A/N: I know. I know. I should be working on On The Roof, not posting another No Night Is Too Long story. This story came to me one morning and I couldn't stop myself. It's unbeta'ed. All errors are my own.
The story is mine. The characters are not.
Pretty boy, Tim, is working the streets as a rent-boy. Ivo wants (no needs) to save him. Is it possible?
Chapter 1 - Making Quota
It had been a difficult day. I'm not using that as an excuse, but it explained the need to drown my sorrows.
Today, the fifteenth of September, marked the first anniversary of Isabel's death. I missed my twin sister terribly. She'd always been my sounding board, someone I could talk to when life seemed unbearable. I drove to the cemetery early in the morning with a bouquet of yellow tulips. I knew she couldn't give me any answers, but she would listen. It was comforting to be near her again and I imagined that she would look down on my miserable life, take pity and help me. It had rained all night and as I pulled out of my parking spot, my car got stuck in the mud. I managed to push the car out, but I missed my first lecture because I had to go back to the flat to change out of my wet and muddy clothes.
The head of the department had called me in and blasted me for being late and for some complaint he'd received from a parent of one of my students. The student had told his parents that the reason he was failing was because I had been unfair in my assessment of his project. He claimed that I had it out for him.
It has been one month, 2 days and fourteen hours since Ewan left me for a younger man. We'd been together for over a year. I remembered his angry face as I stared at my own in the mirror of the men's restroom at the school. His hurtful words resounded in my mind and a stabbing pain struck my heart making me bend over in agony.
To top it all off, to complete this disastrous day, Tilda McFadden had made a pass at me after class. I was not in the mood to have some first-year female drooling all over me. I pushed her away when she tried to press herself against me and she fell back, hitting her head against the wall. She screamed and threatened to report me for sexual harassment. I finally calmed her down by taking her for tea and scones at the Lemondrop Tea Shoppe.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I downed my third shot of whiskey at the bar of the local pub. Even though the pub was walking distance from my flat, I hadn't dropped by in months. The barman was new and I wondered briefly what had happened to the old one.
"Bad day?" he asked. I looked up at him. His large brown eyes were filled with concern, but I knew this was just an act. He really didn't care. It was his job. It brought him better tips.
Afraid to answer aloud for fear of breaking down, I simply gave him a weak smile. He held up the bottle and quirked an eyebrow. I nodded and watched as he poured the whiskey into my shot glass.
"Yeah, I get it. No worries, though, mate. Things will look better after a nice kip tonight." He spoke with authority, an expert in the field of "drinking away your sorrows".
"If you want to talk about it…," He left the sentence hang there and waited a moment to see if I would respond, but I couldn't even look at him again. I heard his footsteps as he walked down to another customer.
Twirling the shot glass in my hand, I watched the liquid swirl into a golden blur. My mind was already numb. I downed it in one gulp and relished the burn in my throat.
A man sitting alone at a table was watching me as he spoke into his phone. He nodded at me when he saw me looking at him.
I probably wouldn't have noticed the young boy that walked in about then if the barman hadn't yelled for him to get out.
"I don't need you bothering my customers!"
"Easy, mate. I'm meeting a bloke for a job interview," the boy shot back.
"A job interview," the barman repeated incredulously.
"Yeah. Honest."
"You're lying! Piss off!"
His eyes met mine. Grinning, he quickly made his way around the tables. He hopped on the stool next to mine, wrapping his long jean-clad legs around its column.
"Hiya," he greeted my surprised expression. "I'm ready for my interview, sir."
The barman raised his brows, suspiciously.
"You know him?" he asked me.
After hesitating for only a second, I nodded. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was his smile. Although it was quite cold outside, he wore no coat. His jumper was tattered, the elbows worn down to threads, but he smelled clean. His long, dark hair brushed the top of his bony shoulders as he turned his head to face me. His face was flushed from the cold and his rosy cheeks were more pronounced with skin so pale it seemed translucent. He had a dimple in his chin and I resisted the urge to touch it. I couldn't take my eyes off of his cherry lips and when he noticed that I was staring, he graced me with a sweet smile and the most perfect white teeth I'd ever seen. His green eyes crinkled with mischief. Pretty. That's what he was. He was a pretty boy. There was no other way to describe him.
I had to admit. This was a nice distraction. I returned the smile, a genuine one, the first one of the day for me.
"Buy me a drink?" he asked boldly.
I lifted my hand to call the barman over. "What do you want?" I asked him.
"The same thing you want," he answered with a smirk. I stopped breathing for a second. Was he coming on to me? That would be nice. No, I was misreading this. It was the alcohol coursing through my veins, I decided.
"Is whiskey okay?"
"Perfect." He placed his forearms on the bar and leaned forward, expectantly.
The barman came over with a frown.
