Title: Sugar Daddy III: Forever Your Boy

Author: Lorelei

Pairing: Skinner/Krycek

Rating: NC-17. If you're underage, go away.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: CC created them, sorta like a sperm donor. Thanks, Chris. We'll take over from here.

Warnings: Poor language, skimpy clothing, spanking, sex, Daddy/boy play.

Status: New/Series

Archive: RatB, FHSA, Basement, WWOMB, anyone else please ask first

Thanks: To Gaby for sharp-eyed beta and much-needed kicks in the butt. Her enthusiasm for this story, dedication to the characters and spot-on suggestions were an immeasurable help. This story would not be what it is without her. And to the real Johnny, even though he'll never read this. Thanks also to Amazon, Elizabeth, Josan, Ursula and Catrina.

Summary: So AU it's in. Prequel to the Sugar Daddy series. You wanted to know how they met, here it is.

Dedication: Happy birthday, HollyIlex! And a belated happy birthday to Raven. Hope no one else got you guys a pretty boy in black leather.

Sugar Daddy III: Forever Your Boy
by Lorelei

Walter Skinner stood at the window of his suite, staring down at the lights below. Fifth Avenue was a long unbroken line of taillights, the infamous Manhattan traffic never letting up, even at this late hour. It was quiet there on the nineteenth floor of New York's famously luxurious Plaza Hotel, its pampered guests well insulated from the noise of the city.

He let the curtains close and lifted the bottle of beer, taking a long, satisfying swig. He chuckled, remembering the faint hint of haughty disapproval he'd detected when he'd placed his dinner order with room service. The waiter had arrived precisely one-half hour later, his face carefully neutral as he wheeled in the cart, swathed in its crisp white linen.

The filet mignon had been excellent, of course...but the cold Sam Adams was even better.

Walter's Hugo Boss jacket and tie were draped carelessly over one arm of the expansive, richly upholstered sofa. He tossed them aside and sat down, picking up the telephone with one hand and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt with the other. He took another sip of his beer, listening to the phone ring on the other end of the line. He checked his watch casually. It was midnight on the West Coast. A little late but he could probably catch Mort between the nightly irate phone call from his ex-wife and his bedtime belt of single-malt scotch.

The phone was picked up on the other end.

"Hello, Walt." Mort's deep voice was edged with resignation and amusement.

"How'd you know it was me?" Walter asked with a grin, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Who else you know who'd have the brass balls to call me this late?" Mort groused. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Indeed I do," Walter answered lightly. "I do own a Rolex." He grinned again, watching the light skate over the face of his Oyster Perpetual. "I'm going to pick one up for you here in New York, Mort. A little gift to show my appreciation for all your hard work. Did you know they're waterproof up to four hundred feet? That'll come in handy when your ex-wife finally has you dipped in cement and tossed in the Bay."

Mort heaved a world-weary sigh and laughed. "At least then she won't be able to call me up and chew my ear every night."

Walter laughed and took another pull at his beer. "So how is Judy?" he asked. "Still scraping by on a hundred thou a month?"

Mort laughed again. Walter heard the edge of pure delight in the man's voice and wondered, not for the first time, if Mort didn't really look forward to his frequent scraps with Judy and her latest legal team. "Yep," he said happily. "She called me tonight screaming blue murder. She wants double the alimony. She wants to go to Nepal to find herself. I told her if she keeps yapping at me, she won't be the only one looking. I bet the I.R.S. would be plenty interested in that silly boutique she claims to own and where all those designer clothes really end up."

Walter laughed again. "You're all heart, Mort."

"That's what she gets for marrying an accountant," Mort replied. "Now what the hell is so important?"

"Have you got the financial report ready on that company I want to invest in, the one in Vermont?" Walter asked, his stocking feet parked irreverently on the Plaza's gleaming mahogany coffee table.

"Yeah, it's on my desk," Mort grumbled. "Look, Walt, I have to advise you-"

"I know," Walter interrupted. "It's a risky venture. But what's life without a little risk? I can afford it."

"Not if you keep investing in dogs like this," Mort complained. "For Chrissakes, Walt, these kids are barely a year out of college. They've got a lot of big ideas, but that's all they've got."

"Just overnight the report to my office," Walter said patiently. "I'll go over it when I get back."

"Walt-"

"Goodbye, Mort. Love to Judy," Walter said, hanging up the phone. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. All around him, New York roared, but inside this opulent cocoon, he could hear nothing but his own breathing. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The quiet in this damn place was beginning to get to him. He picked up the sleek remote control from the coffee table and turned on the sound system. He flipped quickly through the options, finding nothing that pleased him, and tossed the remote onto the sofa in disgust.

He rubbed the back of his neck absently. To hell with it. It had been a long day of meetings and endless conference calls, and his muscles were stiff and sore. He had begun to believe, after achieving his position in the business world, that the lack of comfort a piece of furniture provided was directly and exponentially linked to its price tag. He had spent the last meeting of the day in Soho, perched on a steel pipe and leather contraption that looked fabulous but which threatened to induce permanent curvature of the spine.

He stood up and looked around the room. The place was beautiful, no doubt about it. Once it had been filled with music and laughter, with Vanderbilts and Fitzgeralds enjoying everything that money could buy. Walter smiled ruefully as he walked toward the suite's lavish master bathroom, intent on surrendering his aching muscles to the state of the art multi-jet shower. He wondered as
he did if the generations of glitterati who had occupied this suite before him had learned the same hard lesson he had learned over time; that money really can't buy everything.

Walter turned off the shower and opened the glass door. He toweled himself off quickly. Wrapping himself in the thick bathrobe, he padded barefoot into the living room. He picked up the remote again and a sleek, widescreen television rose silently from its hiding place inside a massive teak cabinet. Walter sat down on the sofa with a sigh. Maybe he could catch the sports report on
ESPN before bed.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Walter put the remote down and stood up. He walked toward the door. The knocking came again before he could open it, louder and more insistent. Annoyed, Walter opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his jaw drop.

The boy lounging casually against the doorframe was beautiful. He was also nearly naked. Luminous green eyes stared flirtatiously up at Walter from beneath a sheaf of tousled dark hair. A lush mouth quirked into an undeniable 'I've been naughty' smirk as Walter's unexpected visitor stood, shoulders thrown back, one hip jutting out, letting Walter look his fill. The boy hooked his
thumbs in the belt loops of the barely-there cutoffs. They were slung so low, Walter could see the fine golden hairs just below the boy's navel, the beginning of a faint trail that led to treasures that were prominently displayed under the skintight denim. And they were cut so high, they made long sleek legs look even longer. They seemed to go on for miles before finally ending in a pair of black Doc Martens, a hint of rolled white sock barely visible just above them.

Above his waist, he wore nothing save a black leather band encircling one bicep. Pale brown nipples stood erect, his bare chest adorned with a faint scatter of freckles just below the delicate collarbones. Everything about him screamed sex. Walter stared at him, his eyes raking over the boy's smooth naked skin, his cock hard under his robe. Quickly, he glanced up and down the hall
and then grabbed the boy's arm, yanking him into the suite and slamming the door.

"What are you doing here dressed like that?" he snapped, giving the boy a firm shake. "Have you lost your mind?"

The boy shrugged, looking up at Walter through his eyelashes. "It's hot out," he said softly, his husky voice making Walter's cock ache.

"You walked through the *lobby* like that?" Walter asked incredulously. "How the hell did you get them to let you in?"

The boy shrugged again and looked down, managing somehow to look both guilty and demure at the same time. "Well, you know what they say," he purred. "A smile opens a thousand doors." He walked over to the table by the window, his round ass swaying fetchingly under the thin, straining fabric, and helped himself to a grape from the bowl of fruit. He leaned against the table, eating the grape, sliding it seductively into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Walter.

Walter flipped the television off, banishing it back into the depths of the cabinet. He put his head in his hands. Lord only knew what the hotel staff thought when they saw the boy walking through the lobby like that, even at three a.m.

"You look like a slut, Alex," Walter said matter-of-factly.

Alex took another grape from the bowl and held it to his lips. "I know," he said with a naughty grin, his eyes flickering down to the erection tenting the front of Walter's robe. They lingered there for a moment before rising, laughing, back to Walter's face.

"What are you doing here, Alex?" Walter asked, sitting down on the sofa. "It's a bit late for visiting."

Alex dropped his eyes and scuffed his toe lightly on the carpet, his hands clasped behind his back. "I just thought you might like some company," he said innocently, glancing quickly up to see if his shy routine was having the desired effect. From the way Walter's eyes were devouring him, Alex felt sure that it was. "But if you want me to leave..."

He started for the door.

