by Rowan Massey
“I’ll give details if you go to sleep so I can go get my dick touched again.”
He snorted and waved me away. “Jesus, man, do it. I’m asleep. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Okay,” I said quickly and scrambled out. I went down the hall to the sound of him mumbling about me being a slut, and I grinned.
Nando opened the door as soon as I knocked, and he pulled me inside. He kept one hand on my chest while he locked the door up, then his mouth was moving against mine, and I was loving the taste and feel of his tongue. We both stumbled on something on the floor and Nando acted fast to keep us from falling, pushing me against the wall. The back of my head hit the wall, and it hurt. I winced. His hand rubbed at the spot.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Your fault for making me wait when I’ve been dying to nut all over you.”
I busted out laughing. Fuck, it was awesome that I could make him horny. Me. The stupid, skinny fielder. I made him want to nut.
He pushed his body against mine so I was sandwiched against the wall. We were rolling our bodies together. It was impossible not to. His teeth and lips went up and down my neck.
“Listen to you,” he said in my ear. “You sound like you’re getting fucked.”
Was that bad or good? I hadn’t been thinking about the sounds I made.
“You’re going to suck my cock.” He started quickly undoing his pants. “I’ll tell you what to do.”
I nodded and licked my lips. My brain was starting to feel stuffed with cotton. He backed away from me and laid on the bed, one arm behind his head.
“Take your clothes off for me. I want to look at you.”
I pulled everything off as fast as I could, and he chuckled.
“Oh c’mon,” I said. “You can’t laugh at a guy when he’s getting naked.”
“Laughing ’cause you’re cute.”
He didn’t take his own clothes off, just watched me and gave his dick slow strokes. When I got on the bed, he spread his legs a it further, and I got on my hands and knees over him. I’d seen other people do it lots of times in alleys, but they all acted like it was easy. I didn’t know how easy it would really be or if he would like what I did. I looked at his face, and he was smiling.
“Have a taste,” he said. He put both his arms under his head and neck to prop himself up a little and watch me. I took it by the base and licked up the bottom to the hole, then carefully put my mouth down around the head. I sucked and moved my tongue against the warm skin. I liked it a lot. My dick was going harder. My right hand stroked him and my left stroked my own dick.
“Good,” he said. “Little deeper. Try it.”
I did until I choked a little. I had to stop for a second and catch my breath. His hand wrapped around mine, and he moved it up his dick a little.
“Use your hand to keep from choking while your going up and down,” he said. “And watch the teeth. Tuck your lips in a little more.”
I nodded and did it like he said, watching his face while precum spread around in my mouth. His jaw fell open a little, and he hummed a few times. He liked it. My dick really liked that he liked it, and I sucked harder, moving my tongue in different ways. If I’d known it would be so fun, I would have tried harder to find dicks to suck.
When my jaw got too tired, I sat up again and jerked him a few seconds, doing it the way I liked to do it to myself. I felt it twitch and something about that made me start to get close fast.
Nando pushed himself up on one elbow and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back down onto his dick. He rubbed the back of my neck while I moved my head up and down as fast as I could without choking myself again. My other hand was bringing me right up to the moment, moving at the same speed I was stroking him. His fingers tightened on my shoulder until it hurt, and he pushed me off but then didn’t let me sit up.
“I’m gonna come on your face,” he said, looking at me with his chin down. He put his hand around mine and squeezed. I moved it up and down fast, the way he was guiding me, until he came. It hit my cheek and mouth. I licked at it and watched him grin. Two of his fingers wiped it off my face, and I kissed it off. I stuck my tongue out so he could see it before I swallowed it, then felt weird. Was that a normal thing to do?
He laughed and pulled me close, moving me onto my back.
“Not bad at all for a first time,” he said, and started stroking my dick fast and rough. It was slick with precum, and his hand moved easily. I couldn’t help opening my mouth and making those sex noises. It didn’t take me long to come onto my stomach. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second and let myself really feel how good his hand was. He looked proud of himself and licked me clean before falling onto his back beside me, sighing.
“Needed that,” he said. “Things have been making me fuckin’ nervous around here.”
I waited to hear about the things making him nervous, but he only scratched his chest, tucked his dick into his briefs, and blinked his eyes slow like he was sleepy. I sat up and climbed over him to get my shorts and pants on. It was weird being the only one naked.
“You haven’t asked me about my jaw yet,” he said, his voice lazy. “Usually it’s the first thing people wanna talk about.”
I looked over at him and waited, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“It was when I got tarped. Couldn’t eat…you know. A lot of guys die with a broken jaw like that, but my cousins made sure I was alright. I thought I would die just from the pain, but they got me a lot of different drugs, and made me eat, and shit like that. They’re real good to me. That’s love. My family is great.”
I flopped down next to him and moved to lay on top of him. My finger traced the crooked lines of his face.
“Tarped?” I asked. I thought I knew what it meant but wasn’t sure.
“Yeah, over a year ago now. It’s scary. Real scary.” His hands rubbed my back in unison, up and down, but his eyes were on the wall. No, somewhere way behind the wall. “They made me help wash it off from the guy who went before me the same night. Lots of blood.”
