This story is purely fictional; any similarities to real life are compleyely coincidental. This story also contains male/male relationships, and explicit sex. If you are offended by this, this is obviously not the story for you. Enjoy.
Looking Deeper
Chapter one
Trey Clark Meets His Destiny
"I'm swimming deeper! (Deeper!) Sinking harder! (Harder!) Into this poison, That you call reason..."
My voice rang out loud, penetrating, and haunting in its low timber that is uniquely mine. The overpowering rush that flowed through me only intensified as the restless crowd and booming amps exploded with sound; my body rocked and swayed in ecstacy as I took in my surroundings. It's just another stage in another musky, smoke-filled club overflowing with society's outcasts and delinquents.
The kind of people little kids run away from while their mothers stare on in disgust. Yet, this is home to me; I belong here, and the blaring music prompted me to keep singing until I had no rage left to vent and the burning in my heart dulled to a mere ache.
"I'm stranded here, wondering when you're going to see
What you've taken from me (TAKEN FROM ME!) And as I close my eyes I drift back to that place I fear to be (FEAR TO BE!)
"I'm swimming deeper (Deeper!) Sinking harder (Harder!) Into this poison That you call reason...
"Hold me back! (Wait no!) Let me go! And watch me at a distance As I crumble out of this existance."
The song ended on a bleak violin/bass note as I once again scanned the crowd, waiting; searching. For what, I wasn't sure. Saving, acceptance, redemption, understanding maybe. But I saw nothing. The emptiness returned and I smiled; it failed to reach my eyes.
A wave of silence settled over my spectators as they stood there dumbfounded by my performance, but soon a collective roar erupted from them and I sighed. In their eyes, I am talented; a one-of-a-kind kid with my deep, resonating voice. But they only see the illusion. In reality, off this stage I am nothing to no one. The fucking that is sure to come will only serve to remind me how tainted I really am.
That's how all these gigs go. I play on their stage, sing using their mic and in return they get me. All of me. My band members don't know though; not even Kent Parker who has been my best friend since the second grade. I think about telling him sometimes, but then I think the shame would kill us both, literally.
The music finally died out and my band and I gathered our equipment and headed out. Kent was walking beside me and he was a real piece of work tonight; he could barely hold his excitement.
"Trey, did you see that scout? He was so digging our shit man! I even heard he might be interested in a demo! You know what that means? Man, I'm telling you, we'll have a record in no time, and fame, and all the hot chickas we want dude!"
As much as I love Kent, he's disillusioned and I rolled my eyes. It's always the same and that means no scouts, no deals, and no records. No fame, but that's fine with me. I don't need fame; if it comes, then it comes, but I'm not holding out on any kind of hope. I didn't tell Kent that though. He lives and breathes for the idea of fame, but not without good reason.
His family. They are the worst kind of people out there; druggies. Kent considers fame to be his only meal ticket out of the slums of Chicago and away from his family. Not that they'd be heartbroken. They're ashamed of Kent because he's `straight edged'; even if he doesn't look it. After seeing what drugs and alcohol can do to a person, a family, or a friend Kent swore to himself as a child that he would stay clean and build a real life for himself.
However, that's easier said than done. Especially when he's constantly being surrounded by the sweet poison, but he's held fast to his promise and to this day Kent's never even smoked.
For someone like me, an avid smoker and well known partier, that is amazing. I admire him for it, and I respect his decision to stay clean. I've even been known to encourage my friend to stay that way. I frequently get calls from Kent, saying he's about to drown himself with the damning substances and forget all his troubles. So I pick him up at his house and he stays a week or two at my place, which isn't really much, but it works.
I live in a two bedroom apartment with my guardian and principal; Blake. Mr. Rogers at school. Honestly, Blake is a good guy, but he's not my parents.
Ahhh, my parents...I don't like to dwell on them too much. I mean, they were here and now they're not. No big deal. Nope, I don't need my parents. Hell, I don't need anyone...especially my parents. And that dull ache I get in my chest whenever I think about them is nothing. Heartburn probably. Red meat does that to me, y'know? Yeah, meat does that, not memories of my parents.
"Trrrreeeeyyyy?! Hello?! Dude, yeah, back to earth please."
