Notes: I am so very sorry for the delay in updates. This is a Sushi chapter, and in traditional Sushi fashion, the last few months have been a cavalcade of allergens, bacteria, autoimmune fuckery-dickery, and the entire Helliday Season. Also, Seas came to visit for two weeks, and I was way more interested in cuddling and spoiling her than writing. ( ) But it eventually got done. Don't worry. I'm letting Seas take the reins for a while. I only hope this chapter is pornful and angst-tastic enough to make up for the delay. :D

"Awww!" Noah watched Theo leave with Phil, even as Feldman cuffed his hands behind his back. "Come on, Theo! You're missin' the fun!"

"I've seen enough of your ass for one night, kid. Have fun with your prison sex!"

"I can do that." Noah grinned back over his shoulder at Feldman. "You gonna use your nightstick on me, Officer?"

"Noah!" Danny attempted to cover Oreet's ears with his elbows and her eyes with his hands even as Feldman growled.

"What's prison sex?" Oreet said. "Is there kissing?"

Before Noah could answer, Feldman scruffed him. "Keep your mouth shut, Reisberg. You're in enough trouble."

Noah snorted as Feldman marched him out of the building. He called back over his shoulder, "Walk my dog for me, squirt! See ya tomorrow!"

"Bye, Noah, I'll walk Trayf and put bows on his ears and bring him home some dessert-"

The door cut off Oreet's voice, and Noah took a deep breath of suburban Boston air. It had cooled off a little, what with the sun starting to set, and Noah twitched to wander off. A lot of strays came out at night-not just him-and he was pretty sure he could finally get close enough to that tabby behind the Gas'n'Go to look at her funny eye-

He realized Feldman hadn't read his Miranda rights. Noah looked back at him, and yelped when the bastard yanked his hair.

"Fuckin' pig! Police brutality! Police brutality, Danny! I want my lawyer-"

"Just shut up, Noah. Get in the fucking car."

Noah sneered as Feldman unlocked his Jeep-a real Jeep, military surplus or something. Apparently, it was great for camping. Not that Noah had much camping to look forward to. He was just about due for some judge to send him away for a long time. The thought left him with a pit in his stomach. Yeah, it was inevitable, and it was sure as hell better than being drugged up in another psych ward, but that didn't mean he wanted to be bottom bitch to some guy named-

"Wake up!"

Noah flinched at Feldman's shout in his ear, and realized Feldman was. . . .

"Why're you takin' the cuffs off?" Noah rubbed his wrists, keeping his arms close to himself. He sidestepped, and Feldman manhandled him into the car and slammed the door.

Every instinct born of five years in juvie and more on the street screamed for Noah to run.

"Hey, man." Noah held up his hands as Feldman climbed in and buckled both of them in. "That was just a joke back there. I dunno what's goin' on here, but just take me in, okay? I know there were kids around. It was a shithead thing to do. Okay? We cool?"

Feldman only glared and pulled out into traffic.

Noah huddled into himself. He didn't dare look away from Feldman, nor did he try to jet. His hand shook as he reached into the rattiest part of his mohawk and pulled out the three joints he'd tucked away for later and set them on the dash.

"Look, that's all I got on me. I'm handin' it over, see?" He rubbed his nose with his wrist, feeling more and more like a cornered rabbit every second, and he couldn't help but laugh. "All I wanna do is go look at this cat I've been checkin' on, then I'll. . . ."

Noah trailed off as his heart started slamming against the inside of his chest. Fighting to breathe, he wrapped both arms over his head and squeezed his eyes shut. A burst of air hit him from Feldman's window, and he yelped-but the window closed before he could beg for one of his joints to calm him the fuck down. And just like Feldman had thrown out his weed, he'd killed off any hope Noah had of seeing freedom for a long, long, long time.

"No more of that shit at Hillel," Feldman said, and Noah whimpered.

"I need those."

He flinched when Feldman patted his shoulder.

It took a couple of minutes for Noah to realize they were going the wrong way-back towards Concord, away from Feldman's cop shop. He wondered if Feldman might drop him off at home, maybe with a slap on the wrist. The blazing hot ball of hope that lodged in Noah's chest made his lungs hurt. But maybe, just maybe, this one time Ha'Shem had decided Noah deserved a break-

He thought he was going to puke up his dinner when they pulled into Feldman's driveway.

"Hey." Feldman put a hand on Noah's shoulder as the garage door lifted. "You're shakin' like a leaf, kid."

"Don't hurt me." Noah squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't even care if he sounded like Reety getting her flu shot. Anywhere was better than here.

"Get inside."

Noah nodded, and tasted bile in his throat at just how spineless he really was. His hands slipped as he tried to unbuckle his seat belt, and all he could see in his head was his father, Robert Noah Reisberg, Asshole of Assholes, drawing back to punch him yet again.

Even that nearly knocked him down in a wave of guilt as he got out of the Jeep and smelled house paint and gunpowder, sawdust and age. Sure, he'd taken a few hundred beatings, but it was nothing, nothing compared to what Danny took in order to save Noah's pathetic ass.

The kitchen looked like it hadn't been redecorated since the '70s, all avocado and harvest gold. The whole ceiling glowed with long fluorescent bulbs, the nauseous reddish ones, and planted the seed of a headache in Noah's scalp. He rubbed his arm as Feldman opened the fridge.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Noah said, staring at the yellowed tile floor to keep away from the lights. He jumped when Feldman thrust a beer into his hand.

