The Alley

The Alley CoverBad spent the entire day worried the kid wouldn’t be able to get to the Spark and he’d have to cut the little fucker off.

He shouldn’t have let him off so lightly the first time. Failing to follow the same order twice couldn’t be tolerated. This wasn’t a fucking relationship, it was a hook-up, and it was pretty fuckin’ vital that Red understood just who was in charge here.

“Who died and left that sad puppy look on your face, Bad?” Sue stared at him from her half of the desk.

Sue’s presence made everything worse. He couldn’t hassle Red at lunch, and hardly dared glance at camera three.

“What can I say? You depress the shit out of me, Sue. Christ, you should lose weight or something, you’re crowding me here.”

She laughed. “Bite me, Campion.”

“Hey, I would, but the fat rolls would get in my way.”

Sue picked up the stapler and waved it at him. “You want me to kick your ass? I’d say you were sexually harassing me and I was defending myself.”

“Don’t fuckin’ insult me. I’d say that shit if you were a man, Sue. A fat man.”

The stapler came right at his face, but he was quick enough to bat it to the floor, where it broke open, scattering staples everywhere.

“You broke the stapler,” he said to her back.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bad. I’ve just been sitting here filling out reports all day.”

Since he couldn’t tell if he’d crossed a real line or a fake one, he picked up the stapler and put it back together, setting it beside her on the desk. “Just in case someone mouths off to you again.”

“Handing me a weapon. You’re losing your touch, Bad. You going on a round soon?”


“Fucking good. I’m sick of being locked up in this goddamn booth all day.” She stood and stretched, all five-foot-five of her, fat rolls and all.

“You don’t think maybe one of us should stay here?”

“Fuck no. Plus, you owe me lunch.”

“I fucking do not.”

She picked up the stapler again. “You sure about that, butch?”

Bad laughed out loud. “Christ, Sue. Put the fuckin’ stapler down. Fine. I’ll buy your fat ass lunch.”

“Damn right, you will. I’m getting pizza with extra everything.” She slapped her thighs. “Gotta keep the old machine running.”

“You’re a pig, Sue.”

“You trying to say you aren’t taking me to Prom, Bad? I’m hurt.”

He followed her down the stairs, wishing he was alone in the booth, counting down the minutes to Red’s lunch hour. Then again, Sue was a distraction, and he wasn’t meeting the kid until ten o’clock, which was eleven hours from now.

Not that he was abnormally preoccupied with Red. He’d definitely need to find other reasons to spank the boy with the sweet ass. More visits to Room 111 were in their future. Too bad he couldn’t turn on the lights.

“Damn, you’re looking all hangdog again.” Sue knocked into his arm. “Come on, honey, you can tell me. Is it boy trouble? You want me to pass a note for you or something? Hey, is that guy they just hired over at Student Activities gay? He looks gay to me.”

“Oh, jeez, let me check the campus gay list for his name and get back to you.”

“Yeah, you do that. If he’s not gay, I’m going after him.”

“You want to get fuckin’ fired? Christ, keep your voice down. Aren’t you supposed to be married?”

She laughed.

* * *

The Spark was busy and it wasn’t quite as easy to get a beer and lurk in the corner, waiting to see Red’s skittish entry. He got two beers again and skulked around until he could grab a table, fending it off from a group of drunk frat boys and their girlfriends, out at the “lifestyle optional” bar as a change from the “redneck hick” bar across town.

“But there’s five of us!” one of them whined.

“No, Joey, there’s six—” his girlfriend said.

“Shut up, I know how to count.” The kid turned, with exaggerated movements, and counted his friends carefully. “See? There’s five. Stupid.”

“Apologize to your lady friend, jackass.” Bad held the kid’s eye. “You forgot to count yourself. She was right, you were wrong. Apologize.”

“I don’t have to do what you say! We should get the table, you asshole. There’s six of us!”

