By Jack Llawayllynn
Chapter 9: Twisted Games
Trish wasn't sure why she let Mike abuse her. She had bruises on her neck, her wrists, her hips. Sometimes she would look up into his eyes as he fucked her and she would see nothingness, just blank steel, cold metal. His mouth always seemed to be twisted into an evil sneer, mocking her, his hands never gentle. Still she went to him, or waited for him to come to her. Still she wanted him. He pounded out the pain in her heart; he made her forget the inner pain by inflicting outer pain, waves upon waves of it, drowning the screams from her heart. He made her forget that she had ever loved Matt, that she still loved Matt and missed him every waking moment, every moment but those spent in Mike's cruel hands. He left her drained, battered, too tired to weep over things lost. Trish needed Mike to abuse her, use her, treat her like nothing more than flesh to appease his beastly desires. She craved a taste of his depravity. She yearned for his cold soul. He had told her to wait in her apartment for him tonight and so wait she did...wait and anticipate.
He finally showed up at two in the morning, drunk and wrapped in leather. Trish had smoked a joint and was dozing off on the couch when he pounded on her door. She jumped up and opened the door quickly, a little fearful to leave him standing for more than a moment. He stepped in and glared down at her, his long fingers pushed the door closed with a click. Trish could see that he was more deeply troubled then usual, angrier, brimming with violence. She bit her lip fearfully and took a step back. He followed, still glaring. Again she retreated, thinking that maybe this time she should dive for the phone and hit the speed-dial for 911. As if reading her thoughts he reached out and snagged her arm in a painfully tight grip.
"Where are you going?" he hissed, his face close to hers, the smell of liquor strong on his breath.
"N...nowhere." Trish trembled. He looked like a wolf, his white teeth flashing in that sneer that she had come to both dread and anticipate.
"You looked stoned Trish. Are you stoned?" he asked, his head tilted, studying her eyes. She nodded silently, not sure if he would become angrier over her drug use but he just glanced over at the remains of her joint in the ashtray, then back to her. "I think we'll play a new game tonight," he said, pulling her in close and engulfing her in his embrace. It was not an affectionate hug, it was a restraining grip that held her prisoner.
"What game is that?" she asked, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to struggle. The smell of him surrounded her, swirled her senses, and made her dizzy. She inhaled deeply, letting his scent intoxicate her. His mouth quirked up slightly as he watched desire rise in her expression, saw her lids lower, her lips part, her tongue flick out and touch her bottom lip.
"You are going to call Matt, tell him you're in trouble, tell him you need him."
"Why? What are you going to do?" Suddenly she was afraid for Matt.
"I'm going to fuck you." His words were flat but his eyes blazed suddenly like she'd never seen them do before. There was fire there, raging behind the cold steel grey. Trish gasped but he blinked and the fire was gone, banked away behind his usual ice.
"You want him to come in and catch us, don't you?" Trish asked quietly.
"That's the picture, sweets. You have a problem with that? I thought you wanted revenge but what good does fucking me do if Matt doesn't know about it, huh?" His hands rubbed up and down her arms, harshly.
"I'm not real sure about this Mike." She pulled back but he did not release her.
"I'm not asking you to do this, I'm telling you to." His hands tightened on her upper arms and he gave her one hard, neck snapping shake. He leaned forward, his face in hers again, his lips pulled back in a snarl. "You will call him."
"Alright," she breathed. He released her. Trish went to the phone and dialed Matt's number. It rang four times before he picked up. "Hello?" Matt's voice answered sleepily down the line.
"Matt? It's me, Trish. I...I'm in trouble. Could you come over?"
"Trish? What kind of trouble? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strengthening as he woke and concern sharpening his tone.
"I'm okay...ow!" Trish gasped as Sin suddenly dug his fingers into the back of her neck, squeezing the tender muscles. "Please come over," she said, whimpering through the pain.
"Trish? What's going on?" Matt demanded.
"I..." Trish cringed again as Sin tightened his fingers more. "I..." she began again but the pain became so intense that she gasped.
"Trish? Trish? Are you there?" Matt yelled down the line.
Trish tried to catch her breath but Sin grabbed the phone from her and slammed it down on the hook.
Trish nodded dumbly and rubbed her punished neck. She watched as he went to the front door and opened it, leaving it only slightly ajar.
