Today (Morning)

"Hey. You okay?"

Abel crossed the stretch of grass between the little roadside coffee shop and the picnic benches, cradling two coffees and two breakfast burritos in his large hands. Theo blinked and looked around. The road was a main thoroughfare, wide asphalt stretching long in both directions through open fields of a short, lush green crop. Trees sat on far hills, breaking apart the fields. There were none on the hill with the coffee shop, just a breeze buffeting people's burrito wrappers and half-full paper cups of coffee, and the expanse of achingly blue sky arching above them. Wisps of clouds hung beside a faint imprint of the moon, washed out by the early morning sun.

Abel sat beside him at the picnic table and lifted a brow.

"You know that you rhyme when you say that? Hey. You okay?" Theo repeated for him to hear.

"I didn't realize it." He separated the spoils of his journey through the long line to the shop window, checking the brusque Sharpie labels on the side of the coffee cups and burrito wrappers. "Black coffee and an egg-white spinach burrito for you. And here's your fork."

Abel's eyes followed Theo's fingers as he unfolded the wrapper, set his coffee on the corner that kept getting blown up by the breeze, and set about deconstructing the burrito. Abel had not touched his burrito yet. He sipped his coffee, then twisted and spat it on the ground. The liquid darkened the gray gravel surrounding the benches. Theo stared at it, then looked at Abel.

"Let your coffee cool down a bit before you try it." Abel swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then frowned at Theo's coffee. "In fact," he reached across Theo's open burrito to ease the lid off his cup, "yours needs to cool even more since it doesn't have creamer."

Steam rose from the dark liquid. Theo jammed the end of his fork against the soft wood of the picnic table to break open the plastic wrapper. He frowned at the little spots of red among the white and green filling of his burrito.

"I'm surprised you drink black coffee."

"Creamer has too much sugar." Theo picked at one of the dark red mushy tomatoes. "They put sun-dried tomatoes in this."

"You don't like that?" Abel asked, then immediately came to his own conclusion and reached out, "I'll have them remake it."

Theo waved him off and shook his fork over the edge of the wrapper so that the little tomato fell off the tines with a plop. "I can just pick them out. No big deal."

"What's wrong with sundried tomatoes?" Abel finally unwrapped his burrito and bit into the corner.

Theo picked them out slowly, creating a little red mountain, watching the oil that still clung to them from when they were stored in the jar seep into the paper. People often called him crazy for his picky eating. They called him crazy for everything he did, but his fussy eating habits were an especially easy target. For example, he would eat his burrito with a fork and throw away the tortilla.

You better watch your carbs. Your belly is getting a little soft. Ken would tell him things like that and then get mad when he tried to order his food a specific way. You're too high maintenance.

"I just don't like them," he shrugged. "Tomatoes at all, really."

Abel nodded and squinted out at the fields stretching across the road. His burrito smelled spicy and savory, as though there was sausage in it. It was already a quarter eaten, while Theo had yet to take a single bite. He nibbled on a piece of feta, tangy and delicately crumbling on his tongue.

"Do you not like flour tortillas?" Abel asked. "Or is that like coffee creamer? They have too many carbs."

Theo chewed and swallowed a bite of spinach. "Too many carbs."

Abel picked up Theo's free hand and inspected his wrist. It was thin, the bone prominent, and seemed even more so next to Abel's thick forearms, which were sturdy and crisscrossed with veins beneath bold black tattoos. When his fingers wrapped around Theo's forearm, warm from holding his coffee cup, his thumb and pointer finger overlapped by a large margin. Everything about Abel was larger than Theo. Usually, men like that frightened him, but seeing Abel's fingers circling his wrist made him feel snug and safe.

"I think you could use a few more carbs," Abel said, and Theo rolled his eyes. "Seriously. Aren't you trying new things?"

Like the cigarette earlier, when he wanted to see if they tasted any different.

"Here." Abel set his burrito down and tore off a piece of Theo's tortilla, then used it to pinch up some of the egg white, spinach, and feta. He held it out for Theo to take. "Just try it."

