Title: Beast Was a Tough Guy, Too

Author/Pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: King Kong

Pairing: Carl Denham/other

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: This movie belongs to Universal Studios, I think. The creators are Merian C. Cooper and Willis O'Brien. Carl Denham, Jack Driscoll, Captain Englehorn, Anne Darrow, King Kong, none of them are mine. However, Johnny Smith *is*! No money is being made here, and no copyright infringements intended.

Archive: AllSlash, RareSlash, Movie_Slash, CKos, WWOMB. If I've missed anyone, sorry. Ask me and I'll give 'em to you.

Summary: Carl Denham is down on his luck after King Kong destroys a good portion of NYC and its population. He meets someone even downer than he is.

Warnings: This happens after King Kong, but before Son of Kong. Spoilers for both movies. Because this takes place in the 30s, during the Depression, I've tried to keep the language as authentic as possible, including derogatory references to another nationality. This does not reflect the author's beliefs, and no offense was intended. m/m, language

Notes: For those too young to be familiar with some of the terms, a brief glossary: sinker is a donut; kraut is a derogatory epithet for a German; Horn and Hardahrt is an Automat, an early 20th century cafeteria (and I'm sure I've spelt it incorrectly); mucker is a good-for-nothing ne're-do-well, who would sell his own mother for the price of a drink.

by Tinnean

It was a damp, drizzly evening. The street lamps had just come on, a faint glow misting like an aura around the lights, dimming them. I hadn't eaten anything since I slipped out of the men's mission early that morning, having taken advantage of the coffee and sinkers, but escaping the sermon that went with them.

Too many days with too little to eat was taking its toll. Hunger was starting to gnaw at my gut again, and all the missions were filled for the night: I had let it go too long.

The Depression had caught me, as so many others, unawares, and it had been too long since my last honest job. I found myself doing things I would never have thought, *dreamed* possible!

I eyed the doubtful haven of the saloon and ran a sleeve under my nose, mopping the blood that was still seeping from it. The last bar I had drifted into had not welcomed me. The bartender was a bruiser of a man, and I was lucky to make it out of there with only a broken nose.

But I needed to get out of the weather that was slicing through my threadbare overcoat like a knife, cutting through to my insides. I shivered, as much from tension as the cold. I *hated* what I was about to do.

Firming my resolve, I fumbled for the doorknob, then let myself in.

Half a dozen pairs of eyes regarded me with feral interest, then dismissed my presence with cruel, casual disregard.

Wrong height, wrong build, wrong...sex.

I should have felt relieved. I should have...

I shivered from the cold of the ice that enclosed my feelings.

The bartender was giving me the fisheye, and I knew I couldn't stand there, hovering by the door. I was about to turn away when I spotted the bowl of pickled eggs sitting on the bar. My mouth flooded with saliva and my stomach protested its empty state.

A couple of the regulars, sitting at a table to the rear of the room, called to the bartender, wanting another round, and he poured their boilermakers. He gave me one last glance before sauntering over to them.

A lone man sat at the bar by the eggs, nursing his drink and gazing absently into the flyspecked mirror, his mind obviously elsewhere. I sidled up to my goal and reached a tentative hand toward my only hope of a meal that night.

A fist the size of a ham settled over my wrist and began to squeeze. "Ya goddamned mucker! Whaddaya tink ya doin'?" The bartender had been waiting for me to make a move.

The pain in my wrist was fogging my brain. "Nothing! I'm not doing anything," I whispered through clenched teeth. "Please! Let me go!"

"Now why would I wanna do dat?" He clearly enjoyed hurting me.

"Maybe because it might be good for business? Let the kid alone!" The man nearby didn't even get up. He turned his head and snagged the bartender's eyes with his own. A dark, fathomless onyx, they reflected the light, revealing nothing behind them.

I wasn't surprised when the bartender dropped my wrist and backed off. "Yeah, well he ain't pinchin' none o' de eggs I got here! Dese are for payin' customers!"

