The sunrise hit the windshield like soft fire, bleeding gold over the horizon. It was Sunday morning and they were still in Ohio, just barely. The trees blurred past in a rush of yellow and orange as the old Nissan rumbled along under D’s hands. The heater hissed low, working overtime to beat back the chill. Joey had finally stopped shivering, wrapped in his new hoodie with the hood up, legs curled under him in the passenger seat. A protein bar sat half-eaten in his lap.

“So, tell me,” D said, glancing over, voice rough from too little sleep. “How’d you get to be so good with cars?”

Joey blinked, caught off guard. He shifted, chewing his bottom lip. “M-my dad,” he murmured. “He used to w-work on his car in the d-driveway a lot and I—I’d sit out there w-with him. H-he wasn’t like… warm or anything. B-but he’d let me watch. Sometimes I-I’d hand him tools. That was the o-only time we really… y’know. S-spent time together. No Ronnie. No S-Sara. No Josh shoving me o-outta the way.”

D’s knuckles flexed slightly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t interrupt.

Joey gave a soft laugh. “And m-my Cavalier. T-that car I l-left up in C-Cleveland… I g-got it a couple y-years ago. 2008, r-real piece of s-shit. But I’ve b-been fixing it up ever s-since. New t-timing belt, gaskets, f-flushed the coolant, fixed a leak m-myself. I-I even put in a new stereo. S’probably the only th-thing I’ve ever been p-proud of.”

“That’s your passion,” D said after a beat. “You ever think about working with cars? Like… real work. Custom body shop. Engine rebuilds. You got a gift, Joey.”

Joey’s smile faded, shoulders curling inward. “I w-wanted to. B-but you gotta be able to r-read. Manuals, p-part numbers, instructions… l-labels. I-I tried. I had an a-a-apprenticeship at a local place r-recently, but I lost it a-after o-one week. I ordered the w-wrong part and the c-customer was p-pissed. I felt so f-fucking stupid.”

D didn’t answer right away. Just reached across the console and placed a warm hand on Joey’s thigh. “Then we’ll fix that. I’m gonna teach you to read.”

Joey turned, startled. “W-what?”

“I mean it,” D said, firm. “I don’t give a shit if it takes months. We’ll figure it out. I’m not gonna let this world treat you like you’re less just because no one ever took the time to help you.”

Joey blinked hard, his throat thick. He didn’t know what to say. But he felt it—the flicker of hope. Real hope.

And then…

Rrrrring.

D’s phone, buried in the console, lit up and vibrated against the plastic.

D stiffened, then reached into the center console to dig it out. He looked at the screen, frowning faintly. “Shit,” he muttered. “It’s Nina.”

Joey frowned. “Who?”

D hit answer without replying. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause while a woman’s voice crackled faintly from the speaker. Fast, sharp, professional. Joey couldn’t make out the words, but it wasn’t a friendly call.

D’s mouth tightened. “Yeah,” he said darkly. “I killed him. Milo. What else was I supposed to do?”

Joey’s breath caught.

Another pause.

“Of course he knows,” D growled. “Vinnie ain’t stupid. Took him what, three seconds to put it together?”

Another pause and Joey watched D, his green eyes huge.

“There’s a hit on me? Yeah, I figured,” D grunted. “Two guys already tried at the motel. Both dead.” More muffled words, and D leaned back, brow furrowing. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. “I’m with the delivery boy now. Joey Balas.”

Joey went cold all over.

Another pause. Then a faint snort from D. “What do you want me to say, Nina?” The tone changed—dry, almost sarcastic. “Sorry I didn’t fall for you? Shit happens.”

Joey shifted, suddenly uncomfortable as the woman on the line fired back something sharp, and D rubbed a hand over his face.

“Nina,” he said flatly, “he’s not like anyone else. There were a hundred easier ways to burn this bridge. But I did it this way. For him.” He looked over at Joey again—and this time his eyes were warm, almost reverent. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “He’s the real deal.”

Joey felt his whole face go hot. He stared down at his hands in his lap.

Nina must’ve backed off a little, because D’s next words came steadier. “Look, if you’re serious about cutting ties with Vinnie, good. But I need you there for a while. I need a pair of eyes on the ground.” He listened for a minute, then continued. “What’s my plan? There’s a drop site in South Carolina. One of Leon’s old places. He stashed a lockbox there. Blackmail, dirt, enough to bring down Vinnie, the Cleveland crew, and the Florida pipeline if we do it right.”

More quiet from the other end. Then D’s tone turned grim.

