"How's the babysitting going?"

Paul looked down at Mitch, who was sprawled half under him, his lithe arms stretched over his head and his hair jostled on the pillow. He looked like an angel swallowed in oversized quilts. "It's going fine. So, what's up?"

"Me and the boys were thinking we'd head over in a few hours."

That got his attention. "You what?" He sat up, "Why?"

"We were bored, thought maybe we'd have a party tonight. I know Richard's gone, but..."

"That's precisely the point, Louis, Richard isn't here." He heard Mitch gasp next to him and put his hand on the boy's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'm not throwing any parties while Richard's gone."

Louis chuckled nervously on the other end of the phone. "What's wrong, Paul?"

Shoving the quilts off him, he stormed out the door, flinching as his feet sank into the soft snow and the harsh light bettered his eyes. It must be nearing on noon. "I'll tell you what's wrong, Louis. He's fifteen and Richard may have been okay with that, but I'm not."

"Paul..."

"No. I'm not letting you touch him while I'm in charge."

"Listen, I know what you're thinking, but what does it matter? We aren't going to do anything we haven't before."

He closed his eyes in restraint, just managing to reign in his anger. "Don't you get it, Louis? You keep using the kid without realizing that that's what it is, using. He has to go home eventually and he has to take all this back with him. I'm not giving him anymore nightmares to live with."

Louis was quiet on the other end for several moments and Paul thought perhaps he had finally gotten through to him. Then, "Paul, Richard can't take him home."

Paul felt his body temperature drop several degrees, making him numb with the implication. "What?"

"Come on, Paul, think about this. It would have gotten out by now."

"What would have gotten out?"

"Never mind. Look, if you don't want us coming over, we won't, but if you decide you need company give me a ring."

Before Paul could say anything, Louis ended the call. Damnit!

*****

Mitch had woken up to the sound of Paul's phone going off. Louis's voice. He knew why Louis was calling, but forced himself to pretend to be asleep, hoping Paul would sleep through it. Would they come over if they couldn't get a hold of him? However, luck was not on his side and he felt Paul reach over him, taking the phone off the bedside table and answering it briskly.

He tried to tell himself that Paul had said he wouldn't let them come over, but what if they were persistent? As far as Mitch could tell, Richard's hold on Paul only extended to Richard himself, but what if he was wrong?

"That's precisely the point, Louis, Richard isn't here."

Mitch couldn't help but gasp, Paul sounded angry. Could he mean what Mitch thought he meant? A hand rested on his shoulder and he opened his eyes, watching Paul's sneering face with wonder. He did, he was telling Louis they couldn't come over. Suddenly, Paul threw the quilts off and stormed out the door, without bothering to put on a shirt or a pair of shoes. Mitch knew it was snowing, it must be freezing outside.

Getting up lazily, Mitch went into the bathroom and turned the water on just hotter than he could comfortably stand. Getting under the spray, he gritted his teeth and began scrubbing his skin with a hard sponge that Richard had bought for him. He looked at the sponge, while his skin reddened under the hot water. Another month of this. Another month of taking fruitless showers, because they were never going to really get him clean. Another month of sitting in bed, watching television and eating junk food. Well, okay, not so much junk food, because Paul was bringing him real meals, but still...

Mitch looked down at his ribs bemoaningly. He'd just started working out a few weeks before Richard took him and his abdomen had started to tone up, even his legs had shown some definition. Now, all that hard work was gone. Not to say he was fat, or that he'd even gained any weight, if anything, he'd lost it, but that was only because he couldn't keep anything down. Or, at least, he hadn't been able to until Paul had started taking care of him. Now he thought he might have gained a pound or two and he wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

The door opened and he closed his eyes, grabbing the shampoo bottle and lathering his hair. He wasn't sure why the way he looked suddenly bothered him now. For the past few months he had been content to ignore his physical shape in lieu of trying to simply deal with the reality of his situation, but something about being there with Paul, being alone there with Paul, made him self-conscience.

Was there really any reason to be self-conscious, though? Paul seemed to like having sex with men, but that was only ever with Richard or when he was high. What if Paul was straight? Mitch knew only a fraction of how far Richard's control over Paul went, so what if it extended to his sexuality, as well? Cynthia. Cynthia had called Paul last night, which meant he had given her his number, and, more importantly, Paul had gone to her. Did that mean Paul liked Cynthia?

