He’d been utterly shocked the first time he saw him. Sam had been gone… dead, for over a decade. He’d long since stopped seeing him on the other side of the street, getting into a car, at the bottom of an escalator. He’d even stopped hoping to see him in the end.

For a few euphoric moments, he actually thought it was Sam. That somehow, he had survived the accident. There had been no body. Who was to say he hadn’t made it after all?
Then he realized that the man standing on the street corner was nothing more than a boy, really. He was younger than he’d ever seen Sam.
Gene tried to fight off the pang of grief at loosing the hope he’d given up yet again.

The boy wasn’t going anywhere. He was just standing at the corner, as if waiting. Gene wasn’t stupid. He’d been a copper for his entire adult life. A good one.
Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of seeing Sam… Almost seeing Sam again, it didn’t take him long to realize what sort of profession the boy had chosen, if anyone ever chooses that one. It didn’t make it easier to watch an older man walk up to him and discretely hand him some money.
Gene had half a mind to go over and stop them as the boy led the man down a nearby ally.
He would have, if he could only force his legs to start moving.

He didn’t go back to the street corner the next day, nor the day after. In fact, it took him three days of telling himself he was too old to start chasing ghosts, that the boy wasn’t Sam, no matter how much he looked like him, before he gave in and went back.

It was a seedy part of town, and the boy was by no means the only rent boy or prozzie out there. Gene was propositioned twice before he even got to the place he’d last seen the boy.

Someone else was standing there. A girl. Young, quite pretty. Lots of dark curls. He shouldn’t have been disappointed. The boy didn’t even know he existed. There was no reason for him to be waiting for Gene. He wasn’t Sam, he reminded himself yet another time.
He considered leaving, but didn’t. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching the corner.
It didn’t take long before the girl was picked up by some guy in a car. Dangerous, that. Bringing them to some ally was safer, he knew. At least there was a chance people might hear you there if you had to shout for help. Just as he thought that, he saw a man scramble out of an ally, closely followed by the boy.
For the briefest of seconds, he considered paying the boy to go home for the evening. To not take on any more customers today. He tossed the idea out before it was even fully formed. The kid would just take the money and set up shop somewhere else for the night.

For a few minutes, he just stood there, looking at the boy, wondering what course of action he should take, thinking maybe it’d be best if he just left. He didn’t think he could stand seeing him walk off with another man.
Before he’d thought it through, he felt his legs move, taking him across the street.

There were subtle differences when you got close. The boy had a twisty front tooth where Sam’s teeth had been perfectly straight. Sam had been a man with slightly boyish looks. This boy looked like he had yet to grow into his body. There was no mistaking that smug look, though. That was Sam all the way.

“How much for a kiss?” The smug look faltered.

“You heard me. A snog. How much?” The boy looked nervous now.

“Look…” He stopped, realizing that calling him Sam would be bad on several levels.

“Cecil,” the boy supplied, thinking the pause was a demand for his name.

“Cecil,” Gene repeated, trying to remind himself that this really wasn’t Sam. “I want to snog you. I’m willing to pay. How much?” He almost smiled at the irony that asking for a kiss made the boy think him a bigger perv than if he’d asked to ram him up the arse.

“Five quid,” the boy, Cecil, finally said.

“That’s bloody steep for a kiss!”

“It’s not something I usually do, so it’s extra, all right?” Cecil explained defensively.

“I guess a bit of tongue isn’t what men usually slip rent boys like you,” Gene noted, looking through his wallet for a fiver.

“I guess not,” Cecil bit back. As he stood there with arms crossed over his chest, an offended frown on his face, he looked so much like Sam it hurt. Gene tore a note out of his wallet and smacked it into Sa… Cecil’s waiting hand. As soon as the money were tucked away, he grabbed the kid’s upper arm and dragged him into the now familiar ally.

