Title: For the Night
Pairing/s: Merlin/the john (aka Cenred)
Character/s: Merlin, Cenred
Summary: An impulse decision fueled by desperation lands Merlin in an unforeseen and greatly unwanted situation. From there, it all quickly snowballs out of control.
Warnings: prostitution, soliciting sex, dirty talk, foreplay, mentions of voyeurism with a minor present, horrible terrible non-existent parenting, no underage sex or pedophilia
Word Count: 1600
Prompt: 353: impulse
Author's Notes: Sorry about this. I watch too much true crime...
A soft breeze dances down the pavement, leaping along the brick facade of the nearly empty pub and tickling Merlin’s hair up across his forehead. He shivers, the sheer mesh shirt he’s wearing not nearly enough protection from the teasing fall weather. The season is turning and soon, despite the plummeting temperatures, work will pick up again. The colder weather is brutal for the workers, but kids back in school and men being cooped up all day is the perfect recipe for anxious johns desperate for a good fuck and a fresh new body to keep them warm at night.
But business is still too slow, the streets littered with a few families out enjoying the last few days of summer together and men more interested in a night with their mates than a scantily clad fuck boy working the corner.
Merlin sighs, leaning back against the pub, the chill from the cooled bricks sapping the warmth from his back. He knows he should go back inside and try to push his luck with the few drunkards sprawled around the place, but he can’t bring himself to. Better to go a bit numb with cold and maybe score outside than give a messy blow to Old Man Simmons from down the block for a meager ten.
After fifteen minutes though, Old Man Simmons is starting to look more and more appealing than striking out again. He needs something, anything at this point.
With another sigh, Merlin levers himself off the wall to make his way back inside the pub. But he pauses as a dark-haired man approaches from down the street, trying to disguise the fact that he’s watching. Merlin easily slides into a seductive pose, eyes lidded, lips curling at the edges as he fingers the belt loops of his low-slung tight jeans. The man’s gaze is hungry, following the shift of his hips up to his nipples to settle on his lips. Merlin wets them and the man’s eyes latch onto the movement of his tongue.
When he reaches him, the man mimics Merlin’s smile and Merlin thrums with perverse pride. He’s reeled in a shark.
“Hey sweetheart,” the man says in a voice cool like water, leaning an arm against the bricks beside Merlin. “How much for the night?”
Merlin steps into his space and runs a teasing finger down the opening of the man’s shirt. “Depends what you’re looking for?”
“Whatever I want.”
Merlin runs his hand over the waistband of the man’s jeans. “$250.”
The man scoffs, eyes sliding over Merlin’s revealing form. “I’ll give ya $100.”
With a shake of his head, Merlin pushes himself flush against the man and turns his hips a little to rub him just right. “That’s not—“
“Fine, piss off then.”
A wave of irritation washes through Merlin as the man turns away. He can’t afford to strike out again tonight. This month has been hard enough with too many dry spells as of late, forcing Merlin venture where he wouldn’t and stay out hours beyond what he usually does just to scrape by. He’s managing, just barely. But barely isn’t good enough. His pride, however, won’t let him take any sort of cut. He’s worked hard to get to these prices and doesn’t want to lower himself back down just to satisfy some drunk bloke searching for a cheap lay.
Before he can even think further though, impulse pushes Merlin after the man. “No, wait.” He links his arm through the john’s with a sultry smile. “Lead the way, handsome.”
The way turns out to be several dark alleys escorting them to a dingy hotel a few blocks from the pub. Merlin latches himself into his newest john, putting on a flirtatious performance of caresses and rubbing intermixed with purring promises of a pleasurable night. The john is receptive and responsive, eager hands roaming places just on the border of acceptable for public places. But soon enough they are stumbling down a dimly lit hallway of the hotel, hands no longer kept in check, lips leaving trails of kisses and marks. The john is fumbling with the keycard outside his door, more than a little distracted as Merlin suckles unrelenting at his neck with a hand massaging him to hardness through his jeans.
“Mmmm need you.” Merlin purrs, breathing into the john’s sensitive inner ear. The john shivers, fingers digging hard into Merlin’s ass.
“I’ll fuck you real good, sweetheart. You won’t be able to walk for a week. Ruin you for all others.”
