A Boy Who Came in From the Cold

"Well guys and gals, the time has almost come. This is the penultimate chapter of A Boy Who...For Rayne, the time for vacillating has ended and the time to make a decision has arrived. (I just used the word 'time' three times in the last two sentences, didn't I? Time to get a new thesaurus, I think.) Will Rayne make the right choice? Will he ever be happy? Will anybody ultimately care? Sigh I hope so. "

xx.Sadie

"THE BOY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD" BELONGS TO SADIE ROSE AND IS POSTED WITH PERMISSION TO LITEROTICA. IF YOU WANT TO REPRODUCE IT THEN YOU SHOULD ASK PERMISSION. IF YOU DON'T ASK FIRST THEN DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED IF YOU GET YOUR ASS SUED!

*

4pm

Rayne opened his eyes, feeling tired and thirsty. His head ached and he was convinced that someone was watching him. In that respect he was not incorrect, but it was not Ant who still slumbered exhaustedly beside him on the bed, anaesthetised by their vigorous lovemaking earlier in the afternoon. Daniel Leland leaned casually in the doorway, observing him like an owl stalking an unwary mouse. The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Still early, they haven't left yet," Leland said in a soothing tone. "You 'are' leaving with them, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Rayne said cagily, avoiding his eyes. He glanced down at Ant and smiled sleepily. Suddenly their friendship was a comfortable thing, a safe haven in a storm of uncertainty. Okay, he did not get that swirling, falling feeling in his stomach when he looked at the blond man but he knew that Ant would probably never hurt him.

"You've got a nerve showing your face back here after everything you've done!" Leland said with quiet venom, calculated not to wake Ant up.

"Keep your beard on!" the boy retaliated at once. "We'll be out of your face tomorrow and you can carry on being a sanctimonious old shrew around people who give a fuck!"

Leland just folded his arms and stared down on the younger man disdainfully. If he was glad to hear this news it did not show in his face.

"My offer still stands, you know," he said grimly at last.

"What offer?" Rayne pulled himself to the edge of the bed, searching for his jeans. His muscles still ached from the vigorous workout Ant had so recently given him. He hunted down his shirt as well, pulling on his clothing, uncomfortable with the way that Leland looked at his body. The old pervert had barely touched him in all the time he had been out here but Rayne still bristled at the way Leland eyed him up.

"The offer I made you last time you messed me around," the film-maker reminded him succinctly. "You've cost me a lot of money, Rayne Wilde, but I'm prepared to stand by the arrangement if it means that you leave us alone. I'm an old fool. It would be easier to tell Terry to go ahead and kill you; 'lose' your body somewhere; but I don't need blood on my hands at my time of life."

He straightened and unfolded himself now, producing a long manila envelope from the folds of one of his omnipresent wraps. Thoughtfully he tapped one end against his knuckles as he watched the boy's face. Rayne's eyes moved to the packet at once, weighing it visually. He did not have to ask what was in it.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked now, refusing to acknowledge its presence for the time being. "I've never done a thing to you!"

"I don't hate you, Rayne," Leland told him impassively. "My feelings towards you are actually fairly ambivalent, but I love Anthony like a son and I warned you once before that I would not let you ruin his life." He leaned forward, tossing the envelope onto the bed negligently. "Three thousand pounds sterling," he said before Rayne could move or speak. "It's all I can spare. Spend it how you like. Fill your miserable veins with it if you wish but don't spend it here. And if you ever go near him again, I will forego my mortal soul and send Terence to break your neck."

Rayne just stared at him incredulously. He made no move to take the money.

"What about Ant?" he asked stubbornly.

"We will take care of him," Leland said in a cool tone.

"He 'loves' me!" Rayne protested, shaking his head. "How could you do this to him?"

Leland managed a half-strangled laugh. "He doesn't 'love' you! You flatter his ego, Rayne; a boy nearly half his age! He feels good when he's thrusting hard inside you but you'll drive him crazy with grief and you'll break his spirit. I won't allow that. I've watched you manipulate people and lie to them for your own selfish ends since the moment you arrived here. You've got McNamara wrapped around your little finger. Aldo risking his skin for you! His career depends on his looks. Do you even comprehend how much damage you did to him? I could not allow that to continue."

Rayne blinked, suddenly reminded of something Aldo had said when he came to the hospital that last time. He had mentioned that he had to go home, that it was not his choice but he had to go. Rayne had been too heavily sedated to question it then.

"You 'made' Arturo send him back to Naples?" he queried, his chest suddenly feeling tight and uncomfortable.

