. When they stop at his boxers, his face turns pink before his eyes fly back up to Gabriel's face. He clears his throat, looking flustered. Gabriel hides a smile.

He had only known Chase for three weeks when he moved into the home with his six years old younger brother, Sam. They are the same age, and they shared a few classes together though he can't remember noticing Chase before. Gabriel lacks the social skill that allows him to blend in easily. He is pretty much a loner at school. At home, the others make an effort to avoid him. He had thought Chase would want the same, so he kept his distance. He tilts his head now, curious as to why Chase is standing in his doorway, looking three shades of embarrassed.

"Hey, Gabe."

His voice is young and boyish like it has not yet fully matured. A perfect contrast to his own low baritone that sounds years beyond his age. Chase is also the only one to call him Gabe. He wonders why no one thought of that before. It seems so natural. Simple. And he likes the sound of it. He gives Chase a small smile.

"Hello, Chase."

Chase coughs a little, the tip of his ear turning a light shade of red. "Um... I don't know if Lucas told you this already, but I will be coming along with you tonight."

"Oh?" Gabriel is surprised. This is news to him. He always went to Zael's party alone. His heart clenches a little at the thought that Chase is participating as well. Because there isn't a doubt in his mind what Chase's purpose at the club is. Like him, they're the entertainment. Gabriel is used to it but Chase- It's a fate he wishes never to befall anyone else. "I'm so sorry, Chase."

He shrugs. "First time for everything I guess. Hey, at least you'll be there. You're going to look out for me, Gabe?"

Gabriel's eyes widen, and he answers as earnestly as he can. "Of course, Chase. But I hardly have any control over what happens at these clubs-"

"I'm joking," Chase interrupts, smirking a little but with a, Gabriel is reluctant to say, fond expression on his face. People don't look at him fondly. He must have misread Chase's facial connotations.

"Oh," he answers instead.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Chase rubs at his neck. "So, um, do I need to prepare or..." he trails off, his face beet red now. "Look, I don't know what to expect here, and I could use your help- No!" he shouts suddenly, startling Gabriel. "No, I don't need you to umm... No. What I mean is, Lucas asks me to come to you for advice on what to do before we go," he explains.

"I see." He stares at Chase's reddening face and the slump set of his shoulder a while longer before he adds, Well. You need to prep yourself. It also helps if you don't eat hours before we leave and it would be most practical if you give yourself an enema," he advises matter of factly. Chase's face twisted at that. "Gross, dude. I did not need to hear that." Gabriel gives him a deadpan stare. "You asked, Chase. I'm merely providing the information you requested."

Chase lifts his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm just nervous, okay?" The defensiveness he felt at Chase's reaction disappears. His eyes soften as he tries to reassure him. "I'm sorry you're forced into this, Chase. If it helps, I'll try to take the burn of it tonight."

"Hey, no. Don't do that, Gabe. I know where you've been last night. You must be sore." He stares at Chase, surprised that he would know, but then again the home is small, and it is a pre scheduled thing. He feels a blush heats his face at the thought. He should be used to people knowing what he does by now, but he isn't. The shame lingers.

He is feeling sore and the prospect of tonight is daunting. He hates to think how he would feel after. Unsure of what to say, he keeps quiet.

Chase takes a deep breath and forces a smile. "I'll see you tonight." With that, Chase turns on his heels and walks back down the hallway towards the room he shared with Sam two doors down.

Gabriel sighs, pushing himself out of bed. He winces as the movement pulls a muscle. Ignoring the pain, he grabs a towel, flips it over his shoulder and limps towards the communal shower. The group home has seven occupants. Lucas Kane is the owner and person in charge of the home. He used to be an orphan himself, had stayed in this exact home until he turned eighteen and left. That was eight years ago. He never talks about his time away. Or why he decided to come back to Lawrence six months ago.

When Gabriel first arrived, the others were already here; Tessa Rivera, Anna Milton, and Amelia Richardson. They are 15 and 16 respectively with Amelia being the youngest at eight. Then, of course, came Chase and Sam Reed. The group home isn't large, but it does fit the seven of them comfortably. There are a total of six rooms, four bedrooms, an office and the laundry room. Chase and Sam took over Tessa's room, and she's now bunking with Anna and Amelia.

Gabriel shuffles towards the sink and grabs his toothbrush. When he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he can't help but feel a stab of humiliation. There are dried white crusts at the corner of his mouth. He averts his eyes and focuses on brushing his teeth, washing away the taste from last night. He spits and gurgles then hangs his mouth under the tap, appreciating the fresh cold water as he drinks. He walks across the black tiled floor towards the stall in the corner. Hanging the towel on the peg outside, he pulls off his t-shirt. Stiffly, he steps out of his boxers and throws them into the hamper there.

Stepping inside, he pulls the curtain shut and turns on the shower. He reeks of sex. The cubicle soon fills with steam from the hot water. Gabriel moves under the heavy spray and lets it wash away all the evidence of last night, the stickiness between his buttcheeks and the dried semen on his body and hair. Gabriel Ward is a whore. A party favor. And Lucas is his pimp. The group home is a front for what is actually a whorehouse. Anna, Chase, and Tessa were forced into the lifestyle too. Gabriel doesn't know the gory details, but he heard their cries and witnessed the aftermath. It's one of the reasons the others avoided him.

Because he wasn't forced. In fact, he had submitted willingly. It hurts him to think about it, so he doesn't. Instead, he focuses on fingering his hole, rubbing at the rim gently before pressing a finger inside. He washes himself the best he can before he inserts two more fingers, scissoring himself open. He meant what he said to Chase. It's best to be prepared. He needs to make sure that he can take whatever is thrown at him without tearing or hurting himself because he knows the people at the club wouldn't care if he starts bleeding.