"Get up," he said as he pulled her up off the couch. She didn't fight him as he led her to the bedroom. "Strip."
"It'll take him a little while to get here," she said even as she pulled her shirt over her head.
"I know. I want you covered in sweat by then." He watched her as she shed her clothes then he undressed himself. He threw her onto the bed and lay over her. Suddenly she could envision Matt's face, imagine what he might feel.
"I can't do this," Trish said, trying to wriggle out from under him.
"Be still!" he hissed. When she stilled he kissed her, tenderly, his tongue tracing her lips. She looked up at him wide-eyed, her head spinning a little from the marijuana she had smoked and even more with confusion. He had never kissed her so gently before. Again he kissed her, his hand tracing a light pattern on her neck. Reaching back he pulled the elastic band from his hair, letting it fall down into her face. She had never seen him with his hair down. It cascaded around his face into hers, the scent of leather and salt joined by the sweet muskiness of a man's shampoo. Trish reached up and wrapped her fingers in it, fascinated. He let her bring it to her nose, scenting, to her lips, feeling the silkiness. He dipped his head and nibbled her neck while she played in his hair. Slowly he worked his way down to her breast, suckling first one pink nipple, then the other. She sighed deeply. He smiled to himself. Soon, if he had his way, she would forget that Matt was on his way. He worked his way back up, plunged his tongue into her mouth, his fingers soft on her flesh, his hips rubbing very gently, circling, teasing. She arched toward him but he did not try to enter her. Instead he teased and kissed, rubbed and caressed.
"Trish," he said softly against her ear then flicked his tongue inside. He traced her lips with his fingertips and watched them fall open. He rolled a nipple between his fingers and growled huskily. Her eyes opened lazily and he leaned over her, letting her see his eyes, using his skills as a charmer to fake emotions for her, faking warmth, faking feeling, faking lust. She believed what she saw, her gaze darkening hungrily.
Trish lost herself in his gaze, seeing desire, seeing need, seeing...love? Could this dark man love? Was it in his soul, the ability to love or was she just so stoned that she was imagining it all? She stared up at him searching, and he convinced her, convinced her that what she saw real. For this once she could see it, the real man inside. He was lost in his anger but she knew she could find him, could save him from the hate, the bitterness, save him from himself. She reached for him, wanting to pull his soul into hers, wanting to feel his body, wanting to feel him possess her deeply. Wanting to heal him with her body. She spread her thighs and invited him in. He accepted, sliding into her wet passage slowly, tenderly, not harshly like he usually did. She wrapped her arms around him, her hips rising to meet his. He moved so slowly, so tenderly, taking his time, burning up time, waiting, listening, anticipating. He stroked her and pleased her and distracted her to the best of his vast abilities.
"Trish," he growled, his eyes closing, opening to stare down at her. She groaned. He quickened his pace but kept it sweet, tantalizing. Trish tangled a hand in his hair and pulled him down for a deep kiss. He heard the hesitate tapping at the open front door but she didn't. He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, nipped her lightly then licked her ear. He plunged his tongue in her ear, her face turned on the pillow, and he hoped she would not hear Matt's entrance. Trish purred under Sin as he continued to nibble around her ear, his hands roaming. The front door opened and closed with a nearly silent click. Sin quickened his thrusts more, feeling Trish begin to tighten under him. He rose up, pulled her thighs up around his waist and drove into her, Trish meeting him thrust for thrust, her eyes tightly closed, her lips moist and parted.
Matt stopped in the doorway to the bedroom and took in the scene silently. He could tell that Sin had been waiting for him because Sin's smile was crooked, cruel as he stared directly at Matt. Trish was lost in her lustful drugged haze, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Matt knew because he had seen her look like that any number of times. Her legs were wrapped around Sin's hips, her arms stretched over her head, her face to the side, mouth open and wanton. Sin continued to thrust, his smile never slipping, his eyes never wavering from Matt's face. Matt felt sick. He turned and left quietly, hearing Trish gasp and moan and call Sin's name in the bedroom as he left. She never even knew Matt had been there.
