The Boy Who Came In From the Cold E-Book

B.G. Thomas

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 400

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Todd Burton has had enough of small-town Buckman. His abusive stepfather calls him a fag; his friend Austin makes him realize he may be gay, but Todd doesn't want to admit his stepfather is right; and he dreams of being a chef. Three good reasons to flee his hometown and pursue greener pastures. But when Todd reaches the big city, his luck runs dry. Soon he can't pay his rent and gets evicted. In the middle of a snowstorm. Gabe Richards is a wealthy businessman with enough wounds of his own to make him afraid of ever being intimate again. But when he sees Todd outside his building, freezing to death, he takes pity on him and takes him in from the cold. To their mutual surprise, Todd and Gabe find themselves drawn to each other. "One night" turns into a week. Maybe letting a man in from the cold can melt the ice around Gabe's heart—and maybe getting evicted will turn Todd's luck around.

Leseprobe

By B.G. THOMAS

NOVELS

All Alone in a Sea of Romance

The Boy Who Came In From the Cold

NOVELLAS

All Snug

Bianca’s Plan

Christmas Cole

Christmas Wish

Desert Crossing

How Could Love Be Wrong?

It Had to Be You

Soul of the Mummy

Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Table of Contents

Bibliography

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

pithetEpilogue

AUTHOR’S NOTE

About the Author

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Notes

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SWSte 2, PMB# 279Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Boy Who Came In From the Cold

Copyright © 2013 by B.G. Thomas

Cover Art by Aaron Anderson

[email protected]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62380-713-9

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-714-6

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

May 2013

Bloom Backwards ©2010 by Michael Lee.

Used with permission of the author. All rights reserved.

Photograph of Gynaephora groenlandica ©2010 by Gary Anweiler.

Used with permission of the photographer. All rights reserved.

This is for Jonah Markowitz,

and Brad Rowe and Trevor Wright, of course.

Thank you for giving us Shelter.

May this be some small way to express my gratitude.

Special thanks to my wondrous editors—Rowan Speedwell, Kat Weller, Sal Davis, P.D. Singer (who opened my eyes a time or two) and C.L. Miles—Thanks ladies, you make me look good!

And of course Andi Byassee! Thank you, thank you, thank you. It is a wonderful thing to find an editor who really “gets” you.

We blink over 22,000 times a day,

and I bet you thought you only woke up once.

~ Michael Lee

Becoming hurts.

~ Kat Howard

Chapter 1

ITWAScold outside. It was really cold. Freezing cold.

Todd Burton, freezing himself, watched as a man with a big industrial broom swept what was an obviously already shoveled sidewalk. The snow was falling harder than ever and was piled everywhere.

Jeez, it’s snowing like a son of a bitch out there. Todd glanced nervously over his shoulder into the lobby of the apartment building. No one seemed to be watching him.

What the hell am I going to do?

If this had happened to him a week ago, it wouldn’t have been so bad. Not good. But not nearly as bad.

Luckily, one of the building’s residents had let him in out of the cold in the first place. A big guy–good-looking, tall and wide—wearing a long woolen (and obviously warm) coat.

Todd would have done almost anything for that coat. His pale-tan lightweight fall jacket barely kept out the chill of late autumn. It didn’t stand a chance against the snowstorm outside the warm lobby.

“You’ll wear it and like it,” his mother had screamed. “We ain’t made of money!”

If he hadn’t chosen to wear a sweater to the New Year’s Eve party last night, he didn’t know what he would have done. It was the only thing keeping him from being chilled to the bone. His gloves were a joke—the simple one-size-fits-all type bought at Family Dollar, with a hat purchased at the same place—and all but useless. He might as well have been naked.

So it had been a stroke of luck when the big man had asked Todd why he was standing under the awning of the Oscar Wilde apartment building.

“Waiting for a ride,” Todd replied, even though it was a lie. He was no more waiting for a ride than he was waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. But it got him out of the frigging cold. Todd flexed his wet toes in the confines of sneakers worn to death. His feet were still frozen and aching after nearly an hour. Lord yes, his toes hurt.

This sucks, he thought. This sucks zombie dick.

“What am I going to do?” he muttered as the snow, abundant as the feathers from a high-school-girls’ pillow fight, fell thickly to the ground. Icicles, looking like the teeth of some primeval creature, hung just outside the large plate-glass windows. I’d hate to be the poor guy that one of those fell on.

“Still waiting?” came a voice from behind Todd, and, startled, he jumped and let out a cry. He spun around and found himself gazing up into the face of the man who’d let him into the building. No longer in his winter wear (where was that coat?), the man had changed into jogging shorts and a T-shirt that stretched over a massive chest and proclaimed that he was 2CUTE2BSTR8.

