FicWad

Ryan sat at the vanity backstage of the club, applying his makeup in an attempt to cover up his black eye. He hated doing this, but he needed to make money and to be honest, it was the only thing he was good at. He sighed, finishing the rose that covered his eye before putting his mask on, making it to where only the tips of the rose stood out. He stood, walking over to the stage where his 'partner' stood. It happened every once in a while, when their boss thought Ryan wasn't going to pull off that good of a performance, he pushed the overly buff kid with short black spiky hair and multiple piercings onto the stage with him.
But none of that mattered, because Ryan knew he was going to be there, sitting in the audience, waiting for the show. He was always there, watching with a slight dazed look on his pretty little face. Then again, he might leave like he did the last time Ryan walked onto the stage with his 'partner.' Ryan leaned against the wall, looking down at his cut up feet. He wanted to see him. To make him smile, to hear him laugh, to hear him talk, to know his name...
One of the girl workers, a feather dancer, and her fire breathing partner walked off the stage, the fire breather putting his hand on Ryan's shoulder.
"Good luck kid." He said. Ryan nodded. No one here knew his name, other than his boss, who just called him George, and he didn't know any of the other workers anyway. They all just kind of blended into one person for Ryan. His partner gave him a small smile, and Ryan walked onto the stage, his eyes automatically going to the table he knew that the brown haired boy would be sitting at. He was there, smiling at Ryan with the long haired blond worker sitting at the table with him. Ryan closed his eyes, feeling his partners presence behind him.
"Ready to dance?" He whispered in an accent that Ryan could never place. He gave a short nod, and his partner took one of his hands, spinning him once before pulling out his whip, cracking it against the floor where Ryan stood. It was close to hitting his feet, but it was always close to hitting his feet. They started their intricate dance, his 'tamer' as they called him backstage, getting a firm grip on Ryan to turn him on, giving him light kisses and bites down his neck before tearing off his vest. All while keeping times with the beat of the music, dancing like they always did. He pressed his lips against Ryans, quickly biting his bottom lip before tugging at it, making it bleed slightly.
He let one of his hands lightly trace the inside of his thigh, moving up towards his already hardening member. It was, of course, all apart of the act, but Ryan always had the sense of regret when he had to do this on stage. His hand slipped inside of Ryan's overly tight pants, pulling out his cock, before stroking it. Ryan gave a light moan, one that went perfectly in time with the music.
The song was close to ending, and Ryan knew what he was going to have to do to end it. Or rather, what his 'partner' was going to do to him. He stroked Ryan's member a few times, making Ryan throw his head back in pleasure while he moaned lightly. His partner smirked, pushing Ryan to the floor like he always did, and ended it with one last crack of his whip while the lights went out.
Ryan's partner extended his hand for Ryan to take, helping him get on his feet once again. "Want me to uh...help with your little problem down there?" his partner asked as he picked up his vest from the floor. Ryan shook his head, not saying a word as he walked off the stage. It was, just an act, that's it.
He picked up his bag and moved over to one of the washrooms, quickly closing and locking the door before sliding down it. He was sweating slightly, but he was no longer panting. He looked down at his still hard cock, and groaned a little, willing it to go down. After a minute of waiting, he finally wrapped his hand around it, tracing up it slowly with his thumb, reaching the top so he could smear the beads of pre-cum down his length. He let out a soft moan, his mind going to the boy who sat at the back of the club. Ryan always had the picture of him crystal clear in his mind, making it easy to jack off to it. His finger traced the pulsing vein from base to tip, adding slight pressure, which made him moan slightly louder than his last few. Granted, he still needed to keep it somewhat quite. He didn't want anyone listening in on him.
He felt guilty imagining that it was the boy he had never met before that was slowly rubbing him out, but he continued to anyway. He slowly started pumping himself, gradually going faster. He bit his bottom lip, holding in any moans that wanted to slip out. Though, when he got the familiar bubbling feeling showing that he was close to cumming, he let a few out. He knew how soft and girly they were, not that he really cared. It's not like he was planning on ever having a girl that would make him feel non masculine in his life. He let out a soft groan, cumming into his hands while practically choking on his stifled screams of pleasure while he bucked his hips, continuing to stroke himself to milk his orgasm for all it was worth.