The girlfriend, slightly less drunk, significantly less stupid, dragged him away, still complaining about the inherent lack of fairness in the world.



“Sit,” Bad said, not looking up. He didn’t need to look up. Even if he hadn’t recognized Red’s voice, no one else would stand this close. Also, he knew the kid’s package in tight jeans. When the kid didn’t sit immediately, Bad reached out to cup his balls through his pants. “I said sit.”

Red slid to the opposite bench, chewing on his lips.


“Thank you.”

Now that Red was sitting across from him, slowly sipping a beer, Bad could feel relief. The relief pissed him off.

“When I give you a direction, you follow it.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry. It’s hard to hear in here.”

“Lift up your shirt.”

Red glanced up from under his eyelashes. After a second he reached down, and lifted up.

Shit, seeing the kid’s pale, narrow chest made Bad want to fuck him. He made Red hold the shirt up until a few nearby people started to turn toward him, then said, “Put it down.”

Order followed, eyes low. Good.

“You ready to go dancing, Red?”

Red’s knuckles went white on the pint glass. “Is that, um, illegal? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I—is that, like, a public sex act? Because maybe I should—if I took a guy to the bathroom to do it—you know, just so I don’t get arrested—” He swallowed another gulp of beer.

“Red. Look at me.”

Eyes met his. Bad bent down over the table so he could speak directly.

“You backing out?”

“I’m trying to finish school and get a degree and find a place to live for the summer. If I get arrested, all that gets harder. This is fuckin’ hot, but it’s not my life. It’s like I’m living someone else’s life temporarily, and I don’t want my life to get totally fucked by it.”

Bad stared him down long enough to decide he was telling the truth. He was scared, but willing. But not stupid. “The corner by the speakers gives you a little bit of privacy. Go out there and find someone who reminds you of yourself, Red. You’d like it if I got you all riled up dancing and fucked you with my finger in front of all these people, wouldn’t you? Even if no one knew it was happening.”

“Yeah,” the kid mumbled. “Yes, sir.”

“Go find yourself,” Bad said. Did that count as a pun? A double entendre? Just a stupid throw away phrase with multiple meanings, probably.

Red drank half his beer, then slid off the bench.

Watching him choose was fascinating. He aimed too high, and the first guy didn’t dance long. The second seemed promising, but when Red tried to maneuver him toward the corner, he ran into an ex and got into a fight. Red, looking dejected, made his way back to the table and didn’t sit down.

“Just thirsty,” he said, reaching for his beer.

Bad clamped down on his arm. “Try the kid sitting over there, at the table. Came here with a big group, all of them out there dancing but him. You might take your beer over, sit down, try to make him laugh.”

“Make him laugh?” Red asked. He sighted the boy and looked back at Bad. “You want me to finger-fuck a chunky Asian kid for your amusement? Totally not the kind of thing I thought you’d—” He broke off. “Why?”

Because when I told you to find yourself, what I really meant was find my pathetic eighteen year old self. Shit.

“Because I fucking said so, Red.”

He looked over again, then shrugged. “Okay.”

This time his entire approach was different. Red gestured at the chair next to the fat boy, and the boy, eyes wide with shock, nodded. They talked for a few minutes, Red animated, the other boy still looking shocked, but occasionally smiling.

Good job, Red. Come on, work magic, make the lonely boy—who undoubtedly repeated “I don’t dance” over and over to his friends tonight—feel good.

Jesus Christ, Bad, get a fucking life.

Red stood up, clearly trying to convince the other boy to come with him. The boy shook his head once, more slowly the second time, then shrugged indecisively. And he’s in. Red laughed again, and took the boy’s hands, pulling him up.

The fat kid had no moves, no rhythm, no ability to even keep a beat. Red danced close, keeping his hands on the kid’s waist, guiding him. The Asian boy was blushing red, but kept smiling, and eventually he settled his arms awkwardly on Red’s shoulders. Red moved in closer, subtly turning them so no one was behind Fat Kid.