It took Todd a moment to figure it out, but when he did, his mouth dropped open. Too cute to be straight. The guy was queer. It was a little more than Todd’s small-town naïveté could take in. This guy? A fag? It just didn’t seem possible. The guy was a powerhouse. A total class-A stud. This was no swishy, limp-wristed, pink-wearing gay boy.

The man eyed him suspiciously, and Todd realized he needed to say something. “Uh-uh, yeah, I don’t know what’s taking… uh, George… so long.” Piss. Did I actually say “uh George”?

The man nodded, went to retrieve his mail, and on his way back, stopped again and looked Todd up and down. But this time his gaze lingered just a bit. Todd felt his stomach give a weird sort of flip-flop.

“Look,” said the man. “Watch yourself, okay? The building manager has been known to have a shit fit when hustlers come in the building for, well, whatever they come in here for. Just don’t get caught.”

Todd stiffened. Hustlers? Did this guy think he was looking to sell himself? Before he could think of how to respond, the man crossed the lobby and disappeared into the elevator.

He thinks I’m for sale! Todd shook his head. Cursed under his breath. Do I look like a hustler? he wondered and thought about the boys who sold themselves in the park. Maybe I do, he realized, horrified. He touched the scruff on his face—he hadn’t shaved today and his facial hair grew like wildfire—and looked down at his dirty jeans and worn-out sneakers. Would someone want to buy something so… dirty? He tried in vain to catch his reflection in the big lobby windows. Not enough light in here, he thought.

He glanced around the lobby, seeing what at one time must have been elegance, but was now just a few levels above run-down. Brass elevator doors, once shiny and beautiful, now tarnished with age; hardwood and marble floors now scuffed; banks of fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling; what looked like the faded remains of a huge mural—all probably gorgeous when the building was made. All just sad echoes of a different age.

Todd thought of the man who had let him into the building. From the look of his business attire Todd was surprised he didn’t live in a much fancier place. That coat hadn’t come from Walmart. Couldn’t the guy afford an apartment in a better building?

There was the pinging from the elevator as the doors opened, and speak of the devil, it was the same man. He was carrying what looked like a plate and a mug and was heading in Todd’s direction. When he got closer, the wondrous aroma of coffee hit Todd and he saw the man had a sandwich as well. To Todd’s surprise, the man handed them both over. His mouth fell open. The day had been one of the shittiest ever in a year of total shit. And here, out of the blue, a complete stranger was showing some small-town kindness?

Todd only hesitated for a second, all but snatched the food and coffee from the man, sat down on the windowsill, and practically gulped everything down. Both were a relief beyond words. Todd almost swooned. He hadn’t had so much as a bite all day, and with barely twenty bucks in his pocket and no idea when he’d get more, he’d been afraid to buy so much as a dollar grease burger from Mickey D’s. He ate the food so fast he barely tasted it. Oh! And the coffee filled him with a warmth that finally let him shake off the cold that had plagued him all day. He actually gave a shiver as it lifted.

“I’m Gabe,” said the man.

With only a few bites left, Todd nodded but didn’t offer his own name.

“What are you doing out in this weather, anyway?” Gabe asked.

Todd stopped chewing. Boy, was that a question and a half. He swallowed hard. How did he explain it? It was awful. He was ashamed. How did he tell a complete stranger that he felt like a total failure?

Todd gave the guy a quick look, then a longer one. The guy was huge. A good head taller, at least, than Todd’s five foot nine and downright massive: really built. He obviously worked out. A lot. Like the guys in the muscle mags that Todd collected.

(“Jesus, Todd, how many of these things do you fucking have?”)

Not like the men who were all gnarly and knotted like mutants or something, but the nicely built, Hollywood TV-star kind.

(“It don’t make no sense a boy your age having so many of these. You a faggot or something?”

“I just use them for exercise tips.”)

Gabe’s pecs looked as big as dinner plates, and Todd could see the man’s abs even through his shirt. His waist seemed almost as small, his hips as narrow, as Todd’s, impossible as that should be.

And good-looking. Really good-looking. The man had short light-brown hair (dark-blond? It was hard to tell) and light blue eyes (the color of a country summer sky) and a face like a movie star. This guy could have any woman he wanted. Why had he chosen to go gay?

“Okay, so if you don’t want me to know—”

Know? Know what? Did I miss something?

“—can I at least get that name?”

“Uh, Todd.”

“Todd what?”

What the hell? “Why do you need to know?”

Gabe shook his head. “Okay, Mr. Uh Todd Whydoyouneedtoknow, I’ll leave you alone.”

The man started to turn away, and suddenly, Todd didn’t want Gabe to leave. “I was kicked out of my apartment,” he cried out in a rush.

Gabe stopped, turned back.

“Surprised the shit out of me too. Got home this morning from a New Year’s party, and the lock had been changed.”

Gabe’s eyes widened just a bit. “Damn.”

“What kind of asshole kicks someone out on the streets in this kind of weather?” Todd asked. He began to wring his hands. “I thought there were laws that protected you from that.”

