Warnings: This part contains underage.

Notes: The title is taken from the song by Blessid Union of Souls. Thank you to Robb for inviting me to post here, to Tim Mead for suggesting my name to him, and as always, to Gail for the beta. This is for her.

As much as the Greek girls of our community in Tarpon Springs had their lives mapped out, so had the boys.

Once I grew up, I'd become a fisherman as my father was. Eventually I'd marry a nice Greek girl, and we'd give our fathers a new grandson or granddaughter every year.

That was the way it was supposed to be, only...

When I was fifteen years old, my father threw me out for being gay.

I knew what my father thought of homosexuals, had heard him and his friends, the fishermen down at the docks, sneer and tell coarse jokes about them.

But he was my father. He was supposed to love me, just as I loved him.

Instead, and as I probably should have expected, he shouted, "Theo Bascopolis, you stop being gay right now, or else you get the fuck out of my house!"

I couldn't obey the one, so I obeyed the other.

Since that time, I'd been a rentboy.

But it didn't start out that way.

* * *

It was getting late, and it was starting to drizzle, unusual since this was the dry season in Florida.

Was this god's way of punishing me for being gay?

I sat on a park bench trying not to cry.

"Whatsa matter, kid?"

Before me stood a man. The rain didn't seem to bother him. He must have been about twice my age, but he was wearing jeans and a white tee-shirt and Reeboks. He had a tattoo of coiled barbed wire around his upper arm and numerous piercings - along the cartilage of his right ear, along his eyebrow. Through the dampness of his tee, his nipples were prominent. The one above his heart bore a ring.

He looked so sexy that in spite of my predicament, I felt my dick hardening.

I shouldn't have said anything, he was a stranger, but he also looked so sympathetic that I found myself pouring out the story of my plight.

"And... and then Poppa told me to get out." I sniffed hard.

"That's tough. You're a sweet-looking kid. What's your name?"

I glanced away, reluctant to tell him in case he was a social worker or something and was going to take me in to the cops, who'd put me into some kind of juvenile home after they called my father and found out he didn't want me any more.

He laughed softly. "Well, I'll call you Sweetcheeks. My name is Franky. How old are you?"

My birthday had been a few weeks before. "I'm fifteen." I bit my lip. I hadn't even thought of lying to him.

"Yeah?" His eyes were hot as they ran over my body. "Sweet fifteen." I blushed. "You're getting wet. Why don't you come with me, Sweetcheeks? I'm pretty sure I've got some leftovers in the fridge, and I've got a bed you can use."

"Sure." There was a tingling sensation in my groin, and my asshole clenched. I wouldn't mind sleeping with him, if that was what he wanted in exchange for a place to stay. I'd fooled around with some boys in the men's room at the multiplex, and I'd liked it, but I'd never done much beyond mutual hand jobs.

We had to walk a bit to catch the bus that would take us to where he lived. "Cabs won't go there," he said, his smile apologetic.

The bus driver gave us a bored look. Franky put some coins in the box for both of us, and we walked to the back of the bus.

I sat beside him and listened while he talked about the cities he'd lived in: New York, Las Vegas, Los Angeles - the exciting, glitzy cities that I'd read about and wanted to see myself but knew I never would. There was little chance I would ever get out of Tarpon Springs.

I hung on his every word, at first barely noticing that the bus driver was watching us through the rearview mirror.

But then I did notice, and I began to worry that maybe he would call dispatch, and dispatch would call the cops, who would call my father...

No, that was dumb. Poppa didn't care. Why would anyone else?

"Something wrong, Sweetcheeks?"

I shook my head.

"Well, as I was saying, in Vegas I had this fantastic run of luck. It would have lasted longer, but... "

The driver pulled up at a stop and opened the door. A bunch of people came on, dropping their fares in the box, and when the bus started off again, I was relieved to see the driver was no longer watching us.

After about another ten minutes, Franky pulled the cord that let the driver know a passenger wanted to get off, and reached up for the overhead strap. "This is our stop."

'Our stop.' I liked the sound of that. We got off the bus.

"We still have a bit more to walk, Sweetcheeks."

Fortunately, it had stopped raining. "I've never been in this part of town." I looked around.

"It is kind of shitty."

The neighborhood was run down, rusted trailers, houses missing roof tiles or slabs of siding. In one front yard I could see the mangled corpse of a small animal - a cat maybe, someone's pet? - and I shivered and forced myself to look away from it.

"Why do you stay here?"

"Oh, I'll be moving soon. I'm just waiting for some money to come in." He turned up a cracked and broken walk. "This is my place."

It was as shabby as its neighbors. The St. Augustine grass in the front was overgrown, and the streetlight glinted off hubcaps and abandoned bikes.

He led me into his kitchen and opened the small, dingy refrigerator. "Guess I don't have as much as I'd thought."