"Oh no, you don't," Walter said, getting up quickly and grasping Alex's shoulders. He briskly marched Alex to the sofa and sat him down firmly. "You're not going back out there dressed like that. They'll think I ordered you out of the Yellow Pages."

Alex laughed delightedly, lounging back against the cushions, his legs spread shamelessly. "I *was* thinking about getting a summer job..."

Walter folded his arms, his stern glare and his raised eyebrow communicating just how much humor he found in that remark.

Alex bit his lip and blushed adorably, dropping his eyes again in that way that made him look like a little boy about to receive a well-deserved scolding. Walter couldn't take his eyes off him. He sat down in the chair across from Alex, leaning his elbows on his knees.

***

He'd met the boy five nights before in a club on Manhattan's Lower East side. The Furnace was one of the hottest gay clubs on the East Coast, and not just because of its name. Those lucky enough to make it past the imposing bouncers didn't soon forget the experience. The walls were painted lurid red and dripped with condensation as the heat rose, the mass of heaving, semi-naked
bodies on the dance floor sending the temperature inside skyrocketing, even in winter. Flame-colored lights licked and danced over them all, turning naked skin all the colors of a glorious, decadent Hell as the music thumped and beautiful boys danced in wrought-iron cages.

Walter had gone there his first night in New York, his well-tailored suit and obvious wealth assuring his entry into this dark paradise. He fought his way to the bar and ordered a drink. He spent a couple of hours at a table in the corner, watching the boys dance and fending off the advances of a couple of enterprising twinks who kept stealing glances at his expensive watch.

"You wanna take me home, don't you?" one of them screeched in his ear. Brent? Bret? Who could tell with this noise? Overgelled blond hair stood straight up over a too-eager smile. A hand pawed at Walter's chest, its owner confusing boldness with charm. "Come on, big Daddy. Don't you want a boy to play with?"

Walter politely but firmly divested himself of Brent-Bret and his friend, checking his wallet and watch as he did. He turned to leave, wondering how late the Plaza's heated pool was open, and suddenly froze in his tracks.

There was a boy dancing on the bar across the room. Walter stood dumbstruck, unable to tear his eyes away. The music seemed to speed up, to get louder, something that Walter wouldn't have thought possible. It was now a merciless wall of sound; everything - melody, lyrics - lost in a pulsating, thumping bass beat that shook Walter's ribcage, the sensation seeming to shoot straight
down to his cock. The boy on the bar whirled and danced, his arms stretched up over his head, his hips undulating, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Walter watched in awe as the boy moved to the music, his movements lithe and fluid, his eyes closed, lost to all but the music.

A crowd had gathered around him, hands reached up to touch him, but the boy danced away, a mocking smile on his face. He turned his back on them, dancing faster, the music seeming to flow through him. Walter's eyes were drawn to the tight pair of leather pants the boy wore. The leather looked buttery soft, well-worn, cupping the boy's utterly astonishing ass and displaying it tauntingly to the frustrated men surrounding him. One heavily muscled man in a leather vest shoved his way to the front of the crowd and beckoned to the boy. Walter watched, amused, as the boy shook his head, threw a teasing glance over one shoulder and danced further away, thrusting that delectable ass out before turning and surrendering himself to the music once more.

Walter stood alone in the writhing crowd, hearing nothing, seeing nothing but the beautiful demon who seemed to hold him in his sway. Slowly, hardly realizing his feet were moving, Walter moved closer to the bar, pushing his way through the crowd until he stood at the edge of the bar. Above him, the boy danced on, faster and faster, his bare skin glistening with sweat, a slave to the primitive driving beat of the music, master of all those who saw him, all those who stood in the dark with their eyes devouring his skin, his hair, his flashing eyes.

The boy turned, still dancing, his hips thrusting to the beat. Walter looked up at him. He did not scream or taunt or reach out his hands to touch him like the others. He merely watched, his eyes dark and soft, full of the beautiful creature who swayed before him.

Suddenly green eyes opened. They immediately met Walter's even gaze and widened in surprise, then lowered seductively. The boy danced a little closer, turning his back again, looking over his shoulder as his ass shifted and wriggled under the leather. Walter watched, mesmerized, as the boy moved closer still, almost close enough to touch. The boy was openly teasing him, the green
eyes never leaving him as the tight young body moved to the music. Finally, the song came to an end, the crowd erupting into applause as the boy finished his dance and stood, panting, sweat drying on his naked torso, accepting the adulation that was his due. Hoots and catcalls rose above the shouts, coarse words, obscene invitations and outright begging showered down around him as he stood, aloof and alone, a prince among the rabble.

Only Walter stood silently, just watching, a smile curling his lips. The boy caught his look and stared down at him, clear challenge sparkling in his emerald eyes. I dare you, that look said.

Challenge accepted.

Walter stepped forward, reached up and grabbed the boy, lifting him down from the bar and tossing him over his shoulder in one smooth motion. The crowd gasped and then broke into thunderous applause as Walter strode toward the door, his arm wrapped around two long, dangling legs, his other hand resting on a round, leather-clad bottom. The warm weight of his prize felt solid and good against Walter's shoulder, the boy's decidedly faint struggles making the victory all the more delicious.

Walter stepped outside, the rush of cool night air hitting him as the bouncers stepped out of his way, grinning. Walter breathed the fresh air in gratefully, shifted his burden and crossed the street to his rented Mercedes.

"You can put me down now," a faintly petulant voice said from somewhere in the vicinity of Walter's waist. Walter set the boy on his feet and leaned smugly against the car, his arms folded, waiting to see if the boy had the guts to follow through with the game. He smiled as he watched the boy try to collect himself, affecting a nonchalant air, but his cheeks were flushed and his
breathing just a little too fast. Walter glanced down and his smile widened into a grin. Nope, he thought. No hiding that full basket you've got there, little boy.

"What's your name, boy?" Walter asked, watching as the boy struggled mightily to appear unimpressed.

"Alex," the boy answered, his eyes traveling unashamedly up and down Walter's muscular frame. He gave the gleaming Mercedes an appreciative glance and arranged himself against it seductively, smirking at Walter. "You've got balls, mister. No one ever did that before."

"Maybe someone should have," Walter said amusedly, one eyebrow raised. "You really like dancing up there, don't you? Everyone looking at you?"

Alex grinned, that challenging look in his eyes again. "And you really like to watch me doing it, don't you?"

Walter grinned in spite of himself. This one was a spitfire, all right. Not like those other fawning, grasping twinks just out to put another notch in their bankbooks. No, this one was different.

"Yes," he said, his steady gaze pinning the boy. "I do. You looked good up there. But you'd look better in my bed."

Alex met Walter's gaze, his eyes twinkling with devilment. "Well," he purred, "what are we standing here for?"

They'd spent the night together in the big bed in Walter's hotel suite, Walter indulging the boy's frequent requests for Jacuzzis and room service, Alex indulging Walter's frequent requests to bury himself in that tight, hot ass, the boy writhing and moaning under him, so responsive, so beautiful. Walter had nipped a trail of love bites down Alex's flat stomach and into the soft dark hair below it, stroked that soft pale skin, fucked him senseless, slept for an hour and then woke up and did it all over again. The boy had slipped out in the morning, taking a pilfered bottle of champagne with him, leaving an exhausted Walter lying sated in the Plaza's sumptuous sheets.

Walter had intended to quit the boy after that night, to mark him down as an especially satisfying entry in a very crowded little black book. He often picked up a pretty young man when he was somewhere on business, and never the same one twice. Walter tried to put him out of his mind the next day as he rushed through a flurry of meetings, trying to make the most of his time in New York. But again and again, his mind wandered from the business at hand and back to dark hair, smooth pale skin and brilliant green eyes. That luscious ass, so open to him, so willing.

Walter had sent the boy home with a set of marks on one round cheek, having been so half-mad with passion that he had bitten into it like a ripe peach. Walter fidgeted in his chair - damned uncomfortable thing! - and crossed his legs, silently cursing his rebellious cock, which now wanted his full attention in the middle of a meeting. Walter smiled politely, hiding his discomfiture, but his mind went straight back to Alex. God, the noises he'd made! When Walter had entered him he had cried out, his whole body trembling, his moans and gasps filling the room as Walter thrust in and out of him.

Walter had cut his schedule short that day. He had to see Alex again.

It hadn't been difficult to find him. The crowd at The Furnace cheered Walter when he walked in. He caught more than one look of mingled envy and admiration as he headed for the bar. His money was no good that night, the bartender simply refilling his scotch and saying with a grin, "You tamed the green-eyed monster, man! You're a legend around here!"

Walter grinned and sipped his drink, looking around casually. "Green-eyed monster?" he asked.

