It was a bitterly cold day, the worst kind of cold that's partnered with a wind to blow the very soul out of a person. The frost bitten air whipped through all obstacles as it blasted in sudden, gale like gusts. Clouds had been brewing overhead for days, as if the sun was mostly likely a memory setting behind its depressing gray veil. All these factors added to the undeniable fact that the sky now naturally merged together with the tall uptown buildings, creating a rather effective cage like feeling in the heart's of the city's dwellers. It did this particularly painfully in the heart of one young man who stood alone on the quickly emptying street. He too felt caged, and at the same time utterly foolish for standing where he was, the fashionable Madison Avenue.

His eyes looked emptily forward into the store display window, which he was directly in front of. He was so close in fact, that his breath steamed against it in white puffs. Because of this his view was fogged for a few seconds, but in his mind it was an eternity before he could see clearly to his goal again. Of course then he would try to hold his breath to make the image of his desire last, but soon he would have to breathe again and the whole process would begin anew. The young man went on like this for near to half an hour, but then he knew, even with the absence of any clock or watch, that his precious, stolen minutes were up and he had to leave.

He knew he did not belong, he knew there was no point to any of it, and that people looked at him like a dirty rag that had blown the wrong way up from the dump. Looking down at himself for a second to verify the fact that he had not magically changed into a prince in the past few moments, he knew what he truly was- a pauper. He had a rough brown cap on his head, fraying in multiple places and dingy in spots. It hardly kept the heat on his head as his dark red scarf hardly kept his poor neck from the cold it was so full of holes. His jacket was scruffy, his gray pants no better, and the only gloves he had were missing the fingers and lacking even more important pieces from the center. His hair was a pleasingly vibrant light brown, but shaggy and uncombed. The cold turned his cheeks a rosy shade of pink to match his lips, which were chapped and stiff from the cold and lack of smiles his life produced. He might have been beautiful or handsome to those who saw him, but the class difference made all blind to his precious, doe-eyed face. Even he saw nothing but a plain, unwanted street urchin in the glass reflection before him.

But his real, true shame above all his others, was his shoes. The dark brown leather that had once been clean and unblemished, the soles that were at one point made and assembled with the best quality, now barely held together as the boy shivered silently in his place outside the window.

Oh if only he could have a new pair of boots! How his life would be significantly altered for the better if he could sum up the courage and money to walk into the store. He couldn't though. He'd come to this store many times to gaze upon the shoes that he wished of, but today was particularly hard, just like the weather. The pair he'd wanted more than anything were on sale. The pair he'd sell his soul for were half the price they'd been, but he still didn't have near the funds for them. It hurt his pride and his heart that his dream was now only half of its true worth, a bargain, but he still was denied it.

He'd overstayed his time with these bitter thoughts, and now the sky was turning blue and a soft snow began to fall. His mother would worry now because she would think he was late back from the factory. She might even worry herself into a deeper sickness, which he already spent all his income to try and fight off from claiming her just a few months more. His vain thoughts of shoes were nothing when he could not be guaranteed his mother's very life. But it was true, it was like a thorn constantly digging in his side, he was greedy and he knew it, he wanted those shoes so much he could almost kill for them. It was so little to ask for wasn't it? Just one thing in his whole life to want, one simple selfish thing! It wasn't horribly wrong, was it?

As he turned to leave, anger now rumbling deep inside of him, there were two things he could not help but notice. One was that he had begun to cry, a few angry tears becoming cold on his cheek proved that. The other was that a tall stranger was staring straight at him from down the street. He'd never noticed this man before, but he had most surly fixed his eyes on him from the corner of the street for some time now. Embarrassed that his weakness of emotion had been seen, he sobered himself up and began to walk strongly towards the train, which meant he had to stride right past the man. He meant to walk by swiftly and not look up at all, but his pride mixed with intense curiosity became too great to resist and he shifted his eyes upward where he was then frozen in his tracks. He'd meant to glare at the man, to cast him a fleeting 'go to hell' look, but it had just turned into a look of confusion and astonishment. The tall man was dressed in the most fine clothes imaginable, wool coat, pressed trousers, silk top hat and a smooth black cane with an ivory handle. All these things impressed the young man, but it was the man's face that compelled him to stop. He was still young, not yet thirty, and admittedly handsome with a pencil moustache. His features were refined, his cheekbones well carved and a slight, kind smile was on his beautiful lips, but his eyes were sad, so very sad and glistening with tears. The sadness he saw was so great that his own longing died away to be replaced by confusion in his heart.

The pair stood in the cold for a few moments, staring back at one another with tension hanging in the air.

"Why were you standing there so sadly?" the tall man asked ever so lightly.

"I was fine sir," the boy lied, intimidated and infuriated by the man's evident witnessing of the crack in his emotional façade.

"No, you were crying. Are you lonely?" The man's sadness increased with this query.

"You were crying as well, but I can see plainly by your attire that our reasons for tears are very different," the younger snapped only to regret it when he saw the man's response.

"Please do not hate me because of these," he gestured to his leather gloved hands, fine coat and cane, "they do not bring me the slightest happiness. They even make me more unhappy when I see them offend a fine young man like you, who I only wish to help-"

"You insult me with your pity," he insisted, looking away sharply.

"No!" the man cried, now putting up his hands to prevent the boy from leaving, "I don't pity you in the least! I want to help you because," he faltered. "I wish to do something for you, because I am lonely."

The boy looked up in shock at these odd words. The man struggled through his strange tears, which had begun again, to continue.

"I've seen you in front of that shoe store before, and I could not forget your face. You are so beautiful," he stepped forward a little so he didn't have to speak far above a whisper as the young man's blush was hidden by the cold. "I will do anything for you, if you will only come with me for the evening."