"That's okay. I'm... " I licked my lips, unable to take my eyes off his body, off the way it was bent, his butt stretching tight the material of his jeans. "I'm not really hungry."

"No?" He straightened and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw my eyes on him, the corner of his mouth curled into a grin. "Well, maybe I can offer you something that you will be hungry for. Come on."

He caught my wrist and pulled me along after him, leaving the fridge door hanging open.

His bedroom wasn't very tidy. Ma would have been mortified if any of the rooms in our... her house looked like that.

But then his hands were on my clothes, stripping them off me. Before I knew it I was on my hands and knees on the mattress, a pillow under my hips.

"I've... I've never done this."

"What, never?"

"Not this."

Franky's breath hitched, and his hands flexed hard on my hips. I knew in the morning there would be marks. Did the idea of taking my cherry excite him that much? My dick gave a little jerk at the thought. It excited me.

"You're gonna love it, you sweet thing." He pulled my butt cheeks apart, and his tongue licked a path to my hole, teasing it, pressing against it, and...

I came.

I was so embarrassed that I started to cry.

"It's okay, Sweetcheeks." Franky stroked my butt. "Oh, I named you well, you do have such sweet asscheeks." He ran his fingers down the crevice between my cheeks, then rolled my balls and tugged gently on the sac before moving on. His calloused palm closed around my dick, and it grew hard. "See? I told you it was okay. One of the good things about being your age is your recovery time." A slicked finger was prodding at my hole. It slipped inside me, and before I could decide whether I liked the full feeling or not, he rubbed against something, and I knew I liked it.

"What... what was that?" I asked, breathless.

"That's your hot spot, Sweetcheeks."

"Do it again!"

By the time he had three fingers in me I was whimpering and moaning and ready to come again. This time he squeezed the base of my dick.

"Not yet, Sweetcheeks. The next time you come, I'm gonna be buried inside your sweet ass." He nipped a butt cheek, and then the fingers were gone, leaving me empty and writhing and wanting - needing - more. "Okay, now here we go."

He'd loosened me enough so that there was no resistance at all. His dick slid right past my sphincter and lodged against my hot spot. He pulled almost all the way out, until just the flared head of his dick remained in me, and then shoved all the way back in. That set up a rhythm that had my balls tightening in a few strokes, had me coming in a few more, but which also had me hard again after a barrage of thrusts that nailed my hot spot and left me howling.

It was only as I felt the gush of hot liquid fill me that I realized he hadn't used protection.

"Franky? Shouldn't you have used a... a condom? Mr.... The phys ed teach talks about it all the time..."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Sweetcheeks. It's your fault, though, baby. You're just so hot, I lost my head. But it's okay. I'm clean." He petted my hip. "If it will make you feel better, next time I'll use a rubber."

"There's... there's gonna be a next time?"

"Oh, yeah. You took to this like a duck to water. There's so much more I can show you. That is... if you want me to show you?"

"Yes!"

"Good. You're my boy, from now on. Okay?"

"Okay." I loved the idea of belonging to this sexy man. And I didn't object when he took me a second time, even though he forgot about the condom again.

Over the next week or so, he taught me to deep throat him, to rim him, to do lots of other things. Some of them I didn't really like, but if I tried to tell him 'no,' he would look sad.

"Don't you want to make me happy, Sweetcheeks?"

"You know I do."

"Then do it."

And I did it, because it pleased him, and I wanted to please him.

I knew Franky cared about me. He bought me clothes that I'd wanted; Poppa had said they were too trashy, but what did Poppa know about what the guys were wearing?

Franky bought me McDonalds whenever I felt like it and didn't rag me about eating vegetables. I didn't have to go to school any more, and he didn't mind if I stayed up until 1 or 2 or 3 in the morning playing video games until he came home from his job, whatever that was. He shared his joints with me, although he'd never let me do even one line of his coke, and... and he made love to me every night.

One night he came home with a video camera. "I'm gonna film us. I want you to see how hungry your hole is for cock, the way it swallows it. Your mouth is almost as good."

And I let him film us. When I watched it afterwards, it made me so hot that I pushed him backwards on the bed, squatted over his groin, and sank down to take him inside me. My thighs and calves tensed and flexed as I bounced up and down on him.

"That's right. Fuck yourself on my cock," he ordered, his voice harsh with passion. I was barely aware that he had the camera running again. "Jerk yourself off. Use both hands."

"I'll... I'll lose my balance." My dick slapped against my belly.

"I won't let you fall." His hands came under my butt, and secure in the knowledge that he would keep me safe, I took my dick in my hands, smeared pre come over the shaft, and did as he said.

One of his fingers stroked the spot where we were joined, and suddenly it was in my hole beside his dick. Another, and then another joined it.

"Want more, Sweetcheeks?"

