Title: Silent Scream
Author: Modgey
Rating: R for sex and slight language.
Disclaimer: All hail King Smith. We bow to his mastery and his
characters. They don't belong to us, we just like to play with em a
bit.
Summary: Well I blame this one completely on Charles. He mentioned
being a pimp... game me plot bunnies. Damn.
Archiving: Suuuuuuuuuure. Anywhere you please, but if it's NOT the
list archive, please drop me an email at bouchardenator@gmail.com.

==================

The old car had seen better days. Dark green, faded leather
interior, rust was starting to eat the doors. In its glory days, it
had been a large luxury car. Now, it had been lowered to the task of
carting around someone who was barely an adult himself. The raven
haired man had long, silky hair, a luxury unusual for a "muscle". He
also had a full beard, the color of good, dark chocolate. As he
drove down the low-lit street, he sparked a cigarette. It was an
old, practiced habit, one performed with ease and a grace you
wouldn't expect from one so large. There was pain buried deep in his
eyes somewhere, but it didn't often show through the iron hard shell
he had constructed to protect himself from those who would injure
his fragile emotions.

From the outside, the figure seemed proud. But he was far from it
tonight, as he was engaged in an activity he had never attempted
before. There was only one reason cars cruised slowly through this
part of Jersey, and that reason was apparent by all the young men
and women languishing on the sidewalk, slowly watching his car pass
by with a sort of hunger in their eyes.

You see, there weren't many places that silent hired muscle could
pick up men. Especially not when the silence was largely the by-
product of shyness. He had known he was gay as long as he could
remember, but had never quite figured out how to be who he was. In
school, any attempts at dating or any sort of physical relationship
had crashed and burned, leaving the shy heart more wounded and
closed than when he started.

So this all lead him to where he was tonight, out trolling for�
well, he didn't quite know what. A physical companion at the very
least. As he pulled over to the side walk, a young, attractive
blonde man approached, as well as a slightly more care-worn older
woman. He rolled down his window, and the woman leaned her elbows on
the car.

"You wanna date?" He just shook his head at her, nodding slightly
towards the man. Her face fell, just a little bit, and she backed
away from the car.

"So, you're here for the young bloods, huh?" He shrugged, nodded
slightly.

"Well, lemme show you what we have here." All of the sudden, the
attractive man's face turned into something... smarmy, and slightly
evil. He began describing each of his "pack" of runaways as one
would try and sell a used car. The man peered around at the boys,
not really seeing anything that caught his interest. They were all
too... pretty. He craned his neck around the eager pimp and caught
sight, just barely, of a flash of gold back by the brick wall, away
from the streetlight. `Gold?' he thought. `On the streets?' He
glimpsed the gleam again, and this time it was apparent that the
shiny object was, in fact, hair.

"Stop." He said to the blonde used-boy salesman. Shocked into
silence by the large man's speech, the pimp looked around. "...What?"
The young man inclined his head slightly towards the back wall. The
pimp looked around, trying to see what he was indicating towards.
All of a sudden he peered harder into the darkness, and said "Who,
the Rat?? No one wants him, trust me. Not enough meat on his bones.
He's not what you're looking for." The muscle just glowered at him,
and opened the car door. The other boys shrank away as he walked out
of the spotlight, back towards that glint of gold against the wall.
And even though the man took his wrist rather gently as he lead him,
there was a silent scream in his eyes. Peering closer, he saw there
was also infinite beauty. Even as he watched, the eyes shifted
color. The muscle tossed a roll of bills at Blondie, not really
paying attention to the amount. He vaguely heard him call "Hey,
buddy, just bring him back in one piece, alright?"

They climbed into the car, and he offered the boy a cigarette out of
his pack. They both lit up, and as they drove, he started to talk to
fill the silence.

"My name is Robert, most people call me Bob though. Some even call
me Silent Bob.... I don't usually talk a lot. I live just a couple of
blocks this way..." at this point, he faltered, the words dying on his
tongue. Bob shrugged. He supposed he was out of practice. And Golden
Boy certainly wasn't helping him out at all. He turned towards the
frail kid and asked "So what's your name?" The boy just shrugged.
Bob looked at him a second longer, then turned back towards the
road. "Alright, well, here we are."

The first thing Bob noticed when they got inside the light of the
fourth floor walkup was how skinny this almost-child actually was.
His clothing was hanging off his frame like you might see on a
mannequin in one of those fancy stores. His arms were covered in
cuts, bruises, tracks. `Which means he's hooked and desperate.' Bob
thought grimly. Because although the boy had come with him, followed
him, and had been out on the streets to be sold, there was fear in
his eyes.

"What are you afraid of?" Bob murmured, almost to himself. When the
boy didn't respond, just stood there looking at him, he shrugged and
took his hand. "The bedroom is this way."

When they entered the room, the most noticeable thing was the black
walls. Bob had also put a red light bulb in his lamp, and had a
black and red cover on his bed. His favorite colors were glaringly
obvious. The slightly surprising find was the crimson satin sheets
under that plain cotton cover. The youth just inclined his eyebrow
slightly. Turning, he walked towards Bob slowly. When he reached
him, he wrapped his arm around his waist slowly, and leaned up to
claim his lips. Whatever shyness this boy had with words, he was
sure of his body, and his abilities. After caressing Bob's lips with
his own for a bit, his hands crept around front, very surely, and
unbuttoned and unzipped the black dickies Bob was wearing. As the
boy kneeled down in front of him on the hardwood floor, he grabbed
his wrists, and uttered one word again. "Stop." He looked up at him,
captive, and frowned slightly, as Bob was struck again by the beauty
of the eyes on this street rat.