"Apart from save your ass from a sex offender conviction?" Feldman opened his own bottle, and Noah realized the bottles weren't screw-top. "It was either cuff ya and walk you out, or let Omer call the guys on duty. Want me to open that?"

Noah nodded, and flinched when Feldman pulled the cap off, again, with his naked hand. Feldman handed it back, and Noah stared at the bottle, wondering if he was going to wake up and be twelve again, bruised everywhere it didn't show and too fucking scared to call the cops. (After that shit, spending thirteen to eighteen in juvie psych was a Goddamn cake walk.)

"Noah?" Feldman snapped his fingers a few times, and Noah looked up. "You drinkin' that or makin' friends?"

So Noah did the only thing he could and chugged the whole thing.

Feldman narrowed his eyes. "You wanna go sit down? This isn't Theo's place, so don't expect top-of-the-line everything."

Noah nodded and hurried away from Feldman and his horrible kitchen. Around a corner, he found the living room, which seemed okay enough. TV, PlayStation, big couch for a big scary man. Lots of books, which was weird. Noah had never pictured Feldman with any kind of book, unless he was throwing it at someone-including quite a few of Noah's buds from his time in juvie, and after Danny kicked him out for toking in his room.

He spent a couple of minutes looking through the bookshelves. It helped him get his breath. Lots of thrillers, spy stuff, military stuff. A wall of science fiction-the hard kind, written by people with PhD's in rocket science. A bunch of T. D. Darrens: weirdly detailed historical novels with really awesome sex. Everyone at Hillel seemed to read the guy's stuff, though Theo called him a "best-seller hack." Noah figured his copies of the guy's books had historical corrections all over the margins.

"Or you can read something. That's cool, too."

Noah jumped and flattened his back against a bookcase. Feldman, standing in the doorway, lifted an eyebrow. He held a six-pack and a couple of bags of chips. Noah gulped and rubbed his eyes, so the back of his hand came back smeared with black eyeliner.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Feldman didn't even look at Noah as he flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. "Anything you wanna watch?"

Noah gripped the shelf behind him like he could climb it all the way to the clouds. "Why am I here?"

Feldman took a long drink of beer. "I didn't want you ending up in prison for trying to get my attention like some dumb kid. Believe me, you've had it."

"Whaddya mean, attention?"

Feldman glanced at Noah, then turned back to the TV. "I'd have to be brain-damaged not to notice you mentally undressing me for, what, nearly three years now? Even Bram's noticed, and he is brain-damaged."

"I haven't done anything to you." Noah bit his bottom lip. He knew damn well he'd spent every Friday night since he joined Hillel eyefucking Feldman, but eyefucking and being dragged to the guy's house weren't in the same ballpark. Fuck, they weren't even the same game.

"Yeah, well, you're full of shit. I think you showed me your ass 'cause you want me to get up in there."

Noah snorted and pulled a paperback off the shelf behind him so he'd have something to do with his hands. "So what? I sit down, you're all over me like schmaltz on Benny's cooking?"

"I'm not gonna touch you unless you touch me first. I've been around enough scared kids to know better." Feldman cracked another beer and held it out. "And I really did bring you here to keep you away from the guys on duty."

For what seemed like a long time, Noah watched Feldman. Feldman didn't move, only looked at him like he was one of the dogs-starved, beaten, with collars grown into their necks-that Noah rescued from yards in the darkest time of night.

Except Noah wasn't desperate for affection. He wasn't about to whine and lick Feldman's hand even as he flinched from a blow that might or might not come. Whatever he might be, whatever he'd done for money on the street, he wasn't about to roll over for any hand that scratched his ears instead of kicking him.

He set the book back on a shelf, and slunk forward to snatch his beer and sit as far from Feldman as he could. Feldman only picked up the remote and flipped through channels until he found Dead-Alive, then tossed the remote in the middle of the couch.

For a long time, Feldman watched and laughed and ate chips. Noah kept looking back and forth between the TV and Feldman. Even the goriest movie ever made wasn't enough to let him forget where he was. He dropped his attention to his full beer, and cringed when Feldman laughed at the top of his lungs.

"I thought that guy looked familiar." He pointed to one of the punks in the graveyard scene, then grinned at Noah. "Wash off the eyeliner, and you'd be a dead ringer."

Noah lifted an eyebrow, but took a good look. "Oh, fuck off. You need to get your eyes checked."

"I call 'em like I see 'em." Feldman held out his open bag of kettle chips. "Want some?"

Noah rolled his eyes, but stuffed his hand in the bag and grab a handful. Mouth full, he said, "If I look like that guy, you look like the naked guy in the chair in Jekyll. Y'know, if he was Jewish. And lost a fight with a meat grinder."

"Naked guy in a chair, huh?"

Noah threw some chips at Feldman. "Shut up."

The rest of the movie went a little faster than Noah expected. As it turned out, Feldman was pretty cool to watch gallons and gallons of blood with. Noah nearly shot beer out his nose when the guy started going, "Bow chikka bow bow," during the zombie sex scene, and they fucking high fived over the lawnmower. He didn't even get pissed off when Noah called him a pig for making him spill beer down his shirt laughing.

"I can put something else on," Feldman said over the credits.