“What do you mean, he talked to Ronnie?”

Joey sat up straighter, watching D’s face intently.

“You don’t know what was said?” D’s hand slid to the gearshift like he wanted to crush it, then he looked over at Joey and mouthed, “They’re watching your family.”

Joey’s breath caught. “M-my mom?”

“They’re okay,” D said aloud, tone hard. “But if Vinnie’s watching, he’s waiting for Joey to slip. We can’t go near them.”

Nina must’ve said something else, because D closed his eyes and muttered, “Fine. Take this number. It’s a burner.” He read off Joey’s burner number, then added, “Don’t call this number again. I should have tossed it yesterday.”

D ended the call and, without hesitation, chucked the phone out the window. It shattered against the asphalt, a spray of plastic and metal lost in the rising dust of the old highway.

Joey blinked, stunned. “S-so… th-they’re really watching my family?”

D nodded once. “Probably waiting for you to call. So don’t.”

Joey hugged his knees to his chest. “O-okay…”

D drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a beat, then glanced over. “That was Nina,” he added. “Vinnie’s lawyer. One of the best, if you’re scum.” A smirk ghosted across his mouth. “But she’s also... helped me a few times.”

Joey tilted his head, curious.

“She’s fond of me,” D said, voice dry. “Maybe used to be more than that. But she’s helped me disappear kids before. The ones I couldn’t save any other way. New names, fake papers, quiet homes far away. She looked the other way when she shouldn’t have. Sometimes she pushed the paperwork through herself.”

Joey stared, wide-eyed.

“She’s a snake,” D said. “But for a while, she coiled the right way.”

A silence settled in the car, heavy with meaning. The heater clicked. Joey shifted, his hoodie rustling.

D looked back at the road. “We’ll be okay,” he said quietly, like he meant it.

But Joey wasn’t so sure. Not with his mom in danger. Not with the dogs pacing the house. Not with Tay-Tay asking where her favorite uncle had gone.

He couldn’t stop picturing them. Couldn’t stop needing to hear their voices. He bit down on his thumb nail, staring into the morning sun, and made a decision right then and there. He’d find a way to reach them.

Even if he had to lie to D to do it.

***

The “Welcome to West Virginia” sign flashed by in a blur of green and white, half-hidden behind frostbitten trees. The sun was rising fast now, sharpening the shadows on the road and turning the sky a pale, unforgiving blue. The Nissan rattled faintly beneath D’s hands, the gas gauge edging lower than he liked.

“Tank’s almost gone,” he muttered.

Joey didn’t answer. He was half-dozing, hoodie pulled over his head, curled into the passenger seat like a kid trying to disappear.

D’s eyes flicked to the next exit. A truck stop sat hunched just off the highway—one of those places that looked the same in every state: tired, gray-brick building, a dozen diesel pumps, busted vending machines out front, and big rigs lined up like sleeping metal beasts.

He pulled in slow, tires crunching on gravel. The car sputtered like it knew the end was near.

Joey stirred. “H-how much we got left?”

D looked at him. “What’s left of your twenty.”

Joey dug into his jeans and came up with the crumpled bill. “I-it’s like… m-maybe three-fourths of a tank.”

“It’ll have to be.”

D climbed out, filled the tank with the last of their cash, and climbed back in. Then he parked off to the side, behind a rusted-out RV, and killed the engine. Silence fell between them like a dropped knife.

Joey looked at him sideways. “W-what now?”

D didn’t answer right away. His eyes were already scanning the lot. The fuel island. The narrow building up ahead with the busted neon OPEN sign and grime-streaked windows.

Then he saw him.

Middle-aged. Clean shaven. Expensive tan coat. Designer shoes that had no business in West Virginia. Aviator sunglasses still perched on his head even though the sun was barely up. He walked with the casual arrogance of someone who had never been punched in the mouth.

A city boy. Lost in the sticks.

D opened his door.

“Wait—” Joey reached for him, eyes wide. “Where are y-you—?”

“Lock the doors,” D said, already stepping out. “I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for Joey’s response. The door clicked shut behind him, and he started moving—calm, measured, blending into the sleepy shuffle of the lot like he belonged there.

The flashy guy disappeared into the convenience store. D followed, eyes sharp.

Inside, the place smelled like floor cleaner, grease, and that chemical tang of cheap air fresheners. The overhead lights buzzed. A radio played something twangy and old through ceiling speakers.

D trailed the guy, keeping his distance. Watched him pick up a Starbucks, some jerky, a scratch-off ticket. Then he turned down the narrow hallway toward the bathrooms.

