Date: Mon, 5 Mar 2007 06:27:09 -0400
From: Ruthless <ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca>
Subject: Little Boy Lost part 5

	Matthew squatted in the bottom of the shower stall at my feet. With
his back curled over like that I could see the lumps in his backbone. His
back was smooth, only a few round blobs of darkness on one side showed the
bruises where his ribs had been cracked. His hair was flattened to his head
from the water and looked very round. He was soaping my toes. He rubbed the
soap on my feet, worked up to my ankle, around the anklebones up to my
calves. He looked up squinting into the hot water that drummed onto his
face. I stood quite still with my feet spread.

	Kneeling, he soaped my knees and then worked up my thighs. His slim
hands went between my legs, under my balls, working lovingly. He used both
hands on each thigh in turn, massaging the soap in. Then he slid his soapy
hand into my crack. He ran his forefinger up and down, down to my balls,
another squirt of soap and then lightly stroking and smoothing the soap
in. My hard on was pointing for my chin, had started pointing for my chin
back when we had thrown our clothes on the bathroom floor.

       Now he was soaping my prick. He squeezed just under the head of my
cock working the soap up and down. The water rinsed it away. His hand kept
moving. He stood up. It was too hard to keep working from underneath. His
bare belly bumped my hip. His own cock was sticking out like a splinter. He
poked it up under my balls so that the sacs were rubbing on his tip. He
squeezed my cock again. Then his hands went behind me and cupped my ass. He
clutched it tightly.

       I brought my hand down to my cock. Watching him I jerked. He
wriggled his hips side to side, holding my ass, leaning back making his
cock rub against me. I was pretty close to cumming already. I stroked
fast. He wriggled harder, side to side, more eager. He started humping my
leg, still leaning back so that I had the room to stroke. Water splashed
from my shoulder onto his chest. The soap was gone, sluiced away. Matthew
had his mouth open round, unaware it was open, drawing in the hot steaming
air, breathing hard. His eyes were down, staring at my cock while he humped
on me.

       "Uh!" I grunted. It was happening. I felt my balls drawing up, felt
the shock travel. Matthew moaned pushing his belly and chest inward. The
white pulse of my cum jetted. It squirted on his chest, shining. Blobs
trickled on his breastbone and ran down to his belly. He was leaning in for
it, trying to get it to land on his body.

	Matthew sighed, release like he was the one that had cum. I let my
hand fall and he stopped pushing his body forward. The water's steady
trickle made the cum fade, made it begin to slip down his body. It washed
away and I took him, turned him and wrapped my arms around him. My cock was
against his ass. I held his cock jerking him, holding him firmly against
me. He didn't grind his ass into me though. He just leaned back against me
while I thrummed on his cock. His head went back against my shoulder and
his hand pawed lightly at my forearms, half in an embrace, urging me to
keep stroking.

	Then it was his turn. His young cum shot higher than mine had. It
was a sudden spurt, fast and hard. His body quivered as he came. He stayed
pressed back into me tightly, sagging against me now. I held him up with my
arms.

	"Man, I wish I had found you years ago," Matthew said dreamily.

	"I'm kind of glad I found you too," I said.

	He turned around. Water dribbled in a silver thread from his chin
as the shower ran onto his cheek. He flinched at the water hitting his eyes
and grinned at the same time. Then he brought his and linked them behind my
neck. Deliberately he leaned up and put his lips against mine. I leaned
down. We kissed. He clung to my neck, lips seeking against mine, his eyes
sealed. He kissed me almost desperately.

	I'm going to cut the description of Christmas short. Matthew was
supposed to get his marks before the holiday but then St. David's computer
broke down and they told us that none of the kids would get them until the
holiday was over. So we held a quiet Christmas at home. I gave him mostly
stuff he needed like spare shirts and sleep pants and his own wristwatch,
and he gave me a wooden dresser top stand that he had made. It was one of
those valet things that make it convenient for emptying out your pants
pockets with hollows in the wood to dump your change into and a little
stand to hold your wallet.

	"I made it in tech," he said anxiously. "It's not very good, is it?
I don't think I got the hollows lined up perfect. But I did try. I spent
hours at sanding it."

	I smiled at him.

	He was still uncertain. "I did think it would be better than buying
you something with your own money," he said.

	"I like it," I said. I put it on my dresser and I used it every
night.

	Then we took our skiing trip, staying in the lodge for two
nights. That was fun and luckily the wind wasn't too sharp the three days
we were out on the slope. Matthew ended up rolling in the snow a lot. He
was always having his skis go taking off ahead of him and sitting down with
a bump. But we took it easy on the easy slopes until he got the hang of
it. I didn't get any serious skiing done for sure. I just hung out with him
and I have to say I laughed my ass off when he took off down one of those
short beginner hills at top speed hollering "Banzaiiiii!"

	But the holiday seemed short because I had other things in mind. I
made it as good a holiday as I could and Matthew smiled wide, smile so wide
it turned his young eyes into slits and he dug his head into my armpit and
lay with my arms linked around him. "I love you, Currier," he said.