As soon as Matt had turned away Sin felt himself rushing to a climax. The revenge had tasted sweet, the look of shock, horror, anger and pain on Matt's face had been satisfying. Sin clenched his teeth and leaned forward over Trish's body as he emptied himself deep inside her. He was dimly aware of her own climax, of her body clenching under him. He threw his head back and began to laugh, feeling evilly exhilarated. Trish's eyes snapped open to stare at him incredulously.
"Don't worry baby," he said to her, his eyes shining with a mirth that seemed sharp and edgy, "I'm only laughing because that was so damn good. About the best sex I've ever had with a woman."
She didn't hear the true meaning behind the comment, she heard only what she wanted to, that she had been the best for him. She smiled back, a little shakily. It had definitely been good for her but his laughter had seemed so...wicked. "We finished a little early didn't we?" she asked.
"Why do you say that?"
"Matt never came."
"Shows he doesn't really care for you though doesn't it? Oh well, the sex was too good to have it interrupted anyway." Her eyes flashed with pain but Sin quickly leaned in and kissed her soundly. "You're so sweet, like strawberry ice-cream," he said, feeling generous and playful.
"Am I?" she asked, diverted.
"Oh yes. I wish it could be like that every night." His eyes took on an unfocused look and she tilted her head.
"It could be," she said suggestively. "If you let go of your anger, your hate, your violence."
"Ah, but you like it when I'm violent. I've seen the way you look at me, the fear that rocks your soul while your cunt clamps down and your body shutters. Would you give that up just to have me give you a tame little fuck every night?"
Trish thought about it for a moment. He was right, she liked the abuse, but only because it helped her to forget about Matt. If she weren't feeling the pain of rejection and abandonment then she wouldn't need the violence. If she could fall in love with someone else she would forget Matt entirely. But dare she hope that she find the heart in a man like Mike? Dare she hope that she could possess this man, let him fill the hole in her heart left by Matt? She looked up at him, studied the dark, finely shaped brows, the long straight nose, the squared jaw, the thin lips that could kiss so softly, the sharp white teeth that bit so harshly. He was definitely a handsome man, a darkly alluring demon. Suddenly she realized that she did want him, wanted to possess him, to own him, to claim him as her own. Not because she loved him though. She didn't. No, she just wanted to chain him somehow, to show him off to her friends, keep him and wear him like a black diamond.
"Well?" he asked, smiling crookedly.
"Can I introduce you to my friends?" she asked.
Sin shifted and rose. He knew what was going on in her head. He had seen it written in her eyes, an open book. "Sure, why not?"
"Yes." He pulled on his underwear and jeans and went to raid her refrigerator, thinking all the while that Matt must be having one hell of a fit right about then.
* * * *
Matt was raving. He stalked the streets cursing. Drunks and homeless people staggered out of his way quickly. Matt kicked at a rat that scurried across his path and picked up a glass bottle and shattered it after missing the rat. He knew that Sin had set that scene up. He knew Sin had made Trish call him. Hell, if he had thought that Sin was using her against her will he would have killed him but no, Trish was enjoying herself thoroughly. Shit, he wasn't blind, he'd seen the bruises on her neck, her arms. They stood out like ink on her smooth white flesh. He knew Sin was abusing her but he also knew that Trish was letting him do it. Probably encouraging him to do it. Matt cursed again and kicked a trash can over. He wanted to kill something.
A shape loomed up in front of him under the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. Matt gritted his teeth, balled up his fist and hoped the guy tried to rob him. He would love an excuse to do someone bodily harm. Matt strode forward and the shape seemed to shrink back, waver, stayed. As Matt neared he scowled deeper. Hell, it was only some street kid, a runaway probably, living in alleys and eating out of garbage cans.
"Hey mister, you got a dollar?" the kid asked.
Matt stopped and stared down at the boy. He was pale, dark rings around his eyes, a ridiculously scraggly goatee on his chin, a baseball cap turned around backwards on his head. His clothes were dirty and he smelled of a gutter. "How old are you?" Matt demanded.
"Sixteen," the boy answered, shifting nervously.
"Bullshit!" Matt barked and the kid's eyes narrowed.
"I swear on my dear ole mommy's upcoming grave, the bitch that she is," the kid sneered.
"What do you want a dollar for?"
"I'm trying to save up enough for a snort," the kid said, giving Matt a cocky glare.
