Coming soon.

Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

Rain spiked his eyelashes into tiny triangles, ran down his cheeks like tears. His eyes were pools of ink in his face, wide and black. A faint moustache struggled to grow above wind-pinked lips, the dark hairs an indication that he was probably older than Ange originally believed. He smelled stale and damp, like a neglected dog, and his skin was the same color as the white police lines chalked around dead bodies at crime scenes. On each finger of both hands, in the long space between the knuckle and joint, blue letters like faded jailhouse tattoos spelled out FUCK THIS.

Sniffling, the stranger rubbed his nose, glanced into Ange's empty car, and saw the McDonald's bag warming the passenger seat. "Hey."

Ange studied him for a long moment, weighing his options. Drive away topped the list, but there was something about this bedraggled boy that gave him pause. Finally, after another sniffle and another wipe of the nose, Ange took a deep drag on his cigarette and let the smoke curl out of him like gray clouds in the darkness. "What's your sign say?" he asked softly.

The guy held it up so Ange could read it. STRANDED in bold, black letters that seemed to be all that held the cardboard together after a day in the rain. Beneath that, in small words he had to squint to read, the words, Please help. No amount too small. Get me out of here! Ange nodded at the fine print. "Where you want to go?"

"Some place else," the guy said, suddenly sounding so damn young. "Got any money I can bum off you?"

Ange shook his head. "I got some burgers." The guy glanced at the McDonald's bag again, hunger bright in his eyes. "Got dry clothes at home, couple dry towels, a shower to clean you up. Warm bed. What do you think?"

Those eyes dulled. "You sick pervert."

Without turning his head, Ange pierced the guy with his steady gaze and stared until the stranger had to look away. "You think I have to cruise the streets looking for a fuck?" Ange asked, his voice low. "A guy like me?"

"No," came the mumbled response then, unexpectedly, "Sorry."

"You gonna stay out here all night?" Ange asked, switching tactics.

With a shrug, the guy lied, "I ain't been here long --"

Ange spat out, "Bullshit." The word hung between them but the guy didn't argue with it. "I saw you first thing this morning on my way to work. You want to kid yourself, chico, fine by me. But I probably made enough money in the time you `ain't been here long' to get you a ticket to where you want to go. Where'd you say, again?"

Another muttered reply. "Anywhere, I don't care."

Ange waited. The guy looked at his hands, the dashboard, the steering wheel, up into the rain for a moment, anywhere but at Ange. When he ran out of places to look he finally met Ange's hard gaze, a quick glimpse, nothing much, but enough to give Ange the measure of the man. The boy, panhandling on the side of the road because he had no one looking out for him, no where else to go. Softly, his voice barely rising above the purr of his idling engine, Ange told him, "Get in the car."

The guy hesitated. Ange sighed and stubbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray between the seats. "Look kid, I ain't gonna hurt you. But I'm wasting gas sitting here while you make up your mind and I've been on my feet all damn day, so if you're gonna come along, get in now. Otherwise I'm going home and you can sit out here, freeze your scrawny ass off, doesn't matter to me. Just make up your mind because I'm about starving and these burgers are getting cold."

His hunger was apparently greater than his fear because he pulled away from the window and ran around the front of the car, keeping one hand on the hood as if to ensure Ange didn't take off without him. As Ange rolled up his window, he stretched one lanky arm across the passenger seat to unlock the other door. With a whoosh of cold, wet air, the guy slid into the seat, practically sitting on the McDonald's bag in his haste to get out of the weather.

Setting the bag in his lap, he opened it like buried treasure he'd just unearthed. Ange laughed as he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. The greed on the stranger's face made him look impossibly young. "Are these all for me?"

"Save me one." Ange gave the guy a sidelong glance and nodded. "So what's your name?"

"TC." The guy dug into the bag, barely unwrapping the first burger before he bit into it. An orgasmic smile spread across his lips and his eyes slipped shut in delight. "God, so good."

"TC's just initials. What's your real name?" When his passenger frowned, Ange added, "I'm Ange. Angelo Echevarria, para servile."

Distrust flickered across TC's face. "What's that mean?"

"Free blowjob if you can figure it out."

The hand rummaging in the McDonald's bag froze, but when Ange winked, TC stuck a few French fries into his mouth and grinned. "I knew I should've taken Spanish in school. Is it cheating if I look it up? My name's Tyler, by the way. Tyler Collins. TC, get it?" Now that he had something in his stomach, Tyler turned talkative. "Were you serious about me crashing at your place tonight?"

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