“I believe there are, but that’s not going to do you any good right now,” Gabe said.

“No shit.” Todd sighed. He looked at the man again. God what he’d do to look like that. He’d worked out all through high school and bought weights for home, but no, he just couldn’t do it. There was a level of baby fat that didn’t want to go away for anything.

(“Ha! Look at you, working out! You trying to get a body like the guys in your magazines? Give it up. Ain’t gonna happen. You Burtons have the bodies you have. Skinny as shit.”)

At least he didn’t look like his stepfather, with his big beer gut and his flat ass. Todd was in decent enough shape, but he’d come to realize he’d never have a body like Gabe’s. “You really queer?” he asked without thinking. His lack of a filter from thought to spoken word had bounced him against the walls of authority all his life.

“You don’t think before you speak,” his freshman teacher—Mr. Grombeck—would say over and over.

“The word is ‘gay’,” Gabe said, “and yes I am.”

(“I remember when gay was a good word. Homos have ruined that word!”)

“It still is,” Gabe returned.

Shit, I said that out loud? He heard me. He must have six million dollar ears.

“Gay is a joyful and happy word.”

Gay and proud of it, Todd thought with wonder. “Sorry,” he said and meant it. After all, the guy had helped him when no one else would. So what if he chose to fuck a dude instead of a girl? It was his choice.

“Any idea what you’re going to do in the meantime?” Gabe crossed his arms over that expanse of chest. “You got a place to stay? A friend?”

Todd felt the last of his strength leave him and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “No.” The people he’d met since moving to Kansas City had been total jerks. Or drug addicts. Thieves. Users. Girls as well as dudes just trying to get him into bed. All he’d wanted to do was get out of his small town and into a big city. Fat lot of good that had done him.

“What about the friends you partied with last night?”

Todd jerked. A few people he’d met at Gilham Park a month or so before—a far different park than the one that catered to male prostitution—had asked him if he wanted to party, and, desperate to get away from his tiny studio apartment, he’d agreed. He’d no sooner gotten to the party than a couple of boys younger than him tried to give him some crack. No way was he going there. He might be small town, but he knew that stuff was no joke. A couple of beers later and he was buzzed and sitting alone in a corner watching the freakiest things. Two, then three, guys making out on a couch. Another guy with his head under the skirt of a girl who couldn’t have been legal. Lots of drugs, but mostly marijuana. He’d even taken a few hits of something that made the pot he’d occasionally smoked with his friend Austin seem like grass clippings.

Then, right after midnight, two girls who had been watching him, giggling (when they weren’t kissing each other), had pulled him into a dark bedroom, yanked off their tops, and tried to get him to have sex. One girl with no bra and huge breasts had grabbed his hand, pressed it against one tit, and squeezed his fingers over it. He couldn’t yank away fast enough, and he didn’t know why. “No,” he said, then got the hell out.

“No,” he said again to Gabe. “No way.” The people at that party hadn’t been his friends.

There was a pause, and Gabe looked him up and down once more. Not rudely, but it made Todd feel weird anyway. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling. The guy wasn’t drooling or any fucking thing like that, but still….

(“Perverts. They like little boys. They kidnap them and they cut them….”)

Gabe was a guy. And despite parades and gay marriage, the end of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and gay and lesbian support groups in high schools, men with men wasn’t—

(“… normal! They ain’t normal!”)

—anything he was used to. The guy seemed nice. Had given him food. Gabe had shown him more kindness than anyone else in this fucking city, so—

“Look,” said the big man, “I’ve never paid for it, but you’re awfully cute, and it would give you a place to stay for the night, and….”

Todd started. “What?”

“I mean it’s not going to be like Pretty Woman, where I have to pay extra to get you to stay the night, right? I mean, I’m getting you out of the snow and—”

“I’m not a whore,” Todd snarled. “And I’m not a fucking queer.”

Gabe’s face froze, his warmth vanishing as if it had never been there. He reached out and took Todd’s now empty mug. “Good luck,” he said, voice icy. “And like I said, don’t let the building manager catch you, or you’ll be back out on the street, blizzard or not.” Gabe turned and strode back to the elevator without looking back.

Great. Shit. Why did I do that? “I gotta stop losing it,” he said aloud. I could have just told him I’m not gay, not a hustler. The guy—Gabe—was nice. He would have taken no for an answer. Todd turned back to look out the lobby windows. Gasped. The snow, which had been coming down hard, was now a writhing wall of white.

“Look at that,” said someone to his right. Todd turned and saw a couple of people had wandered into the lobby from who knew where? Upstairs? An office?

“My mom just called and told me the governor declared a state of emergency,” said another onlooker. “I sure would hate to be out in that.”