Perfect.

D waited five seconds. Six. Then followed.

The bathroom door was just starting to swing closed when D caught it with his fingertips and eased inside.

It was empty. Two urinals, one stall. Cold tile underfoot. The man was at the sink, tapping at his phone, not even glancing up.

D stepped behind him. The man turned just as D’s arm shot forward.

WHUMP.

A clean, brutal blow to the side of the head. The guy gasped, eyes rolling as his body went slack. D caught him halfway down, eased him to the floor.

“Shut up,” he growled.

The man groaned in reply, dazed but not out cold.

D didn’t waste time. He crouched, yanked the wallet free from his back pocket—thick leather, practically bursting—and stood again, breathing hard.

The guy mumbled something weak and incoherent, but D was already wiping the sink handle with his sleeve, erasing prints. He checked the wallet—bills, cards, receipts, corporate ID.

He stuffed the cash into his coat pocket, dropped the wallet into the trash bin by the door, and left without looking back.

Back in the car, Joey startled when D opened the door.

“You g-good?” he stammered. “I-I was starting to get scared—”

D dropped into the driver’s seat and handed him a roll of twenties. “Count it.”

Joey peeled it open slowly, his mouth falling open. “H-holy shit. This is like… j-just under one-eighty.”

“Guy won’t miss it,” D said flatly.

Joey glanced up at him, his green eyes full of stormclouds. “D… D-did you—”

“He’s breathing,” D muttered. “Didn’t kill him.”

He started the engine and peeled out of the lot, gravel kicking up behind them like smoke.

No one followed.

The mountains rose ahead of them. The road stretched on.

The old Nissan hummed steady beneath them, tires eating up the long stretch of highway cutting through the hills. Sunlight filtered weak and gold through the trees, the sky streaked with cold morning haze. They were deeper into West Virginia now—the truck stop an hour behind them. They were past the worst of the frost, but D was still wrapped in that hollowness that always came after a job, after adrenaline faded and conscience caught up.

Joey hadn’t spoken since they left the truck stop.

D glanced at him.

Joey was curled back up in the passenger seat, hoodie strings tight, chewing the corner of his thumbnail. His knee bounced sometimes—nervous energy—then stopped again. The tension hadn’t left his body. It hung there, buzzing quiet like static between them.

“You alright?” D finally asked.

Joey startled a little, glanced over. “Y-yeah. Just t-thinking.”

D waited. He could feel it brewing—whatever was working on Joey, it had weight. He gave it a moment, let the road fill the silence, and then—

“I j-just…” Joey exhaled slowly. “F-feel kinda… guilty, I g-guess. About that guy you r-robbed.”

D stayed quiet.

Joey’s voice was small. “I know we n-needed the money. But you j-just… y-you knocked him out and t-took it.”

Still quiet.

“You m-must do bad stuff all the time though,” Joey added, softer. “It d-doesn’t seem to bother you.”

That one made D look away from the road. He sighed and flexed his jaw, knuckles tight on the wheel. “That’s not true,” he said, low. “It does bother me.”

Joey blinked, surprised.

D continued, eyes fixed ahead. “Maybe it didn’t when I was younger. I dunno. I grew up in this life. Both my brothers were in it. One’s dead now. Got in over his head with a job and took a bullet through the fucking face. Other one’s rotting in state prison, probably won’t get out before he’s sixty. And my dad…” D’s mouth twisted. “Didn’t have one. He was lost to drugs by the time I was ten.”

He paused, the silence landing heavy.

“My mom tried. But she was sick. Real sick. Mentally, physically… everything. Could barely keep up with work or bills, let alone three fucked up boys and a curious little girl, my sis.” His voice lowered. “There wasn’t anyone to tell me not to do this shit. No one to stop me. I just… did what I knew. One job led to another. Next thing I know, I’m the guy people call to clean up messes.”

Joey was staring at him now, wide-eyed.

“And now?” D exhaled through his nose. “Now I’m just doing it outta habit. Same old thing. Same old cycle.” He finally looked over—and Joey’s face was open, vulnerable, lips slightly parted. D’s voice dropped a note. “But then you happened.”

Joey blinked. “M-me?”

“Yeah.” D’s mouth twitched. “You.”

Joey flushed, mouth tugging into a nervous smile.

“I’ve had partners before,” D admitted. “Hookups. Situationships. People I ran with. But I never wanted to commit to any of it. Never thought I’d get out of this life. Until you.”