"Then I'll pay for him!" The man reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a tattered dollar bill. He looked at it for the briefest moment before carelessly tossing it onto the bar. "That should cover the both of us. What'll you have, kid?"

I couldn't believe he would do that for me. I knew that might well be his last dollar bill; I had held my own in just the same way before reluctantly parting with it. His clothes were good, but starting to show wear: the cuffs had already been turned at least once.

I gulped and felt as if I was being tied in knots. If I accepted his largesse, what would I be committing my body to? But my stomach was pleading for those eggs, and I had no choice. "A beer, please, and...some of those?"

He watched with wry amusement as I stuffed the revolting ovoids into my mouth, almost choking on them. "Say, you're really in a bad way, aren't you, kid? Come on with me."

Oke, here it was: time to pay him back. But I was no welcher; I always made good on my debts. I pushed away from the bar and waited for him to precede me out into the night. Already my ass was clenching in protest of the fucking that was to come. But I had gone into this with my eyes opened.

This is what I had become. I just wished the meal was worth it.

At least he was clean, and he didn't smell of cabbage and stale sweat. I thought there was something familiar about him, but I had gotten into the habit of looking no man in the eye. I couldn't put a name to the face.

I followed him down the silent side street. He turned a corner and suddenly there was noise and light all around us. 42nd Street bustled, no matter the time of day or night. He led the way to a Horn and Hardahrt and got a handful of coins from the girl who sat at the change booth.

"Get a couple of trays, oke kid?"

Numbly, I trailed behind him as he fed the nickels and dimes into the slots and opened the glass doors, pulling out soup and sandwiches, a slice of pie, an apple. We filled our cups with coffee and found an empty table.

The man spread our feast out and set the trays aside. "Dig in, kid! But try not to eat too fast!"

I looked at him in awe. "This is all for me?" Abruptly I decided that it was worth whatever it would cost me. I told him so as I took a big bite of a cheese sandwich; it was dry around the edges but it tasted like ambrosia to me.

His glance was amused. "I'm not in show business anymore, kid. So don't expect me to get you into moving pictures!"

"Oh, no sir! I can't act. It's just that... I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, or dinner, in this case. So whatever you want me to do for you, I'm your man!"

"*Man*? You can't be more than seventeen!"

In fact, I was a few years older than that, but I'd be any age he wanted me to be. I could feel myself blush and avoided his eyes. I had called any number of men 'daddy'. "I'm too old for your pleasure?"

He started choking on his coffee. "WHAT?"

"It's just...I've found some men don't want me because I'm not as young as they prefer. That's all I meant." Obviously I had made a serious gaffe. Was he about to take all that wonderful food away from me because of that?

"You poor kid! Finish eating. I ...just finish, oke?"

I ducked my head and reached for another sandwich. "Why are you being so nice to me, if you don't want to fuck me?" I mumbled around a rather large bite.

"You remind me of someone I once knew. She was blond, and blue eyed, just like you, and she needing rescuing in the worst way. From me, more than anyone else, as it turned out. I got her into a jam so bad, it took the Army Air Force to get her out of it!" He grinned wryly at my blank look. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

I shook my head.

"Did you ever hear of King Kong?"

"Of course! The Eighth Wonder of the World! Carl Denham brought the giant ape back from Skull Island and he ran amok just a few blocks from here!"

"Well, kid, I'm Carl Denham!"

The man whose exploits I followed religiously? The man whose travelogues I would save up for weeks to see? That's why he looked so familiar! His mug had been plastered on the front page of every newspaper in town!

Like that I made up my mind. "Are you going back to Skull Island, Mr. Denham? Because if you are, will you take me with you?"

I succeeded in shocking him. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that island was? We lost 12 sailors on that trip!"

"I...it doesn't matter! I need a job in the worst way, Mr. Denham. I'll do anything. Please give me a try!"

Nonplused, he stared at me for a long minute. Then he got up and refilled our coffee cups. "You know, ki... I can't keep calling you 'kid'. What's your name?"

I must have looked scared, because he reached across the table and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "John," I whispered. "My name is...John. Smith."