"He will be better off there. His family will care for him until Arturo can arrange for him to see a good surgeon," Leland said scathingly. "He was lucky. At least the scars were not on his face."

Rayne rose from the bed and snatched up the envelope, walking back towards him more purposefully now. Leland backed out into the corridor and Rayne followed him, eyes narrowed.

"If I believed you were grateful it would be something," the old man said bitterly. "But you don't actually care, do you? You're just waiting to see who will be the best for you, who will give you the most. Well the game is up, Rayne. I know what you're after and I want you gone from here before the morning. Take the money, take your things and go!"

"What the fuck do you know?" Rayne hissed at him, backing him up against the wall and glaring up at him malevolently.

"I know that you are using him," Leland retaliated, pointing back into the bedroom at the slumbering form of Ant on the bed. "You bribe him with your body and it means nothing to you, does it? Sex is easy for you! It's cheap currency!"

"You old bastard!" The boy's eyes were aflame now. He slapped the envelope viciously across Leland's face, then pushed it back into his hands. "Keep your fuckin' blood money, you old creep! I don't need it. Give it to 'him' if you care so much!"

He turned back to look almost ruefully at Anthony Wright, still sleeping in blissful ignorance on the bed they had so recently shared. For a little while during the afternoon he had allowed himself to believe that he could be good for Ant. They could keep each other warm on his little boat in Greenwich. Ant could make and fix things for people and he could write songs and play a few gigs. They would get by without being rich, making the most of whatever life dropped into their hands. Now he knew that he had been naïve. Ant was not just older; in his own way he was a lot smarter than that. Before three months were up Rayne would become restless and Ant would tire of being eternally understanding when he vanished for days on end and came home wrecked. Ant cared but would never entirely trust him again after the events of the last few weeks.

"I really don't want to hurt you, Rayne," Leland warned, quietly breaking into his reflections. "In spite of my reservations about you I doubt that you deserve to be ill-used but if that is what it takes to get rid of you I 'will' do it. Everyone knows what you did to poor David Barrington LeVay. I will not take the risk that one day someone finds Anthony in the same sorry state."

Rayne spun about so quickly that he almost tripped himself. The look of shock on his face was the most genuine expression he had worn for weeks.

"I had nothing to do with that!" he yelped.

In the bedroom, Ant groaned a little and rolled onto his back. Both men fell silent automatically, waiting for him to wake up. When he settled again, Rayne pushed Leland back down the corridor towards his own bedroom door.

"Touch me like that again and I 'will' make you regret it!" Leland warned as he extricated himself and walked unhindered into the cool, tidy, panelled room.

Rayne followed him and slammed the door behind them.

"Have you been telling people that I killed Baz?" he snarled, completely undeterred by the threat. "Did you tell Ant that?"

"I told him the truth," Leland said airily. "Your boyfriend was found dead, full of cocaine, in your company!" He glared back at the boy challenging him to deny this.

"He had a heart attack!" Rayne protested furiously. "And he wasn't my 'boyfriend' either!"

"You were in bed with him when he died, that's what I heard!" Leland sneered and Rayne itched to slap that smug look off his face. "Coked up to the eyeballs! You didn't even know what planet you were on, did you? I knew David well, Rayne. He was a bit flash but he wasn't an addict."

"That's what you think!" Rayne snorted vehemently. "I was fifteen years old! He was my agent. He introduced me to 'you', for fuck's sake! But I'd never even 'seen' coke until I met him, I swear it!"

"It still doesn't explain why he was dead for nearly 48 hours and you hadn't even called for an ambulance!" Leland snapped at him. "Deny that, if you dare!"

Rayne clenched his hands into small, impotent fists. He looked away for the first time since he had followed Leland into the room, his expression suddenly uncertain.

"You don't know what you're talking about, you mad old bastard!"

"Were you there or not?" Leland had a nasty little smile on his face and Rayne, seeing it, felt suddenly quite sick.

"Yes," he said at last in a smaller voice.

"High on cocaine and completely oblivious!" Leland sneered at him. "How touching!"

Rayne ground his teeth but he said nothing. He could not speak, not even to defend himself. The memories had been buried for a long time but they were surging back up now and he just felt ill. In that moment he wanted to get as far away from Daniel Leland and the movie industry as he possibly could. The sheer proximity made him feel dirty.

Leland took his hand now, matter of factly and put the envelope into it.

"Get your things and go," he said in a low, warning tone. "Now. Before he wakes up and you have to tell him the whole sorry story. And I 'will' make sure you do, Rayne!"