	"I love you too," I said lightly. It was funny I never said it to
him more. He probably needed to hear it. But Matthew still had that reserve
in him, that shyness around me sometimes. And how could I blame him. He
knew my bad temper. I thought that maybe he would have picked Christmas to
give up his virginity to me, as a kind of a big symbolic Christmas gift,
but I was glad I got the valet-thing instead. I still didn't want him
turning ass up for me unless he really wanted it. I didn't want it as a
gift. I wanted him so horny he was doing it for himself and not for me.

	With the exams over, he got to take a break from his studying and
he took his skis out in the front yard. Of course they were down hill skis
and the yard was flat so it wasn't so good for cross country skiing but
Matthew practiced with them so he got better at staying on his feet. I just
smiled. He was a long way from decently steep hills yet. But give him time
and four or five more ski trips.

	It was seven o'clock at night. I jingled my keys while Matthew
shrugged into his bulky winter jacket and checked his pockets for his
mitts. He already had the cute hat with the ear flaps on. It was a good
night for ear flaps. The mercury had gone down. Outside the sky was a hard
glistening black, studded with stars. The trees were frozen fast, black
lacework against the icy gleam of the night sky.  Under our boots the snow
crunched.

	"Brrrr..." Matthew shivered as he got into the car. "Do you think
he's dumb enough to come out on a cold night like this?'

	"You never know," I said with a shrug. "You don't need to study
tonight, so we might as well go and see."

	I had started the car inside the house but the windows still
frosted from our heat as we got in. Matthew scraped at the window with his
mitts. I saw his smooth face reflected where he had polished the ice off
the glass. The car was sluggish, coughing softly reluctant to turn
over. The roads were deserted.

	There was something sad about the Christmas lights, white and blue
and green, forgotten after the holiday, burning un-noticed in the
darkness. As always when we did this evening forays Matthew was quiet. I
drove to the snack bar and parked in the lot behind. I sat looking and
killed the engine. After I had taken in the deserted parking lot, the lit
up price lists for burgers and shakes, the entombed trashcans and the white
banks of snow I looked at Matthew. He looked glum and with the sad face and
the silly hat on, he looked younger than he was.

	"Can we run the engine to keep warm?"

	"We don't want him to know someone drove you here. We want him to
think you're alone," I said.

	"Okay," said Matthew. I saw his lips move, and read the silent
words. But he's not coming, Matthew mouthed.

	That made me grin. Matthew was starting to get lippy. That was a
good sign. He wasn't the docile, cowering kid he used to be. He might not
be verbalizing it openly yet, but he was thinking it loud enough that I
could see it.

	We settled down. He shifted his boots sometimes. I handed him gel
hand-warmers, cracking them for him before he slipped them into his
mitts. I slipped another pair of the hand-warmers into my pockets. A car
came, with two teenaged girls who stood shuddering with the cold as they
waited for their order. Steam rose around them from their breaths. They had
short jackets and you could see their asses were freezing in the tight
jeans they wore. Matthew stared at them and I wondered if he had a bisexual
half that was appreciating the curves on the shivering girls.

	They went. The next car was a fat man who got a big order. Then
nothing. The girl manning the snack bar must have been bored. Matthew sat
scrunched low in his seat, eyes on the ordering window.

	I looked at my watch. It was after nine thirty. I was also bored.

	Around ten after ten a lone male came walking down the road. I
stiffened. The guy had his hood up. We couldn't see his features at
all. Matthew shot me a look.

	"I think that's him," I said. "He came from Jason's street."
Matthew's eyes got bigger.

	We both scrambled out of the car. I handed him the wad of bills.

	"Do what we rehearsed. Exactly what we rehearsed," I said.

	He stood frozen. Steam made plumes around both our faces. His eyes
moved. Then I saw him swallow but he couldn't get any words out. Matthew
turned around and trudged slowly towards the snack bar platform.

	I watched him go. There was always a chance Moody would jump on him
right there, at one look at him. If that were so I would come running up
five steps after Matthew. Only I was willing to bet that wasn't what the
teenager would do. He'd never roughed Matthew up in front of other people
before. He wouldn't want the girl from the snack bar as witness.

	I unlocked the trunk of the car and got down, crouched. Down below
the side of the car like that I was out of the wind but I felt the bitter
cold of the hard frozen ground. The wind blew a spume of snow, a fine plume
of snow dust as it hissed along the ploughed lot. The drifts made wave
shapes. I could see nothing but the glow. I listened hard.

	Time it right, I thought to myself. Matthew, don't blow it. Don't
look around for me and show him that I'm here. It was a long wait. Matthew
must have ordered the fries. I felt the cold going through me and shivered,
racked by it. My hands were loose, ready and open in my pockets. I had them
bare. I couldn't afford to be encumbered at all. Slowly I started to
freeze. The skin on my face grew numb. My ears prickled with the cold and
felt like they were burning; frostbite. When the wind blew harder the plume
of snow blew onto me and I heard the trees behind me creak.

	Crunch, crunch, scrunch... crunch... fast foot steps, footsteps so
hurried they were nearly running. Of course nobody stood around or ambled
in weather like this. Matthew running wouldn't mean that he was being
chased. It wouldn't make Moody think he knew he was being chased. If only
he chased the boy.