The young man was aghast. This man had made such an indecent proposal to him! Flirting with him on the street, he'd heard of such things but never thought they really happened. These initial thoughts of pure disgust faded away sooner than he would have liked however as his mind began to pick up on what had really just happened.

"Anything," he echoed, dumbstruck.

"Yes, anything your heart desires," the man finally smiled openly, "just spend the night with me." With these words however, the boy's mind clicked into place. Spend the night? He imagined the stranger's hands undressing him, his lips on his neck and other, worse things, but yet his disgust did not return. He furrowed his brows and looked down to hide his embarrassment as he replied.

"Spend the night, in your bed?"

"You see right through me," his smile faded, "I meant dinner and some conversation truly, but yes, I might ask that of you."

He was still for some time, the cold was coming back to him and he was so unsure, but now was the time to decide. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, his mother's medications could be paid for, and maybe there would even be enough after for his boots. It was too much to be passed up out of fear, even if it meant trading his body for these things. Then he thought to himself- was his body so precious? The answer came up quickly, no- he was a poor man who worked his body to the brink everyday in a factory and received so little for it in return. Now he could finally make good use of it, but shame began to stir in him. His hands were callused, and his throat dusty, but his soul yearned for so much more. For things that this man could give, but to go to the point of whoring himself for it? What on earth would his mother say if she ever knew? The stranger was handsome, truly, and his sadness made him wish to know more about him, everything about him. He was not repulsed, which he was utterly baffled by. Men should not, and did not sleep together, it was wrong and dirty, but then he thought about how he had thought of himself as just that- poor, greedy and dirty. It was such an odd feeling, shame and uncertainty washing together with curiosity and a slight bit of excitement. Decision made- this man had bought him utterly and shamefully with so little effort.

"Alright," he said after his long deliberation, " I'll come with you."

"My charming young man, thank you," the man sighed with happiness. "I will get the car."

"Wait," he cut the man off, "I have to go home first, my mother'll worry, otherwise."

"Of course, I will send my car to your address in two hours, and just so you and your mother know I mean you no harm, here," and he handed him a twenty dollar bill. The young man's eyes bulged as he stuffed it into his pocket, the older man smiling at his shock. He then gave the stranger his address and went to bid him a short farewell when the man silenced him.

"Just please be there," he said knowing the danger of giving the boy money up front. It was quite dark at that point and with the streets almost fully empty, the man bent and placed a soft kiss on the boy's smooth, cold cheek.

"So cold, like porcelain," he whispered, "I'll be counting the seconds, till I can warm you up." Then he went on his way.

*

What had he done?

The thought ran through his whole body and made his stomach twist the entire train ride home. The journey felt longer than ever, and with the pain wrenching his gut he was desperate to get home. The train clacked and banged furiously at every turn, the boy's eyes flickering around with every movement he saw to try and keep his mind off the truth of what he'd done. He was going to be a whore- him! A dingy factory worker with a sick mother was in a few hours time going to be a male prostitute. He knew he had to get his mind off it, but it continued to reel as the train moved through the dark.

By the time he got home he was almost and hour late back from work, and he was sure his mother would be worried into a fit by now. Then again, he'd soon fix that with the twenty dollars he'd been given. No! Why had he agreed? Why had he taken it? And what on earth was he going to use as an excuse?!

"You're home!" his mother stood from her chair to greet him as he walked into their one room apartment. There was only a little fire, over by his mother's chair, but after coming in from being in the cold so long, it was a godsend. "Oh honey I was starting to get worried, did something happen at work?" He was about to tell her no, but then he stopped. Sure, it was for work, he'd been given a chance to work extra, perfect. Damn- what about the car the stranger was going to send?

"I had to stay after, but look," he forced a smile for her as he pulled the twenty from his pocket. Her eyes grew large as he handed it to her, "and I can make more, tonight, if I go help," he thought frantically, "if I go help serve and waiter at a party one of the owners is throwing tonight. They'll um," he hated to lie but it had to sound good, he had to sound excited, "send a fancy car for me and everything, in an hour. Isn't it great?"

"Oh sweetie, I'm so glad. It must have been a great honor to be chosen from so many workers at the factory. I knew you were making a good impression, you're so smart." the older woman gushed as her son just looked down, feigning modesty. "Such good luck for you," she continued as she walked over to the stove, "well you'll have to eat fast so you can get cleaned up."

Cleaned up? He chuckled sourly in his mind about how he should make sure to scrub behind his ears before he let some grown man paw at him.

Dinner was indeed brief as his mother had said, and after their stew was devoured his mother practically forced him into the shower. As soon as the hot water hit his body he began to relax, but only to tense up again a second later as he thought of that stranger again. No matter what money or what about it interested him, he should have just walked away. Why couldn't he have just walked away? His ears picked up the faint sound of his mother coughing. They picked up even the subtle tone of it when she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth to try and suppress the sound so he wouldn't hear it. So he wouldn't worry. But he did worry, and that's why he would go. He was also selfishly and shamefully curious, and that's why he would stay. He was no saint after all.

"Honey, look what I've found for you," his mother bombarded him as soon as he'd stepped out of the bathroom.

"Dad's old suit?" he croaked, seeing the relic that'd never seen the light of day since his father had passed away.

"It shouldn't be too big, now that you've grown some more," the woman beamed, holding up the brown fabric.

"No," he said sharply, "no, I can't wear dad's suit, it's too special." How could he wear that horrid thing for this? He could just imagine his father's spirit looking down on him, wearing his only good suit just to remove it for pay later. No, he couldn't wear it. He'd never be able to live with the guilt he already wasn't handling very well.

"But you have to make a good impression-"

"They're just going to give us uniforms when we get there," he lied quickly.

