by Hank Edwards
(06/29/05)

I walk out of the courthouse with Steve and we both gasp at the sting of the bitter wind.

"Fuck!" Steve shouts. His expletive echoes off the concrete and steel which make up downtown Detroit. "Holy shit, it's cold!"

We start down the steps and Steve begins to talk fast, his words running together in his excitement. He is the newest member of our group of public defenders and, as he is not yet jaded, the most energetic. He has not yet been told by one of his young clients to go fuck himself, nor has his life been threatened because he lost a case. Steve is in his late 20s and athletically handsome. He seeks me out often for questions and idle talk and I'm unsure what to make of it.

"Man, I just nailed that closing today," Steve says and pumps his fist in the air.

Infected by his energy, I let out a laugh and find myself lost for a moment in memories of my own triumphs when I had first begun work as a public defender.

We come to a stop at the sidewalk and Steve turns to me, his eyes bright as the wind pushes his hair back. "Want to get a drink?" he asks.

I avert my gaze. "Oh, you know, that sounds good, but I'm really beat. Another time, okay?"

Steve nods then surprises me by reaching out to put his hand on my shoulder. "You know, Ben, if you keep turning down my invitations I'm going to get a complex."

I let out a nervous laugh and take a step back so that his hand falls away. "Oh, don't do that on my account. I'm just an old hermit lawyer worn down by the system."

"You're not old," Steve assures me. "You're like a fine bottle of wine: you just keep getting better with age."

I laugh again. "That's a nice sentiment, Steve, but I think it's a little much."

Steve shivers and looks over at his car parked in the lot across the street then turns back at me. "Sure you don't want to get a drink?"

I nod. "Thanks for the invitation, though. I just think ... I just don't think it's a good idea."

We look at each other for a long moment before he grins and shakes his head. "All right, can't blame a guy for trying. Take care, counselor. I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeah. Have a good weekend." I watch him cross the street and get into his car and wonder why I'm so determined to keep my distance from Steve. I'm 35 years old, not that much older than him, a little on the thin side, average height, thinning brown hair, pale blue eyes. I've been told I'm handsome, but not by men I believe in. I think I keep my distance because I have nothing Steve needs and if it's one thing I've come to understand about myself it's that I need to feel needed.

I sigh and head for the parking structure a couple blocks away. Nearly frozen by the time I step in the stairwell, I shudder as I press the call button for the dilapidated elevator. I listen to the gears grind and whine on an upper level and decide it's probably safer to take the stairs. It's only three flights, after all, and the exercise will do me good.

I climb the steps and walk toward my car, my mind already full of next week's caseload.

"Spare some change?" The voice, timid and young, startles me.

My heart jumps in my chest and I turn, adrenalin pumping through my system as I realize just how isolated I am. "What?" I catch sight of a skinny young kid huddled inside a baggy hooded sweatshirt, hands stuffed in the pockets of his dirty, low riding jeans. He stands between two cars, his pale face turned up to mine.

"Spare some change, man?" He darts a glance at the stairwell then looks back at me. "I could blow you for ten or you can fuck me for twenty."

My fear melts into recognition. This is one of my past clients, a kid I managed to keep out of jail after he was charged with solicitation. He claimed the officer who arrested him accepted the blowjob first and slapped the cuffs on him afterwards. The kid's name is Darren Richmond. He's all of 20 years old.

"Darren?" I say and he starts at the sound of his name.

"How do you know me?" He looks around nervously, suddenly realizing he's trapped between the two cars. "Who are you?"

"It's Ben Harbor," I tell him. "I was your lawyer last year."

His sharp angled face relaxes and he nods. "Oh yeah, I remember you." He shivers and pushes his fists deeper into the pockets of his jeans as he glances around. "I was just kidding about the blowjob."

"Uh huh." I aim my remote at my car and press the unlock button. The taillights flash, grabbing Darren's attention, and I see his eyes dart to the rainbow sticker in the back window.

He turns back with a grin. "I didn't know you were a fag."

I shake my head. "Well, I don't consider myself a fag, but I am gay, if that's what you mean. What are you doing out in this weather without a coat?"

He stamps his feet as if by my mention of the weather he has realized he is freezing. "Trying to make a living, dude. A guy's gotta eat, you know?"

I take a breath and use the keyless remote to unlock all four car doors. The headlights flash, grabbing Darren's attention for a moment.

"Come on," I say. "I'll get you something to eat and let you warm up."

His eyes narrow beneath the stiff, frozen dip of his hood. "I don't need your fucking charity, man."

"It's not charity, Darren. It's called being a good person. Come on, you're going to freeze to death."

I head to my car. After a slight hesitation, he follows, climbing in the passenger side and shivering as he cups his pale hands before his lips and blows on them.

"Thanks," he says without looking at me. "I was just kidding about the offer to blow you."

"Buckle your seat belt."

I pull into a drive through and buy him several burgers, fries, a milk shake, and an apple pie. He stuffs a fistful of fries in his mouth before I pull away from the pick-up window, huffing and snorting as if he hasn't eaten for days which, sadly, is probably the case.