	Then when I saw the slip-sliding jerky way that Matthew moved I
knew that Moody was after him. He did good. He was clutching the bag of
French fries in both hands so tight that he was almost crushing it in
half. He never looked at the car but blindly strode past me, chin up. I
breathed shallowly, almost holding my breath. Don't let Moody see the fog
of my breath! Then I heard the older boy's voice.

	"Hey, Faggot!" I heard his footsteps pattering on the crisp
snow. He was breaking into a run, straight towards me.

	One two three four five... Matthew had just made it into the trees
when Moody started to run past the bumper of the car. He didn't get far. I
stood and got one arm around his throat behind. The other arm I grabbed his
wrist. I expected him to be strong and he was strong. He made a sudden
gulp, a strangled noise. Then I had his wrist twisted up, locked in a
plastic handcuff. I clipped them together, let go of his throat long enough
to flip the trunk lid up, kicked his feet out behind him and tipped him in.

	Moody fell into the trunk on his face, beginning to jackknife but
strangled and without the leverage. It took about four and a half
seconds. I slammed the lid and looked about.

	There was no one in sight, only the deserted empty lot. Matthew was
gone in the trees.

	"Hey! Okay, come back!"

	In the trunk something muffled thumped. I heard a rattle. I left
him and went after Matthew. He met me at the edge of the trees. He was
white, breathing hard, melted snow and fog making his lips and nose
sparkle. The French fries looked wrung out. "Currier!? He..." Matthew
grinned, confused and then stopped. "You didn't get him?'

	"I got him," I said.

	"You got him? What did you do to him?" He looked at the parking lot
at the ground near the bumper of the car. He was still grinning. Perhaps he
thought I'd leave Moody battered, beaten into a collapse the way he had
left Matthew.

	"Don't worry." I steered Matthew back towards the car. "He's in the
trunk."

	Matthew laughed.  "Fucking tard! You'll show him seriously now,
right?" He looked around at me and at the cold still night uncertainly as
he scrambled into the front seat of the car. "What are you going to do? We
got him in the trunk. You going to beat him up?"

	"That's about the size of it," I agreed.

	"So, what you going to do? Where are you going to take him? Not
home?" Matthew shuddered with excitement and with the cold as I started the
car engine again.

	"I've got a place where I'm taking him," I said to Matthew. "The
thing is, I don't want to fuck this up. Get the wrong guy? No. So I'm going
to take him out of the trunk in this garage I know about, and you're going
to have to take a good look at him. Okay? A positive ident. That's vital,
because there is no way we are doing this to the wrong guy. I got to know
he's the right guy for sure before I lay another finger on him."

	"Right," said Matthew.

	Matthew stopped shivering while I drove. There were a few thumps
and then he giggled. His eyes flashed and he looked at me mean with
mischief. "I hope you make him cry. Think you can make him cry, Currier?"

	"I might," I said.

	The garage wasn't far away. It was about two miles, far enough that
it could have meant a problem if Moody was smart enough to disconnect my
rear brake lights or something. But I knew he wasn't getting out of the
trunk. I'd made sure of that when I picked the car I'd borrowed for this
game. The garage was an industrial garage. It was the kind you could get a
full sized eighteen wheeler into, parking maybe three of them in a row
beside the landing bay. The ceiling above was huge and vaulted and
dark. There were only a couple of lights, yellow gleaming down on the side
of the loading dock so you could see if the truck headlights got switched
off. But it was bitter tomb cold in there. All it was, was out of the snow
and the wind and out of sight. It was still as cold as a grave.

	I checked the brake lights. They were fine.

	"Go down over there," I ordered Matthew. "He's got handcuffs on but
he might have a knife and he might want to fight. I don't want him even
seeing you until I get you to come back."

	"Okay," Shivering, Matthew went down to the end of the garage in
the dark.

	Angry gleaming eyes and a sneering mouth met me when I opened the
lid of the trunk. The kid was tall, nearly as tall as me and certainly a
head and a half taller than Matthew. He wasn't fighting though. I dragged
him out of the trunk. He kicked, a few reflex kicks, not effectual. This I
could do and I could do easily. He was no problem at all to me.

	"Fuck... fuck you, what you... What you fucking do, Man?" Moody
muttered. He tried to twist out of my grip so I let him twist in the
direction I wanted him. He tried to elbow me backwards when I undid the
handcuff so I was able to drag his hand up behind him. He turned and he was
backwards to the dock. In another few seconds I had him handcuffed
standing, facing the concrete, his arms stretched in front of him to the
edge of the metal ramp.

	"Who the fuck... who the fucking shit are you, Man? You got to tell
me. That's the law... Fuck!" The older boy vibrated. He didn't give me any
trouble when I put my hands in his pockets. He glared at me. I found his
money, keys... I wanted a wallet. It was in his inside jacket not his pants
pocket. I carried it over to the light and flipped it open.

	Jason Moody, said the ID, birth date, April 11th, 1983.

	"Matthew," I called. "Come over here now."

	The boy came back. His giggles were gone. His eyes were large and
an uncertain smile fluttered around on his face.

	"I want you to look at this man really closely and tell me if there
is any possibility that he wasn't the guy who beat you up."

	Matthew came around and peered at Moody. The older boy glared. "I'm
killing you, Man," Jason hissed.

	"No, I'm killing you," I said. "You want to hit him," I offered
Matthew. "Kick him or punch him?"

