Derek can recall how it happened, when, what every sensation felt like but for the life of him he can't remember why he let it happen. Why he allowed himself to fall into a lustfully depraved relationship with one Jackson Whittemore.
Jackson's an enigma an exorbitant amount of issues shoved into a living breathing containment of flesh.
Its dawn and Derek's driving though town on his way home from his job at the docks, slinging freshly caught fish. He reeks of the ocean and fish guts and he can still feel the slimy hardness of the fish's scales beneath his nails from when he had filleted them.
He stops at a set of traffic lights and one handily opens his pack of cigarettes, using the car cigarette lighter to ignite it and he knows the nicotine isn't going to mix well with the lingering smell of fish but he can't bring himself to give a fuck.
Derek lives in a shitty neighbourhood. The whole place is a slum, with hookers and druggies lining every corner. It's not a nice place to live but if Derek wanted nice he would have left a long time ago but as it is he doesn't want nice or habitable because there both comforts he's gone without for such a long time.
When he parks up at his apartment building he pushes out his radio and shoves it into his duffel to take upstairs with him, because honestly he wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to steal it. People have had their cars broken into for a lot less.
He works out once he's inside, does pull ups using a bar he fitted in at the top of the doorway to the kitchen. He showers, uses the last of the lime and lemon shower gel that's been hanging in his shower for weeks even though the bottles squashed to shit from his attempts to get the last tendrils of it out.
The only bad thing about having been at work this early Derek notes is that he can never get to sleep. He's restless and it's too bright out. He opens his fridge and noticing that his groceries are scarce he decides to pick up a couple of things.
He mostly gets canned goods because they last for a long time and the cans are big enough for a serving of one. It's not as if he needs to cook for anyone else.
It's when he's walking out of the seven eleven that he sees him. A boy just shy of seventeen by the looks of him, full lipped with hazy blue eyes. He stumbles out of the alley, the sleeve of his hoody pulled over his hand as he brings it up to wipe at his mouth and yeah he's definitely wiping away come. A greasy looking guy walks out of the alley a few seconds later, legs stretching outward whiles his hand palms against the crotch of his trousers. The greasy guy gives the teen a nod before his fingers flick at blue eyes cheek.
Derek sneers because the touch is intimate and he can almost feel the way the teen bristles at the contact. He doesn't know why he's still standing there, why he's still watching as the greaser walks away and the teen pulls a small wad of bills out of his pocket, hastily thumbs through them before shoving them back into his hoody.
The kid looks up then and freezes when he catches Derek's eye. Derek snaps out of his stupor long enough to see the teen look anxious then pissed.
"What the hell are you staring at?" He grouches and Derek out of habit goes to snap back with a venomous comment or some type of threat but what comes out instead is.
"How much?"
The boy looks taken back for a minute before stepping closer making the conversation a bit less public.
"Depends what you're after." He says and Derek honestly doesn't know what he wants from this kid.
Derek hasn't had sex in over nine months and he's almost forgotten what its like to have someone else touch him. This kid looks like bad news, he's a whore he could have any type of S.T.I or S.T.D. He could be dangerous. But Derek reminds himself that if he wanted safe he wouldn't be here, he wouldn't be talking prices with a whore who looks like he only experienced puberty about two years ago.
"A blowjob." He says and the kid sniffs, looks away.
"40 bucks." That's a lot of money - on Derek's wages anyway- still he just grunts then inclines his head towards his apartment block which is an easy ten minute walk away from the seven eleven.
The kid follows him, no further questioning, nothing. Derek could be a serial killer for all he knows. Does the kid have no regard for his life what so ever? Apparently not because he follows Derek all the way up the dodgy spiral staircase to his apartment and doesn't even flinch when Derek slams the door shut, deadbolts it.
Derek's apartment is open plan a kitchenette to the left, a pull out springy piece of shit bed to the right and to the far left there's a door that leads to a box bathroom. The only good thing about it is the full length windows on the far end of the room, it's not like there's much of a view but it's the most appealing thing about the apartment.
