[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Lucas splashes cold water on his face, eyes closed as he scrubs his hands over the rough scruff lining his jaw. He opens his eyes and rests his palms on the sink, looking up into the cracked glass above it. Cold blue eyes stare back at him. Droplet of water rolled off his eyelashes. A steady drip echoes in the bathroom. His reflection is calm and quiet, staring back at him like he's an interesting specimen. A polite, professional curiosity.

How could he look so calm when inside he is a whirlpool of emotions? Anger. Fiery red lashes at his insides, burning him up with rage. He wants to rip, tear and slash everything apart. But there's also pain. Overwhelming hurt and despair. It feels like his heart caved in on itself, leaving a black hole in its place. He watches his reflection as he brings a hand up to the tattoo on his chest. He brushes his pointer finger down the flaming blade, stopping at the hilt, pressing at the hidden wound there.

He had lost it, he knows. Waking up with that recurring nightmare has left him needing. He needed to inflict the pain he felt. All that anguish pointing inwards will drive him insane. He needed to lash out. Preferably at the person who had caused it. Steel blue eyes. Charcoal black hair. He sighs, hand dropping back onto the sink as he lets his head drop. He had hurt Gabriel this morning. The person who least deserve it.

Gabriel who has been nothing but good to him. He had exceeded all expectations. Had followed every one of his requests with wide sad eyes. He isn't blind. He knows how Gabriel feels for him. In fact, he might have encouraged it in the beginning. Helped mold him into who and what he is today. A submissive. He doesn't know why he's being exceptionally cruel to Gabriel. Why he toyed with his feelings or played with his emotions. And why he's felt inexplicably drawn to him when he felt the need to hurt.

He knows it's wrong to take Gabriel as a surrogate for his rage and pain. It had occurred to him that he might be hurting Gabriel with his careless words and behavior. His hot and cold treatment. But what happened this morning is ten times worse. He had deliberately gone to Gabriel to hurt him, to see the pain in his eyes. His cries and pleads to stop just served to fuel the fire inside him.

He had pinned him down hard enough to bruise and pushed his cock into his unprepared hole with the sole intention to cause as much pain as possible. He had enjoyed every groan of pain he'd wrenched from Gabriel, watched mesmerized as he slammed his cock into him again and again knowing that each penetration hurts as much as the last one. He had come knowing that Gabriel's body was shutting down from the pain.

He scrubs a hand over his face. He feels tired but when he looks back at his reflection in the mirror, all he sees is his impeccable, perfect self. He should start a career in poker, he thinks. He would succeed. Cocking his head at himself, he decides that he is going to apologize.

---

Gabriel pulls on a pair of light blue jeans and a simple gray t-shirt before he pads out barefooted to the homes' shared kitchen slash dining room. He had decided to make peanut butter and jam sandwiches for Chase and on second thought, Sam as well so that they could eat outside. Spring had just started. The sun is shining, and the air is fresh. He wants to make use of the day before he's needed back inside. Since it's a Sunday, the slowest day of the week, he hopes will get away with just one or two fucks.

Knowing the school week's ahead is enough to brighten him up. He likes school. Being able to focus on something other than his current situation is a relief. School nights also means that he has to walk the streets with the others; the working prostitutes. He does that every Monday to Wednesday. On Thursday and Friday, he'll be placed in a motel room for bookings that had been made during the week while Saturday is reserved for Lucas's 'friends'. Of course, there had been that one Friday where he was sent to the bench.

The 'bench' is a method thought by Alastair to 'help' keep them in line. It functions as a punishment technique. For clients who aren't able to afford the rate of a session, they get offered the bench. It's held every Friday night and with $15, each client has 10-15 minutes with whoever it was strapped to the bench. It's an effective way to break a person's psyche. It's extremely dehumanizing and the number of clients a night can mount up to the low forties. It is a win-win according to Alastair. They get to earn some money while having people to fuck them into submission.

He was never called for bench duty. But he guessed there's a first time for everything. Lucas had already rounded up about thirty confirmed clients. Most of them were construction workers working on the building a few blocks down. Unfortunately for him, Anna and Tessa had been behaving that week and strapping them to the bench would be counterproductive to the reward and punishment system they had going on. The only choice left was him.

His heart sank when Lucas brought him down to the basement Friday night. He had kept quiet while Lucas stripped him down and positioned him on the bench, stomach flat against the padded seat on his hands and knees as he secured the straps around his wrists and ankles. Then, Lucas knelt in front of him and stroked his cheek, before leaning in and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. When he pulled away, he whispered, "Just say the word and I'll release you."

There was a long pause but then Gabriel had shaken his head. If it's not him, it would be someone else. Better him than someone else. With that, Lucas stood and walked up the stairs, leaving him alone, heart thudding as he waited. After that, he was just an object to be used. The night dragged on in a haze of pain and humiliation and after the fifth person to use him, Gabriel let himself drift off. The only thing keeping him together was the mantra he kept repeating in his mind. Better him than someone else.

