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"So? What d'you say?"
"How old are you, exactly?" Drew asked warily.
The kid grinned and pulled his lollipop out of his mouth with a slick noise, his lips plush and shiny with pink-tinted saliva. He rested his elbow just inside Drew's open car window, twirling the lollipop between his fingers as he answered, "Nineteen." He had a sweet, bright, smooth voice that made him sound like a late-night talk show host.
"Eighteen?" the kid tried, raising his eyebrows and putting the lollipop back in his mouth.
Drew stared at him in exasperation until the kid finally rolled his eyes. "Sixteen. I'm sixteen. But, like, whatever. Who cares. Dude, come on, it'll take you two minutes," he whined. "The place is right down the street. I'll give you the money."
"I. . . no. No. I'm not buying a high-schooler porn."
"It's not even because I want the porn, though. It's for a dare. I told you that. I don't need it to jerk off, I swear."
"Uh, yeah, convincing argument. Even so, no."
"Are you serious? Are you too busy or something? It just looked like you were busy being drunk and sad in your car instead of being asleep at home like any normal person."
"Look," Drew said, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands over his face. The headache that had been a vague pressure before was escalating to a series of pinpricks deep in his skull, piercing him from multiple angles. He did need to go home. He needed to go home so, so badly. "I don't wanna get involved with a few dumb, stupid teenagers doing dumb, stupid shit to impress each other. And what I’m doing here isn’t any of your business.”
The kid was quiet for a beat. The only thing Drew could hear were his quiet sucking sounds around the lollipop, which were a kind of obscene that Drew felt weird and scummy thinking about. "If you won't buy me porn, will you buy me a drink?"
Drew dropped his hands. "What?" he asked weakly.
The kid jerked his head towards the bar just outside Drew's car. "Buy me a drink."
"What the hell are you even talking about?"
"I'd be, like, more clear about it, but I dunno if I really can be," the kid said with a soft giggle. “I can try.”
Drew’s tongue was tied and it felt fuzzy and heavy in his mouth. “No. Where are your parents? And are your friends so shitty that they’re encouraging you to let some creepy adult possibly take advantage of you? You’re lucky that I’m not, like—“ He gestured helplessly. “—like some kind of sex freak. Or a murderer. I could be a murderer and you never would’ve been the wiser.”
”My parents are at home. And my girlfriend just broke up with me, so, uh. . .” The kid shrugged, glancing away. “If you were actually a murderer, I’d probably be down.”
Drew truly didn’t know what to say. “. . . I . . . yeah. Listen, if I drive you back to wherever you’re supposed to be spending the night, will you stop doing really dangerous and borderline illegal shit at one in the morning? I know it’s cold out there.”
The kid blinked in surprise. “Huh? Would you—for real? Are you serious?”
”Sure,” Drew said with a sigh, unlocking the passenger door. The night had already been so goddamn weird and surreal that it only felt right to end it on such a similar note. “Come on. I might as well leave anyway.”
The kid flashed him a smile before rushing around the front of the car. Drew rolled the windows up just before the kid climbed inside, his curls brushing against the hood.
“Ooh, nice,” the kid remarked, looking around the interior as he pressed his hands between his thighs, leaning forward and rocking back and forth in his seat. He seemed like he was high on sugar or caffeine—or maybe that was his natural state. “What d’you do?”
”Comedy. I do stand-up. And I work on, uh, news studio sets, but that's kind of less important to me.” Speaking of caffeine, actually. Drew drank the rest of the coffee that had been sitting stagnant in the mug in his cup holder since that morning just to sober up a little bit more. It was freezing, but it was better than nothing. (He was barely buzzed, really, but better safe than etcetera.) “What’s your name?” he asked as he started the car, because he couldn’t very well keep calling the kid ‘kid’.