Noah wanted to say yes-he really wanted to say yes. But he knew Feldman's type: all buddy-buddy 'til the next time your name turned up on a docket. He found Feldman watching him. His eyes were a lot bluer than they looked from the other side of Hillel. And his beard had a little more gray than he'd assumed. It looked good on him. Really good. Really, really fucking good. Which was saying something.

Noah, who prided himself on being an even bigger slut than Theo (if only because he wasn't picky about his partners having a dick), reminded himself: don't fuck cops. His buds had tried it before, and they ended up in a cell as usual, just labeled pigfuckers. It was a good way to get shivved.

"I gotta go."

Feldman lifted his eyebrows. "Wanna ride?"

Noah shook his head and hurried to neck back the last of his beer, only his third of the night-not counting the Goddamn syrupy Manischewitz Omer insisted on serving at Hillel.

Still, Feldman walked him to the door. "Pet that dumpster kitty for me."

Noah smiled, and left before he could second guess himself.

It felt a little weird, walking away from Feldman's place. "Goddamn cop," he muttered, hands in his jeans pockets. "You lookin' to get knifed?"

From the secret pocket he'd sewn inside the waist of his jeans, he pulled out his butterfly knife and whipped it around. It had saved his ass a few times in sketchy parts of town, and once at a rave when he'd hit on the wrong guy. Mostly, though, he used it to saw through leashes and collars, or painful clumps of fur, or plastic bags, like the one he'd found Trayf in when the little guy was just a puppy.

If he got picked up with the fucking thing again, he'd probably be away from home for five years, maybe more. Oreet would be, fuck, at least fifteen by the time he got back, and hopefully not getting it on with some asshole like Ma did. Danny would be disappointed; he'd told Noah a hundred times to throw it away, give it to Theo, something. But it kept him safe, and it had saved a lot of animals who were just as fucked up as he was.

Feldman would probably be pretty pissed if he knew about it.

Noah stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. It was about ten o'clock, he guessed. Oreet no doubt had a book with her in bed. Danny was probably online, maybe chatting with someone in his parenting support group. Or his other support group. Noah shivered in the warm June night.

He should have just punched Danny in the face and let Ma do her thing with him. Would've let Danny escape, and Noah had always been the disposable one. Their dad made sure everyone knew it, especially Noah.

He should've stuck around Feldman's. It felt weird that he hadn't gotten an uncomfortable hug. Or a goodnight kiss.

Tucking his knife back into its pocket, Noah turned around and dragged his feet back the way he'd come. He was no pigfucker, but there was no shame in stealing a little peck.

His mouth went dry as soon as he knocked. In fact, if the shrubs in front of Feldman's place hadn't been covered in inch-long thorns, Noah would have dived for cover and congratulated himself on a prank well done. His feet refused to move, and when Feldman opened the door-stripped out of his button-up from Hillel and wearing a T-shirt that left the most dangerous details to Noah's imagination-all Noah could do was stand there for a moment and work his mouth. Feldman cocked an eyebrow.

"When you were with Mossad." Noah's palms felt damp, and he stuck his hands back in his pockets. "Did. . . did you kick ass for the Lord?"

Feldman lifted both eyebrows and chuckled, almost a real laugh. "No, Israel."

"Oh."

"You come all the way back to ask me that? I thought Boaz was a pop culture junkie."

Noah shrugged. It had been a stupid idea, and now he'd made it even worse. Feldman folded his arms.

"You waiting for a goodnight kiss or something?"

"What if I am? You gonna take me in, piggy?"

"Nope." Feldman leaned against the doorframe. "You gotta make the first move, though."

"The fuck would you even want me to? You're just gonna harass me about something next week."

To Noah's wary surprise, Feldman looked at the ground. "Come on, Reisberg. You're smarter than those shitheads you hang out with. Gentler, kinder, funnier. Should I go on?"

Noah managed not to back away. "You wanna fuck me?"

"Yeah. But only if you do, too."

"You wanna fuck every armed criminal that comes to your house?" Noah pulled out his knife and flipped it open.

Feldman held out his hand.

Noah watched him. Feldman watched him in return. There wasn't a Goddamn thing to stop him hauling Noah in on assault charges. One of Noah's buds was in Cedar Junction for assaulting a cop, and he only managed to smash up the chick's car with a brick. A knife? At the door to Casa Bacon?

Feldman held his hand steady, palm up, like he was offering something.

Noah closed his knife, and dropped it in Feldman's hand.

"You call this a balisong? Whatever you paid, you got ripped off." Feldman looked the knife over, then tucked it in his back pocket. "You wanna come in?"

Noah shook his head. "Uh. See you next Friday, I guess."

"Yeah. See you then."

Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit, he was chickening out. One kiss goodnight, that's all Noah wanted, so what happened? He handed over his knife and. . . .

Feldman caught the doorframe when Noah took his face and kissed him. Noah pulled back, his lips damp and his heart pounding for more, and would have laughed at Feldman's stupid stare if he wasn't determined to run the three blocks home and jack off like a teenager.

He caught Feldman around the neck when the man kissed him, a long, slow, sweet kiss that grew a little deeper every time Noah thought he'd caught his breath. It finally broke, and Noah stared up at him, balanced on his toes, his ancient sneakers threatening to slip on the tiled step.

"Was-was that goodnight?" he said, gazing into Feldman's dilated eyes.

