.. | pariah society | chapter 4 Remy lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could not sleep. It had been three days since his encounter with the strange street kid and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it once. What he suffered more from than anything this new ache in his body, the part of him that desperately wanted it again. Self-satisfaction was no longer enough after having someone else's hands do the work. The thought made him hot to the core. He was afraid sleep would not come for hours; it was early still. Downstairs Remy could still hear his parents mutedly talking and moving about their small flat. His brother and sister had gone to bed hours ago. The house was virtually quiet for the most part, leaving him with nothing to do but dwell on the white smile Dane had flashed right before he'd left. Sometime amid the silence, he closed his eyes but didn't even have time to doze. His eyes snapped open again when he heard the rattling of his bedroom window, then the high pitched whine of its hinges as it was opened. Remy sat bolt upright in bed, blind in the darkness for several seconds and looking in the direction of his only window, through which dim moonlight passed. Among the shadows he saw a dark figure slip inside, gracefully and hauntingly silent. Heart in his throat, he took a deep breath in preparation to shout, but not before a night-chilled hand covered his mouth. "You should keep that window locked," a slightly familiar voice said, "you never know what'll come in." "It's you!" he hissed. Without the light to see his face Remy couldn't tell if his sudden enthusiasm startled the street kid, but figured that it didn't matter. Dane was here now, he had come as he said he would, that was all that mattered. "Hullo, doxie," Dane greeted deep in his throat, allowing Remy to reach for him, grabbing onto his clothes and pulling him closer until their lips met hungrily. In his kisses Remy could feel Dane's satisfied smile but didn't care if he had played into the street kid's hands. He pushed Dane's coat off his shoulders and set to work on his undershirt, groaning his anxiousness in the back of his throat. Remy was too distracted to be shocked at his own lack of shame. He wanted this. He was going to have it. "Hey, slow down," Dane whispered, amused at finding himself nearly naked already. He sat back and removed his boots and the rest of his clothes with a little more care. Remy propped himself up on his elbows. "Sorry," he said softly. "It's just, you left so quickly last time-" In the dim streak of light across his bed he could see Dane's pale, naked form moving toward him. He took hold of Remy's sleeping trousers- the only thing he'd worn to bed- and slowly pulled them down and off. He tossed them over his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, pushing him to lie back. Remy complied with only a little hesitation but Dane hardly gave him time to doubt. The chance for that was over. When he pressed their bodies together his flesh was heated from the layers of clothing he'd been wearing, his skin was smooth and soft. Remy wondered if Dane really led such a harsh life as he'd thought. "How did you find me here?" he asked, tilting his head back for kisses on his throat. The same tickling of a rough chin gave him chills. "I followed you home the first day," Dane mumbled. "But then you waited so long?" Dane's hands ran down the length of his body. "Aw, were you waiting for me, doxie?" His voice was low; he must have known Remy's parents were still up. He sounded a little amused, maybe even a little mocking. "Of course I was," Remy whispered. He turned his eyes away, a little embarrassed for the first time. Dane dipped his head down and kissed Remy's lips gently at first, then with a little more fervor. Too caught up in the heat of his mouth, Remy's hands came up to hold his head in the fashion of their previous meeting, while Dane's hand ran down his stomach, palm flat over his hip and around the back of his thigh. With serious intent he drew Remy's thigh up, spreading his legs apart. "I was waiting for this. You'll let me have it?" Dane mumbled into his lips. His hands had gone to work on Remy's cock, though more slowly this time in rhythm with the paced and absent-minded arching of the boy's hips. Remy pushed his head up into the pillows and gasped for a bit of air. "Uhn, a... anything," he breathed, surprising even himself with the need in his voice. Dane's fingers deftly slipped lower, back, into a spot that made him start with a sharp intake of breath. He struggled to sit up a little, unsure for the first time of the street kid's intentions. In the moonlight he saw Dane smile. "What? Scared already?" he breathed. "Don't you know that I won't hurt you?" With lingering trepidation Remy lay back down at his bidding, hands clenched in fists against the street kid's chest. Dane's voice was warm, low and sincere; he wouldn't hurt him. Not intentionally at least. Those hands traveled down again to that spot and again he smarted at the touch. "But will it hurt?" "Yeah, it will," Dane said, almost cruelly. But he redeemed himself with a gentle stroke of his hand to Remy's hair. "But you won't notice it after a while, I promise." He positioned himself, warm hands lifting his hips, fingers digging into his flesh, lips on Remy's chin and throat. Remy braced himself and clutched Dane's forearms. When the push came he turned his head and cried a little into his pillow, desperate between keeping his silence and loosing all accounts of the world around them but for the sticking of bed sheets to his sweating back and that world that was now, suddenly, inside him. It hurt. His fingernails dug into Dane's skin. God, it hurt. Then slowly a rhythm began, each stroke