“Danny. You do stand-up? I’ve always thought about being a comedian." He sounded excited and almost awed in the way no other human being could possibly be upon hearing Drew’s response to “What do you do for a living, you know, as a career that you make real American money with”. Hearing it came with feeling flattered and relieved as half a smile pulled at Drew’s mouth. Maybe he was being gifted an ego boost as a kind of apology from some kind of divine creator out there.
"Yeah, I have been for a couple of years now." Drew took another look at Danny out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to believe he was even sixteen; Drew knew it was completely hypocritical to think Well, he looks awful young with the face he owned himself, but still. Danny had dark, fluffy, curly hair that framed his round face and big, wide blue eyes with delicate lashes. He looked like an overgrown Gerber baby. Possibly an overgrown female Gerber baby.
It was very weird and a little bit fucked up to think about the objective prettiness of a teenager, so Drew chose to move on. "Where do you live?"
"Um, like, ten minutes away, but I'm staying overnight with my friends. You take the right up here and it's the third house on the left." Danny absently rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, gazing out the windshield.
"Oh, yeah, the same friends who dared you to find an adult who would buy you guys porn? They seem great."
"No, we've been going back and forth all night with this. It's not 'cause they've, like, got it out for me or anything, we've just been daring each other to do whatever dumb shit we think of first. And now I'm gonna lose and it's all your fault," Danny complained, pouting and leaning back in his seat. "You really suck, mister."
"Mister?" Drew said, snickering in disbelief. "I'm twenty-nine, not sixty, Jesus."
"Really? Huh. I thought you were twelve." Danny sat back up and pushed his hands back down between his thighs. "That's the house right there. The one with the blue door."
Drew raised his eyebrows. "Ooh, nice. What d'you do?"
"Musical theater. And I make home movies," Danny told him with a smirky smile, like he was refusing to let Drew have his callback while acknowledging it at the same time. Something about it felt mean. "Oh, hey, so, why were you just sitting in your car outside in total darkness in the middle of the night? Sorry, I've just gotta know at least that, because otherwise I'm gonna be up for weeks thinking about it. Like, just thinking about if this thirty-year-old middle-schooler actually is a sex-freak murderer or not."
Drew exhaled and pulled the car up next to the curb. He pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth, tearing at the skin as he cut the engine and dropped his head back against his seat. "It's not—it doesn't even matter. It was really stupid. Just a weird argument with my wife. I needed to get out of the house." He had no idea why he was telling Danny this, because it actually didn't matter and no one else needed to know about it and he would never, ever see this kid again in his life. But at least it felt a little freeing.
"Did she kick you out or something?"
"No, I just wanted to give her some space." It had started snowing at some point, but Drew wasn't sure when it had. The sky was that foreboding/comforting shade of soft, deep orange with its steady cloud cover. "Now I'm gonna be up for weeks thinking about how I told a total stranger I was having super mild marital problems, so, hi, I'm Drew."
"Hey, Drew." Danny gave him a sunny little wave. "Thanks for driving me home."
"Yep, no problem." Drew cleared his throat and scratched at the side of his neck. "Hey, don't talk to strangers, okay? You've got, like—you've got a really kidnappable face." His voice trailed off into something vague and pathetic, realizing that maybe he was more drunk than he thought and that driving, however short a distance, maybe wasn't a great idea in the first place.
"Really? Aw," Danny said, giggling again and placing a hand on his own pink cheek. "I mean, I guess I should feel scared, but since a stranger told me my face looked so pretty and kidnappable, I kinda just wanna go up to other strangers to see if they like my face, too."
"No, no, no, no no no, I didn't say pretty, I didn't say pretty, you can't say I said pretty. I said kidnappable."
"That means pretty. That's just the long way of saying I've got a pretty face. Whenever I think of the word 'kidnappable', I don't think of ugly. I'm gonna think of pretty. Obviously."
"Okay, yeah, you said thank you, now you can get out of my car," Drew said, feeling sort of like he was ready to kill himself as he made a shooing motion at Danny. Danny continued to giggle as he opened the passenger door.