"Do you want it to be?"

Feldman's husky voice sent a quiver through Noah, and he shook his head. So Feldman kissed him again, and Noah returned it while Feldman picked him up by the waist and shut the door. Noah found himself pressed against it. He dug his nails into Feldman's back and shoulder, doing all he could to not just rub off as Feldman kissed his neck, heavy brown beard thick and coarse. He squeezed Noah's ass. Noah whined.

"Couch or bed?" he whispered, and Feldman hoisted him up so Noah could wrap both legs around his waist, and carried him down the hall to the most boring bedroom Noah had ever seen.

"You get your decorating tips from Cheap Larry's By-the-Hour?" he said as he looked around at the white walls and brown carpet and beige bedspread and curtains. He yelped when Feldman threw him on the bed.

"Mind your manners," Feldman said as he pulled off his T-shirt.

Noah usually would've argued that lack of taste was ruder than calling someone on it, but he bit his bottom lip and paid attention to Feldman's abs and chest and, Goddamn, his shoulders. He gripped the ugly bedspread beneath him, hands itching to explore the graying hair on Feldman's front, and the thick, dark trail running into his jeans. While Theo transcended the human-Sasquatch divide (as Noah had been horrified to learn the first time they hooked up), Feldman was damn near what Noah whacked off to when he didn't have a girl in mind.

Feldman smirked and put his (dear God) arms out. "You like the view, then."

"Uh-huh." Noah was pretty sure he sounded like an idiot, but it seemed minor next to leaning back on his elbows, watching his favorite cheesecake in the flesh.

When Feldman touched him to strip him of his shirt, Noah screamed like a little girl.

"Hey, hey!" Feldman held up his hands. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Noah. The hell was that?"

"Uh. Sorry." Noah pulled his knees to his chest. "I thought you were just gonna stand there, I think."

"The hell would I do that? It kills the point."

Noah shrugged. He looked up to see Feldman watching him. Feldman held out a hand for a moment, then cupped Noah's face. Noah held as still as he could. Feldman only stroked his eyebrow.

"You ever consider braiding these things?"

Noah laughed. "I tried once. Rather let 'em dread, but they won't."

Feldman snorted, then kissed Noah's eyebrows. It was a weird sensation. And it let Feldman grab the hem of Noah's T-shirt before Noah had a chance to jump.

"You don't really seem like someone who'd do well in an anarchic state," Feldman said as he pulled it over Noah's head. He pushed him back on the bed, and Noah couldn't help but moan when Feldman pinned him by the shoulders. Feldman cocked an eyebrow. "Kinky."

"You have no idea."

Noah quivered all over when Feldman growled and ran both hands down his chest. He squeezed Noah's nipples, and Noah arched into it, gasping.

"Surprised these aren't pierced," Feldman said.

"Tried once. Oh, fuck! Harder!" Noah moaned when Feldman twisted his grip back and forth. He ran his thumbs over Feldman's abs, and could have stayed there for a long time if he hadn't let them drift to his jeans. "Please?"

Feldman growled and kissed him. Noah kissed back, teeth and tongue as much as lips, and whimpered in response to Feldman's growls and low grunts. Feldman slid his fingers through Noah's chest hair and tugged, and Noah wrapped both legs around him and yanked them together.

"The fuck you waiting for?" Feldman said against Noah's mouth. Noah took the hint and unbuttoned Feldman's fly, though he stopped there. A nervous little voice inside him insisted he was about to fuck a pig, and pigfuckers never ended well.

"Hey," Feldman said after most of a minute. He drew back and frowned, and felt Noah's forehead. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Don't gimme that shit. What's wrong?"

Ryan. Nathan. Ismael. Wayne. DeLyon. Pigfuckers all. Shanked in some cell or other and left to bleed. Noah'd sent condolence cards to Nathan and DeLyon's parents, even though they'd never met, and got emails back both times, their parents shocked that anyone who'd known their sons would give enough of a shit to think of them.

Noah looked at Feldman. "You know what happens to pigfuckers?"

He cringed on instinct. Instead of yelling or slapping him or whatever, though, Feldman just looked sad. Noah went still when Feldman hugged him.

"Do I gotta keep you on a leash? You're not goin' back."

"The fuck do you know? And nothin's keeping me out of psych hell. Fuck me up on tranqs for three days, then put me on meds they keep insisting work just fine, but I can't remember my Goddamn name. Maybe that's how they know it's working."

Noah wrinkled his nose. He shouldn't have said anything about the nuthouse. Bad enough to be a criminal without being a fucking psycho.

Feldman looked pained, and lowered his voice. "Who the hell convinced you you're worthless?"

Noah lifted an eyebrow. "Robert Reisberg."

Feldman grunted. "Your father was a piece of work. Suicide by cop, my ass."

"His name was Robert Noah. I'm Noah Robert."

Feldman drew back and stared. His fingers tightened on Noah's shoulders, though he looked more or less as vaguely pissed off as he ever did.

"What the fuck," he finally said. "Why didn't he just put a sign on your crib that said, 'Angel of Death, stop here'?"

Noah shrugged. Goddamn naming traditions. Feldman took his chin and kissed him, then stripped out of the rest of his clothes and pushed Noah back against the pillows and stretched out on top of him, strong and broad and heavy, and hard and safe all over.