He stood there for several minutes, letting the steaming water wash over him, before he reached over and turned the faucet off. The mirror was completely fogged over, which was fine with him, because he didn't really want to see himself anyway. His hair had grown since he'd gotten there. It used to hang just below his ear, now it was nearly long enough to cup his jaw. Hm, what would his parents think of that?

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went into the room to get his clothes. Paul was sitting at the desk, his head in his hands. He looked up at Mitch and smiled, "Hey, kid."

There was that word again. Kid. He'd noticed in the last few days that Paul really did think of him as a kid, but then Mitch supposed he really was as far as physical age was concerned. He hadn't filled out like Paul or Richard, he was still awkwardly skinny, even when he'd been home, eating his weight in food twice a day.

Kneeling in front of the open closet, he sifted through the laundry basket of his clean clothes. Finally, he settled on a pair of black sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt. Richard had tried to convince him to get message t-shirts, but he wasn't wearing them outside of this room and it wasn't like he had anyone to impress, anyway.

"Mitch, you okay?"

He looked over at Paul sharply, but saw only concern. "Yeah, I'm fine. Still waking up, is all." It wasn't Paul's fault that he saw Mitch was a kid, the man was only trying to do what he thought was right. The problem was that what Paul thought was right was clashing terribly with what Mitch thought was right. Paul wanted to do the honorable thing and not touch Mitch, but Mitch wanted nothing more than for Paul to touch him.

"You want to watch television?"

Mitch turned his back to Paul and dropped the towel, pulling the sweats and shirt on slowly to give Paul enough time to watch. "I don't think I'm up for television right now. Maybe we could just sit here and read or something?"

After a moment, Paul nodded, but the concern hadn't left his slightly creased eyebrows. It wasn't that Mitch wanted to worry Paul, but he was sick to death of television, even if it meant he missed a chance to cuddle with Paul. Two hours passed with Paul sitting at the desk, surfing the internet and Mitch laying on the bed reading Interview with a Vampire. His parents had said it was too violent for him, so they'd never let him read it, but Richard didn't have any such reservations.

His vision started to blur and he sat up on the bed, pressing his hands over his eyes. Fuck, he was tired and he'd only been awake for a little while. Paul saw Mitch sit up out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at him. "You okay?"

Mitch shrugged, "I don't think I can read anymore."

The lower part of Paul's stomach clenched pleasantly at the site of Mitch's slightly rumpled hair, his lips pushed forward in a fetching pout. "What do you want to do?"

"Sleep?"

Getting up from the computer, Paul sat on the bed next to Mitch, "It's the middle of the day, you can't go to sleep right now. How about we watch something?" Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the remote and turned on the television, flicking through the channels. He tried to ignore the fact that Mitch was intently watching him, party because it was disconcerting, but mostly because he knew what he'd see in the boy's eyes if he looked back.

"Are you sleeping with Cyn?"

Okay, maybe he hadn't known. Looking over, he saw Mitch chewing the left corner of his lower lip expectantly. "I... Well... that is to say, we slept together once, but that was a few weeks ago."

He stopped chewing his lip for a moment, only to start in on the right side. "Right. Do you like her?"

Paul thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what he should say. He did like her, but he didn't think he liked her like that. Although, to be honest, the way he felt about her was different than anything he had ever felt for a girl. It could be just friendship, or it could be more, but right now, he couldn't afford to analyze it. When Mitch went home, Paul was going to cut off contact with them both. He decided to stick to the truth, or at least part of it.

"We're just friends, Mitch, nothing more. I won't let her..."

He was interrupted by Mitch lunging forward and pressing his mouth to Paul's, kissing him with a clumsy kind of determination that was far more erotic that it had any right being. He wanted to push Mitch away, but the truth was he wanted to kiss him back more and his better senses were not winning out. Before he could stop himself, his hand was on the back of Mitch's head and he found himself pushing Mitch, not away, but onto his back so that he could lay over him and press their bodies together.