Merlin plows through in his ministrations of the john. They all say that. They all think they’ll be the one he will remember, the best lay he ever had, the man who leaves his mark on him. And some have, carving the evidence of their night together in a few sharp scars on his body. None worth cherishing in the least bit.
But Merlin would be a fool not to play into it.
Finally, the door clicks open and they stumble into the room, the john shoving his tongue down Merlin’s throat while ineffectively trying to tear his shirt off. Merlin follows, giving as the man takes, only breaking apart for a second to allow the man to free him of his shirt before it tore at the seams.
Without a word, the john shoves Merlin backward and he falls splayed out onto the nearest bed, bouncing with the force of it. He’ll be rough, Merlin can already tell. He mentally prepares himself for the array of bruise and aches he’ll limp home with. Just another night’s work.
Its as the john is fumbling at Merlin’s fly, trying to claw his way through the denim that Merlin is finally able to take in the hotel room. And that they are not alone.
“Jesus!” Merlin scrambles out from under the john and to his feet beside the bed, his heart beating wildly.
For there on the other bed sits a boy, no more than five or six, utterly silent and still, his wide eyes following Merlin’s every move.
Merlin gawks at the child for a beat before leveling his anger at the john. “What the f—frick! There’s a kid!”
He can scarcely believe what he is seeing. Why the hell is there a kid in the john’s hotel room? A room, that he had knowingly and willingly brought Merlin to in order to fuck him. The poor kid had probably so far tonight seen a whole lot more than he ought to. And probably would have caught the whole damn show if Merlin hadn’t taken notice of him.
What the fuck was going on?
“Ignore him, he won’t bother us. He knows not to disturb his father during playtime.” The john tries to pull Merlin back toward the bed but Merlin steps out of reach. He fumbles to fix his pants and make himself more PG friendly.
“Ignore him—you can’t be serious. I’m not doing—“ Merlin gestures to the john and himself to emphasize his point, “—this in front of a kid!”
The john scoffs, annoyance straightening his shoulders. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.”
Horror rocks Merlin back onto his heels. “Jesus!” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, almost unwilling to believe what he’s hearing. But one look at the little boy sitting frozen at the head of the other bed, eyes wide with signs of fear and recognition and he knows this isn’t some sick joke. “No, we’re done here.”
Merlin grits his teeth and snatches up his shirt, making to push passed the john. But a hand latches onto his bicep like a vice and he’s pulled back, harsh and demanding. Merlin stumbles, nearly crashing back onto the bed when the back of his knee hit the mattress.
The john’s playfulness is gone, a threat having taken its place as he steps into Merlin’s space and pulls him close with a hand to his ass. “We’re just getting started. You’re mine for the night.”
With a growl, Merlin pushes him away. “Not anymore, I’m not.”
He purposely doesn't look at the kid, unsure if he can stand to see the fear he himself undoubtedly put there. He’s not sure what this kid has been exposed to in his life—from what his father hinted at in the short time they’ve been here, it’s more than he ever should—but Merlin can make damn sure he’s not the cause of more. And when he gets out of this room, he can ensure the police become aware as well. He might get jail time for it but damn the consequences, this kid should not be exposed to the exploits of his father.
“I’m paying you.” The john steps into Merlin’s path, effectively blocking his exit. Merlin tries to snuff out the hints of panic and fear bubbling up inside him. “You’re staying the whole night and giving me what I paid for.”
“You haven’t paid me anything.” Not that it matters at this point. Merlin can’t and won’t do anything with a child in the room. That’s way beyond crossing the line.
“Here.” The john pulls a wad of bills from his jeans pocket and throws them at Merlin’s feet. He flashes Merlin a cocky smirk. “Now strip like a good little whore and I might even let you cum.”
“No, I’m done.” A few bills crunch underfoot as Merlin pushes the john in the chest, letting the fear and anger strengthen him. “You can keep your damn money.”
The john stumbles back and Merlin leaps at the pathway open to the door.
He doesn’t make it far.
Arms wrap around his chest in a full body assault and he’s dragged forcibly back into the room and thrown to the ground at the foot of the far bed. The bed where the small boy sits silent and watching, confusion and fear welling in his eyes.
“I said, strip.”