Breakdown - 3. 02 Sheep

Cam was standing on the street corner a week later like nothing had happened. He stared at the traffic, wondering if the lump in the back of his throat was ever going to go away. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that shivering, shuddering form, wasted and slender, with frothing spit at the corners of his mouth. Cam shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, trying to look sexy and fairly certain he was failing miserably.

He really didn't want anyone to pull over now.

Cam thought about walking into the room with the corpse of his friend. It had been small steel and white room. There had been large lights on the walls with X-rays over top of them, and instruments he didn't want to think about using. He thought about how the doctor had pulled back the sheet just enough for Cam to see Derek's withered, skinny face. The deep, sunken eyes and the purple lips. Cam had never seen a corpse before; he kept expecting Derek to open his eyes and say something to him.

His body was so thin under the white sheet. His toes stuck up in sharp points, tenting the fabric like a dismal carnival. Derek. Lifeless.

He'd identified him woodenly, with a voice that was like the dry rustle of leaves in an abandoned fairground. It had been one of the hardest things that he had ever had to do, and he never wanted to do it again.

Now, all Cam wanted to do was get shitfaced on beer and vodka and watch some kids cartoons. But instead, here he was standing on a street corner thinking about a friend that had died in his arms from an overdose. It made Cam a little afraid; he'd steered well-clear of all hard drugs for exactly that reason.

He almost missed the car that pulled up beside him. Startled by the sound of a voice from an open window, he gazed at it without understanding for several moments before bending to peer inside.

"Are you available?" the other asked. The car was sleek and black. The interior was dark, and the other's face was shaded. He was wearing a business suit.

"Yeah," Cam said. "What do you want?" He couldn't pull together his sultry tone. It seemed wrong.

"Get in," the other said.

"Don't you want to know how much?" Cam asked. He didn't want to get shorted.

The other smiled, like the gleam of a knife in the darkness. "I'm sure whatever you're asking for will be worth it."

Cam glanced down the street. As much as he didn't want to pretend tonight, he wanted to get yelled at (and possibly beaten) by his boss less. With a nod of his shaggy blonde head, he got into the car. He looked over at the other, better able to see him now that he was so close.

The whore had to suppress his surprise. The other was incredibly handsome with dark, shoulder-length shaggy hair and incredibly blue eyes. He shifted gears in his car and merged back onto the street.

"Your place?" Cam asked.

"Hotel," he replied.

Cam nodded, keeping his hands in the pockets of his green jacket. He looked out the window, getting the vibe that this guy didn't like to chat. If he was lucky, he'd fuck him once, pass out, and Cam could sleep the rest of the night.

The other was silent, driving his car with care through the streets. They left the seedy darkness of Cam's world and emerged into the well-lit upper-class. Cam hated it when his johns brought him here; somehow made the contrast between his world and theirs all the worse. You can't go up in life that easily, but you can certainly come down.

The drive was about twenty minutes. A valet took the car around back. A nice hotel loomed up before them, and his john got out. He followed after him, gazing up in wonder at the lit windows of the immaculate place. A large crystal chandelier was in the main foyer, watching over a room that was plush with leather furniture and the faint scent of cigar smoke.

His john didn't pause in the foyer, and neither did Cam. He followed him to the elevator, standing slightly apart from the man in the suit. He was taller than Cam by a couple inches, standing easily with one hand in the pocket of his suit pants. His dark hair just brushed his shoulders. Something about him was unnerving; Cam couldn't figure out what it was. He paid Cam no mind, obviously expecting him to just follow orders once they got to the room.

Cam leaned his head back against the fancy mirrored wall of the elevator. He knew the type. Some big-wig at some company that had a bad day, and wanted to reaffirm that they were in control. They wanted to dominate something, prove that someone would listen to their orders again. Whether they had a wife and kids at home was completely irrelevant; they would do things to Cam they would never dream of doing to their loved ones.

They disembarked the elevator and walked a ways down the hallway. He slipped a keycard into the door and went inside. Cam followed, trying to look calm and seductive.

The man closed the door behind him and removed his suit jacket. Cam removed his jacket, hanging it over a chair. He was wearing his usual attire; tight, low-riding jeans and a tight dark shirt. He was thin, and the tight shirt did little to hide the fact. The other appraised him when he removed his jacket, and Cam let him do so.

"How do you want to do this?" Cam asked. He lifted his head a little, his eyes glinting with mischief. Here, in the bedroom of the man that was going to be his meal ticket for the next day, he could concentrate on work. The small white room that held the corpse of Derek was far away.

"Strip for me," the dark-haired other said. "And then lay down on the bed."

Cam turned his back to the other. He drew his shirt over his back, exposing the smooth, creamy flesh over his back. His muscles were wiry and slim. He tossed the shirt to the side, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that his john was paying attention. The john was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Cam gave him a small smile as he started to undo his tight jeans. The other's attention was rapt as he slid his jeans over his hips, and then past his thighs. He left his briefs, black, on. A tease.