Mitch parted his legs without hesitation and Paul could feel the familiar press of a half hard cock against his hips as he settled between them. God, this was wrong. Mitch moaned into his mouth as Paul slipped his tongue between the eagerly opening lips and the small body arched against his. Fifteen, he's fifteen years old. He ran a hand down Mitch's side, and slipped it under his shirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin. Mitch whimpered and there was no mistaking that particular sound for anything other than pleased.

Sliding his hand up the boy's bare abdomen, he moved to pinch one of Mitch's nipples and felt his fingers brush against something small and metal. He stopped breathing, stopped kissing, stopped all movement except the careful examination of what felt like a piercing, but that couldn't be right, because Mitch hadn't had any piercings the last time he'd seen him naked... which was before the bloody tongue ring.

Pulling back, he ignored Mitch's little noises of frustration and pushed the shirt up, revealing the little round loop hanging from Mitch's chest. A little oval ball of green sat at the bottom of it and inside of that, Paul could see a little grain of rice. He was terrified of what it might say. How much could they fit on one of those things - was ‘property of Richard' too much?

He leaned down and lifted it with his finger, looking at the engraved wording. ‘Mitchell-dear.' God, that was almost as bad, worse maybe, because at least ‘property of' would have been ownership, this was just some sick, subtle reminder that no one else would understand.

Mitch moved away, pulling the little ring out of Paul's slack grip and pushed his shirt back down over his chest. "I'm sorry... I didn't... Richard..."

Paul looked up at Mitch and something inside of him melted. Mitch's lip was quivering just slightly and his eyes were brighter than normal. He was on the verge of crying, which he hadn't done since Richard first left. Paul pulled Mitch to him and held him, "No, Mitch, I'm not mad at you. I'm not. It's Richard, okay? He's never been like this before, he's never hit his boys, or pierced them, or... god, I'm so sorry, Mitch."

Mitch's breath hitched, "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything."

That was exactly the problem, he hadn't done anything. He should have tried harder at Humps to convince Richard to move onto someone else. He should have grabbed the kid and taken him home before that first party. He should have done a thousand things, but he'd done nothing.

It would have gotten out by now.

He couldn't think about that right now, if he did, he'd do something stupid, like take the kid home. Shutting off what he was quickly coming to realize was the rational part of his mind, he pushed Mitch away from him, looking at the reddened eyes and smiled playfully, "I guess Cynthia was right, you do have delicate emotions."

Mitch sniffed deeply and straightened himself, rubbing the tears roughly off his cheek, "I do not."

Paul chuckled, "Better?"

"Yeah." Mitch gave a ghost of a smile. "Hey, Paul?"

"Hm?"

"Can we... keep going?" When Paul didn't immediately answer, Mitch started talking quickly, tripping over his words. "I know... I mean, I get that I'm a kid and that I'm... used and that isn't the most attractive thing, but, I like you, at least, I think I do... no, I do, but it's hard to think properly about anything in here. I..." He faltered and looked down at his knees before looking back at Paul, "I want to."

Paul couldn't even begin to formulate a thought around that. Mitch was asking to have sex with him? He wanted to? "You want to?"

The kid's cheeks went bright pink, but he didn't look away. "Yes, I want to. You said..." he bit his lip before continuing, "you said that it was about trust and that I had to trust the person I was with. Well, I trust you. You've never hurt me. You don't like what they're doing and, yeah, you won't let me go, but at least you aren't throwing me at them like... like I'm a toy. I just... I need to know that it isn't always like that. I want to know what it would be like with someone... someone like you."

He trailed off and Paul was at a complete loss for words. Mitch trusted him? How the bloody hell could the kid trust any of them after everything he'd been through? It was unfathomable, it was absurd and what made it worse was that Paul was sure it was the truth. Mitch did trust him and he did want to have sex with him, but Paul had said he'd make sure the kid wasn't raped while he was there and wasn't that what this would be if he went through with it? Oh, he had no doubt that Mitch would see it as consensual, but there really weren't any other options opened to him at the moment, were there?

Mitch shifted on the bed, "If you don't want to, just say so."

Damnit. He reached forward and cupped Mitch's jaw in his hand, careful not to grip it and he studied the boy's face for any kind of hesitation, anything that would indicate he wasn't absolutely sure. There was nothing there besides hope and didn't Mitch need something to hope for?