Joey looked like he was holding his breath.

D rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly a little sheepish. “You make me want to… I dunno. Settle down. Try something real. Make a life that doesn’t involve corpses and fake IDs.”

Joey smiled—shy and stunned, a little crooked, like he didn’t believe it.

“But I’m scared,” D said honestly. “I don’t have a lot of skills outside killing people. I didn’t finish high school. Didn’t even try. No legit work history. No references. Starting from nothing is… gonna be rough.”

Joey’s expression softened. He reached over and touched D’s arm.

“I-it’s g-gonna be rough for m-me too,” he said. “B-but maybe we can figure it out together.”

D looked at him, heart thudding.

Joey grinned then, playful and affectionate, eyes trailing over D’s arms and chest. “M-maybe you could be a p-personal trainer. Y-you’ve got the vibe.”

D barked a laugh. “Yeah? Me? Telling old ladies to squat lower and hydrate?”

Joey giggled. “S-sure! You’ll be a t-trainer and I’ll b-be a mechanic, under a car, l-living the dream.”

They both laughed at the image.

Then Joey perked up, eyes lighting. “A-and we’ll get a dog too. I love dogs. I-I live with my mom and s-she’s got three. Capone, Scooby and Kush. They’re s-so dumb. Total goofballs.”

D smiled, watching him. “I never had a dog.”

“W-what? Why not?”

“Didn’t have the time. Didn’t think I’d be around long enough to take care of one.”

Joey gave him a mock-scandalized look. “Well, I’ll take care of it. Y-you just have to pick the name.”

D was so overcome by how cute he looked right then—hood up around his messy blond hair, smiling like they weren’t on the run for their lives—he didn’t think, he just leaned in. One hand on the wheel, the other reaching across the seat, he tilted Joey’s chin up and kissed him.

Soft. Quick. But no mistaking the intention. He nipped Joey’s bottom lip affectionately then pulled away.

Joey sat frozen, staring at D like he’d just been hit with a bolt of lightning. Cheeks flushed pink, lips parted, green eyes shining. He was totally gaga.

And D’s pulse jumped.

Fuck.

He was suddenly getting hard and he swallowed determinedly and looked back at the road, jaw tight.

They had money now. Not a lot, but enough for a motel. Tonight, when they found a room, D was going to take his time with Joey. He’d only gotten a taste yesterday. Just a mouthful of skin and sound.

Tonight, he was going to devour him.

Joey shifted beside him, still staring at D like he was in a daze.

And D grinned to himself.

Yeah. They were gonna be just fine.

The sky was rusted purple, cracked with the last burning streaks of daylight when D pulled the car off the highway. The dash clock glowed 5:52 PM. They’d been driving for hours, crossing deeper into Appalachia. The food they’d grabbed at Walmart—those premade ham-and-cheese sandwiches and bruised apples—had disappeared hours ago.

Joey hadn’t said much in the last hour. But his stomach had. Loudly.

As they passed a billboard advertising Motel Haven – Free Wi-Fi! Clean Rooms! $49.99 a Night!, D caught Joey gazing at it with quiet hope and hunger.

"Alright," D muttered. "We’ll stop."

Joey brightened immediately.

They parked in front of the motel and D ran in to get them a room for the night. It took less than 10 minutes, but when D came back for Joey, the boy was gazing across the street at a fried chicken place—half lit sign, plastic booths, drive-thru full of semis and tired-looking locals. He made a soft sound of joy at the sight of it and D couldn’t help but smile.

“C’mon. You eat first. Then I get dessert.”

Joey snorted, blushing slightly as he got out of the car.

Inside, the place was warm and greasy, the smell of hot oil clinging to everything. Joey stepped up to the counter, scanning the overhead board with wide eyes, then pointed shyly. “U-uh, number… f-four, please.”

“Combo or just the meal?” the bored cashier, a girl with crazy acrylics, asked.

Joey hesitated. His lips moved, trying to decipher the small print. His brow furrowed.

“Combo,” D said smoothly, stepping in.

They slid into a sticky vinyl booth near the window, two paper trays full of steaming fried chicken and wedge fries between them. The place was mostly empty—just a tired trucker nursing a black coffee and the bored cashier picking at her nails behind the counter.

Joey lifted a chicken leg like it was wrapped in gold leaf, eyes shining. “T-this s-smells… so g-good.”

“Don’t inhale it just yet,” D said, standing suddenly.

Joey froze, halfway to his first bite. “W-what? Why?”

