"You want to make love again?" I hated the sound of my voice right now. I sounded like I was afraid of my fucking shadow. But I was afraid. Afraid that he would turn me down. Afraid that he would leave and never come back. My gut churned with ruthless intensity while I waited for him to say something. Anything.

"Make love?" Mark exclaimed, looking for all the world like he was about to laugh. Now I felt like pulling the covers over my head and staying there till he forgot about me. Which, given the glint of amusement in his smoke-colored eyes, would be just about any second now.

"Is that what you think we've been doing?" he demanded. Well...I guess we were going to have to agree to disagree on that one. I pretended to be mesmerized by the sight of my naked toes wriggling out from under the sheets at the bottom of the bed, but he wasn't fooled.

"I'm a guy."

I frowned. "I...um...noticed."

"Guys fuck other guys. They don't make love to 'em." I hated what he was saying, but I loved the sound of his voice, his Scottish accent growing more pronounced by the second. I didn't need a map to tell me where this was leading. But my heart would have followed him into hell without hesitation.

And that was just plain stupid.

"You think I'm queer?" he demanded.

"Umm..." Okay, there really wasn't a good answer to that. At least, not one that he would be willing to accept in his present mood. He enjoyed what we did. That much was fucking obvious. Did he need a reminder?

I leaned forward to kiss him, but he jerked away from me as if my touch burned. "This isn't a fucking romance novel, y'know. We fucked. That's it. There's no happy ending."

Jesus, he was wound up. I couldn't get a word in edgewise, but I don't think it would have mattered what I said. He was...

...on his way out.

He jumped out of bed, completely un-self-conscious in his nakedness, and I couldn't help but admire the sensual way he moved, even when he was upset. Mark kept muttering to himself while he threw his clothes on, stopping every few seconds to glare at me with those wounded eyes. What did I do? What did I fucking do?

"You want to turn a simple fuck into Gone With The Wind, go ahead, but you're not taking me with you. I'm outta here."

I wrenched the covers off and let him get a good look at what he was leaving behind. "You wanted this!"

"Aye, but you had to go and ruin it," he snarled, jamming his arms into his jacket.

He slammed the door when he left, but I swear I stared at it for a full minute, waiting, no, expecting him to come back. I could see he was mad, but it wasn't about the money. We both knew that. This...was something else.

I pulled the pillow into my arms and punched it hard for good measure. If he thought he'd never see me again, he really didn't know me.

*****

I pulled up the collar of my jacket and ran down the stairs, my booted feet making a hideous racket that probably woke up half of the University dorm. I was furious, I told myself, grabbing a cigarette from my pocket. I lit it with hands that shook uncontrollably. Liar. You're not furious at all. Alan got too fucking close, didn't he?

When I got to the street, I slowed down and dragged a huge breath into my lungs. But the smoke made me gasp, and before I knew it, my chest burned like it was on fire. Forced to stop, I doubled over, coughing and choking. My eyes teared violently, but I refused to recognize it for what it was. I never cried.

What the hell did I have to cry about?

*****

I slipped into my clothes quickly and locked the door to my room behind me. Stealth came naturally to me. I flowed through the streets, at one with the shadows, following my lover. I don't supposed it occurred to Mark that I would actually follow him. That must have been why he never looked back.

It was easy. He didn't have that much of a head start on me, and he wasn't walking as fast as I expected. In fact, he didn't seem to have any particular destination in mind at all.

I fell back when he paused outside a garishly-lit club. He was clearly making up his mind whether or not to go in. I didn't care one way or the other. He wasn't going to get rid of me that readily.

*****

I figured I could make up for lost time...not to mention money. I often met my clients, for lack of a better word, at the club. It was dark and atmospheric, well, in a way, and most of the people I serviced weren't all that keen on being identified. Anonymity came at a price, though. They were forced to trust me to keep their secrets, and sometimes I thought I got off more on that than the money.

The usual guys I did in the park were older. Middle-aged businessmen on their way home from work, trying to grab the fast blowjob that their wives couldn't give them. Boring, but easy money. They kept their mouths shut because they had to. I didn't have to do a thing except swallow their dicks.

But the club...ah, that was like paradise to my rapidly disintegrating nervous system. Rich kids, young, misunderstood, and totally self-absorbed. Doing lots of drugs, giving away lots of cash.  It was a fucking goldmine for the right person.

And I was smart enough to exploit my looks, even if I didn't think I fit the typical pretty boy profile.

No, I found the ones who wanted it rough and hard and dirty, and I lusted after the ones who were daring enough to let me fuck them against the wall where anyone could see.

That was all it took to put Alan out of my mind. A couple drinks that someone else paid for and a strong, willing body that wanted a little exercise.

I'd been there about an hour before I felt the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The skin there tingled, and I slapped at it absentmindedly, unwilling to take my eyes off my next victim.

He had the look of a virgin. They didn't get too many in here, but every once in a while, some new kid wandered in. Someone who deserved the full treatment from someone who knew the ropes. Like me. He looked untouched. Pale blond hair, eyes the color of melted chocolate, and lips the color of bruised cherries. Unless I missed my guess, that was a prep school uniform he was wearing.

I loved the tie. Made me want to tug on it and see how far he'd...go.

He was probably underage. But I was better off not knowing. As long as their money was good, I never asked.

*****

I stayed in the background, blending so well that Mark never even knew I was there. This was one place where I didn't stand out. I was the right age, the right look, and oh yeah, my money was the right color, too.

I was approached a few times, but I sent them away. I wasn't interested in getting blown or fucked. That earned me more than one curious look, however, so I resorted to saying quietly, "I like to watch."

Magic words. Now no one came near me.

I saw Mark slink over to the twink against the wall, and I could feel my teeth grind together. My nostrils flared and my eyes narrowed. I told myself, he's only doing this for the money, but I knew better. There was something wild about Mark, something that drew him to the dark. That was the something that called to me.

I was fucking jealous when I had no right to be. But that didn't stop me from wishing I was the one with my back pressed up against the wall.

Mark was jiggling restlessly as his hands worked the kid's belt open. He unzipped the preppy's pants and reached inside. God, that unnerved me. Before I knew it, I'd taken a step closer to where they stood, but luckily, I regained control before they noticed me lurking in the darkness. I didn't want him to know I was there. Or that I cared that much about what the stupid prick did after he left my bed.

He grinned at the kid and grabbed him by the tie, tugging on it to guide his head down for a sloppy wet kiss. Every part of me protested that one, but all of a sudden, I was standing there with a stranglehold on my own dick. Jesus.