No shit, Todd thought. He looked back to the elevator. But Gabe was gone, of course. Why did I act like an asshole? Maybe all he wanted to do was suck my dick. Not like I haven’t ever had my dick sucked. Just because Joan didn’t like giving them…. And of course there was the one that….

“Just look at that!”

Todd jumped at the voice and looked outside again. What had been bad had become downright scary. It was like some kind of special effect from a horror movie.

Wouldn’t it have been worth a blowjob to get out of that?

“It’s easy money,” a hustler from the park across from his apartment building—his ex-apartment building—had told him a couple of weeks ago. A day that had been pleasant, a few orange and red leaves still hanging bravely from the trees; a day when his lousy coat had kept him warm enough. “Easy money. I make fifty a blowjob. Getting a blowjob! I can shoot two, three times a day for sure. The third time not as much, but if he’s an ugly old troll, he’s lucky to get what he gets.”

The guy—a redhead named Doug—and a friend had been smoking a joint and regaling Todd with the gainful job opportunities in the world of male prostitution. “I just lay back,” he continued, “close my eyes, and pretend it’s Katy Perry givin’ me head. Who doesn’t like to get his dick sucked? And get paid for it.”

Somehow, Todd doubted Doug’s sincerity. If it was all that great, why wasn’t everybody champing at the bit to be a prostitute?

“Don’t let him fool you, girlfriend,” said Chaz, the second young man, a kid of mixed ethnicity, maybe twenty years old. “Doug here ain’t thinkin’ ’bout Katy. Channing Tatum is his thing. And I tells you this…. We all suck cock at least now and again.” He shifted his hip, rested a hand upon it, and then snapped his fingers with the other. “Especially in these hard economic times.”

Todd had shaken his head doubtfully. “I don’t think….”

“You could suck dick? After that first time or two it isn’t a big deal,” Doug said, thereby admitting he did indeed give at least the occasional blowjob. “And if you can swallow, you make more money.”

“Why you guys telling me this?” Todd had asked, as if he didn’t already know.

Chaz took a hit of his joint, apparently not worried in the least about who might see, and passed it to Doug. “Cuz you ain’t got no job, and you’re trying like a motherfucker to get one. Am I right?”

Todd was startled but didn’t answer.

“No need to deny it,” Doug replied casually and hit the joint. “You leave your place all different times, and you’re always wearing a tie.” He reached out and flicked the thrift-store paisley one Todd had loosened but not removed. He held out his joint.

Todd shook his head.

“And because you don’t want the grass. You’re studying for a test.”

“A test?”

“A piss test,” Chaz explained.

How does the guy know so much?

“We know all kinds of stuff about you,” Doug said and raised an orange brow.

“Like you is from a small town, ain’t ya?” Chaz asked.

Jesus. Todd gaped at the young man in disbelief. “How do you know all this?”

The boy-men laughed.

“Because we’re all small-town,” Doug cried.

“We knows our own,” Chaz continued and snapped his fingers again. “We all comes to the city to get away from a big bad daddy who can’t keeps his hands to his self—”

“Or to make big money or get famous,” Doug added.

“Or what-the-fuck-ever, and instead we winds up sellin’ ourselves. Story as old as fuckin’ time, baby.”

Todd hadn’t taken them up on their offer. Hadn’t even considered it. I’ll never get that low, he’d told himself.

But now? He watched the swirling maelstrom.

Gabe would have been better than some old toothless “troll” picking him up off the street. At least Gabe was hot. Maybe he could have laid back and let the man give him some head. It couldn’t be any worse than those his so-called girlfriend had given him back home.

He shuddered at the thought.

Or any more disastrous than….

And Gabe would have given him a place to stay for the night.

What if Gabe wanted the blowjob? Could you do it?

He shrugged.

Memories of a basement…

Hell. Maybe. Didn’t every dude wonder what it would be like once or twice? He remembered a time in the locker room at school. He was sitting down untying his shoes when he realized the penis of one of his classmates was less than a foot from his face. He could actually smell it, it was so close, the heat from the showers bringing out the boy’s natural male musk. Todd had toed off one shoe and as he slowly worked on the other, he was able to look up through his bangs without his buddy knowing he was checking out his cock. Todd found he wasn’t repulsed by it at all, as Joan seemed to be by his own. Why, it was rather handsome. Longer than his, it draped over two largish testicles, one hanging slightly lower than the other in a fleshy, silky-looking sack. The scrotum was hairless, and he wondered if his buddy shaved his balls (and where that thought had come from?).

“Hey Burton! Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Luckily his big mouth served him well that day. “I don’t know what the hell it is,” he’d replied rather loudly. “But whatever it is, it’s about the ugliest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The roar of laughter was probably the only thing that had kept him from being called a faggot for the rest of the school year.

