A little something I came up with in the late night hours. I´m a little skeptical about it, seeing as I can hardly see straight because of sleepiness, but I hope my english is understandible. :P

Warnings – sexual content and strong language. Go forth on your own risk. ~

Coarse hands with thick, short fingers were stroking manically through his dark curls, tugging at them slightly as the man muttered needily under his breath.
"Ohh, such a good boy , so beautiful, so soft, hmm, so pretty legs."
Honestly he didn´t understand why some of them kept up this act, it wasn´t like he needed flattery to give these fat pieces of shit what they wanted. Or more likely – it wasn´t like he could deny them.

He snorted inwardly as the man above him now started to woo his dick like it was a maiden in distress and bit his tongue to prevent a snide comment.
Though he was only listening with one ear, the bigger part of his attention were directed to the opposite side of the room. Where he was. The beautiful, blue eyed boy.
There was two men hovering above him, it usually was. The boy was quite popular, and quite the money attractor. He fishes all the loaded guys without having to do a thing. Well, except throwing his body to the wolfs of course.

The man above himself went at his hair again, petting it, combing it back over and over while placing sloppy, wet kisses along his neck and thereby blocking his view. He moaned in irritation making the man above him perk in delight.
"That´s it my boy, would you tell me your name?" He fought the urge to roll his eyes as the man placed a particularity fat finger in his disgustingly wet mouth and sucked it in a attempt to look appealing, then when he didn´t answer his question he withdrew his finger from his mouth and moved it to his instead, slowly stroking his lips with the damp, fat, finger.

He felt slightly disgusted, but decided to play along, seeing as that would be the fastest way to get rid of him. So he opened his mouth slightly and gently sucked the man´s fingertip, then he bit down a little harder while flashing the man his best "come-hither" expression. The man let out a comical sound, much in the resemblance of an moose then withdrew his finger again with an expectant look on his face.

"Blaine." He finally declared and thereby inducing an abrasion of his name. That´ll keep him busy for awhile, Blaine thought and smirked as he resumed his observation on the other side of the room again. The boy, now significantly less clothed (even though the boys here didn´t wear much clothes to begin with) , looked at the two men with big eyes that looked questioning and wary, one hands was outstretched, reaching for one of the men´s hips, and when he reached it the man spoke.

"He´s dead sweetcheeks" Eyes cruel and lips crawled up in a mocking smirk. Dead.
Everything froze as the boy, currently clutching desperately at the hem of the man´s shirt tried to wrap his head around the words. But all they did was pound painfully in the back of his head. It felt like the world had stopped spinning and the heartbeats stopped their eternal rhythm. His father was dead.

The beautiful boy was staring forward with a blank expression, not focusing on anything while his hand unconsciously clasped and unclasped the man´s shirt. His lips parted and shivered slightly as he let out a shaky breath, seemingly trying to collecting himself, because there were no grieving breaks at this place, no place to hide, nowhere to flee to cry. Tears had no effect on these men except for when they used it to their advantage in some twisted fetish fantasy. Blaine thought bitterly as the break that had only lasted for a few seconds, was disturbed. Because a few seconds are all you are worth before you are snapped back to reality.

One of the men jerked the boy by the chain of his necklace, then two rough hand slammed his slender body down on his back on the worn down mattress on the far end corner of the obscure room. The blue eyes lowered their flat stare from the roof and like so many times before, found the intense hazel ones across the room. Blaine held their gaze, trying to mentally reassure him that it´ll be okay. To stay strong, and to just keep looking him in the eyes until it was all over, and to block out all the sounds but no matter how intense and strong his gaze where, Blaine knew there was no way to escape.

You could still hear the muffled grunts, pained cries and broken whimpers coming from various directions. You could hear the repetitive pounding of a headboard somewhere on the upper floor and the sound of flesh being slammed together in a furious pace.

"Listen to the symphonies boys" Blaine remembered a man had said to the pack of boys, including himself, when they had first stepped through the doors of the house they have come to call hell. "Isn´t it beautiful?" The man had paced back and forth in front of them, smiling appreciative as he examined them with those dark eyes. Then he stopped in front of a tall, skinny boy with bright blue eyes, and leaned in close to the boy´s face. "Isn´t it..." he tugged at the boy´s shirt around the neck, reveling a necklace. "Kurt?"
The boy, Kurt, had whimpered then, trying to lean away from the man, making him sneer. "Oh don´t worry, you´ll be a part of the symphony soon enough sweetheart." Then he had stalked off, ordering the men waiting in the corners to do their business.

He had been so scared then, as had Blaine. But so much has changed since then. A whole year has past and the only thing he´s fearing now is the loss of the gaze that he was currently captive in. He is the only thing that matters. Kurt is the only thing that make him feel something, Blaine realized as the fatty above him grabbed hold of his legs and pulled them up.

Without breaking his eye contact with Kurt he understood the man´s silent request and lifted his legs and placed them on the man´s broad shoulders. He was rewarded with a urgent, five-second fingering session before he was given the real deal. He should consider himself lucky, usually the stretching isn´t an option at all, seeing as Blaine, and all the other boy´s are the product, and the customers isn´t obliged to make it pleasant for the product. There is no strings and no catch with these products and it isn´t unheard of that someone is killed during a session. Some people like it rough.