Matt eyed him up and down. Might be decent under that dirt, he thought. "You ever whore yourself out for that shit?"
The kid scowled, spit on the ground and shifted. "A coupla times."
"Tell you what, you come to my place, bathe, stay the night and I'll give you a hundred dollars tomorrow."
"Fuck you. You give it to me now."
"You take a bath, and then I'll give it to you."
"You'll just steal it back. I know how you creeps work. You'll get me into your place, take what you want, beat the hell out of me and call the cops, tell them I was trying to break in or something." The kid took a step back.
Matt glanced up. There was a patrol car turning onto the narrow lane. "There's a copper now. How bout I flag him down and say that you tried to pick my pocket?" He saw the kid start to turn to run and Matt reached out a hand and snagged it in the hood of the kid's sweat shirt. The kid jerked to a halt, struggling and choking. "Let me go!" he yelled, terrified.
The cop car pulled along the curb and a cop leaned out the window. "You got trouble with that kid?"
"Yeah, he's my nephew. He's supposed to be staying with me while his parents are over seas but he took off two days ago when I told him I wasn't going to let him go to some party. I just found him." Matt grinned pleasantly at the officer. The kid quit struggling and looked at Matt in stunned surprise. Matt could feel him trembling though and realized he was much more afraid of the cop than he was of Matt.
"Need help getting him home?"
"God yes! It would be hell for me to drag him all the way back to the apartment. I've been looking for him for forty-eight hours and I'm exhausted. Could you give us a ride?" Matt smiled his best businesslike smile. "I work for Silverman and Beck, you might know them."
"Yeah, I know Beck. We catch the bad guys and he gets them set loose." The cop frowned and glared at Matt.
"I know it seems that way but Beck's only doing his job. Besides, I work for Silverman and he's in business law, not criminal law."
"Well, I'm not supposed to do this but I'll give you a lift. Climb in the back." The cop hooked a thumb toward the back seat and Matt climbed in, pushing the kid ahead of him, his hand still tightly wound in the kid's shirt. The boy kept his mouth firmly shut, his eyes constantly flickering from Matt to the back of the cop's head. Matt tried to keep his head turned away, avoiding the stench of him.
"Thanks," Matt said as they pulled up in front of his apartment building. "I won't let him run off again. I've hired a baby-sitter. She used to be a prison guard."
"That ought to do it," the cop laughed and waved. Matt stood on the pavement and watched the car disappear, his had still firmly wrapped in the kid's hood.
"You're a slick fuck aren't you?" the kid asked sarcastically.
"You got a name?" Matt asked as he pulled the boy into the building.
"Drift? What the hell kind of name is that?" Matt pushed the kid into the elevator and pushed the button. The doors slid shut and Matt was nearly overcome by the stench that rose from the boy's clothes.
"It's a street name. You know, Drift, like as in snow, and like as is in don't stay in one place too long."
"You smell like shit Drift," Matt complained.
"Fuck you dude."
Matt smiled evilly. "Watch what you say. I'm not in a good mood. I'm not having a good night."
Drift stood silently. The doors opened and Matt dragged him down the hall, produced his keys and handed them to Drift. "Open the door," he commanded, still keeping a firm hold. Drift opened the door, his hand shaking a little. Matt pushed him inside, closed the door, released his grip and slid the newly installed bolt into place, then chained the door and locked it. He turned to grin at Drift who stood unsurely before him.
"Bathroom is that way," Matt said pointing. He followed Drift down the hall and into the bathroom. "Strip."
"What? With you standing there?" Drift looked uneasy, frightened.
"Strip." Matt closed the door and leaned against it. His eyes were hard, the anger was still in his soul. He could still see Sin driving deep between Trish's soft thighs, still see her laying there, languid, liquid. Bitch, he thought. Then, son of a bitch, he thought of Sin.
Drift slowly began to remove his clothes. Layer after layer of filthy cloth were peeled away and formed a growing mountain on the floor. Finally he was down to a pair of cut-off jogging pants and nothing more.
"All of it." Matt nodded towards the shorts. Drift dropped them reluctantly. Matt eyed the kid. Half of his body was covered in tattoos. "Bit young for those aren't you?"
"This dude from Chains told me where I could get them," Drift said, standing a little hunched down in the shoulders.
