It was in the early autumn when Matthew Williams realized he wouldn't be able to pay his rent any longer. He sat down on the old chair in the small living room, one leg of the piece of furniture being loose, and he felt stupid and hopeless. The nineteen year old had always been rather naive but still took his finances seriously. He attended college and worked part-time as a waiter to be at least somewhat less of a burden for his parents who paid for his tuition. He didn't want them to also pay his rent. They already had a hard time coming up with money.
"Are you okay, mon cher?" He heard the soft voice of his boyfriend who now placed his hands on Matthew's shoulders and began gently kneading them.
"Yes, don't worry. I just thought about an essay I have to write. Nothing serious."
His boyfriend Francis had been so thoughtful and caring from the very start of their relationship, which was now almost two years ago. Francis was French but his family had moved from their home country to the US when he was only four years old. Now he was twenty-two and had recently started working as a chef at a quaint little restaurant not far from Matthew's college. The job wasn't exactly rewarding and the pay was low, but it was a start. Francis had this dream to open his own restaurant someday and Matthew hoped so much for him to be able to make it come true.
Matthew was from the French speaking part of Canada but his family had to move because of his father's job.
They met when Matthew was still in high school and Francis had attended a culinary school to perfect his talents. One day when the Canadian was just walking home from school, he suddenly heard a loud noise. When he came closer to see what had happened, there was the Frenchman who had his arms fully loaded with different sized plates and pots. He had a worried expression on his face and Matthew saw exactly why. On the ground was a huge frying pan with its contents spilled everywhere. The food looked to be very hard to make, judging by the carefully selected ingredients. Was that a piece of avocado? The stranger had obviously put great effort into the presentation and that's why he now looked as if someone had killed his dog or something.
"Excuse me. Could you please help me clean up that mess? I am already late and now I dropped the food and have to make the dish all over again." The man was clearly put under pressure. Even though he looked absolutely handsome, there were dark shadows under his eyes and he was unnaturally pale. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Matthew quickly nodded his head, partially because he was happy someone had noticed him because it rarely happened.
The Canadian helped the stranger put down the things he held in his arms and together they knelt down.
"How do we clean up the food? I have no paper tissues with me or anything for that matter." The man said and picked up the frying pan to inspect it for any damage.
"But I have some." Matthew quickly opened his backpack and took out a package of white disposable paper tissues. They each took one and began to clean up, which wasn't easy, seeing as the thin material quickly became soaked in sauce and tore apart. Soon the package was completely empty. They hurriedly threw the now useless stuff into the next garbage container they found and silently agreed to walk together to wherever the older man needed to head to.
It soon became clear that there was a mutual attraction between them. They exchanged phone numbers and had their first date a couple days later. Then came the second date, and then another one. After only half a month Matthew called the Frenchman his boyfriend and vice versa. They were a couple since then.
"Don't worry, I'm sure the professor will like your essay." Matthew turned so he faced his boyfriend and kissed him on the lips. He was afraid to tell Francis the truth. So he didn't.
"Yes, you're right. Thanks." Francis smiled at him just then and held out one hand to help Matthew stand up. When they stood face to face in the middle of the small room, the Canadian wondered all over again just how he'd had the luck to meet the Frenchman. He didn't feel worthy of the other's love and affection sometimes. Francis had told him right at the start of their relationship that he was bisexual. Normally he was a really open individual regarding love and sex and didn't take the matter all that serious, for he'd always been more interested in enjoying occasional one-night-stands or a few polyamorous relationships rather than settling down with one person who could potentially hold you back from realizing your dreams.
But still he wanted to try. Only for Matthew he was loyal and committed. The Canadian had always been a little old-fashioned when it came to relationships and so he told Francis he wasn't comfortable with the idea of his partner enjoying intimate times with others while being with him. And Francis respected that.
They had sex that night and cuddled under the warm duvet afterwards. When the Frenchman fell asleep he rested his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck as he held the Canadian in his arms. Matthew lay with his back to his boyfriend who couldn't see that he was still wide awake and pondering. He probably shouldn't have purchased that expensive Tupperware or the perfume for his boyfriend's birthday. He should have just chosen between the two. But it was too late now.
The next morning was kind of cold, one could already feel that the season had changed. Matthew stretched his limbs out, and when he rolled over to the side he noticed his boyfriend wasn't there anymore. Probably at work. A quick look at his alarm clock confirmed his thoughts because it showed five o'clock. That was the time when Francis had to start working.
