The sun was setting on New York as Race ran towards the Brooklyn lodging house, anxious to meet up with Spot. They had been meeting in secret for a while now, although he was only keeping the secret from the Manhattan newsies. The Brooklyn boys all knew Race, and when the boy left in the morning, they would all wave goodbye.
When he reached the door, it was unlocked and he slipped in. A few boys were sitting in the halls, and they waved. "Hey, Race. Spot's in 'is room," one of the boys said, smiling a bit.
"Thank youse!" Race called, jogging to the end of the hall and knocking on Spot's door. It was locked, this time, and Race had to wait a while before the door finally unlocked. He slipped into Spot's room with a wide smile, though it quickly faded away when he saw Spot sitting on his bed, sulking.
"Spot? What's goin' on? Who died?" Race asked with a frown, sitting across from the boy. That was when he noticed the tears on Spot's cheeks. He reached over, cupping Spot's cheek and wiping the tears away. "Why ya cryin', Spotty?" he murmured, tilting his head a bit.
Spot looked away, clenching his jaw and shaking his head. "It's nothin', Race. Leave it alone," he growled softly. "I don't wanna talk 'bout it."
Racetrack sighed softly, catching notice of the wilted flowers in Spot's hand. "Oh...Spotty...are those fo' me...?"
"They got crushed. They were beautiful, an', an' alive, an' I wanted to give 'em to ya, but they got crushed." The shorter boy sniffed softly, subconsciously leaning into Race as the boy wrapped an arm around him.
"They's beautiful, Spot. I ain't gotten flowers from no one before, and these ones is beautiful." Race wiped Spot's tears away and hugged him. "Thank you."
"Ya really mean it?" Spot murmured into Race's shoulder. "You like em?"
"Mm, I love em, baby. God, 'm so lucky to have ya," the Manhattan boy whispered, smiling widely at his boyfriend. "I love you."
Spot looked up at him, his tears now gone, and placed a firm kiss on Race's lips, pulling him close. "I love ya, Racer."
A mumbled "I love ya too" could be heard from Race as he kissed back, holding Spot against his chest. "I love them flowers, as well. They's wonderful."
The newsie leader chuckled softly, setting said flowers to the side. "Better put 'em away before they get too crushed, yeah?"
"Why would they get crushed?" Race hummed softly, smirking at Spot. He knew exactly what was coming, this was what happened almost every night. This was the hardest secret to keep; the reason why Race kept coming home most mornings with a hoarse voice, marks on his neck, and a slight limp. Of course, no ones could know he was fucking Spot Conlon, or, on occasions such as tonight, getting fucked by Spot Conlon. It was bad enough that he was a regular at the Brooklyn lodging house and that every Brooklyn newsie knew his name. He couldn't have the Manhattan boys knowing where he went every night.
"I don't know, ya gonna be rollin' and squirmin' a lot," Spot hummed innocently, curling his fingers in Race's collar, slowly starting to smirk. "Jus' wanted ta take precautions."
Race groaned softly, pulling Spot into a messy kiss, eyes desperate. "Damn tease," he growled softly.
"Ah ah ah, if I remember correctly, you was on top o' me, last time. Dontcha think it's my turn ta be on toppa you?" Spot asked against his lips, pushing Race down on the bed. "To make up fo' the flowers?"
The blonde chuckled quietly, pushing his lips against Spot's again. "Mm, I ain't tryna stop ya," Race replied, a slight tone of desperation to his voice.
The two boys were in the middle of a messy, passionate kiss when one of the Brooklyn boys, Bits, accidentally walked in on them. The two saw Bits and didn't stop, while the boy just kinda walked out, mostly unfazed. Race had been coming here and sleeping with Spot for a while, so by now this was a common occurrence.
"Don' be too loud, the rest of us is tryna sleep!" Bits called as he closed the door again. "Youse nearly shook the whole building last night."
Race grinned devilishly at Spot, who just rolled his eyes playfully. "'s not my fault yer leader is so loud!" he called back, but was quickly silenced with another messy kiss, courtesy of Spot.
Limbs tangled in a desperate fight to tear clothes off, a pile slowly starting to form on the floor. First the shirts, then Race's suspenders and pants, his shoes and socks, 'til finally, the boy was left in his underwear under a still nearly clothed Spot.
"This don't feel fair, Spotty," he gasped as his boyfriend's lips started travelling down his body. "Not that I'se complaining!" Race quickly amended, feeling teeth graze against his pelvis. Instead of stopping, however, Spot just smirked and continued nipping along Race's hips, leaving small red marks in a neat line.
"You know ya love it, Racer," Spot purred, moving back up so he could kiss Race again. "Don' try an' deny it. I can see it, in ya eyes."
"Really?" the blond groaned, pushing his hips up. "What else can ya see in dere?" Race, out of habit, reached up to his mouth to put his cigar back in- only he didn't have a cigar in his hand. Spot noticed this and snickered, a smug grin crossing his face.
"No, no, go ahead, put it in," he hummed smugly, his grin turning evil. Race, who had never seen this somewhat sadistic side of Spot, felt his heart beat a smidge faster.
"It's in mah pocket," he gasped, struggling to reach his pants on the floor. Race blindly groped around on the floor, feeling the fabric between his fingers, and the solid bulge of the cigar in his pocket. He finally got it out, and, feeling cocky, stuck it between his teeth and winked at Spot. "Like dis?"