Matt nodded toward the tub. "Shower."
Drift turned and climbed in. He started to close the curtain but Matt shook his head. Matt watched as the boy began to soap up. Matt growled a little as he felt his dick hardened. He stepped beside the tub, the mist dampening his clothes, and took the soap from the kid, running his hands all over the youthful body, the hard almost thin chest, the small tight buttocks, the soft limp penis. Drift allowed Matt to turn him, soap him up, touch him, but his eyes were frightened and wary. "You'll get your money," Matt assured him. Matt tossed the soap aside and reached for the shampoo. Drift's hair was terribly matted and Matt found it impossible to get the dirty snarls loose. "This has to go." Matt regretted it because under its coating of dirt was a pale corn-silk yellow.
"What? No way!" Drift backed up, his hands before him.
"It's not that long. It'll grow back. I'll throw in another fifty bucks if you let me cut it."
"Done." Matt reached over and turned the water off. He handed Drift a towel as he stepped out. "Come into the kitchen."
Matt seated Drift on a stool in the kitchen and went to work with a pair of scissors. He chopped at the mats not caring what the end result was. Finally he had them all cut out but in the process he discovered lice. "Oh fuck!" Matt spat angrily.
Drift shrugged. "Comes with the territory dude. Can't sleep in an alley and not get lice."
Matt went to the bathroom, got out his electric razor and took it to the kitchen. Before Drift could protest Matt shaved a great swath of hair from the side of his head. "Hold still or I'll beat the shit out of you," Matt warned when Drift started to jump down off the stool. "Don't push your luck with me kid. I won't kill you but I'll sure make you wish you were dead."
Matt shaved him utterly bald then ran a hand over the smooth flesh. "Much better, much cleaner."
Drift groaned, touching his head with his fingers.
"It actually looks really good," Matt said, standing back and admiring his handiwork. "You've got a nicely shaped head. Go have it tattooed and you'll love it."
Drift stopped rubbing his head and raised a brow. "That's a good idea!"
"Yeah, and you won't get lice. Go rinse off in the shower again, you have cut hair on your shoulders." Matt let him go alone. Drift returned a few minutes later, a towel around his waist, a hand rubbing back and forth on his skull.
"You're right, it looks cool. I'll get a tat or two on it."
Matt stood and looked at him a moment. The kid was good looking, cut and trim like young men are. His face was classically squared, square jaw, square chin, strong brow. His lips full, his nose blunt, his eyes a dark hazel. Drift noted Matt's slow appraisal and backed up quickly. "I'm not so sure about this dude," Drift said shakily.
"How old are you really?" Matt asked, advancing.
"I told you, I'm sixteen."
"Good." Matt backed him down the hall, into the bedroom. Drift glanced around, realized what had happened and started to bolt passed Matt through the door. Matt blocked the doorway and grinned. "Scared?"
"Uh-huh. Look over there in that drawer by the bed. There's a bottle of whiskey. Drink some."
Drift dove for the drawer, tore it open, unscrewed the cap from the bottle and turned it up. Matt closed the door and leaned against the sill, watching him. Matt let the kid put a good dent in the liquor before crossing the room and taking the bottle away from him. He took a few good swallows himself before setting the bottle aside. "Time's up," he said, feeling suddenly cold and cruel inside.
Drift sighed and pulled the towel away and knelt over the bed, offering his ass to Matt. Matt laughed. "It isn't going to be that easy kid."
Drift looked quickly over his shoulder. "What?"
Matt reached for him, turned Drift to face him and leaned in close to his face. "Have you ever been tied up?"
"Oh hell no, you ain't tying me up!" Drift shook his head vehemently. Matt just turned away, crossed to the closet and brought forth a handful of neckties. Drift lunged for the door again. Matt tackled him hard. They rolled onto the floor, Drift kicking and biting. Matt succeeded in getting one of the boy's hands up behind his back, lost his grip and had to struggle again to get it back. Matt's dick sprang up harder than ever, the fight arousing him. Drift was cussing him, biting every chance he got. Matt managed to get the other hand behind the boy's back. He put a knee in between Drift's shoulder blades and pressed down hard. Drift cried out in pain. Matt put more pressure on the knee and got a tie wrapped around Drift's wrists and pulled it tight, then knotted it.
