To pay for Aglionby, Adam had worked three jobs. He’d also been part of the debate team, and the chess team, and the track team. Not because he cared about any of their preppy rich kid bullshit but because he’d known he needed extra-curriculars if he wanted to get into a good school. He hadn’t made any friends though, had kept his head down and avoided the eyes of his classmates. Sure he got beat up from time to time but if there was anything Adam knew how to do, it was take a punch, so it didn’t really faze him.
It went downhill end of sophomore year. His dad found out how much money he’d really been spending on school and the beating was… bad. Adam was still deaf in his left ear. He thought about pressing charges but he had nowhere to go, he had to stay in Henrietta. But his dad started purposely stopping him from going to school, to his jobs, monitoring his bank account. Adam couldn’t live like that. So quietly, with forethought and planning and effort, he left.
He thought out the school situation most. There was another prestigious private school in D.C. that had ties with Aglionby called Darmoth. He talked to the counselor and the dean of students and just about everyone who would listen until they agreed to transfer him to the other school for his final two years. The thing was, living in the city was more expensive than living at home, and he needed to find new jobs in a city full of unemployed people.
He knew he had to do it though. He snuck around and planned and plotted his way through the end of the school year, and then, just as summer was turning the fields brown and chalky, he left.
Adam had his bike, a backpack full of clothes and $300 dollars in his sock. It was hopefully enough to get him to D.C. but not enough to set him up once he got there. But he knew if he stayed in his father’s house he wouldn’t survive. He was leaving now, giving himself the three months before school started to figure it out.
So he left. He biked a few miles at a time, walking every few hours to give his ass a break. He wanted to go pretty far in that first day, just in case his dad came looking for him. He made it into a small town just as it was getting dark and found his way to the cheapest motel. When he checked in, he gave them the name on the fake id he’d gotten off an Aglionby kid before he left.
He didn’t sleep that night, waiting to hear the growl of his father’s car or the stomp of his boots. But in the morning he called himself stupid. Like his father cared enough to come after him, he was probably glad to be rid of him.
The next day he went slower, tired and hungry since he’d now had only gas station food for two days. He thought about ditching his bike and hitchhiking but he wasn’t sure it was worth it. He came across a bike shop in the next town over and they offered him $85 for it, which was a miracle given how old and crappy it was. He took the deal and started walking, thumb up beside him. He didn’t have much luck for most of the day, but around dinner time he was passing a truck stop just as a truck was pulling out.
“Hey,” a gruff voice said, “You need a ride?” Truck Driver was bearded and dirty but he didn’t look like an axe murderer, and besides Adam’s feet were absolutely killing him. So Adam figured out that Truck Driver was going in the general direction of D.C. for a few hours and hopped in the cab. There was air conditioning. Not perfect, it was mostly hot air, but it was better than the air outside and Adam almost cried in relief at letting his legs rest. He must have fallen asleep because when he woke up it was dark and the radio was on an old hits station. Adam tried not to think about what he was going to do once he got to D.C. He just needed to get there.
“What’s a kid like you doin’ out here?” Truck Driver asked, southern drawl more pronounced than Adam’s own.
“Not a kid. And I’m moving to D.C.”
“Hmm, big place for a little kid.”
“I’ll manage.” Adam said, thankful for the ride but not willing to talk to this condescending older man.
“You’re pretty though,” Truck Driver said. “That’s always a plus in the city.”
Adam stiffened. He suddenly was aware of how dark it was inside the cabin, only headlights coming towards them lighting up their faces. And it was loud, roaring like a beast about to charge. But most of all, it was small, just a bare foot between Adam’s knee and the truck driver’s.
“You lookin’ to make some money kid? Movin’ somewhere new always takes a lot of cash.”
Adam thought about the money wadded in his sock. He thought about how much a down payment on an apartment might be, how many nights he might have to spend on the street before he got a job, how many times he would have to use a motel to make himself presentable before an interview.
“Yeah,” he said, words only a little sticky in his throat, “I could use some money.”