With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mitch's in a soft kiss. Mitch closed his eyes and relaxed into it, relieved. Paul's tongue swept into his mouth and he moaned, sucking on it eagerly and pushing his tongue back against it. The hand on his face slid to the back of his head and gripped his neck without force and the warmth of it sent chills down Mitch's spine. This was what a kiss was supposed to be.

Paul pulled away long enough to lift Mitch's shirt off over his head and throw it carelessly to the side before kissing him again. Mitch put his hands on Paul's chest, feeling the firm muscles under his fingers. Paul tensed slightly and Mitch ran his hands down, feeling Paul's tone abdomen quiver slightly as he moved lower. Reaching for the drawstring of the Paul's night pants, Mitch found that he fumbled a little on the knot, unwilling to break off the kiss to look down and see what he was doing.

Paul reached his hands down and pushed Mitch's away gently, pulling back from the kiss, "Lay back."

The bed felt cool against his back, but Paul was over him almost immediately, kissing him again and driving all other thoughts from his mind. Mitch moaned eagerly as Paul began kissing down his body, sucking gently and leaving little red marks on his chest and abdomen until he got to the line of Mitch's pants. Quickly, he undid the drawstring and pulled the pants and underwear down over the boy's hips.

Mitch closed his eyes and pressed his head into the bed as Paul licked the head of his leaking cock. "God, Mitch you're so fucking hot."

"‘M not." Mitch felt himself blushing, taken aback by the compliment. Paul, with his tone body and broad shoulders was sexy; Richard, with his roughish good looks was sexy; even Tanner, with his limber movements was sexy. Mitch was short and scrawny and there wasn't anything sexy about him.

Paul kissed down the shaft of his penis and then stopped, waiting until Mitch looked up at him. "You are."

Without hesitation, he dropped his head, burying his nose in the dark blonde pubic hair and swallowing Mitch's cock into the back of his throat. It wasn't large, per say, but then it wasn't small. In fact, for a fifteen-year-old, it was rather impressive, standing at a slender seven inches. He squeezed Mitch's thighs and cupped his balls in one hand, kneading them while he bobbed his head up and down, moaning around the head of his cock.

Mitch arched his back. Louis had sucked his cock often enough, even Tanner had done it once, after Jessie had injected something into Mitch's nipple that made him beg for any contact, hard or soft, painful or pleasurable, but it had never been like this. Even on the drugs there had been a sense of deep shame that wasn't present now that Paul stroked him, touched him, made his body sing.

His balls tightened as his orgasm built and Paul pulled his head up, "I want to fuck you."

Mitch found himself whimpering at the confession. "Do it."

Paul shook his head, "Not yet." He sat up, reaching over Mitch for the bedside table and pulling the little bottle of lubricant out of the drawer. A moment later, two fingers pressed against his anus and he bit his lip against the shudder than ran through him as they slipped in. Paul moved achingly slow, twisting them inside Mitch until they brushed against his prostate.

He heard a chuckle from between his legs and his already pink faced turned bright red. How could this be so embarrassing when Richard and the others had done so much worse? For god's sake, Richard had rimmed him and suddenly he was embarrassed that Paul had a few fingers up his arse? Paul's mouth was back around his cock, sucking and making lewd slurping noises. He crooked his fingers inside of Mitch, brushing them against the little gland and Mitch's orgasm crashed over him, washing away all other sensation, making him cry out from the intensity and leaving him panting.

Paul swallowed, sucking for several more seconds before moving back up Mitch's body, leaving a wet trail of saliva as he ran his tongue along the middle of Mitch's chest. When he positioned himself and pushed in, slowly and steadily, Mitch clutched at his arms, not sure whether he wanted him to back off or go faster. His whole body was still painfully sensitive and his arse quivered around the welcome intruder.

The tight purse of Paul's balls fell against his arse cheeks and Paul stopped moving. He put a hand on Mitch's face and tipped it back, kissing Mitch, swirling his tongue around Mitch's mouth and moving it in and out in a parody of sex. "You're so tight, Mitch. You feel me inside you? You feel how big I am for you?"

It should have been silly, like something out a porno, but somehow in that moment, coming from Paul, it sounded perfect. He nodded, "Yeah."

"Can I fuck you?"