	"Yeah!" Matthew moved up. "You're a fucking coward, Moody. I'm half
your size. What kind of a hero you think you are, coming after me. Robbing
me. You're a thief," he spat.

	Moody stared back sullenly.

	"Why did you attack me? Why? Why?" Matthew demanded.

	Moody said nothing. He twisted a little and looked back at me, just
a quick look, measuring where he was.

	"Cause you got told I was gay, right? I'm gay; you got a right to
beat me?" Matthew's voice went up. "You're a fucking asshole, Moody!!" He
swung a cocked fist. He hit Moody in the kidney.

	But the teenager didn't convulse. He hadn't been hit so
hard. Matthew was a novice at punching. It must have hurt but no more than
that.

	"Leave me fucking alone!" Moody said.

	Matthew held his fist up in Moody's face. I watched not
intervening. "You are going to get hurt this time! Not me! You're going to
get the beating. So how you like that?"

	I listened to a few minutes of this. But after that one punch in
the kidneys it was all talk. And now Moody was shifty eyed, looking away
from Matthew and then bringing his eyes back.

	After awhile Matthew fell silent. He looked at Moody and turned
around and looked at me. "You all done?" I said lightly.

	"Yeah," said Matthew.

	"Okay, off we go," I said.

	"Off we go?" He sounded startled.

	"I'm going to be beating him up in a few minutes," I said. "And
that's breaking the law. I don't want you to see it, Matthew."

	"Why not?"

	"Because then you won't be able to say you saw me do it. Evidence,"
I said. "I'm thinking of you giving evidence against me in a court of
law. Besides, beating up a guy, the way I'm going to beat him up gets
messy. You don't need to see it."

	Matthew's young brow wrinkled.

	"Come on, youngster," I said. "Back to the car."

	"No, wait," said Matthew. He shot a look at Moody again. The man
was craning his neck over his shoulder to look back at us but Matthew
didn't glare at him. He looked at Moody and then at me and then at Moody
again.

	"So what are you going to do?" he said.

	I shook my head.

	"You can tell me," he insisted. "You think I would ever, ever give
evidence against you for doing this?"

	I smiled slightly. "Not voluntarily."

	"So what are you going to do?"

	"First I'm going to punish him for fag bashing you," I said. "Then
I'm going to hurt him so bad that he's afraid of me enough that he leaves
town."

	Matthew stayed staring at me. A little bit of fog came from his
mouth in the cold tomb of the garage.

	"Really?" he said. "Why can't I watch?"

	"You'll be sick," I said.

	Matthew was wide eyed, tension bringing his brows down over the
staring brown eyes. "You said I have to toughen up."

	I shrugged. "It'll be sick Matthew. He hurt you because of your
sexuality. I'm going to hurt his. I'm not going to let him walk out of here
even able to conceive of hurting you again."

	"What?"

	I shook my head.

	"You are going to kick him in the nuts...? No, I know you're going
to kick him in the nuts. What...?"

	"Look," I said. "I really don't want you knowing more about this
than you have to. I can do it neatly, do it safely, do it in a way that
doesn't come back to haunt us. But you don't have to watch. It would be
far, far better if you trust me, forget the details and just trust me to
have looked after our little friend in a way that puts him out of the game
forever. When I'm done he won't be coming back to look for you ever
again. I've done this before. I've done worse that this before. In fact,
this is the kind of job that I'm good at. That's all you need to know."

	"But... what if he talks?"

	"Trust me," I said.

	"I do trust you," he said. "I just want to watch."

	"Matthew? He's going to do some screaming and whining before I'm
through. You don't want to watch that."

	"Then I'll go behind the car and not look." Matthew had his lips
pulled in tight anxiously. "I need to know." I could tell Matthew was
afraid. He was much more afraid than anything else at this point. Whatever
anger he had worked up before was gone and in its place was something close
to dread.

	"Somehow I don't think you're enough of a sadist," I said.

	"Hurt him," said Matthew and he swallowed. "Let me see what you
do."

	I walked back over to Moody. The man's eyes were on me now, big
with terror. I used my foot to kick him in the kidneys. His body slammed
into the dock in front of him and he gave a great grunt of pain. He
finished by breathing in pain, half way to moans, "Ahhh...ahhh...ahhh..."

	"It'll just be like that," I said but even when I said it I saw by
the white's of Matthew's eyes that he didn't believe me. The boy stood
staring with his arms limp by his sides. "That's not more than he did to
me," said Matthew and he swallowed. "I'm not made sick by seeing that."

	"I'm going to rape him, Matthew," I said.

	"You..." he hesitated. "That's what you were trying to tell
me. Those guys in Afghanistan."

	I nodded. "They were prisoners being questioned," I said. "Al
Qaeda. It gave me a way of getting my rocks off and it made them miserable
enough that they broke. I made them ashamed."

	"That's going to be his punishment for fag bashing me?"

	"That's right."

	He sealed his eyes up squinting. "Do it!"

	I shook my head, not in denial but because I thought Matthew was
wrong. I didn't want him to see. I'd corrupted the kid way too much
already.

	He stood there with his legs braced and his shoulders up almost as
if it were him facing the ordeal. But he didn't say anything more. He just
stared hard at me and at Moody.