5pm

Phil Honeywell opened the door to his flat, naked, still blinking the sleep from his big blue eyes, but they widened conspicuously when Rayne pushed his way in, still wearing sunglasses in the darkness of the corridor, and dumped his bag and guitar case on the floor unceremoniously. The blond boy stared at him as he closed the door again, leaning against it in shock.

"I didn't think you wanted to talk to me," he ventured at last.

"I don't," Rayne Wilde said without looking at him. "But I need a favour."

"What sort of favour?" Phil was wary. "You don't want me to do anything illegal do you?"

Rayne just snorted quietly through his nostrils. He shook his head.

"I just need somewhere to... think for a while," he said finally.

"Okay," Phil whispered, biting his lip. "Shall I put the kettle on?"

"Have you got any vodka?" Rayne asked him, wandering out to the small, cramped balcony and leaning his hands against the railing, soaking up the kiss of the afternoon sunshine.

"I've got some gin," Phil ventured. "Will that do?"

"Yeah... whatever," Rayne turned back towards him. He pushed the shades up into his hair and rubbed his perspiring face wearily with both hands.

"Did someone hit you?" Phil wanted to know. He poured two large measures of Bombay Sapphire into a pair of tumblers and came to sit at the scarred, weather-beaten patio table across from the other boy.

Rayne shook his head, taking one of the glasses from him and emptying it at a draught. Phil topped him up again automatically. He watched Rayne swill the alcohol around in the glass for a moment before it went the way of the first measure.

"Daniel Leland just gave me three grand to get out of town," he said now, laughing humourlessly.

Phil whistled softly under his breath. He shook his head and raised his glass in a toast.

"Christ! I wish someone hated 'my' guts that much!"

For a moment, Rayne just stared back at him through the smoked glass, then he laughed suddenly, throwing his head back and giving in to the hysterical impulse. Phil watched him for a little while, then joined in tentatively. He poured them both more gin.

"I need to get pissed!" Rayne told him approvingly as he took another slug. "God, I hate gin though!"

The blond lad emptied his own glass. Emboldened by the alcohol he asked; "Can I suck your cock?"

Rayne pushed back the sunglasses briefly and squinted at him in the golden haze of late afternoon. A crooked smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah," he said at last. "Why not?"

They tumbled onto the bed, back inside the tiny apartment and Rayne sprawled languidly on his back whilst Phil unzipped his jeans and gave him a vigorous hand job to get him started. The naked blond used both hands on him, cupping and tugging on his balls with one whilst he fisted Rayne's stiffening shaft with the other, rubbing his thumb pad back and forth across the leaking slit. Rayne unbuttoned his shirt then slumped back on the rough, red, woollen blanket, dark hair spilling softly around his pale, exhausted face. He uttered a low moan of pleasure as Phil bent over him and took the swollen, purple head into his mouth, licking and suckling gently on him.

"That old bastard hates my guts!" he huffed quietly as Phil nodded slowly over his erect cock. "He really, really hates me. He'd do anything to get me out of his nice tidy life, can you believe that?"

Rayne caught his breath as Phil's lapping tongue swirled around the underside of his erection, teasing and tickling his cock.

"You can stay with me, if you want," he said, with his mouth full. "I don't hate you."

"Don't talk," Rayne told him, stroking his fine, fair hair almost fondly. "Just blow me, Phil. Suck me off!"

The other lad seemed to have no objections to that for he swallowed Rayne deeper and nodded more energetically up and down his slippery shaft. He gagged slightly as the pulsing mushroom dome pushed against the back of his throat but gulped it down valiantly in the end. Rayne quivered with anticipation, urging his hips up off the bed and resting both hands on the back of Phil's head as he fucked the blond boy's tight pharynx, concentrating on the feel of another man's lips and mouth around his aching boner. Phil's deft fingers rolled his balls and he eased the other hand under Rayne's bucking hips and rubbed enticingly between his cheeks as he gulped and nodded. He drooled a little streamlet of saliva and pre-cum, which ran stickily down between Rayne's legs lubing his crack enough for Phil to push two searching fingers up into him.

"Aaahhhhh!" Rayne exhaled, arching up off the bed as Phil began to finger him slowly. He bucked and wriggled like a beached fish and as Phil's fingertips skated over the sensitive prostate gland, he exploded into the boy's mouth with a long, low cry of need and satisfaction.

"Ohhhhhhh... Phil! Yeah!" he panted at last, pulling the blond up into his arms and rolling onto him.