Theo delicately picked up the bite and tilted his head back to put it in his mouth. It was delicious. He smiled shyly at Abel, who nodded in triumph and took another massive bite out of his burrito. It was now half-eaten. By the time it was all gone, Theo had eaten half of his burrito, ripping off pieces of the tortilla and pinching up the filling. But he was full.

"I can't eat anymore."

"That's okay. It'll keep for a while." Abel crumpled his wrapper into a tight ball, then stood to drop it into the trash can so that the wind would not bat it away. "Do you want to take it in case you get hungry later?"

"Okay." Theo tore off the oily corner of paper holding the sundried tomatoes and refolded the burrito to the best of his abilities. He handed it over to Abel, who said something about putting it into a bag with the other snacks he had brought. Then he popped the lid back onto his coffee. A gust of wind dragged his hair and shirt as he stepped over the bench seat. Nearby, a family squawked and leaped to chase after their napkins and whatnot.

The inside of the car was much quieter. Theo settled into the comfortable seat and took a tentative sip of his coffee. It was still hot but not scalding. Bitter and dark. He put it in the cupholder. Abel slid into the driver's seat and gave him a once-over as he jammed the keys into the ignition. "Seatbelt."

Theo twisted to grab it, then paused and turned back. "May I have a kiss?"

Abel grinned and let go of his own seatbelt. He leaned over the center console and Theo's black coffee to wrap a hand around the back of Theo's head and tilt it to the perfect angle so he could dip in and press their lips together. Theo liked that he kissed like that, always cradling his head or his neck or his jaw. Gentle and firm. Thumb brushing along his cheekbone or fingers carding through his hair. He pressed their lips together once, twice, three times before drawing back and fastening his seatbelt. Theo copied him, then braced his elbow against the door and looked through the side window, a hand covering his smile.

One year ago

Lights strobed throughout the dark club. Even in the loft, tucked back from the dance floor and lit with an ambient glow of blue and purple, the bright lights flashed, and multicolored lasers swept across the ceiling. The beat pulsed through the floor, vibrating Theo's boots.

Only his toes touched the ground. His heels were lifted like a little kid's because Ken had dragged him onto his lap instead of letting him sit in his own seat. Not that Theo would have had anywhere to sit anyway. All kinds of Ken's associates were crammed into the loft, knees knocking together as they leaned close to hear their conversations over the pulsing music. Many people stood with drinks in their hands. All kept their heads on a swivel, a force of habit in their line of work, so they could size up the others that Ken invited.

Theo hated being in Ken's lap, but he was grateful. Many of the sweeping gazes lingered on him. Eyes crawled across his skin, from his boots to the fishnets beneath his ripped jeans to the silk top Ken had unbuttoned the moment he got his hands on it. Even then, his bare knees and chest were not enough for them. Their gaze settled on him for so long that there was no explanation other than they were mentally undressing him and running their hands all over his body.

Women and men eyeballed him in equal measure. Most of the men were probably not even gay, but to them, sex was about power, and the gender of the pretty little thing perched on Ken's lap was hardly of consequence. They saw him as an ornament, like the heavy gold watch on Ken's wrist. And so, despite hating it, he was grateful to be in Ken's lap where familiar hands rubbed his thigh, trailed over his belly, and traced his collarbone.

But it was still hardly a safe place.

Ken perked up beneath Theo's lap, jostling and making him frown when he upset his drink. The guest of honor had arrived. A new business partner who secured a new line of whatever the fuck Ken was dipping his fingers into now. That was hardly any of Theo's business, yet he was still expected to be here to celebrate and give his congratulations.

The guards at the top of the steps parted to let the man through. He was middle-aged with thin eyes and a neat goatee who spoke with a thick accent that Theo could not place. When he reached Ken, he took in the half-dressed boy splayed across his lap, then smiled and bowed slightly.

"Mr. Aoi," Ken held out a hand, brushing against Theo's arm and upsetting his drink again, "I'm glad you could make it. I know you were tired after all the travel and negotiations."

