Abel Edwards

His hands were finally free to not be afraid of touch, fingertips grazing against the side of Abel’s abdomen, slowly curling around to his waist and the small of his back. “My intentions?” he repeated, voice stark as his breath caught in his throat. He was ready to erupt, even now. “I thought I would seduce you with my wiles. Maybe rob you of some cans of beans and whatever I could dig out of your wallet while you slept.” Any other time, such candidness would have done him no favours, but the ferocity with which Abel seemed to react towards him, Kip figured he could take the risk. “But then, just now, you called me yours. And now the second part of that plan’s gone out the window in favour of this.”

More words escaped Kip's lips, but Abel had no intention of answering them. His mouth had other plans. He kissed around each of Kip's nipple before teething one softly, flicking it with his tongue and pulling on it with his teeth. Once he had sufficiently serviced one, he moved to the other. "Yes," Abel said, finishing the second nip and moving down to kiss around Kip's navel. "Tonight's my usual night to visit the club. I figured I'd either shag you tonight, or go to the club afterwards." 

Abel's fingers wrapped around the waistband of Kip's trousers. "Substitute?" Abel chuckled and unbuttoned Kip's pants. "This is exactly what I want. You are the real thing, baby." Abel grabbed the zipper of Kip's pants with his teeth and pulled it down, revealing the bulge of underwear underneath. "You've been hiding this from me all night? That's not very nice."

When he felt the tingle of a whisper in his ear, a chill ran down his back. Now it was his turn to make an actual decision. Not teasing, or playing, or pushing buttons. Kip knew what his answer was going to be, it was just a matter of coming up with the courage for it. This was different than meeting somebody at the club, where you knew what you were getting yourself into. Erring on the side of caution, in a situation like this one, might have been a good idea. He was a street kid. That was always a good idea. 

Hot in the face, he dug himself further down into the cushioning, still squirming from the tickle on his earlobe. “Were those your intentions this whole time?” he questioned, voice weak. His own restraint was lacking. That he lasted this long was nothing short of a miracle. “Lure a kid out here to get some nookie?”

Abel opened his mouth before Kip's thumb left his bottom lip, and he pushed it into his mouth. A small pop could be heard when he pulled away. "Stud?" He asked with feigned surprise. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

He pushed himself to his knees and turned Kip around under him so that they were facing each other. "I'm sorry, Kip, but my patience has run dry. I'm afraid I'm going to lose control here in a minute." Abel smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on the prominent collar bone of Kip's chest. "I've wanted..." He placed a kiss on Kip's neck. "Those lips..." Another on his chin. "On mine..." Another on his nose. "All night." Abel pressed his lips into Kip's, letting out a small sigh of relief as he finally got what he wanted.

He walked into the room slowly, taking it in. It was about the size his parents’ room had been, but far cleaner, less crowded. They hadn’t grown up terribly poor, but it was a big Irish family cramped in a city house. As he took a step further, his foot caught the door to shut it behind him, letting the wind momentum carry it further on its hinges. “Think I mighta heard a thing or two,” he said, purposefully cryptic, smirking crookedly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You really sleep in this whole thing by your lonesome? No gals or nothing?” He smirked. Apparently, he’d decided to keep up the charade. “That’s a pity. A fella could fit two, three other people in here if they was small enough.”

Turning over, he crawled further up the bed, making a show of it. As he slid down onto his stomach, he turned his head in Abel’s direction. He stretched out, arching his back, digging his belly into the sheets, his rear sticking up in the air. A moan escaped his lips, not feeling any shame for laying in another man’s bed without permission. Now that he knew the man’s intentions, he could be as brazen and dirty as he pleased. 

Kip lied down on his bed, his rear end sticking in the air. Abel felt like a tiger who hadn't eaten for weeks, and he was about to pounce on it when Kip asked another question. "Can't say I know what a lomi-whatever is, but I can give you a massage, if that's what you're after." Abel smirked. Whether or not the man had been to the Back Door club or not, his intentions were clear.

Abel placed his hand on the small of Kip back and pushed his behind back onto the bed. Keeping a hand there, Abel twisted himself and straddle the younger man's hips. Without a word, Abel pushed the palms of his hands into the man's flesh, looking for the tights spots. His hand pushed and pulled on the muscle in front of him, and he shifted his hips every so often to keep the younger man in place.