Blaine grunted slightly as the man pounded deeper and harder inside him, sweating like a pig in the process. He felt himself moving up a couple inches for every thrust and soon the man had to hold him still by pressing the fat and sweaty hands on his shoulders, sobbing out desperate but increasingly rougher sentences.
"Oh, Blaine, let me take care of you, make some noises for me Blaine. There you go. You like me don´t you, like my cock. Urgh, yeah you do, beautiful Blaine, I´m gonna fuck your sweet, tight ass so hard"

Blaine watched Kurt as the man continued his rant and smirked knowingly when the usual request of making some noises came. A mischievous glint sparkled in his hazel eyes as he played along with the act. He moaned in a overly obvious way while still keeping the blue eyes glued to his.

"Yeah, I really like that. Hmm Yeah your cock feels so awesome pounding inside me. Hmm. Yeah fuck me you sexy, sexy man." He wriggled his eyebrows at Kurt as he continued his obvious fake moaning, and was delighted that, even though it didn´t reach his eyes, a smile was still playing on the pink lips.But Blaine was determined to make him forget for a while and make him laugh, so he increased his efforts by doing breathing exercises for child birth. Two fast inhales one deep exhale. Two fast inhales one deep exhale. "HiHi Hoo" Blaine pouted his lips excessively at every exhale making sure to look as ridiculous as possible, and just as he was about to start moaning "Puuush" the melodic laugh rang harmoniously trough the room. Blaine immediately stopped his moaning and relished in the sound as he smiled as warmly as humanly possible when a fat walrus is thrusting repetitively against you while spraying your inside with it´s seed.

Blaine barley noticed the man slipping out of him and then collapsing beside him, roughly placing an arm around his waist and spooning him, not even when the man started snoring against his neck did he budge his gaze, that was how they both fell asleep, watching each other, a silent promise lingering in their eyes. "We´ll never let them get to us."

Four years later

"Kurt, Sweet cheeks, you gotta get out of that apartment! Get some air, see some people, meet some pretty guys."
Kurt could practically hear the wriggle of eyebrows through the phone but he wasn´t up for jokes today, not any day actually.
"Don´t call me that." He snapped at her, knowingly avoiding Mercedes advise. It had been three years since he was saved from that place, but he still didn´t like it when people, not even his friends, gave him pet-names.

"Sorry, Kurt. But really, you can´t expect us to just sit by and allow you to celebrate you birthday alone in your apartment?"
Kurt sighed, making it very clear that was just what he had planned on. Though, by the tone of Mercedes voice he could tell he wouldn´t slip by easily.
"Boy , you´re turnin´20 years old! That calls for some major drinking-till-you-pass-out celebration!" Kurt stayed silent, pondering his options. The best alternative would probably be to do as she says, seeing as she, and all the others would most likely barge into his apartment if he didn´t go out with them. And he really didn´t want them to see how messed up he was living.

He let his gaze wander across the room. He had covered the window with an old bed sheet, blocking out the sun, still not having adjusted to the brightness of daylight. His bed was missing one leg, so Kurt had balanced it with one of his drawers, leaving a provoking gap in his dresser, that was filled with a messy bundle of the few clothes he had left. His floor was stained with three years worth of cleaning, even though you could barely see the floor to begin with, given the fact that it was covered in dirty laundry and old newspapers. On the end of the room was the kitchenette. Though the fridge barely worked and the stove was black with grease and grime. And the bathroom wasn´t even worth mentioning. Yeah, it would probably be best to do as she says, that is what he do best after all. Please others.

"Okay." He finally exclaimed with a weary sigh, interrupting the never- ending attempts of prompting.
"What?" She said, sounding baffled. Kurt almost smiled. Almost.
"Okay, I´ll go with you guys, to whatever... You´ve got planned." He sighed again, taking a deep breath and did his best to sound cheerful. "You´re right, I need to get out. It´ll be...Fun."

He frowned at how strained it sounded but Mercedes was gabbling excitedly in the other end, blissfully unaware of Kurt´s dissatisfaction. Suddenly she was silent, and Kurt could hear her hesitation in the way she was sucking in a breath, then releasing it as if she was going to say something, but ended up taking another deep breath. Kurt waited, but when she finally spoke, he wished he hadn´t.

"Kurt... I know it´s been hard... With everything, and I just want you to know that you can talk to me, you can tell me anything you want, I´ll understand, okay?." The silence that emerged was suffocating, but Kurt couldn´t get himself to answer her. He knew she just wanted to be a good friend, but she´d never understand. No one does. Through the three years he had been free there had been several counselors and psychiatrists and shrinks nodding sympatheticly at him, as if they understood what he´d been through, but Kurt could see the skepticism and judgment playing in their eyes. Sometimes they would even question him, as if they blamed him. People didn´t believe boy toy faggots like him, just like they wouldn´t believe a hooker saying she got raped.