The pressure was becoming too much, but Franky always wanted me to say 'yes' when he asked me that, so I said, "Yes."

"Keep jerking yourself off, baby." A finger of his other hand slid into my hole beside his dick, and again another, and another. "A little more of this, and I could fist you! I bet you'll even be able to take two cocks in this sweet ass of yours."

I could see the words made him hot, and yeah, if I was watching a porn movie I would have thought it was pretty hot too. I didn't like the idea of having anyone else fuck me, but again I said, "Yes."

"I knew it! My good boy!" Franky was happy. He came deep inside me, once again having forgotten the condom.

I'd been with him for almost two months when he came home one night with another boy. The boy was shorter than I. He had dirty blond hair and light brown eyes, and the clothes he wore were ragged and dirty.

"This is Jaybird. He'll be staying with us." Before I could object, he said, "He needs a place to stay, Sweetcheeks. You remember how it was when your old man threw you out, don't you? Be nice to him."

"Okay, Franky."

"Tomorrow we'll get him some clothes." His eyes went from the boy to me, and he nodded and muttered something to himself, something about doing it in the fitting room?

No, that couldn't have been right, although he had made me go down on him once in the fitting room when we were in Kmart. I'd been a little uncomfortable, but it had been what he'd wanted. And thinking about it afterwards, it had been hot, with the possible danger of getting caught.

"Meanwhile, show him where the bathroom is. He needs a shower."

"It's this way." I walked toward the back of the house. The boy looked around but didn't say anything until we entered the small bathroom.

"You been wit' Fast Franky long?"

Fast Franky? "Uh... A while."

"How does he treat you?" He took off his shirt, and I was bothered to see track marks up his arm.

"He's good to me. He's my boyfriend."

Jaybird laughed. "Yeah? That's a good one." He pushed his pants down his legs. He wasn't wearing underwear, and I jerked my eyes away from his dick. "You can look at me. I don't mind."

He was thin, with a narrow chest, a sparse growth of pubic hair, and a small, uncut dick.

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen." He leered at me. "I been thirteen for four years now."

"Huh?"

"Men pay more if they think they're fucking a kid."

"Huh?"

"You ain't too bright, are you?" He laughed, not a nice sound, and turned on the shower.

"Uh... I'll get you a towel."

"Sure. You do that." He was in the tub when I got back. "Wanna join me?"

"I already had a shower."

He laughed again. "You really ain't bright."

I ran out of the bathroom. "Franky... " I found him in the bedroom. He was lying on the bed, naked. "He... Jaybird made a pass at me!"

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. I want you two together."

"But... "

"Take your clothes off."

Automatically I obeyed him. "Franky..."

"You want to make me happy, don't you?"

"Yeah, but... "

Jaybird walked in, drying himself off with the towel. "How do you want me?"

"We're gonna have us a sandwich. You're the filling. Sweetcheeks, you'll be on the bottom, sucking him off, and I'll be fucking him."

"But... but... Franky, you're my boyfriend. How could you want to fuck him?"

"I do what I want, and what I want right now is some change." He rose from the bed, barely giving me a glance. "Now, lay down in the middle of the bed. No, the other way."

Numbly, I changed positions so that I lay with my head toward the foot of the bed. Jaybird straddled my head, his dick nudging my lips.

I felt Jaybird's jerk and heard his grunt as Franky slammed into him.

"Open wide, Sweetcheeks."

This would make Franky happy. I squeezed my eyes shut, opened my mouth, and let Jaybird slide his dick past my lips.

For the first time in weeks, my gag reflex kicked in and I started retching.

Jaybird pulled out of my mouth. "You ain't pukin' on my dick!" His movement dislodged Franky.

"Son of a bitch!" Franky shoved Jaybird aside.

I scrambled to sit up, swallowing frantically so I wouldn't puke.

"Goddammit, I thought you were gonna be nice to him!" And Franky hit me. He'd never hit me before. Even Poppa had never hit me in the face, not even when he'd found out I was gay.

"But... but... " I held my hand to my nose. Blood dripped through my fingers onto my chest.

"Get the fuck out of here! You can sleep on the sofa!" He turned to Jaybird. "C'mere."

Jaybird sent a triumphant sneer my way and rolled onto his belly. Franky hoisted his butt in the air and shoved back into him again.

I ran from the bedroom to the bathroom. It took a while for my nose to stop bleeding. It took a longer while for me to stop crying.

* * *

I was making a pot of coffee when Franky came into the kitchen the next morning. I was naked - my clothes were in the bedroom - and his eyes grew hot, but then he saw my bruised face, and his mouth turned down.

"Ah, Sweetcheeks, I'm sorry. I never meant to... " To my horror, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll never do it again, I swear!"

I threw myself into his arms. "It's okay, it's okay. I shouldn't have gagged. I don't know why I did..."