Matthew was still too tired to get up but he also couldn't fall asleep again. So he had no other choice but to lie in bed and think about anything and everything to pass the time, though he quickly noticed he wouldn't be able to ignore a few specific thoughts about money. Or rather his lack of money. Francis also had very little and Matthew couldn't bring himself to tell his boyfriend. The Canadian mostly worked at evening, and, even though the owner of the tea shop was nice to him, as well as the customers, the pay just wasn't enough to cover his living expenses. Not when Matthew wanted to buy something nice for his boyfriend then and again. And he was much too shy to ever have the courage to ask his boss for a raise. The early morning passed slowly but steadily and soon it was time for the Canadian to get up and take a shower because he had to go to his first lecture of the day.
Without any idea how to solve his dilemma.
Matthew didn't really have friends at college and moreover he seemed to be almost invisible, for only one or two people noticed him whenever he went somewhere.
Matthew and Francis met again just when the Canadian was about to leave for work.
"Have fun, mon cher." The Frenchman said and kissed him on the lips. The younger of the two gently shook his head.
"That's impossible, unfortunately." But it was still nice of his boyfriend to say that same sentence whenever he went to work. Matthew loved him so much.
"Bye." He quickly added so he didn't come off as cold. They kissed again and he went on his way.
...
"Mr. Kirkland, the last costumer just left." Matthew told the older man who was seated at one of the tables in the corner of the little tea shop, and who was busy filling in a few documents that lay before him on the table as well as a cup of tea.
"Good, then I believe it's time to call it a night." The Englishman stood up from his chair and picked up the papers and the cup that was almost empty. He quickly drank the rest.
"I'll put my cup in the dishwasher, you go home. Ah, no, wait!" He added just as Matthew took the first step towards the door. He turned around.
"Yes, Sir?"
"I forgot to tell you something. A friend of mine will be visiting me tomorrow. He'll stay in town for a couple of days for some meeting. That's why I don't know if I'll be able to be here all the time. I promised to show him the area. But Toris will work the shift with you for the next few days. If something happens, my cell phone number is written on a yellow piece of paper that's stuck to the refrigerator in the kitchen. That's all. Goodnight, Matthew."
"Goodnight, Mr. Kirkland."
The Canadian walked home and as he went into his and Francis' bedroom, he couldn't hold back a wide grin when he saw his boyfriend lying in bed only with his upper body, the lower half hanging over the edge of the bed. The Frenchman was already fast asleep and Matthew pulled on his legs and put the duvet on top so that the other was placed normally. He was careful while changing clothes so he didn't accidentally wake up his lover.
"Goodnight, Francis. I love you." He kissed the other on the forehead after he crawled under the duvet as well, and fell asleep almost instantly.
The next day was practically the same as the day before. The only exception was that Matthew had a weird encounter with the friend of Mr. Kirkland when he started his shift that evening. The Englishman had excused himself for a short time because he had to run some errands, and his friend took that as an opportunity to start a conversation with the shy Canadian.
"Hey, how old are you?" He asked without second thought. His demeanour surprised Matthew, who hadn't expected for his boss to be friends with someone as outgoing as that.
"Erm, 19. Why?"
"You look so young with your baby face, just saying." Matthew could almost feel his face heat up at that statement. That wasn't something a boy wanted to hear about his looks.
"How long have you worked here?"
"For one year." Mr. Kirkland's friend took a seat at the table nearest to the counter where Matthew stood brewing some tea for another costumer that had seated himself somewhere else in the shop and probably couldn't hear their conversation.
"Your name is Matthew, right?"
"Yes, how do you know?" The stranger just laughed at that which made his blue eyes shine bright. He had almost the same eye colour as Francis.
"Dude, it's written on your name tag." This man was just rude, to make fun of him so bluntly. Even though it was obvious.
"Is that so." He mumbled, his mood already turned sour.
"My name's Alfred Jones. Alfred F. Jones actually. Do you want to know what the F stands for?"
"No one cares." The harsh voice of Mr. Kirkland suddenly interrupted him.
"Awww, man, and I thought you'd missed me." The Englishman had a paperback in his arms and went into the kitchen to put its contents away. He'd bought ingredients for cakes and muffins which they also served to the costumers.
"Don't flatter yourself, git!" He loudly said so they could hear him from the kitchen. That's when Alfred suddenly leaped up from his chair and stood in front of Matthew so he practically towered over him. He was a couple inches taller than the Canadian and had to bend down a little so they were on eye level. Then he whispered something in his ear that sent shivers down his spine.