with a hiss of breath from behind his clenched teeth. He tried to relax his cutting nails; weren't they painful too? But Dane's face was intent concentration as he moved at first, with the occasional soft moan of pleasure from his open mouth. When his arms tired of holding himself up he leaned down for a few strokes and pressed their bodies together. In his ear Dane whispered encouragements, soft words and gentle sounds, all of which made Remy begin to forget the pain and clutch him tighter. Soon he could open his eyes and watch the street kid move above him, a sight he would not soon forget- Dane's shaggy black hair had fallen into his eyes and his lips were parted. There was the dimmest flash of his white teeth. With his fingers Remy could feel the sweat beginning to moisten the skin of his face and neck back. The sight of him, his scent, his heat and power and skill... how could have lived his life without having known something like this? How would he live his life after this night? "Dane?" "Mmm?" "Will you come back again after tonight?" Remy lay in his warm embrace, exhausted, already sore and the most sated he ever remembered being in his life. Dane's voice was a low rumble in his chest beneath his ear; he knew the street kid was falling asleep. Dane murmured, "Maybe I'll take you out with me for a bit." Remy wanted to sit up and look at him but he was far too comfortable where he was. Go out with him? Out into city? What would he tell his parents, siblings? He'd never lied to his parents in the past and hated to start now, but to pass on an opportunity like this one went against every newly formed fiber in his body. "Where would we go?" He felt Dane lazily shrug. "Out, about," he answered. "I'll show you a good time, doxie, don't worry. There are lots of things to see." His hand petted Remy's hair. "Lots of places to fuck." His lazy chuckle was full of jest. Remy remained quiet to let Dane drop off to sleep. He was glad enough that the street kid had decided to stay the rest of the night, but even more excited at the prospect of more time with him. This was quickly becoming a dream come true, from boredom to excitement, dull to captivating. He wondered briefly before he joined Dane in sleep where he would go from here, what new adventures he would go on and if they could possibly be more exciting that the one he'd just experienced. The possibilities seemed endless. Dane came back three nights later and they slept together again. He came back the next week, and the next. Remy would wait anxiously up for him, looking out his window at the shadowy street for the dark, slender figure to appear. Dane never came from the same direction twice in a row, and sometimes he even dropped onto the sill from the roof above. It was as if he were all over the city all the time, as if this was the only place he frequented more than once. Remy found that the first night they were together, indeed, the first time they had touched at all, Dane had been holding back. Now that they were getting familiar with each other his true sexual appetite came out as quite ravenous. He nipped and played and went at it hard and long, and would sate himself to his heart's content. But he was quite tender afterwards, gathering Remy's limp, exhausted body in his arms and kissing his face and hair, there pressed against him, stroking him to sleep before their damp skin had dried. For weeks Dane visited him regularly before he began to take Remy into the city, the real city, where they made love in the strangest and most exciting of places. He always had Remy back home by the next day, so there would be little explaining to do, and his parents were never the wiser. It was almost too easy, this deception. Months passed. When the time had come to climb out of his bedroom window for the last time, he'd never looked back. He'd had no compunction about leaving home. He loved his family and would miss them, but life outside was too intoxicating, too consuming. He'd made it a point not to think about it too hard, but still wondered if that was how Dane felt, if this sort of self-anesthetization put him at ease. It was comforting having no responsibilities but his own, and quite easy to make himself forget everything he'd once been accountable for. They spent the nights on rooftops, hostels, or in some friend's run down flat when it got too cold. They broke into places, stole their food and clothing; or at least the money for it. If times got lean and there was no food or shelter to be had, Dane would come up with a bit of money here and there and all would be well. He taught Remy how to run from the bolls, how to spot rook kids, how to gamble at cards and dice, and how to cheat. Dane often teased him about his enthusiasm for the life they led, how he still seemed so excitably innocent after everything they'd been through, but Remy knew that it was what drew the street kid to him. He couldn't help it. He loved their life, he loved their sex. He loved Dane. And what he had given up for the street kid in the course of that year that passed seemed a small price to pay in the long run. Their two figures darted in and out of the shadows, playfully chasing each other down a deserted street as a light drizzle began to fall. Gas lights lit the alley sporadically and cast the area with an electric orange glow, giving the false illusion of warmth. They'd been playing about in the rain for nearly an hour, spurred by good spirits and bellies full of hot food that Dane had managed to lift. He was so good with his hands, the ease at which he could pinch something was incredible. Remy had often wondered if he would ever get quite that good. "Wait, wait, stop. I need to breathe!" Remy finally gasped, pulling Dane to a halt by the sleeve of his heavy