"Oh, sorry Mikey, I was zonin.'"
"No shit," he replied. "So, anyways, as I was saying, I think next week I can get us a gig up at the "The Lab" and..." As much as I tried to pay attention to what my bandmates were so excited about, I found myself tuning them out again.
Mikey Roberts is our bass player and he's a genius on the instrument. So good in fact that a couple months ago a very well known record company offered him a place n one of their up-and-coming bands after seeing him play only once. He turned them down. Yep, that's Mikey. Loyal to the end. He promised us that if he reached the top, we'd be right up there with him.
He's also the person who brought our band together, and we nicknamed him `leader'. He settles our band-related disputes and we can always count on him to be fair. He takes both sides into account and makes what he feels is the best decision for the band. Sometimes, he doesn't even like the decision that was made but it was the best for that band so he accepts it. He always explains his reasoning behind the decision so we don't feel like he is picking sides. To be honest, when he explains why he made the decision he did, we almost always agree with him so our disputes rarely last long, and for the most part, we are all satisfied in the end. For only being 19 and the oldest member in member in the band, Mikey is, when it comes to the band, mature and all business, which is why we put so much faith in his decisions.
There are five of us in the band. I'm the lead vocals. When Mikey approached me and asked me to sing for him, I thought he'd gone mad and told him so. He laughed and said I was crazy for not realizing what talent I had. I still told him no, though. It wasn't until he weasled Kent into BEGGING me to do it that I caved, and to my surprise I loved it. I still don't see what is so spectacular about my voice, but other people seem to love me for it. I figure they're just hearing or seeing something I'm not.
Kent is the lead guitarist, and he does for the guitar what Mikey does for the bass. It's like the instrument was made simply for Kent's hands; begging to be played by the 17-year-old master. Kent can do things with the guitar that most people, even famos rock stars, can't dream of doing. Of course, that's probably because he lives, breathes, sleeps, and even dreams the instrument. Every moment he isn't at school or playing the clubs with us, you can bet he's practicing with his guitar. Either honing his skills or learning new ones; like playing backwards. Yes, that's right, backwards.
Then there is John Lawrence. He's the back up guitar and though he doesn't have the skills Kent seemed to be born with, he more than makes up for it with his determination and uniqueness. John is one of those "outside-of-the-box-thinkers" who's always finding new ways to spice up our sound and style. He and I collaborate on the lyrics most of the time, while Kyle, our drums god, Kent, and Mikey focus on the song composition.
Where Kyle is loud and obnoxious, John is quiet and reserved. And annoyingly observant. If there is something wrong with one of us, he's the first one to notice it. It's useless to put on a fake smile around John because he can see right through it, and he's very sensitive to our, or anybody's, hurt. Needless to say, the rest of us have all spilled our guts out to John at one time or another. The only thing he doesn't know about me is my putting my ass on the line for gigs. Getting gigs is one of my "jobs" now. Since I got so good at getting us play-time, the guys never really thought about anyone else doing it. Of course, they'd kick my ass if they ever found out my whoring myself out.
It's not that they're homophobic. In fact, they've known about my "gayness", as they like to call it, ever since I tried to kiss Kyle one night while I was completely shit-faced. That was also the night we found out that John is gay, Kyle's bi, and the two have been seeing each other ever since they met.
In all my time of knowing John, I don't think I'd ever seen him so furious with me as he was that night. I felt terrible, and it was only after a week of grovelling, and a promise from me to never try to touch Kyle again that he forgave me. I never so much as fluttered my eyelashes at Kyle Nickson again.
Kyle. The dude is a total character and such a hottie, but then so are all of my bandmates. Kyle probably has it the easiest out of all of us. He lives in white suburbia right outside of Chicago, and lives like a king. His mom is a house mother and his dad is a lawyer. A fact that the rest of us get countless hours of enjoymentout of teasing him for . He hates it; we get a good laugh at his expense.
When I first met Kyle, I couldn't stand him. None of us could, except for John. Just seeing him pissed the rest of us off. He was always complaining about how his life sucked and how his parents never let him do anything fun, like party. I think it was mine and Kent's scathing comment about him at least lucky enough to have parents that gave a flying fuck about him that shut him up. He never complained again and is now one of my closest friends, and our drum god.