He made to sit back down before Abel caught the fold in the fabric of his pants, bunching at the button, doing his best to hide it as the cushion rode up, only further tightening the slacks. “Nah, you didn’t—you messed nothin’ up,” he said, tilting his head down, now purposely avoiding eye contact. “The trick was gonna be, you shuffle the cards, I already pocketed the one what you picked. It’s right here.” Without any flourish or show, he pulled the king of diamonds from the pocket. “These cards are good, ‘cause they’re old, you just gotta lick ‘em and they stick to anythin’. See?”

His tongue poked out, dabbing the centre of the card, and he reached, leaning to the point of toppling over, pressing the back of it against Abel’s chest, side of his hand grazing the man’s pectoral, quickly rescinding it, stuffing it in his lap to hide the growing fervour. 

"Was gonna… was gonna stick it to my forehead as I held the deck down low, like here." He bent his arms at an odd angle, still trying to conceal himself, flipping one card over at a time. "You’d think I was doin’ the trick wrong, so would the whole crowd — they’d be lookin’ at your big, clumsy hands, makin’ sure you weren’t a cheat and that we aren’t in cahoots with each other."

"A tour?" Abel asked, glancing around at his place. It wasn't that big, but then again, he had no idea of Kip's upbringing, other than he probably grew up in the depression. "Sure. Follow me." 

Abel stood. "This is the livin' room. Over there is the kitchen, but it don't get much use, to be honest. If I didn't hate doin' the dishes so much, I might cook more." He turned and walked down the hall. "That's the bathroom. Door to the garage." He said with a nod in each direction. "Down here is where I keep all my receipts for car parts and customers, and..." Abel swallowed as he opened the door at the end of the hall, suddenly forgetting how he left his room. "This is my room."

The worst part was that he knew this was all being done to get a rise out of him. Somebody was playing his own game against him. His mind wandered a split second, thinking of people who might want some sort of revenge against him. The list was too long to count. 

He eyed Abel, clamping his mouth shut. If this was his punishment for being a no-good crook, then he’d take the hellfire over pearly gates any day.

"That’s easy stuff," he said, forcing a small smile, lips tingling as they pulled taut. "It’s all about… about leadin’ the eye somewhere else. Misdirectin’ the focal point." Kip braved the opportunity to stand, adjusting the waist of his trousers to keep himself modest.

He took the deck and shuffled it as commanded. Or he tried to, and the cards flew across the couch. "Ah, sorry. Told you they always flew outta my hands." Abel shifted to his knees to grab the cards, and he took his time to give Kip a view. He didn't usually bottom, but it didn't mean he didn't have an ass to show off.

He gathered the cards up one by one, resting on his elbows so his backed arched nicely. He could tell the band of his trousers had slipped just past the band of his underwear. He wanted to sneak a look at Kip to see if he got a reaction, but it was too risky. So he kept his pose, hoping Abel was getting just as much out of it as he was.

There were a million things going on in Kip’s head right that moment. What he was going to eat for dinner tonight. Where he would set up camp next, somewhere to keep him out of the elements before winter sank in too deeply. How a fella could get his chest quite so toned, and his arms quite so sculpted. He looked like a Hellenic god. Something out of one of the pulps he swiped from the news stands. 

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t allowed. His brain never got this flustered, stumbled over things that came so easily to him usually. His throat felt suddenly very dry, and his pants tight against his thigh. Kip moved quickly to the sofa, keeping himself a couple of feet away from Abel, angling himself to face him — which almost meant getting a better view of that chest. “Well, I—uh—I—um…”

"No need to be shy, Kip," Abel said, shoving the other playfully. "Just me. And I'm the student here, remember?" Now Abel was just being mean. Whether the other was getting flustered because of the lack of shirt or because some other reason, Abel wasn't sure. But with the way things were going, it didn't look like Abel would be goin' to the club tonight after all.

"I'm a pretty big guy," Abel replied, stretching his hand out for a moment before twisting it into a fist. "And I ain't too good with cards. Always fly outta my hands. I got an idea," Abel sat up and twisted himself to face Kip. "Teach me how you fool people. How you get 'em to look somewhere else while you're doin' your tricks."

He drew some water into the basin, scrubbing off the dried, chipping paint, using his disposed shirt as a towel and a cloth. He stripped off his tee, the back of it sticking to him from being worn all day beneath the long-sleeved shirt, stretching his muscles and spreading his shoulders as he felt the cool air against his skin.

The creeping thought that he was going to get murdered crossed his mind. He thought about the knife in his back pocket, that it likely wouldn’t work against a guy as big as Abel. But he was being crazy. Something told him that it was all going to be okay. 

