The Dangerous Lives of Renter Boys

More of this. It\'s unbelievably fun to write, that\'s why!! This bit has some quasi-violent content, watch out kiddies! Possibly qualifying as H/C, I dunno. Whatever, Yay for boi-toys and la fee verte!

*****


It\'s a bit past seven o-clock the next night when Finny and I get back to Warwick\'s, and a shitty night it is. In typical London fashion, it\'s raining. But not a hard, cleansing downpour. More of a depressing, soggy drizzle, which makes everything squelchy and mildew-smelling. Finny and I have one umbrella between the two of us, which means each of us gets half-wet which, granted, is better than getting fully wet.

We jog the few blocks from our room to work, over the slippery cobblestones and through the puddles. We burst into the warmth of the lounge with a flourish, a grand entrance if I do say so myself. The old man gives us a glare, glancing at the clock markedly at the elaborate grandfather clock in the corner. A few minutes past the hour. He likes us to be here on the dot of seven. We ignore him and strip off damp coats and hats, tossing them onto the hook-rack.

Four of the other boys are gathered around the fire, three on one couch and one sitting off to himself. The three together, Alfred, Anthony and John, turn to face Finn and I, laughing impishly. They are the picture of casualness, their bodies in close contact, legs and hands woven together into a forest of limbs. They could be triplets for their appearance is so similar, all of them with tawny curls, clear, pale skin and rosy, pouty lips. But Alfred is a bit taller, Anthony bigger through the shoulders and chest, and John more slight, more defined in bone-structure.

\"Look what the cat dragged in!\"

\"What were they up to, d\'you suppose? Looks as if they\'ve been rolling about in the mud!\" Elbows and giggles.

\"Sod off!\" Finny and I approach them with a smile, both of us melodramatically plunking down on the opposite sofa with simultaneous sighs. The other boy who I mentioned, the one who I have not described as of yet, sits next to us, straight-backed and unflinching, not joining in the fun.

He is a slight thing, freshly arrived from some Slavic country, Serbia I believe, only a few weeks before. Heaven knows how he heard about this place, he barely speaks the tongue. But heard about he did, and showed up on the doorstep asking for a job in broken, almost unintelligible English. Yuri Cosic, that\'s him. He\'s painfully shy and practically mute, which, for most boys in this line of business would be a career-killer. But he has one thing going for him: intoxicatingly gorgeous looks. He said that he\'s eighteen, but looks years younger, and he\'s blessed with glossy black hair which flops down over the flawless, dusky skin of his face and into his wide, dark eyes. He has an endearing way of catching his full lower lip in his teeth which makes the rest of us invisible when men are choosing who they want to take upstairs. Not that I\'m jealous, I get more than enough business. Really! And there is something in Yuri\'s eyes every time, fear or dread maybe, that makes me pity him immensely for his popularity. We all try to keep him out of trouble, and we\'ve managed for a few weeks.

Predictably, the first guy who walks through the door wants Yuri. This guy is a regular who hasn\'t been around lately, a nasty brute of a man who likes to play it rough. We usually draw straws to see who has to take him. But tonight his glance latches onto the small boy next to me, and he saunters over. Finny sees where he\'s heading and shakes his head almost imperceptibly at me, negotiating with me to keep the guy away from our innocent Yuri.

The man winks at Yuri, beckoning with one blunt hand, the gesture met with a look of mute terror. He gets up stiffly, taking the man\'s outstretched arm like a zombie, a trained poodle. He seems to know that something is wrong, that this one will not be easy.

The man, instead of taking his prize straight up to the play rooms, leads him across the wide room to the bar.

The five of us are hushed up, brows furrowed, no more laughter.

\"Shit.\" Finny leans forward, elbows on his knees. \"That is not going to go well. We should try"¦\"

\"Does he know how to make all the drinks?\" Alfred breaks in, always the logical one. See, there is no bartender, just us. We\'re expected, as part of the Warwick\'s service, to be able to make any concoction imaginable, legal and not-so-legal.

\"Feck. I didn\'t think of that.\" I grimace. \"I showed him how to make some, but I\'m not sure he\'ll remember all of them. Shit.\"

\"C\'mon.\" Finn drags me up and tugs me across the room, me trying to dig in my heels and stop him.