From the look he gave me, I could see he didn't believe me. I hadn't meant to mislead him; my name really was John Smith. Since I had been out on the streets, I had learned how to lie without lying. Twist a phrase, hesitate, refuse to make eye contact.

"Well, John Smith, there are eleven lawsuits against me, and I'm about to be indicted by a grand jury. If I can't get out of town within the next twenty-four hours, I'll go to jail for the next ten years! Are you done eating? Then let's see if we can get into my rooming house without any process servers seeing me, and I'll tell you about my late, lamented voyage to the South Seas, way west of Sumatra, and on to Skull Island!"

***********************

The El at 42nd Street still bore the damages inflicted by King Kong. The giant ape had ripped out the tracks, causing a train to derail, resulting in the deaths of dozens of passengers, homeward bound from work.

Their survivors were among those suing Carl Denham. Along with the City, the State and the Federal Government. The feds were out to get him for bringing an unlicensed animal onto American soil.

I followed the story whenever I came across a discarded newspaper. The Daily News, being just a step up from a scandal sheet, had the juiciest stories. Its reporters told in gory, minute detail, all the carnage that had descended upon New York City in that one terrifying night.

Mr. Denham's luck seemed to be taking a turn; we ran into Mickey, a process server who had worked steadily from the day after King Kong had been gunned down by the airplanes and toppled off the Empire State Building. He was oke for a kraut, and he felt he owed Mr. Denham for his present state of employment.

Mickey dealt in second hand clothes on the side, so he dressed Mr. Denham and me in some things he couldn't get rid of, as a disguise. He got us into Mrs. Hudson's rooming house unseen by the rats and stoolies who were lying in wait for the beleaguered director. Mrs. Hudson was one smart cookie. When a very strange looking woman appeared at her door, she twigged right away it was her prized boarder. I was ushered in on his coattails.

"My good deed for the day," he announced easily when he caught Mrs. Hudson's gimlet eye on me. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the mirror she had in her parlor. No wonder those men wanted me: in spite of the broken nose, I made a surprisingly pretty girl!

"Now, Mr. D., you know I don't abide by lady callers visiting my gentlemen after a certain hour!"

"Mrs. Hudson, I love you!" he pronounced. "This is not a young lady, but my very good friend, Johnny Smith!" With a flourish, he tipped up my chin and knocked back my hat. "And you have seen neither of us!" He hustled me up the stairs.

"Indeed I haven't, Mr. Denham!" Her chuckles followed us into the darkened vestibule on the second floor. "Mickey, you get your reedy little body out of my house!"

Carl Denham shucked off the ladies' clothing he wore and tossed it aside. I examined his room as I slowly stripped out of the long skirts and petticoats that concealed my trousered legs.

"Do you know what a man would do if he had a housemaid as pretty as you?" he asked jokingly, and I flushed.

"It's already been done, Mr. Denham."

The tantalizing smile fled his face. "What are you saying? You've been taken advantage of?"

"Well, that's a rather Victorian way of putting it, but...yes."

He had the grace to look appalled at first, but then his eyes took on a suddenly hungry gleam."Say, would you let me...?"

"Of course," I said simply. "I told you, whatever you want to do. How do you want me? Shall I remove my trousers? Or would you prefer me on my knees?"

He looked confused. I knelt before him and unbuttoned his pants, smoothing them down over his hips. His cock was aroused, the head a dusky rose, and whether he had done this before or not, he wanted it. A drop of clear fluid beaded on the tip of the hard flesh that was level with my mouth. I leaned forward, balancing my weight on my hands and licked at him. Touching him only with lips and tongue, I teased at his erection.

I had done this many times before, with no passion, but now I found myself drawn deeply into this act. I parted my lips and engulfed him, taking him into the hot, moist cavern of my mouth.

He moaned and threaded his fingers through my unkempt blond curls. Rocking his hips back and forth, he began fucking my mouth, forcing me to take him in deeper and deeper.

I seized the curves of his ass, stroking the shadowed crevice, pulling him closer to me, finding the puckered opening. My thumbs pressed inward while my fingers parted him; and I wanted my tongue where my thumbs were.

