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Over the Hills and Far Away	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2103 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Four months later
The sensation of tiny feet scampering over his body woke Tom from a restless sleep. With a yelp, he swiped at the rat sitting on his stomach. The small, hairy mammal squeaked in protest as it hit the floor and quickly scurried away. Groaning loudly, Tom raised himself to a sitting position. He felt his stomach lurch and turning his head, he spewed up watery bile from his empty stomach. Running a shaky hand through his dirty hair, his mind instantly turned to his next fix. He needed money but most of all, he needed to get himself cleaned up. No one would pay him for sex looking and smelling the way he did. Struggling to his feet, he steadied himself against the graffitied wall as the room swam in front of him. Another wave of nausea washed over him and bending over, he vomited for the second time. Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, he raised his head and gazed at his surroundings. Several other homeless people lay sleeping in the dilapidated room of the disused warehouse. Tom vaguely remembered arriving at the building with another vagrant named Henry but try as he might, he could not remember if they had gotten high together. His shaky hands and intense craving for a hit told him that is was most probable that they had not. The stale taste of whiskey in his mouth triggered a memory and looking down, he saw two empty bottles of cheap, rot gut whiskey lying on the cement floor. There was no sign of Henry and Tom briefly wondered if the man was okay. But he quickly pushed the thought away. He only had the capacity to worry about himself, everyone else was on their own.
Turning to face the muralled wall, he unzipped his jeans and relieved his bladder. After zipping up, he walked unsteadily out of the building and into the light drizzling rain. Judging by the lack of people on the streets, it was still early. Smiling, Hanson began to walk along the wet footpath towards 48th Street. Early was good. Early meant he might get a shower.
Stopping outside the homeless shelter, Tom pressed the buzzer. He waited impatiently for the door to open as he attempted to shield himself from the rain in the narrow entranceway. Several minutes passed before the large wooden door opened and Gerald, the manager of the refuge, stared out through the security gate. Recognizing Hanson, he gave Tom a smile. “What can I do for you Tom? I’m afraid we’re full up.”
Tom smiled back. He had a lot of respect for Gerald Cooper. He was a fair but strict man who did not tolerate rule breakers within his establishment. He ran a clean house. No drink, no drugs and no sex. Most of his funding came from his own inventiveness. He coordinated art exhibitions in wealthy neighborhoods and he took twenty percent of the takings as his fee. He reinvested the money back into the shelter, along with any other donations that came his way. That and the small amount that he received from the city allowed him to provide a warm bed for fifteen men plus a hot meal and bathroom facilities. He also gave out clean clothing, which was kindly donated by the local Catholic Church. The amenities were a Godsend to all the homeless men living within a five-block radius of 48th Street, who without the shelter, would have to live rough three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year.
“Can I take a shower?” Tom asked politely, pushing his dirty hair out of his dark eyes.
Cooper looked Hanson up and down, trying to gauge his sobriety. “Are you high Tom?” he inquired bluntly. He had known Tom for several months and he was well aware of his addiction to heroin and cocaine.
Hanson shook his head. “No sir,” he replied honestly. “I only had a drink last night.”
Gerald knew that only a drink meant at least a bottle. But he had a soft spot for Tom and he often wondered how a well educated young man had ended up in such a dire situation. It was not his place to pry but when he looked deep into Tom’s eyes, he saw a man with a tortured soul. Having been in the business for many years, he was used to the tormented expressions that the homeless often wore. But Hanson was different. His pain sat deeper than most and Gerald knew that he must have experienced something unbelievably terrifying for it to leave such an obvious mark.
Unable to turn Tom away, he unlocked the wrought iron gate. “Come on in. I’ll see if I can find you some clean clothes too.”
Sighing with relief, Tom entered the building. He had not showered for weeks and he was longing to scrub the grime of the streets and the scent of the men he had pleasured, off his fatigued body. Plus, once he was clean, he would be able to concentrate on finding his next fix.
**
Now that he was showered and wearing clean, secondhand clothing, Hanson set about finding a dealer so he could score. He felt in high spirits, especially because he also had a full stomach of oatmeal that Gerald had kindly prepared for him. Wandering through the inner city streets, which were beginning to come alive with early morning commuters, Tom’s eyes scanned the various men loitering on street corners in search of a dealer nicknamed Thumper. Tom knew he would supply him with cocaine in exchange for sex. He needed the coke to fuel his sexual appetite so he could prostitute himself for money. His ultimate aim was to make enough so he could buy some heroin. He longed for the rush he felt just moments after injecting the liquid gold into his veins. The heaviness in his limbs and the radiating warmth in his chest had a soothing affect and it was the only time he felt truly at peace.
He smiled when he spotted Thumper leaning casually against a light post. Walking over, he gazed at the man seductively. “Hey Thumper.”
