FREE FICTION FRIDAYS - BAD

Welcome back. I've working under a serious time crunch here, so we got nothing fancy this week. I hope you enjoy this little flash piece. Have a great weekend!

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BAD

by Tucker McCallahan

A twenty-ounce Mountain Dew sat beside my feet.  Three or four other guys in wife beaters and long shorts lounged around me on the stoop of 746, drinking forties, smoking cigarettes, and generally looking like lazy thugs. Old school Public Enemy blasted from a random phone. My head bobbed to the hardcore beat. Couple of the regulars showed up and I took care of them with the easy slide. I was in the middle of a text to Shane telling him to shuffle his ass my direction and take over for me when I looked up.

I deleted the text.

One of my dudes stopped the kid ten feet in front of the stoop. I read the body language going on and knew he was telling the kid to take off.

"It's cool, bro." My words didn't carry over "Fight the Power." I raised my voice and repeated myself, adding, "I know him."

"Smell like bacon, yo."

I grabbed my soda and stood up.

"He's aight."

I left the comfort and safety of the stoop and approached the kid. I didn't know him, but I knew the look. I could practically smell the desperation. I held my hand out and the kid stared at it for the longest second ever. He finally reached out and slapped my palm. I gripped his fingers before he could pull them away and yanked him toward me for a shoulder-bump-back-slap.

"Long time, man. Let's talk."

I shoved one hand in my pocket and headed around the side of the building. I didn't check to see if the kid followed me; I could feel him. Two massive dumpsters sat cockeyed up against the peeling paint of 746 about halfway down the alley. I turned sideways and dipped between them. Normally I would've tapped one of the dumpsters to make sure the spot was unoccupied, but I'd been out all day. I already know nobody was back here getting off.

I slid sideways and leaned up against the naked brick. The kid stood in front of me, his face telegraphing his nervousness. I set my soda on one of the three plastic crates among the used condoms, rubber gloves, dirty needles, balloons, and wadded-up bags scattered all over the concrete. Hooking another crate with my foot, I dragged it over in front of me, and then grabbed some serious eye contact with the kid.

"Who?"

"Jamie. Uh, he goes by Lil J?"

"I know him." I motioned to the crate in front of me. "Cop a squat."

"I really need–"

"I know what you need. Question is whether you can pay for it."

He fidgeted, eyes skipping around the ground.

"Look at me, kid."

His eyes snapped back up to my face; they were blue like summer pool water. I bet he'd been a looker before he got strung out. His face was all hard planes and sharp edges, fined down from more dope than food. But his skin was the golden brown of the toasted cheese that came on the top of a bowl of French onion soup, and I had no doubt he'd be just as delicious.

"You got no cash, right?"

He shook his head and shivered. His nose was running. He was gonna be in a real bad state three-four hours from now.

"So it's your thing. Pay in trade or break out."

He said nothing, but reached for me. I brushed his hands aside. In exactly three seconds I had my dick exposed and in my hand, stroking slow. Usually I amped up with my eyes closed, my head filled with the visual of sliding between my last boyfriend's full, moist lips. But this kid hit some kind of nerve, and just staring at his dark eyelashes fluttering at he gazed up at me turned me so solid I had to stop.

He licked his lips and leaned in, but I retreated.

"Chill baby."

I slid a condom from my pocket and rolled it on. I treated everybody like they were infected with Ebola. Last thing I needed was my dick rotting off. He stared at me like I'd done some incredibly sweet thing. I wasn't sure if his gratitude was because I'd called him baby or because I didn't intend to make him swallow. Didn't really matter either way. Another stroke or two over the latex and the show was all him.

And he was perfect.

Those dark eyelashes fluttered again as he engulfed the head of my dick. The heat of his mouth was fucking fantastic, and I put my hands behind my head so I wouldn't be tempted to touch him. His hands fisted the heavy denim of my shorts, drawing the material snug across my ass. I didn't expect that sensation and groaned. When he yanked my hips forward and used his grip on my clothes to fuck me deeper into his throat, I gave up hope of making it last. He worked me like a machine. Several more deep thrusts and I came hard.

If my hands hadn't been behind my head, I would've slammed it into the brick wall.

As it was, I scuffed my knuckles and didn't care in the slightest.

Kid drew off nice and slow, his tongue tracing all the way up my dick. Then he sat back and let me deal with the condom. I dropped it and tucked up, fixing my shorts. As I did, I reached into the little pocket inside and pulled out a bundle.

"What do you need?"

Those pretty blue eyes flicked from me to the dope and back.

"One to get well, one to get off."

I counted three off and held them up, pulling my hand back as soon as he reached for them.

"The third's yours…if you tell me your name–your real name–not some street shit."

"It's Aaron."

I handed over his dope.

"Da'Von."

He pocketed his stash and turned to go.

"Ain't gonna get right here?"

He turned back, his face a picture of disgust as he shook his head. I cocked my head, considering.

"I'm 'bout ready to bounce. You wanna hang for five?"

He briefly considered a proposition I hadn't made to another customer, ever. Finally he pulled a bag from his pocket. With easy proficiency, he opened it, slipped a pinkie in, and brought a taste up to his nose, inhaling hard. Then he closed the bag and made it disappear.

"I can hang…if that's what you want."

Those long black eyelashes fluttered and I was totally lost. I nodded and pulled my phone out to send that text to Shane. We squeezed through the space and headed for the stoop.

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