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Little Runaway
He had been sitting there for hours. I remember seeing him when I got to work that afternoon.
The benches out front were meant for customers, but we often had the homeless, drunks and junkies using them. It was my job to kick them out before the owner found them. Most of the "problem people" avoided the place while I was working because I had a reputation for being a dick. I had no problem telling customers what I thought of their attitudes, and I had even fewer problems kicking people off the property. Sure, it meant losing some business, but we often lost more business with addicts and the homeless begging for food and money constantly.
This particular night had been a cold and wet one. I was working alone and the place was dead (just the way I liked it). As I looked out the window, hoping the rain would stop, I was the kid sitting up on the bench. It was pretty clear that he had fallen asleep.
A part of me felt bad for him. The winter weather was no place for anyone, let alone a kid. My boss would've been on my ass for letting him be here as long as he was. She was very much against any kind of loitering, which I absolutely agreed with, but there was something about this kid....
I got up from my stool behind the counter and went out front. The kid was about 5'10" (178 cm), which was a few inches shorter than myself. He was stocky in build, with messy blonde hair. My guess is that he hadn't been homeless for very long. His clothes were dirty but in good condition, otherwise. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in a couple of days and slept in his filthy clothes. He looked at me with sad, puppy dog eyes, which were a light blue.
"You know you can't sit out here, right?" I asked, with my usual, "this is my attempt at being nice" tone, which was very much like that old MTV character, Daria.
"I know," he said, sounding defeated.
I paused and then said, "Get in here, then." I couldn't help it. I had a soft spot for chubby boys. Once in proper lighting, I could tell he couldn't have been older than 15. He still had that innocence about him that only youth provides. "How old are you?"
"18," he replied. I could tell he was lying. I spent a good chunk of my life carding kids like him and never once failed a sting. I let the lie slide for now, hoping he wouldn't try to buy anything age restricted.
I had him sit behind the counter just out of sight of the cameras. My coworkers and I often took naps in the blind spot, so I knew the kid would be safe. I made him some hot chocolate and microwaved some food we had in the freezer section. He said thanks and wolfed it all down. "So, what's your name?"
He paused a little too long for me to think he was debating whether he could trust me. "Devon," he lied again. Clearly this kid didn't want to be discovered or found.
"What were you doing sleeping on my bench? Shouldn't you be home worrying about graduating or something?"
"I got kicked out," Devon said.
"Mind if I ask why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay," I said, pulling back on the questions.
We mostly sat in silence. Devon asked for a phone charger, more cocoa, and the bathroom, but mostly, he nodded off a lot. Up close I could tell he had been well taken care of at home. He didn't have the usual weather-worn look that most homeless people have. His skin was flawless, meaning that he was still taking care of himself despite living on the streets. His shoes were also pretty new though dirty with mud. I did my best not to stare but couldn't help it. He looked cute and sweet, when he wasn't brooding or looking defeated.
11 o'clock came quickly enough. I served my last customer and locked the door behind her. I turned to see Devon standing right behind me with his backpack. "Leaving?" I asked.
"You're closing, aren't you?"
"I am, but you don't have to leave just yet, unless you want to go." He looked around me and out the door. The rain had turned to snow, and Devon looked even more dower than before. He dropped his head and tears started to fall. "C'mon. Sit back down until I leave." I guided him back to his seat and went about closing the store; it took me about thirty minutes. I grabbed my things and led us both out the front door. I locked everything and turned to see Devon walking down the wintery sidewalk towards downtown.
"Hey!" I called out. "Where do you think you're going? My place in the opposite direction."
Devon stopped and seemed to consider what I had said. It only took a couple of seconds before he was walking back towards me. We walked to my apartment in silence. I wanted to put an arm around him, to hold him close, but I wasn't sure how he would've taken it.
I lived in a small studio apartment about a mile from where I worked. By the time we walked in, we were both shivering. I closed the door behind me and told Devon to remove his shoes, as I had done. He eyeballed my place and probably came to the same conclusion I had that it was probably a converted hotel from back in the day.
Devon handed me his jacket, which I noted was very thin and light. He had on a hoodie under it, but otherwise wore a thin t-shirt. I like to keep my place warm, which seemed to please the boy a lot. When he took off his shoes, I could tell he needed to clean his feet a lot better, as the smell hit me in the face like a fist. Devon seemed to have noticed my disgust as he apologized, adding that his shoes weren't very waterproof.