"Yes, but this is important," he could see the desperation in his mother's eyes and he had to look away. "Just think, if you look well and do well, this could mean a whole new career for you. A chance to get out of the factory." Her expression grew softer, "Wouldn't that be nice, not having to worry about getting hurt with all the machinery, maybe even get shorter hours so you could be home more." He knew there was no moving her on this. She was only doing what was right for him- well, what would have been right if he hadn't lied to her. Hadn't gotten her all worked up about this 'great new chapter of his life' for nothing.

"Alright ma," he said taking the suit hanger from her, "I'll put it on."

"Thanks sweetie," she smiled at him as he trudged off.

*

He'd put on the foul suit, he'd combed his hair even though he knew it would just get messy again once he put his hat on, and he'd even smiled to his mother when the car came to get him. She looked so happy when the chauffeur silently opened the door to the shiny black limo for him. He waved back at her, only to hunch over, almost in tears once the door was shut behind him and he was alone on the spacious leather seats in the back.

The ride uptown was long. It would have been silent too if he could have suppressed his weeping which came in burst as he thought of his mother, how she'd said she was proud of him, and how she'd said she was sure his father would have been even prouder.

It seemed like the drive had given him forever to think, when finally the car pulled into a garage on some street he knew he'd never been on before. Soon after, the car slowed and pulled to a halt. Then the sullen face of the chauffeur opened the door for him again and beckoned him without speaking to follow. He followed the chauffeur into the back elevator that was in the parking garage and they began their ride up 21 floors in silence. Once the elevator was on its way, his eyes began too shoot around, a tiny thrill coming alive in him after the deep depression he'd fallen into after leaving his home. It was a magnificent elevator, just like the car had been the finest car he thought existed. The elevator was even a bit gaudy however, with red velvet, sparkling crystal and polished mahogany covering all of the walls. The bell chimed, the doors opened and the pair walked out just as they had entered, in silence. The floor they had now been transported to consisted of one short hallway that had a large pair of carved doors on either side.

"It's the door on the right, young sir" the old driver said, then promptly went back into the elevator just before the doors slid shut.

Now alone, the boy turned to face the doors on the right, but they opened before he had even knocked. Much to his dismay, there was now another silent and elderly man before him as he timidly walked in to a large entrance hall. The second old man closed the doors once he was inside, and gestured for him to enter the room to his left. The entrance hall was very high, and led straight through what must have been the largest apartment he'd ever seen. The entrance hall was also the main hall, which split the flat into two halves, doorways leading to different rooms on either side. There was also a large, tinted glass window at the back. So this was where the mysterious man lived, it fit perfectly with the picture in his mind, but that didn't make the fact he was actually standing in it any less overwhelming.

Alone again, he walked to the room he had been motioned to and was once again in awe of where he was. The hallway had been grand, but this room was out of a palace. It had the highest ceiling possible, with gold inlay molding of vines and leaves on the white walls. It must have been a type of drawing room, with plush red satin and crushed velvet chairs and sofas. These were all situated around a glass coffee table, which was in front of a large fireplace that had a nice little fire glowing in it. His mind went back to his own tiny apartment's fire, which was nothing compared to this. The chill had still yet to completely leave the young man's bones from earlier that day, so he gravitated towards the small fire's warmth, hands outstretched.

"Do you like it?" a low voice queried. The boy spun away from the hearth quickly, embarrassed that he had been caught huddling by it like some neglected orphan. He now faced the tall stranger, who stood in the far doorway of the room. The same gentle look was on his face, but now he was dressed in a maroon dinner jacket and fine black slacks.

"I'm sorry to have startled you," he began as he stepped forward, "are you still cold from the journey?"

"A little," the boy replied looking down.

"Yes, it is very cold this evening," he then paused as if he was not sure he would say anything more, then took another step towards his guest. "Let me take your jacket so you can get closer to the fire."

"I'm fine, really sir," he said, keeping back from the fire and leaving on his father's coat to prove the fact. He then regretted it as his arms made an obvious shiver from under his coat and thin white dress shirt.

The man looked a little sadder after the young man's two very terse replies. It made his stomach twist a little too see the man's pain, but he still was so unsure about whether he should have come in the first place. The man just wanted his body- why would he bother with conversation?

"Would you like something to eat? I know it's a little late for dinner but-"

"I already ate," he looked down to avoid seeing the man's eyebrows turn in sorrow once more.

"I see you truly do not wish to be here with me. I fully understand," he said softly as he turned away. "I don't want to force you to stay, but," the boy looked up from to floor to see the man's shoulders shake ever so slightly, "I wish so much that you would stay. I just wanted to not feel so," he paused, "so empty. I only wanted, to" a sob broke his voice that was before so smooth, "to be close to someone."

The boy simply stood and watched the man's back heave up and down, torn between his interest and compassion for the stranger and his shame at what he had agreed to do. He wanted to know the root of this rich man's suffering so badly.

"I'm sorry," the boy began firmly and the man turned to face him in surprise. "I agreed to come here, but I only made things more difficult for both of us with my lack of cooperation. You only wanted conversation when my mind was fixed on what else I had said I would do." He was surprised at himself for how clear his words came out when his heart was beating a mile a second. The man was now closer to him and his crying had ceased.

"I will hold to my promise," he now looked down again, "my word is all I have that is worth anything." It was true, he meant what he had said from the bottom of his heart, and he trusted the man to hold his end of the deal as well. He did not remind the man that he had promised him anything, for he felt it would only renew his pain, which seemed to spring forth from his wealth like a disease.

"You are so kind and trustworthy," the man began, wiping away his tears, "just as I knew you were the moment I first saw you. I will keep my word as well," he then smiled the same smile which he had worn when he'd first entered the room. A gentle smile that sent the boy's mind and already mixed emotions into a flutter. The man was so handsome, even more so than before now that he was in the warm light. When he smiled too, it was so endearing that he almost wanted to be touched by the man, to do the act he said he would with him. His feelings scared him though, he knew it was wrong, yet here he was, undeniably attracted to a grown man he'd just met.