"You're not a pigfucker," Feldman said against his mouth. "You're just fucking me."

"Feldman-"

"Dwight."

"Dwight-"

"Just go with it, okay?"

Noah closed his eyes. He couldn't ignore the insistence of Feldman's-Dwight's?-lips on his, or the soft rasp of his beard and the scratch of the trimmed ends of his mustache. All ten of Noah's fingertips rested against Dwight's sides. The muscle there moved with harsh breaths and both of their efforts to press closer. Noah slid his fingers around to Dwight's back, and tightened both his arms when Dwight whimpered for more.

"I'm cool with whatever," Noah said in his ear, and Dwight looked into his eyes.

"Whatever whatever?"

"Yeah. Just, like, warn me if you're gonna cut me. Anything like that."

He winced inside when Dwight just looked sad. Dwight kissed Noah and sat up.

"Get your clothes off and turn over. I'll be right back."

Noah only wondered for a second what he'd gotten himself into before he stripped down and got on his stomach. Well, Dwight was a nice enough guy. And, with luck, Noah'd get a good, hard fuck out of it, too.

He was still getting settled when Dwight came back with a roll of plastic wrap.

"You know, foil does a better job of preserving your victims against freezerburn," Noah said.

"Shut up." Dwight got on his hands and knees next to Noah and zerberted the shaved part of his head. Noah yelped.

"It's not funny!" He rubbed his tingling scalp while Dwight laughed. "Dick!"

"That's Officer Dick, Reisberg."

Noah flinched. Dwight broke off laughing with a forced cough. He sat back on his knees and opened a drawer on the Ikea-standard bedside table.

"Sorry, Noah." He poked through the drawer with one hand and rubbed Noah's back with the other, which helped more than Noah expected. "Just get comfy, okay?"

Noah watched for a few moments as Dwight-Officer Dwight-considered a couple of bottles of lube, and finally turned his head to face the windows. They made him feel a little better. He could sneak out later and maybe pretend nothing had ever happened. There came the crinkle of condom wrappers, and Noah closed his eyes and smiled. A good, hard fuck fixed most things for a little while.

Dwight nudged Noah's legs apart. Noah rubbed his face against the pillowcase, which smelled like it had been slept on for three or four nights, as Dwight knelt between his knees and kneaded Noah's ass.

"Doesn't anybody feed you?" Dwight reached down and pinched Noah's hipbone.

"Yeah. Local jail's got great powdered eggs."

Dwight grunted, and to Noah's surprise kissed the small of his back. "I'll make you some real ones in the morning, if you wanna stick around."

Noah looked back over his shoulder. "The hell?"

Dwight looked unimpressed. "I didn't say you have to."

"I. . . people don't usually. . . ." Noah trailed off and buried his face in the pillow again. Smooth. No wonder he always had Cheerios in strawberry milk with Oreet.

He jumped when Dwight kissed his ass. While he'd certainly spent his share of time imagining cops and CO's doing that very thing, none of them ever gave him a little nuzzle with it in his imagination-or ran both hands up his back 'til he groaned. A boulder of tension seemed to evaporate from his shoulder blades, and he shivered as Dwight cupped his sides and drew both hands to his hips, still kissing here and there on both cheeks.

"Oh, God," Noah said.

"Hmph. If you don't keep saying that, I'm losing my touch."

"Don't flatter yourself, donut breath."

"Do I need to put the cuffs on you?"

Noah pressed back for more. Dwight's growling voice made his skin tingle, and for the first time ever, the thought of a cop putting him in cuffs made him writhe and spread his legs wider. He yelped when Dwight pinned his wrists on the pillow, but it broke to a whimper.

"Huh." Dwight licked the back of Noah's neck, and Noah moaned. "Gonna have to remember that."

Noah whimpered until he trembled all over as Dwight licked all the way down his spine and resumed squeezing and kissing his ass. Here and there, he tugged a hair or two with his teeth and made Noah suck air through his teeth. Noah dug his fingers into the bed beneath his pillow when Dwight spread his cheeks.

"Doesn't that look inviting?" Dwight chuckled, and Noah pictured him grinning like he had a whole table full of desserts. Noah braced himself for a couple of fingers, or maybe just his dick. It was hard to tell what guys were into sometimes.

"Hey." Dwight rubbed Noah's lower back. "Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I don't mind."

Dwight sighed and rubbed his thumbs at the base of Noah's spine. "How old're you again? Twenty-four-ish?"

"Twenty-six." Noah nearly twisted away when Dwight worked both hands under his stomach. "Hey! The fuck you doin'?"

Dwight rested his bald head just below the nape of Noah's neck. His hands felt monstrous and warm, pressed flat again the most vulnerable part of Noah's body. Noah'd seen a couple of people with knife wounds in the gut, one dead, one alive. His abs, what there was of them, jerked and pulled, trying to both protect him and push away the intruder.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Noah." Dwight spoke at little more than a whisper, like Noah did when he found a stray with a hurt paw or broken tail. "If you still want this, say something. Unless you just want a dick up your ass. I don't play that game."

Noah turned to stare. "I'm not your boyfriend."

"Good. Fuckin' overgrown punk." Dwight rubbed Noah's belly. "I expect a little affection. You'd better be prepared to put up with some, too. I don't do this with just anyone."

"You callin' me a slut?"

"No."

Noah blinked. "Why not?"

