by Lolly Walter
Beside him, Trig grunted. “You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, do you? God, that baby is giving me a headache.”
“He’s doped up on those six turkey legs he ate,” Joe said. The rest of the table laughed.
Devin glared at them in mock contempt. “Shut up, fuckers. It’s not my fault I don’t know how to play. You guys can’t teach worth shit. And you all ate ‘til you were about to puke, too.”
Most of the guys laughed again. The crying stopped, and someone shouted, “Praise Jesus!”
Chuckling, Joe threw his money into the center of the table. The pockmarked metal surface was littered with coins and bills, relics of the old world.
Devin knew modern money was easier to deal with, or it would be if they had anywhere to spend it. A swipe of the inner wrist against a probe and money was deleted from or added to your personal account, all the info stored in the tiny chip underneath the skin.
Old money was more fun, though. Devin liked the feel of it, the way it existed, concrete and obvious. Trig had told him they’d found the stash they used for poker in a crumbling farmhouse far east of the Flats. Someone had shoved the green bills and shiny coins under a mattress. These days, the mattress was more valuable than the money, but whoever had found it had brought it back to the Flats because it would be fun for poker.
“I think Devin and I better call it a night,” Joe said. He rose from the table and tapped Devin’s shoulder. Devin tossed his money into the middle of the table and displayed his cards for the other guys to see, then stood and pushed in his chair.
“Aw, Devin, you really did have a terrible hand,” Flix said without a trace of sympathy. He’d been mad at Devin since the meeting at headquarters. He switched his gaze, now all innocent and adoring, to Joe. “Do you have to go?”
“We have an early morning tomorrow, Flix. You guys should think about turning in soon, too.”
Devin threw an arm around Joe’s shoulders as they headed for their room, serenaded by a chorus of joking jeers about where Joe could stick his bossy, motherly tendencies. Devin glanced back and caught Flix’s scrunched nose and pouty lip. He stuck out his tongue at the twin.
“Leave the poor kid alone.” Joe fit his key in the lock and opened their door. “People are going to get the wrong idea if you keep egging him on.”
“I wouldn’t egg him on if he didn’t act like he wanted to crawl up your ass and lay eggs and I was some sort of baby-eating snake.”
“That’s a disturbing image, big guy.”
Devin unlaced his shoes and set them by his crate. He slipped his t-shirt over his head. “It’s true, though. He acts like I’m the reason you’re turning him down, when the truth is he wouldn’t stand a chance with you no matter what. He’s twelve, for fuck’s sake.”
“He’s fifteen,” Joe said over his shoulder, standing at the window taking a piss. “But point taken. He’s way too young, and I’m not interested.”
“Exactly.” Devin traded places with Joe and did his business while Joe prepped their toothbrushes. Clean teeth was one of the best parts about living there. “Jesus, it’s freezing tonight. I don’t get why he thinks I’m the problem.”
“Uh, let’s see.” Joe nudged Devin until he made room at the window, then handed him his toothbrush. His voice was distorted with the effort of brushing. “You’re tall, you’re handsome, you’re my partner, and we sleep together. I can’t imagine why he’s jealous. Quit hogging the window.”
Devin spit and rinsed his toothbrush with a tiny bit of water from the bottle they kept in the room. Ah, minty clean. So nice. “You think I’m handsome?” He fell back on the mattress, huddled tight under their regular blanket and an extra that they’d been able to check out from req since the temperature was supposed to drop below freezing tonight, and waited for a reply.
The window slammed shut, and Joe shivered. He peeled off his jeans and folded them, laying them neatly in his crate. “This was a good time for a day off. I’d hate to have had to run today.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Devin repeated and patted the bed next to him.
“I think you’re annoying.” Joe crawled into the bed.
Devin pulled the covers over him and scooted an inch or two away from the wall so he could soak up Joe’s body heat. “You said I was handsome.”
“Come off it, papi. You know you’re good-looking. You wouldn’t be here on the A+ team with me if you weren’t easy on the eyes. Well, and white.”