"I could have you arrested for this," Drift gasped out, his voice breaking on a sob.
"Maybe," Matt conceded then wrapped a tie around Drift's head to gag him and tied it tight. Drift shook his head frantically, gnashing his teeth on the material. Matt used two ties, one on top of the other to blindfold him then picked him up and tossed him onto the bed. Drift was mumbling through the gag, struggling and kicking. Matt caught one ankle and tied it to the foot of the bed. He stood over the kid and watched him writhe in panic. Matt rubbed himself through his jeans. He wished Drift had one of those tattoos on his ass. That would have been nice. Too bad he didn't. Finally Matt tired of watching the kid thrash and stripped off his clothes. He used the trailing ends of the ties to pull Drift's head back. He bit the kid on the shoulder lightly and pressed himself against the boy's buttocks. Drift stilled, panting around the gag. Suddenly he sobbed, then again. Matt leaned around to look at his face. A small amount of moisture seeped from under the blindfold.
"Shit!" Matt cursed and released the hold he had on the kid. What the hell was he doing? This wasn't like him at all. He wasn't like Sin and didn't want to be like him either. Hell, the poor kid was terrified. Drift curled up, his hands bound behind him, his body wracked with sobs. Matt stood and walked away. He retrieved the liquor bottle and turned it up. After a few moments Drift stopped sobbing but his body still shivered from time to time. Still though Matt did not release him from his bonds. After several long minutes Matt set the bottle down again and went to sit on the bed by the kid, his hand rubbing the freshly shaven scalp. Drift sniffled a little.
"Shhh," Matt soothed. He leaned in and kissed the boy's head, his cheek, his neck. Slowly he ran a hand over shoulder, back, buttock, thigh. Drift lay rigid with tension, his dick small and limp, his jaws working as he chewed at the gag. Matt licked his earlobe, his chin, his chest. He tickled his fingers over the soft cock, teased it a little, bit down gently over the heaving ribs. Slowly the kid began to relax, but still he was soft. Matt ran a hand down between his thighs, cupped the firm balls, caressed and stroked. He brought his hand back up and grasped Drift's dick again, feeling it begin to harden just a little. He fondled it until it began to lengthen against his palm, impressed with its growing size. Shifting he grasped the trailing ends of the ties again and pulled Drift's head back, this time gently, and kissed the exposed throat, dug his teeth in just enough to ache but not enough to truly hurt. Drift relaxed more, his head falling back on its own.
Matt released him and moved away to find some lubricant and apply it to himself. Slowly he lay down beside Drift and positioned him on his side. Matt wrapped an arm around the boy and pulled him close, spooning. Matt grasped the kid's dick again, stroked, pulled, and squeezed. Drift made a sound in his throat, half moan, half fearful plea. Matt knew that Drift was feeling pleasure but more so he was feeling fear. Matt continued to rub, kissing a cool shoulder, tasting the back of Drift's neck. Finally he shifted, eased his dick between the firm ass cheeks and pushed Drift's thigh forward and to the side for better access. Drift didn't fight him but he did sob again, deep in his chest. Matt continued to stroke him, kept the boy's dick hard as he slowly pressed himself into the tight tunnel of Drift's ass. Matt had thought that Estaban was a tight squeeze but he was unprepared for this. This hurt. This hurt bad. No, it hurt good. It hurt wonderfully. Drift's ass was clenching him with small involuntary spasms. Drift made a strangled moaning sound but did not fight it. Matt groaned, teeth clenched, his hand falling still. Drift lay like a statue, cold, hard as marble throughout his body. Forcing himself back from the edge Matt again began to stroke Drift's dick. Laying still himself Matt worked on bringing Drift to a climax. It took a long time, the kid was frightened and obviously in pain. Matt loved the feeling of it though, pulling ecstasy from a terrified kid all the while with his dick buried in the boy's sweet tight ass. Finally Drift came, twitching in his bondage and Matt moved, pushing deeper, pulling back very slowly, aware of Drift's lingering fear. Matt was able to come quickly. He held the boy's body close as he emptied himself in the vice of Drift's ass, pressing his chin down over Drift's shoulder, half lying over his back. Sated, Matt rolled away finally and went to shower. He didn't untie Drift.