	I turned back to the young man. "Your bad luck you came of age," I
said. "If you were a boy still, I'd probably rape you, but I wouldn't be
hurting you as bad as this."

	"Fucking leave me alone!" cried Moody desperately. "Leave me
alone!"

	"Shut up or I'll gag you," I said. I put my body up against his so
that I could feel the softness of his ass and he could feel my prick
getting hard. I unfastened his pants from the front and tugged them down.

	"Leave me alone!" Moody shrieked again and then when I belted him
in the kidneys again he broke off into a bark. He didn't scream when I got
his ass bare, his pants down around his shins, when I stepped on them to
pull them off altogether. I took him by the balls from behind and squeezed
until he gurgled.

	"You hurt my godson," I said.

	Then I took my own pants down and caught hold of my prick. I wasn't
fully hard yet. Arguing with Matthew had done that. I knew the boy's eyes
were on my naked butt. "You're a cowardly little cunt," I said. "Fag
bashing grade nine kids." I had condoms in my pocket. I rolled one down but
I didn't lube up the rubber with my spit. I caught Moody by the thighs. I
had to lift them some and drag them back. He whimpered. Then I rammed it up
into him dry.

	I don't know why he didn't curse or shriek while I fucked him. Most
guys don't. I think it's a courage or an endurance thing. Anyway, Moody
didn't make very much noise. I must have hurt the hell out of him. I saw a
little bit of blood on the condom as my latex covered prick sawed in and
out. I was breathing hard through my nose. The fog swirled in front of
me. My ass was out in the cold feeling it but most of all I felt that
tightness that was half pain, the nineteen-year-old's ass clamping down on
my prick. I made myself not think about Matthew behind me. I fucked Moody
until the heat in my testicles tightened up. I felt it pulse inside him and
grinned into his throat.

	When I let Moody put his feet down on the ground again, and I
turned around I had to look at Matthew. He was still standing there with
his chin bravely raised. "You showed him," said Matthew in an uneven voice.

	I nodded. I peeled the condom off and tucked it away into plastic
right away. I got my own pants up and fastened. Moody was breathing hard
listing over sideways like he was feeling weak but I'd had a good enough
look at the complexion of his cheek and neck while I fucked him that I knew
he wasn't close to a faint.

	"That's his punishment for fag bashing you," I said. "For the next
part I need to be alone. You can't stay and watch this Matthew. This is bad
enough for you to have seen already."

	"I have to go?"

	"I don't give you too many orders, Matthew, but this is one," I
said firmly. "Let's go."

	Matthew turned white. I saw the blood drain from his
face. "Currier?" he croaked.

	I tightened my lips. He knew what I was going to do; not how not
the specifics but he knew that I was going to kill Moody. It was just a
faint little shake of the head. Eyes stuck on me, Matthew gave this tiny
negating shake of his head.

	I put my hand on his shoulder. "Let's go." I got him to walk two
paces towards the car and suddenly he spun out from under my hand.

	"Currier, no! You can't kill him!" Matthew babbled. "You mustn't
kill him. He's not worth shit. He's not worth you doing this to him. Please
Currier, no! You can't kill him."

	I got my arm around Matthew again, stopping him. "Pretend you don't
think that, Matthew," I said grimly. "I'm not letting him get away with
what he did to you." Behind me I heard Moody groaning out loud. "You know
he deserves what I do to him."

	"You'll get caught!" Matthew was almost weeping. "Please, please,
you'll get caught. Currier, I'd do anything so you don't get in
trouble. I'd even forgive that piece of shit. But please, please don't kill
him. You'll get caught."

	"It's too late now," I said. "He knows who we are."

	"You'll get caught! Please, couldn't we just beat him up so he's
messed up the way I was or something like that? They'll find his body and
know it was you! There isn't a way you can do it so they won't know."

	"I'm going to drown him, Matthew," I said. "And not beat him up at
all. You see those barrels over there? That one is full of water from
Chancey Lake. I'm going to make sure he has the same water in his lungs as
they find in the river. They won't know he was murdered. They won't find
him until spring. There's just going to be the one bruise on his back."

	"I don't care!" Matthew screamed. "I don't care. Just don't kill
him. I couldn't survive if you went to prison. I can't. I need you. You
mustn't go to prison for me."

	I stood still. I wanted... I didn't know what I wanted. Matthew had
backed away from me in horror or maybe I would have gone to him and put my
arms around him. I didn't say anything. The boy stood before me with
heaving breaths. Behind me I could hear Moody was crying, sobbing baritone
breaths. I just stood and looked at Matthew.

	"What's one more?" I said sadly.

	He knew I meant the guys from Kunzaraih.

	"But..." He looked so sad. "But you aren't really going to wind up
in jail for killing them. Not really?"

	I shook my head. "I don't think I am," I said. "I ought to, but I
won't. You see I got away with murder that time because the CO
approved. They're hushing it up; they buried the bodies without
autopsies. I can get away with this murder too."

	He shook his head.

	"It's a pretty fool proof plan," I said. "Nobody knows he's the one
who fag bashed you, so nobody is going to connect us to him -and besides,
our little friend here has a pretty bad reputation as it is. There's a
dozen other people are going to be more than glad when they hear that he's
drowned. So even if they did think it was a suspicious death there won't be
any way to tell. I'm going to put him into the ice, one of the ice fishing
holes where there is a current. I know I won't be seen. I've been out there
four times and there was never anyone out there at night."

