Arapiles

Inkerman Street

Copyright © 2020 by Arapiles

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Arapiles asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

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Contents

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Epilogue

Chapter One

It was cold, one of those days where your breath comes out looking like a dragon’s and you can feel the sting as the wind whips along the road and hammers your face. I shivered a little, pulling my coat around me tighter as I got off the tram and began the final walk to my home.

The tram had been overcrowded, and full of the usual mixed assortment that Melbourne public transport did so well. Office workers and students and tourists in there with drunks and homeless wanting to keep warm. One of the former had been singing to me in a wildly off-key voice and muttering about Muslims, or “towel-heads” as he called them, most of the way down StKilda Road apparently blithely unaware of the rather stylish looking female lawyer in a hijab across from us.

Somewhere around the Shrine I had given her a look and asked in that unspoken way whether she was upset. She just smiled and shrugged, and I shrugged back, sharing a moment of our common existence in that simple gesture that would be lost on the drunken man spewing out his vomits verbal and particulate. Some days that shared moment was the best sustenance I had.

Today had been one of those days. I had survived a string of seemingly endless meetings at work and the determined efforts of some of my fellow workers to remove the last vestige of my will to live. Somehow that little spark had clung on for dear life against the slings and arrows of office politics and I made it out the door of our building just as darkness settled over the city and the flood-tide of people like me headed for Swanston Street and a tram to somewhere warm and safe. The drunken guy hadn’t managed to crush it, and the little exchange with my fellow travellers left me feeling strangely elated for reasons I could not describe.

Maybe it was the sheer banality of it, I reasoned, as I walked along with my ears feeling as if they might snap off in the cold. The whole tram had kind of shrugged it off, as if to say, what can you do about crazy? And the woman had taken it in her stride as much as anyone. If there was one test of our strength as a city, perhaps it was in our ability to ride out the crazy and not be fooled into reaction. Maybe there was hope for us after all.

Rounding the corner, I came towards the block of shiny townhouses that included my home, fiddling in a pocket for my keys . There was a half-crushed box full of some random garbage left on the pavement, and I hefted it with difficulty and walked it over to a skip sitting in the driveway of the townhouse next door to mine. The owner had been renovating, and the contractors had dumped a skip there and left it while they filled it with random construction garbage, carpet, pieces of plywood. I figured one more piece of rubbish wouldn’t be noticed, and I liked things neat and tidy.

I had just let go of the cardboard when my eyes locked on a pair of bright blue ones suddenly wide open in surprise. I got a glimpse of a youthful face, and a head with a shock of blonde hair, when the box impacted the same head with a clunk and the owner let out an oath and a cry of disapproval.

“Hey! Fuck you!”

I was too stunned to do anything much except stand there and watch the young man stand in the skip, reaching his full height still rubbing his head and frowning.

“Fucker! Be more careful next time!”

All my bonhomie was lost in a nanosecond, replaced by the kind of soul-destroying ennui I felt all fucking day whiling away the hours from meeting to meeting. I guess that was why I suddenly snapped like I did.

“Be more careful? What the hell do you think you are doing here in my skip? Right...that does it mate. I’m calling the cops...”

Ok, so it was a little white lie, but the skip was sort of mine. It belonged to my neighbour, and we shared a building anyway. Close enough, but mostly I had just had enough of the arrogant little shit getting uppity at me, of all people, when there really was no good reason to expect some random bloke would be in there after all.

Come to think of it, what the hell was he doing in there?

I didn’t have time to think on that question further, for the mention of the cops seemed to have its effect. The big blue eyes went wide again, and the fear was palpable. He gave a little curse before gripping the metal edge and leaping from the skip onto the pavement.

“Hey! Wait a minute!”

I could see he had left a bag behind in his haste, but I was not a match for his speed. Once I was a decent runner, middle distance mostly, but it had been a long time since I had felt the need to run fast, and now my running was mostly of the staying in shape variety. There was no way I could catch a young man in a hurry. I caught a view of a retreating back, blonde hair streaming behind, as he tore down the street as fast has his feet could take him. I hefted the backpack in my hands; heavy, battered, it had once been black but now was mostly just dirty. The label had gone, and the zip had a small frayed length of ribbon attached, but otherwise there was not much to identify it.

The guy had bolted, and I could not see him anymore. He had turned a corner probably, one of the many little side streets, and disappeared. I frowned, squinting into the semi-darkness to see if there was any sign of him returning, but the early winter evening made it difficult. Streetlights cast a stuttering blue glow, not fully effective yet, as the night stole over Inkerman Street like a lover and soothed its many hurts with the balm of deep blue calm.

It was that time of day where the many tradesmen fixing up the old and decrepit houses in the shabby genteel heart of the city left just as their new owners arrived back from the office. The tradies loaded up their trailers with assorted crap, overalls dusty and flecked with paint, to head to McMansions on the city fringe where a wife and two kids sat in front of their massive plasma TV in the open plan entertainment room and watched A Current Affair while opining on how abos or reffos or migrants or homos or hipsters were fucking the country. I had often wondered how they coped with their clientele in Inkerman Street, consisting as it did often of wealthy migrants, homos, hipsters and their fellow travellers. I assumed money cured all ills, as it always did.

One of the plasterers from my next-door neighbour’s was loading up. I gave him a wave and signalled him over.

“Hey...did you see where that guy went?”

He gave me a grimace and a shake of the head.

“Nah...moving like he was in the Melbourne Cup tho...”

“Did you see him round much t oday?”

He scratched his balls as he dug out a fag from his pocket. A quick flick from his bic and he sucked in a blessed lungful of smoke. I sniffed the air daintily, cursing inwardly for his casual enjoyment of the ritual. I had given up on doctor’s orders a few years ago, and fuck I still craved a smoke something fierce.

“Think he was hanging around a bit since three. Young guy, dark rugby top, jeans?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, he was over at the café begging when I went to get a latte.”

“Did he get anything?”

The big tradie smiled at my naivete. “Nah...you think that tightarse Chink owner would let him have anything? Fat fucking chance...”

I grimaced a bit at his casual racism, but I had heard it all before. He seemed to become bored anyway and gave me a wave as he headed for his ute.

“Anyway...you have a good one.”

I couldn’t bring myself to wish him the same.

I realised I was still holding the backpack, and not able to decide what the hell to do yet, I hefted it and headed for my door.

The entry hall lighting was perfect, LED’s set beautifully into stylish settings. The walls were broad expanses of white, with the floorboards polished spotted gum lacquered into a dark shiny rich finish that almost radiated heat. I had selected some abstract art from a local artist I loved for this space, so I could always see something I liked on entering. It helped me feel home, surrounded by elegant perfection that managed to create the feeling of distance. Life was to be savoured, but on my terms. I had given up savouring more emotionally satisfying aspects a long time ago, when the accumulated pains made me cauterise those parts of myself to carry on. Now I savoured this; material substituting for the spiritual. It mostly worked.

The tattered remains of the street were changing. Once Inkerman had been the epicentre of down and out in the city, populated by junkies, streetwalkers, pimps, drug dealers, and homeless. Now it was transforming, like a butterfly, and the transition was almost complete. There were only patches of the old life left, the occasional broken-down terrace or ro oming house, filled with the flotsam and jetsam of the city. The offices of the Prostitutes Collective of Victoria still held on, against all odds. You could still see the denizens of the night, but discretely now, almost apologetic.

The cops even came here again, where once it had been a no-go zone. Mostly for domestic disputes when someone started a circular saw at 6 a.m. on a Sunday to do a kitchen and someone decided to smack their head in order to punctuate their displeasure at having their Sunday morning sleep-in interrupted. Then all parties would decamp to Woodfrog for a croissant and coffee to make up.

Progress. Elegant, refining progress. Sic itur ad astra...with interior design and chrome bath fixtures and lighting by Nascent of Fitzroy.

I dumped the backpack on the kitchen table and leafed through my mail. Nothing of importance, mostly people asking me for money subtly or less so. I had long since got rid of my landline because of the same phenomenon; anybody who knew me rang my mobile, so the only people who rang the landline were telemarketers or push polling. I was not much interested in either, though playing with the Indian scammers was an occasional diversion.

I turned on the television to SBS, getting the end of Newshour, and reached for the menu stack on the kitchen bench. I felt like Thai tonight, and it would go so well with that bottle of Riesling.

Several hours later I was dozing comfortably on the couch, bottle empty, and the remains of a green curry with vegetables on the coffee table. I had tuned out the Scandinoir on the television and woke to find the late news droning on about interest rates. I stumbled to my feet, a little hungover, and noticed the backpack.

My scruples had lasted all evening, and normally I was a stickler for privacy. I reasoned though that if I was to find it’s owner, I had to check it out. So I trotted over to the table, and reached for the battered bag.

There were no locks or anything, and the zip opened reluctantly but readily enough. Inside was a mish-mash of stuff. A heavy jacket, in some sort of quilted mat erial, and a couple of old t-shirts. They looked antique, like 80’s castoffs with old bands and a retro Adidas logo, probably from one of those fashionable shops into retro gear. And even more intriguing, I pulled out a couple of magazines.

They were porn. Vintage gay porn...Hot Studs to be exact.

Now I was in full-on nostalgia mode. I had remembered this one...fuck, I think I even owned this edition.

Turning to page twenty-seven, I let out a little moan. There he was, the big fucking built trucker with the harness I had fallen in love with as a teenager. I turned the page...

“Ahhhhhh...”

I remembered him now. That thick-veined length of flesh had been responsible for a disturbing percentage of my jerkoff fantasies when I was fifteen. I touched his image on the crinkled page and smiled.

No sense wasting it, I guess...

I headed for bead, and a hot date with a trucker, and memories of ages past. I surprised myself, managing three decent loads that coated my chest and belly before I lost my erection and sleep stole over me still grinning with the magazine discarded on the pillow beside me.

When I woke, it was to a vague sense of disquiet. I shook my head, wondering what had got me to come out of a deep and most pleasant dream, where I had a dozen hot twinks licking my chest. Then I heard it...

A scrape, then a thud, and a crash.

“Fuck...”