But a few days later, while Joan was making another sloppy and unexciting attempt at giving him a blowjob, gagging like he was twelve inches long or something, he’d wondered what it was like to suck a cock. What if he had been alone with that boy in the locker room and he had just leaned forward and taken it into his mouth? Or his friend Austin. The cute boy’s face filled his mind. The image of him from when they’d gone skinny-dipping over the summer. Evenings at his friend’s house. What would Austin’s cock feel like in his mouth? Taste like? Strange, those were the thoughts that allowed him to finally cum, to his girlfriend’s noisy complaints—“Toddy! You said you’d warn me.”—in a voice like rubbing two balloons together.

So if Gabe had taken him to his apartment, gotten him out of the snow, maybe he could try it? As clean-cut as the man was, Todd was sure he would be clean down there.

Strange also that Todd felt his own cock shift about then. Just in time for a bellow like an elephant that startled him so badly he gave a shout.

“Hey you! Who the hell are you?”

Todd turned to see a huge man descending on him like doom. “Goddamn drifters and hustlers always coming in my building. Get the hell out of here!”

What was he supposed to do now?

Chapter 2

THEelevator doors had barely closed behind him when Gabriel Richards was hit with guilt. Shitfire. Why did I snap at that kid? What must it be like to be on the streets in weather like this? He—Todd—had to be cold and frightened.

But dammit, the kid had used the words queer and faggot, and Gabe hated those words. They were ugly. He knew activists said using them took away their power, but he didn’t agree at all. People used those words to hurt. Hadn’t the kid meant it that way?

Gabe let himself into his apartment on the top floor of the Oscar Wilde and threw his mail on the small black lacquered table just inside the door. He paid extra for the larger apartment so he had a bedroom, a study, and a workout room. Having all three was important to him. A bedroom for only what bedrooms were for—sleeping and making love (which he hadn’t done in what felt like a thousand years, surely the reason he’d offered to pay the kid—Todd!—for sex.). The study/office, where he could take work home without cluttering up the whole apartment. And his workout room, which was meant purely for improving his body. Each had its place.

Working out had been his plan too—what he was going to do right after grabbing the mail. That’s when he’d seen Todd was still standing there, a good hour after he’d let the young man in. The look on his face, pure desperation, told him Todd must be in trouble. But what could he do?

Well, get the kid something to eat, surely.

Very nice-looking kid as a matter of fact. Creamy pale skin, dark hair with two masculine slashes for brows. He was scruffy, but when had he had a chance to shave last? Besides, it suited him. He looked a little stocky, but it was hard to tell. He had a nice mouth too. Wide. Full. Kissable. And then there were those eyes. Deep dark brown. And sad, like deer eyes.

So Gabe took Todd the corned beef sandwich he’d brought home from work and hadn’t had time to eat, and a big mug of coffee. Only to have the kid get rude.

And why wouldn’t he? Scared. Desperate. Cold. And accused of being a whore? Did he have one shred of proof that Todd was a hustler? No. He’d assumed it. And one thing Gabe never did was assume.

It makes an ass out of me, and forget the you.

Assumed it all because—no. Don’t go there.

Suddenly, Gabe didn’t feel like working out. It was a big part of his day, but now? How could he run on his three-thousand-dollar NordicTrack treadmill, or work out with his equally expensive Bowflex Revolution Home Gym, knowing there was a young man downstairs who obviously didn’t have enough money to even afford something to eat?

Shower.

That was the ticket. A hot shower, clean off the day’s grime, chase off the chill of the inclement weather, and he’d not only feel better, but he’d be thinking—excuse the expression—straight. Then he could make up his mind what to do about Todd—if anything.

And oh God, he could just hear Tracy, his friend and co-worker, now: “Oh no! No you don’t. Not another stray. And especially not one so young. You know what happened last time.”

Halfway through his shower, he heard someone at the door. Pounding on it, in fact. Now what the hell?

He stepped out of the shower, wiped his feet on the bathmat (something he hated to do), wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed a second for his hair, and went to answer the door before someone knocked it down.

When he opened it, Gabe wasn’t at all prepared for what he saw. Standing outside his apartment was Mr. Martinez—a man almost as wide in the middle as he was tall—and Todd, who looked desperate, his pretty, dark eyes wide and pleading. He wants me to go along with his lie.

The building manager was holding the young man by the arm, and it looked like he was being quite rough about it. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Richards, but I found this kid downstairs, and he claims to be your boyfriend.”

Martinez’s words startled and amused Gabe. “Oh?” he asked, raising both brows.

Abruptly, Todd shrugged off the fat man’s grip and to Gabe’s complete astonishment, threw his arms around him and pressed his scruffy cheek against Gabe’s bare chest. “I’m so sorry, Gabe,” he said. “Please don’t make me go.”

It was hard not to laugh. Having to hug a big wet gay man couldn’t be easy for Todd. But the devil was in Gabe, and he couldn’t resist teasing him. “I don’t know, Todd.” He pretended to pull away. “You said some pretty shitty things.”

