Erik flopped down on Steve's sofa, watching as the man locked the door behind them and hung up his coat.

Steve had first approached him several months before; one of the millions of men Erik had sold his body to for the night. Erik had, of course, expected Steve to be just the same as every other man and had been intent on getting down to business so he could get paid and leave. Some people (including most of Erik's clients) seemed to think that just because Erik was gay meant that he must love selling his body to every socially impaired, gay pedophile in the city, letting them rape him however they pleased and not giving a damn how he felt about it. It never seemed to occur to them that having some guy old enough to be his grandfather ripping up his ass until he thought he might pass out from the pain (or maybe just from blood loss) was not a fun time whether Erik preferred girls, boys, or hermaphrodites.

But when Steve had brought him into his house, he hadn't even fucked him. Not the first time. The first time, he'd just talked to Erik and given him a sandwich and had ended the night giving Erik a surprisingly gentle kiss, twenty dollars, and a teddy bear. He had found Erik a few days later and brought him back to his house. They had eaten dinner and talked, Steve asking him questions about his favorite food and what he thought of various singers. Then Steve had kissed him, as tenderly as before, handed him another twenty and said goodnight.

The third time, Steve had taken Erik out for dinner and then to a movie. After the movie, they had gone to Steve's apartment and Steve had made Erik some hot chocolate. Steve had held Erik on his lap and kissed him. Then he had asked if Erik would like to sleep in the couch since it was snowing out. Steve had gotten him some blankets and a pillow and then left Erik to sleep, but Erik had woken during the night to find Steve standing in the doorway of his room, watching Erik with a look if lust.

The next morning, Steve had suggested that Erik go take a shower. He had made them some breakfast while Erik washed and let Erik borrow some clothes he had had lying around (which had fit amazingly well, given that Steve was hardly his size). Then Steve had given him another twenty and he had left.

The fourth time, Steve had taken him shopping for some new clothes and then bought them both some ice cream. They had come back to Steve's apartment. There they had talked and then played video games until they got hungry and Steve made dinner. After dinner, they had slept together and in the morning, Steve had made breakfast and given Erik thirty dollars.

From then on, Steve had brought Erik to his apartment every few days. Sometimes they would see a movie or go to a theme park or get ice cream. Other times they would just hang out and talk or play video games at Steve's house. Then they would eat dinner and make love and in the morning, Steve would make breakfast and pay him.

Erik had even started talking to Steve about his past, telling him things he hadn't told anyone else. Steve had listened as he told the man about how he had come out to his uncle and his uncle had then gone off and outed him to his parents. To say that his father hadn't taken it well would be a gross understatement. His father had initially just attempted to beat it out of him. When that hadn't worked he had begun locking Erik in his room or starving him. At first, Erik's siblings had just tried to ignore it. His sister had even tried to stick up for him, once. Their father had responded by having the entire family shun her until she attacked Erik, attempting to kill him. After that, she had learned that if their father was ever angry with her, all she had to do was be cruel to Erik and their father would forgive her anything. Their mother had simply watched, smiling as Erik's father and sister became more and more creative in torture, frequently seeming to have forgotten why they were hurting him in the first place. His brother had attempted to restrain their father, arguing that if anyone found out what they were doing, it would mean trouble. On the rare occasion that for some reason his brother decided to hurt him, he always made sure they were alone and always ended by telling Erik that if he told anyone, anyone, even their father, he would kill Erik and he would make it look like an accident. A few times his brother had convinced his parents to take Erik to the hospital, because he was that badly hurt and if he died, they would get in trouble. He had told their mother and sister to cry and look upset or else and when Erik had come to, he had been waiting so his brother had been waiting to tell him the story he had spun to explain Erik's injuries and threaten that if Erik said anything else, his brother would kill him and make it look like an accident.

Steve had listened, trembling with anger when Erik described what exactly his family had done to him. It had been almost five months before his mother had intervened, quietly telling Erik that if he packed his things and left now, she would keep his father from following him.