Of course Devin knew he was attractive. Boggs had said it, talked out loud while he’d run down a list of Devin’s positive attributes for his personnel file. Even that gross scavenger, Tom, who’d “helped” him get to the Flights of Fantasy headquarters, had called him “too pretty to let loose.” But it meant something more coming from Joe.
Devin snuggled a little closer and allowed himself a smug smile. The lights flickered the curfew signal. With practiced smoothness, Joe’s arm snaked under Devin’s neck. Devin rolled onto his side and laid his head on Joe’s chest.
They’d been waking up holding each other since the very beginning, but on the night of their first run they’d started out this way, too. They hadn’t talked about it, had just folded into each other’s arms like it was the way they’d always been. Nothing had come of it. The embrace was warm and comforting. Devin wasn’t sure he wanted it to be more. He needed Joe, liked him, wanted his attention, but the physical part? The sex? That scared the crap out of him.
He’d made such a big deal about not being gay. Tanner had said boys fucking boys was wrong. Even after Tanner’s death, Devin had wanted to please him. Sex with Ebony had been fine, good even, and he’d thought he’d be happy having sex with girls, until that moment on the Capitol lawn when Joe had pressed their hips together. Then everything Devin had done with Ebony wasn’t enough.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Joe’s voice, softer even than usual, cut through Devin’s thoughts.
“Why would I be?”
“You’re eighteen now. Boggs is going to start giving us sexual clients.”
“Oh, shit.” Devin angled his body so he sprawled almost on top of Joe. Sex work. He wasn’t ready. Fuck.
“Try to relax.” A warm hand traveled up and down both sides of Devin’s spine, kneading and rubbing. “Worrying won’t help.”
“What’ll we have to do?” Devin’s voice sounded scared and small, a little kid forced into a man’s role.
“It varies. For most of the clients, it’s not about sex. It’s about the power trip, the rush they get from chasing us down, conquering us. So, you know, don’t assume our clients are all out to have anal sex.” Joe squirmed a bit under Devin and pressed his cold toes to Devin’s calf. “But we still always, always, always have to prepare ourselves for that possibility, right? Otherwise you could get really hurt.”
Devin nodded and did some squirming of his own. The day before their first run, Joe had sat him down and explained how to prepare himself for that kind of sex, showed him where the supplies were kept. They hadn’t been able to look at each other for the rest of the day. If that happened, if he had to do that, he might not ever be able to look at Joe again.
“So that could come up, and vaginal sex occurs a lot for the girls, and some of the guys specialize in the more violent stuff, but for us it’ll be lots of hand jobs and oral sex and basically just being demeaned. Once, a guy peed on me before he jerked off in my hair. That one was the worst, I think.”
A small shiver fluttered down Joe’s body, and Devin tucked his head tighter against Joe’s heartbeat. He was not getting peed on. No way. Deal breaker.
“Um, but the oral sex,” Joe continued, interrupting Devin’s internal gross-fest, “that happens a lot. You paid attention to what Ebony did to you? I mean, it’s different giving instead of receiving, but…”
“I was kind of busy enjoying myself.”
Joe snorted. “I heard. The clients don’t care about technique, so you’ll be all right. Use your lips
and tongue. No teeth.”
Oh, Jesus. Revulsion warred with arousal in Devin’s head and his boxers. On the one hand, giving oral sex to clients was terrifying and stomach-churning. On the other, pressed against Joe’s lean body, imagining Joe doing the giving — his full lips wrapped around Devin, his liquid chocolate eyes with the long, curly eyelashes staring into Devin’s eyes…
“Lift your head.” Joe nudged at Devin with his shoulder. “We’ll practice.”
Devin opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Joe rolled his eyes and held up two bony fingers. “With our fingers. Not for real. I’m not going to force myself on you.”
Disappointment tinged Devin’s relief. He should probably mention that he wasn’t offended, but his brain-to-mouth connection was still shorted out. He held up two fingers instead.
“So, like I said, lips and tongue, no teeth. Pretend the palm side of your fingers is the underside of a dick.” Joe grabbed Devin’s hand and pulled it toward his own mouth. He kissed the base of Devin’s fingers, right near his palm. “Kissing’s good, see?” Slowly, Joe placed slightly open-mouthed kisses up the length of Devin’s fingers, letting his lips graze the skin as he went. The delicate movement almost tickled, but Devin couldn’t pin down the right word to describe the feeling, other than “good.” When Joe reached Devin’s fingertips, he tilted his head and nuzzled Devin’s fingers. His eyes met Devin’s, and he held up his hand. “You try.”