"They went smoothly, thanks to you, Mr. Hansen." Mr. Aoi sat in the only empty seat in the loft when Ken gestured for him to do so. Theo scowled down at the spilled drink staining his jeans. It had dripped into his boot, as well. As Ken and Mr. Aoi exchanged a few more pleasantries, one of the staff materialized beside Theo to take his spilled drink and supply him with a fresh one. Theo immediately brought it to his lips to slurp down half so there was less danger of it sloshing over the rim of the glass as Ken shifted around beneath him.

It tasted how the club smelled – of strong, bitter alcohol and a mix of perfumes and sweat. Ken never let him get anything that tasted decent because he looked fruity enough already. Theo thought that was supposed to be his whole appeal. He sat all small and compact in Ken's lap, with the man's broad hand spanning the entire diameter of his thin waist, piercings dangling from his ears, and eyeliner making his baby blues pop.

That broad hand, which had been settled flat over Theo's belly button, moved to nudge one of Theo's knees so that his thighs rested on the outside of Ken's legs. Then Ken spread his legs to press Theo's even wider apart.

"Do you like what you see?" Ken asked. He wrapped a hand around Theo's throat possessively, and Theo cast his eyes across the couch to look at Mr. Aoi. He was looking at Theo's exposed crotch, the glass in his hand empty aside from its ice. There was a pink hue to his cheeks.

"Very much."

"I did promise you something special if you came to celebrate with me. How about a line from my special stock?" A dime bag flapped between Ken's pointer and middle fingers, shiny in the strobe lights. "And you can take it off Theo's tits. Then, if you like the sample, you can eat the whole meal."

Ken's hand dropped from Theo's throat to his crotch. As he palmed the fly of his jeans, the zipper and stiff denim dug uncomfortably into Theo's cock. But he knew better than to complain. He took another gulp of his drink.

"You mean I may," Mr. Aoi nodded at the hand covering Theo's fly, "have Theo?"

Subtleties were sometimes lost across language barriers, and it was best to clarify. Theo was impressed. Mr. Aoi was a smart man. Others had believed Ken was making such an offer when he was not and had their balls removed for it. Ken appreciated Mr. Aoi's bluntness as well.

"Yes, that is what I mean," he confirmed. "Theo lay down."

Theo held his drink out, and someone plucked it from his hand. Then he shifted to sit between Ken and Mr. Aoi on the couch so he could twist and lay back, the top of his head brushing Ken's lap. One leg remained planted on the ground while the other folded to rest against the back of the couch between him and Mr. Aoi.

Ken popped open the dime bag and dipped his pinkie in to take a quick hit for himself. Then he did it again and pressed the powder to Theo's nostrils. Theo despised snorting anything. It made his nose burn, itch, and run. But embarrassing Ken in front of his new business partner was not an option, so he sniffed sharply.

"Good boy," Ken praised, wiping a bit of the powder from Theo's nose, then pushing it between his lips while he poured the rest onto his sternum.

Theo closed his eyes. The beat pulsed through the sole of his boot planted on the floor. He imagined it vibrated through all the little bones in his feet and ankles, up his tibia and fibula to his femur, then through his hips to spread to the rest of his body. The couch shifted beneath his hips and head as Mr. Aoi leaned over him, one hand on the cushion by Theo's ear for support.

His thumb was atop a lock of Theo's hair, pulling painfully on his skull. The folds of the silk shirt were uncomfortable between his back and the couch. He desperately wished to shift but then felt Mr. Aoi's breath on his skin. He snorted quickly and without much fanfare, as if he had done this a million times, then licked the remaining powder from Theo's sternum. His thumb brushed the shell of Theo's ear.

As soon as he sat back, Theo pushed himself up and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He used it to wipe at the saliva shining on his chest. Ken caught his wrist and leaned in to murmur against his ear. "Why don't you clean up in the bathroom."

Poor Mr. Aoi. Ken was not even sending them to a hotel room. Theo shrugged, rose off the couch, and then lurched toward the bathroom without giving himself the much-needed moment to center himself amongst the strobing lights and headrush. But people stepped out of the way, so he did not crash into them.

The bathroom was about as well-kept as that in any club Ken frequented. A mirror was cracked, toilet paper and trash overflowed from the bin, and graffiti littered the stalls. Theo wet a paper towel under the tap and wiped the spit from his chest.