Once he’d gotten most of the pain off, the sweater was practically ruined, and he resorted to using the tee. Two shirts down in one day, and he didn’t exactly had many of those to start off with. He’d need to buy another, maybe find one from the donation centre, something not too stained. 

His thoughts trailed off as he got inside. "Yea, there's some-" Abel stopped when he turned the corner, finding the boy shirtless. His imagination wasn't wrong. "Sorry, kid. Looks like today's laundry day." Abel smiled, knowing full well that laundry day was yesterday. "But don't worry about it," Abel said, unbuttoning his own shirt and tossing it aside. "Just us guys, right?"

Abel brushed past Kip, letting his abdomen brush against his shoulder. "Lemme just clean off all this dirt, and we can get started, yea?" Abel chuckled to himself as he splashed water on his face. This was turning out to be too easy.

He chose to pull his shirt off, wearing a plain white cropped shirt beneath the sweater he wore to keep warm, using it to shield his hands with. His arm hair rose in the wind, grateful to close the door behind him, scrunching himself into the seat for warmth. 

Putting the belt over his lap, he cinched it into place, feeling on top of the world for a brief moment. His parents had never had need of a car, his pops using one of the ones owned by the company he worked for whenever he was on business — and the children were never allowed to go near it. He’d never had the opportunity to sit in one. It was possibly more exciting that the destination. 

The car started with a nice purr, and it put a smile on Abel's face bigger than the ones before. He almost didn't know the tight white shirt Kip was donning. Almost. Abel pulled the car out of the parking lot and got on the road, stealing small glances at Kip as secretly as he could.

The cloth was almost see through, and Abel could tell there was toned body underneath. The shirt was just thin enough to let Abel's imagination run wild. Abel glanced sideways at the boy. What he wouldn't give to-

"A gal?" Abel asked, his thoughts being suddenly interrupted. "No. Haven't had one since I left Oklahoma. Too much hassle. I get all I need at the-" Abel stopped himself before the word club left his lips. "Shop. Cars are all I need, really." Cars, and their handsome owners. Mostly their handsome owners.

"I know what you mean, Kip. The meat's the only thing I'm interested in." Abel chuckled and gave the boy another wink. Sure, he was skatin' on thin ice. But if the boy found out and wanted to tell someone, he had more than enough to bribe his pockets.

But with a smile like that, he was willing to chance it.

"I think I’d be peachy with it," he said, wrinkling his nose, trying to hide his excitement. "Might need to borrow your tub for a minute, wash this stuff off my face — worried that if I leave it on too long, it might get stuck."

Abel watched Kip collect his things. Or rather, he stared hungrily at the boy. Stared, watched. Same thing. "No. I live just a few blocks down south, actually. They're a little bit different. But my girl is top of the line. She's a smooth ride." Abel smiled and placed the palm of his hand on the shorter man's back, pushing him softly to lead him to his car. "Don't got to worry about that, Kip. I'm a mechanic. Got all the money I need. I should be more worried about you trickin' me out of my money."

He leaned down on the table, keeping his gaze pointed up towards the man’s face. It was far too easy to stray and catch himself starting at a crotch or a backside, but the mistakes were kept to a minimum so long as he held concentration.

"That’s a shame," he said, voice teasing, “‘cause I can only do tonight."

Abel glanced down at the man's hand, unsure whether to take it or not. After a moment of staring, though, Abel grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. "No, no. Pleasure's all mine."

Abel checked his watch. He had a few hours before nightfall. He could always hit the club now, but the pickings were always slim during the day. "Tell you what," Abel started, crossing his arms and offering the man his blindingly white smile. "I can do tonight after all. But I have a request. You see, those plans I thought I had fell through just a minute ago." It was an obvious lie. Abel wanted Kip to know he was lying. It was a hint of sorts - he wanted Kip to know that he wasn't the only one able to turn the tables. "But now I, ah... I left the lights on. Silly me. Can't have that bill running up on me. My request is simple. Come with me to my place. Teach me there."

He liked this guy. Abel, he called himself. Biblical name. Probably a good, catholic boy with more idealism than sense. Easy pickings, usually. Kip just couldn’t find it in his heart to scam him any more than he already had. “No can do, sheik,” he said, liberal with the winks tonight, giving him another with a curve of his lips. “If I spent the whole night here repeatin’ the same one, nobody’d have any fun but you an’ me. An’ we’d have a nightcap of you believin’ in magic, and me makin’ more money out of thin air than the good God’ll allow.”