D came back a moment later with a black ballpoint pen and a paper placemat. He flipped the placemat over and dropped it between them with a smack. “Lesson time.”

Joey blinked. “H-huh? N-now?!”

“Yup,” D said. “Can’t have you ordering chicken by pointing at the wall forever.”

Joey flushed. “D-don’t make f-fun—”

“I’m not,” D cut in. “I’m proud of you. You did good today. You tried. Now we take the next step. ‘Sides, you’ll eat slower when you're learning,” D said, grinning like he was enjoying this way too much. “And I know for a fact you don’t chew when you're nervous.”

Joey glared at him with mock horror, already chewing.

“I pay attention,” D said smugly, then started writing out the alphabet in all caps. A, B, C, big blocky letters, evenly spaced. Then beneath them, the sounds. Ah, buh, cuh...

Joey leaned over, suspicious. “You wr-write l-like a s-serial killer.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

Joey laughed, soft and sweet. But then his expression shifted, nervousness creeping in like a draft under a door. He fidgeted with his straw.

D softened. “Hey. You’re not being tested. We’re just starting.”

Joey looked down at the paper. “I d-don’t even know how s-some of these sound on their o-own. Like… this one,” he tapped E, “it’s a v-very tricky letter.”

D chuckled. “Yeah. She’s a bitch. Makes at least three sounds. Start with the short one—eh like egg.”

“E-eh…” Joey repeated, lips forming slowly around the sound. He tried again. “Ehh-gg.” Then made a face. “I s-sound dumb.”

“You sound hot,” D murmured without thinking.

Joey turned pink to his ears.

They worked through A to M painstakingly, with Joey tripping over C (“Suh? K-kuh? W-why both?”), and nearly giving up at G. “I h-hate this letter. It’s… it’s g-g-greedy. It wants to b-be like J and K!”

“You’re assigning morality to the alphabet now?” D asked, laughing under his breath.

Joey jabbed a wedge fry at the paper. “Tell me I’m w-wrong.”

“You’re not,” D said seriously. “The alphabet’s full of traitors.”

It went on like that for about an hour. D guiding him gently. Joey trying so damn hard. His voice tripped and cracked, hands fiddling constantly with his straw wrapper or his hoodie strings, but he never once said, I quit. And D noticed every time he got one right, his eyes would dart up like a kid asking Did I do okay?

Every time they got a vowel to stick, D would tap the table. “That’s my boy.”

Joey would blush harder.

And when Joey got through all of them—A through Z—with only three screw-ups and two adorable pouting episodes, D leaned back, watching him like he was some sort of miracle.

Joey glanced over, catching the look. “W-what?”

“I just…” D reached up and brushed a lock of hair back from Joey’s forehead. “I think I’m gonna fall in love with you harder if you keep being this damn cute.”

Joey looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. “Y-you—what?”

And D kissed him. Right there. In the middle of the fast food joint. Leaned across the table and kissed the ever-loving hell out of him.

Joey’s hand curled in the front of D’s hoodie, mouth moving eagerly against his, their meals forgotten. He gasped softly against D’s thick, dominating lips and D felt his dick instantly get hard.

Somewhere to the side, the bored cashier made a loud ahem. One of the other workers muttered, “Damn, get a room.”

D pulled back, mouth flushed, eyes still locked on Joey. “We have one,” he said smugly. Then he grabbed the placemat, folding it into his pocket, and stood, tugging Joey up by the wrist. “Lesson’s over. Time for dessert.”

Joey squeaked. “But m-my biscuit—”

“I’ll buy you ten tomorrow.”

They fled the fried chicken joint to the sound of sarcastic applause from behind the counter.

D practically dragged Joey across the lot toward the motel and the second the door shut behind them, the world outside vanished.

Joey’s breath caught in his throat as D locked the door, turned, and just stood there for a beat — watching him. The room was dim, washed in the flicker of a cheap lamp beside the bed, the mattress still made, corners crisp, but not for long.

Joey stood frozen in the center of the room, arms stiff at his sides. His hoodie still smelled like fast food, and D swore he could hear his heart beating a mile a minute.

D stepped forward, slow and sure, his dark eyes burning with intention. His fingers caught the hem of Joey’s sweatshirt and with a little moan, Joey immediately raised his arms.

The hoodie came off over his head, quickly followed by his shirt. D’s hands were warm and reverent, not in a hurry. Just feeling, ghosting fingertips across pale, silky skin, taking in Joey’s slim, hairless body. The boy shivered, eyes darting with nerves, but he didn’t stop him. Not even when D sank to his knees and undid the drawstring on his sweatpants, tugging them down.