I really didn't think he'd do it. I didn't think he would come in my mouth.

But suddenly his rhythm altered and he was moaning and jerking and pouring himself down my throat. I just barely prevented myself from gagging on the bitter fluid that I swallowed as fast as I could. And still he kept coming.

When it was over, he staggered backwards, his legs too shaky to maintain his position. Fortunately, the bed cushioned his fall. He was sprawled before me, his glorious male flesh all I could see. And then I lowered my head, avoiding his eyes, those flat onyx eyes, that must surely be regarding me now with disgust.

I braced myself for the blows I was certain would follow. All the men I had pleasured in this manner had turned their self-hatred onto me and punished me for their need to have another man suck their cocks. Sometimes they would beat me. Sometimes they would fuck me.

Always they hurt me.

I shuddered and waited.

Gentle fingers raised my chin. "Thanks, kid. *Johnny*," he corrected himself. "I didn't realize how much I needed that. Are you oke?"

I nodded. I couldn't speak, because then I would have begged him to strip me naked and fuck me into next week.

He helped me to my feet and then settled the two of us onto his bed. "I'm...not like that, Johnny. I like girls. At least I thought I did. This last trip..."

"Do you want to talk about it, Mr. Denham?" I asked hesitantly.

"I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Carl. Don't you?"

Carl Denham's POV.
// indicates conversations or thoughts while he's telling the story.

I had gotten this map from the skipper of a Norwegian bark, a few years back, //Mr. Denham told me.// Captain Helstrom had been deep in the treacherous waters south of Sumatra when his mate spotted a small vessel drifting aimlessly. They picked up the sole survivor, a native whose craft had been blown wildly off course. Before he died, the native told him of his island, of the huge wall that separated the peninsula from the rest of it, and of the god who ruled it to this day.

Helstrom drew the map. I won it from him in a card game. That man always did drink too much!

I'll tell you the truth, kid. Johnny. I was tired of making pictures the critics told me would double in gross if only there was a love interest. The public, bless their tiny little brains, wanted romance, so I would provide them with it.

Oh, boy, would I!

Only Weston, the theatrical agent couldn't find me a girl who had the guts to come adventuring with me. And all because of that damned cameraman who turned yellow when a rhino was charging him.*I* was right there with the rifle, for Chrissake! Everything was under control!

When we got back to the states, he told everyone I was too reckless. And now I couldn't find a girl when I really needed one!

To top it off, Captain Englehorn informed me the harbor patrol was going to inspect his ship, the Venture, the next morning. Somehow a rumor had gotten out that we carried powerful explosives on board.

Now I *really* needed that girl!

And so I set out to find her.

Surprisingly enough, I discovered her not too far from where we met, Johnny. Poor kid was starving, just like you, too. Some shop owner threatened to have the cops pinch her because he'd been robbed three times already that week. Asshole!

I took her to the Automat, just like I took you. Her name was...

//"Anne Darrow!" I exclaimed. Mr. Denham smiled at me. His arm had been draped lightly over my shoulder, and somehow it found its way around to my lap. Oh. Ohh! I had never felt that before. He fondled my cock through my trousers and I grew hard. I spread my legs and angled my hips up, seeking more of that amazing sensation.

//He went on with his tale as he continued pleasuring me.//

Anne Darrow. Eyes so blue you could almost swim in them. Hair so gold you'd think it could fund the National treasury. And gutsy! She was so down on her luck, but she wouldn't accept the job from me until I assured her there'd be no monkey business.

//He gave a spurt of laughter, but there was a mournful ring to it. "Sorry. No pun intended!"//

"Trust me, and keep your chin up!" I told her. I brought her on board the Venture and we set sail that same night. And she met Jack Driscoll, the first mate.

How can I describe Jack? Fair haired, bright-eyed. But he could be tough if he had to be. You don't get to be mate by being a pushover!

//"You liked him a lot, Mr. Denham?" I asked.