He ducked his head back down after he stepped out, looking back at Drew, flushed and happy. "Seriously, thanks, that was the nicest thing ever. I owe you one. Like, if I ever see you again. I definitely owe you one."
Drew shook his head and waved his hand. "Don't even think about it. You gave me a reason to leave, so that's your debt paid. That's enough."
Danny kept watching him, impassive and inquisitive. Drew watched him back for a moment, ready to ask if he was okay or if he'd randomly turned off, but Drew's words never left his mouth. Before he could open it, Danny ducked back into the car, leaned across the center console, and pressed his mouth clumsily against Drew's.
Drew blinked, making a baffled little muffled noise, a strange hum against Danny's lips. He felt frozen in place, his fingers hovering in midair as heat flooded his chest and creeped up his neck. Danny pulled away again before Drew's glitched-out brain could process a single thought, quick and painless.
"I, um. . ." Danny licked his lips, looking at Drew's mouth. "You looked like. . . you. . ." He didn't finish his sentence and Drew couldn't even think of prompting him to, too dumbstruck to function like a person, like an adult. Danny kissed him again, harder and firmer, his lips parted as he reached up to splay his fingers over Drew's cheek, jaw, and neck. He was pulling himself forward. He was sliding against Drew. He was sitting in Drew's lap and Drew couldn't move or breathe or fucking think because there was a sixteen-year-old in his lap licking the inside of his mouth while he needed to be going home to his wife.
Drew broke the kiss, his breath shuddering, only to have Danny drag a hand down his side and press damp, open kisses against his neck. Each nip of Danny's teeth and brush of his tongue and lips felt like it was sapping more and more from his bones, making them hotter and less solid. His cock twitched in his jeans. "Jesus fuck—no." Blindly, Drew grabbed a fistful of Danny's hair and yanked him away. The needy little moan from Danny that came with it wasn't making anything any easier.
Drew tried to catch his breath as he tugged at his jeans, making things less tight and restrictive. He backed up against the driver's door, pulling himself out from underneath Danny. His wedding ring felt like it was burning around his finger. "What the fuck? What was that? You can't just—you can't kiss—I told you I was married!"
"You looked like you needed it," Danny said in a rush. He had that deer-in-headlights look, tipped backwards into the passenger seat. Snow drifted in from the open door, glittery as it fell in his curls.
“And? Who cares?” Drew didn’t know if he was angrier at Danny or himself. (And how was he even supposed to be angry at Danny? He couldn’t be. That’d be irresponsible and gross.) “That’s not—you can’t do that. I don’t know you, and, oh, hey, not to mention, you’re sixteen—“
“I’ll literally do anything you want,” Danny broke in, shutting the passenger door. The sound was too jarring. “And then you never have to think about me again! Just like nothing happened. Let me try something.” He licked his lips and slid back between Drew’s legs. “I kind of need this.”
“I don’t. This is the last thing I need,” Drew said, weak and half-hearted, a shiver snapping up his spine when he felt the pressure of Danny’s thigh against him. “Fuck, Danny, just go hang out with your friends and jerk them off or something.”
“Can’t. Not yet, anyway.” Danny reached down and palmed Drew’s clothed cock, kissing and sucking on Drew’s neck. It was amateurish, juvenile to try to give hickies, and that was hot in a way Drew desperately didn’t want to think about. He was giving in to this. He was a sickening piece of shit for giving into this.
“You feel so big.” Danny’s voice was breathless, hidden in the column of Drew’s throat. “I think you’d feel big inside me. I wonder if I could take all of you. I’m real tight; I don’t know if I could.” He flicked open the button and zipper on Drew’s jeans with a disturbing ease and grace. “I wanna see how it’ll feel.”
“God fucking damn it,” Drew managed out, his voice almost completely stripped from him. He sounded strangled. He felt strangled. “Right there? No kind of like—no preamble?”
“What’s the point in that?” Danny shuffled back just a bit and worked Drew’s cock out of the front of his boxers. Drew bit down on the loose skin around his knuckle, feeling an unidentifiable kind of hideous guilt and horny all wrapped up into one thick pile of rot in the pit of his stomach. What was happening?