He held me, petting my back. The strokes went lower and lower until his hand reached my butt and his fingers made their way between my butt cheeks and breached my hole.

"You like him, Sweetcheeks?" He nuzzled my ear as he finger fucked me.

It was uncomfortable - I was dry - but I spread my legs and rocked back onto his fingers. "He's okay, I guess."

"He's a tough kid for thirteen."

"He's seventeen."

"What?"

"That's what he told me."

"Motherfucking cocksucker!" He yanked his fingers out of me, causing me to yelp, and stalked out of the room.

I could hear the sound of a slap.

"Ow! Hey! What the fuck... "

"Lying little motherfucking prick!"

The front door opened, slammed closed, and Jaybird was gone. I shouldn't have, but I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, baby." He came back into the kitchen. "I thought he'd make a nice little brother for you."

"I don't need a brother, Franky. You're all I need."

"Yeah? Come in the bedroom, Sweetcheeks, and show me how much you need me."

I went with him, and even though I could still smell the other boy on him, I swallowed Franky's dick and went to work giving him a blow job he would never forget.

Franky was happy. I was happy. It was just me and him, and he was never going to hit me again.

* * *

The second time Franky hit me, he cried and begged me to forgive him. "I'm just so stressed, baby. The landlord's after me for the rent, and since you've come to stay with me, I have barely enough money for groceries. All the clothes I bought you, and there's the electric bill... You do like to play a lot of video games."

"I'm sorry, it's my fault." I cradled him in my arms and stroked his hair. "What can I do to help?"

"Ah, Sweetcheeks, you'd really help me?"

"Franky, you know I'd do anything for you. I'll stop watching TV and playing video games. I'll get a job at McDonalds. Or Arby's. Or... "

"Well... they really don't pay too much."

"I know." I sighed. "I'd need a diploma to get a better job, though. I could go back to school. Do you want me to go back to school?"

He shook his head.

"So there isn't much else... "

"There is one thing you could do. If you really want to help me, if you're serious about it. And if you do this for me, I'll never, ever... " He scattered kisses over my face. "... hit you again."

"You know I'll do anything for you, Franky."

That night I turned my first trick.

* * *

Franky lied. He did beat me again. He kept on beating me. If I didn't bring home enough money, if he found out I had my john use a condom - after the first couple of times, when he slapped me when I said 'yes,' I began to lie to him - if the newspaper predicted rain.

He cut me, drawing random patterns on my abdomen, and I was too terrified to move. The cuts weren't deep enough to leave any but the faintest scars.

Sometimes I'd think of leaving him, but then he'd spend the day making sweet love to me, telling me what a good boy I was, how much he loved and needed me, and I'd stay.

Besides, where could I go?

It had been raining all day and most johns seemed to have decided to stay at home with their families. I came home early that night to find Franky high as a kite on heroin. He smelled of sex and his lips were swollen.

"Franky? Are you okay?"

"Had a vis'tor." He peered up at me, a weird look in his eyes. "What're ya doin' home so fuckin' early? Never min', don't matter. Ya ain't gonna be my worry no more."

"What are you talking about?" I'd never heard his speech so slurred.

"I sol' you."

"You what?"

"I'm speakin' English, ain't I? I sol' ya. To Haskell."

"No!" I felt myself turn cold. I'd been on the street long enough to have met some of Haskell's boys. They were all crack-addicted. It was the only way they could deal with letting man after man after man fuck them.

"I treated ya too fuckin' good. Let ya have my weed. Not the coke though." A furrow appeared between his brows. "Cos' too mush ta share."

"Please... Please, Franky. Call Haskell. Tell him it was a mistake. I'll do whatever you want. You know I will. Please... "

"Ya will. Gonna fuck ya one las' time... " He reached for the waistband of his jeans and slid the zipper down. He took his dick out, but it was limp, and no matter what he did, he couldn't get it hard. "Suck me!"

I backed away from him.

He stumbled to the silverware drawer and pulled out a knife. "Ya gonna learn who's the boss 'round here! Gonna cut ya nose jus' like Jack Nicholson's in Chinatown! And then ya gettin' the fuck outta here!"

I didn't know how it happened. One minute he was waving the knife in front of my face, and the next he was lying on the floor, the knife sticking out of his ribs and a pool of blood spreading out under him.

I couldn't stop shaking, but I knew I couldn't stay there. Haskell would be coming for me any time now.

There was no money in Franky's pockets. He must have spent whatever Haskell had given him on the junk.

I had twenty bucks, all I'd been able to earn that night. Franky kept some cash in the bedroom - I'd seen where he hid it - and if I was lucky, it would still be there.

I stared down at the five and three singles. "Son of a bitch." I scooped up the bills, folded them, and stuffed them into my pocket.

And then I ran.