John hung up the phone, sighing as he studied the scrap of paper onto which he'd scribbled a handful of numbers. He checked his watch and considered staying in to watch the ESPN countdown of Football's 10 Worst Last Minute Calls. Then he berated himself. If didn't get out of his apartment right now Benji might kick in the door and start treating his place like a crime scene.
"Last time I was there, Stone, your neighbor complained about a suspicious smell coming from your apartment," Benji had told him dryly.
"I forgot to shower today," John replied.
Benji wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I figured. But it also says something about the state of your place. Get some air once in a while, will you?"
This had led him to here, keys in one hand, and a list of the next movie start times in the other. He jogged down a flight of stairs to the ground level and headed for his car. Habit had him checking out the other apartments on his way. He'd chosen this place because it was cheap and far enough away from schools that children were scarce. It also meant that some of his neighbors were not exactly upstanding citizens. Shady, seemed a better adjective.
Motion by his beat-up Honda made him slow his pace and approach the covered parking lot cautiously. As he got closer, he saw that there was a lot of activity around his car.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he ground out, coming to a stop beside his car.
Finn, dressed in white shorts and a red San Francisco Forty-niners jersey, was bent over the hood of his car soaping it up with one of those little kitchen sponges. Half of the car had already been soaped and had dried and was covered with patches of soap crust. The other half was covered with dripping streaks of soap and dirt. A pail of water sat in a puddle by the fender.
"Listen, kid, you're not allowed to wash cars here. And especially not my car."
Finn, stretched out so perfectly over the hood of the car that John couldn't help wondering if the kid had been lying like that for hours waiting for John to come out, looked back over his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed from exertion and his damp hair stuck to his cheeks and the underside of his chin. His clothes were soaked through, giving John a very intimate view of Finn's pert little ass. Of course the kid had to wear white shorts to wash a car.
"Your car looked disgusting," Finn told him cheerfully, sweeping the sponge over the dented metal. "You can't get a date driving around in something like this, Detective Stonebrook."
"Who the hell said I wanted a date?" John shot back unthinkingly.
"Oh, good, then you're free tonight." Finn jumped off the hood, his scuffed sneakers landing in a puddle of soapy water. He smiled up at John, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "What are we doing?"
John cursed beneath his breath. He hated how difficult it was to be stern with Finn when the kid looked up at him with big blue puppy dog eyes. With the wipe across his forehead, Finn had smeared dirt over his skin and John briefly considered washing him.
John ran from the thought.
Flustered, he pointed at his car half-washed car. "What about that? It looks like shit now."
"Oh! You want me to finish?" Finn turned around and bent over to wipe at the front fender, the back of his shorts riding up and revealing the bottom curves of his ass.
"No!" John almost covered his eyes. "Damn it, kid. Look, just throw some water on it and get the suds off. Christ."
Shrugging, Finn dropped the sponge and picked up the pail of water. Standing at the wheel well, he tossed the water in a sloppy arc over the top of the car. Half of the water missed, flying over the roof and splattering the next car over.
"Jesus Christ," John muttered, staring at his dripping mess of a car. "Remind me never to have you vacuum my apartment. You'd probably set it on fire."
Finn turned, looking contrite. "Sorry. I don't have any more water. I couldn't find any faucets."
"That's because you're not supposed to wash cars here." John checked his watch. He still had a chance of catching the next show. "Look, forget it. Where do you want me to drop you off? I assume you caught the bus here?" Finn's apartment building was several miles away and John really hoped the kid hadn't walked.
Finn toed the asphalt. "I hitched a ride," he admitted, looking up at John with a wince.
John swallowed the lecture he wanted to give and motioned towards the car. "Get in and I'll take you back to your place."
He should have been suspicious of the fact that Finn didn't put up a fight, but he was too busy concentrating on not concentrating on the wet young man sitting in his passenger seat that he didn't think twice about it.
"So you like the Forty-niners, huh?" he asked, glancing at Finn's jersey.
"Sure. They're great!"
"Uh, huh. Who's your favorite player?"
Finn used the tip of his finger to draw a heart through the film on the inside of the front windshield. "Uh . . . Karl Malone is good."
John snorted. "Wrong sport, kid. You don't know anything about football, do you? Who gave you the jersey? Or did you steal it?"
Finn swiveled in his seat, eyes twinkling. In a husky voice, he drawled, "Why? Do you want me to take it off, Daddy? I wore it 'cause it's your favorite team."
John gripped the steering wheel as his cock decided to wake up. "Do not call me 'Daddy', you got that?"
"It bothers you because you like it." Finn's voice was soft and smooth like silk running over John's skin. "It makes you want to do bad things to me. Makes you want to pull this car over and play with me." Finn slumped back in the seat, eyes closed. John watched from the corner of his eye as Finn lightly cupped his groin. "You want to play with this. My hard little toy."