Dwight leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Noah went still-Dwight should'a kicked him out as soon as he started getting difficult. He wondered just how much of his shit Dwight was willing to put up with to get laid.

"Go on," Noah said after a few quiet moments, and put his head on his folded arms. Dwight kissed his neck, and Noah tilted his head to give him more skin.

"Mm, that's nice," Dwight said. He kissed and sucked Noah's neck all along his pulse. Noah closed his eyes. He moaned when Dwight bit him.

"You like that, huh?"

"Yeah. Do it again?"

Dwight did, a few times, and even nipped his earlobe around its plug. Noah yelped when Dwight pinched his nipple.

"It's okay! It's okay. I'm not-"

"You surprised me. Fuck, squeeze."

Dwight did until Noah though his nipple would pop off. Noah tipped his head back, panting, and whimpered when Dwight bit his shoulder hard enough to burn.

"Please. . . ," Noah whispered.

"Want me to bite you again?"

Noah shook his head and pressed back with his ass. Dwight's grip on him tightened, so he did it again.

"What do you like?" Noah said, looking back over his shoulder.

"Everything I've seen so far." Dwight pinched both his nipples and sat back, dragging both hands over Noah's skin. "Anything you don't like? Besides knives, which I'm not into."

Noah shrugged. He could get into or put up with pretty much anything, and in a worst case scenario, he could always whine until he got a blowjob. He gasped when Dwight bit his asscheek.

"Gimme a sec," Dwight said against the bite marks, and drew away. Noah whimpered, and yelped when Dwight smacked his ass. "I said gimme a sec."

"Gimme a spanking!"

"You probably deserve one." Dwight landed another hot blow that left Noah clinging to the bed and panting for more. He held on there, listening as Dwight ripped off a piece of plastic wrap.

"Not on my face," Noah whispered. "Please. I don't like it."

"That just means you don't have a death wish."

"Dad woke me up with pillows on my face."

The rustle of plastic paused, and Dwight rested his hand on the small of Noah's back.

"Noah, I promise I'll never deliberately do anything like that to you. Swear on Ha'Shem."

Noah nodded. Something about Dwight's voice felt trustworthy. Dwight squeezed his stinging ass until Noah moaned, then rubbed. . . uh. . . .

"Are you putting Saran Wrap on my ass?"

"Yep." Dwight wiggled it around with a finger, and Noah dug his fingers into the bed as it slipped on a warm layer of lube. Before he recovered enough to loosen his grip, Dwight spread his cheeks, and touched him again. But not with his finger. Or his dick.

"Oh, fuck!" Noah bared his teeth. Nobody'd ever rimmed him before, and the wicked tickle combined with the stretch of Dwight pulling his cheeks apart-never mind the knowledge of just what was going on-had him jamming his dick against the bed.

"Hey, careful." Dwight worked his slippery hand under Noah and closed it around his dick. "One of us might want to use that later."

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come!" With touch, with words, with pure kindness. Noah looked back, and got a grin that made him bite his lip and break out into even more of a sweat. Dwight ducked his head, and Noah keened at the novel pressure of a bearded chin sliding up and down his crack on a thin layer of lubed plastic. "Don't stop!"

In the ugly bedside lamp's yellowish light, Dwight looked feral, and more olive-skinned than he really was. He pressed his chin behind Noah's balls and stuck his tongue out for more teasing. Noah clamped both arms over his head and panted. He became more and more aware of his embarrassing moans-noises a virgin would make-but he couldn't help it. Dwight had a tongue like a seasoned lesbian (as Noah could verify, thanks to a good rave and some truly sick E).

"Stop or I'll come!" Noah said before he bit his pillow and willed himself not to hump the bed-not that his body listened. Dwight, pig bastard, just pulled Noah's cheeks wider and wiggled his tongue from side to side.

"Fucker!" was the last thing Noah got out before he set to grinding against the ugly bedspread and focusing on Dwight's chin against his taint and tongue working against his freshness-wrapped ass.

He came, his whole body turning electric and thrusting back on Dwight's tongue. The pillow between his teeth felt like shitty polyester blend, but, oh, fuck, it was fleeting, and Dwight didn't stop. He kept licking, and Noah kept fucking back, zings shooting through his torso and his dick still trying to squirt while his fingers and toes went weak. Noah ground against his mouth when his dick got too sensitive to go on, and he had the fleeting thought that this was what women got when he went down on them.

"Shit, keep goin'," he whispered when Dwight kissed his ass-God, all the times-and wadded up the plastic wrap.

"Yeah, and kill ya?" Dwight rubbed Noah's lower back, then crawled to the side of the bed and reached down to fumble somewhere until he brought up a bottle of scotch. He rubbed a palmful over his lips, then swished some around his mouth and swallowed, before he came back and pulled Noah to his chest, wet spot and all.

"The fuck you doin'?" Noah drew lazy patterns along Dwight's collarbone with his nose. "You're s'posed to fuck me and kick me out."

"Why'd I wanna do that?" Dwight lifted Noah's face with a knuckle under his chin. Noah whimpered against his lips and tongue. The only thing demanding about it, though, was Dwight's hard-on against his thigh.

"You wanna fuck me?" Noah said against Dwight's lips, an arm around his neck.

"Yeah. Thought you'd wanna get some rest, though."

"But you got a-"

"I'm a big boy. I can wait."