It was whispered with some feeling, and it was not my voice. The noise was coming from the kitchen, and it sounded like whoever it was had knocked something over. If it was the Kosta Boda art piece, I was going to be severely disappointed...that had cost a fortune.

The noise got closer, and I heard the scrape of shoes on floorboards. Now I was angry, I realised, and though underneath I was scared as hell, part of me also felt really really pissed off. Shoes on floorboards...probably scratching up the lacquer. I always took mine off when I came in, an made visitors do the same, if they wanted to be invited back that was.

Climbing from the bed, I tiptoed cautiously to the walk-in robe. There was something in there I remembered, one o f David’s mementoes of youth. My hand touched the handle just as the noises approached the door to the bedroom.

I heard the door open, and a figure appeared in the doorway. I watched it stalk into the bedroom, with about as much stealth as a drunken ninja. His rugby top flicked over a picture on the bedside table as he reached across my bed, knocking it over. I turned on the light and faced my assailant, with David’s ancient Gray Nicholls scoop cricket bat in my hands, last reminder of the days when he strode the pitch like some latter-day Don Bradman, if the Don had been a gay dom with a wicked grin and a body like an Adonis.

The figure stood up startled, blinking those big blue eyes, and gave me a look.

“Seriously? Please mister, don’t cover drive me.”

I gave him a scowl. I had registered the outline before I turned the light on, but it still surprised me a little seeing him here. The guy had returned, and he had slung his backpack over his shoulder. The blue eyes were full of mischief, not fear. Somehow he knew I wasn’t about to brain him with the bat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I tried for anger, but it mostly came out as bluster.

“I came for me stuff. Found the backpack, but something was missing...”

I saw his gaze rest on the magazine, and his eyes widened. I cursed a little, realising I had been a little...overenthusiastic on my second cum, and a nice long streak of dried seed had crinkled the glossy paper right over a picture of the trucker showing off his furry asshole and low hanging scrotum and cock. Bingo...right on target. He looked back and gave me a wink.

“Looks like you found my favourite page...”

“Enough! What the fuck do you think you are doing, breaking in...”

“...um, your front door was unlocked...”

I felt a little chagrined then. I was supposed to lock it but falling asleep in front of the television after a bottle of booze had not helped my normal sense of order. Still, I was determined not to be put on the back foot.

“I don’t care! It is still trespassing, and I could call the police and have you arrested!”

He looked sad now, and th at cute mouth screwed up. I realised he looked like he might cry, and he turned away to hide it.

“I’m sorry...just, you scared me, ok?”

“Ok...” he sounded genuinely remorseful. I handed him the magazine, and he took it gratefully.

“Does it really mean that much to you?”

He looked down at the magazine in his hand, a little lost. “The magazine?”

“All of it.”

He shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got mate.”

I felt stupid all of a sudden, as the reality dawned at last on my sleep befuddled brain. He hadn’t just been hanging out in the street...he had been sleeping in the skip, to keep out of the cold. And I had taken his backpack, with his warm clothes.

He opened the magazine, and I watched him, taking in the details at last. The battered old rugby top, the faded 501’s, the way his big shock of blonde hair looked unkempt. He had the end tied with a piece of frayed ribbon, matching the length tied to his backpack, and a single earring in his left ear and a shell necklace around his neck. Tanned skin, looking dirty, and the blonde hair was also dirty. His eyes were red with fatigue, even as he smiled as he flicked through the pages.

“See...this guy...that’s what I want to look like!”

I smiled indulgently. “Aren’t you a bit the wrong build? You look more naturally lean to me...” and he did, lean and gangly, taller than me at a good six foot four, but with muscle under the skin still. Not like the big burly brute in the magazine of course. I also realised he was probably younger than I realised at first. Late teens at most, the fatigue and the dirt made it hard to gauge.

“Hey! I may not be heavy all over, but I am where it counts!”

That got me laughing, and he giggled cutely at my amusement. I relaxed finally, putting down the cricket bat by the bed, and sitting on the side. I looked him up and down, while he waited, a little uncertain, and I sighed. Me and my stupidly sentimental nature.

“If you want to stay tonight...”

“For real?”

He looked so thankful. I swallowed hard to cover my embarrassment.

“Yeah, stay tonight. Just one night but...you can have a shower and get some proper rest and...”

He held up his hand, not wanting to look at me. I knew the score, so did he. One night. Enough for charity, not enough to make a difference. Still, he seemed pleased.

“Thanks...”

“Spare room is out in the hall, first on the left. Bathroom second on the left.”

He nodded and gave me another wink, and headed for the bedroom, with the magazine rolled in his hand.

I heard the sound of water running later as I lay in bed, shaking my head at my own stupidity. I had no idea who he was, or anything about him at all. Except that he was cute. Ok, more than cute. And more than a little cheeky, which made my heart flutter and my brain go all gaga. But still; a mystery, and a possibly underage one too. This was a bad idea.

The water stopped, and I tried to not imagine the sight in my guest bathroom. The boy had no intention of letting me off that easy though, and I soon saw the door open again, and the sight of a tall dark figure in the doorway. I turned on the Philip Starck bedside light, casting a reassuring yellow low over my new companion.

He was naked, and he had washed all over it seemed, even taking the time to tend to his hair properly, which now flowed down his back in rivers of gold. He stood there, hands on hips, watching me and grinning.

“Thanks mate. You know, I guess you deserve a freebie...for letting me stay and all.”

Now I was flummoxed. “Freebie?”

“Yeah...I should charge top dollar for a night, but...well, you’re special, and sweet, and you have an awesome apartment...”

I blinked rapidly at this new information. It seemed the boy belonged in Inkerman Street after all, though I thought the police had managed to flush most of them out. They had decamped to other parts of St Kilda, or more often, advertised discretely on Squirt.com and hooked up in the elegant confines of the Melbourne Wine Room off Fitzroy Street. The old-fashioned street tricks were...well, old fashioned.

I gave a slight start as I felt him suddenly by my side. He smelt of soap and musk. Naked skin slid under the Egyptian cotton, and I felt him snuggled beside me, with his face on my chest.

“You are pretty hot for a rich guy...”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Don’t mention it. How old are you anyway?”

I blushed. I hated it, but I blushed. His hand found my cock still encased in my briefs, and I blushed harder, and felt my cock spring to life. I moaned too, embarrassingly. He didn’t seem to mind, but I didn’t want to answer the question, at least not directly. Instead I gave voice to the worry nagging my brain, or at least one of them.

“Old enough to be your father!”

He giggled. It sounded so sweet. “Mate, let me tell you, you are nothing like my dad.”

“How old are you?” there, the worry was out in the open.

“Old enough to know how to do this...”

“Seriously, how old are you?”

He seemed to sigh and gave me a grin. “Seventeen…now, can I get on with it?”

I found myself exhaling, a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in leaving me behind. Legal, at least. The morals of what I was doing, as opposed to the legalities, were a more complex beast.

His lips found my chest hair, nibbling, suckling, then across to my nipples. They hardened so much they were almost sore, and his lips and tongue made me cry out, then he licked down my chest and belly and I felt him engulf my length in the warm wet bliss of his mouth.

Fingers curled round my sack. I was proud of my balls, stupidly, David had always loved sucking on them before we fucked. He told me I had the best-looking balls he had ever seen, the first night we had long proper loving sex, and he kept on telling me that all the time we were together. The boy seemed to like them too, stroking the underside with his fingertips, drawing moans as he began to squeeze gently.

He threw back the covers, and I wondered what he had in mind. I didn’t have to wait long to know though; he gave me another wink, twinkling in the lamplight, and straddled my groin.

“Should be just about wet enough, and you are leaking like a tap mate...take it easy though mate, don’t want to wreck the joint...”

I tried to protest, but he put a hand over my mouth to quieten me. The other hand was busy, guiding my tapered tip to his hole.

“Ahh...shhh ...ffff...aaaahhhhhhh”

He sat down on me slowly but steadily. I felt the incredible heat of his ass, tight and yet yielding. He surrounded me with him, the feel of skin touching me all round, and then he squeezed and I cried out.

“There...all the way…fuckkk.” And I was, hilted in the young man...I was glad he was legal, because there was no way I was stopping now no matter what his birth certificate said. He seemed to know what he was doing though. Taking me, even with my modest size, with only pre and spit for lube was no laughing matter.

He rode me steadily, almost casually. I was nowhere near ready, not after jacking out three loads already that night, but he seemed in no hurry. I reached for his magnificent length, now hard and swaying before me. It was perfectly straight, with a prominent head, and I just enjoyed the feeling of it in my hands and stroked faster and faster until he lay his head back and stared at my ceiling and let out a wild cry and I got to watch him ejaculate, a fountain of spunk spewing forth from his pulsing tip.

Still he wasn’t finished, and he pulled me over until I was above him and begged me in his cutest voice to fuck him properly. And I tried, I really did, as he nibbled my neck and swore and yelled and ordered me roughly to fuck him deeper and deeper.

When I finally came, it felt like my balls had poured forth into his ass, along with every last drop of energy. I rested in his arms, cradled against him, and fell asleep to the sound of birds tweeting the old-fashioned way that the morning was due. They could keep the morning; I had what I needed.

When I woke again, it was 9:30, I was horribly late for work, and there was a spot on the other side of my bed where someone should be but wasn’t. I checked the apartment. He was gone; he had taken his backpack, and skedaddled. And I didn’t even know his name.

He had not just taken his backpack though...

“Fuck...fuck...fuck...fuck...”

Not very original, but I didn’t swear that often, and it seemed the most eloquent way to describe what I was thinking.

My wallet was gone, but that was not t he worst. For when I checked the table in my dressing room, I realised I could not find the watch that had sat on it’s little plate next to the spot I left my wallet. It had sat there, though I did not wear it, because I liked to look at it and remind myself. It had been David’s, one of the things he had managed to leave me.

My face screwed up in anger. If I caught that little shit...he was going to wish he had never been born.

At least I knew what I was going to be doing today.

The police station was an incongruous looking brown brick monstrosity amongst the fashionable Victorian facades. I liked it in a way; it looked like nothing more so than itself, a kind of fortress building that brought to mind the Troubles in Northern Ireland. All it lacked was a guard tower and razor wire.