Danny licked over the flat of his palm and curled his fingers around the base of Drew’s cock. He spat on the head before leaning in to clean it off with his tongue, swirling it around and dipping it into the slit. Drew covered his mouth with his hand, trying to suffocate his groan as the back of his head hit the driver’s window. His other hand wound up in Danny’s hair and his heart had wound up in his throat at some point. Danny’s kissing might’ve been amateurish, but this was unbelievable. He’d clearly had more practice with one over the other.
Danny slid his mouth down over Drew’s cock, holding the base and gripping the center console for balance with his free hand. Drew clenched his fingers tightly in Danny’s hair, not wanting to look at him, because not only was it going to make him feel worse, but he was going to come way too quickly. He kept his eyes shut, urging Danny forward while begging himself to stay completely mindless. He was getting a blowjob—a really, really good blowjob—in his car in front of a stranger’s house from a teenager he knew almost nothing about after going out to drink because he’d had an exhausting fight with Amanda about fucking renovations on the downstairs bathroom of all things. It had been weeks and weeks’ worth of minor frustrations and complaints that had crashed together and the renovation budget had just sent them both over the edge. Something so, so easy to rectify, something that needed nothing more than a calm, reasonable discussion over a nice dinner, probably, but Drew had somehow managed to fuck that up so hard that any reasonable discussion could not remain in the ballpark of reasonable. What kind of sign was this even supposed to be? A sudden, abrupt questioning of his sexuality, something that he’d never once had to question before? Was he just paying dearly for getting an ego boost because he really didn't deserve any kind of success?
Whatever it was, Drew had just ruined his own life in a matter of seconds and he couldn’t even care because he could feel his cock hit the back of Danny’s throat and Danny swallowed around him as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Drew's hips snapped up as a flurry of expletives fell from his lips, the heel of his hand grinding against Danny's head, pulling a fistful of dark hair with it. Danny choked around Drew's dick and he forced Drew's hand away so he could come up for air.
"Holy shit, there's etiquette, you know!" Danny gasped, rubbing his throat. "I can't deepthroat that good yet. That's definitely not, like, a first-date type of thing." He pushed himself up and slid his tongue in Drew's mouth instead, gripping the back of Drew's neck. Something about it should've been disgusting, despite everything, but Drew gave in to that, too. He would've taken anything now. He kissed back, his fingers digging into Danny's wrist as the boy fisted Drew's cock and stroked up, going achingly slow.
Danny broke away first so he could nuzzle Drew's cheek and pant against him, "I've got stuff on me. You can finish inside me."
Questioning anything seemed foolish, especially when he was starting to feel edged and unstable, but Drew couldn't help himself. "Why do you—"
"I'm always prepared," Danny told him simply. "I do this kinda thing a lot." He reached into his coat and dropped a smooth little bottle into Drew's hand before scrambling back into the passenger seat, unbuttoning and unzipping himself. Drew made a small, helpless sound, looking from the plastic bottle to Danny and back again.
"What about your friends. . . ?" Drew asked, trailing off and staring as Danny jerked his jeans and underwear down before straightening back up in a twisted little wreck. He slid his arms around Drew's neck without answering the question, giving him another kiss. It was slower and sweeter and hotter, his tongue brushing languidly over Drew's before he pulled away with a sigh, balanced precariously on Drew's lap.
"Get me loose and wet," Danny murmured, pressing his lips against the corner of Drew's mouth. "Pretty please? My friends can wait."
Well, he did say 'please', Drew thought absurdly. This was so fucked up. This was so fucked up, even while he was uncapping the bottle and letting lube drip down his fingers in preparation for what he was about to be do. He stuffed the bottle back in Danny's coat pocket (just to be polite) and listened to his own breath shiver as he let Danny guide his hand. He'd never done this before. Not with a guy, because, again, he'd never had to question anything. (Never.) It couldn't be that much different, but it had to he different enough.