#

Noah jerked awake. A haze of sweat clothed his naked body, and the air stank of semen. Oh, God, where was he? Why was he lying on a cheap bedspread? And how much money was waiting for him on the nightstand?

Not again. Not again, not again, not again. He hadn't done this shit in years.

A mumble caught his panic, and he froze when a large man slung a muscular arm over him. He struggled to remember where he left his pants, and thus his knife, and took the man's wrist to ease him off-

"Noah? Y'kay?"

Noah recognized Feldman's voice-Dwight's voice-through his sleepy slurring, and hugged himself. The dim room looked like a suburban version of an hourly motel, where everything could be washed, or would burn like a tire fire with one misplaced cigarette. Motherfucker. Dwight had no idea how close he'd come to a dislocated elbow.

Noah slid free. Dwight let him, but said, awake this time, "What's wrong?"

"Bad dream."

"You wanna cuddle?"

Noah went still. Hell, just hearing Dwight "I Am The Law" Feldman say the word "cuddle" was enough to stop him. He turned over to look at Dwight, who watched him in the gray light breaking over the top of the curtains. If Noah still believed anyone could give a shit, he'd think Dwight was worried about him.

"The hell is wrong with you, dude?" Noah leaned up on his elbow and scratched his head so he wouldn't do something stupid, like take Dwight's hand or snuggle up. "You've seen my rap sheet, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then what am I doin' here?"

Dwight rolled on his back and folded his hands on his chest. "Eh. You're cute and funny, and you're kind of a goofy asshole. I'm not attracted to a lot of people. Figured it was worth a shot."

Noah stared, his lip curling in a sneer. A lot of things he could say went through his head, including, "This is the only way you can get laid?" and, "Can I have a hug?" He finally lowered his head-and caught a glimpse of the alarm clock from the corner of his eye.

"Shit!" When did it get to be three thirty in the morning? Noah crawled down the bed and started groping in the dark for his clothes. He cringed from the bedside lamp's glare.

"Hey! Hey." Dwight sat up and put out a hand as Noah pulled on his jeans. "It's okay. I'm not tryin' to scare-"

"I gotta walk Trayf before he shits on the floor." Noah looked at Dwight, and grabbed his shirt. "Danny's gonna give him away if he does it again-"

"Danny's all sound and fury."

"Bullshit. It's not your fucking dog-"

"Oreet says Trayf's a good boy. If Danny really goes through with it, how 'bout I take him? You can even take care of him for me, no strings attached."

Noah peered through the neck of his T-shirt, his arms caught over his head. Dwight only watched him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a pillow in his lap. Noah remembered himself and yanked his shirt down.

"Yeah, maybe." As much as he had no intentions of giving Trayf to anyone, much less Dwight Feldman, it warmed him inside to hear it, like eating too much vindaloo. Which usually meant he was gonna be sick. He grabbed his sneakers.

"You comin' back later?" Dwight said.

Noah looked back, ready to say no. It died on his tongue at Dwight's hopeful stare and restless fingers. He watched Dwight tap his knee for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what was going on.

"You lookin' to get laid?"

"Wouldn't say no. I was kinda hoping to take you to breakfast, though. Unless you wanna cook. I'd make you those eggs, but I only know how to fry 'em brown and crunchy."

Noah wrinkled his nose. "How the hell have you managed to live alone?"

"Microwave lasagna and frozen pizza."

"Ew." If there was one thing his life had done right, it'd taught Noah how to cook. "What if I wanna stay home and fix myself an omelet with gruyère or some fancy shit like that?"

Dwight closed his eyes. "Oh, Jesus, that sounds good." He laughed. "Throw in some spinach and bacon?"

"That's gotta be the trayf-est thing I've ever heard anyone say. On Shabbat, too!"

"Never expected you to keep kosher."

"Pfft." Noah put his shoes on without tying them. "Later, oinky."

At home, Noah disabled the security system from outside-a little hack Danny still hadn't caught onto-and crept upstairs to his room. He found the usual rumpled bed and lingering sweet, skunky hint of weed smoked while leaning out his window, but no sign of Trayf, which meant he could only be one other place.

Indeed, when Noah peeked into Oreet's room, Trayf lifted his head from where it rested on her blanketed foot. He thumped his tail against the mattress, but stayed where he was. Really, he was her dog-she'd even named him. ("Are dogs kosher?" Danny said when Noah first brought Trayf home, and Oreet jumped up and down, shouting, "No, he's trayf!") Noah sat on the corner of the bed so as not to disturb them, and scratched Trayf's head around the blue bows tied to his ears.

"You need to go out, funny boy? Yeah, you need to go out," he said when Trayf grinned, front teeth and all, like the dork of a dog he was.

"Noah?" Oreet rubbed her eyes. Noah caught her as she lunged down the bed to hug him. "You busted out of the joint! We need to get you to a safe house."

"Wasn't in jail, squirt." Noah squeezed her, and it felt both right and wrong. "Feldman just gave me a lecture on not flashin' people. It was a stupid thing to do."

"Yeah. I don't want you locked up again." She sat on the bed in front of him. "How long a lecture did you get?"

"Not long. We ended up watching a movie. I fell asleep on his couch."

"Oh. 'Cause you smell like you do after you go on a date-"

"I gotta walk Trayf. Go to bed."