A car horn blaring was John's only warning that he'd just run through a red light. Sweating, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw with relief that he hadn't caused an accident.
"Damn it, kid, if you don't keep your mouth shut, I'm going to leave you on the side of the road and I don't care where we are." John glared over at the younger man. "And take your hand off your dick. You're not playing with yourself in my car."
Finn's eyes were slitted as he licked his lips. "What if you played with me?"
John ignored him, though he was painfully aware of his own hard cock crammed into his pants. He was coming to the grim realization that he didn't know how to handle Finn. Why would he? How many times had he had to deal with a boy hustler who stalked him? Never?
"Don't I get something for washing your car?" Finn pouted. He wasn't cupping himself any longer, but his finger was running lazily over the outline of his semi-hard cock. He didn't look like he was trying to be seductive. He looked almost bored. John supposed hustlers could be like that.
"You get a ride home, that's what you get. I never asked you to assault my car."
Finn didn't say anything for several minutes, making John glance suspiciously at him. Finn had stopped touching himself and was chewing on his bottom lip, looking anxious.
"You can drop me off here," the red-head said after they'd turned a few streets. The request confirmed a hunch of John's that he didn't like having. "I need to do some grocery shopping before I go home."
John didn't pull over. With his eyes on the road, he said casually, "Why don't you want to go home?"
When Finn didn't answer, he prodded, "Is Jack waiting for you? Or those two punks?"
Finn still didn't say anything, his face turned to the window. His expression in the reflection was tense.
John looked at the clock in the dashboard. He knew he would regret this. There was no doubt in his mind. But he'd seen plenty of kids on the streets and he recognized the signs of someone who was afraid to go home.
"You're over eighteen, right?"
Finn turned and looked at him in confusion. "I'm way over --"
"Whatever," John interrupted, not about to believe any claims that Finn was older than twenty. "If I take you to a movie, will you go home afterwards?"
Finn sucked in his breath so loudly John's eyes shot to him, thinking the kid was having a heart attack. "I'll even behave myself until we get there," Finn promised excitedly.
Until we get there echoed in John's ears. Finn wouldn't do anything in public.
John had intended to see Matrix Reloaded, but when they got in line his eyes fell on Pirates of the Caribbean and he knew that that's what they would see. Something told him he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on a convoluted storyline with his present company by his side.
John thanked God that Finn had dressed like a boy today. The looks the detective was getting as Finn bounced on his toes beside him was enough to make John's cheeks heat. It would have been a hundred times worse if Finn had been wearing one of his outlandish stripper outfits.
As it was, he felt like a dirty old man taking his boytoy out for entertainment. It didn't help when Finn kept insisting on calling him 'Daddy' loud enough for the other people in line to hear him and stare.
"Ooh, Daddy, Johnny Depp reminds me of you," Finn exclaimed, tugging on John's sleeve. "Only you're much sexier than he is."
Someone please shoot me. John purchased the tickets and quickly dragged Finn into the theater.
"Just keep quiet and watch the movie," he commanded, stuffing Finn into a chair midway up the theater. It wasn't that crowded since the movie had been out for several weeks. John hoped it stayed that way. Scowling down at the younger man, he said, "You want anything from the snack bar? Popcorn? Candy? They probably have hot dogs."
"And nachos!" Finn said, all but drooling as his eyes glazed over. "Get nachos, too."
"What? I'm not getting all of that!"
Finn crumpled in his chair, drawing up his knees and hugging them. "Just a soda, please," he mumbled.
Well, hell. This was worse than taking his wife out.
John stomped from the theater.
When he returned, arms bulging with enough food to feed an entire row, he found Finn's chair empty. He was surprised by the alarm that rushed through his veins.
"Daddy, up here!"
John cringed. He looked up the theater -- trying not to meet the disapproving stares along the way -- and located Finn in the back row, waving at him.
"What are you doing up here?" John snapped, falling heavily into the seat beside the red-head. "We're too far back."
Finn started grabbing packages from his arms. "The row you picked had seats that rocked. These sits don't move, but the armrests go up so we can snuggle. You got chocolate-covered raisins! And nachos, and hot dogs -- only two? -- and what are these? Bonbons?"
John closed his ears and shoved all the food at Finn. He couldn't deal with this. It was like having a kid again, except this was a kid who wanted to screw him later. He didn't think it could get any worse.
The lights went down and John automatically folded his hands into his lap. He had a pretty good idea that after the food disappeared Finn was going to be all over him. Maybe he should have gotten the family-sized popcorn . . .
Ten minutes into the movie, John began to question his sexuality.
It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been forced to do so. Ever since Finn's striptease at his birthday, he'd been toeing the line of was he or wasn't he bisexual? But watching Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp interacting on screen, John saw them in a way he knew his buddies at the station never did.
