Kyle
Hopelessness and exhaustion. That's all the petite Angel called Kyle felt anymore.
Another day, another man to leave him feeling raw and used up.
It had been a month since Hector had taken Kyle as a slave. Only a month, but it felt like years. Years since he had seen the outside, years since he felt safe, years since he had seen Audrey.
Audrey... The name always wore away at his weary heart. A dull ache that never left no matter how much time passed. Kyle looked for him in all the clients. But there never was enough to keep him hopeful. The glint of mischief in green eyes was only the emotionless gaze of a horny stranger. And no matter how many Incubi he fucked on the daily, none of them had his ex-lover's alluring touch.
And it was the same story with the man taking him from behind. Rough, but passionless. Smelling of cigarettes and beer. It nauseated him, so Kyle zoned out all the while, staring off into space until the man finally released the grip on his throat. The man got what he came for (literally), and zipped his pants back up, straightened his tie and went on without so much as a glance in Kyle's direction.
Tired, Kyle fell on the bed and closed his eyes. If he wanted to sleep, as he usually did, the lobby outside his room was much too loud. Clinking glasses, boisterous laughter, and music all clashed with his need for peace. He covered his ears with his hands and desperately tried to shut out the noise, but to no avail.
For hours, he lay somewhere between sleep and conscious but not awake. When the bed shifted with the weight of another being, he felt the hot breath on his neck that sometimes surprised him. Kyle dismissed it as he usually did, blaming it on his lack of real rest or overwhelming anxiety. He rolled over to face the other way. Until he felt a hand on his hip, and startled, he jolted to sit up and peer, afraid, at the disturber of his nap.
