A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 10

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By Sadie Rose Bermingham ©2006

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The sealed envelope was propped up on the counter in the Day Room when Ant rose and wandered through for some breakfast. It was addressed by hand, with Rayne’s name alone in stark, black ink on the crisp, white cartridge paper. He touched the edges of it warily as if it might be cursed, then picked it up, feeling the weight of the folded documents inside. As he was turning it over in his hand, Daniel wandered back through from the rear deck looking like God on holiday, in a long, almost-translucent white gown and open sandals, his snowy hair spilling over his shoulders like a shroud. Steely eyes glittered a warning but all he said was; “Leave it.”

“I need to know,” Ant said, tapping one end of the envelope into his open palm irritably.

“Then you can ask him when he gets back and opens it,” Dan Leland told him, shaking his head. “If it makes you feel better, Mahmoudi dropped it off in person. He did not suggest that we should be unduly concerned.”

For a long moment, Ant just stared at the dreaded envelope as if he could peel away the layers of paper with his eyes and devour the words inside. Then he made himself set it down again and poured some orange juice.

“Who is the little blond in your bed?” Daniel enquired loftily, reminding him that there was nothing going on aboard this vessel that he did not know about.

“Christophe’s boy, Thierry,” Ant sighed wearily. “The guy who said he’d have Rayne raped. I reckon he decided to take it out on Thierry instead. Isolde and I found him on the way back from the club. He needs somewhere to recover.”

Daniel shook his head, apparently bemused by this.

“You’re becoming a regular knight in shining armour, Antoine. It’s not your duty to rescue every little slut that crosses your path, you know!”

“Thierry’s not a slut!” Ant protested. “He genuinely believes he’s in love with that bastard. He’d let the guy do almost anything to him, but last night was just too much. He still won’t tell me what happened but it looks like Christophe beat the shit out of him.”

He followed Daniel out into the morning sunlight, still preoccupied by the contents of the envelope back on the galley counter.

“You spent the night with Arnoldo, I believe?” Dan commented as he joined the older man on the sunlit deck, rubbing tired eyes against the brilliance of the light that shimmered off the dancing waves.

“What if I did?” Ant sat down cautiously and sipped his drink, wincing at the cold, sharp taste.

“I’m not rebuking you, child. If you want my opinion, I think it is a good thing,” Leland smiled pacifically at him and helped himself to a croissant. “You have been far too preoccupied with your little pet since you arrived. It will do you good to relax and enjoy yourself. Aldo is an uncomplicated boy. He has more… maturity.”

Ant could not argue with that. He had enjoyed Aldo di Boccato’s pounding ‘maturity’ inside him for much of last night and was glad of the cushions on his friend’s comfortable lounger this morning.

“I don’t have the hots for him though,” he told Daniel with a little sigh. “When I look at Aldo I just don’t get the feeling I get when I’m with Rayne. I know I’m crazy, but that’s how I feel. He… sets me on fire.”

“He’s consuming your common sense, that’s for sure,” his companion snorted in a good-humoured tone. “Antoine, you used to be such a level headed boy.”

“We all grow up and we all do foolish things for love,” Ant said distractedly, staring into space, although his eyes had wandered instinctively towards the huge cruiser moored at the head of the next pontoon.

“Please tell me that you’re not in love with the little bitch!” Daniel shook his head gravely. “That would be too excruciating.”

“Just because Corin broke your heart, it doesn’t mean they’re all the same.” Ant’s serious gaze moved back to his face, more boldly.

“Please! Broke my heart? He was a little junky slut and he went the way of all of them in the end. Good riddance!” Daniel snatched up his newspaper though and retreated behind it, clearing his throat. His casual demeanour had evaporated. Ant experienced a little surge of satisfaction then felt it slowly ebb away as he watched Dan Leland fidget with the broadsheet then slap it down again and retreat back into the cool shadows of the Day Room.

The old man had been alone since Corin Harding left him. And although he was never without company it was not the same as having a lover who knew your every whim. Although Corin was fifteen years Dan’s junior, they had been passionately, hedonistically close for almost a decade, living in London and Paris, making movies and enjoying life to full. Everyone they knew smoked a little grass or even took poppers illegal bahis or speed on occasion. Then Corin discovered the temptation of Smack. Before long he was disappearing for days at a time, stealing money and possessions and making excuses for his absences that even a blind, deaf and stupid man would be hard pressed to fall for. Daniel was none of those things and although he was patient, he would not be made to look foolish. He gave Corin an ultimatum, clean up and give his new Dealer friends the push, or move out.