Thumper’s eyes traveled over Hanson’s body and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. Out of all the men and women he supplied, Tom was the one who made him the horniest. Tom was the most beautiful man he had ever met and he was also the most willing to please and that combination made him irresistible to Thumper. Licking his lips, he raised his eyebrows in greeting. “What’s up Tommy?”
Shoving his shaky hands in his pockets, Hanson shrugged his shoulders. “Not much. I’m looking to score.”
A slow smile played over Thumper’s lips. “You got money?” he asked.
Tom shook his head. “I thought maybe we could cut a deal, you know… you do something for me… I do something for you...”
Thumper tilted his head on one side. “And what exactly will you do for me Tommy?” he asked quietly, his pupils beginning to dilate at the thought of fucking Tom’s hot, tight ass.
Running a hand through his hair, Tom’s mouth twitched nervously. “Whatever you want,” he muttered, not quite able to make eye contact with the young street dealer.
A wide grin split Thumper’s face. “Excellent. Now that we’ve settled the deal we can go have some fun. C’mon, let’s find us somewhere private.”
Tom followed Thumper as he wound his way through the congested footpaths. After several minutes, he turned into a narrow alleyway and pulling open a dented metal door, he entered a disused office building. He quickly checked through the rooms before settling on a small space with faded blue carpet lining the floor. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled his black Metallica t-shirt over his head. Tom watched as he slowly pulled his belt free before taking off his jeans and throwing them to one side. Wearing only a pair of faded boxers, he flexed the belt between his hands. “C’mon Tommy,” he coaxed. “I haven’t got all day.”
Hanson swallowed deeply. “I need a snort,” he replied quietly. “You know, to get me in the mood.”
Thumper bent over and scrounged through the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a small plastic bag of white powder, he tossed it to Hanson. “Don’t use it all at once Tommy boy,” he teased.
Walking over to a discarded office desk, Hanson pulled a small paper square out of his pocket and laid it on the table along with a BIC pen casing that he had chopped to about a third of its size and small retractable blade knife. He carefully pulled a rock from the baggie and placed it on the square of paper. Pushing open the blade of the knife, he tried to steady his hand as he cut the cocaine into a fine powder. Once satisfied with the texture, he put down the knife and picked up the plastic pen casing. Leaning forward, he snorted the white powder up his nostril. Within minutes, he felt a rush of euphoria and turning to Thumper, he grinned playfully as he kicked off his boots. The drug dealer watched on excitedly as Hanson stripped naked.
Standing in the middle of the room, Tom waited for instructions. Thumper pulled down his boxers and kicked them away. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded, his cock already erect at the sight of Tom’s naked body. Hanson dropped to his knees obediently and placed his hands on the floor. He felt Thumper’s leather belt wrap around his throat and he moaned expectantly at what was to come. He felt the stiff leather bite into his flesh and his cock began to swell. From behind, he heard a condom wrapper rip open and a loud grunt as Thumper rolled the rubber sheath over his cock. Moments later he felt Thumper’s unlubricated finger enter him and he winced with pain as the digit pushed past his tight ring of muscle. As Thumper probed deep into his body, preparing him for what was to come, Tom’s cock became fully erect. Thumper removed his finger and Tom felt his large erection pushing against his hole. He slowly sucked in his breath and waited. When Thumper pushed his cock deep inside his body, Tom let out a loud moan. The belt tightened around his neck and the sensation caused his cock to weep. “Sí, sí, sí,” he groaned loudly. Lifting his right hand, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and started to masturbate.
Thumper grinned manically as he pounded in and out of Tom’s tight opening. He loved how Tom always spoke in Spanish when he was being fucked.
As the belt slowly cut off his oxygen supply and Thumper’s cock slammed against his prostate, Tom felt his orgasm rising. “Oh Dios… Oh sí! Más rápido! Más rápido!” Oh God... Oh yes! Faster! Faster!
Thumper yanked on the belt and Tom’s eyes started to flutter as he gasped for breath. When the young dealer cried out his release, Tom gurgled loudly and ejaculated forcefully over his fingers before collapsing onto the floor with Thumper falling heavily on top of him. Panting loudly, Thumper pulled out of Tom’s body and released the belt from around his neck. After checking that Hanson was breathing, he rolled onto the floor and lay on his back breathing rapidly. When Tom’s eyes flickered open, he smiled at him with amusement. “Thanks Tommy boy, that was one hell of a ride.”
Tom managed a weak grin in return and resting his head on his arm, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the last of the euphoric effects of the cocaine as his high slowly evaporated. He knew that it would not be long before he craved another hit but he needed to pace himself so he could get out on the streets and make some money.
Only then would he be able to buy what he ultimately yearned for.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Over the Hills and Far Away