Of course, that was not how it was supposed to look. This was the new age of policing, community friendly and engaging. I had to smile at that; David had talked about the bad old days when the police from this very station used to raid the bathhouses and bars in Prahran looking for gays to arrest. Now they rode around on bikes clad in revealing lycra sharing lattes with the queers. Progress was a wonderful thing.

Waiting in the reception area I saw my cop mate come through the armoured doorway and give me a grin. He looked good, as he always seemed to. Though there was a flash of grey in his close-cropped brown hair and a little in the stubble at his chin, he was still one hot hunk of man with bulges in all the right places.

“Nigel! To what do I owe the pleasure...”

“Got a problem Matt. Need some help.”

His expression turned ever so slightly concerned, just a slight turn down of the corners of his mouth and his big brown eyes misted a little. He nodded and ushered me through into an interview room.

Sitting at the table, with the tape recorder and the ashtray, I had a sudden chill go down my spine. It was all too familiar to anyone used to watching police procedurals, and the shock of being in one of these nondescript rooms made me contemplate my own behaviour. I was confident he was as old as he said he was, but still, I would need to be cautious.

“Matt, I had a burglary last night...”

He had his pad out, taking notes rapidly with his eyes narrowed as he worked. I hadn’t seen him in action before, and it was illuminating. The big bluff cop was no nonsense on the job. I felt myself liking him even more.

We had met in one of the bars off Commercial Road one night about ten years ago. David was already sick and had not yet reached the long dark tunnel of final collapse, but we had long since stopped being lovers. For most of our relationship we had been like best mates, who shared each other’s conquests and tragedies with the easy familiarity of brothers and a similar lack of physical intimacy despite what the incest fantasies may say. He even introduced me to some of my fuckbuddies.

One night when he was out at a gallery opening with an artist I couldn’t stand I had gone trawling for companionship and found Matt. I had no idea he was a cop, until the next morning when he pulled on the uniform as he got ready for work. He told me with a regretful look that he didn’t usually tell his pickups what he did, as for every one for whom it was a turn on there were five who ran screaming from his flat. But he could see it didn’t bother me, and I got a lingering kiss and then an impromptu blow job for good luck before he headed off for his shift.

We had the occasional fuck while David was still alive, but once he died I somehow lost the light inside me that powered my nocturnal activities and we had turned into mates just like I had with David. We caught up occasionally for brunch in Chapel Street and occasionally I accompanied him to the footy when one of his cop mates baled. I hated football with a passion but I never told him. I made sure I had my iPod with me though and listened to Rachmaninoff surreptitiously through an earpiece while everyone around me roared and groaned in turn.

“A burglary...what was taken?”

“My wallet...I’ve already cancelled all the cards. And...well, David’s watch. The Rolex, gold, it’s mostly sentimental but it’s probably worth twenty grand...”

His eyebrows wiggled the way they did when he was thinking and not saying much. I swallowed.

“Anything else?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

“How did they get in? Window, broke in through a door?”

“Ahh...I...um...”

Matt’s eyebrows danced now. He looked at me squarely, and very deliberately closed his notebook.

“Nigel, I think you had better be honest with me.”

I let out a sigh and dropped my eyes to the desk. My temples hurt, and I rubbed them as I spoke in soft gasps.

“He didn’t break in. He was a homeless guy I think, a boy, well young man anyway. Living in a skip when I found him, outside my place.”

Matt was smiling now, and I found the gaze made me feel warm. I cursed under my breath, knowing this was a bad idea but not knowing any other way. Still, it felt embarrassing as fuck.

“Very...public spirited of you Nigel.”

“Look, Matt...”

“Anything else you can tell me about our friendly young man stroke boy here?”

“He’s tall, about six foot four, tanned, blonde hair, lean build. Seventeen, he told me...”

“Really...and he is living on the streets?”

“I don’t know, but I think so yeah...”

“Name?”

“I don’t know.”

The cop folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No! Well...yes...but...”

He let out a snort and his nose jiggled in unspoken contempt. Still he looked sympathetic, and I hoped to fuck he didn’t realise I was about to cry.

“Probably a runaway Nigel. You know that right?”

“Yes.”

“David’s watch is probably long gone too you realise.”

“Yes.” It came out as a whisper, and I wiped my eyes to stop the flood I knew was incoming.

“Leave it to me. I’ll see if any of my contacts can help. Go grab a coffee, I will give you a ring if anything comes up.”

I was almost pathetically grateful, I knew, but I couldn’t help myself. So would the stag plead with the hunter if he could.

Taking Matt’s suggestion I headed for a café down Malvern road near the station. It was usually busy and usually decent, with a good line of single origin coffee and some useful salads. I realised I was hungry, and I tucked into a decent quinoa salad while ig noring calls from work studiously. I had told them I was sick with the flu, and though I knew that wouldn’t stop them calling I knew it would stop them persisting eventually.

After about an hour I got the call.

“You are one seriously lucky fucker Nigel.”

He sounded almost disappointed, but I wasn’t. I felt like a prisoner getting a reprieve on the scaffold.

Picking me up out front in his car, he briefed me in the few hundred metres we had to drive before we reached Chapel Street.

“Got a hit on your credit card, someone tried to use it at a 7/11 on the corner. Then one of my pawn shop mates came up trumps. You friend is in there now trying to knock off the watch for a quick hundred. Stupid shit has no idea what it’s worth. We need to get a move on, he is stalling him for me now.”

I felt a slight burst of warmth as we parked in a no parking space with absolute impunity and headed for the pawn shop. It felt like I was part of an old school cop show, only missing a surly female partner for the taciturn male lead. I guessed I would have to do; Matt’s partner was off today and he was supposed to be catching up on paperwork but this seemed to qualify as a special case.

The shop looked like a relic from another age, with the traditional gold balls hanging above the door, a window full of random merchandise, and a wizened man behind the counter. He was engaged in an animated discussion with the boy, who had his back to us thankfully.

“Now now sir, please be patient. I am just verifying the model and age of this particular timepiece so I can confirm the appropriate valuation...”

“Look just hurry it up old man! I haven’t got all day...”

“Yes, you do you know.”

He froze in mid-sentence as my Matt laid a hefty mitt on his shoulder. The boy tensed, and he turned his head slowly towards a fate he already seemed to know.

Strangely he didn’t seem to react too much to the sight of the cop. He did to the sight of me though. His big eyes went bigger still and he seemed to plead at first, then closed his eyes in resignation.

“Funny, knew it would be you mister...”

Handcuffed and sitti ng in the back of the police car, he sulked. I watched him, a little fascinated, and a little angry. He finally lifted his face and gave me a stare back, one full of resentment.

“He told me I could have it.”

Matt laughed at that, I just fumed.

“Really mate, save it for the tape.”

“I’m telling you the truth. He told me I could have it; the watch I mean. Oh, I nicked the wallet yeah but...”

“I said save it kid. We are almost there.”

We pulled into the garage at the back of fortress cop and Matt pulled him gently from the back seat. Even with the boy’s height, my mate seemed to be able to move him easily enough, and he was marched into receiving and a frowning desk sergeant with a look like curdled milk.

“Nigel, you need to wait in there please.”

He indicated a drab waiting area with industrial carpet and uncomfortable seats and a coffee machine that looked like it came out of the sixties. I settled in with a sigh and found an old edition of Good Weekend to peruse.

I had long since become bored and frustrated by the time my friend came to talk. He was not looking happy, and I saw him wince a bit as he sucked down bad coffee from the machine. I made a mental note to buy him some good stuff this weekend, along with a bottle of his favourite whisky.

“So?”

“Well, he is maintaining that he was offered the watch. I know it’s bullshit, and nobody will believe him. He is admitting the wallet, and otherwise keeping very quiet. He has been charged with theft...”

“Not burglary?”

That drew a smile. “Burglary needs trespassing Nigel, and you did invite him to stay the night...apparently, your cock feels good by the way.”

I mumbled and bristled, and my ears burned as they always did when I was embarrassed. It reminded me of playing sport at school and having everyone watch me make an idiot of myself. Today it was an audience of one cop, but it happened to be a cop I cared about which made it worse. He seemed to realise and take pity.

“He will be offered diversion I think, and a caution. He is being processed now. I will need you to sign a statement...”

“I don’t...I don’t want to p ress charges.”

Matt seemed to swallow then. His eyes bulged, and he coughed.

“Um...what did you say?”

“I said, I don’t want to press charges. If I can have my watch back...”

“Nigel, it’s not that simple!”

“Yes it is isn’t it? I don’t want him...I don’t want him getting a record.”

Chapter Two

I was feeling a little disgruntled for reasons I couldn’t quite pinpoint, so I headed to my favourite places to put me back in a good mood. Braving the queue at Woodfrog I managed to grab the last croissant despite the disgusted look from a young mother behind me. She was dealing with a couple of kids including one young girl who looked like she was about to cry as I clasped the bag containing a small mass of pastry goodness.

Somehow unable to stop myself I handed the bag to the little girl as I passed, winning a smile from her mother and a gasp from the girl.

“What do you say Samantha?”

“Thank you mister...”

She said it in the singsong way of kids in primary school, and I chuckled a little as I left. I had become unused to caring about shit for so long, and the pathways felt almost good getting a workout now. Perhaps I had the boy to thank for something other than the tingle in my rear and the tip of my cock.

Now I only had my coffee, but still, it was good coffee. I headed for St Kilda beach, finding a spot on the boardwalk near Luna Park and taking my seat to watch the waves. The ocean was grey, and the day was too, with clouds scudding across the sky promising more rain this afternoon. Somehow sitting on the beach like this I didn’t care. It had always been my retreat, even from David, and he knew to leave me here to have my ‘me’ time and contemplate the waves.

“Hello. Little bird told me I could find you here...”

The kid sat next to me with a satisfied sigh and a flick of his hair, and then he reached for my latte. I didn’t resist, too surprised to see him to respond, and he gulped down half my beverage with a satisfied slurp followed by wiping my delicious froth off his grinning mouth.

“Fuck you!”

He managed to look a little contrite, but only a little.

“Awww! You have to buy me dinner first.”