coat to rest beneath an old tattered awning. They leaned together against the damp wall, watching their breaths move out in puffs of white mist. Flighty with the new rain and a good run, Dane pinned his lover against the wall for some impulsive hungry kisses. "We'll build that endurance yet," he growled. Remy responded with a muffled laugh, always eager for contact, though he was still too out of breath for anything intense. They remained together for a few more fleeting moments before Dane grabbed his hand and pulled him into the rain again. "Come on!" he called, letting Remy go and sprinting along the curb, hopping up and down it as he ran. He was so energetic tonight! The hostel was his target this time. It stood a looming seven stories into the dark rainy sky when they came upon it, beckoning them with its warmly lit windows and the promise of a soft bed. When his companion caught up with him, Dane gestured meaningfully up to it with his chin. True to form, Remy looked doubtful. "We don't have enough money for that," he reasoned, craning his neck up. His misgivings were well-founded; there was no way they'd be able to play for such a place, even if it was on the lower end of town. But such things had never stopped his lover. "I swear, you're still such a tyro sometimes," Dane admonished, dragging him along. He wiped his wet black hair from his eyes with a wolfish grin. Though he followed compliantly enough, Remy remained skeptical. True, he'd only been on the streets for a year now, but that didn't mean he would ever give up his instinctive caution over things Dane tended to ignore. But Dane had been out here much longer, knew these streets better than Remy had known his own home, so he trusted him unquestioningly. If it wasn't for Dane, he wouldn't even be out here. He would still be at home, living among a loving family in a warm flat, never hungry and always looked after. It was a rare boy indeed that didn't know the worth of having a legitimate birthright, and even more rare was the one who would give that up. But the moment that lean black-haired boy had climbed through his bedroom window, the moment he'd made love to him- Remy's plans suddenly changed. He no longer wanted that safe life. He wanted to be wherever Dane was, even if it meant leaving all he'd ever known behind. He looked up as Dane climbed the rusted scaffolding onto an old iron staircase that led down the side of the building as an escape route. Every room window had an exit that way. Or, according to his lover, an entrance. "It'll be fine," Dane promised down to him, seeing again the look of reservation on his lover's face. He helped to pull Remy up, then took the lead again as the climbed the rickety stairwell. He tactfully peered into each window they passed, checking to see if any of the rooms were empty. Remy followed, his arms wrapped tightly around himself against the sudden cold. He looked warily about. A quick peek through the window of the room revealed its vacancy. Though no lights were on inside, he could see in well enough from the streetlamps behind them. "Here we go," his lover said, stopping their search. It was almost too easy; the window was unlocked and they slipped inside. Dane made an approving survey of the room while Remy shook out his wet hair, finally somewhat at ease with his lover's plan. He'd missed the comforts of a warm room and fire, though he never told Dane that. His lover wanted to give him everything he could, but a home like that simply wasn't possible when it was just the two of them. "Do you think someone is coming back?" he asked. Dane was locking the bolts on the door, just in case. He stood there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "I don't think so, the fire's cold. This place is always empty." Finally getting at ease with their surroundings, Remy gave him a sultry gaze. "Then why don't you come over here," he murmured, letting his outer coats slip to the floor. Dane just watched him from afar, his entire demeanor having changed. Remy threw the last of his clothing to the floor. "What are you laughing at?" He advanced on his lover until he'd pressed himself fully up against him, feeling the chillbumps rise on his skin from the damp of Dane's clothes. "You've changed so much," he answered, letting his lover divest him of his layers of clothing and doing little to help. "A year ago you were so clumsy about it. And now look at you-" "A regular street whore." Remy impatiently threw his lover's coat to the floor. Dane settled back on the bed to help with the rest of his clothing. "Even street whores aren't as eager as you sometimes." "Oh? And how do you know that?" With the last of his clothing gone, there were no barriers left. Remy crawled up onto the bed and into the embrace of a body he knew so well. The heat, the scent, a touch he could not imagine having to living without. "Because I go out and fuck a few of ‘em while you're sleeping every night." The jibe earned him a slap to his bare thigh and he relented with kisses, laughter in his throat. Dane was right in his joking. Ever since he'd been introduced to sex, he had found it very hard to go without, even from day to day sometimes. And Dane, supposedly older, wiser, had certainly not discouraged him; in fact he seemed only too happy to indulge in a lover's wanting that matched his own. "But look at that, you'll always have that little blush to your cheeks," Dane said, brushing his face with his fingers. "A houseboy to the end, no matter how you hide it-" For a moment he submitted to Remy's kisses, which were trying to shut him up. "Mmm... it's perfect, that little bit of innocence you'll always hold onto." Remy lifted his head a little. He was aware of the position of his body, on all fours over Dane; inner