It didn't help that Finn was running a quiet commentary beside him. "Look at the way they're staring at each other. Jack wants to bend Will over a barrel, I'm telling you."
John rubbed at his eyes, trying to push the visual away.
"Next Halloween, you and I should play Jack and Will," Finn whispered, his breath sweet with chocolate. "We'd be sexy pirates."
"Next Halloween, I hope I don't know you," John said beneath his breath.
Finn continued, unaware. "But you don't have to wait until next year to bend me over a barrel. I'll let you do that anytime you want."
John sucked viciously at his soda, hoping to cool the heat that was blazing in his crotch. John was no Johnny Depp, but he could picture himself and Finn assuming the actors' roles. Finn was a cinch to take Orlando's place. Young, pretty, edging into androgynous -- those descriptions fit both men. John could imagine himself ordering Finn to polish his mainmast. . .
Crap. He should have chosen the Matrix.
"I gotta take a piss," he told Finn in his gruffest, manliest voice.
"Want me to hold --"
Several irritated sshhh!s followed John out of the theater. Once in the safety of the bathroom, he splashed several handfuls of water over his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, noting the wrinkles, the gray hair. He wasn't a distinguished older man. He was just plain old. Why the hell was Finn so interested in him?
After a few minutes, he'd controlled himself enough to risk returning to the theater. Finn was where he'd left him, smiling as the detective approached. John ignored him and stumbled over the empty buckets and trays that littered the floor in front of his seat. Finn had eaten everything. The way he eyed John as he sat down suggested that he was still hungry.
"If you touch me, I will hurt you," John said clearly, eyes on the screen.
John frowned, refusing to turn his head. "How what?"
"How will you hurt me?" Finn whispered, curious. "Will you spank me? Pinch me? Slap me around?"
"I will hold you down and starve you," John gritted out. "I will make you wear a long-sleeved turtleneck and pants that actually reach all the way down to your feet. How's that for punishment?"
Finn blinked. "I think I'd prefer the spanking," he said in complete seriousness.
John turned his head and stared at the creature beside. Then, he began to laugh.
It bubbled up at first from the absurdity of Finn, and then at the entire situation. John laughed loudly the way he wanted to. Several heads turned in his direction but he didn't care. And when Finn joined him -- laughing for probably different reasons -- John knew things had changed.
"It's alright to like me, isn't it?" Finn said around a grin.
His laughter under control, John smiled. "Don't push it, kid." He reached out to tousle Finn's hair like he would a buddy, or his daughter. But Finn caught his hand and brought it to his mouth. John's smile faded as Finn pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. His lips were soft.
"It's alright to like me," Finn repeated, his mouth moving against John's palm, hot breath tickling his skin. "I like you, too."
The light from the movie highlighted how young Finn was. How beautiful. He was a beautiful kid. A kid.
"Finn," John began, uncomfortable, "Finn, I can't do this. I'm too old for you. Don't you want -- don't you want someone your own age?" It bothered him to suggest it. It felt like saying no to someone trying to hand him money.
Finn didn't seem to care what he said, anyway. Pushing up the armrest that separated their chairs, Finn climbed over John's lap. John didn't push him away. He didn't touch Finn, not trusting himself. His hands fell to the seats on either side of him as Finn cupped John's face between his hands.
"What I want, John Stonebrook, is you." Finn brushed his lips across John's forehead, making him shiver. "What I want is to open your pants and take you out. What I want is for you to cover my mouth so no one can hear me moan as I bounce on your big hard cock." Finn dragged the tip of his tongue down John's temple. "Don't you want that, too, Daddy?"
Behind Finn on the screen blacksmith Will and pirate Jack were arguing, their dark eyes flashing. John's heart thundered. He heard someone noisily eating popcorn two rows over. John looked up at the young man in his lap. He guessed Finn's age at twenty-two.
He raised his hand and covered Finn's mouth.
Finn moaned, lashes falling shut. He rocked forward into John's chest, making the detective aware of the bulge in the white shorts. John had one to match.
Eyes still closed,
Finn reached between them and opened John's pants, freeing his erection
to the cool air of the theater. John managed to keep his hand on Finn's
mouth as the younger man maneuvered out of his shorts and straddled
John once more.
One finger stroked across John's opening and he jumped, unused to being touched there. Finn waited for him to relax, and then stroked him again, not penetrating, just touching. The next time Finn stroked, Finn licked the palm over his mouth. John shuddered violently. Stroke, lick. Stroke, lick. Then Finn did both at the same time and John found himself sporting a hard-on from high school. For the first time in his life he wondered if he would like it if another man licked him down there.
He breathed heavily and felt the sweat beading on his upper lip. A fight scene was occurring on the screen behind Finn but it wasn't enough to tear John's eyes away from the red-haired vixen in his lap. John pulled Finn's teasing hand from his crotch and urged Finn to settle fully atop him. This time nothing came between John's cock and the hot skin of Finn's ass.