\"What the hell are we going to do?\" I\'m whispering out of the side o mou mouth as we walk. Warwick gives us a funny look.

\"I dunno, just follow my lead.\"

Yuri is behind the bar, the guy sitting in front of him, elbows on the polished surface. We saunter up and surround the man, one leaning in on each side.

\" \'Ello there!\" We\'re both leaning in close to him, and Yuri watches us curiously from his position behind the bar. Finny takes the lead. \"We were hoping you would reconsider your choice.\"

He looks at us for a minute. \"Y\'mean take one of you?\" He shakes his head.
\"Or both of us.\" I wink. \"We\'ll do whatever you want.\"

\"I just want \'im.\" He nods across the bar, the hope that had been in Yuri\'s eyes disappears and he bends to get a glass out of the cabinet .

\"Look at the possibilities. Two of us for one price.\" Finny is laying it on thick.

\"Look, you greedy louts. I want \'im, only \'im. Alone! Sod off!\" We both straighten up, holding up our hands in defeat.

\"Wanker.\" I mouth this at Finny behind the guy\'s greasy head, and he purses his lips and glares at me, trying hard not to guffaw. I tip my head at Yuri, and with a glance we have a plan to help him out, at least a bit.

\"Well, if we can\'t get any business from this kind gentleman, at least make me a drink, doll.\" Finny says this a little too loudly.

\"Anything for you, love!\" I spar back, heading back behind the bar, close to Yuri, so that I can keep an eye on his drink-mixing without being obvious.

I bend to the cabinet and make a random grab, coming up with a fluted wine glass, and a sideways glance tells me that Yuri is trying to make absinthe; his lucky guy is looking for the green fairy. I mentally congratulate myself; I\'ve shown him that one before, and he\'s doing well. He has half a glass of bright green liquid, but he looks unsure now. I start pouring into my glass from the first bottle my fingers touch, trying to send a silent message. Sugar! Sugar! To make it less bitter! But he doesn\'t know what to do.

I see the spoon he needs, within my reach but not in his. I pass it to him, and wink, trying to give him some confidence. I continue haphazardly pouring small amounts from different bottles into Finny\'s drink.

It does the trick. He sets it across the mouth of his glass, finds a cube of sugar and sets it in the well of spoon. I pass him the right bottle, and he pours the clear liquid over the sugar like a pro, watching the drink turn from bright and clear to milky and opaque green. He gives it a stir, and slips it across to the guy, visibly relieved that he managed. I pat him on the shoulder while his client is absorbed in guzzling his hard-wrought beverage.

But there\'s really nothing Finny and I can do now for him, so we heack ack to the others, me with the precariously full wine-glass balanced in one hand.

We shrug at them, and they understand. It\'s up to Yuri now, no matter what any of us do. Finn grabs the drink from me and takes a swallow.

\"Shit!\" He\'s coughing and his eyes are watering. \"What the hell is in this, idiot?\" He laughs at me, spilling a bit on his lap.

\"I haven\'t a clue.\" We pass it around and everyone chokes at the disgusting mixture of mystery booze. Yuri is led up the stairs, which quiets us all down, and an unnatural somberness settles on our normally rowdy bunch.

But almost immediately I\'m whisked off by a handsome man in a close-cut grey suit.

*****

The upstairs hall is half-dark when I pad out of the room, letting my customer sleep off his exhaustion. A noise from behind startles me, and I half-turn before being rudely knocked into the wall.

\"Watch"¦\" But the knocker is already around the corner, heading down the stairs. My split-second glimpse of him as slid past me is burned into my mind, and the image of what I somehow know was blood on his hand makes my heart fall.

I race into the half-open door he came from at such a bent. I can only see the top of Yuri\'s down-turned head, and the tops of his slight shoulders. He\'s sitting on the floor, propped against the far side of the room\'s bed. The candle is still lit, sitting on a tiny table-stand next to him.

\"Shit, shit!\" I hiss to myself as I approach him, down crouching down in front before he knows I\'m in the room. As I reach out to touch his shoulder, he whimpers, eyes fluttering opening, glinting in real fear. He cowers away from me.