“Right, I paid good money for this, and I expect a proper snog,” Gene told him, pushing Cecil against the wall, making sure to be careful enough not to scare him off. “And I want you to take off that ridiculous hat.” Cecil obediently obliged, lifting the hat of and putting it down on the lid of a nearby garbage bin.
Gene wasn’t about to wait any longer. 12 years had been enough. Without a word, he stepped forward, capturing the boy between the brick wall behind him and Gene’s bulk in front.
He slid his fingers into the short hair, tugging the boys head back before descending upon him.
Their lips met, clashing hard, intensity meeting professionalism. Not so different from how it used to be. Gene moved even closer, pressing their bodies flush together.
A slight hint of tongue would probably have been enough for Cecil to part those oh, so familiar lips, but Gene had no patience for that. With the brutality he’d once saved for one man, he forced his tongue into the boy, holding his head in place. He was met by a faint, but strangely familiar taste. It didn’t feel particularly like Sam. It was salty and bitter, and Gene suddenly remembered the man that had left the ally moments before the boy. It didn’t matter, tough. Sam had tasted like this often enough, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend it was his own flavor upon those lips.
He ran his tongue across the roof of Cecil’s mouth, enjoying the sensation of a tongue bucking against his.
The boy started sucking on the invading tongue, pulling a groan from deep within Gene. Without thinking, he let his hand wander down between their bodies, long fingers groping at Cecil’s groin.

“Oi, that’ll cost you extra!” Cecil exclaimed, pulling his head back as far as the wall would let him.

“How much?” Gene asked, trying to hide his desperation.

“Depends on what you want, don’it?”

“A shag, you nonce,” Gene explained irritated.

“Twenty-five.” Gene didn’t bother with arguments or come backs. Instead, he quickly fished the notes out of his wallet and forced them into Cecil’s waiting hand. As soon as the money was securely pocketed, Cecil easily allowed himself to be spun round and forced face first into the brick wall.

“Got anything to make this easier?” Gene panted, tugging at Cecil’s belt. The boy fished a dirty jar out of his pocket just as Gene defeated his zipper and pushed his trousers and pants out of the way.
Sam would have balked at the state of the jar. He’d always been obsessed with hygiene and neatness, the big girl. Gene didn’t look too close as he twisted the lid off and scooped the contents out with two fingers.
With what had once been an expert move, he smeared the lube between the boys buttocks, probing the opening there with his index finger. The boy didn’t buck until he inserted a second finger, scissoring them inside him.

Finally satisfied with his preparations (it wouldn’t do to hurt the lad), he withdrew his fingers. He clumsily rolled on the condom that had been handed to him along with jar. Him and Sam had never bothered with that before.
He positioned himself and slowly trust inside, going all the way in. He could feel the boy in front of him tense in nervous surprise when, instead of trusting, Gene embraced him, held him close and rested his head in the crook of his neck.

“Sam…” He whispered, letting his hand slip down Cecil’s front, wrapping his slim fingers around the soft flesh he found there.
He started stroking it gently, timing each stroke with the shallow thrust of his hips.
He kept muttering into the boy’s neck, alternately kissing and licking it as well. The trust deepened as he felt Sam’s cock respond to his administrations, relishing in the feel of it swelling and hardening in his now tight fist.
His pace quickened, and he knew his grip was so tight it must be bordering on painful, but he couldn’t force himself to let go. Him and Sam had been rougher together before. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam could still handle it.

He pumped the cock in his hand with almost frenzied intensity, the remaining lubrication on his hand making it a smooth process. The hand he kept on the wall for support was the only thing keeping him from crushing Sam’s light frame beneath him as he pistoned his hips forwards. The lad really ought to eat more. He was skinnier than Gene ever remembered seeing him.

With a squeeze at the head of his cock, Sam finally came, spilling himself over Gene’s hand. His low groan of satisfaction was enough to push Gene over the edge as well. With a final thrust, he forced himself deep into Sam.

“Oh God, I’ve missed you, Sam,” he moaned as waves of pleasure rolled through him.

It didn’t take long for reality to hit. As soon as Gene had slipped out and started tucking himself away, the boy had pulled his trousers back up and was scrabbling for that ugly hat of his.
He wasn’t Sam. He’d never been Sam.
He hurried out of the ally, not caring if Cecil was following or not. He managed to get as far as three blocks away before he had to stop.
Leaning against a wall under the pretence of catching his breath, Gene cried for the first time in 12 years.