The bartender leaned against the bar, ignoring two customers who were waving twenties and yelling for Heineken. "Yeah," he said with a grin. "That's what we all call him." The bartender laughed and shook his head. "He always comes in looking like the hottest fucking thing on two legs, dances all night, shakes his ass...but he never goes home with anyone."

"Never?" Walter asked, holding up his hand as the bartender reached for the whiskey bottle again.

"Nope," the bartender said, snatching the twenties from the persistent men and shoving two Heinekens at them. "I've never seen him leave here with anybody. Well," he paused and winked at Walter, "nobody but you. But I've heard things around."

"What sort of things?" Walter asked, leaning forward.

"Aw, you know," the bartender answered, whipping the bar rag off his shoulder and wiping down the bar. "People talk."

Walter held out his glass again, his gaze intense and curious. "On second thought, I'll have another."

That night, Alex danced just for him, his eyes never leaving Walter's face as the crowd roared around them. Walter stood watching, transfixed, as Alex swayed to the beat, the lights caressing his skin, the tight jeans he wore hugging every curve of his gorgeous young body, his tanned midriff peeking out beneath an abbreviated tank top.

Walter took Alex back to the Plaza again that night. Alex left the club this time on his own two feet, trailing behind Walter, smirking and blowing kisses to his frustrated admirers like the shameless little minx he was.

Walter fed him and bathed him, rubbing scented oil into every inch of his naked flesh, then fucked him through that big luxurious mattress. Alex gasped and screamed as Walter plowed into him, prompting Walter to press a hand over the boy's mouth lest the hotel staff come running to stop a murder in progress. Alex's eyes rolled up in his head and he came explosively, his hands fisting in the sheets. This time Walter wore the bite marks, in the palm of one hand. He kept looking at them the entire next day, rubbing them absently. Alex haunted him, wouldn't let him rest. He was like some gloriously intoxicating drug that kept Walter coming back for just a little more, one more taste... but one more was never enough.

Walter had gone back to The Furnace that third night, but the bartender met him with a shrug and a casual, "Haven't seen him in here tonight, buddy." Walter sipped his scotch and tried to look casual as he scanned the faces of the crowd, feeling ridiculous, like the world's oldest eighth-grader, stood up at the school dance.

He waited there for what felt like an eternity, the music pounding him like heavy surf, his eyes moving over the writhing bodies on the dance floor without really seeing them. They were young and they were beautiful, but none of them was Alex. One of the more aggressive twinks positioned himself directly in front of Walter in a blatant attempt at seduction, his glittering eyes never leaving Walter as he shook his bubble butt, encased in too-tight designer jeans. The twink frowned, his avaricious eyes narrowing as his best dance moves got no reaction. He spun and swayed, clumsily aping one far more graceful than he, and finally stopped, humiliated and frustrated, his fists clenched by his sides.

"What's the matter, big Daddy?" he snarled at Walter. "Lose your pretty little boytoy? He out fucking someone else?"

Walter tossed back the rest of his drink and turned his back on the twink. He walked toward the door, his silence and broad impassive back an intolerable humiliation for his would-be seducer.

"Fuck you!" the twink yelled, his eyes sparkling with tears of anger. "You think he's better than me?" He followed Walter toward the exit, screaming at the top of his lungs. "What's he got that I don't? That little slut! That whore! He's-"

The crowd gasped as Walter suddenly spun around, his eyes flashing with rage. The twink paled, his mouth snapping shut and his eyes growing wide with surprise. Walter glared at him as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out his billfold. He pulled out a crisp twenty and folded it in half. All eyes were on Walter as, with a controlled flick of the wrist, he threw the bill in the twink's face.

The twink's mouth fell open as he watched the bill flutter to the floor in front of him. He looked up at Walter incredulously, two bright spots of color on his cheeks.

"There," Walter said coldly. "Now you finally have something he doesn't."

He turned and walked away, leaving the shocked twink in his wake. Behind him, a chorus of "ooooohs" erupted as the other denizens of the club rejoiced in the twink's humiliation.

Walter spent the rest of that night in the Plaza's well-appointed gym, taking out his frustration on the heavy bag.

The next day was a Thursday. Walter only had one meeting scheduled that day, and a long business lunch with the vice-president of his New York office. Walter's watercress salad sat untouched on the fine gold-edged plate as the VP, a pleasant enough fellow named Granger, talked too much and smiled a bit too widely. Walter smiled and nodded politely in the appropriate places but didn't hear one word the man said. Finally, Walter cut the meeting short, offering a perfunctory excuse as he rose and pushed his chair back. He felt a pang of sympathy for the VP, who was now chalk white and stammering, obviously frantic at having apparently made some sort of faux pas. Walter took a deep breath, chased glowing green eyes out of his mind for just a moment.

That moment seemed to take all of his strength.

Walter smiled and reassured Granger with a hastily constructed tale of a sick cousin in the hospital and a limited amount of time in the city.

The man's relief was palpable. Walter shook the man's sweaty hand and walked quickly outside, startling the driver from the car service, who had been leaning against the Town Car's fender, reading the sports section. The man quickly settled his cap on his head and ran around to open the door for Walter. Walter settled into the leather seat and stared unseeing out of the window as the
car slowly merged into uptown traffic.

He spent the evening in his suite, sitting at the table by the window, his dinner untouched on the tray in front of him. Walter rested his chin on his hand, staring out as the city roared on around him. Millions of lives out there, people working and sleeping and fighting and fucking and...

Somewhere in that teeming mass of humanity was one raven-haired boy who was slowly driving Walter crazy.

Walter shook his head and laughed a little at himself. Jesus, Walt. What the hell is the matter with you? A few days ago you were a wealthy, successful giant of the business world, and now just look at you, staring moon-eyed out the window like some lovesick fool. He glanced at his uneaten dinner and stood up, tossing his napkin over the cold steak. He stalked into the bathroom, undressing as he went, tossing his clothes anywhere. He splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. You are ridiculous, he told himself, his eyes reproachful and hard. You've never lost your concentration in your life. Now you can't even sit through a two-hour meeting. Show you a tight ass and a pair of pretty green eyes and you lose your fucking mind.

He leaned against the sink and exhaled, closing his eyes. You've picked up countless pretty boys in countless towns, Walter, the nagging inner voice continued. Forget him. What makes this one different? What makes this one so special?

Walter opened the shower door and turned on the water. It splashed and danced over the tiles, mocking him, laughing at him, the answer floating up in a cloud of steam.

Everything.

***

Walter didn't tell himself he wouldn't go to The Furnace that night.

He knew better.

He strode through the crowd, ignoring the whispers and the pointed fingers. A few of the bolder patrons whistled and clapped as he walked by, congratulating him for his performance the night before.

The bartender gave him another shrug and a sympathetic look. "Haven't seen him."

Walter's heart sank. He nodded, his face burning at the look of pity in the younger man's eyes.

He thinks I'm a fool, Walter thought. And the nagging voice replied.

Aren't you?

He shook his head as the bartender reached for the bottle of Glenfiddich. He turned to go, then stopped. He turned back to the bar, motioning to the bartender, who had turned to take another customer's order. The bartender nodded and popped the top off a bottle of Corona, sliding it to the heavyset man who had ordered it. He slammed the cash register drawer and turned back to Walter.

"When I was in here last night," Walter said, leaning close so the bartender could hear him, "you were telling me..." He paused, hoping he didn't look as desperate as he sounded. "You said there were a few other places..."

The bartender hesitated a moment. He looked at the older man, at his expensive suit, at the watch that probably cost more than a bartender in a place like this would see in a year. At first, he'd figured this guy for just another wealthy chickenhawk, cruising the bars for an amiable young companion for the night. But there was something in the man's eyes that said that he was looking for more than just another piece of pretty ass. The bartender called down to the other end of the bar.

"Hey, Mike! Cover for me for a minute!"

The young man working the other end of the bar waved his assent and the bartender motioned to Walter to follow him. He led Walter behind the bar and down a short hallway to a metal door. They stepped out into the alley. The bartender reached into his pocket and fished out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. He held it out to Walter inquiringly. Walter shook his head.

The bartender lit his cigarette and exhaled, the plume of smoke rising in the cool night air. He looked at Walter and held out his hand.

"I'm Johnny, by the way."

Walter shook the man's hand. "Walter Skinner."

Johnny nodded, smoking in silence for a moment.

"He's been coming here for a few months," he said finally, tapping his ash on the pavement. "Ever since he finally turned twenty-one. Man, I can't count how many times I had to chase his little ass out of here for sneaking in underage." Johnny laughed and took another drag. "He came in the night of his birthday, flashing his new I.D. - a legal one this time - with the biggest grin on his face. Next thing I knew he was up on top of my bar shaking that ass. Jesus, I thought a riot was gonna break out."