\"Yuri, Yuri, it\'s just me! Allright?\" A shaky gasp of air escapes him, as he blinks in recognition, swallowing and breathing hard, but no longer trying to escape my light touch. His clothes are on the floor behind us, and he\'s totally exposed, knees drawn up against his chest, but both of us are well past embarrassment.

His nose is bleeding rather badly, blood dripping thickly down his chin, onto his chest and knees, mixed with streaming tears. I tug my handkerchief out of my sleeve and press it up to his face, and we sit awkwardly like this for a time, me rocking unsteadily on my haunches and him shaking, arms curled around himself, eyes open and pleading.

My hand is sticky and my shirtcuff spotty red by the time the bleeding stops. I pull away slowly, and toss the sopping rag on the floor. Yuri still hasn't said a word, made even a sound except for the snarled gasp when I first reached out to touch him. I gently lift his chin with two fingers, examining the damage. The nose is definitely broken, kinked to the left just a bit, and his right eye is already starting to develop a purplish ring. The angel-perfect face is spoiled forever. When I release his chin, his head lolls down, eyes closed but still leaking tears. I have no idea what the hell to do.

\"I\'ll get someone. Don\'t worry.\" He doesn't respond as I get up.

I race down the stairs, confronting old Warwick.

\"That wanker hurt him!\" I gasp out.

\"Who?\"

\"Yuri!\"

\"Is he dead?\" The old man looks at me with cold eyes.

\"No, but"¦\" I\'m cut off by a shrug. I entertain thoughts of killing the old bugger, strangling him slowly. \"Won't you alert the police?\"

\"For one of *you*?\" His laughter is chilly. \"They\'d shut us down. Fix him. I need him to keep working.\" I\'m incredulous.

\"Finny!\" I glare at Warwick for a measured second more, before turning to find Finn beside me, brows furrowed. He knows that something is up. But I\'m on my way up the stairs already. \"Get some ice, second door on the right\" I call to him, and see him nod.

Yuri is in the same position as when I left him.

\"Yuri, sweet, Finn\'s getting some ice.\" I have no idea how much he understands, if any. He doesn\'t look up. \"You need to sit up on the bed.\"

He doesn\'t move, so I haul him up, hands gripping the sides of his narrow chest, setting him on the edge of the bed, noting the nasty bruises on the insides of his thighs and a raw, blood-oozing scrape stretching across his shoulder blades. His front is tacky with half-dry blood from his nose, from face to knees, and I can just see the two half-moons of a bite mark low on his belly. Not a pretty sight. His skin tells a story. The guy punches him in the face, throws him down onto his back on the rough floor, kicks him a few times. I don\'t even want to think about the bite mark...

\"Christ!\" Finn starts as he comes in. \"He really did a number on him, didn\'t he.\" He\'s cradling bit of ice wrapped in a cloth.

I nod as Finn sits down and wraps his arm around Yuri, enveloping him in a comfort-hug. I walk to the dresser and pick up the heavy ceramic basin, trying not to shake and splash any water around as I set it at Yuri\'s feet.

\"We need to clean him off.\" I grab a towel and wet the corner, wringing it out. I start with his face, sponging carefully, trying to spare his already-swelling nose. \"Do you think it\'s broken?\"

Finny leans in for a closer look, and nods. Quickly, catlike, he presses a thumb on either side and there\'s an audible crack as I turn away, unable to watch. Yuri howls, scratching at Finn, who again gathers him in an embrace, stroking his arm as he settles down.

\"You have to set it, or you\'ll never be abl bre breathe right again.\" He says this more for my benefit than for Yuri, who\'s tears have started again with renewed force.

\"You could have giving him some fookin\' warning.\" I punch him in the knee.

\"Nah. It\'s better fast. Caught unawares.\" Finny holds the ice to Yuri\'s nose. I shrug, continuing to work on the blood issue, wiping at Yuri\'s chest, the towel already rusty and mottled, but Yuri\'s dusky skin is coming clean. When I get to his stomach, his thighs he is still complacent, but noticeably more tense, turning to bury his face in Finn\'s shoulder. Finny starts humming something sweet into his ear.