"That's fine," I said. "How about you take a shower and change into some clean clothes. I have fresh towels in the bathroom."
"I don't have any other clothes." The look of embarrassment and pain nearly killed me.
I walked up to him, grabbed his shoulders and said, "Okay. I think I have some shorts you can wear, and I'll wash your clothes. I have a small load I can get done as well."
"You don't need to do that," he said, looking up at me with more tears in his eyes.
"I don't need to, but I want to, okay?"
He only nodded and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. I went to my dresser and pulled out a pair of basketball shorts for him. I was thinner than him, so I hoped they weren't too small on him. I knocked on the door and opened it a little. Devon had stripped completely and had his back to me, as he bent over to turn on the shower.
My eyes went to his sparsely hairy body and bubble butt; however, what really drew my attention were the old bruises on his body. His back, hips and sides were covered in them. I cleared my throat, causing Devon to jump and turn around. He looked scared out of his mind.
"Sorry," I said, as softly and assuringly as I could without crying myself. "Here are the shorts I promised. If you could just put your clothes in here, I'll get to the laundry."
Devon didn't bother trying to hide his nudity from me, which I took as a sign of trust. In return I avoided checking him out. He seemed vulnerable enough without a 30-year-old gawking at him. I turned on the exhaust fan, as he got into the shower, closing the curtain behind him, and I made sure to close the door behind me.
I was glad for the cold air, hoping it would kill my hard-on before I got back to my room. Unfortunately, the laundry room was closed. I dug through the basket and threw out Devon's socks. I had plenty I could exchange them for in the morning. I got back before he was done and put his shoes just outside my front door. If they got stolen, I would buy him a new pair the next day, lending him a pair in the meantime.
I had lit some incense and started to heat up some leftovers I made over the weekend. "I hope you're hungry," I said, placing a bowl of hot, homemade, chicken noodle soup on my small table.
"Thanks," he said, though the look on his face was all I needed. It was the first time I had seen him look happy. I got myself a bowl and sat across from him. He had good manners, which I appreciated. I told him he could have as much as he wanted, since I had never been able to make small meals. "Why's that?" He asked.
"I come from a large family," I replied. "Three brothers, three sisters, plus my parents and my grandfather. We just never made single-serve dinners, so I'm glad I finally have someone to share it with."
"It's really good," he offered.
"Thanks," I said with pride. I'm my own worst critic, so it's nice to hear someone compliment my cooking.
I waited till Devon was full and warm before I said, "So, how about you tell me how you ended up on the streets? I know you said you got kicked out, but you don't seem like a kid who does anything wrong."
Devon looked down at the table, as if ashamed, and I wondered how bad he really was, after all. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Yeah," I replied, and offered nothing more.
"My dad went through my phone and found some pics. He got mad at me, hit me and told me to get out of his house."
I had known several perverts in my day, so I imagined things like kiddie porn to secret pics of a sister. "What were the pictures of?"
A tear fell from Devon's eye, and I could see the pain on his face. He didn't want to tell me, but he also needed to tell someone. "Me and my boyfriend."
"Oh," I said. Devon looked up at me, trying to gauge what I meant by that. "Sorry, I'm gay, too, so don't worry about that. I'm sorry that you had to go through that."
"Thanks," Devon said, wiping his face.
"Can I give you a hug?"
"Please," he said. We stood and I pulled him into me. His body shook, pouring every emotion he had been bottling up. I stroked his soft hair and whispered assurances, while holding him tight.
I let him break our hug. He pulled away and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to break like that."
I cupped his face in my hands and titled his face up towards mine. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong."
He gave me a weak smile and hugged me again, this time without the tears.
Devon did the dishes and put everything away as a way of saying thank you. As he worked, I took the opportunity to check him out. I guessed he was about 200 lbs (91 kg). He had largish feet, telling me that he wasn't done growing yet, only solidifying my belief that he wasn't 18. The shorts I gave him were a little snug, which got me hard when he bent down and turned at just the right angle, exposing the bulge inside.