Johnny smoked thoughtfully for another moment and then continued.

"I've been working here a long time and I've seen it all," he confided, blowing his smoke courteously away from Walter. "But I've never seen anybody work a room the way this kid does. I can't tell you how many times I've had to break up fights over him. I mean, this place ain't exactly conservative, know what I mean? But sometimes he comes in here showing so much skin, I'm ready to throw a blanket over him and haul his ass right back out, because I know somebody's gonna end up bleeding before the night's out."

Walter nodded, smiling a little. "He's something else, all right."

Johnny laughed. "Man, what you did the other night," he said, clapping Walter on the shoulder for emphasis, "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for someone to do that! I mean," he continued, leaning forward conspiratorially, "I like the kid. I really do. He's a sweetheart, and he can't help looking like that any more than birds can help singin'. But Jesus, he's killing me! The kid's a tease. He loves getting up there and driving them wild, but then he thinks he can just hop down and go looking for the next good time. He doesn't understand what he's doing to some of those guys." Johnny dropped his cigarette on the pavement and ground it with the toe of his shoe. He looked at Walter, his expression open and frank. "You wanna know what I think? I think he's heading for trouble."

Walter nodded. "I think you're right."

Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the brick wall behind him. "Some nights I spend more time trying to keep an eye on him than I do slinging drinks. I see them watching him, hear the things they say. I see that hungry look in their eyes, like they're fucking starving." Johnny
shrugged again and looked away. "I ought to throw him out of here and tell him not to come back, but I ain't got the heart. Besides, if he ain't shaking it here, he's shaking it someplace else."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Walter said. "Last night you said there are other clubs he goes to, other places he likes to hang out."

Johnny nodded. "Yeah. I don't know firsthand, but I know he doesn't come here every night. Some of the leather bars over on Christopher Street, I heard he goes there. Dirty Mick's, Newgate Prison, The Dungeon."

Walter blanched at the thought of Alex in a leather bar. Johnny caught Walter's look and nodded. "Exactly."

Walter shook Johnny's hand, pressing a folded hundred dollar bill into it. Johnny looked at it and grinned, but handed it back. "No thanks, man. I ain't lookin' for that. Look," he said earnestly, "if anybody had tried what you did the other night, I'd have kicked them across the fucking street. But there's something about you. You don't look at him like the others do, like some drooling dog lookin' at a plate of prime rib. There's something different about you."

Walter colored, unable to hide a smile as he stuffed the hundred back into his pocket.

"I mean it," Johnny continued, his hand on Walter's arm. "I've tried talking to the kid but it just goes in one ear and out the other. He's playing a dangerous game, Mr. Skinner. He's hot and he knows it. He loves the attention, loves knowing they all wanna be the one to take him home. But some of those guys, especially at Mick's and those other places...some of them might not ask
permission, you know what I mean?"

"Has anyone..." Walter began.

"Far as I know, not yet," Johnny said, opening the back door again. "But from what I hear, he's had some close calls." Johnny paused, giving Walter a serious look. "For a twinkie who's only been on the scene a short time, he's built up one hell of a reputation. Everyone in the scene knows who he is. It's getting to the point where it's like a competition between the guys to see which one can be the first to bring that puppy to heel. He needed what you did the other night. Needs more than that, if you ask me. I gotta tell you the truth, man...I was kinda hoping not to see him again."

Walter nodded. "Thanks, Johnny," he said quietly. "If I have anything to say about it, you won't."

*

Walter spent the next few hours searching the leather bars along Christopher Street. After a time, they all seemed the same, the industrial decor and flashing lights, the throbbing bass beat. Burly leather men, precocious young subs. Pretty young slave boys trailing along behind their Masters, thin leads attached to the collars around their necks. Walter walked through the crowds, his eyes scanning the faces of the dancers, impervious to the awed whispers of the young subs who trailed him, their eyes on his broad shoulders and muscular physique. When he turned on his heel and left without even a glance in their direction, their disappointed eyes followed him, comically similar pouts on their faces.

As the night wore on, Walter began to get discouraged. He had already been to most of the leather bars on Christopher Street and still no sign of Alex.

He walked into The Dungeon, a sinister-looking stone pile on a dark corner of the street, and at once knew he had found what he was looking for. The club was obviously not for the dilettante, as the curious looks being thrown Walter's way attested. He stood out, a stripe of grey Armani in a sea of black leather. The dance floor was directly ahead of him, roiling with a mass of mostly
naked bodies drenched in sweat. Long padded leather benches ran down both sides of the room. Pretty young subs knelt at the feet of their Masters. Here and there a boy was chained to the wall or draped over a muscular thigh, bucking under the kiss of a leather-covered paddle. Cries of pain and pleasure rose above the crashing tumult of the music, mingling with the crack of leather on bare skin.

Walter moved through the darkened room, his eyes moving quickly over every face he saw, then flickering away with disappointment. Just as they had at the other leather bars he'd visited, his path was frequently blocked by eager young subs looking for a strong hand. Their arousal quickly turned to confusion when he passed them by without a word. Walter noticed a crowd gathering at the far end of the dance floor, felt the tension building in the air, as palpable as the smell of leather and sweat. Men were shouting over the music, primal bellows of lust. Leather-gloved fists rose above the crowd, pumping the air. Walter moved toward them quickly, pushing through the crowd, finally breaking through the circle of muscular bodies.

He'd found Alex.

The boy danced alone, his eyes closed, oblivious to the madness around him. He wore nothing but a pair of leather pants - even tighter than the ones he'd worn the night Walter first saw him - and a pair of shiny black knee-high boots. He smiled as he moved to the music, his slim hips thrusting in time to the beat. Walter stared at him, his cock immediately growing full and hard. He silently cursed his body's Pavlovian reaction but could not take his eyes off the beautiful boy who danced before him, the lights flicking over his bare skin like a lover's tongue. Jesus, Walter thought. He might as well have "fuck me" tattooed on his forehead.

Alex danced on, loving the feel of their eyes on him, loving knowing that none of them could have him. He opened his eyes. Walter Skinner stood directly in front of him, unmoving, his expression unreadable. Alex's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. He winked at Walter and grinned. Damn him, Walter thought angrily. If he had whiskers he'd be licking the cream off them. As if he could read Walter's mind, Alex laughed and spun around, looking at Walter coquettishly over his shoulder. Walter's cock strained against the expensive fabric of his suit pants as his eyes traveled down that smooth graceful back to the...

Walter caught his breath, all the blood in his brain seeming to have migrated to his aching cock.

Alex's leather pants had cutouts, one on each round cheek. Alex danced closer, thrusting his ass out, his eyes twinkling with impish delight. Walter didn't have to guess what Alex wanted him, wanted everyone, to see. There they were, a faint but perfect set of bite marks on his plump, downy right cheek, framed in black leather. Alex threw his arms over his head and danced on,
shaking his hips, making sure everyone had a good look. He turned to face Walter again, pursing his lips and blowing him a kiss before he lost himself in the music again. Walter watched him, stunned by his beauty, all dark hair and white skin and fiery eyes.

Alex danced on, enjoying the attention, delighting in teasing the men who screamed for him, but all the time, his eyes were on Walter. The air was crackling with tension and testosterone as Alex drove the men around him crazy, shaking his ass shamelessly, teasing them, dancing away when anyone got too close. Walter felt a surge of jealousy rising up inside him. They roared their impotent rage, wanting to get at him, get inside him, make him theirs. Walter shook his head. What the boy was doing was dangerous...like dangling fresh meat in front of a pack of wolves. It was a situation that could easily get out of hand.

Walter took a step toward Alex, intending to put a stop to this little game before the boy got hurt. Alex laughed and danced away, giving Walter his best come-on-and-make-me smirk. He blew Walter another kiss and turned, feeling the air on his sweat-slicked skin, his nipples hard, his cock hard. He was fucking hot, unstoppable, untouchable. He felt a little frisson of pleasure as the DJ threw on his favorite song and turned the volume up even higher.

He didn't hear Walter's shout of warning as he moved back, right into the arms of the huge leather-clad man behind him.

"Hey!" Alex shouted, trying to twist away. The big man held him fast, one hand clutching a leather-framed cheek possessively.

"You need discipline, little boy," the man rumbled, pulling Alex close. "You're coming with me."

The crowd roared its approval. Cries of "Fucking cocktease!" and "Yeah! Teach that little slut a lesson, Rick!" rose up all around Walter. Walter tried to fight his way through to Alex but bodies blocked his path as the men strained to see the boy finally get his comeuppance.

"The fuck I am!" Alex retorted, kicking at the larger man. "Let me go!"