D’s mouth watered as he took in Joey’s sweet little cock. He was half hard and the shiny pink head bobbed just inches from his face. Humming softly with appreciation, he leaned in and kissed the excited tip.

Joey whimpered, his cock lurching in reaction. “D…”

Smirking, D rose, towering over Joey as he started to undress slowly under his wide-eyed stare. Joey’s pretty green eyes roamed over muscle, over the constellation of old scars and dangerous promise, but when D slithered out of his jeans, unveiling his big, veiny black cock Joey blushed furiously and frantically looked away—until D stepped close again and took his face in both hands.

Joey’s lips parted in nervous anticipation.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” D murmured. “You don’t even know.”

And then he kissed him, hard.

Joey gasped into it, stumbling backward as D pushed forward, and they collapsed onto the bed, bodies meeting in a tangle of heat and heart-pounding want.

D settled on top of Joey and straddled his hips. For a moment, he just hovered there, gazing down at the boy. Joey’s pretty green eyes were wide with amazement, cheeks flushed, blond hair askew. Then, his little pink tongue poked out to nervously wet his bottom lip and with a groan, D lunged forward and chased it back into his mouth.

Joey moaned and withered desperately below D as he was attacked with deep, open-mouthed kisses that quickly overwhelmed him. Trembling, his hand gripped onto D’s powerful biceps and his needy body arched into D’s with untrained urgency. D knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he focused on learning the curves of Joey’s soft lips, the taste of his hot little mouth. He held Joey’s face still and kissed him over and over, drinking in his helpless sounds, delighting in his every hesitant touch.

Suddenly, Joey pulled back with a wet gasp. “D!” His eyes slammed shut and he began to shake like a leaf.

D stroked Joey’s face and lips as he watched him tremble through an orgasm. He was patient, but his big cock, pressed hotly against Joey’s smooth belly, thrummed with desire. He wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

Joey’s eyes fluttered open and he gazed up at D in awe. “W-wow.”

“Wow, is right,” D chuckled deep in his chest and Joey’s face instantly filled with color. D lovingly stroked his red cheeks, totally endeared by the sight of him. He kissed the boy one more time, then rolled off and stretched out beside him.

Joey blinked at D curiously. His belly and chest were splattered with come but his pretty little cock was still totally erect and pointing toward the ceiling.

Smirking, D grabbed Joey’s hand and guided it to the mess on his belly. Joey’s nose wrinkled, but he got some on his fingers, his brow furrowing. He didn’t seem to know what was going on until D gently pulled his hand down between them and then his eyes widened as D urged his sticky fingers around his fat, throbbing shaft.

“I-it’s so big,” Joey whispered.

“Mmm,” D hummed. “You should get to know it…the feel of it, the taste,” he said and Joey flushed again, squeezing his fingers around D reflexively. “I’m going to teach you other things soon. How to use your mouth. How to take it inside your body. You’re going to love every minute of it.”

“Oh god…” Joey moaned, and slowly, he started to stroke his hand along D’s stiff shaft. Up and down. Up and down. His movements were shy and unsure, but his eyes tracked the action with a deep curiosity that D found enormously arousing.

He leaned in and claimed Joey’s lips again, kissing him slower than before, but Joey’s mouth was wide open this time and it quickly got wet. D licked the inside of Joey’s mouth, exploring every nook and cranny, sucked his sweet lips, stroked Joey’s tongue with his own. Saliva was everywhere, and soon both of them were moaning from the devastating intimacy of it.

And through it all, Joey continued to stroke D’s cock. He slowed a bit at times but never stopped. His warm fingertips slid along D’s rigid, pulsing shaft, squeezed around the dark, bulging cockhead, and teased the sensitive, veiny underside. His touch was worshipful and that alone drove D closer to the edge.

Still kissing Joey, he reached down and gathered the boy’s cock in his big, strong hand.

Joey gasped and immediately arched into D, his cock twitching against his palm and D began masturbating him with long, purposeful strokes. Joey whined a little, squeezing his own hand tighter around D and frantically speeding up his movements.

D laughed against Joey’s lips, pleased with the boy’s reaction. With his free hand, he brushed Joey’s hair back then pulled him in for another passionate kiss. They pulled each other off as their lips slid together desperately, tongues entwined, their hearts beating in sync.