//"Liked him?" There was a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, I guess you could say that, kid."//

Jack didn't like Anne being on the ship. He felt it was no place for a woman.

But that changed. Slowly, but it changed.

Anne hung around him quite a bit. Well, stands to reason. He was young and attractive. Even I felt that attraction. The other members of the crew ... well the Skipper had to dredge up whatever he could find. We needed a lot of men, and we didn't have the time to be too choosey.

So she fell for him like a ton of bricks. And Jack went from saying that women couldn't help being a bother, to telling Anne that, well, he guessed he loved her.

There was a time, though...

//He paused, lost in thought. I turned into his embrace and pressed an openmouthed kiss to the pulse throbbing in his neck. That was the first time I had ever kissed ... anyone. Absently, he ruffled my hair, and I found I liked having his hands stroking my scalp.

//"There was a time, Mr. Denham?" I urged him to continue.//

I had met Jack once, years ago, and I was as taken with him then as when we shipped out on the Venture.

He was the first man I ever fucked. Oh, don't get me wrong, I *like* women. They just get in the way, sometime. And you know how it is.

Oh. Well, maybe you don't. You have to wine and dine a dame, and even then you're lucky if you get a goodnight kiss, much less make it into bed with her.

Good girls don't do that, you know. And they're *all* good girls!

Hey, you have a nice laugh, Johnny. You should do it more often.

//How could I tell him it had been so long that I'd almost forgotten how to laugh? //

Well, as I was saying, I first met Jack back in, oh, it must have been around '25. He couldn't have been much older than you. Of course, I was a lot younger than, too.

//"You're not old, Mr. Denham!"

//"Thanks, kid. You're sweet to say so!"

//"I'm not sweet, Mr. Denham. I've done things..."

//"We all have, kid! We all have."

//He was so sad. I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, breathing him in, and I shuddered and grew harder. //

I'd been out on the town with a showgirl who thought sleeping with me would further her career. Only I don't play that game. I turned her down as easily as I could, and she turned the air blue with her vocabulary. She used words that would make Captain Englehorn's crew blush! I got out of there as fast as I could!

I was walking through Washington Square Park when I saw a young man being attacked by a gang of bullyboys. I grabbed up a branch that had fallen from an old oak and started yelling like a banshee and flailing away at them.

That's how I met Jack. I took him back to my place to clean him up. He had to take off his shirt so I could get at some of the cuts and scrapes, and I just couldn't stop staring at his chest.

It was so broad, so firmly muscled. There was just the lightest sprinkling of hair spread between his flat nipples. It narrowed as it went down to his waist and disappeared beneath his pants. Where the showgirl had done nothing for me, now I found I was hard, and I wanted my hardness inside Jack!

He saw the way my trousers were tenting, and ran his hand over my arousal, shaping it, making it harder still. I leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath, and he unbuttoned me, taking me out.

//I closed my eyes, feeling chilled to the bone, knowing what was coming next. Jack had gone down on him.

//When I had been sucking him off, he had been imaging it was Jack doing him. As usual, *I* meant nothing to the man who was having me. My throat ached, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. Fool, fool, fool! //

And then he covered my cock with soap. He stripped off his pants and bent over the sink, presenting his ass to me, his perfect, firm ass. And I was in him, no finesse, no style, just an uncontrolled shove and I was buried balls deep in him.

It had to be uncomfortable, but he only grunted once and tightened his grip on the sink, pushing his hips back toward me.

He was the best piece of ass I'd ever had. Hot and tight and *forbidden*.

I didn't even know I was supposed to jerk him off. I just kept pounding away, lost in the sensation. Jack grabbed my hand and wrapped it around his cock, and showed me the way he liked it.

And when I started coming, in all that wonderful heat, I bit down on his neck and sucked until I left a mark that would take days to vanish. I wanted everyone to know he was mine.

//"But...?" I encouraged him when he hadn't spoken for a while.

//"But he wasn't mine. He was gone with the dawn, slipping out while I slept. He never even said good-bye."

//"But you saw him again, didn't you?"