The pleading look on Todd’s pale face made Gabe bite the insides of his cheeks. It really wasn’t humorous. He knew the kid was in trouble. He didn’t want to make Todd feel worse.

“I said I was sorry,” Todd all but whined.

Gabe made up his mind in that second to help the boy, but he was going to get in one last shot, mean or not. He really did hate when people used words like faggot. “Well…,” he said, then paused again. “Oh, all right.” With that he pulled Todd close and kissed him. Really kissed him. Hard. Todd started to struggle but then must have realized how that would look. Todd submitted, even allowing Gabe to ease a bit of tongue into his mouth. And damn! Gabe hadn’t realized how much he must have missed kissing. Heart beginning to race, it was all he could do to stop. He could feel his cock shifting under the towel. Would Todd be able to miss it?

“All right, all right! Break it up. Break it up,” said Mr. Martinez. “Son of a bitch, you’re gonna be fuckin’ in the hall in a minute. Get inside.” The large man laughed and started down the hall. “Lover’s spats! Chrrrrrrist.”

When the building manager was gone, Gabe let Todd go. The young man fell back, breathless. “Jeez, man! You sure know how to take advantage of a guy, don’t you?”

Gabe blushed. It had been a shitty thing to do. “Sorry.” Then, to his surprise, he noticed his cock wasn’t the only one to respond. The front of Todd’s jeans was telling a very different story from the one Todd had told Gabe. Well, well, well. Interesting. “Sorry,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have done that. But you were an ass.”

He opened the door wider, and when Todd didn’t move: “Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand there?” Gabe asked quietly.

Todd gulped visibly, looked up and down the hall, and finally nodded. Gabe stood aside and the youth passed him, then let out a quiet gasp. “Wow,” he said. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” said Gabe. “Why don’t you sit down and stay awhile? I’ll go put something on. You caught me in the shower.” Without waiting to see what Todd would do, he padded out of the room and down the hall to get dressed. He could feel the kid’s eyes on him, which was doing nothing to make his erection go down. Does Todd even know he’s watching me?

Gabe dried quickly, pulled on some sweats and his 2CUTE2BSTR8 shirt and, not bothering with socks, returned to the living room. Todd was still standing there, looking around the room as if he had never seen anything like it.

Maybe he hadn’t? Gabe hadn’t bought any cheap shit. He shopped for top-of-the-line furniture, modern without being wild. Pieces that would look good for years and not tacky because they’d gone out of style. Three walls were painted a light blue-gray and the fourth a much darker shade, providing a dramatic backdrop for the furnishings: A black leather couch and two deep and comfortable chairs in a color that matched the darker wall. Coffee table and end tables of black lacquer, like the small table by the door, and a matching buffet against one wall. A large industrial piece of art, metal gears and cogs with a clock, dominated one wall. The lamps were metallic and industrial looking as well. A fireplace in the original white and black marble was the centerpiece of another wall, above it a painting done in an impressionist style. He’d liked it the minute he saw it. It reminded him of Claude Monet’s “Boulevard des Capucines,” a painting he’d fallen in love with when he wasn’t much more than a kid. He couldn’t resist the piece, especially when he discovered it was done by a local gay artist. What could be better than that?

Then there was his sixty-three-inch flat screen TV. Why go small? If he was going to watch television, why not make it as enjoyable as possible? The area rug, drapes, blinds, and lampshades offered a splash of red and cream, keeping the room from being too cold. It was a man’s apartment, no doubt about that. He had even had the hardwood floors redone, though they weren’t his and he had no intention of living his whole life in the apartment.

“Sit down,” he said, and Todd jumped, spun around. Lord, the kid was jittery. “You okay?” Gabe asked him.

Todd stared, not saying anything, then finally shook his head, dark-brown eyes big and sad. “Not really,” he said. He ran fingers through thick dark-brown hair and sighed deeply.

“Let me have your coat,” Gabe said. “And sit down. Relax.”

Todd pulled off his coat, handed it over, and almost flinched when Gabe took it. God. He needs to calm down. “Would you like something to drink? Coke? Ice tea? Beer? Glass of wine?”

“I’m only twenty,” Todd said and sat down on the end of the couch farthest from Gabe.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Gabe said and offered him a smile. Be careful. You could say that kind of thing was what got you into trouble last time.

Gabe’s expression must have helped because Todd gave a half smile in return. “Whatever you’re having,” he said.

“Well, I’ve been planning on opening a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Why not tonight?”

Todd’s mouth turned into a straight line and he nodded.

Gabe hung up Todd’s coat and paused, realizing how lightweight it was. Not a goose feather or bit of quilting between the layers. Shit, the kid must have been cold. He went into the kitchen, which he’d also had redone, even stripping the cabinets and replacing the counter. Tracy thought he was crazy for doing it.

“You already pay rent. Why fix up the place?”