Oreet looked solemn. "I think you should go on another date with Officer Feldman. He's nice, and he laughs a lot when he doesn't have to be scary." She rested her chin in her hand. "He might make you less sad."

"Who says I'm anything?"

Oreet fell quiet, and so did Noah. Trayf rested his chin on Noah's knee and flopped his tail on the My Little Pony sheets. Oreet had a million of the things, though her favorite (and Danny's least favorite) was the one Noah had painted up in fishnets and eyeliner. She might turn out cool yet-

"Danny says that when you go away for more than a couple of days, you're usually in a hospital."

That. Well, she was gonna learn sometime. "Oh. Yeah. Your brother's crazy, squirt. You know Dwight Feldman's not some cure-all knight in shining armor, right?"

"Yeah. But he doesn't suck."

Noah bit his lip before he could correct her and completely destroy her innocence (though Danny had kept her a five-year-old for nearly six years now, and it was about time to destroy some of it). Besides, how the hell was a kid her age supposed to understand the difference between shitty meds that turned his brain to wet cotton, and a joint or some scammed Oxycodone? If he hooked up with a cop, he might as well take another knife to his wrists. Between the shitbags they'd gotten for parents, and Danny and the plank up his ass, the last thing Noah wanted to do was leave Oreet on her own.

"I gotta take Trayf out," he said as he hugged her. She always hugged back, and as usual, it was one of the few things that made him smile without any effort. "Go to sleep, kiddo. I'll leave you the Cocoa Puffs."

"Yay!"

Noah winced at the shriek in his ear, then tucked her in. They'd only really known each other a little under three years-and she would never know what he spent the previous few years doing-but she was already the best person Noah knew. He kissed her forehead, then smudged her with eyeliner to make her giggle, and took Trayf to the backyard to run around for a while.

While Trayf trotted around and sniffed and managed to trip over his back legs, Noah leaned against the side of the house, in the shadows beside Danny's study window.

"Sad, my ass," he said for no-one to hear.

Anxious and panicky, yeah. Twitchy. But that kept him alive. Impulsive. Dangerously impulsive, sometimes, like the time he went train surfing. Two friends lost their heads that night, but he limped away with nothing worse than a hairline fracture. A little bipolar, maybe, which was why he kept getting locked up and put on fucking useless meds. And there was that whole PTSD thing, but Danny was the one who should have been screwed sideways. So why did everything have to be him?

Noah closed his eyes and, despite himself, wished Dwight was there. He was big and warm and safe, and he knew all about Noah's track record, but treated him like a person anyway. It was weird as hell, but kinda nice.

Trayf pawed at Noah's leg and whined. Noah smirked at him.

"You poop where Danny'll step in it? Good boy!"

Noah followed him upstairs, now and then getting battered in the leg with a wagging tail. Trayf, however, walked past Noah's room. Noah called him, but Trayf only looked back and hurried to take his place at the foot of Oreet's bed. Noah stood in her doorway, staring at Trayf, who watched him, thumping his tail.

"The hell, man?" Noah and Trayf always slept together when Noah was home. "You dumping me?"

Trayf chuffed and curled up tight. Oreet muttered something about a robot and turned in her sleep. Her clock read 4:14. Too early to get up, too late to get any sleep.

And Noah didn't really want to be alone.

"You're a fucking idiot, Nori," he said as he slunk downstairs, hands in his pockets. Everyone in juvie had called him that, and he'd long since wished he could stop answering to it without thinking. Stupid kid, stupid name. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He felt better as soon as he set foot outside. A couple of seconds to set the alarm at his hack point, and Noah hauled himself over the fence and into Gloria Layman's backyard. It was a decent shortcut across the neighborhood, and got him to Dwight's place in three minutes instead of ten.

He stopped short of Dwight's patio, with its ugly iron furniture. The kitchen windows shone with all the wattage a whole ceiling of fluorescent bulbs could put forth. He hadn't turned the lights on, though. Noah wiped his sweaty palms on his sides and took a deep breath-

The back door opened, and Dwight leaned out, wearing plaid pants and a "Fuck the Police (We're Hot)" T-shirt. He motioned to Noah with his cup of coffee.

"Get the hell in here. How long's it take a dog to shit, anyway?"

"As long as it takes." Noah shuffled a little closer, feeling like a little kid who should have picked some flowers. "Squirt said I need to go on another date with you."

Dwight lifted his eyebrows. "That was a date?"

"S'what she said."

"Wanna make it a breakfast date?"

Noah grinned. "You sure you know what you're getting into? I'm loco, man."

Dwight grinned back. "I handled the PLO. I think I can handle you."

With a laugh, Noah sauntered inside. Dwight caught him and pulled him into a tight hug.

Noah flinched. An instant stretched like an hour, and Dwight drew back to look into Noah's eyes.

"You'll get there." He squeezed Noah's shoulder. "You're strong. Maybe the strongest person I know."

Noah opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn't find the words. He'd said them a thousand times, but they were gone. It took him a few minutes to realize that, for the first time in his life, he believed it. He was strong. He was worth something to someone, not just Oreet, even if it only came to a movie, some breakfast, and a fucking amazing lay.

Dwight squeaked when Noah kissed him, but he went along with it quickly enough. He grinned when Noah pulled back.

"So," Noah said, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk. "What about that breakfast?"

Notes: Poor Noah. Fuck the modern world!