Phil's mouth was sticky and cum-filled as he French-kissed Rayne willingly. One hand was already pumping his own small, stiff cock. Rayne took over, wanking him rapidly as they exchanged spit and semen. The pair of them squirmed around on the bed for another ten minutes or so, groping and masturbating one another. When Phil was unbearably hard and needy, Rayne scrambled to his hands and knees and climbed off him.

"What are you doing?" Phil whimpered, reaching up for him.

"Come with me, it'll be fun," Rayne grinned at him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. "You're an exhibitionist, aren't you?"

He towed Phil back to the balcony and made him stand facing the alleyway below. It was not as busy as it could be at night or in the height of the afternoon but there were still a few people about. Rayne knelt behind him and parted his tanned cheeks, nuzzling and licking his smoothly waxed crack and teasing the boy's puckered pink arsehole with his tongue. Phil keened and wriggled delightedly as Rayne fingered and tongued his rectum. Across the street there were two slightly older guys who had been staying in the apartment opposite for just over a week. They were transfixed now by the sight of the pretty blond kid across the way putting on a real show for them. Their balcony was a little higher so they could see everything. When Rayne had given Phil's arse a good wet tongue-fucking he rose and let the blond lad masturbate while he pulled on his mate's erect nipples and fingered his anus.

Phil was soon unbearably excited again and Rayne turned him firmly, urging him down onto his knees so that he could take it in his mouth again. This time he fucked Phil's mouth and throat vigorously, holding him by the hair as he bucked his crotch in the blond's face. The two men had been joined by a third watcher on a slightly higher balcony. This guy was beating his meat openly as he stared at them. Rayne drew Phil to his feet again, kissing him gratefully and lifting him onto the edge of the table. Phil lay back at once so that the flimsy structure did not capsize, spreading his slender legs willingly. He was like some fine, gauzy insect marooned on its back. Rayne gripped his hard, spittle-slippery cock and eased it in and out of his snug, well-tongued ring a couple of times before bending over him and gripping the far side of the table to pull himself slowly right into Phil. His little blond lover squealed with excitement as he was entered and fucked in front of his randy audience. He wrapped his legs around Rayne's hips as the dark-haired boy began to pulse harder and faster.

Up on the opposite balcony the initial pair of voyeurs was also now engaged in vigorous anal copulation in full view of the street and several other balconies. The man above them wanked himself to a climax over the edge of his veranda and carried on pumping his cock as he watched the two gay couples fucking hard beneath him.

Phil yelped again and Rayne felt him contract fiercely as he shot a hard jet of cum against his bared belly and chest. He leaned back pulling slowly out of Phil's clenching, spasming anus and fisted his cock for a few seconds more until he returned the favour, spilling his hot jism over Phil's stomach and crotch. Finally he bent over the blond and licked the cooling semen off his naked body.

"That was good. I need one more favour though," he said huskily now, kissing Phil's neck and throat and feeling the other boy shiver at his touch.

"Anything!" Phil sighed delightedly.

"I want you to grease up and fist me hard for about five minutes," Rayne whispered, nuzzling him seductively.

"Are you sure?" Phil gazed at him for the first time since they had begun to couple on the balcony. From the look in his eye he already doubted Rayne's sanity.

"I'm sure..." his friend soothed. "I'm going to see Paddy in a few minutes. I need to be ready for him."

Phil blushed at the mention of Paddy McNamara. He harboured the most enormous crush on the Irish porn star and was deeply envious of Rayne's intimate relationship with the man. For the first time Rayne experienced a little ripple of pride. He was close to a man half the gay world desired. It left him feeling warm inside and intensely aroused.

When Phil eased him down over the table he closed his eyes, shutting out the voyeurs who had doubled in number since they began to play. Phil drizzled warm massage oil down the valley between his firm, pale cheeks and rubbed it into his ring with two fingers. He got them deep inside with ease, then withdrew and began again with three, spreading and stretching as the men across the way watched eagerly. Rayne's cock rose against the underside of the table top as Phil frigged his slippery chute more energetically. He moaned a little as the fourth finger entered him. Phil was rubbing his thumb in slow circles on Rayne's scrotum as he eased the rest of his hand deeper. Rayne gripped the edge of the table tightly and bucked as he felt his partner go deeper than before. With two and three fingers the third knuckle formed a natural brake, stopping him from penetrating any further. Now Phil could get his hand inside Rayne up to the joint of his thumb. The wriggling fingers probed more deeply inside him and he worked it in and out experimentally, huffing almost as hard as Rayne.