Neil let Vic and Tommy glitter him up, braid his long hair back off his face. Everyone knew he'd lost Chris two years ago January, the car accident quick, painless -- for Chris anyway. Neil just hoped that someone wanted him enough for a pity fuck. Twenty-three months alone was a long time.
"You look great, Neil." Tommy said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Was he sure? No. But Neil needed someone to touch him. Someone to feel him and let him come.
Then Master Marcus was calling out his name and announcing him as the next man up for auction and he was completely committed.
"Go get 'em!" Vic called, but it was mostly just for show. No one knew what to do with a guy like him.
To his surprise there were a few bids right off, the amount slowly going higher as a couple of guys bid on him. Just when he thought it was done at five hundred dollars, a new bid for seven hundred and fifty came in. Oh. That felt nice. Good. Like maybe he was worth something after all.
The back and forth went on again, until the final bid came in at one thousand and one hundred dollars.
"Sold, for eleven hundred dollars for the night!" Marcus sounded so pleased, and gave him a warm smile as he walked off the stage. "Good job, kiddo."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Master Dalton will be paying Oliver, so you can meet him there."
"Dalton?" Neil didn't understand. At all. Dalton was his neighbor, one of his best friends -- no his best friend -- and totally uninterested in him. Dalton liked him a lot, but was into big, beefy subs, not "long-haired hippy boys".
"Yes, that's right." Marcus gave him an encouraging smile.
"Oh. Excellent. Thank you, Sir." What the fuck?
He headed down off the stage, over to the table Master Oliver sat behind, a thousand questions in his mind. Dalton was there, handing a check over and nodding at something Master Oliver had said.
"Reporting for duty, Master Oliver." Neil tried to put his game face on.
"Ah, Neil, wonderful." Master Oliver patted his hand. "I was so glad to see you putting yourself out there for the auction. Master Dalton here has won you for the evening."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you." What the fuck was going on? "Would you like to use one of the back rooms or shall we head home and leave room for the others?" Neil asked. They shared a fucking duplex, after all.
"We can go home, Neil. I know you've got a lot of questions."
"Excellent." Yeah, he had questions, mainly why? Why spend money on him? Maybe it was for Chris. Maybe Dalton didn't think he'd mourned long enough. Maybe Dalton just didn't think he deserved to get off yet. "I'll get dressed and gather my things and meet you there."
"No, I think you should come with me as you are. I'll drive you back to pick up your car tomorrow." Dalton turned and headed out, like he expected Neil to follow.
Seriously? Fucking seriously? At least he knew Dalton had a spare key to his house. Right?
"Come on, boy." Dalton didn't even turn around, just called out to him.
Neil didn't even have shoes on. He ducked his head and hurried out, a night of excitement turned somehow into one of shame. Great.
At least the charity had gotten some cash.