“Because I live there, Tracy. I want to enjoy living there.”

“I don’t know why you just don’t buy a house,” she said. Tracy was a statuesque brunette with a tendency to wear red. She called it one of her two power colors. She certainly got the attention of the men around her, clients as well as co-workers, gay as well as straight. “Get something really nice in Hyde Park or even Brookside. Make improvements that’ll benefit you and not the owners of that building.”

“They’ve let me skip rent on quite a few occasions with what I’ve done to the place,” he’d told her.

“Not equal to what you’re spending I bet.”

“You’re missing the point,” Gabe said. “I like it there. I like having mostly gay neighbors. And it tickles me thinking of the prize somebody’s going to get when they get my apartment after I leave.”

“They’re going to defecate a brick is what they’re going to do,” she replied. “Hopefully, it won’t be wasted on some lesbian who can’t appreciate it.”

“Now Tracy….” Defecate. Not shit.

“I can just see some gay boy’s face. Mother skeeter! When he walks in, he’s gonna think he struck the jackpot.” She grinned. “It’ll be Christmas, no matter what month they move in.”

Gabe smiled at the thought. He wasn’t sure what Todd’s sexuality was; he suspected the young man didn’t know himself, despite his denials. Todd sure seemed to be dazzled by the apartment, though. Would a straight kid even have noticed? Todd was acting like Alice in Wonderland. It was sweet. Speaking of which, would Todd want the Schwartzbeeren he’d been planning on opening, or would it be too sweet? Should he just play it safe and go with a merlot? Or would that be too dry? He started to ask and then remembered a teenhood of Boone’s Farm cheap wine. Sweet was the order of the day, he suspected.

Gabe opened the bottle, poured two glasses, and returned to the living room and handed Todd one of them. Todd reached for it, and Gabe saw the young man’s hand was trembling. Not a lot, but shaking all the same. Nervous? Something far worse? He hoped the kid wasn’t some kind of addict, although his instincts told Gabe it was nerves. He had to help the kid relax. “Music?” he asked.

Todd gulped again. “Whatever you want,” he said, his voice actually cracking.

Gabe stifled a sigh and went to his sound system, turned it on. It was already set to a soft jazz station, and he thought that should soothe the savage beast. He joined Todd on the couch, and once again the boy cringed. What the hell?

Then it hit him. Todd thought he was going to have to have sex with Gabe. Well, shitfire.

“Todd,” he said softly. “Drink your wine. Relax. If you’re tired, I’ll make up the couch now if you want.”

Todd’s brown eyes widened. “Couch?” he asked.

Gabe nodded. “I don’t have a guest bedroom, so the couch will have to do. I’ll put a couple of blankets on it. It’s really quite comfortable.”

“I-I don’t understand. I’m sleeping in here?”

For just a moment, Gabe thought Todd was going to cry. “Sure, Todd. You can sleep in my room if you want. It’s a king-size bed, plenty of room, but with you being straight, I figured you wouldn’t want to share with a ‘queer’.”

Confusion filled Todd’s face. “I-I don’t… I’m sorry about calling you that.”

“I’ll forgive you this time. In the meantime, I want you to unwind. I’m not paying for you. You told me you’re not for sale.” He gave Todd another reassuring smile.

The confused look came back. “But I figured… since you let me in….”

Ah, sweet boy. “I don’t take advantage of people. Especially not people in trouble. I’m sorry about the offer downstairs. I just thought—”

“I was a whore,” Todd muttered.

Gabe’s heart sank. “Todd, I’m sorry about that. I fucked up. So tonight I’m giving you a place to stay. Get your head together. That’s it.”

With those words, Gabe watched the tension run out of Todd, saw his shoulders lower, his posture relax. A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, but Gabe saw that tears still threatened. What had this kid been through?

Todd sipped cautiously at his wine, and then smiled for real. He took a bigger taste. “Gosh,” he said.

“You like?” Gabe asked, taking a drink himself.

“Yeah. I do.”

Gabe held his glass toward Todd. “Then let’s drink to getting out of the cold.”

Todd nodded and clinked glasses with him, though misunderstanding still shimmered across his face.

Talk to him. “Where’re you from, Todd?”

“Buckman.”

Buckman?

“It’s a little town a couple of hours from here. Lived there my whole life.”

“And now you’re in Kansas City?”

“I had enough of small-town life. I wanted to find myself. Saved up and got out of there.”

“What’s wrong with where you’re from?” Gabe asked.

“Well,” Todd said with a snort. “If there’s a bright center to the universe, Buckman is the town farthest from.” Todd looked away, stared out the double glass doors that let out onto the balcony. The snow was still falling furiously. He looked back. Gabe could see a battle going on there on Todd’s face as he tried to decide what to say. Gabe nodded encouragingly at the kid.

