Sprace + More

Meetings 🔥

Things haven't been going so well for Racetrack. Sure, they won the strike but that wasn't the problem.

His love life was in danger.

Granted his love life would probably get him a ride to jail.

Being gay 'n all didn't look good for the Bulls. He'd be a goner.

"What's on ya mind Racer? Thinkin' bout a pretty girl perhaps?" Albert teased, bumping into Race's shoulder. He smiled, and averted his eyes down.

"Youse could say somethin' like that. Hey let the boss know I'm headin' to Brooklyn yeah?"

With a sharp nod, Albert walked off with a small skip in his step.

Race picked at the cigar in his hand, taking a deep breath. He was meeting up with Spot Colon.

THE Spot Colon.

Feared leader of Brooklyn.

During the strike they started talking, well, more like fighting.

That lead Race to do the stupidest thing ever.

While they were arguing one time, Race grabbed the front of Spots shirt and kissed him roughly. He was pushed away before he could even blink.

Race still wasn't sure why he kissed the older boy, he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Maybe he was just really desperate, I mean who isn't nowadays?

•••

With those thoughts swirling around in his head he was surprised to find himself nearing the end of Brooklyn Bridge.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Race continued on until the lodging house was in sight.

He's spent some nights here when days got too cold to walk back to Manhattan.

"Hey there Racetrack, what's your business 'ere?" Elmer smiled, crossing his arms.

Sometimes the two would make bets at the Sheepshead. Race always won.

"Hey there Elm, got a meetin' with Spot Colon. What about you ask? Well, Race doesn't know that either."

The boy chuckled and let him pass, nudging his shoulder.

"Lemme know when youse is done, we'll go gamble at the Sheepshead later yeah?"

"Youse know it!"

•••

With a deep breath, Race tapped on the worn wooden door. Mentally preparing himself for the worst.

It opened a few seconds later.

"Glad youse could make it. Come in." Spot opened the door farther and gestured Race inside.

"So youse got your own room then?"

"I's the leader o' Brooklyn, course I got my own room." He mumbled, slamming the door shut. Race jumped and the noise and turned sharply to the shorter boy.

"Wha-"

Spot cut Race off my pushing him against the door, and holding his wrists tightly.

"Are youse ready to talk?"

"N-Not really.." Race mumbled honestly, cheeks heating up.

"Me neither." Spot whispered, crashing his lips against Race's. He gasped in surprise unintentionally letting Spot wander around inside his mouth.

'...what?'

Spot growled softly, reaching a hand up to twist in Race's unruly locks.

He moaned in response.