It seemed he was still as unrepentant as ever.

“I was enjoying that.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. Tastes awesome!”

“I was planning on enjoying it more?”

He seemed to realise then, gave a little embarrassed shrug, and handed me the cup. I had enough left for a sip basi cally, and I scrunched the takeaway cup and frowned.

“Awww mate, you need to turn that frown upside down.”

I slapped the back of his head, and he let out a grunt of surprise, but recovered quickly to flash a grin.

“So, most noble lord, are we going to sit here freezing our tails off all day?”

“If I decide to, yeah!”

As much as I loved sitting here alone, it was better with company if I was in the right mood. Somehow, I was in the mood, thanks to the boy. Wonders never cease.

“I think I’m going to snap my nose off...”

“Get over it. It’s not that cold.”

It really was pretty cold, and a Southerly was blowing right off the bay. It whistled through my hair, bracing and harsh, but I liked that. I picked up a stone and threw it into the waves. The boy gave a laugh and picked up his own. He let out a grunt as he heaved it, and it skipped along the grey water before sinking well out to sea.

“Not bad Andy...”

“I have my skills Nige. What about yours? Not much at skipping stones I see...”

“I’m a property developer. Oh, you laugh, I can see. I learned from David, and he was one of the best in the business. Half of Inkerman Street is down to him, pulling it back from the brink of decay and making it a good place to live.”

He snorted then, and his eyes turned dark.

“Dunno. I thought it looked pretty good before you yuppies got your paws on it...”

“How would you know kiddo? One of these stupid misguided kids all full of earnest well intentioned crap. I bet your teachers fill you with so much shit...”

I was getting heated now. Oh, I knew he had a point, and that was the point. He had found one of my weak spots, and I responded with vitriol. It irked me he could find that spot.

The boy had his hands up in supplication now, and his face was suitably sorry.

“Ok, ok, forget I mentioned it. Jeeze, such a touchy one mate. Chill my friend...”

“It’s good enough for you to try to sleep in my skip. Good enough for you to want to sleep in my place even...”

He nodded and looked away. I bit my lip, angry now that I had hurt him.

“I didn’t mean...”

“Yeah you did, and you are right. What right h as a homeless boy got to hang shit on you or where you live, or your lover. Tell me, about your guy, David. You talk about him a bit, but not in any detail, is that because you can’t remember or don’t want to?”

“Shit boy, you go right to the point. Well, we met around here actually. I got an internship in his firm, pretending I had experience in property management when I didn’t. He saw through me, but he didn’t mind, and then he found my ass too good to resist as well as my other skills. We were lovers for years there while nobody in his company knew a thing. Even when he fucked me in his office over lunch and coke.”

“I like Pepsi more myself.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed like a mad cunt. He looked totally lost.

“Sorry boy, seriously though. Coke...cocaine...shit, your generation are dumber than I thought. I thought you lot knew everything from fucking Wikipedia.”

“Laugh it up rich boy.”

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t feel superior, especially about that. We had a good time, all things considered, but it faded fast. We became best mates but not lovers, and then when he got sick, I was part nurse at times and part mother.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“He got AIDS, not surprising I guess with how many twinks he fucked in the back rooms of every club in town. Never was careful my man, especially when he had some nose candy on board, it was part of what attracted me to him of course, that sense of danger and absolute confidence. I wanted to be like that and turned out I wasn’t.”

“AIDS?”

Now I looked at him closely. Seriously kids these days.

“Fucking hell kid. If you are going to turn tricks in St Kilda, please tell me you are taking precautions. I know AIDS isn’t the scourge it was in my day, but fuck it is still bad even now. You have to be careful, even if your generation think it’s been cured. It hasn’t. I lost half my friends in the late 80’s and into the 90’s, so many funerals. David’s diagnosis came up in ‘92, and he lived for fourteen more years thanks to the meds, but he was never quite the same. Don’t take it for granted.”

He looked genuinely shocked, and I suppose getting a safe sex lecture from an almost 50-year-old was probably not what he was used to. Still he should have been getting it before now.

“Surely your teachers have given you all the stuff you need to know.”

“About...sex?”

“Yes.”

It was his turn to laugh now. I shook my head and muttered at the stupidity of the Christian right. It was worse than I thought.

“Mate, their idea of sex education is telling us not to do it. We don’t take a bit of notice. Shit, I don’t take notice of any of my teachers.”

“Why am I not surprised...”

“Except Miss Naylor. She is good...my English teacher. She gets me, I think. She even tells me I am a good writer. I’ve been writing poetry for her...”

He blushed suddenly and picked up another stone to send it across the waters. I liked it though, seeing him open up a bit. There were depths here, even under the coarse exterior of the boy. It made me feel good about helping him at least. Perhaps there was something here to work with. And if I felt I needed some justification for my own behaviour, perhaps I could find it too.

“So mate...are we going to walk into the ocean or some shit, or can we get off this uncomfortable wooden bench before my ass freezes off?”

I felt he deserved a slap on his pert ass for that. He just wiggled it at me and gave me a mocking grin until I slapped often and hard enough to be heard across the bay. That got his attention, and he gripped his rump and made a regretful moue with his delectable mouth.

“Oww...that hurt!”

“Well, come back with me and I will kiss it better.”

That got him moving, almost faster than I could follow. I smiled the whole way home, feeling more alive than for the longest time.

He hesitated before coming in though, looking up and down the street.

“Problem?”

“No...just, am I really allowed to stay?”

“Yes, as long as you remember my conditions.”

“Hmmm your cock only then. I can live with that. And I will try not to steal your Gray Nicolls.”

It hit me then, in ways that really gripped me tight. Was that how it was? Had I bought the boy with a bed?

Inside the door I pulled him into my arms and pr essed my nose to his.

“No, that’s not how it is Andy. You don’t have to do anything. Just be safe, that’s all I need...”

My words were cut off by his mouth. He opened his lips and rubbed them on mine, stilling all words or even thought. A delicate hand rubbed over my groin, finding my cock already semi hard and stroking the tip through my pants until I moaned.

“What if I want to?”

He took my hand and led me up to the top floor. I was barely inside the bedroom before he had stripped my jacket and shirt, and I felt the soft warmth of his lips covering my chest in kisses. He found my nipples one after the other, first just rubbing his lips over the tip, then using his tongue, then suckling like an infant. I was groaning hopelessly lost.

On his knees he looked up at me, eyes glinting with that mischief, and he slowly slid my zipper down and reached in to pull out my cock. I tried to stop him, but he batted my hands away easily, and soon I found myself gripping his hair and easing him down my length while I let out sighs of pure need. Those soft lips could be so very hard when they gripped my shaft, and he slid down so slow, all the way to my groin and back, his mouth lighting a fire in my loins that demanded attention.

He was in a playful mood this Saturday afternoon though. At the very moment I was about to lose it, he stopped, and lifted his mouth off me to blow warm breath on my aching tip. I let out a scream and tried to push him back onto me, hands wrapped in his long blonde hair, but he resisted with a wink of contempt. The little fucker...

“You cum when I say mate...”

“Ahhhhhhhh.”

Blissful return, his mouth covering my length with liquid heat again. His hands were in the game too now, cupping my scrotum and squeezing gently. I was dripping copiously, and he kept up the teasing, drawing it out like an expert.

“Fuck...please...”

He gave me that look again, and kept right on teasing with his tongue lapping just under the tip of my cock. I let off a deep heartfelt groan and let him do his worst. I just wasn’t about to stay quiet.

“Please...”

His hands curled round to cup my ass, and he stroked my cheeks before spreading my cleft wide and edging a finger deep into my crevice. Then I felt his hand leave me, and almost yelled, then felt it return with force as he smacked my left cheek. Then I did yell, and shot a line of pre.

The look in his eyes was pure molten evil.

He moved me until I was on my hands and knees, cock slapping my belly, hand rubbing my cleft. I moaned, pushing back against him, remembering David’s teasing. He would make it take an hour, and when I was done…

He knelt behind me, and I felt breath course down my cleft. Then a tongue, urgent and hot, lapping. I reached for my cock and he slapped it away with a growl that went straight into my perineum. What he could be with a little training…

“You are mine now mate. And you seem to enjoy it…”

He took an age, alternating licks with stroking, playing with my needy cock, kisses, until I babbled and begged. He ordered me to spread my ass, something David did when he was in the best of moods, one to make me scream. A hand slid across skin, my perineum, my pucker, down to my scrotum and back. I was so close.

He slid fingers into me then, slow, with a hand on my cock, the two hands in different modes, one stroking softly, one roughly ramming into my body. I came, emptying my body, spurt after spurt until I collapsed on the bed, my whole body shaking. It was wonderful, and it was troubling. I looked back to him, still not fully undressed, and stared.

“How did you know I like it like that…?”

He gave a sheepish grin and hid behind his blonde forelock

“Me mate…he kind of liked that too.”

I lay down still panting, and he resumed undressing me. I forgot I was still wearing my pants and boots, now only dimly aware as they were stripped from me and flung against the wall.

Lying back, sated and quiet, I watched him undress. He was beautiful, there was no denying that. While I mostly liked my guys with a bit of bulk, the lean body of the boy was fascinating and alluring in its own way. His toned pectorals and abdominals, his full cock and heavy scrotum, and his beautiful tanned skin. Brown and yellow, earth and sand. A beach boy, and one at home in the bedroom too.

Naked, he let me watch him now. I enjoyed the show, seeing him harden, the swaying length of his cock filling with blood until the full majesty of his erection was apparent. It throbbed, and it jerked, and he jacked himself all the while watching me. My own cock responded, and I was hard as a rock despite my recent shattering orgasm.

Smiling he walked over and straddled me, facing my feet while I watched his movements uncertain what he planned. He inched forward until his rump was over my mouth and his hands gripped my hips.

“Now kiss it better, like you promised at the beach.”

Mouth buried in his cleft I savoured the taste and scent. He was potent, the musk almost overwhelming me. I had to lick...his soft taint looked so good. I sniffed it first, smelling teenage stud, and then let my tongue lap at the velvet smoothness until I found a muscled ridge and a tight pucker that clenched at my touch.