But the action meant nothing because a moment later, Mr. Aoi followed him through the door. His arms wrapped around Theo's body. His tongue trailed up the side of his neck. Theo wondered if the shimmer body lotion tasted good. The wet paper towel fell to the tiled floor with a plop.

Mr. Aoi maneuvered him into one of the stalls. The door pushed in, so there was no room to allow it to close behind them. It banged against the side as Mr. Aoi fumbled with the button and zipper of Theo's jeans. There were a couple of numbers to call for discrete hook-ups and one or two vulgar drawings on the wall. The toilet had a manual flush, thank god. Theo hated fucking in bathroom stalls with an automatic flush because sometimes it would not stop going off and splashing his stomach with water.

He leaned down to brace his hands on the wall above it. Mr. Aoi shoved his jeans down his thighs with a rushed mutter in his native language that Theo could not understand. His fingers spread over Theo's ass, palms pressing sweaty and hot to his skin. Then they curled into the netting of his fishnets.

"Hey! No, don't -," Theo protested, knowing what was about to happen a moment too late to prevent it. A snapping tear filled the room as Mr. Air yanked the fisted netting apart, ripping a hole in the stockings. He twisted to glare at the asshole, but a rough hand on his shoulder shoved him forward so hard that his hand slipped and ended up in the toilet bowl when he tried to catch himself.

"What the fuck?" Theo hissed, snapping his hand back and shaking the water from it. But he knew better than to try and twist around again. Even in the bathroom, which was more brightly lit than the rest of the club, shadows stretched toward him from beneath the other stalls, peeking up from behind the toilet. His lips pressed together as he swallowed down his disgust.

Except then, the hands roaming his body and prodding between his ass were gone. The stall door banged against the wall again as Mr. Aoi was yanked back. Theo did turn around at that. There was a lot of shouting and flailing limbs. Mr. Aoi was clearly outraged by the rough treatment. The other guy, who had a hand fisted in the back of Mr. Aoi's suit jacket to haul him out of the bathroom, also looked furious, but his was a cold fury.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Theo alone with a dripping tap and the shadows. He bolted up and yanked his pants back on so he could stumble after them.

The whole loft had gone quiet. Everyone was turned in their seats. Some stood poised to jump into action if needed, but Ken waved them away. He was up on his feet, approaching as Mr. Aoi finally freed himself from the aggressor's grip. Mr. Aoi was still rampaging in a mix of his native language and English. Ken put a hand on his shoulder, made a sympathetic face, and then turned to the other man.

"Hello. May I ask what happened?" Ken looked the aggressor up and down. He was young, probably around Theo's age, although his height, bulk, and the sheer number of tattoos on his arms and neck made him seem older.

"He was in the bathroom assaulting one of your other guests." The man's arm swept wide, and his finger, along with everyone's eyes, landed on Theo. A chill ran down his spine, dragging with it his heart and all the blood from his face. Ken's eyes narrowed, darkening with anger. Theo's hands began to shake as a sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

"What makes you think he was being assaulted?" Ken turned his narrowed eyes back to the man.

"Isn't he your –" he cut himself off and held up two hands, lips pressed thin. "That doesn't fucking matter. He was in there telling him 'no' and 'stop.' Sounded pretty clear to me."

"Is that so?" Ken's eyebrow lifted as he looked to Theo for an explanation.

"He ripped my stockings," Theo said quietly.

"Did he?" Ken strode forward. His eyes were black now, showing no emotion at all. With no hesitation, he backhanded Theo. The sharp crack of his rings cut Theo's cheek. The clap of skin against skin pierced the base from below. The force of it knocked Theo to the side, but he did not try to clutch his face. Instead, he allowed the sting to buzz and blood to flow freely under the scrutiny of all those watching.

They loomed over him like shadows stretching long as the sun sank, eyes bright in the strobe lights. Some of them grinned. The darkness between their glinting white eyes and teeth crowded closer and closer. Circling to violence like sharks at the first scent of blood.

Ken buried his hands in Theo's hair, shoved him to his knees, and lifted his face for them all to see.