Corin pretended for a little while that he was clean but when Dan found needles in their bedroom he took the initiative. Packing his things and moving everything else into storage, he retreated to his boat on the Cap and had been there ever since. Corin tried to get him back but Dan would not see him or speak to him. The younger man had died of an overdose, alone, in a Parisian hotel bedroom, about eight years ago. Daniel did not even go to his funeral.

The thought of Rayne lying dead in a squalid room somewhere with a needle in his arm made Ant feel sick to his stomach. Then he looked up at the looming, white boat that filled his vision and the idea of the boy being stretched and violated somewhere on board, started a fire in his belly that would not subside. Pushing himself to his feet he walked back into the Day Room, snatched up the envelope and set out for PJ’s vessel to find out the truth for himself.

Rayne Wilde woke with a slight headache and an astonishingly sore throat, the only detractions from an otherwise overwhelming sensation of wellbeing that seemed to have wrapped itself around him in the night. It was not the only thing. Paddy McNamara was snuggled up against his back and bottom, his steady breathing like a hot breeze on Rayne’s neck. Clay was lying sprawled on his belly in front of the boy, his dark handsome head pillowed in his folded arms, sleeping face turned a little towards them. His long braids cascaded over the rumpled bedclothes like a spill of tiny snakes. For a little while, Rayne just lay still, enjoying the heat and the primal, musky-salty scent of their spent sex, letting the memories of last night come back to him. When he closed his eyes again he could not recall anything beyond struggling to suck on the length of Paddy’s cock. His rectum was not aching so he deduced that the men had actually honoured their promise to Daniel Leland after all. Rayne was privately astounded.

He lay in Paddy’s arms a little longer, deliberating on recent events. Last Wednesday, Ant had hauled him out of the London snow and thawed him out in the warmth of his bed. Since then, it seemed that he had not gone for more than half a day without getting his mouth or his arsehole fucked. Even working for Johnno, he did not think he had ever been screwed as frequently as he had been during this hectic week. He was not even sure what day it was.

As he opened his eyes, a movement in the doorway made him struggle to sit up. Mikkal was awake and on the prowl. His powerful body glistened, wet from an early shower, and his pale, tousled hair hung free, so long that it fell well past his nipples, almost to his navel. His beautiful cock swung loose between his legs as he walked casually into the room like some kind of Greek God.

“Hi, you want some coffee?” he asked amenably, and Rayne nodded, managing to disentangle himself carefully from the other two without rousing them.

“That was some night, yeah?” Mikka commented as he rose. “You feel okay?”

“A bit… weird,” Rayne admitted, rubbing his eyes. “Like I could just sleep forever.”

“You earned the right to sleep last night,” Mikkal agreed as Rayne followed him from the bedroom, down a long, cool, corridor towards the lounge. He could feel the slight rolling motion of the vessel and wondered for a moment if he was still drunk. “Not many boys can deep-throat PJ all the way down like that. Even ‘I’ have to start when he is limp.”

Rayne blinked, visibly surprised.

“You’ve sucked his cock?”

“Of course!” Mikkal laughed, glancing back over his shoulder at the younger man. “Before I was his bodyguard, I appeared in some of his movies. That is how we all begin. I’ve had that cock inside me many times, in every position you can imagine and some you probably can’t!”

Rayne shook his head, somewhat bemused by this admission. He headed in to the bathroom while Mikkal went on ahead to fix the coffee. The handsome, confident Finn looked older than him but certainly younger than PJ McNamara. Even so, Rayne could not imagine Mikkal as a shy teenager, just beginning in the movie industry and overwhelmed by all those huge cocks. He stepped under the shower and let the warm water reinvigorate him quickly before towelling off and following Mikkal through to the galley.

“How’d you get involved in all this?” he asked, hopping up onto a tall, leather-covered stool at the breakfast bar in the sunlit galley. The smell of fresh coffee and hot croissants illegal bahis siteleri washed over him like a purifying balm. “Do they make porn in Finland?”

“Sure they do!” Mikka laughed at him. “Wherever they have guys and cameras they make porn.”