He clenched his teeth and steeled himself not to go down that line of thoughts and quickly changed the subject.
"So when are we meeting up? I think I need some time to tame this hair of mine." He said in a poor attempt of a joke.
Mercedes let out another deep sigh but seemed to order herself to let it be seeing as it should be a carefree day for him.
"I was thinking 7 pm at my place for a little pre-party before we head out."
Great, then he had... 5 hours to get ready. Mentally more then physically.
"Sounds good, see you later then."

They said their goodbyes and Kurt hung up gratefully as he collapsed on the unmade bed, making it wobble ominously for a few seconds.
Kurt rose his hand to his hair, combing it back through his fingers and decided he needed a shower. He sat up again, leaving the phone on the bed, while picking up a pair of jeans on the floor on his way to the bathroom. His old skin-tight jeans to be precise. Though they wearn´t tight anymore, which was saying something seeing as he bought them when he was 15. Only a couple of month before he was captured. Though he had been pretty chubby back then.

He waddled towards the tiny bathroom, taking the shirt that had been hanging there since Wednesday then he closed the door behind him, locking it,even though he was living alone and his front door was locked. He was just happy that he had the opportunity to actually have some privacy. That was something he didn´t have for those two years of captivity.

He jiggled out of his pajama-pants once again trying to avoid looking himself in the full-body mirror that would only reveal the several scars and marks all over his body as he stepped inside the shower. He turned the handle and waited for the water to turn clear then letting the flow wash over him and even though he had ordered himself not to think about it, his mind disobeyed him as it wandered back to all the psychiatrist and shrinks and doubtful looks.

They had said that: "He is not willing to cooperate." Kurt snorted at the line. Such fancy words. It was easy throwing that line making it seem like he was the bad guy. But they didn´t understand that he couldn´t tell them. He could only give them vague answers because they still had him on a leash. They still owned him, even though he was physically free from their imprisonment. But one slip, one name or location and he, and everyone he cared about would be dead. Of course he couldn´t tell the shrinks that. So they simply put him in a mental health facility for a year, stuffing him with all sorts of medication in lack of better things to do.

He still took some of the medications. Some for depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He glanced at the little mountain of white pill containers on the sink. Those together with the multiply treatments he got at the mental health facility that first year had made some things blurry in his memory. Granted, that was probably the point – to make him forget about the traumatic experiences, but they still haunted him. It was only the details that had been eradicated, like the names and faces. They where all mixed together in his head, leaving him with the raw knowledge instead.

He remembered

Not the voices but the words. "You´re worthless, nothing but a fucktoy , you´re alone, He´s dead"
Not the bodies but the pain. Memories of how he was fucked and beaten to the brick of death, humiliated, videotaped , spat on, forced, used and taken over
and over, and worst was when he had to act like he wanted it. When he acted seductive and willing, being the pretty boy that attracted in all the big money.

It was all etched in his skin. The fear and pain was planted in his very core. The distrust. The way he would be paralyzed with fear when someone touched him, even when someone looked at him in that way. That was one of the main reasons he wasn´t going outside more then to buy supplies. He didn´t even trust his friends anymore.

Kurt remembered when his friends had first came to visit him in the mental facility. He had been on his medication for a week and the memories had already began to blur together. He had lied in his bed, with his back turned to the door, listening to music for the first times in several months. Therefore he hadn´t heard or seen when his group of friends had entered the room. So when Finn had bolted towards him, and flung his arms around Kurt´s waist he had yanked away, screaming and pleading while he had struggled to get free from the sheets and fallen out of the bed, crawling to the corner of the room, facing the wall, crunched up in fetal position, with his face hidden in his arms while he was screaming and sobbing his lungs out. It wasn´t until the nurse had barged in and given him sedative that he had turned around, and seen the terrified look on Finn´s face. They all stayed on a fair distance after that.

Kurt laughed bitterly as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a hopefully clean pair of boxers hanging over the dysfunctional radiator. He wiped himself of quickly with his only towel then quickly slipped into his clothes. Then reluctantly turning to the mirror, beginning to work some sense into the birds nest he called hair. He ruffled it with the towel to get it dry and cursed himself for not taking better care of his hair. It had resulted a lot of split ends and together with months of not having combed it properly, and years of limited showers had led to it being all frazzled and... Curly.

A familiar jolt sparkled in his chest as he pushed his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at one particularly curly lock before releasing it and reaching for his straightener. It was way out of age, but magically still functioning. But as he straightened his unruly hair he couldn´t help but feel like there was something he had forgotten. He felt something intense deep inside him. Like some kind of sparkling hope, and his chest jolted every time he was close to clutching the memory but it always slipped out of his grasp before he could even give it a tiny peek.

He grunted in frustration. What was the memory he had suppressed about. Or... Who?

Yeah, there we go. Did you like it? I don´t know if I should continue it. I usually get these random plot ideas and they turn out to be rubish when I write them down. But please tell me if I should continue it. And if you do, what do you expect to happen? :3 Tell me what you think of it, and what I could improve. I know I need a Beta, but I can´t get hold of one.

Well, nighty nighty sweet cheeks, Imma sleep now.