by Aline


The first and only time Toby got a "D" in High school, for a literature paper he'd been spending so much time on, he didn't feel like going straight back home ... A "D" wasn't supposed to happen to him, or any member of his family.

"She hates me," he muttered, stunned, and angry "Bitch just hates me; I should've got a B, at least."

He crossed the road and left his usual path; getting a bit lost would be good. He went down to the old deserted warehouses on the east side of town -that's where he saw her; short skirt, endless tanned legs, long wavy hair, she was carrying a paper bag, food and drinks probably. He saw her stroll across the deserted place, stop at the bottom of a wooden warehouse, take off her high heel sandals to go up the ladder, unseen, and crawl inside.

To meet someone.

That intrigued the hell out of him; he carried the picture of the girl back home and in his dream; jerked off thinking about her.

The day after he took the same way round and saw her again, then it was Sunday and Cordelia Beecher 60th's birthday; not the kind of event you were allowed to miss, not even a single second of it; besides, Toby loved his grandmother and wanted to be there early, before the party even began.

Monday no girl but a boy instead, brown long entangled hair, cool looking, same kind of bag in his hands; his climbing the ladder was faster, he stayed a bit longer; sneaking nearer Toby could see his expression when he left. Flushed and dreamy, his clothes slightly messy, swaying a bit, a little dazed. The girl had had the same look and it didn't take much to guess what made them look that way.

OK, there was someone upstairs, probably hiding, and friends brought him food. Him. In Toby's world, girls didn't hide in deserted warehouses among rats. Actually boys didn't either but that at least was something his imagination could picture.

He came there everyday, found new reasons to be home later.

"You're only 14, Toby," his mother said with a frown "I don't like you staying outside for too long."

"I'm not alone, we're some friends..."

That earned him a dubious look; "friends" was a new word in Toby's vocabulary.

Within a week three different girl and a boy came to visit the man hidden upstairs. Then no one came for two days and Toby began wondering. At the end of a very boring and warm Friday he couldn't stand it any longer, he made a detour via an old grocery, far enough from the place he lived and bought Coke, sandwiches, cookies. Hesitated, added a bottle of gin. And cigarettes. If he had to do it, he had to do it right.

"Too young to buy alcohol, boy," the old toothless guy behind the desk told him, but Toby waved a 20 dollar note under his nose and that did it.

He walked back to the warehouse, heart racing, and stayed there for a while, looking up. He couldn't do that, what would the ... person hidden upstairs think? Who was he, how old? Maybe he was dangerous, maybe he was a fugitive and the mere thought of it made him snort; what the hell; he had to know.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Toby," he father used to tell him.

He climbed the ladder, holding the bag in one hand and crawled inside.

Smelled dust and heat and something else, something he'd never smelled before, looked around.

Heavy darkness, wooden floor striped here and there with dusty sunrays, and broken glass, old tools, stuff everywhere.

"Hey!" he mewled, his voice catching in his throat.

He heard the rustling nearby and strong hands dragged him across the place to a sun scattered patch.

A chuckle.
"Who the fuck..." another chuckle and a stunned voice asking "who the fuck are you?"

"My name's Toby. I saw... There was no one coming anymore; I thought you'd be hungry. I brought you..."

He couldn't finish; fingers brushed against his forehead, combing back loose sweaty blond strands, pulling his hair back to take a better look.

"Jesus, a kid."
"I'm not a kid, I'm 14."
"Yeah, big boy, sure. What the hell..." The voice sounded amused, not angry, Toby noticed. "How did you know I was here?" "I saw a girl the other day climb up; then the day after, and a boy on Wednesday." "You mean you came here everyday to spy on me, right?"

"Yes, no, it's not about spying; I thought you might need help."