Devin sat up, sure he’d never be able to kiss any part of Joe when they were lying down. His kisses were slow and tentative, and they had to lack all the gentle eroticism of Joe’s lips skimming Devin’s skin.
“Good, good,” Joe said when Devin had made one pass. His hand slipped from Devin’s grasp. He sat up, too, and brought Devin’s hand to his mouth. “Now try this.”
He licked a heavy stripe up Devin’s fingers. Devin shuddered. Cool air slipped over the wet trail left by Joe’s tongue. The combination tightened Devin’s nipples. Without asking, he tugged Joe’s hand to his mouth.
Joe tasted like soap and toothpaste, but the texture of his skin was rough and too intense. Devin scrunched his nose. Not something he’d happily do.
“Make your tongue wetter. It won’t feel as weird.” Joe licked Devin’s fingers again, and this time, Devin swallowed so he wouldn’t moan.
His fingers had barely been freed when Devin placed one hand on Joe’s wrist and the other on his fist and slurped, wet and fast, over Joe’s fingers. The taste and texture improved with the addition of more spit. Devin wanted to do it again.
“That’s it,” Joe said, his voice heavy, saturated with something that hadn’t been there when they’d started. He cleared his throat. “Now, sucking.”
“Fuck,” Devin breathed.
“Well, hopefully, just suck.” Joe chuckled, but his eyes stayed fixed on Devin’s. He licked his lips. “Wetter is always better.” Wide and obvious, he opened his mouth. His tongue darted out and fiddled with the tips of Devin’s fingers. He licked over Devin’s nails then pushed and slid his tongue between the fingers, all the way to the base.
Devin inhaled sharply and tossed his head back. How could something so simple light him on fire? He pulled his knee to his chest to hide his erection.
“Still with me?” Joe patted Devin’s knee.
Devin nodded, but he kept his head tilted back.
“Wrap your lips around it to make a seal, then suck.”
Wet, inviting warmth covered the tips of Devin’s fingers. For a moment, they were sucked softly. Devin brought his head upright again, and as soon as he focused on his fingers in Joe’s mouth, Joe let them go.
“Next, suck and lick. Bob your head and suck more on the upstroke.”
Back in Joe’s mouth. Devin needed to get a grip, needed this not to affect him, but damn. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Joe’s lips around him, the way his fingers slid deeper into Joe’s mouth, the gentle suction that progressed to deep, rough pressure, all while Joe’s tongue snaked up the seam of his fingers. Joe didn’t pull off, didn’t back down. Instead, he sucked Devin deep again, all the way to his palm, and held him there.
Joe’s eyes were closed, and Devin was so tempted to withdraw his fingers and push in with the real thing. He wanted. He needed. He was so scared.
The lights flickered again and went out. Devin jerked his hand away. He reached in the darkness and found Joe’s shoulder. He trailed his hand down Joe’s arm until he came to his hand. Quickly, and with no finesse, he dragged Joe’s fingers into his mouth, sucked and licked and bobbed, and shoved them out with his tongue.
“There,” he said. “Bedtime.” He rolled away from Joe and lay down on his side, facing the wall.
Joe must have misinterpreted the reaction, because he turned onto his side and hugged Devin. “It’ll be all right. I’ll be there if it comes to that.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “It can be fun.”
Devin groaned, and his dick throbbed.
“It’s kind of a way to take some power back from these guys. For the five minutes or however long it takes, you’ve got this rich creep at your complete mercy. He doesn’t think so. He’s thinking he’s in charge, but his legs are shaking and he’s shouting or making noises, and you’re the cause. You can make him wait. You can toy with him. You could bite his penis off if you were so inclined.”
“Fuck, Joe. Shut up about it already.”
Joe’s breath blew against Devin’s ear in a forceful sigh. He flopped onto his back. “I’m sorry.”
