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A College Education
Felinus looked down at the sleeping form on his couch as he fixed his tie. Perhaps it had been too much to think the young man would actually be able to go the entire night with him but fuck if it hadn’t been a good time while it had lasted. It was obvious that the kid was more experienced with the bases than he was with a home run. He’d been decent at kissing and amazing at oral, but with how many times Felinus got him off, had very little experience with the back entrance. Not that it had bothered Felinus. “Jacob” never gave any indication of wanting to stop until two hours in when he seemed to run out of cum all together. Felinus liked taking his partners past their limits but he knew how to read when they really couldn’t take anymore.
Still, looking down and fully taking in how thin and pale his body was made Felinus feel a bit guilty. Perhaps he’d buy him breakfast before sending him on his way. Because he had to send him away. “Jacob’s” eyes were like an addiction and Felinus knew that he’d keep him forever if he didn’t get away.
What’s wrong with that,the devil on his shoulder seemed to sneer. You could give him everything he ever wanted, make him into a kept man, keep him locked away safe from the streets and other men, and he’d thank you for it by giving you all of himself in return.
That’s a lot of assumptions about someone you only met six hours ago,the angel reprimanded. You don’t know his situation, his past, or even his real name.
But we have the ability to find out,the devil said and Felinus felt himself drawn to the two bags he had grabbed before dragging them to the comfort of the office. We’re helping him. He’s got to be in trouble to be this bad. With our protection, he’d be safe, sound, and clean and if he really wants to leave once we set him straight…
Felinus picked up the duffle bag and set it on the table. Baby boy had said he wasn’t on drugs, challenged him even to do a drug test, but Felinus had seen what drugs could do to a person and the denial an addict of any sort could have. There had to be something stashed away.
The duffle had seen better days. Patches of what looked like old denim pants had been hand-sewn onto the outside and he had the impression the bag was smaller than it originally was. The fabric frayed, becoming unusable, and had been resown further down when the seams were about to give out. Inside he found a couple of shirts in various sizes that all seemed too big, a second pair of jeans that had been patched once already in the crotch, some underwear in need of replacing, socks that also could use replacing with nothing rolled into them, a pair of sandals duct taped at the toe where the thong had ripped out, a mesh bag with what looked like new toiletries with a shelter’s sticker slapped onto each of them, a disposable razor, a thin blanket with a different shelter’s name on the label, the raincoat he had worn when he broke the latch, and a beaten up but heavy combination lock. No drugs, no alcohol, nothing that would look out of the ordinary or indicate he did anything illegal while living on the streets.
The backpack told a different kind of story. Inside it was overflowing with school supplies. Multiple cheap notebooks filled its main pocket, cheap pens, highlighters, scissors, and sticky notes were in the front, and where a laptop should have been were three large books for what looked like a higher course of a political science degree. They were all marked as used and he flipped one open to see a stamp for the grad school about not far from the warehouse, just outside of the Family’s territory line in the Russian Ring. A look at the notebooks revealed color-coded notes for lectures Felinus didn’t pretend to read, though he did pause at a doodle of a cartoon ninja wielding a sword and the scrawled words “Quit it!” under it in the margins of one particularly dense page.
The devil on his shoulder, which had been disheartened by the lack of drugs, practically danced with glee as Felinus slid the book back into the bag and looked at the jeans Jacob had taken the time to fold during a brief pause to change positions.
The wallet was even more beaten up than the duffle and only had a dollar and a condom from one of the free clinics that set up shop near colleges. It looked like it had been in the main pocket for a while. A bank card for a bank he’d never heard of was in the most secure pocket, and two forms of picture ID sat together in a stretched-out pocket in front of it. One was an expired driver’s license, the picture of a tawny-haired boy around seventeen based on the issued date. The same dark eyes stared back at him from the picture, his cheeks fuller and a bit of acne but undoubtedly the same person as the young man on his couch. He had had a birthday recently, his twenty-fifth birthday, and Felinus couldn’t help but wonder what he had done for it. The second ID had a more recent photo on it. His hair was cut in this picture, almost shaved down to nothing. Not a look that was particularly complimentary. It was a school ID for the same school as the books, with a barcode on the bottom, and a magnetic strip on the back.