"Come on, little boy," the man growled, grabbing Alex's hair and yanking his head back, exposing his white throat. "You need to be taught a lesson."

"Fuck you!" Alex shouted, struggling harder. "Get off me!"

The man laughed and squeezed Alex's ass hard, then reached around and grabbed his crotch. "You like leather, boy?" he asked, his mouth close to Alex's ear. "I'm gonna give you plenty. Gonna strap your ass good. Then, if you're lucky, I'm gonna fuck that hot little ass of yours good and hard. Make you beg me for it."

"Fuck off!" Alex screamed, beginning to panic. He desperately scanned the eager faces around him, but none offered help. Their eyes glittered with excitement, every man among them rock-hard at the thought of seeing the little tease get what was coming to him.

"Say goodbye to your friends, slut," the leather man sneered, beginning to drag Alex toward the edge of the dance floor. "Next time they see you, you're gonna be wearing my collar."

"Let him go," Walter boomed, shoving the spectators aside.

Alex looked at his rescuer with frank relief as he hung from the man's muscular arms, the toes of his black boots barely scraping the floor. Walter tore off his suit jacket and threw it down. He crossed the floor and got right into the big man's face.

"I said let him go," Walter growled. "NOW."

"And just who the fuck-" was all Alex's would-be owner got out before Walter nailed him with a roundhouse punch to the face. The big man went down like a sack of cement. The crowd gasped and then roared its disapproval, their guttural shouts seeming to rattle the walls. Walter grabbed Alex by the wrist.

"We've got to get out of here," Walter said urgently. "I can't fight them all off."

Alex pulled away, trying unsuccessfully to pretend the incident hadn't rattled him, but his pallid face and wide eyes belied his fear. "I don't want to go," he said stubbornly, his voice shaking. "I haven't finished dancing yet."

"Oh yes, you have," Walter said firmly. He grabbed his suit jacket off the floor with one hand, wrapped the other hand firmly around Alex's wrist and towed the protesting boy through the club. Behind them the crowd screamed its rage. Walter heard glass breaking and moved faster, forcing Alex to stumble along behind him.

Finally, they reached the sidewalk, where Alex immediately began trying to pry himself free of Walter's grasp.

"Oh-KAY," he protested, trying to pull away. "We're outside now. You can let me go."

Walter said nothing, ignoring the boy's whines as he towed him the length of Christopher Street, provoking a smattering of applause and catcalls from other club denizens, gathered around doorways to escape the heat or grab a quick smoke. Walter kept going until he rounded the next corner, reaching the dark blue Mercedes, grateful to see that all four hubcaps were still present and accounted for. He let go of Alex's wrist and the boy immediately cradled it, pouting prettily.

"That caveman routine is getting pretty old," he sulked.

"You're welcome," Walter said acidly, giving Alex a look that clearly said he was out of patience. "You're damned lucky I was there, boy, or you'd be in a world of hurt right now."

Alex flushed and looked down, biting his lip. After a moment, he raised his eyes, looking at Walter through a forest of thick lashes. An old trick, to be sure, but Alex had found it to be devastatingly effective.

"Thank you," he breathed, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing his head just slightly, his body telegraphing sex and submission. "You saved me."

Walter fixed him with a stern glare and put his hands on his hips.

"You don't have an audience anymore, boy," he snapped. "So you can stop performing. You don't take this seriously at all, do you?"

Alex shrugged. Walter felt his anger rising and fought to keep control. Damn it all, but he wanted to take the boy and shake some sense into him!

"Alex," Walter tried again, patiently. "Do you have any idea how dangerous these little games of yours are? What could have happened to you just now?"

Alex looked at him blankly. "But it didn't," he said casually. "You slugged the creep. Everything's cool."

Walter stared at him, frustrated. He took a step toward Alex. "Alex, listen to me," he said, his voice low and serious. "You put yourself in a very dangerous situation just now. You have to stop this. Next time I might not be there to save you."

Alex fluttered his lashes at Walter, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "I was just dancing," he purred, his voice like honey.

"Damn it, boy!" Walter roared, making the boy jump. "Enough with the games! You can't keep going to these clubs half-naked, shoving your ass in these men's faces and expecting them not to react!"

Alex backed away, bright tears in his eyes. "You can't tell me what to do!" he shouted angrily. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Walter stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Alex-"

"I don't give a fuck what you say!" Alex shouted. "I can do whatever I want!"

"Alex," Walter said again. "Just listen to me. All I'm trying to-"

"Fuck this," Alex said, backing further away. "I don't need this. You're not my Daddy, Walter."

Walter stared at him for a moment.

"You're right, Alex," he said simply. "I'm not."

He got into his Mercedes and started it up, then drove away without a backward glance.

Alex stood alone on the street corner, watching him drive away, the taillights fading away in the distance.

*

"What are you doing here, Alex?" Walter said again. The boy sat across from him, arms spread along the back of the sofa, long legs apart. Walter could see the soft, taut skin of his inner thighs. With effort, he forced himself to look up again. Don't fall for it, Walter, he thought sternly to himself. Sea-green eyes met his and blinked slowly, seductively, long lashes sweeping over them like fans.

"I told you," Alex said with a pout. "I thought-"

"I know what you told me," Walter said gruffly. "Now I want the truth."

Alex pouted again, but stopped when he saw it wasn't getting him anywhere. He flushed and looked down, toying with the frayed hem of his cutoffs.

"I was lonely," he murmured, looking up at Walter through his lashes.

Walter raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, Alex, I find that difficult to believe."

The lower lip poked out again. Alex stood and walked over to Walter's chair. "It's true," he said softly. "I wanted to see you."

Walter said nothing, just watched as Alex settled himself on the arm of the chair and posed himself appealingly. He stroked Walter's arm lightly, fingers sliding over the lush fabric.

"I didn't go out tonight," he said, his eyes studying Walter's face for signs of approval. "I was really good."

"Alex," Walter said briskly, settling back in the chair, "it's none of my business where you go or what you do. I'm not your Daddy, remember?"

Alex stopped stroking Walter's arm.

"I know," he whispered, looking down. He glanced up quickly through his lashes. Walter's eyes were studying his face intently. Alex blushed prettily and continued, his voice uncharacteristically soft and timid. "I... I was thinking about what you said last night. I know you're not my Daddy but..." he trailed off, biting his lip.

"But?" Walter prompted.

Alex fidgeted a little, looking away. "I..."

"Alex," Walter said, more than a little impatiently. "Out with it. What are you trying to say?" He watched as the boy opened his mouth to speak and closed it, then stared down at his hands in his lap. Walter felt a surge of annoyance mingled with downright self-pity. Sooner or later, it always came to this. Well, if the boy was going to ask for money, let him get it over with! His billfold lay on the delicately carved table in the entryway. Walter looked at it, waiting for the inevitable; the pleading eyes, the heartrending tale of rent overdue, the car in need of repair, the sick relative in a far-flung town. At least once the boy had gotten what he'd come for, Walter could get a few hours of sleep before his flight. This time tomorrow he'd be home again, trying to forget soft hair and green eyes and the ache in his heart.

An impatient sound from Alex broke into his reverie. Walter turned back to his unexpected visitor and found the boy watching him with an amused look. Alex arched his back a little and trailed one hand along his thigh, luring Walter's eyes downward. Satisfied that he now had Walter's attention back where it belonged, he moved a little closer.

"What would it be like?" he said softly, hesitantly. "I mean...if you were my Daddy..."

"Alex-"

"Please," Alex said, looking down again contritely. "Don't be mad at me. I'm sorry for those things I said last night. I just...I just want..."

Walter caught the boy's chin and made him look up. Alex started a little but did not try to pull away. He looked into Walter's serious brown eyes and swallowed hard.

"What do you want?" Walter demanded.

Alex stared at Walter for a moment, seeming almost startled by the question. He ducked his head a little, a shy, disarming gesture. Slowly, his eyes rose to meet Walter's again. Alex held the older man's gaze as he slowly, deliberately mouthed Walter's index finger, sucking it gently. Walter slowly pulled his hand away, his eyes on Alex's glistening pink mouth, so hot, so wet. Alex smiled and leaned closer to Walter.

"You know what I want," Alex whispered, his breath hot on Walter's ear. "What I need."

Walter looked at Alex, exasperated. The boy was putting on an act for him, damn it! Fluttering those maddening eyelashes, poking out that plump bottom lip, angling himself so that the light played on his bare skin just so. Alex saw Walter looking and leaned into him, quickening his breathing so that he was practically panting.

"Please," he whimpered, arching his back, his erect nipples mere inches from Walter's face. "Don't make me beg, Daddy." The curtain of lashes dipped down again, then rose. Alex pouted prettily and slipped a hand into the front of Walter's robe, but stopped short when Walter grabbed his hand and placed it firmly in Alex's own lap.