I live in the upper flat of a large, rambling house just north of the city line. It's cheap, it's a good neighborhood, and in the summer I like to sit on the screened in porch that opens off the small kitchen and watch the stars arrive. Darren follows me up the steps, his mouth bulging with fries and burger.

He looks around my place, fast-food bag in one hand, half-eaten burger in the other. "Nice," he says.

I shrug off my coat and stop by the thermostat to turn up the heat. "Thanks, I like it."

Darren stands in the middle of the living room, elbows held close to his sides, feet together. I step around him to open the heat vents. "Sit down, Darren."

"My clothes are pretty rank, dude," he says. "I don't want to get your stuff dirty."

I spread a couple of old towels across the end of the sofa and he sits, finishing off his food as I run a hot bath for him.

After the food is gone and he has slurped up the last of the milk shake, he lets out a wet belch then stands up to stretch. He's skinny and his pants barely manage to hang on to his jutting hip bones. The cuffs are frayed and black with grime.

I hand him my robe and wave him into the bathroom. "I've got a hot bath waiting for you. Go in there, take off your clothes and toss them out to me so I can run them through the wash. Take as long as you want in the tub. There's an extra toothbrush in the cabinet."

He gives me a dubious look but enters the bathroom and closes the door. Moments later his clothes are tossed out onto the floor. I scoop them up and carry them into the kitchen to the stackable washer and dryer. I dig things out of the pockets of his jeans -- loose change, a few bills, a couple of condoms -- and lay the items on the counter before dropping the clothes in the washer with extra soap and a dash of softener.

I change into sweats and a sweatshirt and keep busy tidying up the kitchen. When that is done, I sit on the futon in living room and channel surf. Quiet sounds come from behind the bathroom door. Forty minutes later Darren steps out of the bathroom, my robe overwhelming him. His lanky hair is combed back from his face and he has shaved the scruff from his narrow, pointed chin.

"I used your disposable razor to shave," he says. "You'll need a new one."

I nod. "That's okay. Feel warmer?"

He tightens the belt on the robe and gives me a look. "Why you doing this stuff for me?"

I shrug. "You needed help. Why shouldn't I?"

He searches my face for a few moments before slowly falling to his knees before me. His hands move my legs apart. I look down at him, so piously kneeling there, and assess his blue eyes, full lips and broad forehead. He is a handsome young man. His face portrays innocence despite the fact that I know he's been living on the streets for the last few years and has sold himself over and over for food and a place to sleep for the night. I had always been drawn to Darren, to guys like the ones I defend. Their youthful vulnerability draws me in, their cocky attitudes masking such depths of neediness.

My cock responds to Darren's proximity without first checking with my brain. It begins to lengthen within my boxers. Darren can see the reaction reflected in my eyes. He smiles and reaches up to untie the drawstrings then slowly lowers the cinched waist of my sweats.

"You don't have to," I am finally able to say. "I really didn't intend for you to."

He looks up at me and shrugs. "It's all I can do to pay you back."

"You don't need to pay me back."

"I don't like to be in debt to anyone," he replies and pulls my sweats down my thighs. My hips rise of their own accord to accommodate his actions. "Besides, I want to do this."

Darren tosses my sweats aside and begins to massage my bare thighs. His thin fingers are strong and seem to know just where to knead my muscles. I put my head back and sigh, closing my eyes and letting my mind go blank. It feels good to have someone touch me again; it's been months, hell maybe even a year, since I've had sex.

His hand gropes up the legs of my boxers and wraps my dick in a tight embrace. I gasp and my cock bucks in his fist. Darren chuckles as he strokes my length.

"You're just ready to go, Mr. Harbor."

"Ben," I say. "Call me Ben."

"Ben it is." Darren pulls my boxers off and tosses them away. He kneels before me and studies my erection, tipping his head right and left. His fingers wrap around my cock and squeeze it hard before pumping slowly along its length.

"This is my favorite part," he says quietly, eyes locked on my cock. "Just before the first taste, when I can imagine everything that follows will be good and kind and maybe turn into something else." He shrugs, suddenly embarrassed, but his eyes stay focused on my dick. "It's silly to think it, I know, but I can't help it."

Before I can reply, Darren has swallowed me whole. The wet heat of his mouth closes around me and draws the breath from my lungs. His nimble fingers wrap around my balls and his thumb presses against the sensitive spot between my balls and asshole. His head bobs faster and faster in my lap and I close my eyes. My mind spins at the sensations searing through my body and I begin to feel the familiar tingle in my prostate as my orgasm nears.

Before he makes me come I grab the sides of his head and pull his frantic mouth off my pulsing length. He looks up, eyes glazed, lips swollen. "Don't you like it?"

"I like it," I assure him as I try to catch my breath. "A little too much. I don't want it to be this quick. Let's go in the bedroom."

