Author's Website: http://www.ravenswing.com/bas/

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: Thanks to Mia and Laura Jacquez Valentine for the beta reads.

Story Notes:

He follows the man into the alley. The man is dark-skinned, thirtyish, good-looking in jeans, and doesn't resemble anyone he knows. "You sure about this? My place isn't too far away," the man says.

"This is fine." He doesn't want to go home with the man. He comes closer, picks up the man's hand, licks the palm. The man's fingers twitch and the man leans in, brushing his nose against the black cotton T-shirt.

"You smell good," the man says.

"That would be the neat's foot oil." He kneels and opens the man's jeans.

"That like patchouli?" The man laughs breathlessly; he isn't wearing underwear.

He doesn't answer, just leans forward and takes the man's penis into his mouth. The man groans and grabs his head, combing his fingers through his hair.

He sucks, licks, sucks harder; the man is cut so his tongue must do the work of a foreskin. He slips two fingers into the space between the man's legs and presses on his prostate, curls his tongue and the man comes. Quick--but it's all he needs and all the man wants.

He spits. The man sighs above him. "Great mouth...you know, I didn't think you had a cocksucking mouth until I saw you lick your lips, and then it's all I could think about..." The man blinks and looks down. "Hey--you didn't use a rubber."

"No."

"Honey, are you crazy?"

"More than likely." He smiles, and he knows it's not an entirely comforting smile; he's been informed of its manic edge on more than one occasion.

He hears an approaching siren--in fact, he's been listening to it for some forty-five seconds, but he specifically hears it turn down the block. He turns his head and watches the mouth of the alley. He catches the flicker of the man's hands in the corner of his eye as the man zips up, but he knows how thoroughly incriminating his position looks, and he waits for the police car to stop and the officer to arrest them and the destruction of his life to begin--

--but the car passes by, and he stands up, feeling faintly disappointed.

The man touches his shoulder. "Hey. You shouldn't be doing this without a condom. You really have to play it a little safer."

"I'm afraid I've never had the talent for that."

He turns away and heads toward the mouth of the alley. The man follows and they head in seperate directions. His knees are wet from the water and muck of the alley, and he feels naked, exposed, transparent to the world. His entire secret self is shown in the blotches on his knees.

This is the feeling he craves, this filthy, ecstatic, wild sensation. This feeling of being someone else, someone wilder and freer.

It lasts two blocks before dissipating, leaving only the smell of cigarette smoke in his clothes and the taste of semen on his tongue. He rounds a corner and finds Diefenbaker waiting impatiently beside his hat. Dief looks at his knees and sneezes disdainfully.

"Noted," he says, picking up his hat, "but I have never involved myself over-much in your private life, and you can damned well stay out of mine."

Dief gives him an irritated glare. He places the hat on his head.

He licks his lips and hails a cab.

the end.