“Now eat me out...”

He resisted, and I kept pressing until he opened suddenly and let out a deep sigh of contentment as my tongue sank into his burning depths. He tasted good, musky and funky, and I reached for him now gripping his muscled thighs and pulling him down harder onto my mouth. Every lick and thrust brought fresh cries and made my blood boil. I wanted, but the boy was in control.

Now he reached to tease my cock even as he rode my mouth. I was in agony, writhing under him like an eel.

“Mpfgh.”

I wanted to beg again, but I couldn’t be heard with my mouth buried in boy ass. He knew what I wanted though, I knew. He gave a little laughing cry and began stroking the full length of my cock while he wriggled his ass on my tongue.

“You think you are worthy of this ass mate?”

“MPFGH!”

“Hmmmm...nice and hard too...”

He slid backwards a little, enough to give me the chance to draw breath, and turned. His cock bobbed right in front of my face now, the piss slit leaking.

“Lick…”

I didn’t know where this dominant stud had come from, but it made me weak at the knees. He had me totally under his spell now, hands gripping my shoulders, unable to resist. He moved his hips slowly until his head was pressed to my mouth.

“Lick...”

I hastened to obey. First by lapping at the precum pooling at his tip, then by taking his head into my mouth with difficulty. He used my mouth as I had used his, but he had a lot more meat behind him and I struggled to take it.

Just as I was beginning to panic he pulled off and inched back along my body again. Soon he was poised over my groin, and I felt his pucker gripping the tip of my cock. Now I knew I had to intervene again, and I gripped his tip and squeezed.

“Andy...at least put a condom on me...”

“Wha...?”

“You know. A rubber. I mean it, I’m trying to be good, and after David...”

“Huh...you think you’re gonna shoot too fast mate? I doubt it after I drained your balls so good before...”

I gave him an impatient look and pointed at the bedside drawer. He sighed and took out the box of condoms and the lube. To his credit he rolled it on easily though and applied a nice thick layer of slickness.

“Now can I fuck?”

“Please, be my guest, you can....AHHHHH!”

The feeling of his ass taking me was incredible. I just lay back and let him fuck me like that, working his pliant ass down my length until I was buried to the hilt . He closed his eyes then, cock swinging up to slap his belly, and lifted off until just the tip was inside him, then he opened his eyes and looked into mine and drove all the way to the hilt. I saw his expression, no pain, only pleasure, and melted completely.

“Oh God I think I love you Andy...”

His breath caught, and he stopped for a long heartbeat, but shook his head and continued. His easy rhythm was beguiling, almost but not quite pushing me to the brink, the clench of his hole tight and sure. I reached for his cock, wanting a hold of that magnificent flesh, but he batted my hands away and when I tried to insist, he gripped my wrists and leaned over me pushing me into the bed while he rode my cock.

“No...not for you...”

“Please, you demon boy...MPGH!”

Kisses, sweet and raw and rough, tongue duelling with mine and then deep in my throat. He fucked my mouth and my cock, a sweating mass of testosterone and muscle, and I let him, bathing in the sensations and the erotic perfection of this moment.

When I came it was sudden, an ache that became a burn and I filled the condom as he rode me hard slamming his ass down on my hips. When I finished, he kissed me deep and sensually, then suddenly I felt his hands grip my shoulders and I was turned on my belly with ease.

“Now it’s my turn...”

“No...wait...”

His cock nudged under my ass, the wide mass of his tip feeling impossibly large.

“Use a condom!”

“Fucking hell mate...”

He had the sense to obey though. I looked over my shoulder, watching him slide the little latex sheath onto his length, then the glint of lube as he coated his cock. It looked even bigger now, and I swallowed in fear and desperate aching need.

“Now relax mate...”

I tried. He straddled my hips, then moved his knees inside mine, spreading my thighs and opening my ass for plunder. His body rested on mine, chest on my back, mouth on my neck, and he licked and nibbled my ears and blew hot breath on my ear.

“Just a hot fuck mate...just one hot fuck...”

“AHHHH!”

He took me roughly, and completely. I was stuffed with cock, and he didn’t wait to give me time to get used to his size, pulling back and letting the head pop from my hole and resting it against my clenching pucker before driving to the hilt in one punishing thrust. I screamed, and he pulled my mouth around to kiss me and my scream was lost in his throat and again as he bucked his hips and his head spread me wide and rasped along my sensitive tunnel like sandpaper.

“Just a tight hole...nothing more. I’ve had plenty believe me...”

I tried to protest but his kiss was like a death grip on my mouth and all I could do was whimper as he fucked me harder and harder. His body slammed against mine, demanding my total submission, and I gave it reluctantly but completely. He bit my shoulder and I shook as he pounded into me. I felt my cock stir, rubbing against the fabric of my soft sheets under his assault, the tingle g rowing into an ache.

“AHHHHHH!”

He went rigid, and his body slapped against me one last time. I felt him buried to the hilt, a slight heat deep in my ass. He came hard and collapsed on me, breathing steadily.

“I’m sorry Nigel.”

Before I could stop him he pulled out, and I let out a cry at the rough pain of his head leaving my hole. He stood beside my bed, unable to look at me, and reached for his clothes dressing awkwardly with his cock still hard and still covered in latex.

“Andy, please, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry Nigel, it wasn’t supposed to...I wasn’t supposed to...”

“Please, I’m sorry, don’t go!”

He ignored me, pulling his jeans on with much fiddling to get the buttons done up. He pulled on his rugby top and stood with arms folded looking down on me. He refused to meet my eyes as I propped myself up on my elbows and tried to reason with the boy.

“Andy, you did nothing wrong, if anyone did it was me...”

“No...you don’t understand. I wasn’t supposed to...I can’t. I just can’t. I have to go...”

“Please promise you will come back?”

He shook his head, tears now forming in his eyes, and he turned and ran down the stairs, his feet echoing on the hardwood. The door slammed, leaving me alone, perplexed, and sore of ass and cock. It reminded me of my twenties.

“What the fuck?”

I was still there staring at the empty doorway when the doorbell rang. I pulled on some boxers and headed down with a smile, expecting to find the boy had changed his mind and determined not to let him go again until he sat down and told me what was wrong. Instead I was confronted by a big comfortable looking cop holding a box of pizza and a six pack of beer.

“Hope I’m not intruding...”

“No...no...Matt...fuck...I...”

“Oh I get it, blondie is here...”

“No as a matter of fact, he’s left and...”

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying not to look at me while I gathered my thoughts. When I took the pizza and the beer he brightened a bit, and as I walked up the stairs to the kitchen he followed with his impressively stolid tread a jazz counterpoint to my more delicate feet all the way to the landing. When we reached our destination, I looked him over, noting the big body, the sturdy belly, and his kind smile. I lost it then, completely. I pulled him into my arms and shook.

“Errr...something wrong?”

“Just hold me Matt. Just fucking hold me ok?”

“If that kid has done anything bad I will fucking kill him so help me...”

“Matt, just shut up and hold me.”

He did, thankfully, one hand rubbing my back, the other on my head. I loved that.

“My partner is checking up on him, by the way. She started off in missing persons, so she knows all the stuff. She had the contacts there, so I thought I’d leave her to it. Remarkably determined is Kelly, but I guess girls are like that.” He was an unreconstructed male sometimes, Matt. He had attended training for it a few times but getting him to abandon his innate sexism was taking about as long as it was for the force as a whole. I rolled my eyes and found a smile.

“Are you still pissed off at having a woman as a partner?”

I knew it irked him a little, and he stiffened at my question but resumed his attentions. I sighed in contentment as he continued his work on my shoulder.

“Nah, she’s good. Says very little, but gets the job done. Just don’t know how she would go with an armed offender bearing down on her. Probably fold her hands over her eyes and pray.”

That got me laughing, and I needed it too. It seemed to amuse Matt too, and I pressed my mouth to his as he chuckled.

Then his lips met mine, and they opened, and I felt the heat of his kiss. I responded, hungrily, and without restraint.

“Ohhhhhh...”

The boy had relit the fire. Now I was in danger of it getting out of control, but I didn’t care. It had been too long. I gripped the comforting bulk of a big cop rump and squeezed.

“Not jealous of the boy are you Matt?”

“Of course I am you fuckwit. Do you know how long I wanted this again? How much…how much I missed you?”

I opened my eyes and looked into his deep brown pools. Hurt, anger, love, lust, all warred for prominence in those depths. I closed my eyes and ignored the problems for now.

“Please fuck me Matt...”

And if it was a n unusual command to give an officer of the law, I felt at least I could count on him to do it thoroughly. Feeling his arms around me gripping tight, I sighed and relaxed into his embrace, knowing I was right.

I lay there in the afterglow, my body covered in sweat, wrapped in his arms. He felt sturdy, like a supporting bulwark against a raging sea. I never knew cops could have so many uses.

“Hmmmm sweet mate.”

Nuzzling against his body we spooned for a long time, as I reacquainted myself with his body. His fat cock was still buried inside me, slightly soft but still sturdy too, like the rest of him. His gut felt good against my back, almost as much as the feel of his cock spreading my hole and the rough feel of his coarse mat of chest hair on my skin.

Then there were the arms and legs. Both like tree trunks, I felt his arms around my flanks almost crushing me but in a good way. His forearms wrapped me in a protective cocoon, hands clasped around my chest, and his thighs enfolded mine. I was wrapped like a Christmas present in a cop wrapper. All he needed was a bow.

“Better even than I remembered.”

I smiled at that, the idea that he had retained an image of what our fucking could be like, and the thought that I had somehow exceeded expectations. Always leave them wanting more was David’s favourite saying. I had proven a bad pupil after all.

“Not bad for a copper Matt...”

He responded to my teasing by giving me a sudden thrust of his cock. I yelped as he slapped my prostate just right, my own cock springing to life again somehow after far more orgasms than I was used to for a long time.

“Bloody civilians...”

“Then arrest me Sergeant, for insulting police...”

He went one better, handcuffing me to the bed. I had police fantasies since the early days with David, and it terrified me and aroused me to new heights. Laid on my back, with my arms shackled to the bedposts, I was completely at his mercy, and harder than ever before.

