Unquiet by Melanie Hansen Page A

noticed the door to the equipment building was ajar. He stopped and listened, not hearing anything alarming, like a fistfight, so he stepped inside with caution.
    The room smelled musty, and Loren wrinkled his nose. Why would they be in here? Suddenly a low grunt reached his ears, and he spun around and pushed his way to the back of the small building, expecting to see Tate with Eliot in a headlock, punching the shit out of him.
    Instead he was treated to the sight of the boy he loved down on his knees on the dusty floor, his mouth stretched wide around Tate Miller’s erect cock. Tate thrust back and forth, yanking hard on Eliot’s bluish blond hair, hair Loren had smoothed off Eliot’s sweaty forehead as he held him close.
    “Yeah, suck it, bitch,” Tate snarled, pistoning his hips faster. “Gonna choke you with that meat, you faggoty little slut.”
    Loren took a step forward, thinking maybe Tate was forcing Eliot, but he stopped in his tracks when Eliot moaned in apparent arousal, rubbing the very obvious erection tenting out the front of his own jeans with his hand. Eliot was enjoying this? Tears started to slide down Loren’s cheeks as he watched Tate use Eliot in a debasing, humiliating way, yanking him off his dick a split second before coming all over his face.
    “Yeah, that’s it,” Tate grunted when the spasms stopped, shoving Eliot away so he fell to his backside in the dirt. “Hate to sound like a fudge-packer, but no bitch can suck a dick like you can.” Loren watched in numb disbelief as Tate withdrew a wad of bills from his pocket and threw them down on Eliot’s chest.
    Eliot palmed his erection, grinning around the come coating his face. “So, don’t suppose you wanna help me with this, then?” he taunted.
    “You take your dick out, Devlin, and I’ll cut it off,” Tate muttered, tucking himself away.
    Eliot rolled smoothly to his feet. “Gimme the number too, asshole,” he drawled. “That was part of the deal.”
    Tate wiped the sex sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, then reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
    “I always get the best shit from this dude,” he muttered, handing it over. “It’s good quality, ain’t never had a bad batch from him. It’ll cost you, though,” he warned.
    Eliot held up the fistful of bills Tate had thrown at him, brandishing them with triumph. “Between this and what I stole from my mom’s purse, I got it covered.”
    Tate eyed him. “We could make this like a weekly thing, at least ’til school lets out,” he ventured. “Or until I find a bitch who’ll blow me how I like it.”
    Eliot grinned and spit on the ground a few times, lifting up the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his face off. “Why not?” he murmured. “Bring your friends. I need to build up my savings.”
    A look of disgust mixed with prurient excitement crossed Tate’s stupid face. “Yeah, I know some guys who’d pay to tap your tight ass. If you’re down for it, I’ll set it up.”
    “I’m down for anything that will get me off, get me money, or get me high,” Eliot said flippantly, stuffing the crumpled bills in his front pocket. “All three? Score.”
    Tate snorted, then turned and left without another word. Loren sagged against shelves crammed full of musty football shoulder pads, his naive, stupid dreams in ashes. He scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve and stepped out from where he’d been lurking, and Eliot started in fright when he saw him.
    “Loren? What are you doing here?”
    “Looking for you, obviously.” Loren hated the way his voice trembled, hated the way the tears he couldn’t hold back started to flow faster.
    “What’s wrong?” Eliot asked, coming toward him, and Loren held up his hand.
    “Don’t fucking come any closer, Eliot.”
    “Loren, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
    “Are you fucking kidding me right now, El?” Loren choked. “ What’s wrong ? You were just blowing Tate Miller for money!”
    “He didn’t have