Title: Rough Trade and the Thief
Author: Scorpio (scorpiofic@aol.com)
Website: no site, but all stories are listed at a friend's: http://members.tripod.com/sentinel-cat/Scorpio/
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Rough Trade and the Thief 1
By Scorpio
- 4 years later -
Remy LeBeau parked his Harley Davidson in the dim shadows nearest the alley and made sure that his sunglasses were on tight. He ran his fingers through his wind tangled hair in an effort to tame it and then swung his right leg up and around so that he could get off of the motorcycle. Pulling his trenchcoat back into it's smooth lines and adjusting his too loose jeans over his rail thin frame, he stepped up to the front door of the dive.
The lighting was dim and the air was smokey, the sounds of muted conversation and clinking glass nearly drowned out by the harsh rock and roll pouring out of the cheap sound system. Keeping his expression blank from long practice, Remy sauntered over to the bar, careful not to touch the burn scarred and sticky surface. Sitting down on a stool and pulling a cigarette out, Remy smiled a charming smile at the bartender.
"Bourbon neat, mon ami."
The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, but if it was due to his obvious underage status or his thick Cajun accent, Remy didn't know. However, the man didn't say anything, he just poured the drink and wandered away to talk to another customer.
Turning around on his stool so that he could watch the patrons of the bar, and incidentally the front and back doors, Remy sipped at his drink. Slowly, he let his eyes roam over the room, studying, learning, observing.
There, in the back of the room by the pool tables, was a vision in tight black leather pants and an unbuttoned blue satin shirt. The boy was even younger then Remy, but his eyes held just as many shadows. His dark blonde hair was a riot of gelled spikes and silver glitter was sprinkled in it liberally. It was difficult to tell from across the room, but it appeared as if the boy's nipples were pierced. He was thin, but toned and just a little on the bruised side. Everything about him, from his well worn, yet sexy clothing to his outwardly cautious and inwardly broken eyes fairly screamed "Rough Trade" to Remy. And he had spent enough years living on the streets to recognize another gutter rat when he saw one.
The boy's head turned slightly until he was facing Remy, slowly his eyes lifted and swept over the Cajun. He could almost feel the weight of that calculating stare as a slow predators grin crept over that beautiful and painfully young face. Pushing away from the post he'd been leaning against, the boy began to walk over, his stride filled with sensual promises.
Remy smiled as the boy sidled up to him, a seductive grin on his own face.
The boy ran the fingertips of one hand down his own bare chest, and gasped in a tiny flutter of breath when he inadvertently tugged his own nipple ring.
Licking his lips, the boy peered up at Remy through thick eyelashes and he leaned in close. However, before the boy could say anything, the bartender stomped his way over and scowled at them.
"Damn it Ice! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred fucking times. No hustling in my bar. Go turn tricks on the corner if you want, but keep it out of here."
The boy, Ice, growled back at the bartender, ignoring the few laughs and chuckles from the patrons. They were obviously regulars who had heard this exchange before. Ice, however, wasn't impressed and he let it be known.
"Don't fuck with me Tank. You know damn well that you do good business selling that watered down crap to the johns that come here looking for me, so don't act like I ain't doing you a favor by hanging out in here. One of these days you're gonna piss me off and you're gonna regret it, man."
The bartender glowered right back.
"You threatening me, Ice? How about I call the cops?"
Ice snorted as if amused, but Remy detected the slight flinch at the threat.
"You go do that Tank. I won't be the only one in here that the pigs'd like to get their hands on. You included. So tell it to someone that threat will actually scare."
Tank took in a breath as if to start yelling some more, but Remy didn't want to hear it. Instead, he reached out and ran a single fingertip along the line of one of Ice's ribs. As if flicking a switch, Ice's demeanor once again became soft and fluid as he leaned into the gentle touch and a smile slid across his face. It was seductive on one level, but on another it bothered Remy. The boy was a well trained professional and it showed.
"Ice, folle. Why don' choo come wit' Gambit. He want t' go somewhere alone wit' choo fo' a while."
Ice smiled up at him and Remy couldn't help but return it.
"No problem... uh, Gambit is it?"
Remy brushed his fingertips along Ice's chest until he came to the silver nipple ring, then he tugged it gently. Ice gasped and leaned into the sensation. Remy could feel the boy's budding arousal with his empathy.
"Oui, folle. Gambit is de name."
Bobby nodded, a suddenly serious look crossing his face as his eyes narrowed.
"So... Gambit. What you want tonight, huh?"
Remy tilted his head slightly and pretended to think about it for a quick moment.
"Gambit wan' choo mout' fo' sure. Mebbe dat sweet ass as well, non?"
Ice nodded, his expression still serious, doing business.
"Fine. Twenty bucks for a blowjob. Forty for my ass. You want it rough, the price goes up to seventy-five. You want me to bleed for you, it's an even hundred. Got it?"
Remy's heart squeezed at the list of prices that the boy was willing to sell himself for and the cool nonchalant way in which he rattled them off. He had been spared this fate by Jean-Luc LeBeau taking him in and giving him a home and a way of life that didn't involve him sleeping with strangers for money, but he *had* done it. A few times... before, when he wasn't able to steal enough. And for some reason it tore him up inside to see this boy living the life he almost had.
"Oui, mon folle. Gambit un'erstands."
The bartender, however, was less than amused by this exchange.
"Out! Get out of here Ice. I warned you and now you've done it. Just take your trick and get the fuck out of my place."
Remy turned to face the bartender and reached up to slide his sunglasses down slightly on his nose. He let the man get a good look at his burning red on black eyes, smirking when he hissed and stepped back.
"Ta gueule, encule'! Que tu es emmerdant!"
Pushing his sunglasses back into place, Remy turned away from the bartender, downed the rest of his bourbon and then wrapped an arm around Ice. Smirking, he led the way out of the smokey bar and into the night.