In a thick, rough voice, John said, "What do you want, kid?"
In answer, Finn rolled his hips, rubbing himself over John's cock.
John gazed hungrily at the smooth skin of Finn's legs and hips. With his free hand, he cupped a smooth cheek and squeezed. Finn was soft and young and -- oh, God, John wanted to fuck his brains out right here in this theater.
"Tell me you
want it, Finn," John whispered, edging his fingers into the crease
between the firm globes. The tip of his finger grazed the tightly puckered
skin of Finn's opening. "C'mon, kid."
He didn't care. He moved the hand covering Finn's mouth to the back of the kid's head and pulled him down. Finn's lips tasted of chocolate and salt. His tongue held the faint tang of jalapeno from the nachos he'd eaten. It was a crazy, mixed up taste that John had never tasted on a woman before. He liked it.
He massaged Finn's tongue with his own and smiled when Finn moaned helplessly into his mouth. It might be different kissing a man, but John was pleased to see he could garner the same reactions.
Finn rocked against him, guided by John's hand on his hip. They panted into each other's mouths, faces too close to see anything but the darkness of their eyes. Finn reached down and took hold of John's erection. John bucked up once in surprise at the feel of Finn's butter slick hand before groaning approvingly at the skillful touch.
John tore his mouth from Finn's, chuckling quietly at the disappointed look on the younger man's face. "Next time," he promised in a thick voice, "I'll take my time with you. Next time."
There shouldn't be a next time, John's rational voice protested. There shouldn't even be a this time. But John's cock was inches away from Finn's ass and there was no pretending that he wasn't going to fuck the kid.
He pushed Finn's hand off his cock and reached down to slide his forearms beneath Finn's thighs. Finn weighed next to nothing so it was easy for John to lift him and bring him down slowly over the rigid spear of his cock. Finn wrapped his arms around the back of John's neck for balance while the older man controlled his descent.
"Yes," Finn panted. "Do me, please . . ."
John felt the tight hole against the tip of his cock and nearly came. Holding Finn's heavy-lidded gaze, he lowered Finn a little more until sheer gravity forced the young body to open to the stiff flesh prodding against it.
John gasped as Finn slowly sank down onto him. The kid was unbearably tight. The way Finn's head rolled back and his mouth sank open made John want to roll them both into the aisle and pound into Finn for all he was worth.
He settled with sliding his arms fully beneath Finn's thighs and locking his hands together behind Finn's ass, cradling him as he lifted Finn up and down on his cock.
Finn's feet flew up to John's shoulders, flapping bonelessly. The heel of one of his sneakers hit John in the back of the head. If an usher came back there, they were really in deep shit.
That sense of urgency made John hotter than ever. "Call me your Daddy," he whispered harshly, bringing Finn all the way down until Finn's balls mashed against John's stomach. "Come on, Finn. Talk dirty to me or I'll stop."
"Oh . . . Daddy," Finn moaned, head thrown back in a picture of pure carnality. "I can feel you so deep and thick in me. Make me take it, Daddy. Make me take your big fat cock."
"Jesus." John shut his eyes, his belly quivering with an orgasm he knew might take a few years off his life.
He opened his eyes again and started bringing Finn down faster atop him. "I'm gonna come," he warned in a dark hiss. "When I do, I want you to keep every drop inside you. You got that? Don't lose any of it."
Finn's entire body shuddered like a wave had passed through him. "Give it to me, Daddy. Give me all of it."
John thrust his hips up from the chair while at the same time yanking Finn down. He shoved into Finn as far as he could go and gave in to the painful pressure that had been building in his groin. He could feel his seed spurting deep inside Finn and overflowing back down his cock. Finn gave a small, muted cry and clamped down on John's erection, trying to hold in the hot liquid.
John jerked at the sudden squeeze and saw stars as his orgasm continued a precious few more seconds. He quickly grabbed Finn's twitching cock and jerked it until it, too, was overflowing with liquid heat. John watched in wonder as Finn swayed in his lap, moaning out his climax.
Finn eventually collapsed against him, tiny tremors working their way through his body. John rubbed the slender back, knowing he should probably get Finn off him and cleaned up, but enjoying the feel of Finn around him too much to move.
"We need to wash your car again," Finn murmured against the side of John's throat. "Get all wet and soapy . . . You can fuck me over the bumper."
"Don't you think about anything other than sex?" John asked, genuinely amazed. Maybe it was the age difference, but John just felt like rolling over and going to sleep.
"Mmm, sex and food," Finn replied. "Oh, and movies." He raised his head. "Is that wrong?"
John looked at the screen and watched Johnny smile at Orlando. "No, kid, that sounds just about right to me."