They danced for a fucking long time, and Bad thought Red was talking, or yelling, that close to the speakers. Fat Kid’s hands shifted, lower, tucking into Red’s back pockets. Solid strategy, give the boy a prize.

He finished his beer and wished Red hadn’t taken his with him. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna walk over the the bar for another.

Then Red leaned back, putting on a show for Fat Kid of sucking on his index finger, and Fat Kid’s face burned crimson, Bad could tell even across the rest of the dancers. He tried to picture the wicked look on Red’s face and had to adjust his pants. Bad could tell when the deed was done because Fat Kid stopped dancing, even though Red kept moving in front of him, bending his legs a little, shifting to one side to better reach around Fat Kid’s body.

Yeah, right there, fuck, knowing what Red was doing made him hard. Watching Red’s bubble butt undulate as he finger-fucked Fat Kid didn’t hurt, either.

Jesus. Bad inconspicuously rubbed his dick through his pants and wondered if he could get away with shoving Red under the table to suck him off. Probably not. What with the not getting arrested plan.

They kept dancing for a few minutes, but eventually Red kissed Fat Kid’s cheek and led him back to his table. He picked up his glass, waved, and returned to Bad.

“Oh my god, that was—fuck! He was so sweet, he said his friends—”

Bad grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him up. “Shut up, Red.” He pulled him along behind, through the back door and out into the alley, looking for any semi-secluded location.

The far side of the dumpster would do.

He shoved Red to his knees and unzipped, keeping one hand in Red’s hair. “Suck.”

Not that Red needed specifics. He took Bad in and took control of the blowjob effortlessly, one hand going to his shaft, the other weaseling just inside his shorts, searching for his balls.

Shit.” He tugged Red’s face in harder, choking him, waiting for him to resist.

But Red only gagged around his cock and looked up, eyes watering, as he massaged Bad and jacked him faster.

Oh yeah, boy? Bad rocked him hard, making him gag again, and that time he won, Red’s hand going flat, trying to push back, trying to breathe.

“That’s right, little Red,” Bad said, pulling back until only the head of his dick stretched Red’s lips. “Fuck yourself with the finger you used on him, boy. Go on. That’s your fucking finger now, and I want it in your asshole when I come down your throat.”

Red swallowed, the contraction glorious on Bad’s cock. His shaft hand lowered, twisted behind him, shoved down his tight, tight pants.

“That’s right, that’s right. Shove it down there, Red, shove it in nice and deep. Don’t fucking pretend, either.”

Red groaned and Bad fucked his face harder as he arched, wiggling his little boy-hips like he was trying to fuck his finger back.

“Good, good, fuck yes, is it inside, Red, is your finger in your ass?”

The kid blinked up at him.

“Keep it there.”

Bad went deep again, once, twice, three times, Red trying to swallow like he did last night, but not having enough time, or maybe not enough focus. Looking up the whole fucking way, and it was that, seeing all that fucking submission in the kid’s eyes, that did Bad in. He fucked as deep as he could, and this time when Red gagged, he came, pumping the kid full of spunk, far too much for him to swallow so it dripped down his chin.

“Christ,” Bad muttered, pushing back the tide of sudden longing. I want to tie you to my bed and torture you until you come, Red. I want you to plead with me not to do what I’m doing, and then thank me when it’s over.

No, fuck, this was a goddamn hook-up with a stupid kid. Not more than that.

He wiped his dick on Red’s face and pushed the last of the come into his lips. “Eat up, princess. You can take your finger out of your ass now.”

Red pulled his hand out, holding it awkwardly at his side.

A terrible, fucked up idea occurred to Bad. He grabbed the wrist of Red’s hand and held it up, making a fucking show of sniffing it. “Yeah, smells like ass. I think you have some ass on this finger, little Red. Messy, messy boy.” He folded down Red’s other fingers in his own hand, so only his ass finger was extended, waving in front of his face. Red’s nose flared, like he could smell it, too.