thighs rubbing the outside of his hips; their cocks touching. How Dane could still call him innocent was always beyond him. "You'll never be rid of it," his lover said, as if clarifying. He reached up to brush Remy's wet hair from his eyes. "You were born with it in that cushy home of yours. Me? I'm a lost cause." Remy sighed and rubbed his hips against Dane's. "I don't think you're a lost cause," he said, not realizing for a moment that that was exactly what Dane had meant about his unsulliable virtue. He still believed in the basic goodness of people, after all. Afterwards, Dane conceded to lay comfortably in his lover's arms, almost dozing under the hands that stroked his hair and lips that kissed his face. "Have you thought about the rookery?" Remy asked suddenly. Dane sighed. This conversation again. "I don't want to join," he answered. "I told you that already." "It would be safer than being out here by ourselves. I know it's dangerous, even when you try to hide me from it." "I don't want to have to follow anybody else's rules." His lover smiled down at him lazily. Remy had a beautiful look about him after sex; the way his sated contentment saturated his green eyes and relaxed his face. "Safety lies in numbers, Dane, and I mean more than just two." Dane laid his head back down and chewed it over. Remy had been pushing for them to join a rook for a while now, ever since they'd seen what could happen to kids who went alone. The bolls were getting bolder and pushing into deeper parts of the city, and it seemed only the cunning mobs could avoid them successfully. But he still hated the idea of a pack like that. Having to obey and follow, move when someone said move, run when someone said run. And it didn't help that Cade had gotten in contact with him again in the past few weeks- something he had neglected to tell Remy. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to ensure the two didn't meet at all. Remy had no idea about Cade, or any of their dealings for that matter. How Dane was still very much at the front of his gambling ring and how every now and then he had to slip off to break someone's fingers or worse for their failure to pay a debt. How he exacted swift punishments that made their particular ring the most feared of all, but also the most profitable. He'd worked hard to keep up his reputation as someone not to be fucked with, then went home to an oblivious, but adoring lover. He knew quite well the duplicity of it all, but that part of his life was not something Remy could handle. A houseboy was a houseboy, after all. But there was no fooling Cade. The blond had not been happy to find that Dane had thrown away many of his roving ways for that houseboy; he took it almost as a personal affront. But like everything, after the initial raising of the eyebrows, he kept his opinions to himself and got to business. It was a mob that Milo had gotten underway that was ready to build its ranks, and Cade wanted Dane a part of it. They'd argued about it- well, more like Cade listening silently while Dane argued- because it went against everything he believed in. Independence, that's what was important. He could take care of himself and Remy well enough without the help of others, thank you very much, and would never accept being part of such a herd, even if someone like Cade could do so. But then again, Cade had never made himself part of that group, he knew, hypocritically. He just did what he always did; he stood outside the circle and watched. "Do you think we'll always be together?" Remy asked suddenly, snapping him from his thoughts. "Don't you?" he said softly. He raised his head to meet his lover's eyes. Remy's smile was as warm as the room itself. "Then say it like you said it the first time." "You sound like a woman," Dane teased, and got a pinch in the ribs. He relented and nuzzled Remy's ear. "I love you, doxie," he said. Cade's advice be damned, the whole world could go fuck itself. He no longer cared. Through the simple course of a year he felt as if he'd known the boy in his arms an entire lifetime. Survival was simple enough on one's own, but to do it with someone at your side, to have a warm body next to you on cold nights; to teach and to protect. To be able to hold onto innocence and freshness like a drug addiction. Spending moments of his life that no longer meant nothing and withered away into non-memory. Time passing meant there was a future, it was real, it was fleeting. He should have cherished every moment as if it were their last, and realized that when he said those words, he really meant them. That was why it was such a bittersweet thing that those happened to be the last words they shared. It was hard to recollect exactly what happened in the course of the next few moments, amid the sound of the door getting kicked in and Remy's cry of alarm. Heavy footsteps running into the room, nightsticks held high, and the recognizable uniform of the bolls flashing before them. They grabbed Remy first- he was nearer- and forced him down with the weight of grown men. Dane backed up against the headboard, made a rash decision to make a break for the space between the two who stood with their hands out, ready to catch him. He could hear Remy calling for him but couldn't see him, there were just too many of them in the room. If he could just get to him, past these two- A vice grip caught his arm and slammed him back against the panes of the very window they'd climbed in through. His bare back registered the give of the glass an instant before it broke and he went through, catching a glimpse only of his feet before the open sky was looming above him and rain was in his eyes. He felt no pain, not even the sensation of falling. Just... nothing. part 5 | back to part 3 | back to main