Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. If I did the world would be a happier place. Disney owns them, the lucky bastards.
WARNING: This story contains SLASH. If you don't like it then don't read this story. Also Chapter 1 contains very graphic slash so if you don't want to read graphic slash you can skip the dream part which is in italic and just email me or leave a review and I can summarize it for you. The rest of the chapters are PG rated.
Notes: I do not know if some of the phrases I used in this were necessarily in use in 1899 but let's just pretend okay?
Up All Night
By Bottles
-
He woke up in a cold sweat. Those dreams had been plaguing him yet again. Race thought to himself, "I'm never going to be able to sell the papes if these keep up." Race noticed that he was rather aroused. Even though it was three o'clock in the morning, Racetrack would not consider his erection a morning wood. Suddenly like a train it hit him, the memories, the dream. Even in the sweltering heat of a New York summer night, Race shivered.
Race was sitting in bed as he debated whether or not he wanted to scale down the fire escape to the menacing streets down below. He found himself meandering around Manhattan. There were still 3 hours until Kloppman would begin his daily struggle of arousing the boys. He absentmindedly reached into his frayed pocket and found a cigar he had purchased earlier from his winnings at the Sheepshead Races. "Must have been my lucky day," he said out loud. "Now, where do I want to go?" His head was suddenly filled with the phrase, Trovarme al ponte. His mind debated with his body as the memories crept back over him like an early autumn frost. Once again, Race shivered.
A nippy breeze chilled Racetrack to the bone, the tattered mismatched combination of cloth--that not many would consider clothes, offering no resistance as he walked. He was meeting someone; the same person that he had been meeting secretly for the last few weeks. Jack must have thought he was on drugs going out in the January cold, coming back and not saying a word before passing out into bed. It wasn't all about sex though. It was love. Race was in love with his nighttime companion… and he did not even know his name.
The night was damn cold as Race waited by the Brooklyn Bridge. His companion was late, maybe he wasn't even going to show. After what seemed like hours a rejected and broken Race turned around and began to head back to Manhattan. Suddenly he heard the hurried steps of a stranger echoing through the empty expanse of the bridge. Joy warmed Race's heart as he realized his lover had arrived. The moon reflected brightly off the then still waters of the East River but, regardless of the lighting, the stranger's face remained hidden in a shroud of darkness. Race decided he would later learn the identity of his mystery lover, but first he had more important things to do.
The stranger pulled Racetrack into a deep kiss, a kiss that tasted like cheap brandy and old cigarettes, but it didn't matter to Racetrack because he was in love with the scent of this boy…everything about him. It was the musky smell of river water, sweat, and smoke that drove Racetrack absolutely insane. He knew that he wanted more of the stranger's attention…his love; he needed it, like an addict needs his daily fix. Racetrack was addicted, addicted to the love and passion that he felt radiating from this boy. They spotted some cardboard near a pile of discarded papers on the side of the bridge which they quickly assembled into bedding and a shield to block the harsh river wind whistled across the river, slightly rocking the bridge.
Racetrack stripped him of his suspenders and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, carefully fighting his urge to rip it clear off his love's body. Race then patiently waited for the stranger to remove him of his tread-bare outfit. After he was exposed Race looked at his lover, rubbing his hands all over his naked tanned body Racetrack could feel his love's erection grow at Race's every touch. While Race went to free him of his pants and ease the discomfort that they were causing his partner was running his hands through Race's hair and slowly massaging his way down to Race's stiff penis. Gently cupping his rigid member he began to slowly move his rough hands up and down Race's shaft. At the unexpected moment Race lost all concentration and yanked down his partner's pants and threw them against the cardboard piece that was all that stood between them and the increasingly strong gusts of wind. Race now wanting to return the rapture he was experiencing surprised his companion by lowering his mouth to the others penis and methodically began sucking it. At first he licked the head and traced a spiral down to the base. He then blew softly on it causing his lover to gasp out in a mixture of surprise, pleasure, and pain. Before the other could fully re-act Race placed his warm, wet mouth all over his stiff, cold manhood, shocking him with the sudden warmth. Race moved up and down his partner's swollen manhood, occasionally grazing the underside with his teeth to get a quick gasp from his lover. His hands which were rubbing his lover's balls felt them tense up and Race knew that he was about to cum. He prepared himself as the thick, white fluid shot into his mouth; he swallowed savoring the taste of his handiwork.
Of course never to be outdone and even before he could regain his breath Race's lover began to run his hands over Racetrack's thighs. He was on an adrenaline high and wanted to bring Race to his climax so that they could come down together. He began working the shaft of Race's penis with his hands again while he used his tongue to occupy the other's mouth. Struggling to remember what he could Race's love moved his mouth down onto Race's stiff, throbbing member while he inserted a finger into Race trying to find his prostate. He knew he succeeded when Race arched his back and moaned in sudden and extreme pleasure, the moans taken away by the wind squalls and drowning out by the sound of the East River ferociously crashing below the two boys. The orgasm Race had was like nothing ever experienced and when he had finally finished filling his love's mouth full of his sweetly sour seed the collapsed together, just holding on.
Race raced over and grabbed a cigar from his discarded pants and waited for his lover to light his own cigarette before passing the matches to Race. The heavy smell of sex clung to the now calm air as the two boys could feel their heartbeats returning to normal. Race carefully turned over to face his lover's still unknown face and asked. "Who are you? Will you tell me your name?" To that his lover simply replied, "you know it, you have know it all along, and when you realize it—I'll be waiting."
And that's where Racetrack always woke up. The phrase, Trovarme al ponte, ran through his mind yet again. His feet took control and Race began to walk to the Brooklyn Bridge. Little did he know, he wasn't the only one up late that night.
Thanks: Thanks to my betas Dishrags and OMD. Without you guys I could never get this done!
Review! More to come.