A strange thought crossed his mind as he realized the stark difference in their attire. His host was dressed leisurely, seductively even, in his fine jacket which exposed the top if his chest. He, however, was as formal and covered as he could get with his coat, dress shirt and tie. Since he had agreed to spend the night with him, his insatiable curiosity wondered if the man had chosen something for him to wear. Perhaps something revealing, but something a little more comfortable at least.

"Did you want me to wear something specific for you?" He asked meekly, afraid of what might be offered to him, but he had promised.

"Well," it was now the man's turn to seem awkward. "I did choose some night garments for you to wear. They are laid out on my bed," he pointed to a set of doors at the far end of the room.

"Alright then," the boy swallowed hard as he walked over to the bedroom. Like everything else in the apartment, it was beautiful. The far walls were covered in windows that over looked the city, making a spectacular view out of the cold and cloudy night. Looking down, he saw the clothing he was to wear laid out for him on the large bed. The whole outfit was made entirely out of cerulean blue silk, and his fingers sang as they touched its heavenly smoothness. There was a pair of silk boxer shorts that he assumed were supposed to be worn under the long silk pajama bottom's that sat next to a matching long sleeved button down pajama top. After he'd run his hands over the material for a few moments more, he began to undo his tie and shirt. Before he removed them however, he remembered himself and spun his head around to see to where the man was standing. His host truly was a gentleman, for he had not turned to watch him undress, but respected his privacy to change in peace. This pleased the boy but in the back of his mind he wondered- what kind of man wanted sex from a stranger, but respected him enough to not ogle him as he removed his clothes?

Once his shoes were off, he undid his trousers and slid his underwear down with them quickly, as to be naked as little as possible as he snatched the boxers off the bed and pulled them on. Then he swiftly put on the pants, then the shirt. Buttoning it slowly because his fingers were having trouble being still enough to work them, due to a combination of the cold and his nerves. The outfit was really quite modest and expensive to be sure, and it made him secretly happy to be dressed so fine. It also made him feel more comfortable and open to be out of his dead father's best suit while he was with this man. The aura of that garment had almost choked him.

He ran his fingers through his hair in a desperate attempt to tame it, then tried to make himself as bold as possible as he walked back into the drawing room, closing the bedroom doors behind him.

"Is this right sir?" The man's eyes lit up as he turned to see the boy.

"Beautiful," he sighed, "yes that's very right, perfect even." The boy cracked a smile against his will from the compliment the man had given about his appearance as he walked back over to the fireplace.

"Let's sit here, by the fire and talk for awhile," the man said as they both sat in front of the dull glow of heat. Seeing his guest more calm, the man smiled broader as his companion blinked and shook his head a little, his young mind running with more questions. Why was this man so kind? He was soft and fragile, his dark hair neatly combed and his features not too pointed or harsh. But his eyes locked him in place, made his lips quiver, and that smile made it so he could not tare his gaze away from him as he sat.

"I'm so glad you came. Was Günter nice to you?" the man asked as he continued to smile warmly.

"The driver? We barely spoke I'm afraid," the boy tentatively smiled back.

"If he spoke at all, it means he likes you," the man joked and the pair laughed lightly, but soon it was silent again.

"Your apartment is beautiful," the boy said, hoping not to upset his host.

"Yes, it is. I-I," he stuttered, "I like it very much." The boy was now bold and asked his one burning question.

"You have so much, why are you so sad?" He blurted as the man looked down.

"I may have things," he began, "but that is all they are, things. They do not move, they do not talk, they do not love," he stopped and blushed slightly as he looked at his young guest for a second before he continued. "My parents are both dead, and all they left me was their money. I have not a single memory of them that is warm or tender, just- blank, not even cold or harsh."

"You must have friends?" The boy hated to press the matter, but he had to know.

"No, I fear I don't know how to make them. And the society party's where acquaintances are often made are full of people who have oddly fallen in love with their respective bank accounts." This attempt at a joke was met with a small chuckle from the young man.

"It is so good to see you smile and laugh," the man beamed while changing the subject, "but now it is my turn to ask a question of you. What is your name?"

"Donovan," the boy replied.

"A proud sounding name, but still with a sense of grace. I think it suites you well."

"Thank you sir. If I may ask, what do you wish me to call you?"

"Are you asking me my name?" he grinned.

"If I may be so bold as to call you by it," the man's sadness was now completely gone, replaced now with smooth charm and confidence.

"My name is Brenton, but please call me Brent."

"That's a kind name, I'd say," the boy smiled truly, "Brent."

"Let's play a game," Brent said abruptly, making his guest's heart speed again with fear of what a 'game' might consist of. "We'll take turns asking each other questions, and when one asks the other a question that they feel is too personal to answer, they have to undo a button or remove a piece of clothing."

"That doesn't seem too vulgar," Donovan said with a bit of relief that the game was not something more like 'Let's see how long we can have sex before either of us passes out, the winner gets a cookie'.

"Well I must admit, I am a bit vulgar in reality," Brent stated proudly.

"Now that's one thing I've never heard a gentleman admit too," the boy scoffed.

"I'll let you in on a secret of us gentlemen," Brent began, leaning his face in close to Donovan's, "we all are terribly vulgar, most are just to uptight to admit it," they both laughed as Brent pulled back, but still sat close to his guest. "I'll let you start, but I must warn you that I can't think of anything too personal for me to tell you."

"Ok," Donovan began, but he had so many questions, it was hard to narrow it down to just one. He decided to start with an easy one. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven, and you?

"Nineteen." He now asked a much more personal question, surprising Brent happily. "Do you like to have," he worked hard to make himself clear without being brash," relations only with boys?"

He smirked, "Yes, I only like boys, especially pretty boys like yourself." Donovan blushed. "Since you blush every time sex is mentioned," he blushed redder hearing the word spoken out loud, "I assume you're a virgin but I suppose it would be unfair not to make sure."