"I'd really like to learn more about you, Matthew." It was the way he said it, not the words, that gave the teen goosebumps. Because all of a sudden Mr. Jones didn't appear like the outgoing and mischievous but kind of friendly guy anymore. And his eyes also didn't shine any longer, for they now seemed to be almost glowing, burning straight into Matthew's soul. The older man had a dark look in his eyes but the Canadian didn't dare find out what it meant.
"I'm ready to leave now." He heard Mr. Kirkland say and quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts that had nestled themselves in his mind.
"Is everything alright, Matthew?" The Englishman asked him with a concerned voice.
"Yes. Yes, don't worry, Sir."
"Well then, come with me, Alfred." Matthew started to clean the counter top with a wet cloth just as the two older men were about to leave; Alfred throwing a last glance back at him. And suddenly the teen was afraid of him.
The next day Mr. Jones didn't show up at the tea shop and Matthew relaxed a little. The evening passed quickly and it was always pleasant to be working the same shift with Toris who was an introvert but nice Lithuanian boy not much older than Matthew. The Canadian felt almost peaceful that evening, but when he came home a couple hours later he remembered that it would soon be time to pay his rent. And no matter how much he thought about the options he had, none of it would be possible for him. There was nothing left, no way for him to solve his problem on his own.
The next day while sitting in his lectures, he had a hard time concentrating. At home he sat on the couch in the living room that was always creaking whenever someone sat down on it, and spent the time until the evening reading a book. Or at least he tried to. He'd read the third paragraph on the same page for the thirtieth time already, but he wasn't able to understand the words. He really needed some comfort right now, but Francis wasn't home yet, and even if he was, Matthew would rather die than to tell his boyfriend about his money issues.
"You're looking kinda pale, are you sick?" Mr. Jones asked him first thing when Matthew arrived at the tea shop. The teen had the sudden need to wrap his arms around himself for some kind of protection. With Mr. Kirkland there, Mr. Jones had slipped into his role of the extrovert funny person again. And Matthew thought to himself 'He was probably the stereotypical jock at school, quarterback of the football team and popular with the cheerleaders.' He seemed to be the kind of guy who would make fun of weaker people. And who had highest grades in PE judging by his build. Matthew felt vulnerable under his gaze. He hurriedly stood behind the counter where Mr. Jones could only see his upper half.
"I'm alright and I'm always pale, don't worry."
"You sure? I wouldn't want for you to lose consciousness here of all places." He sounded concerned but what he said left a bitter after-taste as though he tried to hint something.
"Jones, don't harass my employees." Mr. Kirkland said as he looked up from his cup of earl grey tea.
"Sorry, Mattie. I didn't mean to bother you. Are you mad at me now?" The Canadian gritted his teeth and hoped nobody would be able to notice. He didn't look Mr. Jones in the eyes, and instead busied himself cleaning a table that had a wet stain on top of it.
"No, I'm not mad at you, Sir. Don't worry." He forced himself to reply.
"See, Arthur? He's not bothered."
"Yes, yes. I heard him perfectly well." The Englishman took a sip of his tea. Meanwhile, Toris took the orders from two new costumers, an elderly couple, who had taken their seats at the window-site of the shop.
"Matthew, is the cake ready?" He quietly asked when he got back to the counter.
"Yes, wait a moment." The Canadian went into the kitchen and cut a few pieces out of the cake that had already been put down on the counter top above the oven to cool down. He served the food to the couple and started to clean the empty tables again, feeling eyes on him all along. And he knew exactly who they belonged to.
When his shift ended, it was pitch black outside but luckily the street lights were still switched on. He hurried to get home nonetheless, but halfway through his walk, someone put their hand on his shoulder. He almost had a heart attack.
"Hey there. No need to be afraid. It's just me, Alfred." The Canadian turned around just in time to see the huge grin on the other's face falling apart. It happened so fast he wasn't even sure if it really had been there in the first place. Mr. Jones had a concerned look on his face now. He still had his hand on Matthew's shoulder and pressed a little too hard, for it started to hurt. The teen winced but didn't say anything about it.
"You really look a little weak today, I just wanted to confirm you're okay because I'm worried about you." Matthew tried to somehow pry himself free from the other's grip, but to no avail.
"Really, it's okay. I'm not sick. I just had some stress lately." The face of the older man seemed to lighten up at these words.
"Well, if that's true you can talk to me about it. I won't tell anyone. Promise." The Canadian almost started laughing at that. Why should he tell some stranger about his private life?
"No, thank you, I really should go now." He tried again to loosen the grip of Mr. Jones' hand. But the man didn't respond to it.
