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She can see the first hints of his erection bulging out of the top of his trousers through the material of his boxers. "Rule number two," he strokes the back of her head softly, and she closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling as he toys with the sensitive skin behind her neck, and her ear. "If you behave yourself... if I decide you're a good girl, then you get five minutes at the end to do whatever you want to me."She grins at this, and he slowly pulls his trousers down, gripping his erection through the material of his boxers. It stands out, silhouetted in the low light, inches from her face, from her open, waiting lips..."Simple rules," he finally takes his cock out, letting it free, and the tip glistens with precum. "But break them, and..." he looks over at the belt. "Now," he runs his hand behind her head again, and says, "be a good girl."With that, she eagerly lunges forward and wraps her lips around the hard shaft of his cock, keeping her eyes trained on his as he pumps her lips. A cacophony of car horns, shrieking sirens, angry voices and roaring engines assaulted their ears as they approached the street. Before they reached the sidewalk, a shabbily dressed man approached them, pulling a stubby pistol from his trouser pocket. "Good afternoon people. I want your wallet and purse, and no funny business."Crystal kicked the gun from his hand and Derek doubled him over with a blow to the sternum. The man lay wheezing as Crystal retrieved the gun and Derek rifled the man's pockets; money, a dirty handkerchief, comb and a wallet, nothing of interest. He dropped them as Crystal examined the pistol."Colt .38 caliber snub-nose revolver, six shots, limited range, easily concealed, useful in close-up fighting." She placed it in her purse. "This may be useful later." We need to find lodgings," Derek said as they strolled down the busy sidewalk, "A base of operations until we can determine the location of the apparatus disrupting the time line." The techs dropped us in.
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Or maybe not as much as William had thought. The older boy glanced at Ryan. Ryan squeezed his hand and they said nothing. They left at seven like clockwork, like always. They went to a liquor store and William used his ID to buy Ryan more vodka. They went to a gas station and Ryan used his ID to buy himself more cigarettes and a new lighter. It was orange. Ryan’s hand lead William by the small of his back to their hotel room. Six inches and three years didn’t matter. Numbers didn’t matter. And soon nothing mattered, William on his back again, wrists held tightly by Ryan and there were more hard kisses and more moaning and more hurt and more crying and more gentle, dancing lips on William’s neck. And then Ryan holding William again afterward. All the same. Different. Maybe it was the softness of the bed. And the next morning, both in clothes from the night before without deodorant or combed hair or brushed teeth, Ryan and William waited at the desk for Gabe’s mother. And she kissed.

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