That night he found Beau walking down the bleak streets he knew exactly what he was doing. Watching him in the interrogation room, his eyes coveting the way that cigarette easily slid between his lips. He knew what Beau’s night time occupation was—he’s always known.
Richard wasn’t the Police Commissioner for nothing.
This obsession was dangerous, he knew that. If anybody ever found out his reputation would be ruined, livelihood destroyed all for some hillbilly-kid with a tight ass and a talented mouth.
Just a quick taste, a lick, a suck, a f**** and then he’ll be cured. The demon will succumb, Richard is sure of it. He just needs to scratch this itch, quench his thirst and then things will fall back into place.
He’ll stop daydreaming about those eyes, that hair and that boy.
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J.K Jones is a York University Graduate with a B.A in Sociology, also a TESOL certificate for teaching English as a second Language. Literature is in my veins and the words pour out of my blood.