Shit. He’d balk, he’d refuse. It didn’t matter. This was a fucking hook-up, and Bad made the rules.

“Open your mouth, Red.”

Eyes locked on his. Red shook his head.

“Yes. Open your mouth. Do it.”

Red tried to pull his hand back, but Bad clamped down.

“Open. Your. Mouth.”

Slowly, looking at Bad the whole time, Red’s lips parted.

“Wider. I want to see inside. I want to see where my dick’s been. Where my fingers have been.”

Red’s throat worked as he swallowed, again, and opened up.

“That’s real good, Red. Real good.” Bad moved just as slowly, just as surely, pressing Red’s hand towards his own face, fucking finger still extended.

“Please don’t,” Red whispered.

Bad froze. “Open your fucking mouth, Red. I’m not gonna say it again.”

Lips parted. This time he jammed his thumb between Red’s back teeth so he couldn’t close his mouth and did it fast, wiping Red’s finger, a combination of his ass and Fat Kid’s, on his tongue, back and forth, like he was wiping it on a fucking towel.

“There. That’s better.” He did it a few more times and Red closed his eyes. “All clean, Red. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Bad let go and straightened up, standing as tall and big as he could, looking down at little Red, who looked even smaller than usual.

The kid closed his mouth and stayed kneeling there, not moving.

“Get up,” Bad said. “I’ll give you a ride to the horseshoe.”

Red didn’t say a single word to him all the way back to campus, didn’t look at him when he got out of the car, didn’t wave.

Bad watched him walk away, heart beating uncommonly fast. What the fuck? He could have said stop, dammit, he knew the fucking rules. He could have gotten up and walked away. Jesus. The kid was being a big fucking baby. Plus, it was just a little ass, not like you didn’t get more rimming than that.

He watched until Red climbed the steps to his dorm and disappeared inside.


* * *

Sue was already at work when he got in the next day. He sat heavily and drank his coffee, mostly staring into space for the first half of the shift, and she didn’t poke him too much. The only time she actually got his attention was when she tapped the monitors on her way to take a round.

“Your little showboy didn’t come in today. I’m disappointed, Bad. I like it when the little exhibitionist performs for the camera.”

She was out the door before he could come up with a reply, which was probably a good thing since his first thought was You stay the hell away from him.

Not good. Not good at all.

He checked his messages, but nothing. Not that Red was obligated to call in sick to security, so the fact that WWF was the only one down there in the mail room was really none of Bad’s fucking business.

Oh, really? You think?

He threw the phone back into its cradle and paced the room a few times.

This was his fault. Red called in sick to work—to a job he’d never missed a single fucking day of—because of him. What had the kid said last night? He needed a degree and a place to live, and he could only play with Bad if it didn’t fuck up his chances of getting those things. Right. And now this.

But he could have said stop. He could have walked away.

He didn’t, though. He called in sick to work instead.

Bad pulled out his own phone and tapped out a message to Red. Then deleted it. He tried another, but that one sucked, too. Maybe just You okay? No, too—too something. Or Was hoping to see you play with yourself at lunch. But if the kid was skittish because of last night, that might be the worst thing he could say.

He was staring at his fucking phone, half-written message still unsent, when Sue came back in.

“Here. Got you a candy bar. Chocolate’s good for PMS, Bad, they’ve done studies.”

“Fuck you, Sue.”

She did something suggestive with the Snickers bar, then tossed it in front of him. “Lighten the fuck up, you’re bumming me out.”

Bad put his phone away and opened the candy bar. “Is this the reason you’re fat and crabby all the time? Year-round PMS?”

“You make a few more comments like that and I’m gonna go into your files when you aren’t here and fuck up the alphabet.”



He ate the candy and vowed to stop fucking thinking about Red.

[olympus_box color=”green” float=”center” text_align=”left” width=””] Stay tuned for next week! Jump to Room 111 for the discussion![/olympus_box]