The Rusty Old Minivan

Chapter 22

'Rule number one: no sex without condoms.

Rule number two: no meet-ups at someone's private home and no meet-ups without the other person waiting outside in the van.

Rule number three: no meet-ups without speaking on the phone to the man first.

Rule number four: cash in hand.

Rule number five: full payment first, favor after.

Rule number six: no breath play, hard BDSM or other activities which could be potentially harmful.'

"And," Harry muttered, hunching over the note-pad again. "I'm putting another one on there."

"What?" Louis asked, leaning in to try and read it. They'd spent all night making the list. How it took so long, Louis wasn't sure because they hadn't argued about any of the points, in fact they hadn't spoken much at all. Most of the time, they'd just been biting nails and trying to avoid looking each other in the eye.

And now, here they sat, in the early morning sun, with a sorry little list to make them feel like they had any sort of control.

Harry wiped lead-dust off the paper with the back of his hand and pointed to the seventh and final rule on their list:

'Rule number seven: If possible, Harry will take part in or take over all clients needed to raise the sum.'

"What's that supposed to mean?" Louis knew what it meant. He knew what it meant, but he wasn't sure that Harry did. Really.

"Means that I want to do, uhm- whatever these men want. If I can make it happen, I'd rather it be me than you. Wasn't you who got us into all of this. Shouldn't be you that makes this sacrifice to get us out of it. Not if I can prevent it anyway."

Louis let out a long breath, fixing a stray curl out of Harry's eyes. He knew he couldn't change Harry's mind on this, but he also knew he wouldn't need to. The men that Louis knew, the men that he used to meet up with, men like Chuck, they wanted men like Louis. Boys like Louis. They wanted someone they could pin down, fuck to shambles and gag until they cried. They wanted to fuck someone smaller to make themselves feel bigger.

So all Louis said was, "I love you," and when he didn't react, "Harry."

Harry wrapped his hand around Louis' wrist and kissed the tender skin where his veins showed through. "Louis," he replied.

"Love you."

Harry swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to the notepad again. "Love you too," he said, his voice so frail it was almost a whisper.

*
That evening, when the kids were tucked under the covers, sleeping soundly, Louis grabbed his last packet of cigarettes and his phone and went outside. He fished the little note out of his pocket, straightened the crinkled paper and dialed the number he'd never wanted to have in the first place.

"Hello?"

"Hi. This is... this is Louis. Louis Tomlinson."

A chuckle. "Louis Tomlinson... ah. Held onto my number after all, did we?"

Louis fisted the note up in his hand, biting his tongue over rude retort. "Yes," he said tightly, "I guess I did. Does your offer still stand?"

"Does my offer still stand?" he echoed smugly, then paused for effect for so long that Louis wanted to launch his phone across the street. "Does my offer still stand...?" he sang again. "Well. Let me answer your question with another question, Louis; does your arse still look as great as it did when I gave you that offer?"