"Is it money?" Matthew stiffened instantly. "You know, I'm not stupid. A young man like you, working in such a tiny little shop, earning almost nothing. Artie told me you attend the college in town. I know how expensive that is." Matthew could only shake his head, though he knew the man was right. But something in the tone of the man's voice was weird, you could even say it sounded sinister. The teen was already afraid, he couldn't imagine how scary something like that would feel to a girl.
"You probably live with your girlfriend, am I right?" The man asked and came closer to Matthew's face.
"B-Boyfriend, actually." A wide grin spread across the other's face.
"Is that so. I'm sure you two are really happy with each other, hmm?" When the Canadian teen thought about Francis, he felt warmth flowing through his body. It relaxed him a little bit.
"Yes. I love him very much." A blush formed on his cheeks and he felt embarrassed, so he just looked down at his feet. Mr. Jones' face came even closer.
"And you don't want to worry him with your problems?" Matthew nodded his head. It felt strangely good to just talk to someone about his secrets.
"Awww, but that's not good. In a healthy relationship people can talk about their problems."
The older man seemed to have a strange power over Matthew; he played with his emotions using just a few words. The teen felt guilty, as though he didn't trust Francis enough. He just felt like crying at that moment. Mr. Jones started to whisper in his ear again.
"You know, there are other means to earn money. I could show you. Your boss doesn't need to know. I won't tell him and you won't tell your boyfriend. Then it's a secret. Just between us. And you will have so much money you can buy anything you want." Matthew was tempted, but when Mr. Jones let one of his hands (the one that wasn't on his shoulder) slide down to his lower back, he woke up from his daze and kicked the other man in the balls.
"Are you fucking serious?" He heard him shout after him as he started running. The teen didn't dare look behind him to see if the man followed him. He just ran without taking a single break and arrived at home heavily breathing and sweating. Francis was still awake and had a funny expression on his face as Matthew went into their shared bedroom.
"Did you run a marathon?" He asked the younger one and kissed him.
"I just wanted to get back home earlier. I missed you." He kissed back passionately while wrapping his arms around Francis' back, pulling him closer and pressing against him.
"Mhm, I missed you too." The Frenchman answered, already trying to remove his shirt. Needless to say, they didn't sleep much that night.
...
Just two more days and it would be time to pay his rent. It was Saturday and Matthew sat at the dining table in their little apartment, eating breakfast. Francis was busy baking a cake for an engagement party of one of his friends.
"It looks so good." The Canadian commented as he inspected Francis' work.
"Thank you. But above all it's free. Gilbert is lucky I'm such a nice person." Matthew chuckled softly.
"Yes yes. He doesn't make a lot of money as a freelance journalist. I wonder how he got the money to buy the engagement ring." Francis took a small bowl filled to the brim with chocolate, and placed it in a bigger one with hot water so it could melt.
"He recently wrote an article about some nudist camp and sent it to a magazine. They loved it so much he even won an award. It seems the world's slowly turning less prudish. Finally." Matthew nodded his head then, even if he didn't feel comfortable with nudity.
"What did Elizabeta say when he told her?" Francis laughed as he put the melted chocolate over the cake.
"At first he didn't want to tell her, but she found out on her own when she bought the same magazine that has his article in it. And she was absolutely furious. Took her frying pan and hit him over the head with it." They were both laughing hard at this point. Matthew finished his breakfast after he finally calmed down a little.
"When will you be going?" He asked Francis who had just started wrapping up the cake.
"Right now, actually. We still need to prepare a few things for the party and that will take a while. I'm sorry." Matthew quickly stood up from his chair and went over to his boyfriend.
"It's okay. Have fun." They hugged and kissed before Francis went on his way. The Canadian teen felt his stomach cramp up when he thought about his own plans for the day. After the Frenchman had left their apartment, Matthew took a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. It had a number written on it in red. He grabbed his phone and called the number while nervously pacing up and down in the living room. After only a few seconds he heard a voice.
"Hello?" The person said.
"I'm ready now. You can come pick me up." That was the only thing he said before he switched off the phone.
And it didn't take long for Mr. Jones to arrive at his apartment building. The man drove a black Jaguar that made Matthew wonder what kind of job the man probably had. The Canadian hurried to join the older man in his car, averting his gaze in shame as he sat down. He just wanted it to be done as soon as possible. But what was 'it' exactly? He wasn't sure because the man hadn't explained to him what they were about to be doing.
"What will happen now?" He asked while they started driving.
"You'll see when we arrive. Don't be so impatient." Matthew didn't ask again.