"Yes I'm a v-virgin," Donovan muttered meekly, having trouble getting his mouth around the word. He then calmed himself and became more serious, "why were you starting at me on the street? Had you really seen me before?"

"That's two questions," Brent mock scolded him lightly. "Yes, that was the fifth time I'd seen you. The first was an accident, I happened to walk by the shop when you were there. I was so taken by you that I checked everyday to see if you would comeback. You were right on schedule every Friday right up until today." He looked right at Donovan as the boy fiddled with his hands absently, showing his embarrassment at being so regular with his longing for shoes. "As for why you, well that's obvious, you're beautiful. My question now- can I call you Donnie?"

"Alright," he shrugged light heartily, then snapped right back into business mode. He was now openly enjoying himself. "Have you ever tried to get a professional, um, call boy?"

"That's a nice way of saying it, and you almost got me to surrender a button, but yes. Yes I have, just once before but that is all I shall say on the matter," he huffed lightheartedly. "Now, let's get serious. Are you attracted to me? And you know what I mean, not just if you are interested by me, but if the thought of my kiss entices you." He stared right into his pretty guest's eyes then. "I dare think you might be but-" he stopped when he saw the boy quickly unbutton his top button, "alright then."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Donovan asked, keeping the momentum going. "No one else seems to think I am, why-"

"If they don't they're fools," Brent cut him off, suddenly more intense than he'd been all night. "That cute floppy brown hair, your rosy cheeks and," he took a breath as he leaned in closer, "those lips of yours are a perfect bow shape. They have a sultry pout, but are not too full at the same time, like cupid's bow that ensnares the hearts of men on a whim." He was now close to the boy, and the boy was not moving away from him as he had feared he might. "So red from the cold," he sighed, eyelids lowering slowly. He knew it was the prefect time, but he was still afraid to ask, "May I kiss you?"

Donovan was torn and speechless. His mind told him no, but of course his heart said he should try it. Try to enjoy himself instead of fighting his urges because of some lose moral code society followed, or even his pride. His fingers began to move as if his choice was to undo a button and be done with it, but his fingers stopped halfway.

"Yes," he answered softly, leaning in a tad himself now. "Yes, you may kiss me." And so the man did, closing the final distance in a heartbeat. Their lips met and pressed together, holding like that for a few seconds. Closing his eyes, Donovan realized that he liked being kissed by Brent. It was an epiphany in his mind, like a wall coming down- he liked it, he liked the soft kiss of this man. It didn't matter what the circumstances were now, he liked it and he wanted to try more. He'd been a good boy his whole life, barely touched another person in even a remotely sexual manner. He was nineteen and by heaven, it was time for him to see what it was he wanted by trying. Brent pulled away with a look of pure elation on his face.

"I know it's not my turn, but did you like that just now?" He sighed.

Donovan looked Brent in the eye and bit his lip as he undid a button of his shirt. The other man was flabbergasted to say the least.

"Are you refusing to tell me?" the boy undid another button and still said nothing.

"Donnie!" He exclaimed, enthralled by his formerly reluctant guest's behavior. "What has caused this sudden change of heart?"

"Your kiss," he said firmly. "Now, you owe me two questions- what is the difference between making love and having sex?" He asked bluntly, the word finally passing his own lips.

"The difference?" Brent wondered out loud as he searched for the answer. "Love, it's love which makes the difference." Donovan's new found confidence began to slip when he thought about the repercussions of his question. He held his breath as he made his last query.

"Which shall we do?"

A pause, Brent was speechless, and his sadness began to creep back in, like he was remembering something painful as he thought.

"I have been told I love too easily, and that is why I've been hurt before. But I will tell you plainly," a tear slipped from his right eye, "Though I have not known you long, since you first noticed and stopped to talk to me today, I knew-" but then he stopped and the boy's heart skipped a beat in the silence. Brent just smiled and blinked his tears back. Then, he slowly reached down, and undid one of the two buttons on his jacket.

Donovan now saw that his playfulness, though he did not regret it, had gone too far, Brent, now in control of his emotions again looked up at him.

"Well, it seems as though I have ruined the good humor in the room once again," he said with a bit of a laugh to himself. "So much for my powers of seduction."

"No, it was I who was crude, I just thought it was all in good fun," Donovan replied with a touch of remorse, then added "and I think you're quite good at seducing young men, if I'm any proof of that fact."

"What?" Brent cried in dismay, "You must be kidding. I had you willingly unbuttoning your shirt for me, then utterly ruined the moment with my unfounded tears. You must admit that is a little pathetic."

"Not at all," Donovan smiled, "Your tears show your sincerity, which makes your words and compliments all the more powerful."

"Why Donnie, that's eloquent," Brent interjected softly.

"I'm the pathetic one," the boy continued. "You chose me off the street, got me to come to you with only a few words, change into an outfit of your choosing, unbutton my shirt and stirred emotions I'd never-" Donovan stopped abruptly when he realized that he almost admitted the deep feelings Brent awoke in him. But he had said too much, questions had already been stirred in the man's mind.

"Emotions?" Brent cocked his head a little and leaned in towards Donnie, whose cheeks were bright pink again. "Do you feel some attraction towards me? Is that why you wouldn't say before, because you're guilty that you do feel- something for me?" Brent asked with hope deep in his eyes that his guest would say yes.

"I," the young man began, "I know two men shouldn't be together," he stated flatly. Brent's heart began to sink, "but I've barely even kissed anyone. I've never been attracted to, or at least wanted to want to know someone." Donovan then looked up, "but I want to know you better, even when I know I shouldn't want to know you in," he swallowed, "that way."