It was another of those silly questions - the man had his cock buried in Mitch's arse and he had to ask if it was okay? - but again it sounded strangely comforting. "Yes, god, please."

Paul pulling back and pushing in again was like cool salve on a burn. He cried out and his wilted erection twitched, stiffening as Paul continued to fuck him, his strokes becoming longer and harder with each thrust. By the time Paul lifted Mitch's legs onto his shoulder, doubling him over and began to truly fuck him in earnest, Mitch's cock was once again standing at full attention and leaking droplets of fluid down his shaft.

One of Paul's hands moved between their bodies and wrapped around Mitch's cock, pulling him off as Paul slammed into him. Mitch locked his ankles around Paul's neck and clenched his jaw, unable to control the scream of pleasure that ripped out of him as he came a second time. Paul pushed into him and stopped, his cock pulsating as he came deep inside Mitch before collapsing on top him.

They laid there for some time, panting and shaking with exhaustion. The pleasant fog that had settled over Mitch's mind started to clear, but he tightened his grip around Paul's neck. He didn't want this to end just yet. At the movement, Paul moaned and pulled out of Mitch, rolling off him languidly. For a moment, Mitch's heart sank into his stomach, but Paul, unlike Richard, wasn't interested in getting out of the bed or turning over and ignoring Mitch, pretending he was a whore that had out used his usefulness for the evening. Instead, Paul put his arms around Mitch, drawing the boy to him so that Mitch's face was pressed against his chest and Mitch couldn't remember ever having felt so protected in all his life. He closed his eyes and welcomed sleep, comforted in the arms of the man that he loved.

*****

The next morning found Paul lying on the bed, sated and content. They had gotten up early and taken a shower. Paul had told himself that the sex would only be that one time, just to show Mitch that it didn't have to be painful and degrading, that it could be wonderful. It was easy enough to tell Mitch ‘no' in his head, but when the boy was naked and slicked with soap, sidling up to him and breathing sweet, wanton words into his ear ... well, that was another matter entirely.

In the shower, Paul had taken his time, kissing Mitch breathless and nearly suffocating him with what he was reluctant to call love, but felt quite a bit like it. The boy's skin was like silk under his hands and his voice, heavy with lust was the most beautiful sound Paul had ever heard. Afterwards they had retired to the bed and Paul had watched television, his arm slung loosely around Mitch, who was reading his book and listening to his iPod, a grin on his face that showed more joy than Paul had ever seen on the boy.

He looked down at Mitch, watching the boy turn the page, his feet bobbing in the air in time with the muffled music. He chuckled and Mitch looked up at him, his grin replaced with a wary look of concern. Mitch pulled the headphone out of his ear and sat up, "Is something wrong?"

Paul shook his head and stretched his hands behind his head. "No." He felt like doing something nice, something that would make the boy smile again. An idea struck him. "How many songs do you have on that thing?"

Mitch looked at the pink mini-iPod. "Um, it might be about half full, I suppose. Richard bought it for me and set me at the desk to get music, but..." He trailed off and Paul could see the memories of whatever had happened that night playing in the boy's mind.

"Well, then, I think it's about time we fill it up."

He got off the bed and took Mitch's hand, pulling him off the bed and setting him at the desk. Mitch looked up at him with wide eyes and Paul leaned over the boy, turning on the computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he tipped Mitch's face back and kissed him, drawing it out until he heard the familiar chimes as the computer finished logging in. The pink tint of Mitch's cheeks was satisfying to see and he almost took the boy back to bed right then, but just as he leaned back in to kiss Mitch again, his phone rang and the voice it rang with was like ice being poured over his crotch

"Paul, buddy, get your lazy arse up!"

He cursed and clicked on the internet connection, typing in the password quickly. "I'll be right back." He flipped open the phone to cut off another ring and kissed Mitch softly again before leaving the room. Mitch stared at him until the door closed and then looked back at the computer, his heart pounding in his ears.

The internet was on. Richard had never left him alone with the computer on, let alone the internet up. All he had to do was write an email. Less than two minutes and someone would know where he was, they would come to get him. Less than two minutes, more than enough time. He looked at the door again and closed his eyes. He wanted out of here, he really did and he didn't want to die, which was a very likely possibility with Richard Carter involved, but Paul...