	He wasn't convinced. He stood pale cheeked and solemn.

	"It'll be weeks before he gets found, Matthew," I said. "I wouldn't
have let you get mixed up in this in any way if there was any risk to you."

	"I'm not afraid for me, I'm afraid for you, Currier," he said in a
voice that wobbled. "Please don't murder Jason. However bad a shit he is,
it's not the right thing for you to do."

	"He hurt you," my voice got hard.

	"He won't hurt me again," said Matthew. "Will you, Jason?"

	"No...No, I won't ever," said the teenager from behind me, through
his tears. I looked back. He was shaking his head not looking at us.

	"He's sorry. You showed him now when you raped him. You see, he's
scared."

	I looked again at the nineteen-year-old. "I want to kill him," I
said.

	"Please," said Matthew.

	"Matthew, bach," I said. "I'd do anything for you. But... he's got
to die now. He knows who you are and can tell we were the ones who did this
to him."

	"Please," said Moody with a great liquid sniff. "Please. I won't
tell anyone about this. I promise."

	Matthew came up to me and took me by both hands. "You're the
bravest man, I know Currier. You're the only good man I know. Please
promise me you won't do it."

	"This increases my chances of going to jail," I said.

	A couple of minutes later I untied Moody. He didn't give me any
kind of difficulty. In fact he bawled, wiping his runny nose on the back of
his hand and hurriedly hauled his pants up. He ran away from the big blue
plastic barrels and ran closer to me. He got down in a huddle crouching,
shaking his head and crying. Matthew stood over him grimly, quite unafraid
now.

	"You'd better both get into the car," I said. Moody got into the
back and Matthew got into the front.

	"He won't tell anyone what we did because he won't want anyone to
know that you fucked him, right Jason?" said Matthew.

	Moody, sobbing nodded his head.

	The streets were empty and cold, the dry pavement salt stained. Ice
gleamed black on either side of the car. I took Moody back to the snack
bar. He raised his head to look at Matthew. "Th-thanks, Man," said Moody to
Matthew. "Th-thanks. I won't forget this."

	I went around and opened the door. The teenager gave me one last
hunted look and sidled out with hunched shoulders, a terrified smile on his
face. "I-I just want to say I'm really sorry. Don't come after m-me
again. I won't go near him."

	I didn't say anything. I got back into the car with Matthew. It
seemed to me that very likely Moody wouldn't say anything. He seemed both
cowed and pathetically grateful. Even if he did say anything it would be
his bruises against Matthew's, our word against his. So perhaps it would be
alright.

	Matthew sat with a straight back looking out into the dark cold
night as I drove us home. "You know, I'm really tired," he remarked.

	"You should be," I said.

	He turned his smile on me, luminous in the dark. "I knew you were a
good man. Thanks, Currier."

	I'd just raped a man and come yea close to murdering him and I'd
got Matthew into it as an accessory. And he said I was a good man.

	I drove home silently.

	It was two days after that that Matthew's marks were posted on
line. I logged into the school website and used the password that they had
sent home with him. Of course we could have waited until they mailed him
the information, but he didn't want to wait. He was jittery with worry.

	"I won't have done too badly," he said. "I know I passed. The
science mark, that could be a bad one. I really think... It's not going to
be a good pass. Maybe in the seventies." He sneaked a look at me to see if
I was angry. I just nodded tolerantly.

	I punched the web page up.

	He had an A in Math and in Tech, a C in science and a B in
everything else. His first response was to give me a look to make sure I
wasn't mad. Old insecurities take a long while to overcome. Then he
wandered around amazed by his English mark. He hadn't just made a bare
pass. "I got a fucking B!" he said. "She actually gave me a fucking B!"

	We went out that afternoon. I bought him the PS2 I had promised
because, after some sudden last minute deliberation over maybe getting a
game cube, he decided the PS2 was what he wanted more than anything else in
the world. We set it up together on the TV. I had also got him one game to
go with it, but I was mean. I got him one of the cheap ones out of the
bargain bin. I figured he might want to use the promise of a memory card
and more games as incentive for his next semester.

	He was much too cool to compare marks with any of the other kids. I
heard him later talking to Cullen or to Duncan on the phone. "Yeah... no,
I'm getting a PS2 'cause I graded. It's like, a late Christmas present. I
really want to borrow some games from you. Yeah. No, I'll be grateful for
life..."

	After a couple of minutes he turned around and spoke to me, holding
his hand over the phone so the boy on the other end couldn't hear my
reply. "Hey, could Duncan come over here? He wants to see my new PS2."

	"Sure," I said.

	But that evening wouldn't work, so the boys set it up for after
school on Tuesday when Matthew didn't have to go to the tutor.

	It was Monday when he was back at school that Cleggman called
me. "Currier?"

	"Yes, Rob?"

	"I just wanted to say -look, I know you've maybe been sweating a
bit over what happened back in Afghanistan. But I told you trust me, right?
Well, it's all clear. Anything that might be sensitive has been
shredded. Right. It's done with you. You don't ever have to worry about
that again."