When Matt returned the kid was crying again. Matt sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his head. "I threw your clothes in the washer. I'm going to untie you, let you go take another shower if you like and borrow some of my jeans. The only thing I require is that you promise not to try to leave until tomorrow. Understand?"
Drift nodded weakly, his body shivering.
"Promise?" Again the nod. Matt opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a pocket knife from the back corner. He cut Drift's ankle loose first, then the gag. He hesitated strangely over the blindfold then cut it loose too. Drift kept his eyes tightly closed. Matt cut his hands free, folded the knife and put it in his pocket. He rubbed a hand over the bare head again then stood and went into the kitchen, leaving the kid curled up on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, sobbing.
Matt took a fresh bottle of whiskey into the living room and listened until he finally heard the boy stir and then the sound of the shower running again. After a very long time Drift crept into the living room in a pair of Matt's jeans that hung from his hips and dragged the floor under his feet. He flopped into a chair, winced, and kept his head lowered.
"You lied didn't you?" Matt asked.
"No, I really am sixteen," the kid mumbled.
"That's not what I meant. You've never done that before have you?"
Drift shook his head, his cheeks turning pink. "Not with a guy, no. I mean I have with women. For money. There's this old lady that give me twenty dollars to fuck her sometimes. It's really gross but if I just imagine someone else I can get through it." Drift's eyes were glued to the floor.
"So, you're that hard up for a fix huh?" Matt asked, lighting a cigarette and tossing the pack and lighter to the floor in front of Drift's feet. Drift nodded glumly as he picked up the pack. His hand shook as he lit up.
Matt got up and Drift drew back but Matt didn't go near him. Instead he went to the bedroom, pulled his lockbox out from under his bed and fished out some cash before replacing the box. He counted out three hundred dollars, rolled it up, put an elastic band around it and went back to the living room. Drift had gotten up long enough to steal Matt's bottle of whiskey and was pouring it down his throat. "Easy on that kid," Matt said as he tossed the money at Drift's feet. "I don't want you puking everywhere tonight."
Drift bent, picked up the roll of money, unwrapped it, thumbed through it and then started to put it in his pocket then seemed to realize he wasn't wearing his own pants. Finally he shrugged and shoved it in the pocket anyway. "I know I promised not to leave but I really want to go."
"Really needing your fix kid? Okay, fine, just wait until your clothes are dry."
"Alright, I can wait that long. I think I'll go tomorrow and get a tattoo on my head. If I can find Sin he can call Tecko and tell him to see me."
"What did you say?" Matt ground out between clenched teeth.
Drift looked up at him for the first time since Matt had released him from the ties, his eyes full of fear once more. "I...I said I'm going to get a tat on my head."
"After that! What did you say after that?"
"I said I'd get Tecko to do it if I can find Sin to call him for me." Drift's eyes were large, the fear shining through like glitter.
"He...he's tall, has long black hair, wears a leather jacket." Drift cowered back in his chair as Matt advanced on him. Matt put a hand on either arm of the chair and leaned down into Drift's face.
"Has he ever touched you? Ever? Even kissed you?" Matt demanded, seeing red, boiling with fury, thinking only that it seemed he must share everything with Sin; Trish, Estaban, and now maybe even this...what he had convinced himself was a basic innocent, something for himself that Sin hadn't touched, or had he?
"No! He's not like that! He's...he's just a friend. I mean I've met him. He hooked me up with Tecko, that's all. I swear!"
Matt showed Drift his teeth, snarling. "Where did you meet him?"
"A bar. A bar on the south side. He was with Chains. We talked after the show. I've seen `em a coupla times. He calls Tecko and lets him know where to meet me. Tecko's an independent see, he don't have no shop or nothin'. He carries his tat gun in a gym bag." Drift leaned back as far as he could, his eyes shifting from the intensity of Matt's stare.
"If you ever let Sin touch you and I hear of it I will hunt you down and kill you, understand?" Matt asked in a grave voice. Drift nodded mutely. "You are mine Drift. You need money you come to me. You don't go to anyone else. Especially Michael Synn." Suddenly Matt stood. "I'll put your clothes in the dryer." He seethed as he loaded the dryer and turned it on. Everywhere he went, everything he did, it always came back to Sin. Always.