“Okay, okay!” Rayne managed to laugh at himself as the blond poured him a huge, bowl-like cup of coffee. “I’m dim, I know!”

“You’re still waking up,” Mikkal said in a forgiving tone. “Don’t be hard on yourself. I’ve been making movies for about ten years, then working for PJ another five. When I am eighteen, I make my first movie with him but there were others, in Finland, before. I am lucky, I guess. I have this.” He stroked his limp, but still impressive cock.

“Have you always been huge?” Rayne asked, admiring it openly.

“From about age eleven, yes. It began to grow then. I was much teased at school. I saw many doctors. When I was about fourteen, it was ten inches and still growing. At sixteen it stopped. Twelve and a quarter inch! Many doctors came and took photographs for medical journals. One day a man approached my parents and asked can he take photos for an ‘artistic’ magazine. He offered money but my parents said no.”

Rayne looked at him knowingly.

“But you called him on your own?”

“It was a lot of money,” Mikkal said simply. “My parents were not wealthy and Finland is an expensive country to live in. At first he was not happy to take pictures without consent of my parents but at last we met up. I went to Helsinki and he took my picture, posing for him, taking off my clothes and also fully naked. The photos were for a German magazine. They were very popular. I posed nude for them a few times after.” Mikkal sipped his coffee and took a bite from one of the croissants, looking thoughtful.

“Is that how Paddy found you?” Rayne asked, helping himself to a croissant. It was warm and fluffy-soft, just the right side of sweet.

Mikkal shook his head, making his blond hair swing back and forth. Rayne imagined that he must have been very beautiful in his teens; slim, blond and well endowed, every Aryan queer man’s fantasy.

“Another German magazine contacted me after I had left school. They asked; ‘do you do more risque stuff?’ My pictures were very innocent, you see; just simple nudity, a little suggestion but nothing more. I asked what they meant and the guy on the phone said; ‘are you prepared to pose for hardcore pictures?’ Well…” Mikkal chuckled to himself quickly. “…I was very naïve. I did not know what this was but the man said ‘more money, much more’ so I said yes. I went with him to Dusseldorf, in Germany. I was still a virgin. In Dusseldorf at a studio I stroked and sucked another man’s erect penis while he took photos. I had never done such a thing before. It was shocking. My companion was very excited watching me do this. He took many pictures and I sucked off four men.”

“Were you scared?” Rayne asked as he took another sip from his coffee cup, smiling wryly.

“A little, yes. But it was not difficult. After the first time, I quickly learned what they wanted of me. A couple of times I choked and spat it out when they ejaculated in my mouth, but the man taking pictures did not seem to mind. That night he came to my room at the hotel with another man and cameras. They sat me down and explained that there would be much money for film of me losing my innocence with a man. They brought vodka and I drank with them. I got very drunk that night and I was very nervous. The stranger undressed with me and they set up the camera, then I sucked both their cocks. The stranger put on a rubber and lubricated his cock and the photographer began to film us as he got on the bed with me. He spread my legs so the camera could see as he pushed his hard penis into me. I think I cried and asked him to stop but I was very drunk. I cannot remember much. They both had anal sex with me two or three times that night but I never watched the film. He gave me some of the money but I think that he made much more!”

“Bastard!” the younger man said in a grim voice. He shook his head slowly.

“Yes,” Mikkal agreed distantly. “For a while I made no pictures. I was embarrassed. It was no secret that I was a queer slut. I felt that everyone must know. I went home to Finland, to college in Helsinki, where no one knew me. When I went home to visit, my Mama said that a man had been calling for me, an English-speaking man. He wanted to see me about a job. There was a number.”

“Paddy?” Rayne asked with a grin.

“Yeah.” Mikkal drained his coffee cup and topped them both up from the percolator. “I nearly threw the number away, but I had applied for other jobs. My parents’ number was listed as contact as I had no phone in Helsinki. I called him and he said he had seen some of my pictures and asked if I was a registered actor. I told him no.”

“Was he disappointed?” Rayne laughed.

Mikkal shook his heavy blond hair slowly.