The evening before, after a few days of desperation, the teen couldn't bear it anymore and apologized to Mr. Kirkland's friend for his (justified) rudeness. He asked the man for help and the other agreed without a second of hesitation. And here they were now.
After a couple of minutes they arrived at an empty street in the outskirts of town, the buildings abandoned and void of people, even though it was early in the day.
"A few years ago, these were being used as offices for different companies but most of them have since been closed down when the economic crisis hit its peak." Mr. Jones explained as he pointed to a row of buildings.
"You will find that they're mostly used as shelter for homeless people and junkies now. It doesn't matter if someone can see us here; it will be fairly easy for me to buy their silence. And now come come with me." The man went ahead toward one of the buildings that had its door removed, and instead there were three pieces of plank nailed over the empty space to make it harder for people to enter. It didn't do anything actually because Mr. Jones just had to pull at one of them to make it certain for Matthew that the man had been there before and knew the area like the back of his hand.
They walked through the ground floor while Matthew looked around at the stuff that had been left behind. There hung a pretty painting on one wall that showed a beach at sunset, perfectly framed, and the carpet on the floor had more stains than clean spots on it. It was dark in the building because the electricity supply had been cut off. A stray cat lay on the floor, playing with a pen.
Mr. Jones led him towards a staircase that was situated behind a plain white door in the far corner of the room.
"It's upstairs. Come on, boy." The teen followed behind the other man and soon found himself in a room filled with camera equipment. He had a bad feeling but couldn't do anything about it. It was too late now.
"Get undressed."
Matthew felt like a prostitute right then, or rather like a slave without free will. And the strangest thing was: he didn't care. It was like the night a couple days ago when the older man had been able to make his emotions go on a roller coaster ride with just a few words. He knew what was about to come, the other didn't have to explain anymore. He'd understood already.
The teen stripped and stood completely naked in front of the man who let his gaze run up and down Matthew's exposed body.
"Nice." He heard the other comment his figure, but he only looked down on the floor. He had a loud buzzing in his ears, or was it his heartbeat?
"Will this be published?" The teen mumbled quietly. He wouldn't be able to continue living if Francis ever found out, and he felt like such a hypocrite. And that's exactly what he was. That was also the moment when a tiny spark of self-hatred made its way into Matthew's heart, implanting itself in his body. And he would never be able to get rid of it.
"I don't know. Depends on your show. Maybe I will send the tape to a friend of mine who has contacts to the industry, in which case you could become famous. Or I will just keep you as my pet." Mr. Jones came closer to him as he said that, and let his hand wander over Matthew's arms and torso.
"And what's with the money?" The teen felt like crying when he heard himself saying those words. He didn't want to sound like someone who would do anything for money, but what was he, other than that? On the other hand he wanted to keep his dignity by making it clear that he would never do such a thing if he had another option. He did it for Francis, for their relationship. Their shared life. He started crying a little. Mr. Jones saw this and wiped his tears away.
"Take your clothes and put them down on the floor, then kneel on all fours."
The instruction was clear and easy to follow. Matthew did just that while the other man turned on the cameras and positioned them around the boy, before taking off his own clothes. When he was done and stood behind the teen, he had a bottle of lube in his hand.
"I'm going to prepare you now." He said and opened the bottle. From his position, Matthew could only hear a clicking. The knowledge of what was about to happen made him start trembling out of fear. He didn't want any of this. But soon he felt the man's fingers spreading his ass cheeks apart and entering his hole one finger after another. The Canadian was used to the feeling but it was still unpleasant. Mr. Jones took his time which only made it so much worse.
"Can you please hurry up? I want to go home." Matthew couldn't stop himself from whining. The older man chuckled softly but listened to the teen. He was already hard.
He positioned himself again and started entering Matthew who whimpered faintly.
"Fuck, you're tight." He waited a few seconds for the teen to adjust.
"You can just think about your boyfriend. Then it won't feel so bad anymore. Image him fucking you instead of me."
"I love him so much." The Canadian said. He was clearly crying again, that much was obvious.
"That's cute." Mr. Jones commented. He pulled out a little, only to thrust back in, forcefully. Matthew had to reposition his hands so he wouldn't fall to the floor face first.
"Tell me about him." The older man sounded genuinely interested as he said that, but also a little amused.
"He's so thoughtful and gentle. He tells me every day how much he loves me."
Mr. Jones quickened his pace and Matthew started panting softly.
"I feel so happy whenever I see him. I want to grow old with him. He's so good to me."