//"Oh yes, I saw him again. Two years ago, when I went to Captain Engelhorn and made arrangements to sail to Skull Island."//

************************

I eased out from under Carl Denham's arm.

"Are you leaving me too?"

I froze. "I'm not Jack Driscoll, Mr. Denham!"

"You think I don't know that, Johnny? You think I don't know whose mouth took me, who swallowed everything I poured into him?"

"Do you?"

Before I realized what was happening, Mr. Denham had grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up tight against him. I could feel his cock, hard and eager, searching for mine. But ... that couldn't be; he had come not more than half an hour ago! How could he be hard again so soon?

"I'm over Jack, Johnny. I was over him before we ever got to Skull Island! I ran into him in the gangway to the forward hatch and tried to get him interested, but he told me flat out that he was wild for Anne. ''You going soft on me, Jack?'' I asked him, and he just laughed and grabbed my hand, held it against his crotch. ''This is what thinking of Anne does to me!'' he told me. ''I don't even think of you anymore. After that first time, I never did!""

I knew Jack Driscoll was lying to himself. If he believed his own words, then he was a fool. "I'll kill him for you, Mr. Denham." There was no heat in the words; they weren't spoken in anger.

"What? Johnny, you can't..."

"Sure I can; it's easy. I'll find Jack Driscoll and kill him, if that's what you want. I'll make Anne Darrow a widow! But he isn't worth it, Mr. Denham. He isn't worth the years you lost looking for him!"

"How do you know I did that?"

"Because that's what I would have done, if you walked out of my life."

Carl Denham stared at me, his mouth hanging open. I shrugged. I knew he would never be mine. I was too damaged. Driscoll wasn't worthy of him, but then neither was I.

I reached for my coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I know you're expecting word from Captain Englehorn. You don't need to explain my presence here. Thanks for the meal, Mr. Denham. Thanks for everything."

I had my hand on the doorknob when his fingers closed around my upper arm. With a hard jerk, he spun me around. He was furious, his onyx eyes shooting sparks of anger. He shoved me back against the door and ripped my coat off, tearing the frayed garment in the process.

And then his mouth was on mine, his tongue licking my lips, pushing past them to tangle with my tongue. For a moment all I could do was take what he was giving me, shocked motionless by his unexpected actions. He plundered my mouth, fucking it with his tongue. My breath was caught somewhere in my chest, and only the pain of lungs deprived of oxygen reminded me to inhale.

And when I did, I was suddenly drowning in the scent and the taste of him, pipe tobacco and whiskey and coffee. I could get drunk on his taste alone.

"I want you, Johnny," he growled, "and if you don't want this, you had better tell me now, because in about two seconds, it will be too late!"

"No!" I whimpered, and abruptly he let me go. "No!" I was shameless, but I didn't care. I had to be possessed by him, had to have him inside me. "Please don't stop!"

His face flushed with passion and I was back in his arms. His teeth scored my throat, then settled on the spot where neck and shoulder joined and he began to suckle, determined to leave a mark. I was moaning constantly, rubbing myself against the leg he had insinuated between mine. My cock swelled and swelled, becoming so hard it was almost painful. I teetered, on the verge of coming.

And then I was past the verge, over the cliff with the ground fast coming up a hundred miles an hour to slam into me. This had never happened to me before. I shuddered and trembled as he held me, and I was scared. And breathless. And ashamed.

Carl Denham leaned away from me, staring into my face, but I refused to meet his eyes. I was what I was; he had proved that. I no longer had the comforting thought that I didn't want it, that *they* made me do it.

More than anything in the world, I *did* want it. With him. I wanted it *badly*!

His thumbs brushed under my eyes, catching the tears that trickled down. He held my gaze, and raised his thumb to his mouth, tasting the salty moisture with his tongue, and then licking my cheeks dry. His warm breath caressed my lashes as they hid the pain I was struggling to contain.

"Johnny!" he whispered, the sound a gentle benison of forgiveness. Somehow I found myself naked on his bed. His callused hands were fondling me, tweaking my nipples to pebble hardness, urging my legs apart as he rolled my balls and stroked my cock. And then his hot mouth was on me, taking me deep in his throat. I was soft, but not for long.