Truck Driver dropped him off $30 dollars richer with the taste of come still in the back of Adam’s mouth. He tried to tell himself it was still better than living in his father’s house. Besides he’d never made $30 for 20 minutes work in his life, he should be happy. He wasn’t, but he didn’t let himself think about it, and splurged on a decent hotel room that night using his bike money.
He slept well that night and had a shower the next morning before putting on his slightly cleaner Coca-Cola t-shirt and setting off again, thumb in the air and eyes out for any truck stops.
That was four months ago. It was starting to get cold now and Adam was doing better, for a given definition of better. He had an apartment, that was definitely a good thing. He shared it with two girls, a couple, and he slept on the pull out couch, but it was cheap, cheaper than housing through Darmoth. And they mostly left him alone to study in peace. He had two jobs, officially. One was at a mechanic’s shop, Carl’s, a mile or so from his apartment. The other was as a barista at a coffeeshop just a few blocks from Darmoth. That last one was all luck. He’d studied there with his cheap drip coffee enough times and he always cleaned up after himself and everyone around him. He hadn’t really done it with a purpose, just hated the idea of rich kids leaving messes for other people to clean up. Finally one of the baristas, Blue, had taken notice of the nice regular and had talked to the manager about offering him a job.
He had another job too, unofficially. Its hours were more flexible, basically whenever he was too caffeinated to sleep after he finished studying, or when Clara and Jamie were fucking loudly enough to wake him up. He’d pull on his most ripped jeans, his smallest t-shirt and jacket and take a bus to the really crappy part of town. This job was harder on his knees but easier in just about every other way. He wasn’t sure how good he was, never had complaints but also didn’t have many regulars. He liked to think he’d learned a few things over the last few months but it wasn’t like anyone was giving pointers to the guy sucking them off.
It was a Friday. He’d just finished a late shift at Carl’s and he knew he had to be up early in the morning writing a paper for school. But the thing was, rent had been due this past Wednesday and although he had had enough he’d been left with about $10 to buy food for the next two weeks until his check from the coffee shop came in. So he knew he had to pick up an “extra shift” so to speak at his third job. He didn’t have time to go home and change, he knew the late night crowd petered off around midnight. So there he was, in the opening to his usual alleyway, underneath a streetlamp, hands in his jeans pockets to hide the grease stains on his fingers. A BMW drove slowly past and Adam watched it carefully. He’d chosen this location very specifically. It wasn’t a place with a lot of cops, he’d made sure of that. But it also between two major tourist traps so rich kids trying to find their way around often ended up here. This looked like exactly that kind of car, going too slow and too ostentatious for the neighborhood. But it didn’t stop in front of him when he walked a little closer to the curb. So he let it pass and thought nothing of it. But then the same grey BMW came back the other direction a minute later and stopped across the street from him. Adam watched it carefully. The window rolled down but no head emerged from the dark interior, just a voice.
There was no one else around which was both a good and bad thing. Adam was always acutely aware of the knife’s edge he danced on between getting caught and getting hurt. But he looked at the shiny rims and he couldn’t turn it down, just walked placidly across the street.
“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, hands on the edge of the open window. Inside the car was shadow and the thumping of a bass line.
“Do you fuck?” came the voice, sharp and crackling with energy, like a thunderstorm about to break.
“No.” Adam said, which wasn’t precisely true. He let dudes fuck him before, but he didn’t have the necessary supplies right now and besides, he didn’t like the sound of this guy. But he remembered his empty half of the fridge at home and added, “But I can suck you off.”
The guy grunted and Adam wasn’t sure what that meant.
“How much?” he asked.
The nice thing about guys like this was that it was easy to charge more, they wouldn’t even notice. With as much money as they had twenty bucks either way sounded the same to them.
“Where?” he asked.
“Wherever you want.” Adam said, against his better judgment.
“Get in.” he said over the click of the doors unlocking. Adam walked around to the other side of the car and got in the passenger seat. Before his door was even all the way closed the car started to pull away, fast and purposeful now that it had what it wanted.