He stayed still for a minute soon after using some paper towels to wipe off his hands before standing. He was still somewhat light headed and dazed from his moment of bliss, making it slightly difficult to change into his normal clothing. One tattered pair of jeans, a black v-neck, and a black and grey striped scarf that was slightly frilled. He put his stage clothing into his bag, taking off his mask before putting it in the bag with the rest of his things. He slipped on his old battered shoes with at least three holes on each side while he walked out of the washroom, not saying a word to anyone he passed as he walked to his bosses office.
"George!" His boss said happily a large grin spread across his face. "That was a great performance today. I think you'll notice I gave you a little something extra for it." Ryan nodded, taking the wad of cash that his boss handed him. It was part of having Ryan as a worker, he refused to take anything other than cash. Because cash was untraceable, it was simple, easy really and no one needed to know his full name to give it to him or take it from him.
Sometimes, he wondered if anyone remembered his full name. If he was the only one who knew it. He pocketed the money, walking out the back door of the club in an attempt to go home. He wasn't looking forward to it, it was always the worst part of the day. And yet he would always end up going home. He dug his pack of cigarettes from the depths of his pockets, quickly lighting it with a match. He brought the vanilla flavored cancer stick up to his lips, taking a long drag before slowly letting the smoke out as he continued to walk by the busy street. No one said anything to him. No one asked him if he was old enough to smoke. If he was old enough to be out past two in the morning. If he was lost. If he was feeling okay. If he was on drugs. If he had a place to sleep. He didn't even get a fucking sorry from the people that pushed past him and knocked him down. Because in this world, no one gave a fuck about him.
He walked up the steps to the manor that his family called a home. He wasn't included in that family, and yet he still lived there. Because his father got off on making him feel worthless. And he was too young to get his own place anyway. He closed the door, taking off his old shoes next to his family's clean and new ones. It looked like his father had guests, but he always did. He let the cigarette dangle between his lips while he walked past the living room in an attempt to get upstairs before his father realized he was home. Of course, it still seemed to fail. Nothing all that unusual.
"There's my son!" He said somewhat drunkenly, all of his friends dressed to impress in their expensive suits like always. It was apart of the business, the 'family' business. The one that Ryan would be in charge of someday.
The hell if that was going to happen.
He walked over to his father instinctively, knowing what he would get if he did. Or more what he would get if he didn't.
"How was work?" His dad asked as he tried to make himself look like he cared about Ryan's life in front of his friends. All though, they both knew that he didn't care. He didn't even know what the hell Ryan did when he was out.
"Fine." Ryan said looking bored as he took the cigarette from his lips, tapping it to let the ash fall off before putting it back between the two.
"That's good. Here, I know what you need." His father held out the little bag of red tablets that Ryan always needed. It was the only thing that kept him together. It was the only thing that helped his heart condition. That allowed him to breathe. He took the bag, muttering a thanks before slipping out of the room without another word. Ryan walked up the stairs to his room.
He slammed the door shut, tossing his bag carelessly to the side of the room before wandering over to his bed, undressing while he walked. He flopped down on the soft sheets in only his boxers, staying on his chest while snuggling into the warm bed. Arms on the pillow that he laid his head, legs stretched to where his feet dangled off of it. Letting his mind wander over to the boy that sat in the back of the club. Maybe it would be worth getting to know one of the girls that worked there so he could know his name. He frowned, he had lost his voice when it came to speaking to people outside of his house. Other than in dire situations. He took the last drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke out slowly before putting it out on the headboard. His head flopped down on the pillow as he stared out the window.
If he could just get enough money to leave. Or at the very least get the ingredients to make the pulls that he needed to live. Then he'd always be fine. He wouldn't need his father, his mother, his siblings, he wouldn't need anything. Nothing other than those damned red pills. The only thing that tied him to his family. Ryan frowned, maybe he could try to steal it again. What were the chances that he would get the same punishment as last time? He would try again. He had to.
Ryan could only hope that tomorrow would be better.


~~~~~

Free metaphorical cookies to whoever guesses what the 'family business' is.
Katrian_Adams: Glad you like it so far.
PartyPoison: Only half of the things I write are good. Like only two of the stories that I've posted on this site are readable, but I'm glad you think that their all amazing. Someone has to, right? And honestly, I adore everything you write.
-xoxo Pansy.