Just as he said that, the man hit his prostate which made Matthew moan loudly. The older one caressed his ass cheeks for a short time before slapping them.
"Ouch!" Matthew moaned and cried out at the same time at the sensation.
"You know, I'm still a little mad at you because you kicked me." Mr. Jones' voice sounded low and rough now.
"I al-already apologized." Matthew had a hard time speaking when he couldn't hold back his moans and whimpers. The other quickened his pace yet again.
"Ow!" Another slap to his butt. The boy's legs were shaking at this point, his hips wobbling slightly.
"You're such a slut. You would make a good prostitute." The man put his hands on Matthew's hips and pulled him closer so he could penetrate him more deeply. They were both covered by a thin layer of sweat.
"Ah! F-fuck!" The teen nearly lost himself just then. Every thrust hit his prostate perfectly; his nerves were being overstimulated. He closed his eyes and imagined Francis holding him. Francis' smile, Francis' love. And then everything was white. His orgasm felt like electricity flowing through his body. The sensation was most intensive in his lower belly. Matthew didn't notice the other man also climaxing, but he knew he had, because when the man pulled out of him, he was soft again.
"Well done, pet. Put on your clothes, I will drive you back home now."
The teen needed a few seconds to process the words, but then he hurriedly did what the man had told him.
"I chose to keep you, boy. Be grateful."
...
"How was your day?" Matthew asked his boyfriend as they cuddled on the couch in the living room. Francis wrapped his arms around the younger teen, humming softly.
"It was fun. Gilbert nearly choked on the cake, but other than that, yes, I had a good time." Matthew had a mental picture of the scene in his head and giggled. He loved moments like these, being with his boyfriend and just talking. Francis didn't ask him why he refused to have sex that night. And for that, he loved him even more.
On Monday, he had more than enough money to pay his part of the rent.
Weeks passed and Matthew almost thought he wouldn't need to sleep with Mr. Jones ever again, but then the refrigerator broke down. The repair of the old thing would be nearly as costly as a brand new one. It was so tempting and easy to give Mr. Jones a call and make another appointment.
When they met, there wasn't much time because the older man lived far away and had only travelled to Matthew's town for a business meeting the last time he'd been there. He'd have to leave soon so he wouldn't be late for work. It was just enough time for a blowjob which the teen absolutely loathed to do. His mouth cramped up and he almost choked on the sperm of the older man, and on his own spit. He bobbed his head up and down and sucked and couldn't breathe. He whined and complained the whole time. Mr. Jones found it rather endearing, having his hand buried in the boy's hair all along and pulling hard on it.
Matthew took the bus back home.
He told Francis his boss had given him a raise and that's why they had enough money to buy a new refrigerator now. The Frenchman smiled at him and hugged him tightly.
"See, good work will always be rewarded. I told you."
Matthew started to change as time passed, slowly becoming more distant and detached. Francis tried to ask him about it but he received no answers. Only excuses.
"Were you a football player in school, by any chance?" He asked Mr. Jones one day. They'd just had sex and were cleaning themselves up now. The man merely looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Why would you think that?"
The teen shrugged his shoulders.
"I just thought you come off as the stereotypical jock. Like someone who'd be popular with everyone, and who would bully the weak." He was surprised when the older man started to laugh.
"No way. I was a total loner. Never had that many friends. Arthur Kirkland, your boss, was one of the few people who didn't hate my guts. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't bullied, but something bad happened in middle school and from then on the other students were afraid of me. It lasted until I graduated from high school. You know, I'm from a very small village in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knew everyone and all the kids went to the same school together. Nothing remains a secret."
"And what was the 'bad' thing exactly?" Matthew asked curious.
Mr. Jones smiled when he answered.
"I pushed a female teacher down the stairs."
"Was she badly hurt?"
"No, but her baby was. It died."
Suddenly it felt like the world had turned upside down.
"What?" Matthew couldn't believe it.
"It means she had a miscarriage."
"Yes, I know what that means. Why did you do that?" The man just chuckled.
"I dunno. I guess I just felt like doing it. She was so annoying." Suddenly Matthew felt as though the temperature in the room had gotten much colder. He shivered as fear crept over him.
"Don't you feel any remorse?" The man shook his head.
"Nope." Without noticing, Matthew had started slowly taking a few small steps back.
"I would also be afraid of you if I had attended the same school as you." He mumbled, all tensed up and nervous. Mr. Jones appeared more like a predator than anything else now.
"It doesn't matter. You're mine now." He quickly walked up toward Matthew to whisper something in his ear.
"You know what?"