“I left because my parents are crazy,” Todd said finally. “My Mom…. She… I… I left because I have an alcoholic stepfather who… who….” Todd stopped talking a moment, then continued. “I figured it would only be a matter of time till I got a job here, but it’s not that easy. Not one that pays for shit or will give you enough hours to even pay for the electricity. I wanted to go to culinary school. Cooking, you know?”

Gabe nodded. “Cooking, huh.” Now that was a surprise.

“That’s not working out so much. And when the little savings I had was gone—boom!—I was out in the cold.” Suddenly, there were tears springing to his eyes. He wiped at them angrily with the heel of his hand.

“My old man beat me,” Gabe said and placed a hand comfortingly (or at least he hoped so) on Todd’s knee. At least the kid didn’t flinch. “Until I got big enough to hit back. He never laid a hand on me again.”

“Well, I can’t beat up my mom. And my stepdad could break me over his knee.”

Gabe watched, saw the muscles in Todd’s jaw clench, a quick tremble, as Todd struggled desperately to fight back the tears.

“You know, man, it’s okay to cry.” He squeezed Todd’s knee.

“I’m not crying,” Todd shouted, and then suddenly the tears came. They were pouring out of the kid. Gabe moved closer to Todd and put an arm around his shoulders, but that seemed to only make him cry harder.

Gabe stroked the boy’s back. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it out. Let it all out.”

The intensity of the emotions almost frightened Gabe. What do I do? He scooted a little nearer to the boy—taking a chance, not wanting to scare him—and pulled him a bit closer. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Todd seemed to just surrender. It was as if Todd flowed into him, like water filling a vessel. Todd wrapped his arms around Gabe and began sobbing, near convulsing with tears. Gabe did the only thing he could. He held the boy—rocking him, hugging him—and just let him cry.

Chapter 3

TOHIShorror, Todd found himself sobbing like a baby. All the pain and suffering and heartache. It just started to pour out of him. His frustrations, the lost hopes….

He cried for parents—a hard mother and a cruel stepfather—people who might as well have been as dead as the father he couldn’t remember. He cried for Joan, and all that she wasn’t, and for betrayal and the final shock of realizing he really didn’t care what she’d done. Or with whom she’d done it. Did it really matter in the end? He cried for the pain of taking chances, believing in his dreams—looking for the best only to find the worst. For a fantasy that wasn’t coming true. For having never fit in a world where he wanted nothing more than to find a place that was his. He cried until he could cry no more.

Through it all, Gabe was there. A queer. The kind of man he’d been warned about—the worst kind of man—was there for him when no one else was, not even flesh and blood.

What’s more, he couldn’t believe how it felt in Gabe’s arms. He felt so safe. Gabe’s embrace was strangely soothing, peaceful even. The huge pecs were a wonderfully strong pillow for his head, and the big, muscular body made him feel so protected.

Was this how it felt when a father held you? He had no idea. No frame of reference. He couldn’t even remember being held by his dad. There was a picture of it—him still in diapers, sitting in his father’s lap in a porch swing—but that was it. That man had been smiling. But he was dead and the man Todd’s mother married six months later (the bitch!) had never smiled at him. Not that Todd could remember anyway. Unless it was when Todd was in pain.

Yet here was a total stranger, one who’d smiled at him, and more.

Todd knew his mother held him once. There were pictures of that too. And he thought he remembered one time when he was very little—he’d been crying then also; he’d scraped a knee or maybe an elbow—and she’d even kissed him. But that was it. All Todd could remember.

Sometimes Todd wondered what his life would be like now if his real father had lived. What if that smiling man on the porch swing had raised him? How might life be different? Would the man be willing, or even have the desire, to just give him a hug every now and then? Wouldn’t that be amazing?

When Joan wanted to be held, he thought he might like it. He’d been looking forward to getting intimate with a girl for forever. All his friends said it would be great, and that he would love her tits. But he never had. Not really. Being so physical with her felt alien and somehow wrong, although that didn’t make a lick of sense.

And now? This man holding him? It felt good.

It was the first time Todd had felt good in as long he could remember, and he didn’t even know the guy’s last name. Did he? Had the fat man said Gabe’s name? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that it was a wonderful feeling, lying in Gabe’s big arms, resting his head on a hard yet pliant chest. The tears began to abate, slow down. It was like some heavy blanket had been lifted off of his body. Not even knowing he was doing it, Todd snuggled in even closer, melted against the man, was amazed at how their bodies fit together, like two puzzle pieces, even though he was so much smaller than Gabe.

That was when Todd realized his body was responding. He was getting hard—No!—and he didn’t know what to do. No, no. Why am I…? Why was this happening to him?

No. No. No!

He couldn’t be getting this aroused while in the arms of a man.

Not the first time.

He’d gotten hard when Gabe had kissed him.

No. Can’t be.

And it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

No. He couldn’t be getting a hard-on over a guy.

(“You a faggot or something?”)