Tarot: the Fool- Paranormal M/M Romance

Chapter Seven

David

The boy was skittish, terrified, and... lost. I recognized the same behaviors in him a few of my foster brothers showed—  the ones who had come out of abusive homes— so I tried to act the way I remember Mama Toya acting. I moved slowly, smoothly, made sure I never came at him from behind, spoke as quietly, soothingly as I could, and kept myself at arms'-length. He seemed to calm slowly, but each question I asked him, no matter how innocent or innocuous, was met with a careful, calculated answer, as if he was afraid of my reaction.

"I don't remember," he answered slowly, to my question as to when he had eaten last. I sighed and dug into my own sandwich. I pushed the dozens of questions I still had to the back of my mind for a time when he trusted me a bit more.

"Do you need a place to stay?" I asked after I had sipped the last of my soup. Zin was still working on his soup, his gaze thoughtful and almost blissful as he sipped slowly, savoring each bite. His lips pursed to blow on the spoonful he pulled up to his mouth, and the sight sent a shiver down my spine as it shot images through my head.

Those plump lips wrapped around my cock as I gripped his hair in my fists. Pressed against my own lips as I devoured his mouth, eating up the hungry moans that slipped out in between breaths. That mouth wide as he screamed my name, writhing on my cock.

I almost growled in frustration, glaring down at my twitching cock.

Down, boy, I thought, wanting to roll my eyes. The kid was at least half my age.

The way he looked up at me suddenly, his eyes wide and watchful, made me think he was about to deny my question. But then he paused, licking his lips (down, boy), and met my eyes full on— something he had only done a couple of times, and never for more than a few seconds at a time.

"I do... I'm not..." He set his spoon down, the clank loud in the almost deafening silence in my apartment. "I don't have anywhere else to go."

I nodded and clenched my fists in my lap to keep them from reaching for him, to comfort him. I knew any move like that, any touch from me, especially at that moment, would achieve the opposite of the assurance I wanted to give.

"I have a perfectly good couch that's not being used for anything more than my fat ass, so I can offer a bed and a roof; food. I also own the bookstore downstairs, and I'm looking for a part-time sales clerk, if you'd be interested. We can talk about benefits and things like that if you think that's something you would want."

The speed that Zin's shoulders rose up almost around his ears, and his eyes shuttered with distrust gave me mental whiplash.

"Why?" he asked hesitantly.

"Why what?"

"Why would you help me? I can't... I won't be able to pay you back for the food, or rent, or even these clothes for... weeks. Maybe longer. You don't even know me. Why would you offer me a job?"

I watched Zin, hoping he didn't get up and run but knowing that was what was flooding through his veins: the need to run.

God, who broke you, kid?

"You need a place to stay. I have a place. You need a job. I have an opening. It's simple math, kid."

"Don't call me that," he snapped, his hand fisting in the tablecloth as he stared me down. "I'm not a child."

I held my palm up in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean anything by it, Zin. I'm sorry."

My immediate capitulation seemed to calm him somewhat. His shoulders drooped, and his eyes met mine again, with only a hint of distrust still shining deeper than he seemed to be able to hide. 

"And as for paying me back, I don't want your money. Let's get you on your f—" I broke off, frozen and speechless at the look that settled into his eyes, his face. The way his entire body looked as if he was bracing for a blow and yet, at the same time, as if he had completely deflated. The soul-deep skepticism, anger, and acceptance that settled over him was instantaneous and disconcerting.

He looked away, down at his hands clenched in his lap, and the weary acceptance seemed to push out all other emotion or thought as he nodded.

"I understand. I'll... I agree. I'll do whatever you want if you let me stay. You can do... You can do whatever you want."

Like a bolt of adrenaline straight down my spine, I understood his reaction and what he thought I had meant. What he thought I wanted in exchange for my help.

The thought had a growl rising in my throat as I slammed my hand against the table and lifted myself to my feet. I towered over him, knowing immediately the position would terrify him, but not caring in that moment. At least, not enough to calm myself and pull away.

He thought I wanted him to let me fuck him so he could sleep on my couch. So he could have a few decent meals.

Fucking hell, I thought as I turned away and stomped to the balcony door, staring down at the few people walking along the sidewalks below. Why is this affecting me so much?

Why did his mind go automatically to selling his body to me? a voice in my mind begged, trying to keep the images from it that wanted to crawl to the forefront. He was just a kid.

Because, the more logical, dark voice in the back of my mind said sardonically. It's what he knows.

I could practically feel his fear, and I turned back as soon as I heard him stand. He was trying to stammer out an apology, his confusion over my reaction heady.

"I'm sorry," I cut in, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile to my lips. "I overreacted. I just... I don't want to have sex with you, Zin. I wasn't saying I'll exchange food and shelter for sex. I was just saying you don't need to repay me. Call it a gift from a friend helping another friend get on his feet. No need for repayment of any kind, monetary or otherwise."

"O-oh," he whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching as he studied me, his relief as palpable as his ongoing confusion. And somehow, there was just a bit of hurt in his voice as he continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

His words turned my forced smile into a genuine one as I couldn't stop my eyes from roaming his body, up and down, almost lecherously.

"No offense taken," I said gently, cocking my head and watching him until he met my eyes again. "You're just not really my type."

"Oh, well I'm a man, so—"

My laugh cut him off and he frowned. I couldn't help but picture a small animal, like a bunny, his nose twitching as he watched me laugh, wondering if I was mocking him and if he should get angry at the affront.

"That's not it," I chuckled, shaking my head and reaching over to start picking up the lunch dishes. He rushed to help me, but stopped when my words registered. "I'm gay as hell. You're just a lot younger than me."

"O... Oh," he repeated, and the blush that darkened his cheeks could have started a fire. "I'm almost 20. I'm not underage."

His pout followed me as I laughed my way into the kitchen, my hands full of dishes and silverware.