"Your poor stockings," he mocked. "He could have ripped you a new asshole, and you would have screamed for more, but you complained about something like him ripping your stockings? Shallow slut."

"What the fuck?" the aggressor spat.

"Don't you get it?" Ken let go of Theo's hair with a harsh shove. "He's a slut. Was bending over and spreading it for our esteemed guest here because he loves it. He was just being a brat about his stockings getting ripped. Isn't that right? Theo, why don't you apologize to Mr. Aoi for all the trouble and show this young man how much you want Mr. Aoi's cock?"

Theo's face burned, but he was on the ground among the black shadows between everyone's legs. They urged him forward, shuffling across the gritty loft floor toward Mr. Aoi's legs. His eyes remained lowered out of shame that no longer belonged to him until he pressed his cheek against Mr. Aoi's crotch. Then he flicked his eyes up to look at Mr. Aoi's face.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," he whispered. Then he nuzzled the line of the man's cock through his slacks, allowing himself to glance at the man who'd pulled them out of the bathroom. He should not have. The look of revulsion on his features made Theo's insides clench with embarrassment. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out through his nose. He stuck his trembling hands between his folded thighs to still them.

The quivering vibration of footsteps crossed the floor as the man stormed out of the loft. The uneven staccato was an odd accompaniment to the measured base from the speakers below. A hand wrapped around Theo's arm, dragging him to his feet and toward the steps.

"Get him downstairs to a car." Ken shoved Theo toward a guard. "I'll bring Mr. Aoi as soon as things are smoothed over." He stuck a finger in Theo's face. "Then you'll finish the job you just fucked up so badly."

The guard led Theo through the club to the front entrance, shoved him out the door, and left him on the sidewalk while he went to speak with the valet. Theo tucked his hands into his pockets and avoided glancing at the line waiting to enter the club and all their stares.

Above him was a cacophony of summer bugs, released by the muggy heat to throw themselves with vital effort at the streetlight. The light itself buzzed angrily as well. Theo winced and looked away. The man leaned against the brick of the building, smoking a cigarette. They stared at each other.

"Is all that real?" he asked. "What Ken said? That it was your choice?"

Theo was the one who got up and walked into the bathroom. He bent over the toilet seat.

He shrugged.

"I thought you were Ken's boyfriend or whatever." He brought the cigarette to his lips but paused to add, "He doesn't seem like the type to share."

"Ken isn't my boyfriend." Theo giggled. "He's my sire. Like a vampire, except he's a demon. He can do whatever he wants with me."

The man sucked on his cigarette, then blew the smoke out, scrutinizing Theo all the while.

"So, he told you to sleep with that guy?"

Theo shrugged again. "Maybe. Why are you worried about it? Are you interested?"

He just smoked some more instead of responding. When Theo began to approach, his eyes flicked over his body only once. His frown deepened when his gaze landed on the untied laces of one of Theo's boots, jumping and clacking against the concrete sidewalk with each step. But then his eyes returned quickly to Theo's face. Like everyone, however, he traced the line of his long legs to his belly to his throat to get there.

"We could get out of here, you know," Theo purred. "Together."

The man's lip curled. "Cause you're a slut, right? Give it up for anyone, eh?"

The streetlight above them flickered out, casting the area around the club's entrance into darkness punctuated only by the neon purple sign above the club door. Along with it flickered out the strange novelty, edging toward relief, that Theo felt the moment this man pulled Mr. Aoi off him. He took a shaky step back.

The car pulled up to the curb, and Mr. Aoi exited the club with perfect simultaneous timing.

"Fuck you too," Theo grinned at the man, gave him a two-fingered salute, then turned his back to go join Mr. Aoi.

Even though that should have been the end of that, he dreamed that night of an angel standing bright among the demons swarming him in his sleep. When he woke from the dream, there were tears on his face. He wiped them away, wetly laughing at himself, and turned onto his side to face away from Mr. Aoi, who slept on the other side of the hotel bed. But he could not go back to sleep, staring at the room's dark corners until the sun bathed them in gray morning light. 

A/N: Theo and Abel meet for the first time. Not exactly meet cute, but the event will stick in both of their minds.