Matthew waited, completely on edge now.
"I'm just kidding." A few seconds of silence followed.
"Huh?"
"I was just bullshitting you. I made up that story just now. Relax." Matthew hit the older man over the head when he finally understood. He was so angry.
"You're really a bully! And to think I believed you!" The other just laughed at him.
"And you're so gullible!" The man bowed forward and put his hands on his knees to steady himself, still laughing hard. Matthew stood there, frozen in place, and wrapped his arms around himself. He felt so stupid.
"Come now, I'll drive you home." Mr. Jones said after he'd calmed down enough.
It had actually become some kind of routine for Matthew to meet up with the man. Almost to the point where he didn't feel any guilt anymore. He and Francis were slowly starting do drift apart, even though the teen still loved him with all his heart. But there was no way for him to fix this, seeing as he spent more and more time making up excuses for him to leave their apartment. He'd already accepted his own hypocrisy, telling his boyfriend how much it meant for him to be loyal in a relationship but having sex with another person for money at the same time. He knew he wouldn't be able to forgive the Frenchman if the man ever did the same.
A couple weeks later, Mr. Jones brought another man with him when they met up again. Matthew didn't know this person but he seemed nice enough. That is, until the guy told him they would be doing a threesome today.
"Erm, do I really have to?" The Canadian asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
"Don't be so shy now. This is my buddy, Ivan Braginski. He's also one of my co-workers. I already told him all about us." Matthew looked back and forth between the two older men.
"Of course you will receive twice as much money when you agree to this." Mr. Jones reassured him with a smile. His colleague had platinum blond hair, and violet-looking eyes. He was also very tall, even more than Mr. Jones himself.
"You don't need to feel nervous around me, kid. I don't bite." At those words Matthew's face heated up. The man had an eerie smile on his face.
"Aww, look what you've done. Now he's embarrassed."
The teen was reminded just then, that Mr. Jones had every right to do what he wanted with him. After all he paid Matthew for it. A prostitute wasn't entitled to their own opinion. He was not in a relationship with the man and he certainly didn't feel any love or affection for him.
"Okay. I will do it."
He knelt down in his usual position, Mr. Jones behind him and Mr. Braginski in front of him. They didn't use any of the cameras. Mr. Jones prepared him only sparsely before entering him. It didn't hurt anymore but Matthew still gasped a little at the feeling. The other blond before him put his hands on the boy's chin so he had no other choice but to open his mouth, feeling the man's cock invading it instantly.
Mr. Jones had always been rough with him, not feeling the need to hold back his strength, fucking him hard. His pace being so quick, the teen had problems holding himself in place. He couldn't breathe now, not with the huge dick of Jones' colleague in his mouth. Matthew tried to swallow it whole, but needed a few breaks to breathe in air.
"No teeth." The light-haired man commented, and the teen tried to say 'yes', giving the man's cock a good massage with the vibration of his muffled voice, who moaned at that.
"I told you he was good. So sexy." The other man behind him said, his voice sounding strained. It didn't take long for them to finish, Mr. Braginski being the last one. Matthew had to swallow his cum, ignoring the taste in favour of the money that was soon to be his.
"You did very good." Mr. Jones praised the teen as he caressed his face. The man's colleague gave him an approving nod as well. They left the building together, Matthew walking in the middle, and Mr. Jones having wrapped one arm around the boy's waist.
One night, Alfred F. Jones was woken up at 3am by his cell phone ringing.
"Hm?" He wasn't able to speak in correct sentences while he was so tired.
"He cheated on me." Matthew's sobbing voice was hard to understand, but Alfred still did.
"Who? Your boyfriend?" The teen responded by crying louder.
"Yes." A muffled sound of a door closing, barely audible.
"Where are you going?" Alfred asked the younger one.
"I don't know. I just feel like walking through the streets in the dark." Matthew was still snivelling.
"You shouldn't do that, it's too dangerous." Alfred was slowly becoming more awake and alert.
"Well, what should I do instead, huh?"
"No need to snap at me. Listen. I have this buddy, Antonio. He lives in town. I can tell you where exactly, and you just go to him and tell him I told you to do it. He won't just close the door in your face because he's really nice. Or just let me speak to him myself."
"Okay."
"Where is your boyfriend now?"
"At home, sleeping. I saw him leave a hotel with some girl today. They were holding hands."
Alfred didn't pry any further and instead explained the teen exactly where to go, and after some time he arrived at a big apartment building that looked like its tenants were more than just well-off. And it had to be true because a security guard stood patrol at the entrance.