The kid stands between the kitchenette and bed, watching as Derek places his grocery bags down onto the work top. Once he's put them down he's not sure what to do. He's never paid for sex before, hasn't even entertained the idea of it.
He turns and walks towards the kid, eyes falling down to the come stain that's white and crusted on his hoody sleeve. He swallows feeling chicken shit until the kid speaks.
"Money first." He says, face hard but eyes shining and Derek nods before stepping over to his bed. He can hear the kid take steps after him, close behind. Derek stops before turning around and the kid seems to curl into himself when Derek's penetrative stare bores into him.
"Turn around." Derek says because like he's going to let this stranger know where he keeps his money. The kid rolls his eyes but obliges.
Derek reaches under the mattress to in-between the bed boards where he leaves emergency money. He pulls out forty dollars before tucking the other sixty away.
He stands then clears his throat. The kid turns, raises an eyebrow as he picks the money out of Derek's hand. The bills feel cold and crisp as they slide out of his palm and Derek feigns nonchalance as he watches the kid count the money. The money disappears into his pocket then he's pushing Derek down to sit on the edge of his bed. The mattress squeaks, then the boy's slipping down onto his knees, both hands working together to undo Derek's belt, zipper and button. He pushes at the open V of Derek's jeans, pulls his half hard cock out, stretching the material of his boxers down to just beneath his balls.
He jerks him for a bit, palm unnaturally smooth and Derek exhales heavily through his nostrils as he feels his cock fill up. Then the kids sealing his mouth around the curved tip of Derek's cock, cheeks hollowing out, simultaneously sucking and licking at the head. He pulls off for a minute then he's just tonguing at Derek's foreskin like he's fascinated with it. He runs his thumb over the wet head, pushes his foreskin down and watches as a drop of precome splurges out, the substance thick and translucent against the shiny redness of Derek's cock.
He lowers his head a moment later; taking more than just the head into his mouth and fuck it feels good it feels amazing. There's something undeniably filthy about it. Having a teenaged whore on his knees for him, head bobbing like mad, jaw flexing and working as if he's double jointed, saliva slicking the way, little wet noises filling the air.
Derek moans, deep and sweet, one hand going to cradle the back of the kid's head. He drops back on one elbow, keeping himself perched up enough so that he can see the teen. He can't bring himself to lie down because he doesn't want to miss this, can't miss this. The show the kids putting on and it doesn't even look intentional either but it's a fucking picture none the less.
His long brown eyelashes – so light they almost look blonde, flutter hastily when Derek shoves his hips up. The kid makes gagging noises, little choking sounds and Derek grits his teeth around a moan, curls the fingers of his hand on the kids head into his hair and yanks his head further down as he comes.
The kid doesn't even attempt to swallow it, his tongue just spasms, mouth spitting out Derek's come but with his mouth still full of Derek's cock the come goes everywhere. Over the kids chin, down over Derek's cock until it lathers over his balls.
Chest heaving from his orgasm Derek realises he's still got a hand in the kids hair so he lets go slowly, flexes each finger against the teen's scalp.
"You're good at that." Derek says before he can think better of it and he wonders if sexual etiquette has changed much in the nine months he hasn't gotten any action. He must have said something right though because the kid blushes a little, pink tinting his cheeks before he looks away, wipes at his mouth.
"Mind getting me a tissue." He says and Derek clears his throat before tucking himself back into his pants. He tries to avoid getting come on his hands but it's everywhere so with slippery sticky fingers he adjusts his trousers and steps through to the bathroom.
He's just collecting some tissue paper when he hears the front door slam shut. With widening eyes and a haunting realization Derek rushes out of the bathroom, his eyes going around to all the points in the apartment. The kids gone. He runs over to the bed, kneels down and reaches under the mattress. The kids gone and so's his sixty bucks.
"Son of a bitch."