"Not that, not yet." Bob spoke again. This was becoming a habit for
him. He turned and ambled towards his bedside table, pulling lube
and a condom out of the drawer. Again, the boy inclined an eyebrow
slightly at him. Looking downward slightly, he indicated his head at
Bob's bulging boxers. Bob shook his head, hand outstretched, and
said "No. You."

As they climbed onto the bed and slid between the satin sheets, it
was Bob who had fear in his eyes. It had been awhile since he had
done this. But the boy warmed him up slowly, and when he slid in,
slid home, there was only pleasure. Rocking slightly together, the
youth leaned down and curved his tongue along the shell of Bob's
ear, finally closing his teeth down slightly on his earlobe. Bob
gasped, and arched his back slightly. The boy pulled away, and Bob
looked up through the curtain of golden hair surrounding him, to his
face. His eyes. Color shifting again, almost silver, Bob felt a stir
that had nothing to do with anything physical. It was slightly
painful. In fact, it almost felt like the boy was taking a scalpel,
and slowly, carefully cutting the scar tissue away from Bob's heart.
It opened, turned, and fell. And Bob was gone. The boy's eyes
changed again and his head was thrown back. And as Bob came, he bled
inside.

****

Afterwards, they lay in the bed, just looking. Unable to resist any
longer, he reached out and stroked the boy's long, golden hair.
Suddenly, the youth spoke.

"My name is Jason. Most people call me Jay." He said. Bob smiled a
little and nodded.

"And how old are you, Jay?"

"17." He said, slightly defensively.

"And how did you come to be in this... profession?" As Bob spoke, he
stroked the track marks absently. For he was pretty sure he already
knew.

Jay started to speak haltingly, telling his story. He had an abusive
mother somewhere in Jersey, who was also a whore. She started
selling him to her johns at a young age, maybe 12 or so. Jay had
started the drug habit as an escape, but it soon took over his life
and his driving need was for money for the heroin habit. He had run
away, dropped out of high school, and ended up under the tutelage of
Rocko, the smarmy salesman-made-pimp. Rock didn't treat his boys
very well, and the cycle of abuse started again. But the money he
pulled in for him kept him hooked on his habit, and kept the supply
coming in. In a modern world, the pimp had taken the place of the
slave - driver. Abusive, controlling, but their charges became
dependant and unable to escape.

As Jay spoke, Bob began to formulate a plan. He happened to come
from a bit of money, made illicitly. In fact, his father was one of
the top Russian mob-bosses in the tri-state area. If they could
obtain some starter money to make some capital.... They might be able
to "buy" Jay's freedom from his master. He spoke earnestly, and Jay
fell silent again. Suspicious. Why did this muscle care so much?
This was the question on his mind, Bob could read it in his eyes.
Being a master of silence himself, he had learned to read faces, and
eyes, very well. And the faint echo of the silent scream he had seen
remained. There was a deep, ingrained fear in this young man that
would be hard to break.

"I just do." He shrugged. That would have to do for now. "You can
stay here for the night, no sense in my driving back there now, and
I paid Rocko enough. You should be fine." Jay shrugged, turned over,
and went to bed.

They started out laying in bed facing away from each other, but in
their sleep their bodies betrayed them. Bob turned over, ending up
against Jay's curled form, and he slipped his arm around his waist,
up towards his chest. Jay hand came up and rested on top of his.
When they woke in the morning, nothing was said about the change in
position, and they went into the kitchen for a first smoke and a
start to their day.

Not having heard any objection to his plan, Bob drove Jay out to
meet with his father. Over the next several days, they met with
various family members, and went to buy their stock. Jay spoke
rarely, staying almost completely silent since he had told his
story. The was an awkward comfort between the two men though, and
often as they walked along the road, they were close to each other,
and Bob talked to fill the thundering quiet. Finally, having bought
all their stock, they settled in front of a local convenience store
to make some money.

The going was slow, as they were new to the area as dealers, and Bob
wasn't the loudest mouthpiece. But over the next week or two they
made enough money to buy Jay's freedom. Word also came, over those
weeks, that Rocko was on a tear. Looking for one of his boys that
had gone missing. He was fucking pissed, and out for blood.

That Friday night at the end of those long two weeks, they
approached the same street corner they had met on almost a month
prior. Spotting them, Rocko started towards the light. When he
reached them, he didn't say anything. Just backhanded Jay across the
face and reached for his tee-shirt. At this, Bob's arm shot out,
pinning the pimp to the brick wall by his neck.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch him." Rocko looked angry, and started to say
something. But Bob pulled a roll of bills out of his pocket, shoving
it in the pimps face. At this, Rocko nodded slightly. Bob let him
slide down, released his neck. Rubbing it gingerly, the man reached
out and took the roll of cash out of Bob's hand. "Don't ever fucking
touch him again," Bob stated, then turned, grabbed Jay's hand, and
walked away.

Over the coming months the two settled into a routine. Selling
during the day, they turned to each other for comfort in the night.
It always went un-discussed the next day, but it was there. Jay
began to talk again, slowly, and the scream faded from his eyes. One
day in front of the quick stop, he turned to Bob and said one
word. "Why?"

Bob shrugged. "I fell in love with you that first night. You took my
scars away." When Jay looked confused at the reference, Bob just
smiled slightly and leaned his forehead down so it was just touching
Jay's. "Because." And he placed a kiss on his lips.

Nodding, Jay seemed to accept that. They turned away from each
other, watching the two girls approaching them to buy. All of the
sudden Jay started yelling. "Hey baby, you want some fucking smoke?
Yeah I'll show you what you can smoke..." and he grabbed the crotch of
his pants. Jay turned and observed Bob's shocked expression. He
leaned over and whispered conspiratorially;

"Ya see, `silent' Bob, they used to call me the Mouth."



~*Modgey*~

Hopin' I done good