Danny hadn’t been lying about doing this a lot, but he had been lying when he’d given that line about being tight. It pained Drew to think about what it had taken for him to be as loose as he was. Drew pushed one, two fingers inside Danny and they went easily, only reaching a point of resistance when Drew buried them almost down to the knuckle.
“Oh my God,” Drew muttered. “You’re a slut.”
“Yeah, yeah—go deeper.” Danny ground his hips down against Drew’s hand, his words a breathy plea. “Deeper than that. And, like—curl them in."
Drew's other hand clenched around Danny's hip as he shoved his fingers in further, rather mindlessly doing as Danny asked. It must have done something, because Danny moaned, grabbing without purchase at the cropped hair on the back of Drew's head. "Fuck, just like that. That's good."
Drew was at the point that he was almost kind of curious now, because he didn't have any other way to feel. Trying to compartmentalize his feelings later was going to be a major headache; he hadn't even really had any one-night stands before he was married, because he didn't want to risk getting attached to a girl who wouldn't give a shit about him later. But this was going to become unbelievably difficult to think about. Where was he supposed to start? He swallowed hard as he rested his head against the crook of Danny's neck, hiding in the plush down of his coat and dragging his own fingers over that sensitive spot. He could feel Danny's hot breath and hear his whiny little cries, something Drew listened to and took in with a hunger he definitely didn't want to compartmentalize.
Danny's hand moved between the two of them, squeezing his own cock, his knuckles brushing Drew in a way that was making Drew twitchy and slightly insane. "You can fuck me. You can, ngh, you can fill me up. Come on."
"Already?" Drew would've felt terrible about tearing something, even if Danny was, in fact, a slut. A boyslut. (Which sounded so much more fucked up, actually.)
"Yeah," Danny said impatiently, reaching into his coat pocket for a second time. He withdrew a foil packet that he clenched between his teeth and the smooth little bottle that he clenched in his hand. "You said I had to get back to my friends, right?"
Drew felt that Danny was being awfully unfair, especially given, well, everything about all of this. He pulled his fingers back out and foil hit Drew in the cheek as Danny spat it out of his mouth, torn between his teeth.
"Do your friends care if you have, uh, bloody anal fissures?" Drew asked, transfixed as Danny flung the rest of the wrapper away and got to work, swift and smooth even with their awkward angles and the near-darkness. "I don't wanna hurt you—"
"Oh my God, Dad, I'm gonna be fine." And before Drew could even start to get through the levels of a nickname like that in a situation like this and the implications thereof, Danny climbed back onto Drew's lap and sank himself down onto Drew's cock.
It was hot fucking bliss. Drew felt like he was in a haze. Danny didn't give him a break, either; he clutched at the back of Drew's jacket, pulling up the hem as the fabric bunched between his fingers, and began to grind down against Drew. Drew choked out something that could've been another variation on fuck, maybe a name, maybe something completely unintelligible. His fingers dug into Danny's ass, his other hand on Danny's back, just trying to keep himself together mentally as well as physically. It was some kind of grounding.
"Can I call you Daddy?" Danny's voice was strained and high-pitched in Drew's ear, his lips brushing the lobe. "Please? I-I like it."
"Fuck." Drew shuddered and desperately tried to find his voice. It kept coming out broken. "Yeah. Yeah, call me Daddy, fucking fine." Implications. Weird implications that still turned Drew on. He pulled Danny's hips down harder and Danny cried out, his fingernails scraping over Drew's back through his jacket.
"What'd you call me before?" Danny's lips dragged messily over Drew's neck, a finger hooked underneath his shirt collar to pull it out of the way. "You called me a slut. Treat me like one, Daddy. Fuck me."