His focus dropped almost entirely from the rest of the crowd, most of them already dispersing as the line for the Ferris wheel began moving again. “Tell you what, though,” he said, bowing his head to collect the tenner, pushing the Lincoln back towards the man, dimples on his cheeks. “I give private lessons, if a fella’s so inclined.”

However, the mysterious silver man took the tenner from Abel and handed him back his five. "Lessons? You mean trickster lessons? Ah, that ain't-" Abel stopped himself, suddenly realizing that, though he was clumsy and probably a poor candidate for lessons, he'd be able to spend more time with the stranger.

When the other admitted that the tenner was a fake, Abel had a moment of dual sanctification and disappointment. He studied the man again, noticing this time that he looked much more innocent under that makeup than he did before. And those lips were at it again. Abel felt a shiver run down his spine when the man's tongue darted out and licked them. 

The younger man introduced himself as Abel with a steady hand, leading Frederick to accept the pleasantry. “Frederick Voss, and yes, I do recall having car trouble a week or so ago. Now that you mention it, that mug of yours seems awfully familiar. Not everyday that you come across somebody as handsome as yourself,” he said, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

It was also impossible for Frederick to forget the man’s ruggedly muscled body that was on display for the slightest of seconds when he took his car in for an inspection, but Frederick wouldn’t bring that up into conversation just yet. If things went according to plan, he’d get to see much more of that physique later in the night.

"Oklahoma," Abel said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Not much to tell. Grew up in the country. Took care of some horses from time to time. Eventually, though, I got interested in engines. Not many people have cars out there, so I moved here. Got a job pretty quick and now I help service good lookin' men like yourself. Not a bad job, if I do say so myself." 

Abel finished his drink and waved at the bartender for another. He didn't plan on getting drunk, but he at least wanted to be buzzed enough to lose his inhibitions. The bartender handed him another glass, and he tipped it slightly in thanks before downing half the glass.

"Of course you’ll get it back, big fella," he said, shooting him a wink. "Handsome or not, you know half as well as I do that these poor folk here, they’re down on their luck, working hard for every last dollar, and we’ll start you off easy t’night — you give me a fiver, and I’m going to double that investment.”

With one hand, reached for the bill on the table, making something of a spectacle of it, speaking as he did, to better conceal his free hand going into his pocket, palming a ten dollar bill, folded into eights, in the crook of his finger. “What’s your name, there?” he asked, still smiling, and now genuinely curious. Anybody who made jabs about their attractiveness to a strange man they’d met at the carnival had to be of some interest to him. “Don’t like giving out money to complete strangers.”

As he awaited the answer, he placed his hands on either side of the given bill, pulling it taut, carefully slipping the folded sawbuck under his thumb, concealed by the thick paper of the Lincoln. “Now, if you’ll watch closely, you’ll bare witness to an amazing feat of magic — the money multiplier!”

Revealing his left hand to be empty, he replaced it and folded the bill together, leveraging the sawbuck from his right thumb to his left, snapping it straight and then showing his right hand to be completely empty. Once the illusion had been made, he folded the bill over again, pinching the end together, then folded it a third time, into a quarter of its original size. He looked the man in the eye, another wink to him, before turning his attention to the crowd. “Presto! Change-o!”

He craned his head forward, the visibly marked ‘5’ still facing the crowd. Some had come closer to see better, looking disappointed. “It usually works, I—” he mumbled, playing an act, narrowing his eyes. He shook the bill, leaning in as though listening to something. He shook the folded bill again. And again. On the fourth go, he let slip the second piece of tender, watching the wind lift it over the table, down to the man’s feet. “Mind picking that up for me and telling the crowd what it is?” he asked, gesturing towards the ten-dollar bill. 

The man began his trick, showing one hand and then the other, trying to fool the crowd that he had nothing in his hands. But Abel knew better... He didn't necessarily see anything, but he knew there was something there. Suddenly, the man unfolded the bill to show the crowd. "How did you- wait. Nothing happened." Abel said excitedly before realizing it was still the same five. "Your trick failed, trick master."

Noticing the man look flustered when his trick didn't work, Abel straightened his back and frowned slightly. He didn't mean to embarrass the guy. Abel was lost in his own thoughts when the man spoke up, asking him to pick something up. "Hm?" Abel looked down at his feet and noticed a small triangle. He picked it up and began unfolding it.

Sure enough, the bill that was once a five had doubled, and Abel eyed the man suspiciously. "But I watched..." He muttered, studying the man to find the missing five. He stood silent for a moment, yet all he saw was a smug young man with nice pair of lips. 

Everybody loved a circus. Kip just happened to love it more.