He laughed gently. "The resilience of youth!" He climbed back over my body, his hair-roughened skin tantalizing nerve-endings that had never experienced such sensations.

"Mr. Denham, please!"

"Please, what, Johnny? What do you want me to do?"

But I couldn't say it. As much as I wanted to. It was too reminiscent of the times I had been brutalized and made to beg for it.

I tried to turn out of his embrace, when his fingers found my hole and began pressing for admittance. I froze, but this was different. There was no pain, he wasn't trying to hurt me. I hesitantly raised my knees up around his waist, exposing myself to his expert touch and let him push those fingers into me.

"It can be really good, Johnny. I'm going to make it so good for you!"

I don't know how he did it, but he made good his word. When his cock finally slid into my ass, it went in smooth and easy. I was stretched and able to accept his length. I breathed out a sigh of relief. I wanted him to have this, have me. That there was no pain was a present for me.

Mr. Denham began to rock forward and back, going deep inside me, and then pulling almost all the way out, with just the head of his cock within that ring of muscle. I relaxed and pulled my knees back even farther, and suddenly he hit something in me that made me feel as if I had grabbed a live electrical wire. My cock throbbed and I began thrusting back onto him, desperate for more of whatever he could give me.

He had my knees so far back now that they were almost past my shoulders, and he was pounding away inside me, fucking me, fucking me until I couldn't catch my breath, until he touched that spot just one more time and I spun out of control. Reeling helplessly into the dark, I passed out.

****

"John!" A soft voice was calling my name. "Johnny Smith!" Fingers gently slapped my cheek, trying to rouse me to consciousness. "C'mon, Johnny, you're scaring me now!"

I managed to peel open my eyes. Mr. Denham was leaning over me, concern etched deeply in his face. I smiled at him.

"Hi, Mr. Denham!"

His lips took mine, and then he backed away. I was dismayed to see he had his clothes on. "What..." I got myself under control. "You want me to leave. I'll be dressed and out of here right away."

"No, stay as long as..." He sat down heavily, next to me on the bed. "Charlie was just here. The Skipper's Chinese cook. We sail on the tide. I have to get out of New York right now!"

I tore my eyes away from his. "I understand. It's oke. Thanks for taking care of me, for showing me how good it can be."

"Listen, kid, don't be like that!"

"I'm not trying to be like anything, Mr. Denham."

He scowled at me. "This is going to be a rough voyage, Johnny. The Skipper is taking me on as his partner, and we may never be able to return to the States again. We're going to try to make a go out of hauling cargo in the South Seas."

I forced a smile. "Way west of Sumatra?"

His hands tangled in my hair and he brought my mouth to his for a passionate kiss. "I can't take you with me, kid!"

"I don't think I asked you to, Mr. Denham." I got out of bed, wincing a little as muscles protested the sudden movement. My clothes were all over the room, and I limped from spot to spot, pulling them on as I came across them. "It's oke, Mr. Denham, honest it is. I just wish..."

"What do you wish, kid?"

I held up my overcoat, which was now in two pieces, and I used a laugh to disguise a sob. "I wish you hadn't torn my coat!" I kissed his cheek and leaned into him for the briefest of moments, then straightened and shook myself.

"Have a safe trip, Mr. Denham. And if you can't ever come back, just think of me sometimes, oke?"

**********************

I got out of there as fast as I could, knowing that any second I would break down and start bawling like a baby. Mrs. Hudson's girls were just waking to the new day's chores, and I slipped out without being seen by them.

A rough hand dragged me into an alley as I was walking past. I was fighting as if my life depended on it, when I realized it was Mickey, the process server. I bit off a curse. "Are you crazy? I could have killed you!"

"But you didn't! Have you seen Mr. Denham?"

"No."

"Listen, kid..."

"Don't call me that!" My hands were fisted with rage.

"Huh?"

"Nobody calls me that but Mr. Denham!"