The word that came to Drew's mind was "brat". In this position, Drew didn't really have a lot of power other than fucking up into Danny and holding him in place, so it was frustrating, agonizing, almost, that he couldn't force Danny down onto a horizontal surface. Press his cheek against something. Pin his wrists together. Wrap a hand around his throat, even. Drew curled his fingers into Danny's flesh, fingernails biting into it as Danny took him in again, again. Again and again. "You're a spoiled little motherfucker," Drew hissed out.
Danny laughed and it ended on a moan, dramatic and overindulgent, like he was trying to wake up the entire street. His hand pumped between his legs, keeping in time with his and Drew's rhythm. "Yeah, yeah, I am, I'm fucking spoiled. Spoiled 'cause of guys like you."
It didn't really seem to mean anything, or, at the very least, not anything Drew understood, but it was still just another little thing that shot down his spine and licked over his bones. Drew's nails scratched down Danny's thigh and he bit down on the collar of Danny's coat so he wouldn't be so loud when he came. His movements stuttered and the groan that left his mouth was aching and harsh and stifled. The world around him seemed to flicker in and out of place for a moment like a bad connection.
Danny wasn't much further behind. (What an infuriating amount of stamina.) He came with a sob, spilling over his hand, on his coat, on Drew's jacket, riding it out as he rolled over Drew and tipped his head back. Drew thought, in his cloudy, faded head, that Danny had a neck that was meant to be bitten.
Post-orgasmic ecstasy wasn't really appropriate right now, even if Danny tipped his head up and gave him a final kiss, sweet and gentle as if this had meant more than it did. Drew's fingers loosened from Danny, falling away as a sense of exhaustion filled him like softening honey in hot tea. It should've been good and it should've felt nice. His body wanted it to.
Drew had no idea how Danny climbed away from him without winding up in complete shambles, because the car was not big and they had been crushed together as it was and Danny hadn't really undressed, but he did, in fact, manage to climb away. To his credit, he gave Drew a quick kiss on the cheek and took care of the condom for him. Again, far too fucking practiced.
"I'm not staying with friends," Danny said, snapping the knot in the latex. "Uh, if you really wanted to know. I'm not."
Drew felt too tired to respond to any more of the weird shit Danny was saying. "Huh?"
Danny looked around for a moment, pursing his lips. He finally, carefully tucked the condom away in his coat pocket. Which was something Drew chose not to react to. He had to not react to it. "And I don't have a girlfriend. Or, I mean, I didn't not have a girlfriend. I haven't a girlfriend at all recently. There was never a girlfriend. Not since tenth grade, I wanna say? And that's my parents' house," he said, nodding his head towards the driver's window as he pulled his jeans and underwear back up.
"Wh—" Drew's head jerked to the side so he could look out the driver's window, his stomach dropping like he was expecting a Mr. or Mrs. Someone to be standing outside the house with the police on the phone. "I'm sorry, okay, what? Can you explain, like, any of this to me? I'm gonna need therapy because of this!"
Danny shrugged and dropped his eyes, fumbling with his zipper for a moment. "I like to go out on weekends and fuck around with guys. See what it'll take for them to go with it."
"That's what you do on weekends? Instead of hanging out with kids your age, going to the mall, shoplifting, skateboarding, whatever the hell it is high-schoolers do, you're a gay homewrecker?"
"I'm not always a homewrecker," Danny said with a giggle that Drew wanted to strangle out of him. "They're not always married. But there's probably a certain type of guy who likes to hang out at bars in the middle of the night. And it's not like I ever make anyone do anything, you know? That'd be really gross, annnd kinda fucked up." With that, he opened the passenger door again and stepped into the snow. "Bye, Drew!" Danny waved before shutting the door and walking around the headlights, towards the house with Mr. and Mrs. Someone, who were probably sleeping and oblivious to what their little angel did on a regular basis.
Drew twisted himself around, slumping down against his seat. He gingerly touched the front of his jacket before pulling the whole thing off, throwing it into the passenger seat.
The snow had picked up, beginning to coat the windshield. Drew flicked the wipers on as he tucked himself away.
His headache was back again and it was fucking killing him.