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Need by Sean Michael Chapter One Early evening and the sun was already gone. The hardest days of winter were coming, breathing down the back of his neck like a cold john who just wanted to fuck him over. Trick was out early -- there wasn't anyone looking for a little back-alley fun yet, and it would be hours before the guys in their uptown cars started cruising by. On the other hand, he was also the only working stiff for five blocks and he walked it like he owned it. If anyone did show, they were his. Which was damned good, because his belly was getting just a little bit on the empty side and being too hungry made you do stupid things. He walked easily, arms swinging at his sides, pretending he had somewhere to be. Some sort of new band must be playing at the No Name Bar -- there was already a fucking line. Weird. Trick'd been in there before: watered-down whiskey, crabby bartender, no doors on the bathroom stalls -- he fucking hated blowing a guy in an open-doored stall -- and a cramped, cracked dance floor. He let his gait slow as he moved past the line; maybe one of them was looking to warm up before seeing the band. Trick caught the eye of a kid -- fuck, the boy was what? Fourteen? Sixteen if he was a day? Dark purple hair like a goddamned doll, the boy's spare frame was completely encased in skin-tight leather beneath the heavy violet fur coat. He was made up, eyeliner and lipstick, but not girly, not at all. More like an art show -- one of those club kids who spent their lives and their spare change moving from one dance to another. Not a good choice. Then again, that leather was top-dollar. He offered the kid a smile, letting his body speak for itself. Trick knew he looked good, all in black, tight t-shirt showing beneath the open leather jacket. Fuck, it was cold. The interest flared -- and he meant that, it really seemed to change those dark eyes and angled face, but he couldn't tell how. The kid leaned back and spoke to a group of much older players and every single one of them looked over at him as if they shared a brain, looking at him with curiosity. Well, shit, he didn't mind a threesome, but he wasn't gonna take a whole group -- Benny had been in the hospital for a week after a group wanting blowjobs turned out to be the prelude to getting gangbanged. Still, he let his eyes travel up and down the kid's body, letting him know he was interested in that and sauntered on past the line. By the time he reached the end of the line without a bite, he figured the new band must be fucking fabulous for these assholes to stand out in the cold. No boot steps followed him, no one hurried after him. Fuck. Then a touch came to his elbow and a smooth as fucking glass voice sounded. "So, Sweets. What games do you like to play?" He turned with a grin. It was the kid. Fuck, but he looked good. Rich and sexy -- Trick could have himself set for the week if this evening went right. "What have you got in mind?" "Well, I intend to get laid, but I want to play first." One black eyebrow arched, exposing an eyelid decorated in dozens of sparking colors. "Do you know how to play?" "I can do getting laid. I can do playing first, too." The kid looked like he was loaded and bored. This could be profitable and fun. "How very entertaining." Those dark eyes raked over his body, appreciative and hot. "Limits?" Limits? Coming from this kid, he nearly laughed, but managed to keep his grin down. "I don't think you need to worry about that." "No? I think you'd be surprised." The kid held out his leather-gloved hand. "Bast." This time he did grin. He took the kid's hand, shaking it firmly. "Trick." That amused the kid, the thin lips curling up, not releasing his hand. "Trick. Unique. I like it. So, what games do you play, Trick?" "You name it, I'll play it." Bast turned Trick's hand palm-up, licking a hot, slick line along his lifeline, nipping at the heel of his palm before those eyes met his face, playful and... wicked. "Mm... nice. Hide and seek, I think." He found himself grinning madly, charmed in spite of himself by this kid. "So who hides and who seeks?" "I hide and you seek, of course." Slinky and oddly at home in his skin for a kid whose balls could have only been dropped a few years, the kid chuckled, the sound merry. "Do you know where the Clock Tower Club is, Sweets?" "Over on Bishop? Yeah, I know it." Glitzy, high cover, but good drinks and decent dancing. It wasn't a place most johns wanted to take him. A thin hand reached into the fur coat and then pressed a $50 bill into his hand. "Go get yourself a nice steak. The game starts at 11:30 tonight. If you seek, then we'll play more. If you don't, then..." Black, black eyes glittered at him. "Well, then we won't." "That's it? No catches?" This guy was too good to be true. "Catches are boring, and I don't do bored very well." The quick eyes moved again. "Band's starting. Best of luck to you, Sweets. I do hope you're as talented as you taste." He watched the kid head back to the club, slinking like a cat. Bast didn't bother with the line, heading straight for the bouncer and being let in with little more than a laughing smile. The kid never looked back. Trick looked down at the fifty in his hand. Fifty bucks would get him a steak at Carl's House of Steaks, into the club, and he'd still have enough left over for breakfasts for the rest of the week. Fifty for doing nothing more than talking. He could turn around and never see the kid again, but the kid was obviously loaded and just wanted to have fun. And he could do fun, especially if it came with a healthy paycheck. Pocketing the fifty he headed for Carl's, strutting happily, not minding the cold. Not minding it one little bit tonight. |