"Listen to me, Mr. Smarty-Pants. If Carl Denham comes walking out of that boarding house now, that newsboy, the blind beggar and the street sweeper will get him! They're all shills for Big Louie, who's been after Mr. D. for months now!"

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "We've got to help him!"

"Ah! That's a good boy!" Mickey patted my cheek and hustled me back into Mrs. Hudson's house. Mr. Denham was finishing a cup of coffee. His eyes lit up when I burst into the kitchen, but he paled at Mickey's warning.

"Looks like I'm in it up to my ears now!" he said grimly.

"No, you still got Mickey on your team, Mr. D.!" the little junkman grinned. He dragged out a satchel and a pair of disreputable overalls and thrust them at the stunned man. "Put these on, I get you out of here! And your young friend too."

"Oh, n-no, th-that's oke," I stammered as I backed away from them. "I gotta get going." But before I could make good my escape a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, halting me in my tracks, dragging me backwards.

"Too late for that, kid," Mr. Denham said ruefully. "Those mugs have seen you here, they'll hound you till kingdom come!"

"I'm not your problem!" I replied sullenly.

"Get into Mickey's wagon and let's get out of here. We'll talk about this later!" He swung the satchel up over his head, concealing his features, and Mickey gestured for me to take his arm and get him safely up onto the wagon seat. The little man picked up the reins and waited until I climbed onto the wagon bed before whistling through his teeth to his horse, the sorriest nag I had ever seen.

"Come on, Petunia. Git up! Rags!" he began crying his wares. "Lamps! New lamps for old!"

Mr. Denham sputtered with laughter. I couldn't see what was so funny.

He removed the satchel from his head. "You've been watching too many Popeye cartoons, Mickey!"

The junkman just grinned and urged his horse faster.

****

I stood at the base of the gangway, watching the men bustle over the ship like so many ants. Soon the Skipper would order the anchor weighed and Mr. Denham would sail out of New York harbor. Out of my life. I stared down at the dirty water that lapped at the hull of the ship, my eyes wide to prevent tears from falling.

"Hey, kid!"

I started and looked up.

"C'mon up here. The Skipper wants to talk to you!"

Sure he did. I scuffed my toe in the muck of the dock, then hurried up to where the two men were watching me with interest.

"Skipper, this is John Smith. Johnny, Captain Engelhorn."

"Sir." Hesitantly I reached out to shake his hand. He took mine in a firm grip and I thought my fingers would be crushed.

"You did my friend a good turn, Mr. Smith. Nonsense!" He rode over my protests. "And any friend of Mr. Denham's is a friend of mine!"

My jaw dropped and then I snapped it shut. "That's very nice, Skipper. I mean, Captain Englehorn. I really need to be going though, and I know Mr. Denham has to get out of the country. I'll just say good-bye, and wish you bon voyage." My upper lip was starting to quiver, and I firmed it. "Good-bye, Mr. Denham. Godspeed!"

I brushed past him to start on down the gangway, but he grabbed my arm and hauled me back. "Sorry, kid. Too late for that!" He grinned as I stared at him stupidly, and nodded toward the dock, which seemed to be moving away from us.

No, wait a minute: the *dock* wasn't moving, *we* were!

"Please clear the deck, gentlemen, we're casting off!" The Skipper put his pipe in his mouth and strolled into the wheelhouse, giving his new mate the coordinates that would take his vessel on the start of her journey back to the South Seas.

"I'll show you where you can bunk down, Johnny."

Numbly, I followed Mr. Denham through a hatchway and into a fair-sized cabin. I looked around in awe. Everything had a place, and there was a place for everything.

"This is too big for me, Mr. Denham. Something smaller would do me just fine."

"Actually, this isn't your cabin, Johnny."

I blushed, ashamed at my assumption, and turned away to hide my burgeoning arousal from him. He was standing so close to me, and I wanted him so badly.

"And do me a favor."

"Sure thing, Mr. Denham," I managed to get past stiff lips.

"Call me Carl. Oh, and Johnny? This is *our* cabin."

End