\"That\'s all I can get off.\" I wring the towel out into the basin. \"What the hell are we going to do with him?\"

\"Take him home?\"

\"Where does he live?\"

Finny shrugs, pursing his lips. \"Dunno. Could we take him to our place for the night?\"

\"Do you want to come to our room for the night, Yuri?\" I poke him to get his attention. \"It\'s warm, and you can have my bed.\" I don\'t think he will respond, but he looks at me through liquid eyes and nods slightly.

Finn and I do our bto gto get him dressed without hurting him more than he already is. He looks so frail, so young.

\"What are we going to say to the old man?\" I finish buttoning Yuri\'s jacket.

\"We\'re going to tell him that we\'re going home and to shove it up his bleedin\' arse, that\'s what.\" Finn\'s words make me smile, and we set off, each on one side of Yuri.

But the old man say naught when we pass him at the bottom of the stairs, and Alfred, sitting by himself at the bar, nods at us understandingly. He knows.

It\'s not raining anymore when we get outside, but everything is wet, slippery, and all the eaves drip as we assist Yuri over the wet cobbles. The night is not quiet. Typically Whitechapel, rowdy catcalls and shouts from various brothels meet our ears, and we have to weed through groups of drunken people. We\'re almost home when a particularly determined harlot latches onto us, placing her quite-ample bulk directly in our path.

\"You boys looking for someone?\" She has bad teeth, but smiles widely anyway.

\"No.\" Finn stares her straight in the eye, determined to stare her off, instinctively moving closer to Yuri between us.

\"C\'mon, you lovely laddies don\'t want t\'have a lil\' fun?\"

\"Sod off! We\'re not lookin\'\" I try to shoo her away, but she stands firm.

\"All of you, for one price.\" She licks her peeling lips and winks.

\"Look.\" Finn pushes Yuri back behind us and grabs my arm, tugging me close to him. He smiles at me in a funny way, and I realize what he\'s up to a second before he leans in to kiss me, mouth wide open and warm. He makes sure the girl in front of us gets a good view of his tongue pressing past my lips, violating the inside of my mouth. As we separate, and turn back to the whore, she looks horrified.

\"Thanks, but we\'re really not interested.\" I cock my head at her and wiggle my eyebrows. \"Sorry, love.\" She moves in a hurry, disappearing down a dark alley.

We collect Yuri, who is standing, albeit a bit shakily, on his own an arm\'s length behind us. He stares at us, shocked, and Finn and I both try to keep our faces emotionless, flat. But a smile begins to play at the corner of Yuri\'s lips, and he lets out a small giggle, which sends the Finn and I into spasms of laughter as we start to walk again.

\"Did y\'see the look on her fa-...\" I can\'t finish, chest aching as we near our place. Up two steps, and we\'re in the tavern, curiously called \"Fat Sam\'s\" although the owner is an impossibly skinny man named Angus. staistairs at the back lead up to our small room.

My key sticks in the stiff lock, and I fight with it for a minute before letting us in. Yuri surveys our room, which is not too impressive. Two beds crammed in the small space, a table stuffed in between, a closet with no door and a fireplace.

Finn gets a fire going as I point my bed oo Yuo Yuri, and he sits, tugging at his jacket, grimacing. It must be rubbing against his back. His face looks painful, swollen.

With a glance at Finn, we leave him alone, sensing that he might want some privacy. We head down to find something to eat.

\"You can share my bed tonight, and he can have yours to himself.\" We\'re heading back up the stairs, only a bit tipsily. I nod.

When we arrive back, Yuri is curled up on my bed in just his under-trousers, the blanket kicked onto the floor. He seems asleep.

Without a word, Finn and I both peel off jackets, shirts, trousers. I pick up my blanket and make to cover Yuri with it. His eyes open and I see unadulterated fear in them for the second time that night. He\'s skittish.
But he reaches up to me, his arms open and pleading, or maybe demanding. Finn shrugs at me and covers his smiling mouth with one hand.

I hesitate, but slip under the blanket beside Yuri anyway, compcompact body surprisingly hard and warm against me. He turns his back to me and snuggles against me on his side, his smaller body fitting perfectly into the curves of mine. I\'m careful not to jostle him as I wrap one arm around him, settling my hand on the perfect plane of his hip.

*******

This gets more interesting every time! Thanks for reading, I\'d really like to know what you think (and would love any suggestions for where I should take this beast). xo.