He took in a big breath and looked at me, shrugging his eyebrows. “Worth it. Or should have been. They let me in real early because I was doing so good. I work damn hard, and look at me now. I can really move some shit, huh?”
I smiled and nodded.
“You don’t know much about gang life, do you? Living in your own little world.”
“I guess not,” I said. I wanted him to keep telling me things. It was special to be somebody he would talk to. “You can tell me, though. Why have you been getting nervous?”
“Oh, just uh…” he looked away again. “My uncle was the one who made them use a bat when I was tarped. They didn’t want to, so he did it himself. That’s why my jaw was broken.”
He was silent for a moment, and I didn’t know what to say.
“So, uh,” he went on, “I didn’t know he was back in town, and I was talking about my job. He heard me and said I was always showing off too much, so he hit me. It was like my jaw got broken all over again. It hurt so bad. That’s why I drank too much and got fucked up on the field. It just hurt so fucking bad. It always hurts a little, but not so much I can’t think.
“So anyway, you should know I’m not always like that. On top of it, there’s lots of bloody tarps lately, let’s put it that way. Something is gonna happen soon. They need more people for something. Starting to feel crowded. Now he’s saying we need to wear colors more. Show a presence on the streets. For who? Right? Blue Black are the only ones here, and they’re pathetic kids. We’re not some real big city with all those wars going on. The whole city is ours! Shit.”
His voice got louder the longer he talked, and he turned, pushing me off a little, to grab a bottle from the floor by the bed. Whatever was in it stunk, and he took a couple big swallows without sitting up, then handed it to me. I didn’t want it, and I capped it and put it back instead of drinking.
“Sorry,” he said and rubbed his arm over his face and mouth. “Couple tarps tomorrow. I don’t k
now why they want everybody showing up for it. It’s usually just the shot callers and family, friends, you know. They want a lot of us there these days. I think they’re just getting tired of doing it themselves. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know anything lately. You tell me if Doc says anything about trouble.”
His eyes had wandered, but now they made contact with mine, and he looked worried, like a kid who’s heard adults fighting.
“You would tell me, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, of course,” I said, and kissed him. He didn’t press his mouth against mine. My lips controlled the kiss, and I wasn’t sure that was good, so I gave his face some quick pecks instead, the way I’d seen Spitz and Fiona do. “Why don’t you go to sleep. We’re both tired as fuck.”
He nodded and turned his head to the wall, closing his eyes. I rested my weight on his body, and hugged him, then got up and took care of him. The blankets were a mess, and I straightened them out before covering him up. After putting my shirt on, I went and opened the door, leaving it cracked to find my way out after turning his lamp off. I paused before hitting the little switch. He looked like he was fighting sleep, making little movements and half-opening his eyes.
“Wait,” he said, “Wally…”
“Yeah?”
“Sing something for good luck. For tomorrow.” I barely worked out what he was mumbling. He was dead tired. My body sagged, and I felt weak. Maybe I’d make it through a whole song, and if I didn’t, he wouldn’t know the difference. I sat next to him and sang “Highway to Hell”. It was probably the slowest and quietest anybody had ever sang it. I did make it all the way though. For luck.
Chapter Seven
Dr. Sardana took my blood as soon as I showed up for work. The empty table space near the computers had unofficially become my special spot; my area to sit and sing when there was nothing to do. Doc gripped my upper arms when I lifted myself onto the table to get my blood drawn, as if I were a little kid he was keeping from falling. He already had the vials and needle tube thingy out and ready, and he stuck me as soon as he found a vein he liked.
“One, two, three,” he said, then the pain of it going under the skin of my arm. I didn’t need the count and didn’t mind the pain, but I didn’t tell him that.
“How many dropped by the morning?” I asked.
“Seven. A few came to us disoriented, but I think they were mixing drugs. Newcomers do that.”
“How many of the original ones like me and Spitz are left?” I asked, as he removed one vial and started filling a second one.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Tell me about your trip.”
I shrugged and couldn’t help smiling. “It was awesome. The fielders never let us down.”
“They don’t?” He looked at me, and I knew what he was getting at, so I ignored it.
A song came into my head, and I moved my foot to the beat. “You float like a feather…and a beautiful one,” I mumble-sang. He finished up and pressed a cotton ball to the tiny bit of blood in the crook of my arm. He put a band-aid on with a look on his face like he was carefully finishing up surgery.
“One step forward, two steps back,” he said to himself, fiddling with the vials and trash from the used things. “I get rid of the crawls and end up with so many drops.”
“What? Wait, you make the fielders?” I slouched back against the wall with my mouth open.
“No. Well, yes. I formulate and someone else cooks. That’s why I don’t have a lot of pills to keep for my records when things like this happen. They allow enough supplies through the town border for me to make a specific amount of pills or what have you, then they demand that same amount to sell. Smuggling things isn’t hard. I usually have some for my own purposes, but sometimes things slip by me. I can always ask my brother’s lab to help me out in Manhattan, but don’t like doing that.” He rested a hand on the table, done with putting his medical things away. He looked like he was holding back a lot of frustration. “They want me turning out better fielders, but they know I’m trying to find a way for users to quit the drug and live instead. But that would take away customers and a lot of the tourists. I’m always butting heads with them. Sometimes I think I should take over the town and get Barkley out of the picture, but I would hate the politics and don’t know anyone who I would trust with the job.”