He didn't know how long it was before he felt someone unstrapped him. Lucas's face swam into view. His expression is unreadable, and moments later, he'd passed out in his arms. The days after that Lucas had been caring and attentive. He drove him to and from school, made him lunch and peppered him with affection. They even shared a bed a few nights in a row. He had been happy to get whatever Lucas's willing to offer and that few days were one of the best.

He's not delusional. He knows that what they have is not what people would call a 'healthy' relationship. For one, you don't trade your boyfriend for favors nor do you pimp him out for money. If he's going to be brutally honest with himself, he would say that what they have is a business relationship. A pimp and his whore. But there are times when Lucas would act a certain way, do a certain thing that makes him doubt, makes him feel. It's no secret that Lucas treats Gabriel differently from the others. That must mean something. Sometimes, just knowing that is enough.

He stops short when he walks into the kitchen. Anna is making sandwiches at the kitchen counter, slender fingers firm around the butter knife. She looks demure with her fiery red curls cascading down her shoulder over her lacy white blouse. She is pale but not the kind that alludes to sickness or from being inside too much but the kind that glows with a sort of radiance. Angelic and pure.

Somehow, the sight made him feel sadder, knowing what he knows. They're all far from innocent, Gabriel more so than the others but it had been a month now since the rest were forced into the scene. Anna looks up, sensing someone else in the room with her. Her large almond-shaped eyes fall on him. It's the first time he's seen her in weeks. He had been painstakingly avoiding the others and vice versa, unable to face any of them after what happened.

"Gabriel," she greets, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Anna," he returns. He debates turning around and coming back later but that would be weird. So he steels himself and rounds the kitchen counter, brushing past Anna as he reaches for the top cupboard to pull out three plates and a bread knife. He places them on the counter and asks, "Do you mind?" He gestures at the opened loaf of bread and the various spreads littering the table.

"No, go ahead."

He nods and starts preparing the sandwiches. The atmosphere in the kitchen is tense with unsaid words, the silence almost overbearing. In a normal social setting, Gabriel already found himself sufficiently lacking. He's awkward and out of tune, more often than not missing out on visual and verbal social cues. It's safe to say that he has no idea what to do in a situation like this. He is about to blurt out something, anything to get rid of the uncomfortable silence when Anna speaks.

"Why do you have three plates?"

"Oh. I'm eating lunch with Sam and Chase."

"Oh."

He nods again as he busies himself with the sandwiches. Anna puts the knife down, and he hopes she'll leave so that he can breathe properly again, but she doesn't move. Instead, she fusses around her sandwiches, brushing invisible crumbs off her plate. When he's done and is about to store the bread and spreads, Anna blurts. "Thank you."

He stills, stunned by the sudden declaration, peanut butter jar in one hand and jelly in the other. "What for?" he asks, surprised.

"You took the bench," she says, not in the form of a question, more like a statement. She's staring at him, eyes wide and wondering. "Why?"

Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, he shrugs. A lump has formed itself in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to speak. Anna continues to stare at him, as if trying to read him, expression curious. Then, as if a mask has been removed, her impassive demeanor shatters and in its place is pure raw vulnerability.

"If you hadn't, it would have been me." Her voice is wobbly as if she's about to cry. "They did it to me once and I-" She starts to tremble, hands coming up to hug herself tight.

"Anna..." he says completely at a loss. He doesn't know what to do or say to that. He feels like he should comfort her but he doesn't know how. Maybe a hug? But then he's afraid his touch would be unwelcomed.

"You could have said no. You didn't."

He quiets at that. Anna steps closer and takes the peanut butter out of his hand, placing it on the table. Then, taking his hand in hers, she gives it a squeeze. "Thank you," she murmurs as she fixes him with wide sincere eyes. His eyes burn as he stares down at their hands, the two words ringing in his ears. He had always bent over backward for others, but never has he had anyone acknowledging his efforts before, let alone thanking him for it.

It's overwhelming to hear those words from someone he thought hated him. There's genuine gratitude behind her shaky admission. Feeling his emotions running amok, he nods once before rushing to store the spreads, not looking at Anna as he did so. Then he grabs the three plates, balancing them carefully on his hands and flees the kitchen.

Before he exits, though he stops. With his back to Anna, he says in a soft but raw voice, "Thank you, Anna."

"What for?"

He turns around then, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "No one has ever thanked me before. Thank you for telling me."

Anna looks surprised but then her lips curl up into a smile. "You're welcome."

Gabriel returns her smile before he turns around, heart feeling lighter than it had been in days. There's a new bounce in his steps as he makes his way towards Chase's room. Maybe today isn't going to be so bad after all.