My man knelt between my legs, and lifted my thighs easily, wrapping my feet together in the hollow of his back just above the hollow of his spine , and he slid his cocktip against my leaking length. The feel of his skin drove me wild, and I wanted more and told him so in no uncertain terms. The cop was in charge though, and he just grinned and kept about his casual demonic teasing as if I had never opened my mouth.

I was begging by the time he had rubbed my scrotum into a frenzy with his cock, and nudged under it to press against my aching pucker but never quite entered. I felt him spread me then withdraw, over and over, and I writhed in my bonds and begged and pleaded and felt his hand grip my cock and jerk me to the edge and leave me there, helpless, needy and dripping, and he finally entered me with just the fat head of his condom clad mass. He used his head to batter a way inside me, always slowly though, always taking his time. This one liked to take his time, no place for the wild rush of adolescent anguish, just a long slow and thorough fucking that built inexorably.

Laid over my prone form me looked into my eyes, hands on my shoulders like claws digging into flesh, and stared into me as he pounded my depths. I needed his hand on my cock so much, the pleasure building but stalling over and over, and I swore at him like a dockworker calling him a cunt and a bastard and begging him while he ignored everything and just kept fucking me with the same steady rhythm.

The twinkle in his eyes told me he saw something, and I felt it too. The burn began to build, finally, too much to contain. I screamed as I shot, coating my belly in cum, and he began to thrust wildly, eyes now closed, head against mine as he sought his own end. His gasps and cries felt so good, as I held him now, my body quiet, orgasm drained, while his was just getting going. I felt his cock inside me, twitching on the brink, then the final hard spasm of climax, accompanied by a deep growl of release.

Afterwards we lay like that, sweat on sweat, skin on skin, mouths together kissing easily, until he rolled onto his side, his cock pulling from my raw hole with a regretful plop. He managed to get the condom off and deposited it on the bedside table, and returned to the spooning that had started this again, but this time with his cock now satisfactorily soft nudging into the cleft of my ass and coating my rear in the remains of his orgasm.

He did finally release me, after much coaxing and for a moment I thought he would leave me handcuffed forever. I didn’t realise he had an evil streak, or a sexy streak. I was learning.

“So am I better than blondie?”

I wondered how long it would take. My cop was competitive after all.

“Pretty good...though he aint bad for a boy.”

The snort was eloquent, and he tweaked my nipple. I pushed it into his hand, wanting more, but instead he teased the tip, and I felt my nub swelling from his attentions. It was distracting, but pleasant.

“What is it about him that made you go so stupid Nigel? I know, I know, I have no right to ask...I’m just curious is all.”

Nuzzled into his arms, I guess I felt I could talk for once. The memories came easily as the regrets once did.

“A few things I guess. For one, he reminds me of me a bit.”

“Come on, you weren’t on the streets...”

“No Matt, but not far off. My dad was a loser, and he knew it, and when he found I was gay, it gave him someone to blame. I ended up with an uncle and aunt with no money, which was fine because nobody in my family had any anyway, but it was tough. I got used to having nothing, and being nothing. I wasn’t on the streets, but it was close, and when I ended up with David, it was a kind of an arrangement at first.”

“What do you mean?”

I closed my eyes and remembered. It was not pretty.

“I basically conned my way into a job and bought it with my body. I may not have been turning tricks Matt, but it was only a matter of degree. I was just luckier than Andy, that’s all.”

“I didn’t realise...the way you talk about David, I thought he was the love of your life.”

I smiled at that and pulled him closer to me.

“Matt, not everything is black and white like you are taught in the academy. He was the love of my life...he was also a guy who liked using a young vulnerable guy for sex. Its not mutually exclusive. Back when I was youn g, it was not an easy life at all, and you made compromises a lot. That is the other thing I guess; he reminds me of David a little. At least how he fucks.”

The cop grumbled deep in his chest and licked my shoulder. I let out a sigh and backed against his groin, loving the feeling of a soft cock for once. The teenage boy’s stamina was a bit wearing I had to admit, and somehow the easy intimacy of feeling his soft length against me was a pleasure. No needs now, just sharing, and enjoying it.

“Things are better now Nige. We have come a long way.”

Now it was my turn to grumble.

“Has it Matt? Like it has for Andy, getting thrown out of home? Or for you...are you out at work? Why not? Bet they know anyway, but you just don’t talk about it so they don’t have to face it. And have you asked yourself why you are still a Sergeant and not a Senior Sergeant after all this time when less qualified colleagues have gone past you?”

“Hey! You don’t know shit mate...”

Chapter Three

The trip seemed to take a long time, even for Sunday traffic. I looked out the window as an endless procession of flat suburban estates went past, each more nondescript than the last. It made me nostalgic seeing this landscape so emblematic of the Great Australian Dream. I knew enough to know that many of these estates contained more nightmares than dreams.

I grew up in Donvale originally, which back in my day was solidly working class and full of Greek and Italian and Yugoslavian migrants who came over after the war to find a better life. I remembered moments of simple belonging which never came in my own family. Like the old Greek lady two doors down who would feed me dolmades and spanakopita and tell me in decidedly broken English about her time on the run with ELLAS. Or the kitchens, always outside in a shed, where they would make huge lots of preserves or sauces or cook for extended families on Orthodox Easter and a lost anglo boy could hang in the background and watch and eat until his tummy burst for once.

“Christos anesti...” I muttered the words, sitting in the back seat of the police patrol car, as we sped down the Eastern Freeway.

“Alithos anesti.”

It surprised the hell out of me when my cop made the correct response, and then he turned and gave me a grin.

“Yeah, been there done that. I was stationed near here in Nunawading and grew up in Balwyn. Been to plenty a Greek Orthodox Easter. Didn’t know you did too Nige.”

“Donvale, we probably ran into each other at Doncaster Shoppingtown as teenagers.”

“Fuck, I remember the cake shop...”

I smiled finally. Hmmmm cake...

“Ferguson Plarre. My favourites were the ones filled with cream with bright green icing that looked like frogs.”

“Fuck, I preferred the snot blocks...”

“Ahem! If you two elderly gentlemen could interrupt your stagger down memory lane for a moment with your zimmer frames, can you tell me where the fuck we are going?”

Kelly was driving, and she had been noticeably quiet until now. Her sudden question caught us both off guard, and Matt blinked a few times not sure what to make of it. I saw the policewoman’s broad smile in the rear vision mirror, and she saw me looking and gave me a wink.

“Constable, I have had words to you in the past about respect for your superiors...”

“Sure, I will show them exactly as much as you do Sarge. I learn fast as you know...”

The cop was smiling now too, and I relaxed. C learly this was part of their dynamic, a sort of version of Morse and Lewis. I made a mental note to ask about the policewoman some time.

“Constable Czuba, we are going to Ringwood station. I need to talk to an old colleague.”

That seemed to satisfy Kelly, and she grunted and resumed eating up the miles at a steady pace. I did see her look pointedly at some buttons though, and caught a mournful look from Matt.

“Problem?”

She smiled at me again, with the sort of look you give a doddering uncle who has fallen asleep in the punch.

“Nah, just wanted to use the blues and twos. Siren and lights for you lesser civilian types. Would make this go a heck of a lot faster...”

“And you know the sort of trouble that gets us in Constable.”

“Oh yes Sarge, but I know you like trouble.”

Matt scowled at that one and subsided into a huff reading the missing persons file. I decided to do some digging of my own.

“How did you find him?”

“Huh?”

“How did you find the file...on the boy?”

Kelly managed a bigger smile now, and this was a genuine smile of pleasure. I could tell, her whole face brightened, something I hadn’t seen before. It was so incongruously cute for an officer of the law I had to stifle a chuckle lest I piss her off.

“Ahhh that was down to Honeyb...I mean Heike, the records officer. She is only an unsworn member, a civilian, but she has been working there a long time. When I was sent to work in missing persons I came to know her better, and soon I came to rely on her. She came over from Germany originally, with her family. She still loves the pastry, that’s what I brought. Strudel.”

“Czuba…are you from a Polish background?”

“Yes Sir…what…”

“Interesting combination...a German and a Pole then...”

I stammered to a halt, seeing the eyes swivel. I caught a look from Matt, and it was the sort of look you give someone dancing the Macarena naked in a minefield.

“You got something against that? Worried she might launch a mechanised invasion of my provinces at a moment’s notice?”

“No...no...no...um...no...”

“Well, I would probably enjoy it.”

I dropped into a sound cavity formed by th at response, waiting for my head to stop spinning. Instead I heard the gentle tinkle of female laughter.

“Poor Sir. You gay guys are so fucking predictable. We are an item, Sir. You know, gay but no cock. Well, unless it’s strap on time, in which case...oh dear, have I made your sensitive gay soul recoil in horror?”

I was caught between a laugh and a yelp and it came out as a coughing fit. Matt rumbled protectively from the front seat.

“Constable...”

“Sooooory Sarge. You know how much lesbian invisibility shits my tail though. Sorry Sir...but yes, Heike and I are an item, and no she has no immediate plans to annexe me, though if we ever get marriage equality...”

“I’m sorry Kelly, I...”

“It’s ok. People underestimate her, is the problem too. She can be hard to get used to, she is an Aspie, and it makes her difficult for some. But she is also loving, kind, and smart. She has an eidetic memory for faces, which is why she is so good in missing persons. She can match a face to a picture in ways that the computers struggle to compare with, and she got your boy’s number in about five minutes flat.”

I nodded, understanding how lucky we had been, and some of the import of those words.

“Kelly, I guess that’s the problem for me. If she matched his arrest mugshot to the file...”

“Well, it’s happened before that people have had strong resemblances to relatives. He could be a son of the missing boy...in which case, he may know what happened...”

I looked out the window as we came off the freeway and frowned. Perhaps; but the knot of uncertainty still lingered.

We pulled up to the station and got out. I felt like an extra in a cop show, with the two in their uniforms with all the hardware. Perhaps I could be detective Nige, no nonsense dispenser of justice...

“Nigel, one rule. Eyes and ears open, mouth and bum shut. Capisce?”

“Capisco.”

“Not bad...now, onward.”