"Like I said, Alex," Walter said firmly, "I am not your Daddy. That's the only thing we seemed to agree on last night."

Alex hesitated, but only for a moment. "But you could be, couldn't you?" he asked plaintively. "I need a Daddy so bad, Walter. I didn't mean what I said last night. Please let me make it up to you."

"I don't need you to make anything up to me, Alex," Walter said impatiently. "I just need you to listen. You can't just show up here in the middle of the night, wearing next to nothing-"

"Don't you like my outfit?" Alex asked with an especially winsome pout. "I wore it just for you."

Walter gave him a stern look. "I asked you to listen, Alex. Are you listening?"

Alex looked down. "Yes, sir," he said meekly.

Walter frowned at him, trying to ignore the way those two words sent a jolt right to his cock.. "Alex," he tried again, a little more patiently this time. "You can't just show up here at three o'clock in the morning and expect me to be your Daddy for half an hour. That sort of play isn't something you do on a whim. It's something you think about long and hard."

Alex smiled, glancing down toward Walter's obvious erection. "Long and hard," he repeated in a sensuous purr. "You want me. I can see how much you do." His hand stole downward, nimble fingers reaching toward the tented fabric.

Walter grabbed his hand and held it firmly. "Damn it, boy! There's more to it than that!" he snapped.

Alex looked at Walter, wounded, his eyes sparkling with tears. He looked down again at Walter's undeniable arousal, then down at his own near-naked body. He shook his head, frustrated. "Don't you want me?" he asked softly. "I thought..."

"Alex," Walter said, not unkindly. "Of course I want you. Everyone who sees you wants you. But this isn't just about sex. I don't think you understand what you're asking for."

"I do!" Alex protested, quickly moving from the arm of the chair and curling up in Walter's lap. He wrapped his arms around Walter's neck, his eyes scanning Walter's face pleadingly. "Please," he whispered, nuzzling his face against Walter's neck. "I've been so bad, Daddy. Let me be your boy."

Walter felt his arms wrapping around Alex almost of their own accord. He held the boy, felt the warmth and the weight of him, the delicious feeling of friction along his cock. Alex raised his head and looked up at him, his gaze open and wanting. Walter stared down into those bottomless green depths, at once desperate for him and frustrated beyond measure. How in the hell did the boy manage to look like the most fuckable creature in existence and at the same time as innocent as a newborn lamb?

"Please," Alex said again, his voice soft and husky. "I know I was awful last night. You came and saved me and I behaved like such an ungrateful brat." His hand stole into the front of Walter's robe again. "I'm sorry I was a bad boy," he breathed, toying with Walter's nipples, fingers skating lower, toward the nest of dark hair below. "Punish me, just don't be mad at me. Please, Daddy. I'll do anything."

Walter took a deep breath, still holding Alex's gaze intently. The boy was still laying it on thick, wriggling in his lap, pouting and batting those pretty eyelashes, anything to distract Walter from asking too many questions. Walter gripped Alex more tightly, grabbing the boy's roaming hand and holding it in place.

"Do you understand what you're asking?"

Alex stared up at him, his eyes wide, dark with arousal. "Yes," he whispered.

"I don't do anything by half-measures, boy," Walter growled, holding Alex's gaze firmly. "You'd better be sure."

Alex nodded vigorously, his eyes sparkling at the thought of getting what he wanted. He shifted position and straddled Walter, thrusting his hips forward. He ground against Walter's cock, delighting in the gasp he wrung from the older man. "Yes," Alex said, throwing his head back and running his hand over his own chest, tweaking his nipples, making them redden and stand out even
more. "Please," he moaned, "Be my Daddy, Walter. Give me what I need."

Walter watched Alex with grudging admiration. The boy was working him as hard as he worked the dance floor at The Dungeon. All right, boy, he thought. You want to play, we'll play. "Look at me," he ordered. Alex obeyed, dipping his head submissively and batting his eyelashes, playing the bad puppy to the hilt. "How do you think you should be punished?" Walter asked, his voice low
and commanding.

There was a pause and a sharp intake of breath as arousal ran through Alex's body like an electric current. He looked into Walter's eyes and licked his lips slowly, deliberately.

"Spank me." Two words, hardly more than a breath. Alex's eyes flickered downward in an apt approximation of remorse, then back up at Walter, twinkling with excitement and a hint of challenge. "Please."

Walter pulled the boy close and kissed him hard, plundering that gorgeous mouth, leaving him flushed and panting. "Is that what you came here for?" Walter asked gruffly, pinning Alex with his stern gaze. "You want me to spank you?"

Alex nodded, clinging to Walter. "Yes," he said, grinding his hips against Walter's, his own cock hard under the faded denim. "I've been a bad boy. Spank me hard, Daddy, please."

Without another word, Walter stood, swinging Alex up in his arms. Alex gasped and held on tightly as Walter carried him into the bedroom and dropped him onto the king-sized bed.

"Strip," he commanded, that one word crisp and inarguable.

Alex quickly obeyed. He made quick work of it, his crumpled cutoffs joining his boots and socks in a heap on the floor. He leaned back on his elbows, naked, his legs spread provocatively. He looked at Walter, his eyes alight with devilment despite his submissive pose.

"Are you going to spank me now?" he asked softly, one hand idly stroking his hard cock. Walter moved quickly, abruptly flipping Alex over onto his stomach and delivering a crisp smack to the boy's ass.

"Ow!" Alex yelped. He reached back and rubbed his reddened cheek, giving Walter a wounded look over his shoulder. "That hurt."

"Touch your cock again without permission and you can forget about sitting down anytime soon," Walter warned, playing the role of stern Top to the hilt. The boy responded exactly as Walter thought he would, getting up on his knees, still rubbing his sore bottom, pouting all the while. Alex's cock stood straight up, drops of moisture shining on the crown. He looked at Walter and dropped his eyes penitently.

"Yes, sir."

Walter looked at him, his eyes moving over Alex's body, so beautiful, so willing. Alex knelt there on the bed, trembling with excitement, his cock hard and aching.

"You're sure this is what you want?" Walter asked.

"Yes," Alex breathed, looking up at Walter. "I've never been spanked before," he said shyly. "It's my first time."

Walter folded his arms and leaned against the dresser. "I haven't known you very long, Alex, but I find that very difficult to believe."

Alex nodded sincerely. "You're my first." He looked down submissively. "I want it to be you." Walter stared at him for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the bed. Alex knelt beside him, waiting. "Use a hairbrush, Daddy, please," he breathed. "I've always wanted to get spanked with a hairbrush."

Walter looked at Alex, his eyebrow raised. "I seem to have forgotten to pack one."

Alex glanced up at Walter's bald head and blushed. "Oops," he giggled. "Sorry."

"Besides," Walter said sternly. "I decide how you get spanked and with what, young man. I don't need anything but my hand to make a certain naughty little boy think very hard about misbehaving again. Is that clear?"

Alex clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head, chewing his lip to keep from smiling with delight.

"Yes, sir."

"Then get over my knee," Walter said, his deep, authoritative voice sending delicious shivers up and down Alex's spine.

Alex scrambled to obey, arranging himself pleasingly over Walter's thighs, his bare bottom thrust out to be worshipped. "I'm ready," he said, quivering with anticipation.

Walter looked down at him, seeing the way the boy's back arched, the way his cheeks clenched and relaxed. The boy was drawing Walter's attention just where he wanted it. Walter caressed the firm mounds, eliciting gasps and moans of pleasure from Alex.

"You've been a very naughty boy, Alex," Walter growled. "Are you ready to take your punishment?"

"Yes, sir," Alex whimpered, clutching at the bedclothes. "I'm sorry I was bad."

"I hope you learn your lesson, boy," Walter said sternly. On his lap, Alex gasped and sighed and wriggled, thrusting against Walter's thighs. Walter spread his thighs wider and lifted Alex, rearranging him so that his cock fell into the space in between. Alex mewled in protest, earning himself a warning swat. "All right, Alex," Walter said, raising his hand again. "It's time you get what you've got coming."

He brought his hand down swiftly, leaving a red blotch on Alex's creamy right cheek. Alex cried out and wriggled again, panting through his open mouth. Walter held him firmly with one arm anchored around his waist and raised his hand again. It came down authoritatively on Alex's left cheek, the sound loud and crisp in the early morning quiet.

"Ow, Daddy," Alex pouted. "I'll be good, I promise..."

"We're just getting started, little boy," Walter promised, delivering another sharp smack to Alex's upturned ass.

"Oh!" Alex gasped, bucking under Walter's hand. "Yes, please..."