Whenever he saw the flyers and pamphlets attached to the cover of the Tribune, he made a special point of saving up his tip money to pay his way in, or, if all went according to plan, just for the kettle corn and the pulled taffy he intended to stock up on. 

He wasn’t just the usual carnival-goer, Kip liked to make a show of it. He splurged at the costuming store, buying himself a tube of shining-silver face paint, adorned himself with a cap sprayed gold with affixed wings, and dressed himself the part of a costumed player. If security was lax, he could trespass in under the guise of an employee, just one of the freak show performers or the clowns that were utterly indistinct from one another, all of them grifters and con men in their own right. Kip Caraway was only performing a service. A gentle shake-down. These people were willing to pay good money to come and see the sights and ride the rides, why wouldn’t he leverage some of that hard-earned green for himself? A man had to make a living. 

Getting past the gatekeeper wasn’t difficult — when most people saw painted faces, they assumed it was part of the show, no questions asked. He gathered the place to employ well over a hundred people, there was no way to know everybody. And if someone asked him directly, he could just pretend he spoke on Polish and had been picked up in town as a contract. His broken Polish was coming along nicely.

Kip set himself up not too far from the main attraction, the massive Ferris wheel that had been the central point of the advertisements. A small crowd had gathered not for him, but for the ride itself — he only intended to attract those too impatient to wait placidly in line. His arsenal consisted of a deck of cards that was ragged and worn, several old coins and tattered bills, some of them real, others counterfeit, and an encyclopedic knowledge of legerdemain, misdirection, and palming. 

“Ssssstep right up!" he called out, taking on a voice not his own, a flair of french and portuguese and italian that he’d appropriated into his own cultural blend. "Witness a sawbuck turn into a fiver, watch your coin vanish right before your very eyes!"

Looking below, he could see a small attraction beginning to build attention. People had stopped and were listening to the man in the golden hat, and Abel pegged the man as one of those tricksters who never let you win at their game. And if Abel was good at anything, it was at meeting a challenge.

When the Ferris Wheel stopped and the attendant finally let him out, Abel pushed his way through the crowd, and arrived just in time to hear the man's call to action. Though Abel had no idea who this Hermes was, he had intended on beating the man's record. 

The man behind the table had a silvery paint slathered across his face, but Abel could still tell the man was good looking. And the man's slender body sat under that costume well. Abel's body began to stir at the thought of the man under his touch, but he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. Those ideas weren't something he focused on outside of the club.

"Would a man with a lady be ridin’ the ferris wheel alone?" He joked, thankful that this the ride wouldn’t be entirely awkward. "I’m Bradford, what about you? Your gal’s down there enjoying herself?" 

The ride continued on for a moment, and Abel ran a hand through his hair to keep it from hitting his face. "So what brings you here, if you aren't escortin' a lady?" Abel asked, avoiding eye contact with the man. Too many years of hiding himself had taught Abel to play it safe, and a lingering stare would be more than enough to get both of the men lynched. 

Most of the people Bradford ever talked too thought being a poet was an easy job to have. Of course, he can’t say its easier that being a construction worker or a policeman, but it still wasn’t easy finding an idea for a poem all the time. In a city that was grey and dull, the Carnival would provide a excellent change of tone from his usually gloomy poems.

He was too busy writing on his small notebook to see that there was another man who had his same plans. The two were standing pretty close together, the employees must have thought they were friends. Before Bradford could even open his mouth, he was already strapped in the ride next to the a very handsome stranger. It was like something in one of the romance novels the gals read these days.

Abel waited in line with a childish grin on his face, and was more than elated when he was strapped in to the ride. The man who was sat next to Abel seemed to be about his age, and he was surprised another grown man was here alone. Though, his childish thoughts were replaced with adult ones when Abel realized how attractive the man was. Those cheekbones could cut a diamond. Normally, Abel would flirt the man's pants off, but taking that chance could cost him greatly. "Bring your lady to the carnival?" Abel asked, his idiotic grin reappearing once more.

The semi-darkness of the Back Door Club provided Ennis Shepard the perfect place to just sit and watch. On the small table in front of him, was a single glass of whiskey, double, the ice clinking against the side was he swirled it around. It was getting late, but Ennis had no thoughts of going home. The Back Door Club provided an escape from the normal that he longed to hold onto. It wasn’t that busy tonight, it being the middle of the week, but men still milled about in the bar, talking, flirting and mingling. Ennis was by himself. He brought the glass to his mouth a took a long sip, the burn of it not even phasing him.