There was nothing but the quick beat of the music and the dull sound of the driver’s hand tapping the steering wheel nervously. As Adam’s eyes got accustomed to the dark he got his first look at the guy. He was probably mid-twenties and broad, hair cut brutally short. He looked like he had all the power in the world and it was eating him up, frantic energy pulsing under his skin.
They pulled into a hotel parking lot and got out. Adam followed a half step behind as he walked into the lobby.
He got a room quickly, probably more quickly than your average person because the concierge was trying to get rid of him. It was on the ground floor and the guy walked purposefully to the door and pushed the keycard in roughly. But once they got into the room his didn’t seem to know what to do. He dropped his keys and his wallet on the bedside table and stalked around the room, into the bathroom, over to the tv, back to the bed. Adam watched him for a moment, trying to work out the safest way to get his money.
“You have a name?” Adam asked, trying to put the guy at ease.
“Ronan.” he said. He didn’t ask Adam his name and continued to pace.
“You still want to do this?” he said carefully to Ronan’s back.
Ronan snarled. “Yes.” And then pulled his shirt off by the back of the neck and dropped it on the floor. Adam had just enough time to notice the black lines of a tattoo covering his back before he turned around. He opened his pants with a challenge in his eyes. As he pushed his pants and underwear down Adam crossed the room and kneeled before him gracefully. This seemed to surprise Ronan because he faltered slightly, although Adam didn’t know what about that would be surprising, it was kind of his job.
Any opinion Adam had had on dicks had long ago faded; they were all just scenery now. He carefully held Ronan’s cock and sucked the head into his mouth. Adam’s tongue flicked against the slit and Ronan groaned. His hands fisted in Adam’s hair which did not surprise Adam at all. But he didn’t move his hips, didn’t start fucking his mouth as Adam had half expected. so in reward Adam let more of Ronan’s dick slide into his mouth.
Adam still wasn’t very good at deepthroating. After a few blowjobs, by the end of the night, he’d usually gotten the hang of it. But at the beginning it took a lot of concentration. He let Ronan and his hands and his choked sounds fade into the background until he could just think about the cock down his throat, focus on relaxing his gag reflex. It worked for a while, Adam bobbing steadily as his mind wandered to school and work and a resigned hope that his hand wouldn’t leave grease marks on Ronan’s dick. Then a strained noise interrupted his thoughts along with a sudden re-grasping of the hands in his hair. Adam pulled back to suck on the head and looked up at Ronan through his eyelashes. Adam expected his eyes to be tight shut but instead their gazes met for a second and something about it made Adam’s cheeks redden although he didn’t know why. He had his mouth on this guy’s dick but somehow eye contact was too intimate? Ronan bit his lip savagely and his expression was twisted into a grimace, but somehow, when Adam looked him in the eye, he didn’t look so intimidating.
That was enough of that. Adam closed his eyes and went back to work. This was his job. This was grocery money. This was making it ‘til payday. This was what he had to do.
Ronan released his grip slightly in some lackluster warning before he came. Adam had time to pull back slightly and swallow neatly. As he softened Adam eyed Ronan’s dick for any marks from his hands but thankfully saw none. He shifted back onto his heels as Ronan scrubbed one hand over his face and then over his buzzed head. Ronan was panting and sweating and Adam felt a curl of dark pride. There was nothing wrong with being good at what he did.
Ronan seemed to remember himself and pulled his pants back up before grabbing his shirt. But he appeared to think better of it because he dropped it again and lay on the bed half naked instead.
“Take your money.” he said, motioning toward his wallet on the table, eyes already closed. Because Ronan couldn’t see him, Adam sneered. How did guys always find a way to make him feel sleazy? As he expected there were lot of bills in Ronan’s wallet but he only took the fifty they’d agreed upon. By the time he left, he thought Ronan was probably already asleep.
He walked back to his corner, willing to put in a few more hours if it meant he could afford something other than beans and rice. Carefully, he let Ronan drift out of his mind.