"Donnie," Brent smiled, "that's the kindest thing you could have said to me. Donnie," he reached up and touched the young man's face, "it's alright. It doesn't matter what other people think you should want, you can get to know me all you wish while we're here alone together." He leaned in close as if he was going to try to kiss the boy again, "I want to know you so much as well."

"That isn't very long to know me or you, just tonight."

"Oh no Donnie, it's as long as you want," Brent sighed.

Donnie closed his eyes, mouth open slightly and waiting to be kissed again, but Brent stopped an inch before they were to meet. He quickly glanced up -

"Will you let me give you a real kiss now?"

"A real kiss?" Donnie cracked his eyes open for a moment.

"I think you know what I mean," Brent said. Donnie indeed knew what Brent meant by that, he meant the type of kiss only lovers gave each other. He'd seen people do it before, but he'd never actually tried it, and thinking back to the couples he'd seen, he wanted to see what it was like.

"Yes," he sighed, closing his eyes again, "yes, alright."

And so they did.

Brent closed the gap, letting the kiss be just as the first one was for a few moments. Then, he moved his lower lip ever so slightly, so that it slipped just under Donnie's, catching the chapped but tender flesh of the lip and sucking on it lightly. He liked that feeling considerably and it seemed as if his whole body heated up as Brent continued by tilting his mouth to the side. Now the man was able to slip his tongue past his own lips and slide it along his companions quivering ones. Donnie became frantic as he could feel his body acting strangely, almost as if the silk pajamas he wore were caressing him without moving. It was scary, how much he was enjoying the kiss, his mind was very unpleased but that fact was fading rapidly as Brent entered his mouth. His hand made the logical move to rest on the side of the boy's reddening face, gently touching it. Donnie was now truly able to participate in the kiss and he did so with pleasure. He leaned forward, leaning on his hands more so that he could press back against Brent more firmly. As their tongues met, Donnie's skin suddenly became so sensitive to the silk surrounding him that it felt like it was tightening around him. He couldn't get away from the sensation that was undeniably arousing him. It was almost as if the man knew this as he then reached between their bodies and undid the final button on the young man's shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders so it fell in a pool behind him. The conflicted young man, now more exposed than ever, didn't want Brent to stop, but the man slowly pulled back when he'd finished his tentative exploration of the boy's mouth. This left Donnie's cheeks red, lips parted, in a position that was close to being on his hands and knees, and his breathing labored.

"Oh Donnie," Brent responded ever so softly as he opened his eyes to see his companion in such a state. "You seem to be glad that you came, that you want to-" Brent trailed off, but continued once again to caress the side of the boy's face with his hand. Donnie was in such a state that he didn't even open his eyes as he slowly collapsed backwards onto the floor so Brent had to move to look down over him. He had no idea what had come over him as he lay on the floor, arms stretched above his head. It was just a kiss. Had it been the thought of Brent's tongue in his mouth? That thick, wet muscle touching him like nothing ever had before. Or was it the fact that his body had willingly submitted to it?

Either way, he knew that the only kiss he ever wanted from now on was Brent's. He also knew that now was the time, when his brain felt almost inexplicably drunk on the fire lit all over his skin.

"Now," he began as Brent bent down over him to hear, "it has to be now, before I lose my nerve."

"Donnie, don't decide in a rush," Brent whispered harshly. "I want you to be sure you don't want to change your mind. To take it back later," but as Brent said this, he bent lower over Donnie so that he was face to face with him, his stomach brushing up just a tad over where Donnie's body had betrayed him.

"It's much too late for me to change my mind, you know that," Donnie snapped as he opened his eyes. "I've never done anything like this before, so when I say now, you need to start before I freeze up again."

Brent chuckled a little, amused at the confidence he now had due to his guests aroused state.

"Alright, you win," he said softly, as if to a child, "but let's not stay here." And with that, he lifted Donnie up easily in his arms and carried him into the bedroom. He stepped skillfully over Donnie's discarded clothes as the boy rode silently in his arms. Once at the bed, Brent laid him down onto the covers gently. Then he walked back to the doors of his bedroom, closed them quietly, and locked them without Donnie noticing.

"We won't be disturbed," he muttered to himself, "Donnie are you sure-"

"Just get over here," his whisper more like a horse rasp as he rolled toward the windows and away from where he could see his father's discarded jacket laying on the floor. Brent nodded, then turned to walk back to the edge of the bed where he could look down over the boy who was lying on his side, blushing and sighing in his silk pajamas. It was a dream come true. It was what he'd wanted. Desire, desire and longing for him without it being an act. True there was still money involved, but it was to help Donnie and not directly a payment for 'services'. Brent had imagined the boy almost exactly like this, since the first moment he'd laid eyes on him outside the store in the cold, he'd wanted to see him heated up and in his bed. He'd wanted to profess his love to him and have the boy fall into his arms, claiming to the world that he wanted to be his because he truly loved him, as a person and not a checkbook. He wanted him to whisper his name-

"Brent," Donnie sighed again, but not moving from where he lay on his side, "Brent don't just stand there looking down on me." He then looked up to capture his gaze; "you haven't changed your mind have you? I know I won't be good enough for you but-"

"I'd never look down on you," Brent said, his face becoming relaxed and calm as he undid his last buttons. As the coat came off, Brent finally kneeled on the bed so he was inches away from his boy. "Take off your slacks," he said in the same smooth tone which made Donnie blush further. He obliged and slid the silk off his legs to reveal more of his skin, but still kept on the boxer shorts. Brent rolled the boy towards him and onto his back as he admired him and the reaction he'd gotten from his kiss. Donnie lay still as Brent examined him, his skin, his chest and his legs. Brent's more serious mood was new, but made his face more attractive and serene. After a few minutes of his study, Brent gently reached for one of Donnie's hands and looked at it carefully, turning it over a few times. Donnie wanted to pull it away, frightfully embarrassed of the calluses that covered it, and the grime that never fully came out from under his fingernails. But Brent pulled the hand to his face, rubbing it against his cheek a little before kissing the tip of each finger. All Donnie could do was look up at him, speechless. There were no lights in the room. The bed, the furniture- everything was draped in black except for where a sliver of moonlight hit the side of Brent's face and shoulder.

"Hmm," Brent sighed as he held the hand close to his face again. "I can't believe I have you here," he began, running his own fingers along Donnie's. "I wanted you, but I never thought I'd be able to get you. Now look," he finished, bending down quick to lay a brief kiss on Donnie, still keeping the boy's hand captured in his.

Donnie looked up at him, still not being able to speak, but for the first time he realized that Brent had truly wanted him. Not just a boy, any boy he thought was vulnerable enough to pick up, but him.

"Donnie," Brent finished, letting the hand go finally. After a moment with neither of them moving, Donnie did something he'd never expected himself to do. He sat up so his face was just a tad below Brent's, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding the man he'd just met.

"Brent," he said as he laid his head against his chest. "Brent, I honestly don't know what I can give you, but," he closed his eyes, "I'll try." He wanted to try and make Brent happy, even though he wasn't sure if he could, but he also knew that the shame nagging at the back of his head would never be fully gone.

Brent said nothing more, satisfied with Donnie's reply. He would also try, but try to make the boy lose all control during the night- that was his goal.

Slowly he let his arms fall slack, sliding slowly back into the position he started in, back to the bed and Brent looked over him while straddling his knees.

"You could kill a man with that sort of kindness Donnie," he chuckled before his lips met the boy's again. But even as he placed the smoothest, most tender kiss he could on Donnie's lips, in the back of his mind, somehow he knew that the young man would break his heart one-day.

The kiss went deeper, Brent's tongue further, owning the other's mouth while his hands roamed over his chest. The feeling began to creep back into Donnie's stomach, the tingle returning to his skin as Brent's hands left a warm trail as they moved down his torso to his hips. Once he reached the boxers, he moved the silk against the boy's re-ignited flesh, caressing him with its smoothness one last time before sliding them down. It took a little maneuvering, but soon the garment was off and Donnie was finally completely naked. Brent wanted to stop and admire it, bask in the boy's beauty, but with his guest once again breathing heavy he knew he had to continue before he lost him again. New rule, no more talking or waiting, just action.

Brent pounced, lips on Donnie's nipples, the flesh called to him, called for him to suck and nibble them red. The young man gasped as he did so, arms and fists tensed around his pillow. Brent's hands ran up and down his guest's thighs, spreading them as he went. Suddenly another part of Donnie's anatomy was calling to him, and its call was much stronger than the other's had been, so he quickly worked down the boy's chest and attended to it. The young man let out a surprised moan, looking down to see the man's head buried between his legs sucking him madly. It felt wonderful and made his head swim to watch.

Brent continued and Donnie's back began to arch more and more, against his will until he let out his finally cry into the pillow he'd pressed up to his face. God, that had felt too good, and he knew what was coming now, the pain of having Brent in him. He didn't want to- god he didn't want to. Why couldn't it end on such a good note? Damn it! Why were his eyes tearing up?

"Donnie?" Brent began, seeing his distress. The young man blinked back his tears.

"I liked that, but," his voice hitched a little, "but now I'm scared," he turned his head away suddenly, putting his hands to his face, covering his reddening eyes.

"That it will hurt?" Donnie nodded his hand-covered face silently.

"I promise that it won't," Brent said in Donnie's ear. He removed his hands and looked at the man in disbelief. "I swear, I'll make it so you don't even notice," he finished as he let his body drop to lie completely on top of his companion's.

"Alright," Donnie agreed, a bit of fear and misery still coming through his voice, but Brent now only saw a challenge. He would need to go extra slow, but he knew he would enjoy that immensely.

"Just relax," the man breathed, the air of his breath brushing over Donnie. Brent was already lying in-between his legs, so he began to kiss and move his lips ever so gently over the side of the boy's face and ear, just as he moved his body slightly up and down over the other's. Donnie grew used to the weight, then the small penetration of Brent's saliva slicked finger. Time passed and Donnie lost hold of it, not being able to say how long the rhythm of the man's thrusts had been going. He idly turned his head to the window, looking out into the night, the moon directly hitting him in the eye almost as brightly as the sun. It was so white, so blinding from this high up that he was sure he must never have been so close to the moon before.

He flinched and turned back to his host when two fingers were in him, then three and finally he squinted his eyes shut as the man himself eased slowly into his body. He felt the pain, the stretch, but his mind couldn't really linger on it as Brent attacked him with a constant barrage of teasing, flirtatious kisses. For a time there was a balance between the two forces at work on him, but gradually a pleasurable feeling began to creep in. He would have bitten his lip, and hard, but Brent's mouth and tongue prevented him.

"Ah," he moaned timidly, the man's unceasing mouth practically dragging it out of him.

"Don," Brent mumbled as the string of sounds from the young man's mouth grew more frequent. He was close to finishing, he could feel it coming on but he concentrated hard and stayed off for a little longer, convinced that Donnie was close as well.

The man's motions grew faster, deeper as well as the whole bed shook. Donnie began to buck his hips back, having to or else he was sure Brent would drive him into the headboard with his furious pace. He rather liked it though, pushing his weight and rolling his hips back to where the man was driving up into him, having an equal part in the act. It was when the young man, chest heaving with his hands knotted in the pillow, moaning reluctantly while throwing himself into Brent's thrusts, that the man could hold himself no longer. He came loudly while he held Donnie's hips fast to his own, staying buried deeply inside of the boy's body. The older man then reached quickly to stroke his partner's erection, having him then reach his climax a few moments later.

Brent looked down on his guest fondly, but Donnie still had his eyes closed, chest only beginning to slow its breathing. The man pulled out of him smoothly in one motion and shifted to lay himself next to the young man as his sighs and breaths became normal once more. Brent reached over to him, snuggling his nose against his back, smiling. The whole thing had gone rather well in his mind. Maybe Donnie would even let him cuddle up to him for a little while. He wrapped his arms around the torso of the young man, snaking his hands up to criss-cross his chest. The pair lay like this for some time, Brent nuzzling Donnie's neck as the boy lay still, unmoving and quiet. Donnie was thinking and the same thoughts he'd had on the train came back to him. What had he done? It had seemed like a good idea, the right thing to do was to enjoy himself, but his pride shriveled inside him. He'd been moaning like some whore you'd see outside the factory at night, but then again, he was no better than a whore was now. He almost couldn't stand himself as Brent moved closer, he wanted to run out the door but he lacked the strength at the moment. The man mumbled another strain of 'Donnie' in his ear and he began to hate his very name.

"You did so well," Brent complimented, "you've made me so happy, I don't know what to do with myself." The boy continued to lay silent, his spirit lifted slightly by knowing he had indeed made Brent happy, something he'd wondered about even being possible earlier that night.

"I love you," the man sighed into his neck, "I might as well not lie to you anymore about it."

"Don't say that," Donnie whispered harshly. "I know you're just lying," his heart twisted as he said this because he had truly believed every word Brent had told him. But he knew the truth, he knew the rich man could never love him. The man would forget about him and look for a new toy in the morning he was certain.

"I swear I'm not," Brent insisted, his voice returning to the way it had been when they first met on the street, sad.

"I'll go if you want me to leave," the young man blurted, really not knowing what to say. He only knew that he didn't want to see the scene in the morning, when Brent would pretend as if he'd said nothing of the kind, and ask him to leave discreetly, perhaps with a check in his pocket if he was lucky.

"You know I don't want you to leave," Brent was almost pleading like a child at this point, their power and age roles completely reversed as Brent clutched Donnie close to him and continued. "I want you to stay, to stay with me because I love you." Donnie swore that if one was capable of hearing sorrow, at that moment he could. How could he leave a man that professed to love him so dearly?

"I'll stay," he said finally, and once again he could hear the man's happiness, "but only if you promise to not hate me in the morning."

"Never," the man promised as he nodded his head into the young man's shoulder, his voice returning to normal, "Never."

Donnie let it go at that, and once again decided to just believe what Brent had told him. In the end he knew he might want the same thing, but he wasn't sure yet, it was much to soon.

*

In the morning, Donnie woke up alone in the bed. He wasn't surprised however, so he sat up and looked towards the window. Cold winter sunlight poured through it and he knew it was Saturday morning, he was late for work. Actually, he was more likely going to be fired for missing work, he could easily be replaced, but with enough begging he might be able to keep it, the boss liked him well enough. His mind stopped contemplating the state of his employment when a definite smell of bacon wafted by him, followed by eggs and something he wasn't sure he knew. He was hungry and greatly disliked being alone in Brent's bedroom, so he dressed quickly but entirely so he could make a quick escape if necessary. The doors were unlocked so he pushed through them, the living room from the night before was empty so he walked past it, the entrance hall was the same, but a light noise was coming from a new room which he slowly inched towards.

Nerves over-ran him as he was close to peering around the door, but he heard Brent's voice before he could go further.

"Walter, could you see if my guest is up yet. I hate to wake him so let him be if he's still deeply asleep." Donnie took his cue and stepped into the doorway.

"I'm right hear," he said looking at the man for the first time that morning. He was fully dressed in a black suit as he read the paper, a whole spread of dishes in front of him on the long table.

"Donnie!" the man exclaimed as he jumped out of his chair, rushing over to him but stopping halfway through the room to preserve his composer in front of the servants. "Please, sit and have breakfast."

"Actually I'm late for work," he mumbled looking down. He didn't want to leave now that he saw the man still so happy, but he needed that job.

"No you're not, I quit that job for you, it was miserable."

"What!?" the young man's eyes bulged from his head. No job meant no money, and no money meant his mother and himself kicked out onto the streets.

"I got you a new job, a better one," he replied ignoring the boy's dismay, "working for me. Oh, and I also got you a few gifts in addition to what I promised you before."

"I-I," he stammered in shock, a new job? But he couldn't do anything much, not for pay that he knew of anyway.

"Here, this is for your mother," he held out a wool off-white coat, "and these are for you." With that he handed him a brown wool coat of his own and . . . that god forsaken pair of boots from the window. Brent walked over to stand behind the boy as he stared dumbfounded at the shoes he'd been handed.

"I hope these are the ones you wanted so much, I'll run right back to the shop if they aren't."

"Oh, they are," Donnie said meekly as a tear broke free from his eye. The shoes, the bane of his existence, they were his.

His

He closed his eyes and just thought for a moment, feeling the weight of them in his hands.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I just wanted to do as I promised, because it's morning and I don't hate you." He paused, "because it's morning and I know these were what you really wanted." The man's voice dipped a little at the end, showing his ever-creeping melancholy.

"I wanted these, but" he smiled up at his gracious host then, finally understanding his feelings. "They really had nothing to do with last night once I arrived here. So I'm very glad you still like me, and I'm happy to be here with you." He blushed a little, "even if I was out of my job," he chuckled then, and so did Brent.

The man walked with the younger to the table, then the pair sat and began their day. Of course, Donnie still didn't know how to explain the coat he was going to bring back for his mother, but he realized he could say in good conscience that a kind yet lonely man had given it to him. That the man had made him realize what he was truly worth.

Yes, so there is the end to my lovely one-shot. I might continue it though, I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. Just a side note, for those of you who have been reading my one other story "Spring", I promise that it's not dead! I intend to update very soon, honest. ^_^