I shook my head and threw my hands up. “None of you listen. Nobody would quit fielders. We don’t want a way to stop, Doc.”
He nodded without looking at me, basically ignoring what I was saying. I sighed.
“What are we doing today?” I asked.
“I have the intelligence tests I want to give you. There are several of them, and they will take a couple hours each to finish. You can take breaks. Do you think you can do that? It’s a little difficult.”
“Doc,” I said, sitting up straight and looking him in the eye so he knew I was serious, “I can do whatever you need.”
He smiled. “I know you can. Pull a chair over, and we’ll get started.”
The tests were floppy books full of questions, and each test had a couple sheets of circles to fill in for answers. They were long, and he told me I wouldn’t be able to answer all of it—to do my best and not stress over it. He set a timer on a computer and went and started doing stuff with blood samples. I wasn’t the only one he’d gotten blood from. There were over a dozen vials.
I glanced over my shoulder at the big middle table where I knew he did the cool stuff like a cook, and I wished we were doing something more fun. But I’d told him I could do whatever he needed, so I leaned over the test and tried to get the best answers. I worked at it until my writing hand was cramping up and the silence was making me nuts. I wanted to sing. I stretched my neck and legs.
“How much longer?” I asked. He was scribbling gibberish that looked like math on a bunch of paper. A lot of it was in a crumpled pile, and a few paper balls had fallen on the floor. We were both working hard.
“Twelve minutes,” he said, glancing at the timer. “Hang in there and then we’ll take a break.”
I wondered if he would be proud or disappointed with the test answers. I couldn’t really tell what the test was testing. It wasn’t like the spelling and math tests I remembered from school. My mind wanted to wander into lyrics and thoughts about food, but I made myself focus just a little longer and do my best.
When I heard an annoying beeping, Doc stood and smiled at me. I sat back in the chair, and he took the answer sheet, glancing over it. I’d been careful to fill the circles in all the way and not go outside of them.
“Do you like curry?” he asked. “I was thinking we could order Indian. I’m in the mood for spicy.”
“Is that what you ate when you were a kid? I never had it.”
He laughed. “No, my family isn’t much for cultural tradition. I just like it.”
“Then I wanna try it.”
He nodded, but his expression went serious. He was looking at my head where the hat had slipped back from my forehead. I took the hat off and let him have a look at how I was healing. A lot of scabs were falling off and making my hair look gross. His hand parted my hair in a few places.
“I’m surprised your hair doesn’t look a lot thinner with that much scar tissue,” he said. “If I can figure this out, you’ll never have to cut your head again. I can at least do that. I hope. Get rid of the crawls.”
I put my hat back on. “Yeah well, that would be nice.”
Why do you care so much? I wanted to ask. It’s just a few cuts a few minutes before the good stuff. The best stuff possible. But I bit my lips together and stayed quiet.
It took a while for the Indian food to show up after Doc made a phone call and asked for what sounded like a lot of things. I went up to the kitchen after Doc let me through the hatch, and I cleaned some dirty dishes he’d left on the table, wiped down the sink, and checked the trash can to see if it needed to be taken out. I’d seen him do all those things the day before, so I figured I sh
ould be as helpful as possible. I was singing pieces of songs and not really paying attention to my own voice.
“You don’t need to do all that,” Doc said from the doorway. “You’re not a housekeeper.”
“Yeah, but you hired me to do whatever you need. That’s what you said.”
His head went to the side a little and he gave me a soft smile like the one I got from Spitz after I let him have the last bite of something. He didn’t look away, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Looking right back at him and tilting my own head seemed like the thing to do. His smile slowly went away, and he looked sad. Did I remind him of his son because I’d done some chores?
The doorbell rang, and in a few minutes, there was a steaming hot feast on the table. Doc put a little of everything on my plate, saying I had to try it all. It was so spicy my nose and eyes started running, but I kept eating. It was a weird taste. I liked it. Doc kept laughing at me, but he was sniffing constantly too.
“I think you’re already looking healthier,” he said. “Filling out a little. You’re certainly cleaner. Are you paying for showers somewhere? You need to be careful in those places.”
I shook my head. “Nando’s.”
He coughed on his food a little. “When I was your age, I was nowhere near having a boyfriend or girlfriend, much less one I would have sex with.”
My fork froze over my food. He dated guys? I remembered being nervous at first that he wanted to fuck me. When I glanced at him, he was still relaxed, as if he hadn’t told me anything. Coming from someone else, it wouldn’t have been anything to wonder about, but Dr. Sardana was different. He was a mystery to everyone, and I was sitting there closer to him than anyone in the city. Maybe I was only just then realizing what a big deal it was that he’d hired me.
“You’re using condoms, aren’t you? You depend a lot on the fact fielders are at decreased risk for serious bacterial infections, but you’re still at risk for viruses. You know that, right? I could give you a little extra money for—”
“Doc,” I laughed, “we’re not doing condom stuff yet.”