I filed into the station behind them and was ignored by the desk officer while my man did the honours. We were shuffled into an interview room and waited a long time before a sudden knock on the door heralded the arrival o f another uniformed officer from the local station.

Eyeing him up, I found my body rigid with tension. Something was wrong, and it took me a second to realise what it was. My nose got in on the act too, flaring wide to catch the barest hint of scent. He hid it well with mouthwash, but it was still there. The stench of booze.

I had to do everything in my power then to stop the instinct to flee. My past contained more than enough examples of drunks making my life hell, not least from my dad. I had never become used to it, and I still carried a huge bias against people who couldn’t control it. I had to physically clamp down on the instinct to yell at him.

He was a rather well-proportioned police officer, of perhaps mid-fifties or more. It was hard to tell, as he clearly had not had an easy time of it. His eyes were a little too bloodshot, his belly a little too round, and his walk a little too laboured. He bore the rank insignia and badge of a senior sergeant, but the manner of a defeated man. And his eyes were wary as well as bloodshot.

“Matt! Well it’s been a while...how the devil are you mate?”

I could see Matt was friendly but wary. I settled in to watch and learn. This one had issues all right.

“Great to see you Brian. Yeah been a while, I have to catch you and Sally again soon...”

The man’s face fell like a fallen soufflé and reddened even further. I coughed to cover up the awkward silence as Matt finally realised what had happened.

“Err...another time maybe Matt...so what can I help you with?”

“Andrew McNaughton.”

The silence was deafening. I watched the clock on the wall tick past thirty seconds, and then the progress of a large droplet of sweat on the side of the Senior Sergeant’s head. He remained through it all, staring into the middle distance.

“Ahhh...have to help me Matt...”

“A missing person case, 1982. Ringwood station.”

“Still have to help me Matt...”

“You were the officer who took the statement from the informant. A Mrs Helen McNaughton, the boy’s mother?”

He seemed to shudder a little, then broke into a smile and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s a long time ago Matt, you might have to prod my memory...”

“A boy, seventeen, student at the highschool, went missing on...let me see...June 18...”

I swallowed hard and almost choked. It was the date I found him in my skip, well, Ryan’s skip.

“...had been absent from home for a week it seems, mother had been receiving phonecalls from the boy daily though, and then on the 18 th they stopped. She called it in on the 20 th , no sign since, case closed...”

“Ahhh, maybe Matt, sort of familiar...”

“Seems a rather...hopeless case from the file. I remember you teaching me as a connie, you were the best Brian. So if there was something to find, you would find it. What happened?”

He managed to look somewhere around angry mixed with bored and snorted.

“Nothing to know. He left home, reasons unknown, called his mum, reasons unknown, and then vanished. We checked his known haunts, ran down everyone who knew him, nobody knew what happened or heard a thing. We stopped looking as was standard procedure and handed it over to misper for follow up.”

“Anything strike you as odd?”

“The teacher...can’t remember the name, seemed to know something but wouldn’t say. Other than that no.”

“Miss...” Matt was hunting through the file.

“Naylor.” It came to me suddenly, a fragment of memory. I frowned, as did Matt. The older Senior Sergeant, Brian, suddenly looked at me, and he was startled.

“Yes. How did you know...?”

“I...um...”

“Yeah, Miss Naylor, here in the file. English teacher…any guesses?”

“She knew some things about him she didn’t want to tell, I thought maybe he was into drugs, maybe pot, and she didn’t want to get him in trouble. She wouldn’t budge.”

“Hmmm...what about the parents?”

“Solid citizen types. Clueless, as most are. Look, what’s this about Matt?”

The guy was wary now and looking at all of us with a keen eye under the bloodshot. I felt it, a stream of anger now barely in check, and looked at the policewoman. She seemed to feel it too, judging by her return look at me.

“Nothing Brian, just routine. We had a lead that may have been related, from a case at Prahran. Just following up...”

“Seriously Matt, cut the crap. You are so far out of your patch it isn’t funny, and if there is something here you should be handing it over to the cold case squad or local CID. So why are you on it?”

“Brian, just routine really...”

“Really? I don’t buy it Matt. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to see the head of the gangs taskforce about my budget.”

The interview was suddenly over it seemed, and there was no handshake on the way out. I looked at the cops, who seemed to shrug at each other, and we shuffled out again and headed for the car.

We headed into the traffic without a word, and I found I couldn’t keep it up.

“Matt...”

“Huh? What Nige...”

“Matt, about your friend...”

“He isn’t usually that much of a fuckwit but he must be having a bad day.”

“Matt, he is an alcoholic. I could smell the gin a mile off...”

Matt seemed about to get angry with me now, but Kelly stopped him in his tracks.

“Sarge, he’s right.”

The cop stared out the windscreen, but his features hardened into a frown.

“Drive Constable...”

We came to an undistinguished crossroad in an undistinguished part of Ringwood. On the corner, a line of shops sprouted in ugly brown brick, with a copy centre on the very corner. I realised this was where the boy said he lived.

We looked it over, eyeing up the scene, while Matt read his file with a heavy expression before closing it with a sigh.

“Right...canvass?”

I looked lost, and Kelly took pity.

“Basic investigation. Some of these houses may be inhabited by people there at the time, or who remembered the family...we can at least find out. Then hunt down the family, the teachers, friends...but it starts here.”

“Why did our friend leave home...”

“Because he got busted sucking someone off in a public toilet...”

“That’s what your blondie said happened to him Nigel. I want to find out what happened to the real Andrew McNaughton.”

I was about to ask more questions when I heard the radio on Matt’s belt spark into angry life.

“Prahran Seven-Two come in.”

“Seven two over.”

“Free to speak?”

“Negative wait one.”

He headed into the car, and we watched him having a conversation with his mouth set in a flat line like a post box.

“Kelly, what’s going on?”

“Beats me Sir, way above my pay grade, but something is wrong. You were right about that Senior Sergeant, not uncommon amongst coppers I’m afraid, and he is hanging on by a thread. But something is definitely up...”

Matt rejoined us then, bearing a look like thunder.

“We are heading back to the station.”

“What?” Kelly and I made a nice chorus, but not a happy one.

“Brian went to his Inspector. We are warned off with extreme prejudice. Back to Sodom and Gomorrah for us Constable.”

The silence on the way back was as heavy as the late afternoon winter weather, which proceeded to underline the point by raining all over us just as we got to Punt Road.

I was dropped off at home, still fuming. The townhouse was empty and cold, and I found I could not settle. Instead I went for a walk, trying to burn off the anger with activity. My feet flew over the streets, and I found myself in Alma Park before I knew it.

A familiar face was lying on a bench, staring at the sky as darkness fell. He seemed unconcerned about the fact he was drenched, his hair matted against the woodwork. He just looked up at the stars coming out with his hands behind his head. I trotted over to him with frustration building in my heart.

“Who the fuck are you?”

He swivelled and sat up, looking at me while blinking away tears. I melted like a snow cone.

“Nige...”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You know who I am Nigel.”

I felt the frustration giving way to something else. My body shivered in time to his, my head rattling as much as my teeth.

“What the fuck...what the fuck are you doing in this park mate?”

“Leaving you alone Nigel.”

I reached out, gripping his shoulder, and pulled him to me though he towered over me easily and I looked up at his eyes still glistening with tears and screamed.

“What the fuck is your game!?”

“Just trying to do what I came to do and fucking that up too. All I do is fuck up mate. It’s all I do...”

I pulled him against me and kissed him on the lips. His pain and anguish then made me break, all I c ould do was try to staunch the wounds somehow.

“Come home.”

He followed me back, still dripping with rainwater, and plodded up the stairs leaving wet footprints on the wood.

I got him into the shower, shedding damp clothes like autumn leaves, and let the hot water pouring over him revive his body if not his spirits. Questions could come, I felt, but for now he needed something more like this. Something more like me.

When I went to soap his chest he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. Instead, he pulled me to the shower wall and gave me a soaping all over, with extra attention on my rear. Then I felt his soapy fingers find my pucker and slide inside with ease.

“Old beefy got you nice and wide I see...”

“Ahhh!”

He sawed his fingers into me rougher than was comfortable, but just perfect for what I needed. I felt him pull on my hips, until I had my rump poking up and out invitingly, almost wantonly.

The touch of his head on my hole brought me back to reality a little. Soap or no, I wasn’t really ready, and there was a small matter...

“Condom!”

He gave a snort and pressed against my hole, and I was about to yell when he let his cock slide up my spine, rubbing his head on my skin as he bucked his hips. Biting my lip in frustrated need, I was not waiting too long for some attention at least. He reached round to grip my cock and rubbed while his other hand returned its soapy digits to my tunnel.

“Fucking condoms...I’ll give you fucking condoms...”

He drew a wild orgasm from me as the water poured over us both, the onslaught of climax almost painful. He left his fingers inside me, teasing my prostate, and rubbed his palm over my aching tip. I was still hard, and still needy.

“Now...my turn...”

Shutting off the water violently, he pulled me to the bedroom. I was dripping, barely able to stand, and a little disoriented, but I sobered up fast as I watched him lay back on the bed, still soaking wet, and lift his knees to his chest.

“Come on Nigel. Please, we don’t have too long.”

I found my condoms and lube, still chuckling at that.

“What, going to run off again?”

“Just fuckin g do it mate. My ass needs this.”

Kneeling before him, I admired the majesty of his body. My hands traced every inch of his flesh, the long lean lines of muscle and sinew and bone, and the damp skin soft and smooth under my touch.

“Someone is going to be very lucky to have you if you let them boy.”

“Whatever....just do it.”

My tip found his pucker, the ridge of muscle exquisite to touch. I took my time, edging into him, watching the look on his face as he took me. I knew I was no match to his size, but I wanted him to feel it anyway.

When I was buried to the hilt I rocked gently back and forward with my hands on his length. He watched me the whole time, his expression guarded until close to the end. Eventually he lay his head back and closed his eyes, with a little pink tongue extended to sample the night. His sighs became moans became cries and he clamped his ass down so tight as he came, the liquid evidence of his pleasure everywhere to see as he painted his chest with it. I leaned forward to lick it off and kept on fucking and jacking him and he grinned back like a maniac.