It lasted a couple minutes like that, both of them gasping, their breaths coming quick and ragged. When Joey came a second time, the way he trembled and shook, the way he sounded—so utterly broken by it—D found himself following just moments later with a growl. He shot come all over Joey’s hand and chest, shuddering in the aftermath, but still kissing Joey wetly as they both came down from the incredible height they’d just reached, together.

For a few moments, they lay together in a peaceful, companionable silence. D listened as Joey’s breathing evened out. The boy had his eyes shut and a soft, secret little smile curled his kiss swollen lips.

Without really thinking about it, D swiped a finger along Joey’s chest, through the splatter of their combined ejaculation and with hooded eyes, he rubbed it gently along Joey’s bottom lip.

“Taste,” he murmured, and Joey’s sweet tongue slid out, brushing D’s retreating finger by accident. He blushed as he cleaned the come away then hummed softly.

“S-salty.”

“Mmm,” D agreed, then he leaned in and kissed Joey, slow and sweet, lingering just to enjoy the boy’s soft sounds.

They lazed around for about an hour, enjoying each other, the closeness.

The motel room was still dim, the quiet hum of the heater in the corner the only sound besides their breathing. D had cleaned them up with a towel from the bathroom, and now Joey was tucked against his chest beneath the scratchy comforter, one slender leg tangled with D’s.

Joey had gone quiet again.

His fingers played lightly over a scar on D’s shoulder, tracing the faded lines without thought. He’d been like that for a while now—soft, quiet, calm. But D could feel it: the tension in his belly, the way his breath caught every so often, like he was winding himself up for something.

Finally, Joey’s voice broke the silence, small and hesitant. “D... b-back at the chicken p-place... y-you said you loved me.”

D stilled. His arm tightened instinctively around Joey’s waist. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling like it might offer him a way out. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

Joey’s heart sank a little. “O-oh.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” D turned his head, forcing Joey to meet his eyes. “I just... it slipped out. You were sitting there with your little pink mouth and your greasy fingers and those goddamn lashes, and I don’t know, it just came out. I didn’t even think about it. Never said it to anyone before.”

Joey blinked at him, stunned. “N-never?”

D gave a low, humorless chuckle. “Never. Not a boyfriend. Not a friend. Not even my mom, not since I was a kid.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t think I had it in me, honestly. But then... well, you know what happened.”

Joey stared at him, lips slightly parted, and something in his eyes softened, glittered. He looked like he might cry.

“I’m not saying I’ve got this all figured out,” D went on, his voice rougher now, like every word was costing him. “But yeah. I’m falling for you, Joey. Fast and hard. And it scares the shit outta me.”

Joey looked down, face burning red, but a huge smile crept across his face despite the bashfulness. He buried his head in D’s chest and made a tiny noise that was part laugh, part sob.

D stroked his back gently, his heart thudding in his chest. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you’re still figuring it out.”

“I-it’s not that,” Joey mumbled. “I-I just... I never th-thought anyone would s-say that to me. Not like th-that. Not you.”

D pulled him tighter. “Well, I did. So now you gotta deal with that.”

Joey laughed wetly, still hiding his face.

Eventually, they peeled themselves out of bed for a shower. The water pressure was crap and the temperature fluctuated between lukewarm and scalding, but Joey made D laugh when he squawked under a burst of cold. D washed Joey’s hair for him and Joey scrubbed D’s back, both of them half-hard the entire time, but too tired to act on it again—at least for now.

They toweled off, slipped back under the motel sheets, and curled up close, skin warm and bare beneath the blankets.

Joey rested his head on D’s chest, his fingers playing with the short hair there. “Th-this is nice,” he whispered.

D kissed the top of his head. “Yeah. It really is.”

As Joey drifted off in his arms, D stared at the ceiling again, wide awake now—but not from nerves or fear.

His chest ached.

His heart was full.

He didn’t know what kind of life waited for them after all this. But whatever it was, he was in. For Joey.

For them.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he actually felt hopeful.

In the morning, sunrise peeked through the threadbare motel curtains, casting soft golden stripes across the rumpled bed. It lit up the cheap wood paneling and the cigarette burns in the polyester bedspread. A faint chirp of birdsong filtered through the window screen — a gentle sound, almost too peaceful to be real.

D stirred first. His body was stiff from the narrow bed, but the boy draped against him was warm and soft and perfect. Joey slept with one arm curled over D’s chest, his golden hair messy, cheek squished adorably into D’s shoulder.

D took a slow breath as he took him in. He could’ve stayed like that forever.

But habit didn’t let him.

D rolled out of bed quietly, pulled on his jeans, and padded barefoot across the thin carpet to peek through the slit in the curtains.