Walter spanked him with a steady rhythm, gradually turning his bottom pink and then red. Alex howled and babbled, his mouth open, his eyes closed, lost in his own fantasy.

"Are you going to be good, boy?" Walter demanded, targeting Alex's sit-spot with a volley of crisp whacks.

"Oh...yes, Daddy...yes..." Alex moaned, a light sheen of sweat across his back.

"Are you going to remember your lesson?" Walter asked, feeling the boy's firm flesh springing back under his hand.

"Yes! Yes, I swear!" Alex whimpered in ecstasy, his hands fisting in the bedclothes. "I'll remember, I promise!"

"Are you going to stop telling lies?" Walter asked, almost casually. He stilled his hand and waited.

The words took a moment to penetrate Alex's endorphin-fueled haze, as did the fact that the spanking had stopped. Alex lay very, very still. "I..." he stammered. "I didn't-"

"You said this was the first time you've ever been spanked," Walter continued, his tone conversational and light. "You said you wanted me to be your first."

Alex's eyes flew open wide. He tried to scramble off Walter's lap but found himself held firmly in place.

"I had a little talk with Johnny the bartender the other night," Walter said. "He told me a friend of his saw you getting paddled at The Dungeon last week." He walloped Alex's ass twice more, hard, making him yelp. He shoved the boy off his lap and stood up. Alex landed on his sore bottom, hissing as it made contact with the firm mattress.

Walter looked at him grimly, his arms folded. "You lied to me, Alex. All that sweet talk about your first time, about wanting me to be the one. You tried to play me for a fool."

"I-I'm sorry," Alex stammered, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean-"

"No, Alex," Walter said abruptly. "I'm sorry. Sorry I thought you were more than just another pretty little twink working an angle."

Alex sucked in his breath. "Walter?" he said, his voice quavering.

Walter turned his back on Alex and sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped.

"Just get dressed and go, Alex," he said tiredly. "I don't want to play any more. Go back to The Dungeon, find yourself a leather stud to act out your fantasies with."

"Walter, please-"

"Just go," Walter said, without turning around. "I have a flight leaving in a few hours and I'd like to get some sleep."

Alex was silent for a moment. Walter stared at the wall. He felt empty. He reached for the phone. Maybe he could get an earlier flight out, just get out of here and forget the last few days had ever happened.

Suddenly Alex was kneeling at his side, clinging to him, his head resting on Walter's thigh.

"I don't want to go," he whispered, his throat tight. "Please let me stay."

Walter looked down at him. "Alex-"

"Please," Alex said again, raising tear-filled eyes to Walter. "I'm sorry."

Walter made an exasperated sound and stood up. He walked over to the window and looked out at the city lights. "Bullshit," he said simply. He turned to look at Alex. "You've been running a game on me since you walked in that door. Do you really think I don't see what you're doing? You're trying to play me, Alex, just like you play those lust-crazed fools who crowd around to watch you dance. Is that what this is?" he asked, his voice rising. "Just bat your eyelashes and shove that pretty ass in my face and tell me what you think I want to hear, right?"

"No!" Alex shouted, blinking back tears. "It's not like that!"

Walter crossed the room quickly and pulled Alex to his feet. "That's exactly how it is, Alex!" he snapped. "You lied to me. You manipulated me. You used me to make a mockery out of something special, something that belongs between two people who love and trust one another."

Alex looked up at him, seeing the anger and pain in those brown eyes. He stared into them, his mouth falling open as he realized his mistake.

"Walter," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Go ahead," Walter said angrily. "Tell me you didn't come in here and throw yourself at me, knowing all the while exactly what you wanted and how to get it. Tell me you didn't lie to me. Tell me this isn't all just a joke to you."

Alex looked at Walter pleadingly, his eyes wet. "It's not, Walter," he said, his chin trembling. "Please believe me."

Walter stared at Alex, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why should I?" he asked simply, his voice rough.

Alex looked down, sniffling softly. "Because it's the truth," he whispered.

Walter folded his arms and looked down at the weeping boy, the narrow shoulders shaking, the head gracefully bowed. Was this the real Alex at last? Was the mask of the playful tease finally stripped away? Or was this just another act? "Alex," he said softly. "I can't be what you want."

Suddenly Walter's arms were full. "Yes, you can," Alex sobbed, burying his face in Walter's chest. "Be my Daddy, Walter, please."

Walter shook his head. "Alex, I don't play-"

"No!" Alex cried, clinging to the front of Walter's robe with both hands. "You want me, I know you do!" he sobbed. "You want to be my Daddy for real! That's why you're so angry at me!"

Walter held him, stunned. His heart, which only moments before had shuddered inside him at the thought of never seeing Alex again, now leapt, full of bright hope. Could the boy mean what he was saying? Walter's hands itched to bury themselves in Alex's sable hair and Walter let them, stroking it softly as Alex clung to him and cried.

"I don't want to play any more," Alex choked, turning streaming eyes up to Walter. "I need you, Walter. Please give me another chance."

"Alex," Walter said gently, wrapping his arms around the distraught boy, "What you're asking...it's a very serious thing. It's not something you rush into."

"Yes, sir," Alex said softly, hanging his head. "I know that now. I should have told you the truth. But I...I didn't think you'd..." he trailed off, swallowing hard.

"What?" Walter asked gently, cupping Alex's face in his hands and raising the boy's tear-stained face.

Alex tried to look away but Walter wouldn't let him.

"I didn't think you'd want me for real," he whispered brokenly. "Especially after last night."

"Alex," Walter said softly, pulling him close.

Alex's face crumpled. He wrapped his arms around Walter's neck and hung on for dear life. "Please want me, Walter," he whispered. "Let me be yours. I'm so sorry I lied. I thought you'd like it better if I never was before-"

"Alex," Walter said again, waiting until the boy raised his tear-stained face. He stroked Alex's damp cheek gently. "What happened in the past doesn't matter. You don't ever have to pretend with me."

Alex leaned into the touch, squeezing his eyes shut miserably. Tears leaked out through his thick lashes. "I'm sorry," he choked. "Please let me be your boy. No more games, I promise."

Walter held Alex for another moment, let him cry. Then he looked into the boy's eyes. "No more games?"

Alex shook his head forcefully. "No more games."

"No more lies?" Walter pressed.

Alex nodded quickly. "No more lies," he promised.

Walter's voice was soft as suede. "You want to be mine?"

Alex nodded, clinging to Walter again. "Please," he whispered. "Make me yours. Need to be yours."

Walter waited until Alex met his eyes again. "Do you understand what it means to be my boy?" he asked, his voice deep and rumbling.

Alex nodded again, his eyes clear and trusting. He spoke without hesitation. "Yes, sir."

Walter sat down on the edge of the bed again. He looked at Alex, making sure the words sank in.

"I don't really think you do," he said softly. "But by the time we're through here, you will."

"Yes, Walter," Alex whispered.

Walter looked at Alex, his expression solemn. "Trust is important in any relationship, Alex, but in a discipline relationship, it's absolutely essential. If you give yourself to me, you give yourself wholly and completely. You need to be able to trust me to decide what's best for you, for us both. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Walter," Alex answered quietly.

"Good," Walter said, smiling. "I need to be able to trust you, too," he continued, his expression growing serious again. "That's why it's so important that you're honest with me, no matter what. No more lies, no more games. That's what we said, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Alex said softly. "No more, I promise."

Walter sat silently for a moment, his eyes studying Alex's face. Alex stood still, waiting.

"This isn't a casual decision, Alex," Walter said quietly. "If you're my boy, you're *forever* my boy. That means when my plane leaves this morning, you're sitting right there beside me. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, Walter," Alex said, his eyes alight. "More than anything."

Walter had to smile at the sight of his eager boy. He wanted to take Alex in his arms, hold him tight, bury his face in that silky dark hair. But that would have to wait. They had unfinished business to settle first.

"Part of being my boy means accepting punishment when it's needed. Can you do that, Alex?" Walter asked.

"Yes, sir," Alex answered softly.

"Then put yourself back over my knee," Walter said. "We need to lay a few ground rules."

Walter's voice was stern but his deep brown eyes were telling Alex to trust him, to let Walter take care of him. Alex nodded and gulped a little, his backside clenching at the memory of those last two whacks. He slowly crawled into position and clung to the coverlet, his heart pounding, waiting nervously for what was to come.

"Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?" Walter asked one last time.

"Yes, sir," Alex said, his voice shaking a little. He squeezed his eyes shut and knew it was true. There was nowhere else on earth he wanted to be.

"All right," Walter said sternly. "I'm going to continue now, and I promise you, little boy, by the time I'm through, you are going to understand the difference between a lie and the truth."