"Do you like what you see?" Cam asked.

The other's cold eyes flicked to his face. "Continue."

Cam held his breath; those eyes made it difficult to breathe. Biting his lip, he pulled his briefs down, letting his half-hard member escape the confines of cotton. He had long ago gotten over the shame of being nude in front of someone he didn't know. Now, he simply removed the last of his clothing. He pulled a condom from his pocket and slid back onto the bed, his legs slightly apart.

The other moved forward, looking down on Cam's sprawled form. Cam shifted his hips as the other looked at him.

"Want me to touch you?" Cam asked.

The john nodded, and Cam sat up. He looked up at his john as he undid the front of his pants. He squeezed the other's clothed groin, finding it hot and half-hard. Expertly, he kissed down his john's stomach and found the tip of his member with his lips. He offered it a soft, sucking kiss, moving his mouth down the shaft as he unraveled it from his clothes. It hardened quickly in his mouth.

The john ran his fingers through Cam's silky blonde hair. Cam sucked him a little deeper, hearing a soft, guarded moan from his lips. He bobbed up and down on his shaft twice, and then pulled off and looked up at him.

"Do you want to lie down?" he asked.

The john nodded, his dark hair falling around his incredibly icy blue eyes. Cam let him lay down on the bed, one hand behind his head. Cam then returned his attention to the jutting member before him. He lay so the other could look at his body while he sucked him, taking every inch of his shaft down his throat with practiced ease. He flicked his tongue along the underside of his shaft, squeezed the tip against his tongue, and sucked him deeply.

Cam was good at what he did, and the john could not resist his ministrations forever. Cam felt the other swell in his mouth. He let the other come over his tongue, looking up at his strained features while he felt the salty, sticky load trickle down the back of his throat.

When the other's climax had ebbed, Cam pulled back and wiped the corner of his mouth. His own erection was very obvious between his legs, twitching to the beat of his heart. The john shifted himself, looking at the whore's exposed body.

"Get on your stomach," he said softly.

Cam was surprised. He glanced to the other's groin, which was half-hard, but recovering quickly. The man seemed very eager, intent. It was like he had been waiting for this for a while now. His gaze was almost predatorial. Regardless, he obeyed.

His john took up the condom that he had put on the bed. Cam was thankful; that was not an argument he wanted to have with this guy. He held himself up on his elbows, looking back at the other. He pushed his ass into the air a little, spreading his legs. The john watched his motions, toying with the tip of his member while he did so. Cam tried to keep the sultry, aroused look on his face as he watched his john unroll the condom on his member.

Cam would have been lying if he had said he didn't enjoy his johns. It was true, some of them were terrible in bed, but most of them were pretty decent. Cam had loved sex ever since his first explorations with another boy when he was fourteen. At sixteen, he'd dropped out of school and made his way selling his body.

It'd been that way for... four years? Five years now?

The john smiled a little at him. "Enjoy your work?"

Cam kept the sultry smile firmly in place. "You have to, to do what I do."

The john removed his shirt and pulled his pants the rest of the way off. Cam watched him, noting the toned body (the result of a personal trainer?) and the long, graceful limbs. Cam hoped that he would be half-decent in bed; he was certainly hot enough to hold Cam's attention.

The other lay against his back. He was warm to the touch. Cam arched back against him. Lubrication was nice, but not a necessity. Whatever was on the condom would probably suffice.

He felt it press against him. The other waited for him to relax before he thrust into him. Cam gasped into the pillow, feeling himself spread and stretched. The pain didn't bother him anymore; he felt only the pleasure of something hard and thick in him. Slowly, he started to thrust his hips back against his john. The john put a hand on his hip, his breath hot in his hair.

As the pace quickened, Cam felt the teeth of the other touch the back of his neck and his shoulder. He moaned and thrust himself back with ever-increasing force against the john. Cam lost himself in the pleasure, wanting to feel the john come in him, and wanting to come under him. The john's hand slipped around and started to squeeze his member between thrusts.

The john was good. Cam was clawing at the pillows, panting with lust as his john kept the pace steady. Every time Cam attempted to thrust back and increase the pace, the john shoved him down and forced him to move more slowly. Cam whimpered.

"God, fuck me harder, please," he panted.

"Hm?" the john purred. "What do you want?"

"Fuck me harder!" Cam cried, writhing his hips.

There was a moment's hesitation, and then he responded to Cam's pleas. He thrust his hips harshly against the other, digging into him, spearing him on his hard flesh. Cam practically screamed when the other clashed his hips against his ass. He loved the feeling. He was so close; every muscle in his body coiling and begging for sweet release...

His climax was vicious. He jerked under the john, clawing at the sheets. The john seemed to very much appreciate both Cam's level of vocalization and his frantic writhing as he came. The john came inside of him shortly after, completing Cam's feeling of satisfaction.

"What is your name?" the john asked, slightly breathless.

"Cam," he replied.

The john smiled at him, wickedly cold. "A pleasure, Cam," he said softly. "My name is Aziel."