"Two whiskeys." I ordered.
"I need to see ID for him," the barman replied, pointing at the boy with his chin as he wiped the bar in front of us with a rag.
The boy tilted his head and patted his pockets. Mock disappointment laced his voice as he said, "Must have left it at home. I'm eighteen, though."
"Sorry. It's the law, lads." He took the bottle and poured me another drink. "I'm afraid that's the last one for you, mate."
"I'll have a Coca Cola then," the boy pouted.
After he brought him his drink, I turned and asked, "Who are you?"
"Name's Tim. Tim Cornish," he answered brightly. He held out his hand and I took it. It was surprisingly soft and warm. The hairs on my arms stood up as if I'd been jolted with a mild electric shock and I shivered.
"Ivo. Ivo Steadman," I told him pulling my hand away.
"Nice to meet you, Ivo." He looked around to see if the barman was watching and then reached for my drink. He poured half of it into his glass and chugged it down. "Twenty quid for a blow. Fifty for a fuck."
Stunned, I must have sat there for a full minute before replying. "What?"
"We can go to the loo, but last time the arsehole caught me in there with another bloke and threw us out. I don't want to get you kicked out. We can do it round back. It's dark enough now and no one will see us," he offered with sincerity and a wink.
He was a rent-boy? The barman's reaction to his presence was making sense now. It wasn't as if I'd never been propositioned before and I'd picked up a few guys at clubs in the past, but this was totally unexpected. I was too drunk to respond properly. I wasn't even sure I wanted to tell him to get lost. Was my day getting better or worse? I couldn't tell anymore.
"I-I think you must have me mistaken for someone else," I stammered looking down at my glass.
He placed a long elegant forefinger on the back of my hand and stroked it lightly. "Oh, I don't think I'm mistaken." He spoke with the confidence of a professional, a professional hunter who knew his prey well.
"Are you really eighteen?" I asked.
"Sure," he replied placing his hand on my thigh. Looking up and around before proceeding, he slid it up to my crotch and squeezed gently.
The move surprised me and I jumped off of the stool in shock. I downed the rest of my drink quickly. "I need to go. It was nice meeting you."
"Wait. I'll walk with you," he offered stepping down and following close behind as I stumbled to the door. The floor seemed to shift as I reached for the door and I almost fell forward. Tim grabbed me by the waist and pulled me upright. "Here. Let me help you."
Holding me firmly by the elbow, he led me outside. "So, where are we going?"
"We aren't going anywhere. I'mgoing home." I said pulling my arm away. I staggered back a couple of steps.
"Oh, come on," he practically begged. Tears welled in his eyes. I had to give it to him. He was good. "Truth is I'm behind today. I need twenty quid to make my quota."
"You have a quota?" I laughed. "I don't believe you."
"He'll beat me if I don't turn all of it in." He murmured this so softly I thought I dreamed it up.
I shook my head and turned to walk off, but he ran in front of me. He pulled up the hem of his jumper, "Look."
I stopped short. My eyes were wide as I saw the bruises along the ribs on his pathetically thin torso. Long red scratches, small ragged scars and what looked like cigarette burns marred the areas around his nipples and collarbone. Instinctively, I reached out and touched one of the burn marks.
"Who did this to you?" I asked, horrified.
He pulled his jumper down. "He did. It doesn't matter. I just need to make my quota."
I stood there staring into his eyes for several long moments. He shuffled his feet. "Please," he whispered.
Leaning against a streetlamp for support, I reached into my pocket for my wallet. I pulled out a twenty and tried to hand it over to him.
"No," he said shaking his head, "I have to earn it. He's watching."
"Wher…," I tried turning my head, but Tim grabbed me around the neck and pulled me into a kiss.
"Don't look," he mumbled into my mouth. He took my hand and dragged me behind a dumpster in the alley. Unzipping my pants with lightning speed, he was on his knees in front of me before I could stop him. I groaned as his hot talented mouth enveloped my soft dick.
"Oh gawd!" I gasped. This is what I needed. Release. Closing my eyes, I felt my body spinning out of control. It wasn't long before I felt myself give in and come forcefully down his throat. My knees nearly buckled and he had to hold me steady as he stood.
Kissing me gently on the lips, he whispered, "Thank you."
My heart and head were pounding. I took deep breaths as I handed him his money. He helped me zip up my pants and then walked with me back to the sidewalk.
"Do you need me to help you get home?" he asked. His eyes showed so much sincerity. It had to be real. He already had his money.
I shook my head and stared at him. He was so pretty. He didn't need to do this for a living. I wanted to tell him to come home with me. I would take care of him. I would never hurt him the way he did. But my mouth wouldn't cooperate. I watched as sauntered down the street to a waiting car and climbed in.
Stay tuned. More to come. :)