Steve was the only other person who knew anything other than that his parents had kicked him out after he came out to them. They didn't know that his mother had been abusing him and his siblings for years while his father just watched helplessly. They didn't know that his uncle had all but forced him to come out to him and then turned around and outed him to his family after promising he wouldn't tell anyone. They didn't know that his father and siblings had spent almost five months torturing him before he had run away. They didn't know any of it. He had only ever told Steve. And when he had finished, Steve had held him as he cried, stroking his hair and comforting him. Then Steve had promised to never, ever betray him like that.

Now it had been almost five months since they had first met and Erik had long since decided that Steve was one of the few people in the world he could truly trust.

"Want some pizza?" Steve offered.

"Sure."

Erik watched Steve through the doorway as the man set about heating the pizza. Steve was probably among the nicer looking of Erik's clients. He had short cut, ruddy brown hair and kind, soft brown eyes. Erik wasn't sure how old the man was, but he looked young enough. In his early thirties maybe, though something about him made him seem much older. He was strong and fit, though not overly muscular. Today he was wearing a green turtleneck and black pants. They looked good on him.

Erik couldn't remember ever being attracted to one of his clients before. Oh sure, he had liked some better than others, but he had never actually been attracted to one before. But Steve wasn't like the other men. Steve was kind and gentle and caring.

"Thirsty?" Steve asked.

Erik nodded.

"What would you like?"

Erik tilted his head, thinking. "A few million dollars might be nice."

Steve laughed. "To drink, smart ass."

"Hmmm… beer?"

"You're only twelve and this is the U.S. Try again."

Erik laughed. He had never understood why Steve would happily sleep with him, despite his being somewhat underage, but refused to let him drink, saying that he was too young. But Steve was paying him to do this and no matter how much he enjoyed his time with Steve or how casual Steve acted, Erik could never forget that. "How about some Pepsi?"

"Sure." Steve came into the living room with two bottles of soda and the pizza.

They ate and talked, Erik telling Steve about his old friends, from before his parents had disowned him. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to Steve. He felt like he could tell the man anything. Perhaps, had he met Steve a year ago – when he was still living with his parents – that might have alarmed Erik. But now it was just nice to have someone he could talk to and the man's motives really didn't matter.

"Oh, I bought you something... for your birthday," Steve told him as they finished eating. "It's in the closet. You want to go get it?"

Erik got up and walked over to the closet. "Where is it?"

"On the floor somewhere. It's in a box."

Erik pushed the coats out of the way. There it was, a square box wrapped in black paper all the way at the back of the closet. Something fell as he pulled it out. Something long, thin and heavy. He picked it up and stared. A sword, sheathed in a black, leather scabbard.

"Erik?" Steve called. "Did you find it?"

Something he had heard, just the other day, flashed through his mind. "They found the poor kid's body. Headless, like it had been cut off with a sword, just like the others. But who goes around with a sword anymore? And this is the fourth headless kid we've turned up in one month."

Erik swallowed, turning around. "What's this?" he asked.

"What... oh. That." Steve sighed. "It's a sword. My sword."

"Why do you have a sword?"

Steve sighed. "It's a long story," he told the boy, getting up and taking the sword from Erik. He put it away in the closet and brought the box over to the couch.

Erik followed him. "I heard... I some kids were killed, just recently... beheaded... by a sword."

Steve nodded. "And?"

Erik took a deep breath, wondering if he was about to meet the same fate as those other kids. But at least Steve had put the sword away. That had to be a good sign, right? "Did... did you..."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I killed them."

Erik stared at the man. "But... but why?"

Steve caught his hands, looking him in the eye. "You have to understand. They were sick. They would have died anyway, and it would have been a much worse death."

"And… am I sick? Is that why you've done all this for me?"

"No. No, you're strong and healthy," Steve said, pulling Erik closer. "I did all this for you because you deserve it. You deserve to be happy and live a good, long life. And because I love you." Steve held the boy close, stroking his hair and Erik leaned his head against the man's chest.

"Okay," he whispered, looking up at Steve. "I trust you."

A/N: Thanks to everyone who commented. pHbalance: Thanks so much! Orange: Thanks for editing this, even tho you've never even seen the show... I'll be updating pretty regularly, and I've even added a bit to the sequel :D