It was about one in the morning when we both started yawning. Devon looked around, and I could tell he was looking for somewhere to sleep. As I said before, I lived in a small, studio apartment. My bed took up most of the living space. He didn't have any bedding with him, and I had nothing to spare.
I said, "You can take the bed. I can sleep in the desk chair," which was by the window.
"No, please, take your bed. I can't kick you out of your bed after you've been so nice to me."
"I don't mind. Seriously. You need a good night's sleep after everything you've been through."
Devon sighed and stood his ground. "Actually, can you sleep next to me?"
My heart raced at the words. "Are you okay with that? I don't want you to feel like I asked you to stay the night for anything nefarious."
"I'm okay with it. If I got that kinda vibe from you, I wouldn't have hung out in the store as long as I did."
"Okay, if you're sure." I took off my clothes down to my boxers and pulled back the bedding. I looked over at Devon who looked at the bed awkwardly. "Something wrong?" I asked.
"Um, these shorts are rather tight. Do you have something else I can wear?"
Frankly, those were legitimately the largest pair I had and I don't wear sweat pants. "Sorry, buddy, but that's all I have that might fit you. You could put your underwear back on, I suppose."
He looked at the basket near the door, and we both seemed to conclude that they were way too dirty to wear again, even for a night. His voice softened and he sheepishly asked, "Would it be okay if I slept naked?"
"I don't care," I replied, hoping I didn't get instantly hard. "Whatever makes you comfortable. As long as you're here, my house is your house...as meek as it is."
"He gave a small smile before sitting on the bed. Devon climbed under the blankets and shimmied around till he pulled the basketball shorts off, tossing them to the floor next to the bed. His cheeks were a little rosy from blushing. He looked so cute. The second I covered up and turned off the light, I could feel Devon's body heat. My cock sprang to life. Normally, I jerked off to go to sleep, but I knew I couldn't do it that night. Even if Devon were actually 18, it still felt inappropriate. I had also slept naked since I was 19, so I wasn't used to sleeping with clothes on.
To distract myself, I thought back to the conversation with Devon at dinner. I looked over and saw that he was still awake. "Hey," I said, "can I ask another question?"
"Sure," he said, looking up at the ceiling.
"Why aren't you living with family or friends?"
"My family is uber religious, so they won't let me live with them till I say I'm straight, and I don't have any friends who can take me in."
"What about your boyfriend?"
"He dumped me a few days ago."
"Sorry," I said. "Why would he be so fucking stupid?"
Devon gave a slight grin and said, "He wanted to have sex, and I told him I wasn't ready. We got into a fight, and, when I told him it wasn't going to happen, he dumped me."
"What a dumbass, piece of shit," I said. I reached out and slipped my hand into Devon's lacing out fingers. "Well, it's his loss for sure. He's stupid to think he can do better than you."
"Really?" Devon asked, as he squeezed my hand.
"Really. I've only known you a couple of hours and can tell you were the best thing in that relationship. If anything, he did you the favor. Now, you can find someone who will love and take care of you the way you deserve."
"Thanks." Devon released my hand and slid up against me.
I put my arm around him, as he rested his head on my bare chest. I could feel his naked body against me. My dick cried out, wanting to come out and play. But that wasn't the right thing to do. This kid was in pain. He had suffered, and all he wanted was some validation, acceptance and love. He stood up for himself when it came to his choices about sex. Sure, I could've manipulated the situation to satisfy my horny dick, but I wasn't that guy. I hated guys like that.
I leaned my head down, kissed the top of his head, and continued to hold him till he was fast asleep. I waited longer, before going into the bathroom to jerk off. I may be a gentleman, but I was also hyper sexual. My mind played out the scenario that would've gotten this kid to give me his virginity. Imaging what his plump ass would taste like, how the feel of his cut cock cuming down my throat and how tight his ass would be around my cock made me explode.
I got back to bed, and needing to sleep, I pulled off my boxers. Devon had turned away from me, so I slid up to him, pulling him against me in a spooning position. I kissed the back of his head and closed my eyes.
"Are you naked?" He whispered.
"Yes," I replied. "If that bothers you, I can put my underwear back on."
"It's fine," he said, wriggling his body closer.
I held him tightly and fell asleep almost instantly. We've slept like that every night since, especially three years later on his 18th birthday.
The End.