Alex winced as the first slap landed hard on his right cheek.

"Ow," he whimpered. He squirmed under Walter's strong arm, his backside stinging mightily.

"I want you to remember this, Alex," Walter said, bringing his hand down hard on Alex's left cheek. "I don't want to have to spank you like this again."

"Ow!" Alex yelped again, his eyes filling with tears. The spanking had just begun and already he was very sure he agreed with Walter on that point. "Yes, sir!"

Walter began spanking Alex harder, filling the room with the sound of flesh on flesh. Alex bucked and twisted under Walter's hand, his ass beginning to throb.

"I'm sorry!" he whined, wincing as Walter's hand cracked down again. "Please, Daddy!"

"Why did you lie to me?" Walter demanded. "Why, Alex?"

"I thought you'd think it was hot!" Alex howled, beginning to kick.

"Oh, it will be," Walter said ominously, looking down at Alex's red bottom. "I don't like being manipulated." He landed several more hard spanks as Alex struggled.

"I...I didn't mean to.." Alex whined as Walter's hand cracked down across his tender ass again. "I'm sorry!"

"Settle down," Walter said firmly, bringing his hand down again. "We've got a long way to go."

Alex whimpered again and hung on as Walter proceeded to turn his already sore butt a deep, glowing crimson.

"Are you ever going to lie to me again, Alex?" Walter demanded, turning his attention to the tender tops of Alex's thighs.

"NO!" Alex yowled, trying to twist out of the way of Walter's unerring hand. "No more lies! I promise!"

"Are you sure?" Walter demanded, holding Alex firmly in place and raising his hand again. "No more games?"

"Yes, sir!" Alex shouted, meaning it sincerely. "No more games, I swear!"

"And as for the rest of the rules," Walter said, spanking Alex briskly. "From now on, you are not to go to the clubs alone. You go with me or not at all."

"Yes, sir. Ow!" Alex yelped again. "Not so hard, Daddy, please..."

"And while I'm on the subject," Walter said, his palm connecting with Alex's bottom crisply. "You have danced on your last bar, little boy. When we go out, you may dance as much as you like, but the moment you start putting on a show I am going to put you over my knee and spank you right there in front of everyone."

"Yes, Daddy," Alex sniffled miserably.

"And," Walter continued, alternating one sit spot and then the other, the crisp sound of his hand on Alex's bare butt ringing off the walls. "You are never 'EVER' going to go out in public dressed like that again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Alex wailed, hanging on for dear life as Walter brought the spanking to an eye-watering finale. "Never again, I promise!"

"Are you going to be good?" Walter asked, whacking Alex's hapless backside another half-dozen times. "Are you going to be a good boy so Daddy doesn't have to spank you?"

"Yes, sir!" Alex managed before bursting into tears. "Yes, Daddy, I promise!" He hid his face in his folded arms and bawled. He barely noticed that the spanking was over as Walter lifted him up and gathered him into his lap.

"It's all over now," Walter whispered, kissing a damp cheek. "All over and you're forgiven."

Alex clung to him like a limpet, sobbing out his heartbreak and loneliness and fear. "Sorry," he gasped. "Sorry-"

"Shhh," Walter replied, his voice deep and comforting. "Everything's all right, little boy."

He held Alex and let him cry, rocking him gently as the boy's sobs gradually gave way to hiccups. They sat there on the edge of the bed for a long time, Alex nestled in Walter's arms, the bond between them deepening. At last, Alex looked up, found Walter looking down at him, his dark eyes shining, full of love and acceptance. Alex smiled a little as Walter caressed his face, wiping away the last tears with his thumb.

"Are you okay?" Walter asked softly. Alex nodded, resting his head on Walter's shoulder. Walter rubbed circles on Alex's back, warming the skin. "We still have a few things to talk about, Alex," Walter said gently.

Alex looked up. "More rules?" he asked tentatively, biting his lip.

"No, Alex," Walter laughed, tugging him closer and wrapping him in a bear hug. "I think we've covered the rules thoroughly enough for now."

"I think so, too," Alex said sincerely, reaching back to rub his tender bottom.

Walter laughed again and dropped a kiss on the dark head, feeling the soft hair against his lips. "Alex," he said, his voice growing quiet and serious again, "I meant what I said about the flight, about you sitting beside me." He paused, suddenly afraid that Alex might be having second thoughts. He'd obviously enjoyed the fantasy of a Daddy/boy relationship, but would the reality
prove to be too much for him? He might decide that staying in New York was preferable to going home with Walter, especially if he had to sit on an airline pillow to get there. Walter looked into Alex's eyes, searching the emerald depths for any sign of fear or reluctance. "Are you sure you still want to come with me?"

Alex clung to Walter more tightly. "Yes, Walter," he said quietly. "I want to be with you."

Walter held him, felt him relax and settle, the warmth of him feeling good against Walter's chest. "What about your job?" Walter asked quietly. "You're okay with giving it up?"

Alex shrugged. "I can wait tables anywhere, Walter," he mumbled.

"What about school?" Walter pressed gently. "Are you in college?"

Alex ducked his head. "Doesn't matter how smart you are if you don't have the money to back it up," he said bitterly.

The resignation in Alex's voice made Walter's heart hurt. He looked down at the boy in his arms and felt the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams, of chances never given. Things will be different now, little boy, he thought.

"Where do you live?" Walter asked, rubbing Alex's shoulders soothingly. "We need to stop by there later to pack up your things."

Alex shrugged and mumbled something.

"What was that?" Walter asked.

Alex was silent for a moment. "I...I don't have anything worth taking," he said finally, his voice low. "I just sleep there."

"Alex," Walter said, a little more firmly. "We are going to get your things before we leave."

Alex hid his burning face. "Don't want you to see it," he said softly.

"Do you want another spanking so soon, little boy?" Walter rumbled.

Alex raised his head, his eyes wide. "N-no, sir."

"You don't ever have to be ashamed with me, Alex," Walter said, his voice thick with emotion. "You don't ever be afraid to show me your whole self, not just the parts you think I want to see."

Alex gulped and nodded, looking down as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "It's just a one room rathole in Brooklyn," he whispered. "The landlord probably won't even know I'm gone."

Walter put his arm around Alex's shoulders, pulled him closer. "There's no shame in not having money, Alex," he said gently. "The only shame is in having it and not doing some good with it."

Alex bit his lip, leaned into Walter's caress. "Yes, sir," he said softly.

Walter smoothed Alex's hair back out of his eyes. "What about family? Friends?" he asked. Alex shook his head. He slipped his arms around Walter's waist and held on tight. Walter looked down at him, his heart aching, Alex's simple gesture saying more than words ever could. He tilted Alex's face up and kissed him tenderly. "No more sadness, little boy," he whispered. "No more fear. I'm going to take care of you." He paused and kissed Alex again. "You're mine, Alex," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm your family now."

Alex caught his breath. His fingertips brushed Walter's cheek, lingering there. "Yours," he breathed.

"Yes," Walter said, capturing Alex's hand and pressing it to his lips. "My boy. Mine to love," he paused and kissed the tip of Alex's nose, "to spank," his hand settled on Alex's still-warm bottom and gave it a gentle squeeze, "and to spoil rotten," he finished with a grin.

"Love?" Alex whispered, his eyes huge.

"Love," Walter said, his own eyes shining. "I love you, Alex."

"I love you, Walter," Alex said softly, snuggling against him and sighing happily. "Your boy. Forever your boy."

Walter slipped out of his robe and lay back, gently pulling Alex with him, arranging him so that he was draped over Walter, his head on Walter's chest. Alex smiled sleepily as Walter pulled the sheets up over them, mindful of his boy's sore rear end.

"I'm going to call my secretary before we leave," Walter said quietly. "I want her to clear my schedule for next week. You and I are going to spend it touring college campuses."

Alex looked up, tears springing to his wide eyes. "I'm going to college?" he asked breathlessly. "You mean it, Walter? I'm really going?"

"You'd better believe it," Walter answered with a grin. "And I have a feeling you'll graduate with honors," he added, patting Alex's sheet-covered rump.

Alex laughed and rested his head on Walter's chest again. Fresh tears squeezed out beneath his lashes and dampened Walter's bare skin. "I never thought I'd..." Alex whispered, his throat tight. "Thank you so much, Daddy. I'll work hard, I promise. I'll make you proud of me."

"I know you will, little boy," Walter said quietly, ruffling his hair. "I know you will."

They lay like that for a long time, Walter idly toying with an errant lock of Alex's hair, Alex listening to Walter's heartbeat, strong and comforting in his ear.

Walter was nearly asleep when Alex raised his head, a familiar mischievous grin on his face.

"Spoil rotten?"



The End