Spot groaned softly, tugging his own shirt off, and letting Race run a hand over his muscled chest. "Just like that, Racer." The feeling of Race's fingers tracing his chest made him melt, and dragged a small breathy whine out of him. "Ya not doin' a very good job o' lettin' me make ya feel good, huh, Tony?"
There was a chuckle, and then the drawl of, "You're not doin' a very good job o' makin' me feel good then, Spotty." This was quickly followed by a squeal as Race was reprimanded by Spot smacking his bare chest lightly. He laughed and ran a hand up and down the Brooklyn boy's back. "Sorry, sorry." The cigar went back in as Spot finally decided to strip until both of them were in their boxers, and Race was a blushing mess.
"You'se looking rather flustered, Tony," Spot purred in Race's ear as he snuck a hand down to the boy's pelvis. This earned a sharp inhale through Race's teeth, as Spot gently pressed three fingers against the now hard bulge. "Somethin' wrong? Ain't I pleasurin' ya right?"
Race struggled to get words out as the feeling of Spot's fingers numbed his brain and caused his mouth to temporarily not function. Instead, what came out was a half-formed, breathless whine. Spot laughed and then pressed ever so slightly harder, earning a glare from Race. "Tease," he growled, but it didn't sound very menacing on account of the moan that came out with the word.
"Ain't that what I'se supposed to do? I was under the impression that you liked this, Racer." Another increase in pressure, and Race practically tore his boxers off, panting with anticipation.
"Spotty, Spotty, please," Race mumbled, his bright, blue eyes now hazy with lust and desire. The sharp tongue hat so often shot witty or flirty remarks was practically dangling out of his mouth, and the lithe fingers that held the cigar were wrapped around said cigar, knuckles white. "Can't ya see how much I need ya?"
"Mm, but it's so wonderful watchin' you squirm, baby," Spot breathed, making sure to emphasize his words with a soft, intentional moan. He could feel Race's heart beating at the speed of light, and a slight sheen of sweat covering his pale skin. The boys skin was basically buzzing, and Spot could see the desperation in his eyes. The normally sharp, bright blue eyes were dulled, pleading and wide. Spot drew a finger down Race's chest, stopping just before it hit his dick. "You're beautiful," he mumbled, biting his lip. "You're so beautiful, an' I love you." He pressed a soft kiss to Race's lips, and despite the previous torment, Race gave in, melting and kissing back.
"Mmh, do you know how absolutely gorgeous you are?" Race groaned against Spot's warm lips, licking them and smirking at the shy gasp it earned him. The gentle passion of the kiss was causing certain parts of his body to heat up, and he was starting to feel the burn.
"Spot, please, please," Race whispered hoarsely, wrapping his legs tightly around Spot's waist. Spot chuckled and took his boxers off, finally giving in.
"Alright, alright. I'm goin', Racer." A poached bottle of oil provided sufficient lube as Spot pushed in, moving almost immediately. The thrusts started out slow and passionate, the lovers sharing gentle, intimate kisses. As the heat and tension built, however, so did the passion, and soon Spot was jerking his hips erratically, and Race was screaming his voice hoarse. The room seemed to shake as their love filled it, and both boys expressed their love for each other in very vocal ways.
Race could feel his heart beating out his chest, his body shaking, completely at Spot's mercy as the shorter boy rammed into him over and over. He stuck the cigar in his mouth so he didn't accidentally bite his tongue, and Spot paused to purr, "That's hot", before starting up again. This time though, sparks exploded in Race every time Spot hit him, and he yelled. He yelled as the sparks started a flame, and the flame grew and grew until his body was on fire, and it was just them. The world was just them, and Race was certain that he exploded, feeling nothing but pleasure, and the faint touch of Spot as the boy slowed to a halt, taking his time as he pulled out. The sheets under Race were soaked with sweat, and both of them glistened with a sheen of sweat covering them.
Race let out a sleepy coo, unable to keep his eyes open after having had his brains fucked out. "Spotty..." he sighed, the word barely audible. Spot caught it, though, and a chuckle rumble in his chest.
"Yeah, Racer?" He was met with a soft snore, though, and looked down to see Race curled up tighter than he thought physically possible, arms wrapped tightly around his boyfriend. Spot had to admit, his lover was just stunning, with his soft, hay-coloured hair, and his bright eyes, his flirty remarks and cocky stance. He just loved Race so much, and felt a quiet sob swell in his chest.
The boy stirred in Spot's arms, blearily opening his eyes. "Spotty? You cryin'?" Despite being tired as shit, Race wasn't about to fall asleep if his boyfriend needed him. "What's wrong?"
"'m just happy, Tony. I'm just so happy that you're mine, darlin'." Spots words were hushed, and shy, like he was afraid to say them, but when he saw that Race's eyes brightened, he smiled.
Race responded with a clumsy kiss to Spot's lips, grinning widely. "Spotty, I ain't rather be no one else's." He kissed Spot again, and the kiss slowly escalated, and soon both boys were on each other again before Race pointed out, "'m tired, Spotty. You can do me again in the mornin', but I wanna get some sleep." He yawned and snuggled up to Spot, giggling as Spot gently nipped his neck.
"Goodnight, Racer."
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