	"Thank you," I said.

	"No way we wouldn't take care of our own guys. Especially one of
our guys like you.  You got us some real good intelligence, names we
needed, everything. So while I don't need to send you back, I'm hoping
you'll stay on the list for me. Things seem to be hotting up in Iraq. I'll
be able to give you a pick of jobs there if we go in. You think you'd be
interested in a field position with more management responsibilities?"

	He couldn't be definite about the new assignment yet. But it was
definitely going to be a raise and more responsibility. I just nodded and
agreed at the right pauses. It all depended on if there would be a war with
Iraq or not. Right then I was thinking it looked probable. And of course it
was the kind of work I could do, the kind of work I was good at. But
hopefully this time there would be less torture involved. I didn't say
that. I made contented and pleased noises for him.

	It was good news for me but not unexpected. Only there was Matthew
to tell as well. After all, since I'd told him I might be going to jail, it
would be good to tell him that I would not.

	He came into my room in the evening. He seemed a little taller than
the first time he had stood in my doorway but there wasn't anymore width to
his shoulders or any new down beginning on his upper lip. He was still very
young.

	"Come in for a good night kiss?" I asked.

	"And a stroke," he said.

	One my bed he wriggled out of his sleep pants. His young cock stuck
out half way. I took my own shorts off altogether. The furnace was thumping
downstairs and the house was creaking. There was cold in the corners. We
lay side by side under the covers.

	Slowly he stroked his own cock while looking at me. Slowly I
stroked my own while looking at him. I didn't offer to suck him again
tonight and he didn't offer it to me. He just gazed at me with thoughtful
brown eyes.

	He was a very beautiful boy. I moved in a little way. He was happy
to kiss me, tongue moving softly teasing in my mouth. We kissed and
stroked. This time he was faster than me. He seemed to have put the rape of
Jason Moody completely out of his mind but I had that and a few other
things on my mind to slow me down. Or it might have been age. Either way,
he came first and gasped and sighed, chest expanding, mouth opened in a
great O and then sank back relaxing completely.

	His eyes were half lidded as he watched me finish myself off. I
beat hard, savagely almost. Sex is a strange and terrible thing
sometimes. I wanted it to hurt somehow, so I jerked myself with an
intensity that was cruel. And when I had squeezed tightly enough and
battered away at myself hard enough I came, cum shooting in one long slow
stream, the shots blending into each other as the jism spattered down onto
my belly and chest.

	"I'm not going to jail, Matthew," I said.

	"What... the Afghan guys?"

	"Right. They shredded any paper evidence."

	"So everything is okay." He paused. "Why did they do that?"

	"Shred the evidence? Oh, it's not just to protect me. There's a lot
of evidence they had to shred there. I just killed three guys. I didn't
shock 'em with car batteries first."

	"They did that?"

	"They did lots worse than that," I said.

	"Wouldn't they... I mean, these guys were Al Qaeda, right? Wouldn't
they say it was okay what you did finding out about terrorists?"

	I nodded. "That's why they'll cover it up. They're going to cover
it all up. You know? It's not what just what I did. It's what a lot of guys
did. It's the usual stuff that happens in a war."

	"Yeah, but they were soldiers right? And terrorists?"

	"I don't know about that," I said. "In fact I'm damn sure most of
them were just guys that went around toting AK-47's everywhere. But
everyone in that country did that. They were so busy fighting each other
they almost had no time or energy for fighting us. Only we ended up with a
lot of prisoners. That was my job too, sorting prisoners and finding out
who to ask questions. It took all summer to sort them out, find out which
ones had a connection to Al Qaeda and which ones were Taliban and which
ones were just the private militia belonging to a warlord who didn't have
anything to do with either of them. You couldn't trust the interpreters to
tell the truth. And then... well, we had just too many prisoners. So
they've got to cover it up now."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Do you really want to know?"

	He nodded.

	"We put the prisoners in container trucks," I said. "Not me, I
don't mean I did, but the CO ordered it. American soldiers did it. A
thousand guys. Maybe. Wedged into four sealed container trucks. That's how
we got rid of them."

	He was frowning. He just didn't understand.

       "It was August," I said. "Hot in those trucks, real hot, like plus
one-hundred degrees. I remember the guys were crying out and yelling even
before the trucks started rolling, they couldn't breathe. I was out there
saying it too. They can't breathe, come on. I was pretending it was just a
way of transporting the guys somewhere else. How are we going to get those
men some ventilation, I said."

       "A couple of the soldiers walked along firing into the trucks. Air
holes. You heard the screams and then there was blood..." I shook my
head. "I knew. I was just pretending I didn't know what. They took the
trucks into the desert, a long drive. Just a few hours. And when they
opened the trucks up... They'd all died of the heat. That's how we got rid
of them. We had the Afghanis bury them all in a mass grave in a place
called Kunduz. So you see the officers there, and the CO, everybody,
they're responsible for killing a few hundred extraneous prisoners. They
can't let what I did come out or what they did might come out. They got to
cover everything up."

	Matthew blinked. He stared at me for some long moments and then he
crept in close into my arms. I held him tightly, my face in his soft dark
hair.