"Oh shit." Matthew whispered.
"What?"
"There's a security guard. I can't just go inside. What if he thinks I'm a burglar?" The man had already noticed him.
"What are you doing here, boy?" He asked the teen.
"Give him your phone. I will speak to him, he knows me." Mr. Jones said with a calm voice.
"Erm, Sir. There's someone who'd like to talk to you." Matthew felt highly uncomfortable as he said this, while holding out his hand with his cell phone. The guard took it after a second of hesitation.
"Hello?"
Matthew couldn't really understand that much of the conversation, but it didn't last long.
"You can enter." The guard finally said, a friendly smile on his face.
"Thank you, Sir." The teen took his phone back and walked toward the elevator. Mr. Jones had told him the apartment number and it was easy to find. He knocked on the door and waited. After half a minute he heard a voice.
"Coming!" Something crashed loudly, a muffled 'oh shit' could be heard, and then the door was opened.
"Huh? Who are you?" The man in front of him asked. Matthew just gave him the cell phone.
"What? Erm, okay." The man was Spanish, judging by his accent.
The two older men spoke for a couple minutes, laughing then and again. It seemed that Mr. Jones told the other everything because when the Spaniard ended the phone call, he smiled at the Canadian.
"I'm sorry what happened, if that's any consolation. You can sleep on the couch, Matthew. I will bring you a blanket and a pillow. Wait a second." The other left the living room to get the things.
The rest of the night was spent tossing himself from one side to the other, never quite reaching a peaceful sleep.
The next morning, Matthew properly introduced himself to Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the man being a good friend of Mr. Jones, and a very good friend of his boyfriend. The teen had already seen Antonio from a distance in the past, but never had the chance to meet him in person. The night before, it had been too dark to recognise the man, but now that he had, he just felt like dying.
…
"You never told me he was your boyfriend." Antonio said to Francis when the Frenchman opened the door.
"Antonio? What are you doing here? And where were you, Matthew? You weren't there when I woke up." Antonio pushed his way past the other man, not looking happy. He sat down on the couch in the living room.
"Did you cheat on him?" Matthew flinched.
"What? Of course not? Why would you think that?" Francis looked at the Canadian now, shock written in his face.
"Be-because I saw you with a girl. You were just leaving a h-hotel, holding hands." The teen couldn't look the other in the eyes.
"And why did you arrive here with Antonio? I thought you didn't know each other." The Spaniard came to his rescue just then.
"We met at his workplace some time ago. I told him he could talk to me whenever there was something on his mind. And obviously there was. Now answer the question." Francis just shook his head, bemused.
"What girl? I met up with Feliciano yesterday. There was an art fair at the hotel and he wore a dress some woman had sewn for him. Matthew, I promise you I would never cheat on you. Please believe me!" Antonio looked horrified all of a sudden.
"That was yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Oh no, I completely forgot! Lovino will skin me alive!" The man quickly stood up and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He then left the room to call someone.
"Matthew, you told me how important loyalty is to you and I promised you to never cheat on you. I'm so sorry for this misunderstanding." The Canadian went over to his boyfriend without saying another word, just hugging the man tightly.
"No, I am sorry. I should have trusted you more." They kissed lovingly. If Francis could see Matthew's tears, he probably thought the teen cried out of sadness or worry. Everything but the shame that he actually felt.
"Antonio is friends with my boyfriend." Was the first thing Matthew said upon arriving at the empty building they used as a makeshift brothel. They stood on the outside, not caring to enter just yet.
"So you knew each other already?" Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow.
"No. But that's not important. What if he tells him about us? What if he wonders from where we know each other?" The older man slung his arms around Matthew's shoulders.
"Just tell him you know me from your job. It's the truth anyway."
"So you won't tell him?"
"You can count on me. Anything that involves fucking is holy to me."
"But what if he finds out on his own?" Suddenly Mr. Jones looked astonished.
"Francis is your boyfriend?" Matthew nodded.
"Yes."
"Francis Bonnefoy?"
"Yes?" The teen slowly grew nervous.
"Aww, poor little thing. You will never have an ounce of stability with him, the guy will work in that shabby restaurant until he dies." Mr. Jones put his hands on Matthew's face, starting to caress him again.
"Please don't speak of him like that!"
"Yes, yes. I'm sorry. You love him very much, I understand." Jones apologized with amusement in his voice.
"I really do. He's the most loving person I have ever met. I want to marry him someday, and spend the rest of my life together with him."
That was the last thing he said before they went inside, the old building swallowing their dirty little secret.