He follows me into the bedroom and I pull my sweatshirt over my head. Darren slowly loosens the belt of my robe and allows it to fall open. A path of thickening black hair is exposed that begins at the middle of his pale chest and runs down over the slats of his ribs to a bushy finale around his cock. His erection is long and stretches parallel to the floor, the slit staring suspiciously at me as if trying to deduce my intentions. He rolls his shoulders back and allows the robe to fall. We stand nude and staring at one another as the wind moans around the eaves.

Then Darren steps up and runs his hands through the hair on my chest then gently kneads my nipples into points of arousal. "I like hairy men," he says and ducks his head to suck my left nipple.

Lifting his face, I gently kiss his mouth. His lips are full and soft, the skin around them smooth and cool. I hesitantly touch my tongue to his lips and he parts them for me. My tongue slides into his mouth and our kiss deepens as I put my arms around his shoulders and pull him into me. My fingers trace the ridges of his spine as our tongues roll and slide over each other. My mind is blank, all thoughts of work or right and wrong obliterated by the spark and fire of Darren's mouth and body.

Finally breaking our embrace, I lower myself before him and take his erection in my hand. I stroke him slowly as I examine the fine line of his shaft and the beveled ridge of the heart-shaped head.

I run my tongue along the full length of him and he sighs. "Oh, yeah. Oh, man that feels good. Not many guys want to blow me."

I open wide and take him deep into my throat. I suck him furiously and then slow to a more luxurious stroke. Pressing my tongue firmly against the sensitive underbelly of his cock, I pull back until my lips touch the ridge of his head, pausing to suck hard on the plump cap. He sighs and moans above me. His fingers are tangled in my hair and he grips my head as his hips begin to move. He thrusts himself back and forth between my lips faster and faster and I can tell he's getting close. Before he can finish, I pull my mouth away and look up at him. Taking the spit slicked length of him in my fist I stroke him slowly as I ease him back from orgasm.

"That was good," he says. "I nearly came."

"I know. But I wanted you to wait."

Darren knows what is next. Without a word, he lies on his back across the bed. He lifts his legs up and grips the backs of his thighs to expose his rosy pink circle. Still on my knees, I lean in to part the clenching muscle with my tongue and slide it deep inside him. He gasps and reaches down to spread wide the tight, pale cheeks of his ass. I feast for a while, my tongue driving into him as my lips kiss and suck at the tender threshold. I pull back and slip first one, then two fingers into his warm, moist depths.

"Oh, that's good," Darren groans. "God, that feels good. I want your cock inside me, Ben. Fuck me."

I stand and remove a condom and bottle of lube from the night stand. As I roll on the condom, my cock thrums with anticipation. I slather its length with lube and use two fingers to slick Darren's anus. I step up to the edge of the bed and fasten one hand around his ankle as I use the other hand to aim my cock. I press slowly into the hot center of him and tip my head back, gasping at the tight, wet feeling of my invasion.

Darren groans beneath me and I grab both of his ankles to spread his legs wide. I watch as my thick shaft is swallowed up by his spreading asshole. The lips of his sphincter spread slowly around my girth, opening ever further to fully engulf me. I keep pushing until the wiry hairs of my bush brush against the skin of his balls. I am fully inside him now and I pause to look at him lying open and accepting before me. I reach out to run a hand over his chest and pinch each nipple hard enough for him to groan.

"Oh, God, Ben," he says as he looks up at me. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

I pull back then press deep again and my hips pick up a long forgotten rhythm of desire. I tighten my grip on Darren's thin ankles as I plow faster between the rounded globes of his ass, tipping my head back and losing myself in the union of our bodies. The muscles deep within his body clench and release around my invading cock and the friction of my entry and withdrawal as I plunge repeatedly into him awakens places in me that have forgotten how to dream.

"Oh, fuck," Darren gasps. "Oh God, I'm gonna shoot."

I look down to watch the strokes of his hand shorten until his grip is focused on the spot just beneath the purpling head of his cock. A moment later a thick strand of ropy come spits from the tip and splatters across his flat belly. I am not far behind. As his spunk splashes again across his skin, I let out a grunt at the rush of my own release where I lay buried deep within his body's hot embrace.

Afterwards, I slowly withdraw and lean down to kiss him on the lips. We clean up with towels from my night stand and then I help him to stand so I can pull down the covers on the bed. He slides between the flannel sheets with a sigh and I pad nude into the kitchen to pull his clothes from the washer and toss them into the dryer before I return to the bedroom and join him.

I pull him into me, holding his thin body nestled against my armpit and hip. He sighs and traces a hand down my torso to gently squeeze my softened penis.

"Thanks," he says through a yawn.

"Thank you," I reply and pull him closer as his breathing deepens.

As I lay there listening to the tumble and clink of his clothes in the dryer, I wonder if I will wake in the morning to find him gone. I wonder if he will have stolen anything on his way out the door and try to recall how much cash I have left in my wallet before deciding it’s not enough for me to get up and hide it. I fight back the untrusting thoughts attempting to intrude on my peace of mind and as I tumble into sleep, I allow myself to hope that he will still be here in the morning.

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