	Duncan was the pug faced kid, as it turned out. He was waiting with
Matthew when I picked him up after school Tuesday. He wasn't what I'd call
handsome like Matthew but he was cute in an Irish kind of a way that
probably wouldn't age well. He also didn't say a word. That was a teenaged
kid for you. He just scooted into the back seat and Matthew scooted into
the back seat with him instead of coming into the front. They traded silent
punches with each other, eyes locked.

	I took them home and let them kick their sneakers across the hall
and settle back.  They landed side by side, wrists touching, on the
loveseat. I was making pizza in the kitchen for the boys, the ubiquitous
teenaged fill-them-up food. They were in the breakfast room connecting
controllers and now their voices were going up to nearly shouting.

	"No way!"

	"Yes way! I'm going to own you! I'm going to own your ass!"

	I leaned in the door, "Language, boys."

	"What's wrong with him using words like that?" asked Matthew. He
was curious not truculent. "You use them."

	"Context." I said. "You don't use them at school in front of your
teachers. You don't use them when you're visiting him and his parents are
around. And he doesn't use them around me. At least, not at top volume."

	"You sure he's not a tight ass?" Duncan whispered when I had
stepped back into the kitchen.  At least he thought he was whispering. I
grinned.

	"Nah," said Matthew. "Currier is cool. He's like the coolest guy
you can think of. He is seriously good to me."

	Hero-worship again. I shook my head and started slicing pepperoni.

	They were hard at the game when the pizza came out, and Matthew was
getting smoked. That was only natural since it was Duncan's game they were
playing and Duncan had hours of practice as an advantage on Matthew. But
Matthew was playing with a kind of grim joy, slamming his character through
some kind of an assault course. The hot pizza broke it up. I left them to
demolish the thing and went upstairs.

	The kids didn't need me hovering. I got out the Farsi CD's and put
my headphones on.

	It was maybe half and hour after that, with me softly repeating
sentences, trying to relax my tongue into grace in a language that sounded
to me both nasal and fluid at once when I heard a creak on the stairs. One
of the boys was coming up. Since there was nothing much upstairs except my
study and my room I figured it was Matthew on his way up to talk to me. I
waited for him to come into the door.

	There was another sound, a creak in the hall but he didn't come
in. What was that all about? I didn't stop repeating sounds from the tape
but now I was listening hard. Matthew was lingering in the hall as if he
didn't know how to come in and ask me a question. Odd, I thought. Because I
didn't figure Matthew would be scared to ask me anything. But why else
would he be sneaking up the stairs so softly and lingering outside of my
room? All I knew was that he was standing just outside my door listening
and not making a sound at all.

	I turned the CD off but didn't take the headphones off. I kept
repeating sentences while I listened. Unless I was mistaken, Matthew had
tiptoed up the stairs to spy on me. It could be Duncan of course but I was
pretty sure it wasn't the both of them.

	After another half minute I heard Matthew tiptoe away. He took the
stairs not with his usual heedless clatter but just as quiet as before.

	A kid being sneaky usually means a kid up to mischief. I gave it
another few minutes before I pushed the headphones off and stood up. And
then I followed him down the stairs just as quietly. I've had a bit more
practice being covert than Matthew has, and besides I've observed which of
the stairs it is that creak. I didn't figure I'd catch the boys at anything
serious though. Sneaking brown sugar from the bag in the kitchen? No, he'd
be eating it openly right out of the bag with a spoon, and stammer an
apology when I pointed out I wouldn't want to use any more of that sugar
after his dirty spit had been in it. I had enough faith in Matthew's
intelligence that I didn't figure they'd be sneaking cigarettes in the
house.

	I didn't get much further than the foot of the stairs. The two boys
were in the breakfast room and I saw them there. They were on the loveseat,
locked. Duncan was on his back and Matthew was on the top and they were
doing sixty-nine. Just for a moment I froze, seeing Matthew's dark head
bobbing. Duncan gave a gasp. "It tickles!" he hissed in that whisper that
wasn't quite quiet enough to go unheard.

	I stepped back again. Well. All these weeks and weeks and Matthew
was too scared and squeamish to suck my cock and now he was going at Duncan
like he figured the boy had nectar in his balls. Yes, well again. But I
knew what the difference was. I didn't have to confront Matthew for him to
tell me. The difference was that he was in love with Duncan. You could see
it. Everything he did around the other boy his eyes were on the kid
hopeful. Yes, Matthew loved me too, in his own way, but he was a kid and it
was a kid his own age that he had gone for.

	I took the stairs quietly up again. I sat for awhile in the half
light of the setting sun in my room. I wasn't unhappy or hurt although I
felt strange inside. Duncan. Yeah. Damn, but I hoped he was a good kid. He
seemed to be. I'd break his balls if he broke Matthew's heart, I thought
fiercely. Not that you can do much really when there's a kid in love and
going through his first heartbreak. Maybe it wouldn't come to that, maybe
not for a few months. In the meantime...

	Well, I'd introduced Matthew to sex, so it would be hypocritical to
come down disapproving wouldn't it? But it occurred to me I had better give
him a lecture all about safe sex and a whole raft of other things that he
needed to learn. I was smiling wryly to myself. New dimensions. Being a
kid's godfather meant learning a lot for me too.

End of story by Ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca