Chapter One.

For not the first time, Trent wondered what the hell he was doing. Waiting in line at Safeway at two in the morning surrounded by soap mags and fluorescent lighting really hit home the irregularity of the entire situation. He wondered if Blaze would even be there when he got back. He hauled his basket up onto the moving conveyer and hastily removed its contents. Impulsive, he grabbed a handful of candy from the rack near the register and added it to the pile.

He paid, grabbed his bags, and hurried out of the store, long legs eating up the distance to his building. He kept a surreptitious eye out for Blaze although he told himself he was just trying to be aware of his surroundings. His apartment was close. He let himself in and muttered a short curse as the elevator moved so slowly upward. And then he was at his door and shouldering it open, pushing it shut behind him. He locked it.

“Hello?” he called, anxious. He tossed his keys into the dish and moved down the hall into the kitchen. The rooms he passed were dark.

Feeling a sharp pull in his gut he opened his mouth to call again, but stopped short as he entered the kitchen.

Blaze was there, just coming in from the small balcony, crumpled cigarette pack in hand. His eyes looked hard and he acknowledged Trent with a curt nod. He turned his back, the sliding door squeaking as he pulled it shut. Trent busied himself with emptying the plastic bags.

“I bought food. Um, pizza. Beer. Juice.”

Blaze’s gaze flitted over the countertop, seeing the bulky pizza box, the six-pack of Sam Adams. Orange juice.

“I don’t like pulp,” he said.

Trent stared at him uncomprehendingly. He looked at the carton of juice. Lotsa pulp! He always got pulp.

Blaze picked out a candy bar, peeled back the wrapper and bit off a chunk. He leaned his butt up against the cabinets and chewed, looking grimly at nothing in particular.

Okay, Trent thought.

“Everything all right?” he asked, going for casual. Blaze shot him a dark look. “How about some pizza?” he tried. His gaze kept wandering to Blaze’s arms.

Blaze noticed and crossed them moodily over his chest. “Sure. Need help?”

“Nope. Take me five minutes.”

Blaze bobbed his head once and sat down at the kitchen table to watch.

Trent could feel him looking but tried to act normal. He was in his home, in his own kitchen, damn it. He didn’t have the patience to wait until the oven was finished warming, and popped the pizza in early. With that done, he needed something else to do with himself. Some purpose. He snatched the bottle opener magnet from the fridge and popped the cap off one of the beers.

“Want one?” he asked. Blaze’s head bobbed again, and he repeated the motion, tossing both caps into a jar on the counter about halfway full. He handed the beer over and Blaze took a long swig. Trent stood over him, just watching. He wanted to say something, didn’t know what. Maybe, what’s going on in that head or, what’s happened to you.

Blaze seemed to sense the tension in him and fidgeted in his seat, drumming his fingertips over the tabletop. He looked up at Trent, eyes questioning.

Trent couldn‘t handle it. “Want to watch a movie?” he blurted.

Blaze’s eyes went slightly round. It was cute. No, he thought. Not cute. Blaze would hate that.

“Okay.” Blaze trailed Trent into the living room and hovered near the couch until Trent located the remote for the cable buried in the cushions and then the remote for the TV under a pile of newspapers on the coffee table.

With everything on and working, Trent sat down. It was a big, overstuffed leather thing and he sank right into it. Blaze hesitated and sat too, quickly like he wanted to hide his indecision. He sat near but not touching, aware of the arm stretched behind him across the back of the couch. Trent twitched his arm slightly and when Blaze didn’t protest curled it around the narrow shoulders beside him.

Blaze went right with it, curling up next to him like a big cat, his head on Trent’s shoulder. The solid presence warmed Trent and he set about flipping through the channels. He stopped on the first movie he came to, Aliens. “I’ve never actually seen this,” he said.

Blaze’s head shifted and his brown eyes appeared, glittering up at him in the meager light. Trent’s mouth went dry.

“Never?” Blaze did not believe him.

It took Trent a moment to find his voice. “Well,” he amended, “Parts. I’ve seen parts. Here and there.” His voice came roughly. Blaze hummed a low response, looking at him from beneath heavy lids. Trent could not help himself. He tasted Blaze, felt the agile, full mouth come alive under his own. He squeezed Blaze closer, felt an excited tug in his gut when Blaze moaned deep in his throat at the action. He cupped his hand over Blaze’s jaw, felt the rough scrape of stubble. He plunged his tongue into Blaze’s willing mouth, sliding his fingers deep into brown and ginger curls, clean now, still shower damp at the roots. He’d missed this. How had he lived without this.

Beeping started from the kitchen. Trent came back to himself. Hand still buried in Blaze’s hair, he said, “Pizza.”

Blaze was wrapped around him, panting slightly. “Right,” he said, pulling away. He rescued his beer, which he’d tucked in between their bodies, from spilling as Trent got up. He drank it gratefully, needing the slight shock of carbonated beverage to rouse him. He focused his gaze on the television, ears cocked and listening to Trent move in the kitchen: opening cabinets, the clatter of plates on the countertop. The movie wasn’t even playing, on a break for commercials. Detergent ad, political ad, erectile dysfunction ad.

Blaze snorted and buried his hand in his groin, pushing down on the stiff bulge there with a shaky groan. What the fuck was he doing. He’d debated leaving, sneaking out while Trent was away at the store. He’d ruffled quickly through the kitchen drawers looking for he didn’t know what.

No, that wasn’t true. Money. He’d been looking for money. Or, just looking and if he came across the stuff, all the better. Because money he knew what to do with, but this? Pizza and a movie? Make out? Only hours ago the only thing that mattered was how and where he could get enough for a fix.

He’d spent two months in county, getting clean the old fashioned way, and his first night back on the streets found him prowling for a customer and a hit.

And now, well. Now he was having pizza and beer with a man he’d convinced himself he’d never see again, ever. The image of Trent’s face back at the bar kept resurfacing, unbidden. God, he wanted to erase that. A mixture of shock, pity, horror. Pity. He screwed his eyes shut against the memory.

“Here.”

The voice startled him. Blaze’s eyes flew open and he looked up. The scent of hot pizza reached him and he accepted the plate from Trent, who stepped over his feet and sat down, watching him curiously from the corner of his eye. His jaw worked in that way that Blaze knew meant he was thinking. Wanted to speak. Blaze didn’t know what to say either and so stuffed about half a slice into his mouth.

“Shit!” He immediately spat it back out, grabbing for his beer and drinking deeply.

Trent was looking at him, a bemused smile on his face. “Careful,” he said, “It’s hot.”

Blaze glared at him. He accepted the proffered napkin and wiped pizza sauce from his face. “You don‘t say,” he muttered darkly, but Trent only laughed.

Some of the tension in Blaze eased, and he allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up. Let Trent see it. He tried again, blowing on the slice first, then taking a small bite. The movie was back on. They ate and drank silently, watching. Blaze went to take a sip and realized his beer was already gone.

“There’s more,” Trent said, noticing. “Get me one too.”

Blaze hauled himself up off the couch and went to the kitchen. He popped the caps off two more beers and on his way back out caught his reflection in the microwave. It was a dark reflection but still he could see himself well enough. Dark holes for eyes, shadowed cheeks. He felt that familiar ugly surge in his chest, and his face burned. The fuck am I doing, he wondered.

He didn’t belong here. He and Trent had split a long time ago, for good reason. Why had he come? The place was clean and neat, homey. Not like the cells in county, not like the rat holes he usually slept in.

He returned to the living room and sat back down. Handed Trent one of the beers. Trent had already finished his slice, was sitting back on the couch and looking quite satisfied. His arm had returned to its spot over the back of the couch. Blaze didn’t lean into it this time. He finished his pizza first and left the plate and a crumpled napkin on the coffee table. He sat back, feeling ugly and deceitful. He should leave. Trent thought there was still some of the old Blaze inside, but there wasn’t. That Blaze was long dead.

The arm twitched. Curled round his shoulder again. Blaze dove in, slipping his own arm across Trent’s belly and pressing the side of his face to Trent’s solid chest. He didn’t want to look at him. He would do this and then he would leave. Not yet though. After the movie. This, he just wanted to enjoy for a little while longer.

Trent rubbed his hand in slow circles over Blaze’s back, fingers moving every now and again to sift through soft curls, then return. He frowned at the prominence of the ribcage. Blaze had always been lean, with a small belly that Trent adored. Now he was skinny as a junkyard mutt. And those scabs. Lines on his arms. He didn’t want to think on that just now.

The movie was over. Credits rolled quickly up the screen and an ad for the next feature played. They didn’t move. After a moment though Blaze shifted in Trent’s arms. His hands disappeared and Trent felt fingers fumble at his fly. He sat up, hand going still over that skinny back. And then his cock was out, half hard already. Blaze took him in hand, gripping lightly. He spit into his other hand and began rubbing the saliva over the stiffening shaft. Trent bit his lap, let his head drop onto the back of the couch, then forward again. He needed to watch.

Wet heat engulfed the head of his prick and he unleashed the breath he’d been holding in a long whoosh of air. “God,” he whispered. No. “Blaze.”

Blaze ignored him, alternately mouthing the underside of Trent’s cock and wrapping his lips around the head. His hand moved in slow strokes along the base, squeezing near the tip. Trent was stiff and burning, trying not to thrust himself too hard upwards. He moved his hand to the nape of Blaze’s neck, kneading the warm patch of skin. Blaze was really going down on him, not teasing anymore, not trying to work him up. Suddenly, though, he stopped and sat up. Somehow Trent found an apology ready on his lips, but before he could utter it Blaze had settled on the floor between Trent’s legs.

He gripped Trent’s thighs tightly in shaking hands and took him deep. He moved urgently and Trent found himself in sensory overload. The slick heat of Blaze’s mouth combined with the sight of him there on his knees, head bobbing, proved too much to bear and he came powerfully into Blaze’s mouth. That wasn’t right, he knew that wasn’t right. Wasn’t safe.

Before he could say anything, even gather his scattered thoughts, Blaze had risen and disappeared down the hall. After a moment Trent collected himself and followed. He paused at the bathroom door and after a second of indecision knocked politely. He cleared his throat.

“Blaze?”

No answer.

Trent knocked again, louder and more insistent. “Blaze,” he called, firm.

The door opened a few inches. A pair of guarded brown eyes peered out at him. Blaze’s face was red, the hair around his face damp. They stared at each other. Then Blaze dropped his gaze and opened the door fully. Flipping the light off he stepped back out into the hall. They stood there, Trent staring at Blaze and Blaze staring at the carpet.

“Thanks for the pizza,” he said, woodenly. “And beer…” he trailed off. Risked a quick, gauging glance up at Trent.

Trent, who was staring at him like Blaze had just revealed himself to be a visitor from another planet. Which would explain his weirdness. His inability to be a fucking normal fucking person for once in his stupid life. Yeah, maybe he was from another planet. Blaze scowled accusingly at the carpet.

“Um, yeah,” Trent answered slowly, realizing that Blaze needed some kind of a response from him. “Yeah, that’s, that’s no problem.” Idiot. Trent shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I mean, you know. Thank you.” Idiot.

His idiocy got him half a smile at least. Maybe this whole situation was savable. “Listen.” Trent had to try. “I know this is. Kind of weird. But you can stay here. If you want.” He cleared his throat, feeling his face burn. Jesus, he was 33 years old, not 13. Blaze was staring at him, eyes desperate with something, some want Trent couldn’t figure. What? He wanted to say. Just tell me.

Blaze looked down and away, then back again, his lips pursed into a hard, disbelieving line. Trent thought of how soft those lips really were, and felt himself getting hard all over again. Christ, he thought. “It would be nice,” he added.

Blaze was still just staring at him, a cool look in his eyes. “Nice,” he echoed.

Trent jammed his hands into his hip pockets, rocked back on his heels. Yeah, he was thirteen and Blaze was Penny Hong minus the braces but plus a possible drug habit and Trent was asking him to the school dance. “I don’t know what’s going on with you just now but. Back at the bar you seemed,” he hesitated, cast about for the right word or words. Failing that he shrugged, helpless. Yes, he thought. Idiot. He didn’t want to think about what he’d seen at the bar. It made his throat burn.

He’d have a bed for the night at least. Blaze nodded his head, feeling quite numb. “Okay,” he said. He met Trent’s gaze, wondered at the anxiety there. “I’m tired, though.”

Trent bobbed his head like one of those stupid toys people put on their dashboards. Blaze brushed past him to the bedroom. It was basically as he remembered. He began removing his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor where he could grab them in a hurry if he needed. It was cold in the room. Blaze noticed one of the windows was open. He debated shutting it when Trent came into the room behind him.

“At least we have leftovers--” and there he stopped.

Blaze faced him, feeling his nudity keenly. He hugged himself, hiding his arms. He hated the scars. Other parts he hated weren’t so easy to cover up. Like his whole existence. Couldn’t cover that up. His dick hung soft and useless but that hardly mattered. Trent was just gaping at him. An acrid taste filled Blaze’s mouth and he felt a surge of anger toward Trent. Why couldn’t he have just ignored Blaze? Left him alone. He would have been fine. Better. Probably would have sucked and gotten fucked and had a needle in his arm by now if it weren’t for Trent.

“Well,” he said bitterly, “You gonna fuck me or…?” He couldn’t finish.

Something disagreeable churned in the pit of Trent’s stomach. He wondered fleetingly if it was the pizza, but no. What was this?

“What?” he said, dumbly.

Blaze glared, eyes burning, a fine shiver passing through his frame. “You invited me here. You… fed me.”

Trent felt anger lick his gut. Was that what this was? Was that what earlier had been…? He decided to ask. “So that show on the couch was, what? A preview?”

Blaze said nothing.

“Is that what you do now?” Trent’s voice shook. What he’d seen in the bar rushed back, playing over again in his mind. That man’s hand on Blaze. The odd expression Trent couldn’t identify. “You fuck people for pizza and a bed?” He thought back to before. When they’d been together. What did that mean now? He’d let Blaze stay with him. He’d bought dinner. Bought Blaze things like a nice coat, a set of books he liked.

And here they were.

Trent’s eyes raked over Blaze’s body, lingered at his groin, settled finally on his face. Blaze didn’t look good. Looked sick. Shaky. “Christ,” Trent croaked. He felt sick, himself. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, unable to help his lip from curling back briefly. His stomach churned again, in a way that had him glancing back at the connecting bathroom door standing ajar. “Jesus, Blaze,” he said hoarsely, “Say something for fuck’s sake.”

Blaze was staring down at a spot on the floor between them. His arms still crossed over his chest. Trent stepped forward quickly, surprising him, and roughly grabbed Blaze’s arms. He yanked them out, easily overcoming Blaze’s resistance. Scars. Standing stark and ugly against his skin. “Jesus,” he muttered again. “What’s happened to you?”

Blaze pulled at his arms, got them back on the second tug. He yanked his clothes back on, tripping over the legs of his pants, fumbling with the fly. He couldn’t find the sleeve of his shirt right away and panic bloomed in his chest. Just get out of here, he thought. Just go.

“Where are you going?” Trent asked.

Blaze ignored him. Grabbed his shoes. He didn’t trust himself with knotting the laces just now and would carry them instead. At least until he was out of the building. His vision was weird. Blurry, kinda dark. He tried stepping around Trent to leave but Trent wouldn’t let him.

“Hey,” Trent said. “I asked where you’re going.”

Blaze shook his head numbly, trying to dodge the solid figure in front of him. He went left, so did Trent. Ducked right, Trent’s hands were on him.

“Let go,” he said, too loudly. His voice sounded really fucked up. The craving was on him again, powerful this time. Making his hands shake bad, making his throat close up. Trent’s hands closed around his wrists. Blaze tried going straight. Leaning heavily into Trent, trying to barrel him over. Didn’t work.

Trent’s arms closed around him tightly and a voice spoke low and soothing in his ear.

“Hey,” it said. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, don’t go. Stay here, okay? Don‘t go out there. Stay with me.”

Face hidden against Trent’s shoulder, Blaze opened his mouth wide like he would to scream. So wide his jaw hurt and the skin around his mouth stretched painfully. He didn’t scream, though. Just shuddered and made sharp gasping sounds into the fabric of Trent’s shirt. His eyes hurt his teeth hurt his arms hurt.

“Okay,” he said, voice wobbly and thick.

Trent rubbed his back for a minute and then cupped Blaze’s face in his hands. For a moment Trent just looked, searching for calm in those eyes. Once he found it, he kissed Blaze chastely on the mouth. “You’re tired,” he said.

Blaze nodded his head at that. Yeah he was tired. Exhaustion gripped him, had settled right into the marrow of his bones.

Trent rubbed his hands up and down Blaze’s arms. “Why don’t you sleep now. We can talk things over in the morning.”

Blaze nodded again. “Okay.” Wasn’t looking forward to that.

Trent pulled back the big comforter for him. The bed looked incredibly inviting. Big pillows, clean sheets. So different from the cot he had in the city’s rehab center. Worlds different from the cold cement even before that. Blaze peeled the clothes from his body once more, except for the pair of shorts Trent had left him and a t-shirt. He climbed into bed and let Trent tuck him in.

“Thanks,” he said.

Trent shook his head like it was nothing. Like he did this all the time. Tears blurred Blaze’s vision suddenly and he covered his eyes with both hands. What the fuck what the fuck. Trent passed his hand through Blaze’s hair and said, “I’ll be down the hall.” And then he left, leaving the door open just a crack.

Blaze stared at it, wondering if Trent was coming back, decided that it didn’t matter. He was too exhausted to wonder. He curled up under the blankets, hugged one enormous pillow to his chest, and slept.