“Can we go to sleep?” Devin curled his legs tighter and bowed his back into Joe’s side. He hoped the touch would say some of the things he couldn’t.
“Of course.”
Devin lay with his eyes open and listened as Joe’s breathing evened and he began to snore. When the snoring started, Devin turned over and laid his head over Joe’s heart. That he needed Joe’s heartbeat to fall asleep was one more item he had stuffed into his “do not examine” pile. The well that held it all was reaching maximum capacity.
***
Four days later, no one had tried to touch Devin’s mouth or his ass. He had held a man’s penis twice now, once with a gun aimed at him, but he’d closed his eyes and rubbed and sung the alphabet over and over in his head until the ordeal ended.
Joe did most of the work when it came to the sex, and the men he did it to were so captivated by the experience that none of them said anything about Devin turning his head and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t see. Once, a man had wanted Devin to participate. All Devin had ended up doing was laying his hand on Joe’s bobbing head. That was disturbing enough.
Each day, he and Joe were chummy and artificially free-spirited as they walked to their jobs. They were too loud and too silly and too affectionate, and the few people on the street stopped and stared, though no one approached them. After the job, they didn’t speak beyond what was necessary, and they didn’t make eye contact. Back at the Flats, they pretended like the jobs hadn’t happened. Dirty was an uncomfortable way to live.
Devin dragged his feet up the flights of stairs that would lead to the convention center roof. The client, wheezing behind him, dug a dull-edged knife into his back. The men weren’t allowed to have weapons that could cause harm to Flights of Fantasy employees, so the knives were dull, the guns empty of bullets, but the clients sure liked to pretend.
“Wake up, lazy, cowardly ass,” the man behind Devin said.
Taking bigger, more sprightly steps, Devin rolled his eyes. Baby Nina was so cute, but her crying was keeping them all up at night. With the baby born, Ebony had been booted from the private room, and she spent her nights walking the floor, trying to get Nina to sleep. Zeke, though willing to help, proved hard to rouse once he’d fallen asleep, so some nights, sleep was disrupted not only by the baby’s cries, but by sweet Ebony yelling obscenities about Zeke and his laziness. The two of them weren’t very popular right now.
Devin reached the landing of the co
nvention center roof, and he squinted when Joe opened the door into the bright sunlight. The gusty wind was magnified this high up. Devin was grateful their client was slow and ponderous enough that he and Joe had been allowed to run in their jeans. Otherwise, they’d be chilly.
“Now, you poor darling, let’s get you out of the wind.” The client’s words were directed at Joe. He pointed his knife toward a closet of some sort. “Sit over there and try to calm your shivers.”
This guy had wanted to play the hero saving poor, defenseless Joe from being raped by Devin. Sicko. Beforehand, Joe had talked Devin through how to time it so the guy would get restless and interrupt them before he would have to do anything more than rip Joe’s shirt hem out of his jeans. The plan had worked, and the man had chased after Devin, with Joe trailing behind shouting encouragement in a voice so frail and foreign from his real one that Devin’d had to struggle not to laugh.
Joe sat, and the knife returned to Devin’s back. Funny, they’d acted out a similar scene a couple days ago, with the roles reversed. Joe had played the thug, though he’d been a robber instead of a rapist, and Devin had been the one needing rescue. As punishment for being a robber, Joe had ended up with a withered old dick in his mouth.
Just as Devin had the thought, today’s client tugged on his tied hands, and Devin dropped to his knees. Fuck. He couldn’t do this. His knees hurt where they dug into the graveled roof. His heart pounded. The tie binding his wrists dug into his skin as he struggled to free his hands. Oh, shit.
“What’s the matter, coward?” the man said. “Afraid, now that you’ll have to do what you were going to force on that poor, angelic boy?” He unzipped his pants.
A cock, red and half-hard, dangled in Devin’s face. He clamped his mouth closed and whipped his head side to side, his eyes screwed shut. He was supposed to protest; it was part of the act. But then he was supposed to relent, open up, do it. He couldn’t.
“Sir?” Joe’s stupid fake-frail voice made Devin stop struggling and open his eyes. Joe had risen from his perch on the ground and rejoined the client. He was biting his lip and twisting on his toes like he was shy.