And his stomach plunged.

A West Virginia state trooper was in the lot, walking slow circles around their silver Nissan. His thumb lifted to the mic on his shoulder, then he glanced down at a notepad, clearly comparing numbers.

Shit. He must’ve run the plates.

D’s pulse spiked. “Joey,” he said sharply, already moving.

“Huh—? D?” Joey sat up, blinking blearily, rubbing his face. “Wha—”

“No time.” D was already pulling on his shirt and stuffing their burner phone and wallet into his back pocket. “There’s a cop out there. He’s checking our plates. He’s gonna call it in.”

Joey shot upright, fear instantly chasing the sleep from his eyes. “T-they—they kn-know we st-stole it?”

“Yeah. Probably from the Walmart camera,” D muttered. “I used my card before we grabbed it. Shit!”

Joey scrambled into his jeans and hoodie, already breathing hard. “What d-do we do?”

“We run.”

They both yanked on their shoes—laces forgotten—and D checked the bathroom window. It was narrow, but it was their only shot. He cracked it open, shoved the brittle screen out with a snap, and motioned for Joey to go first.

“Climb through. Fast.”

Joey hesitated only a second before crawling out feet first. He landed with a grunt in the grass behind the building. D followed a moment later, booted feet crunching on gravel as he hit the ground and grabbed Joey’s arm.

They bolted down the back alley, ducking behind a rusted-out dumpster just as a voice crackled over the cop’s radio—too far to make out words, but loud enough to confirm their worst fear: backup was coming.

They didn’t wait. D yanked Joey into a run again, sprinting across a narrow strip of weeds and into the quiet town beyond.

This place wasn’t like Cleveland. No graffiti. No trash-strewn alleys. Just small, clapboard houses painted cheerful colors, each with a porch swing or a bird feeder. The smell of cut grass and fresh dirt was everywhere. Dogs barked in backyards. The hum of a leaf blower drifted from somewhere nearby.

The streets were too open, too exposed. They darted between homes, sticking close to fences, using bushes for cover when they could. Behind them, sirens howled, bouncing off the quiet hills.

D dragged Joey behind a parked RV and peeked down the road—saw several cruisers flying down the main road with their lights flashing.

“They’re setting up a roadblock,” he muttered.

Joey’s breath hitched. “W-why—why? They—th-they th-think we’re just car th-thieves, r-right?”

“Yeah,” D said, but unease twisted in his gut. “Yeah, I—I guess. Maybe they’re taking it serious. Small town like this... not used to real crime.”

Joey’s eyes searched his. “W-we—we’re not w-wanted for—”

D didn’t let him finish. “Let’s not find out.”

They slipped back onto the side streets and kept going, putting distance between them and the motel. Sweat dripped down their backs as the sun climbed higher. Joey huffed and puffed behind him, clearly winded, but he didn’t complain.

Soon, the paved roads turned to gravel and the houses gave way to wide open fields. They were leaving town now, heading toward what looked like woods or maybe farmland.

That’s when they saw it.

Just ahead, an old pickup sat at the edge of the road, steam curling from under the hood. An elderly man in a red trucker cap was bent under it, muttering to himself, while his wife waved a faded paper map like a fan.

D froze, scanning instinctively for threats—but the couple looked harmless. Just some locals.

Joey pointed. “I—I think I c-can help them. Th-that l-looks like a—a r-radiator hose. I can see the steam f-from here.”

D gave him a hard look. “You sure?”

Joey nodded. “I—it’s—it’s n-not a big fix.”

After a beat, D let out a breath and motioned. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

They approached slowly, hands out.

“Y’all need help?” Joey called.

The old man looked up, squinting. “Depends. You know engines?”

Joey jogged up. “Y-yeah. A little.”

In a matter of minutes, he had the hood propped, the radiator cap off, and was explaining the problem. D watched in awe—Joey was confident here. Smart. His stutter almost disappeared when he was talking engines.

“Hell,” the man muttered. “Boy knows his stuff.”

Ten minutes later, the truck roared back to life with a hacking cough.

The old woman clapped her hands. “Praise the Lord! You boys need a ride somewhere?”

D glanced back toward town. He could still hear the echo of distant sirens. “Yeah. Actually... we really do.”

“C’mon then,” she said, waving them toward the cab. “We live a ways out. Ain’t much, but you can lay low for a spell. You can work for your supper.”

Joey looked at D with a nervous grin.

D grinned back, just as surprised. “Looks like we just got ourselves a farm job.”