He could make him up now; older than him, taller, messy dark hair, long strong face, hard mouth and eyes bluer, darker, deeper than his own, like a deep changing sea; a wary expressions and the fingers on his shoulders were bruising.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Toby didn't know. He didn't know but he heard something new in the guy's voice, something that said he shouldn't mess with him, really not. He kept his eyes on the hard mouth for a moment and the grip loosened.

"OK, what did you bring?"

Toby watched him as he unpacked the things he'd bought. "Gin? Who let you buy that?"

It wasn't really a question; and Toby didn't bother to answer; he was staring, he realized, staring at the taut muscles under the tanned smooth skin, the way the guy moved like a big wild animal; the beauty of it. Jesus, what was happening to him?

"Did you ever taste gin, at least? You look like some fucking uptown kid to me."

"I had some for Christmas."

"Liked it?"

Horrified, Toby heard some kind of delighted purr leave his own mouth, and the guy laughed.

"What do you want, little boy?"

"I'm not so little and you..." Toby's gaze roamed over the hard features, the face turned to him, "are not so old."

"Yeah, right, whatever, you're as old as you feel..."

The guy rose and stepped up to him, crouched in front of him, trapping Toby's chin between his fingers. "Ok, last try and after that I kick your nice sweet ass out of here. What-do-you-want?"

Toby closed his eyes, smelling the gin on the other's lips, too near. "What did the others want?"

A lazy silence stretched; a frightening silence filled with the outside noises, cars on the road, birds singing, wind blowing through the broken glasses and his own heart drumming in his ears.

"I don't fuck kids."
Toby blushed furiously.
"Stop it! I'm not a kid."
"No? Never fucked anyone, did you? I'm sure..."

Nimble fingers lifting his chin, lips against his ear, hot breath raising goose bumps everywhere on his skin, voice teasing.

"I'm sure you didn't even fucking kiss anyone. Did you?" "Of course I did."

Pathetic lie, the guy laughed, merciless. "Not even a girl, uh?"

The fingers drowned deeper in the thickness of fair strands and dragged him a little closer. "Ok, listen, baby; you did something for me; I'll do something for you. I'm gonna let you go -untouched." "Just a kiss," Toby said, his whole body trembling, dry sobs shaking him; lost, unable to know where that came from, but stubbornly clinging to his need.

"Just a kiss then? After that you'll leave? Kind of kiss I gave the others?" "Yes."

Barely a whisper, a warm exhalation against his mouth. "I'm Chris, by the way."

And Toby had no time to answer; lips brushed against his own, teasing, and he reached out, grabbed the guy's head and pulled him closer, pressed his mouth against his, hard, hoping Chris would take the next step because he didn't have the slightest idea of what he should be doing now.

Warm wetness against his lips, a tongue pushing them apart, and licking; he moaned helplessly, fire sizzling in every little bit of his body as the tongue snaked into his own mouth, invading him; he kissed back tentatively, afraid to do the wrong thing but a low growl echoed inside him and the stranger's tongue pushed deeper, strong hand pushing him down until he was lying on his back, this uncomfortable hardness stretching his jeans again and he tried to reach it, find some relief, his hand snaking down, quickly battered away as the stranger's lips left his mouth for his neck, his earlobe, the thickness of his hair, his still soft cheeks.

"Fuck, you smell like a girl, Toby," the husky voice said. "Please, please, touch me, just..."

He'd heard other boys, at school, older than him, talk about that moment where they would've done anything, anything in the world, to make the throbbing in their pants go away; he wanted that; and the look resting on his knew what he was feeling.

"Gin, uh? And cigarettes? That's your idea of bad boys? I don't even smoke," Chris, said. "But I can drink." He leaned forward, looming over him, brushing his lips against Toby's mouth again. "Did you ever jerk off?"

The answer came in a whisper. "Yes."

"Ok, then listen... kid..." A lazy finger traced the soft curve of his jaw, his neck, the skin along the collar of his shirt. "That's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna jerk you off, OK? After that, out. And if anyone ever knows I'm here..."