“Fine Nige...good Sir…nice Sir...”

Then I bit his nipple.

“Hey! Right...”

I was suddenly and rather violently pushed off and thrown on my belly. A grinning boy looked down with malicious intent.

“Condoms?”

“On the bedside table...”

He let me lie there while he covered up, then made me watch his slow deliberate lubrication, his fingers seeming to delight in the touch of his own flesh even covered in latex.

“Waiting here boy...”

“Shhh....such a needy one...”

“Still waiting....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

Lying over me, he entered easy, the head spreading me wide and the rest following like a beautiful flow of heat, even the fat base not enough to cause me pain. He kicked my knees wide, bit down on my shoulder playfully, and pulled back until his tip nuzzled my ring.

“Gonna miss this...”

“Wha...”

My question was lost in a scream as he rammed to the hilt with all the force of a teenage boy. Then my scream was lost in his mouth as he pulled mine round into a kiss and fucked me again, no less powerfully. I a ched, and I shuddered, and I pushed back to take more as he began to wildly ride my rump with a heat and rage I never knew he had.

“So tight, and so needy. You will enjoy that big cop, he will treat this ass right...”

“Yeah? Can’t I have some blonde surfer boy too?...AHHH!”

He slapped my ass and gripped my head and pounded into me until it hurt, spanking me playfully on the ass on each thrust lighting twin fires in my body. It felt good too, way too good, my poor hole split wide open, my cheeks on fire, the taut skin of my depths strained to breaking point. He began to thrust faster, then deeper, then I felt his body tense and knew it was close.

“Ohhh...ohhhh...ohhh...OHHHHH!”

A last few thrusts and he lay still buried to the hilt inside me, the heat of his cum still present even through the latex. He lay there while I writhed, then he pulled me into a kneeling position in his arms, resting on his thighs, and he gripped my cock.

“Can’t leave you there can we Nige.”

“No...oh...oh....ohhhhh...”

It was my turn to lose control. His hand felt beautiful on my length, and he bucked his hips just enough to tease my hole with his head. I came, falling back into his arms, but he wasn’t satisfied. One hand twisted a nipple hard enough to draw blood, the other kept on working my cock. I was begging him to stop by the time I shot my third load of the night and lost all feeling in my arms and legs. I toppled onto the bed then, and he followed, holding me in his arms in a wet exhausted pile.

I should not have been able to fall asleep like that but I did, too satisfied and too tired to care. He was still there when I woke, feeling wet clammy and cold, and I headed to the bathroom to dry off and the cupboard to get fresh sheets.

He was awake by the time I returned, reaching for his clothes.

“No. Please, Andy. No.”

He was crying again, I saw. I went to him and licked the tears from his eyes, feeling him shaking against my chest.

“Please don’t go...”

The sofa in the living room folded out into a makeshift bed, and I brought fresh bedclothes down and lay there in his arms talking abo ut my life, about David, about my job which I hated, about the street, about nothing and everything, and even about an old Greek lady who fed me dolmades and spanakopita and made me feel home when nothing made me feel home. He held me all the time, though about dawn he began to shake, and I went to get him something for the headache and pulled him under the bedclothes and we watched the dawn coming through the windows and the birds going about their feathered business in the trees.

I had fallen asleep without realising it and woke to find the boy still in my arms, and visitors in the lounge. One policeman, and one policewoman.

Matt looked very unhappy.

“Matt...”

“Don’t. Just...don’t.”

“Matt...”

The boy woke with a start, and tried to sit up, then stopped half way and stared at the cop.

“What is your game kid?”

Matt spat it, the venom clear in his voice. I tried to conciliate.

“Matt, please, he doesn’t deserve this...”

“How do you know what he deserves Nigel? You know nothing about him at all. But I know he knows too much about stuff he shouldn’t, and that makes him a suspect to my mind. What about it boy?”

The boy was remarkably composed, given he was naked in bed with me, and facing my lover who was clearly pissed off and a fair bit broader than him. Kelly just stood to the side trying not to look.

“Nigel, it’s ok. He is right.”

“Yes, tell us boy. Who are you?”

“Andy McNaughton, I told you.”

“No. You. Are. NOT!”

The cop strode forward like a colossus and now stood face to face with the boy. I tried to pull them apart, my own tears starting to flow.

“Matt, stop this...”

“Nigel, leave this to me. So boy, what is your game here?”

“Are you going to arrest me officer?”

“Don’t think I couldn’t. I could make up plenty of charges that would stick.”

“I’m sure of it. But are you going to?”

“We have been out to Ringwood. And we are going back today. We are going to speak to everyone associated with the real Andrew McNaughton, and we are going to find out what your angle is boy. And then I am going to personally enjoy watching you go down.”

The boy nodded sadly and finished d ressing, turning only once to look at me. He hefted his backpack over his shoulder, and his eyes were wide and full of hurt, and the tears fell freely now.

“Tell Cam...tell Cameron...”

“What? Who?” I was confused now. I had never heard him mention a Cameron before.

The boy shook his head.

“Nothing. Don’t bother.”

He turned and trudged down the stairs, and I watched him go without a word.

After I showered and dressed, I found Kelly making toast in my kitchen while Matt stomped around sneering at the furniture. She handed me a plate with vegemite toast and I found myself eating in spite of myself.

“What are we doing, leave aside the boy?”

“We are going back to Ringwood Nigel.” The cop rumbled. “Oh, I know we aren’t supposed to but I am going anyway, and Kelly agreed to go with me. We aren’t official, off the clock. But we are going. Are you coming with us?”

“It’s Monday...”

“Call in sick. You are sick, after all, otherwise you wouldn’t be fucking that boy.”

I saw the hurt and the pain then and chose to ignore it. One damaged soul at a time.

“Fine Matt. Fine. Let’s go.”

Morning peak hour traffic is a bitch, but at least we were heading in the right direction. I was grateful the traffic wasn’t too bad, as Kelly seemed keen on making things worse for some reason.

“Cute boy you got there Sir.”

Epilogue

Winter headed for spring, and the sale of my townhouse passed without incident. It was part of the gift David had left me, and it netted more than enough to do what we intended alongside Matt’s savings.

The case had entered the news with a splash, formenting comment, controversy and froth and bubble from the twitterati. It was as well that they knew less than half the truth, for what the great unwashed would have made of it didn’t bear thinking about.

It ignited a debate about gay youth, and the consensus seemed to be that things were so much better now in this new enlightened age. I knew it was not so clear cut, but I could not be bothered to fight the fight. It was too much to just live myself and get through the hundred and one little disappointments of living the reality of being gay. As I said to Matt that night, we were still the problem, even in death.

It was felt that the two cops would receive a long sentence, and this would somehow make up for how much society had failed the Andy’s of this world. And the Cameron’s.

I saw him at the funeral, when they finally laid the boy to rest. Andy was seen off by a pair of forensics officers dressed as elegantly as they had for an Anniversary dinner on a cold night they ended up missing, a policewoman with Polish blood in her veins and a records officer from Germany holding hands, a retired teacher who cried several decades worth of tears, a soon to be ex cop and an ex property developer, and a smattering of those who knew him in a better life. He went to his delayed grave with the wallet on his chest, but the final talisman had a reprieve when his love Cameron wanted to keep it, and the book of poems went to him and he read again the words his love had written for him in his youth. He also went with an expensive old watch in his coffin. I felt I owed the debt my David had taken on, and somehow I knew he was right. Letting go of that watch was the step I needed to let go of him. Cameron was a broken man, but somehow he was healing too. I saw that when he embraced Andy’s mother, the two locked in the same emotion thirty-two years late.

Matt had taken up residence with me, and together we prepared for our new life down South. In truth I would not miss this place much. The boy was right, the street had changed into something I no longer recognised, even though I had had a hand in making it like this. The shining facades and the forest of hipsters felt like so many other places in the city, it could be a street in any one of a dozen suburbs. Few of those who cruised down the pavement on a Sunday afternoon looking for brunch and a place to be seen would know what had happened here, back in a time when life was both harder and more true.

Walking with my man after the auction, we stumbled into Alma park, and I saw a small crowd gathered around a garden bed arguing. It looked intriguing, and we were drawn to it like moths to a candle. An earnest lady was engaged in heated conversation with a council worker, and the crowd was enjoying the show.

“What’s going on here mate?”

Matt sill felt like a policeman, and he had the instincts of one. He wanted to calm the scene and get everyone about their business. The harassed worker with the shovel read the signs and was suddenly at ease.

“Look mate, it’s just my job see...”

“What is?”

“I have to prepare that garden bed, and that isn’t supposed to be there!”

I looked at where he was pointing, and my breath caught in my throat. There in a large circular garden bed a whole lot of daffodils had sprung from the earth, forming a perfect heart shape in yellow and white and green. The crowd seemed to think it belonged there.

“I know what they are saying, but we didn’t plant it. It’s supposed to be covered in clivias now, and I’m supposed to do it. They won’t let me!”

“How odd...”

Matt pondered this miracle, but I knew what it was, and I couldn’t help laughing as I wrapped him in my arms and thought of a mischievous boy who terrorised his teachers and got detention working in the school gardens as his punishment. He was pretty good too, it seemed, and his timing was impeccable.

“Matt...I think I know who did this.”

He stiffened and looked at me incredulous at first then with a dawning smile.

“We can’t let them dig it up then.”

I looked back at the garden and shrugged.

“They are daffodils Matt. They will flower like this for a brief while then die off. They won’t last much longer anyway.”

“Still...”

I pulled him against me and kissed his neck.

“We’ve seen it. That’s the most important. Besides, didn’t you tell me that was how we were too. We were made stronger, so we would always survive and bounce back anyway. And beauty and love finds a way, even the council can’t destroy that. We remember it.”

We walked back arm in arm along Inkerman street, past the townhouses and the few remaining old terraces, past the homeless and the hipsters and the druggies and the bankers and ignored them all, each holding a daffodil salvaged from the garden bed. And if a man and a boy were looking down on us, I hoped they didn’t mind waiting a little longer. I had unfinished business too, and I didn’t like to be rushed.