Chapter Three: A Piece of Me
February. Snow still fell upon the frozen backs of the hardworking newsies, whose numb fingers could barely even handle strain of gripping a stack of papes, without which no food would be eaten that night. Deuce had to be persuaded by Wolf and a couple of the other boys that not only would he die of hypothermia if he continued to take his solo swims in the harbor, but before he did, they would all kick his sorry ass. Deuce grudgingly agreed, but he still insisted on staying out at night far later than any other person in his right mind would until his lungs could barely take in another breath.
Trouble in Brooklyn. A couple of Brooklyn boys had gotten in a fight with some Manhattan newsies, and Jack Kelly had been summoned to deal with the situation with Spot. When Jack arrived at the Brooklyn Lodging House, Deuce was standing outside, braving the cold with only a worn jacket over his regular clothes and dirty, fingerless gloves. Deuce was so still that Jack almost didn't even notice him, though Deuce's eyes were on Jack's powerful form until he was out of sight, disappearing into the Lodge to talk with Spot. Deuce remained outside. As the minutes ticked by, he could feel his blood boiling in his veins, despite the cold. Jack Kelly was inside. Jack Kelly was talking to Spot. He had probably taken off that stupid cowboy hat, brushed his scruffy hair out of his eyes, and spitshook with Spot. Deuce could see it all in his mind's eye. Saw the rope Jack wore around his narrow waist as a belt. Saw the arrogant gleam in his eyes as he talked to Spot, saw his lips moving though no sound was produced. Deuce's eyes, after all, could not hear.
Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. The door opened, Deuce heard noise from inside, then nothing, only footsteps retreating. Then Jack Kelly's back, his figure hunched against the cold. The crunch of his feet beating the snow-covered ground was the only sound, apart from the incessant pounding of Deuce's heart, ringing in his ears.
"Kelly." He meant to say it harshly, mockingly, but it came out choked and resentfully. The figure stopped and slowly turned to face him. Jack's cheeks were flushed, due to the cold and possibly an argument with Spot. But now they glowed with a renewed anger, directed solely towards Deuce.
"Watch it, Harvey," he said warningly, taking two steps forward, "or you'll be the one gettin' hoit tonight."
"I'll take me chances," came Deuce's low growl in response. Slowly the space between the two boys was closed, and soon Jack and Deuce stood only inches apart, very still, guaging each other silently.
"You wanna piece o' me?" Jack's voice was low, threatening, and almost seductive. Deuce's answer came in a sharp right hook that Jack narrowly dodged and returned with a fist in Deuce's stomach. It hurt, but Deuce fought back, gritting his teeth and savouring every brutal contact he made with Jack's hard body. Deuce was strong and angry, but he was no match for Jack's superior strength and skill, and soon the Cowboy had his opponent backed up against a wall, fighting for breath and tasting blood on his mouth.
"Whaddaya want, Harvey?" Jack sneered, pressing Deuce into the wall painfully. "You wanna hoit even more?"
"Just try it, Kelly," Deuce writhed against Jack's body, cursing the pleasure it gave him, wanting to kill Jack, wanting to kiss that sneer of his perfect face. Jack leaned in even closer, effectively pinning Deuce against the wall with one shoulder and freeing his right hand. With this hand, he slowly traced the cut along Deuce's lip, smearing the blood on his fingers. Involuntarily, Deuce's lips closed around the wandering fingers, sucking on the blood and causing Jack pull back his hand in surprise and partly free Deuce from the wall. He hadn't been expecting this. Unable to stop himself, Deuce leaned forward and caught Jack's lips with his own, kissing him roughly. The cut on his lip hurt, but he didn't care. He didn't even care whether or not Jack was kissing him back, but apparently he was, because a moment later he felt a tongue snake through his parted lips and caress the inner walls of his mouth. Jack's body was now pressing hard against Deuce's, pushing him into the wall, hands gripping each other's bodies forcefully as Deuce bit down on Jack's lower lip, causing the other boy to moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure.
Almost as suddenly as it had started, it was over; Jack had flown back 5 feet from the wall, panting for breath and eyes wide in fright. Deuce still stood collapsed against the wall, a sullen look on his face, eyes boring into Jack's.
"Da question is, Cowboy," he sneered, "do you wanna a piece o' me?"
A moment of hesitation and Jack was gone, fleeing from the scene like a bat out of hell. Leaving Deuce panting against the wall, still tasting Jack's lips on his, feeling their bodies pressed against each other, cursing the night and Jack Kelly and his own damned existance.Chapter 4