The threat hung between there, unspoken, and Toby nodded, solemn.

"Strip," Chris said; and Toby obeyed; lay there naked and flushed with embarrassment under Chris' scrutiny. "Hey maybe you're not such a kid after all," he said, pulling him to his lap. "Come show me."

Chris let his fingers roam over a smooth chest, smooth shoulders, narrow hips, long uncertain legs that parted to allow him to touch further, snake under a round firm ass. Fuck; he wanted that, wanted what he'd never been, a young soft innocent boy, so easy, so needy. When his thumb stroked the hard cock, Toby threw his head back and sighed heavily, shuddering, his eyes half closed, the pink tip of his tongue wetting his lips, breathe fast and shallow.

OK, you could get more than what you bargained for, baby, Chris thought, stroking a bit harder just to see the young body shiver again. This time Toby buried his face in Chris' neck and moaned.

He was dragged bodily to another corner of the dusty room that light didn't reach and stretched out on a lousy mattress, kissed again; threw his arms around that neck to pull Chris closer.

"You don't strip?" he asked and Chris let out a happy laugh. "Curious to see what a real man looks like? Got no older brother? Daddy never shows around nekkid?"

The mere thought of Harrison Beecher naked was alien and frightening; did fathers do that? Toby opened his eyes and caught a flicker of pain in the dark gaze. Shit. Some did, maybe.

"OK, open your eyes and watch; the show's for free."

Toby watched; taller frame, shoulders broader than his, skin a bit darker, probably the guy lived outside a lot, smooth skin hiding strong muscles, body hairier than his, bigger and his dick... He reached out to touch it, mesmerized, and his own cock hardened. God he was going to die.

"See something you like?"

He didn't finish, he felt embarrassed and ashamed suddenly, small and childish; he was about to grab his clothes and run away, but a strong hand pinned him to the bed.

"Never start something you can't finish," Chris said, different voice, softer, gentler. "And you're fine; you'll be fine, you'll have plenty of girls, you're beautiful, trust me, I know about that; it's just that you're so fucking young, you know."

Lips crushed on his mouth again, kissing away the shame, fingers roaming over his skin and Toby began to touch too, eager to feel the warmth, the hard muscles, the soft skin, to feel it shiver under his fingers, hear that growl again and take the warm throbbing cock in his hand, make sure it was real and hard for him, because no one had ever wanted him before.

Touched his lips with his fingers to taste Chris.

He was getting bolder under Chris' skilful touch, bolder and more aroused; he nearly yelled when a warm tongue began licking the length of his cock, teasing, unfinished strokes sending him close, very close to madness and when he felt a finger tease the crease of his ass he pushed back wildly to take it deep inside.

Everything stopped.

"Hey, hey, hey... Don't. That's something else, that's different; you're too young. Ass fucking hurts a lot."

What the hell did Chris talk about? Toby wanted that, he did, he didn't give a damn about being hurt or anything; he moaned again, begging, rubbing his ass against the rough hand and Chris stepped back just a bit, gave him a long thoughtful look.

"Fourteen? You're not lying? It's not a trick?" "No. Wanna see my ID?"

More thinking, lazy fingers stroking his chest, his belly, his cock, snaking under his ass again.

"Yeah well, we're almost there anyway, and I was younger when... OK, let's give it a try. Turn around; on your stomach."

Turning his head, face half hidden behind his hair, Toby watched Chris coat his fingers with... lubricant, probably, wondering which of the girls or boys had bought it. Did it matter? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and gave in to the sensation; to the strange, bothering and delicious sensation of giving up any decision, giving up any will, just being a body, a body opening to another body, loosening around insistent fingers; a purring voice, a mouth kissing a strong shoulder and in his ear, he heard a soothing, taming whisper.

"Hey, baby, d'ya know how hot you look, how beautiful you are, how tight and smooth you are?" Chris was saying "I'm gonna fuck you, do you want that? You'd better tell me, Toby, because when I'm there I don't think there'll be any turning back, it'll be too late, I ain't no fucking saint, OK?"