“I don’t think so. He canlı bahis siteleri asked me could I come to London and I said I had no money. The next day some tickets arrived and directions to his hotel in London. He had sounded nice on the phone, he did not talk about sex. He told me that he wanted me to screen test. When I arrived though, he took me to dinner. He was handsome and very charming. I relaxed with him completely. Over dinner he told me again how much he had enjoyed my pictures and how beautiful I was. He asked my age and if I had a boyfriend. I said no. That seemed to surprise him. He asked me then, how was my favourite way to have a man make love with me.” Mikkal’s silver eyes widened and he managed another small shake of his head. “Well… I think I blushed. I was very shy still. At last I told him that I had only ever done sex that one night in Dusseldorf when those two German guys fuck me, and I was not sure I liked it at all. Paddy was shocked; he said he had seen that film and he thought I was an actor. He seemed… annoyed that I was forced on my first time with a man. He called them some very Irish names I had never heard before. It made me laugh.” He was smiling faintly at the memory. “Afterwards we went to his hotel room with a bottle of wine and made out for hours.”

Rayne uttered an incredulous sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“Didn’t he freak you out when he stripped off?”

Mikkal nodded.

“He was not as big as he is now. PJ has worked on his cock-strength for years. He was about the size I am now, but it was still large. I said that I was afraid it would rip my ass out but he promised me that it would not. He took his time with me. He was very gentle and patient. We had been making out for three hours before he penetrated me.”

Rayne half closed his eyes, feeling that plummeting sensation in his belly again. He remembered something else about last night.

“Did I really beg you all to fuck me?” he asked warily. “Or was that a dream?”

Mikkal smiled at him rather mischievously.

“I think that one time you screamed it so loud that half the marina heard,” he volunteered rather apologetically.

Rayne put down the coffee bowl and let his head drop into his hands with a little groan of mortification.

“Oh Jesus! I should ‘never’ drink, Mikka!”

“You ‘were’ still very drunk,” his companion acknowledged. “Even late into the morning after you had been sick. It is not so good for you, I think. Nor this…”

Mikkal reached forward now and touched Rayne’s arm, letting his fingers trail from the crook of his elbow to his shoulder. The younger man was watching his expressionless face. He did not have to ask what Mikkal meant.

“I don’t do it any more,” he lied automatically.

“Yes, that is what all addicts say,” Mikkal nodded sadly.

“I don’t inject it.”

“But you have done,” the Finn pointed out. “In the past.”

“It was just the people I was around at the time. I don’t inject myself, I swear to you. I’d faint if I had to watch the needle go in!” he laughed at himself a little awkwardly.

“Is that why you were concerned about your test results?” Mikkal asked him gravely.

Rayne managed to shrug his skinny shoulders.

“I fuck strangers for a living,” he said quietly. “Some wear johnnies, a lot don’t bother. It would be quicker and easier to cut my throat, I guess!”

“Or your wrists?” Mikkal said darkly. His grey eyes lifted from Rayne’s hands to his strikingly pretty face, still carefully neutral.

“Yeah… I know what it looks like,” Rayne admitted without missing a beat. “I’m not suicidal, okay?”

“Glad to hear it.” The sleepy voice did not come from Mikkal’s lips.

Both men turned automatically to face the corridor leading back into the bedrooms. PJ McNamara was watching them intently from the shadows. He flashed them a tired smile now and said; “Any of that damned coffee left?”

To Rayne’s infinite relief, the subject of his scars was not pursued. He thought that Paddy looked at him a little oddly over breakfast but the big man said very little, nor did he allude to the events of the previous night. Rayne let him escape to the bathroom after breakfast and though he wandered up there in the Irishman’s wake, he was not asked to join Paddy under the shower. A glance into the bedroom showed him that Clay was still sleeping soundly on the rumpled divan. Only Mikka was a morning person, it seemed.

Rayne wandered back to the breakfast bar, having collected his scattered jewellery from the bedroom and pulled on his black boots. As he was fastening the buckled straps around his slim calves, PJ returned to the lounge and slumped down comfortably on one of the leather sofas reading through some paperwork. The breakfast things had been cleared and there was no sign of Mikkal.

The Irish National Stud wore reading glasses, and precious little else, which made Rayne smile. His thick, dark red hair was pulled back from his face with an elasticised band and he flicked through the documents with a steady determination that precluded conversation.

“I’m gonna go back to the other boat,” Rayne told him at last, when he did not look up. “If that’s okay with you?”

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