Issac I. Maus
Political Science and Campaign Communications
Masters, MA, MSC
Felinus sat behind his desk as he turned the card in his fingers.
Issac Maus. He could see where “Jacob” had come from as he put the wallet save for the student ID back in the pocket. This changed things, painted a different picture from what he had thought was just a kid without a home or family on the streets.
He was still those things, but it was more than that now.
Issac Maus was pushing his way through a Masters degree while living on the streets of the Three Rings. Felinus had no doubt that he was smart. Smart enough to find the funds through scholarships, loans, and part time work to pay for his tuition and books but not enough to live on.
Pulling out his phone, he set the ID down to send a picture to Snake when a sound he hadn’t heard in years broke the silence.
The digital watch on Issac’s wrist beeped loudly and he looked up to see the young man flinch then groan as he lifted his head to squint at the faintly glowing face. Felinus glanced at his phone, too. Bright numbers on the black screen, before it unlocked, told him it was six a.m.
“Kacke verdammt,” snarled the young man so suddenly that Felinus looked up in surprise to see him already shoving both legs into his jeans.
He blinked as Issac managed to get his socks on in seconds and decided that Issac had to be the fastest dresser he’d ever seen as he shoved shoes on his feet. Within thirty seconds, he was already out the door, the flannel that served as his jacket halfway on with the duffle and backpack swinging from his arm and for the first time, Felinus just stared blankly at the door as his partner of the evening ran off without so much as a glance in his direction.
A smile grew on his lips as he picked the ID up from the desk and turned it in his fingers. It didn’t matter, he’d be seeing his baby boy again soon.
* * *
Issac wasn’t unfamiliar with body aches and exhaustion. It came with pulling all-nighters and living on the streets. But this, this was a whole different level of aching exhaustion. At least the gym’s showers were always hot and had decent water pressure, particularly this early in the morning. One of the many perks of going to a school that only rich kids could afford and constantly almost flunk out of so their parents paid for the latest amenities to buy their grades. It also meant that the gym was empty most of the time since the majority of the students had home gyms or personal trainers so he could shower without prying eyes and questions.
His watch beeped a warning and he sighed as he turned off the water. It had taken too long to get from the warehouse to campus, what with his legs feeling like jelly and his back and ass sore, and stomach cramping as he tried not to think of the free breakfast and snacks the warehouse always had for its employees. It had, he hated to admit, been a good time. One he had almost regretted coming to an end. But it had ended and now it was back to reality with the many, many bite marks and hickeys as a fucked up badge of honor covering his neck and chest. He popped the collar of his flannel to attempt to hide the marks and made a note to try to get a scarf the next time he found a donation bin. His duffle bag went into a locker with his dying combination lock firmly in place and he headed out with his backpack.
Dimitri was waiting for him with a paper cup of coffee just outside the classroom, tipping his head back to finish the last of his drink. “Issac,” he called, the Russian coloring his city accent instead of dominating it, “dobroye utro- Is your hair wet?”
“I woke up late,” Issac lied, suppressing the urge to shiver as the chill of the morning continued to press in all around him. He missed the hair dryer he had gotten out of a donation bin last year but it had only lasted a month before it had died completely with a truly spectacular ball of fire and sparks. If nothing else it had kept the questions to a minimum when his hair was blown dry.
The large Russian made a disapproving sound as he pushed off the wall. “Don’t you walk from your apartment?” Dimitri Volkov had been Issac’s classmate since they had started undergrad, Issac directly out of high school and Dimitri after a gap year spent in Russia “connecting to his roots” but really living free from being under his father’s watchful eye. He used the time to completely forget everything he had learned in high school it had seemed, because he had nearly flunked the class before turning to Issac for help.
After that, Issac could never quite get rid of him and he switched between being grateful and annoyed for the first-generation Russian’s solidly friendly presence. Annoyed was apparently going to be the mood of the day as Dimitri continued, “You shouldn’t walk in this weather with wet hair.”