Toby bit the strong shoulder hard and Chris yelped. "You little bastard!"

Toby moaned all the time it took Chris to make his way inside him, minutes of exquisite agony until he was buried deep in the tight warmth of his shivering body, Chris taking his time; wanting to make it good, make it good for the little uptown bitch who'd brought him food and gin and cigarettes just to get fucked like Angie and the others had, not even knowing what he was getting himself into, but daring. For that he wanted to make it good and slow and he stopped long enough, raining kisses all over the trembling young body.

"Hey, are you OK?"
"Yes, oh god, please yes, do it again!"

Needy sensual little bastard loved it when Chris moved, when Chris fingers stroke his cock, when Chris' teeth grazed against his skin; he would have marks all over that soft hairless skin; those thin baby hair at the base of the soft cock didn't count, were just there to make him crazier.

"OK, hold on, then."

And he moved, slow harmless thrusts and soft strokes until the boy's breath became ragged and Chris felt him push back against him, urging him to move.

Surprise, baby, Chris thought, changing the angle of the next thrust, just once and stopping, letting the scream of delight echo in the room, then vanish, swallowed by a silence so hot he felt sweat running down his body, shining stars under his eyelids.

"What... what did you do?"
"Again? Want that again?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, please, do it again." "Doesn't hurt?"

/And would you stop if he said "yes"? Not sure, uh? You're too far gone now, come on, you don't really listen to the answer.../

He did it again, and again, the boy moaning his name, pleasure building, his cock so hard now he thought he would explode and he let Toby come before him, holding him as he convulsed and shouted, semen spurting all over the dirty mattress; then he came inside the tight ass with a last shallow thrust and that was one fucking great orgasm that left him numb and dizzy; the boy asleep in his arms, curled up against him like a kitten, smooth and warm.

He pulled out, slowly, and breathed -no blood, good job.

Jesus, that had been good, nothing was as good as that; he didn't like kids, never did them, fucked guys and girls older than him, got a kick out of it but here was something entirely different. So much trust. Too much trust, he thought, stroking the thick silky hair. He had to get a grip now, not letting a 14 years old little boy blow his mind.

"Hey," he said, shaking him "wake up, and get the fuck out of here! It's late, I don't want your parents call the police and find you here."

Toby obeyed and got dressed, numb with pleasure and exhaustion, moving slowly, wincing; turned to Chris and said. "Thank you."
"Yeah, well, thanks for the food and the nice fuck. And be careful, OK? You're too fucking young and there are a lot of bastards outta here. Don't trust them." "Yes."
"And don't come back."

Toby nodded; Chris helped him down the ladder and watched him walk away in the sunset, a strange pain curling in his belly. Shit, he had to be more careful. And leave.

The day after Toby came back but Chris was gone. He'd left the empty bottle of gin, and the mattress was still there. Toby sat there for a while, still sore, trying not to cry because he'd hoped... He'd hoped Chris would still be there. He reached out for the bottle of gin, there were some drops left, he swallowed them and fell back, arms spread wide, buried his face in the dirty mattress to find Chris' smell and his own, entangled, desire flooding him; and jerked off there.

20 years later he stood there, clutching the edge of the glass wall in the receiving area, and as he looked at the exhausted man sitting in front of him, the dark blue gaze meeting his, memories flooded him. Chris wouldn't remember, he thought, it had meant nothing to him, he'd been just a little fun; but from the hidden depths of the dark gaze he saw it crawl up, a slow smile lighting Chris' face and he rose, rested his valid hand on Toby's shoulder.

"Hey, uptown boy... What's gone wrong?"

They hugged and Toby let his body melt against Chris' body. He closed his eyes for a second of safety, and didn't see Vern waving to Chris with a mocking smile.

Yeah, Chris thought, the job would be an easy one.

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