Kyle's been playing the drums since he was five years old. He can also play the piano, violin, trombone, guitar, bass, and he can sing. He has a very distinct ear for music, and he's a professional when it comes time to make and compose our songs. It's easy to feel inferior around Kyle but he never rubs his talent in our faces.
Kyle's also the most innocent guy I've ever met in my entire life! Just mention sex and he flushes a deep red that cracks all of us up. I was in one of those moods tonight so I decided to play a little with him.
"Heyyyyy, Kyle babay. Good show tonight huh, honey?" I asked, putting on my best "faggish" voice I could muster. Kyle look confused while John, who was walking beside his boyfriend, shot me a warning look. But seeing as how I ignored him, he settled for glaring. I blew him a kiss; sending Kent, Mikey, and even Kyle into a fit of giggles. "So anyways, Kyle, you planning on doing any celebrating tonight?"
"Uhhhh, well, ummm..."
"Oh, I know that stuttering. You and Jonny boy here planning on doing some of THAT celebrating , huh?" Kent spoke up, catching on instantly to my meaning. Sometimes it's good to have a friend who has known you for 10 years and can pick up on your thoughts right away.
"Nah, he can't do that. We've got a gig tomorrow. We don't need any sore asses on gig nights." Mikey piped in and we all burst out laughing as Kyle's face went an almost purple shade. We laughed harder when we saw John move in to throw his arm around Kyle's shoulders protectively, and send us a withering look that could have toppled a giant.
"Knock it off guys. Mine and Kyle's sex life is none of your business, so back off," John stated quietly, but the threat wasn't lost on us and we sobered in record time.
"WHOA! So wait, you guys have like..." Kent didn't finish his sentence, but rather used his hands in an obscene gesture to finish it for him. This made Kyle flush yet again and he actually nodded timidly. Kent and Mikey both laughed; it's not like they could help it. Kyle's embarassment about sex was just too cute and even John looked slightly flushed, even if he was giving the two other boys death glares.
However, the mention of sex reminded me of what I had to do tonight and my after- performance high came crashing down. I began to dread my "session" tonight with Big Joe; the club owner and his cronies. It's painful, and the guys who fuck me ensure that it is. They like to hear me scream, and scream I do as they rip into my ass over and over again. I'm always a mess of tears, blood, and semen when they finish; feeling dirty, sick, and broken.
I deserve this though. It's not like I'm actually woth anything. I'd be crazy to think anyone could ever really love me as I am. No, not after what I've done.
I felt someone watching me and when I looked up I almost groaned aloud when I noticed John studying me carefully. I knew he must have seen the look that was probably utter sorrow on my face because his eyes were questioning me as his brow furrowed. Before he could say anything though, I smiled that fake smile of mine and turned back to the guys and started teasing Kyle once again. I was hoping John would forget about it. He didn't, but that wasn't really a surprise to me. He kept looking over at me with this worried expression on his face, but then his expressioon turned into one of determination.
Oh shit. I know that look. He wants to talk, but there's no way I can tell him right? He'd tell the other guys and then I'd really have my ass reamed in a whole new way. Besides, how can I ever face them again if they found out? They'd think I was sick or demented and I can't deal with that. They are all I have now. No, I can't risk losing them and that means I can't tell John about how I get us gigs. Besides, doing shows and getting play-time is how a band gets recognized; if I just keep telling myself this is for the band, it's okay. I can do it.
"Hey guys, I gotta jet. Blake's gonna go postal on me if I come home late again. He's already moved my curfew to 11; I've only got 20 minutes to get home." I lied and felt like complete shit when Kent looked over me, confused. He knew I was lying; Blake hadn't moved my curfew up and we both knew it. I was glad when he didn't say anything though. He was just studying me with this unreadable look on his face. My guilt increased ten-fold. Here I was, lying to my best friends to go have my ass violated by some sick perverts.
It hurt inside, and John noticed immediately.
He had also noticed the exchange between Trey and Kent, and wondered what was going on. Obviously, something was up and he was going to find out just what it was. John was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't even notice when his boyfriend looked up at him, wondering what was going on in John's mind.
He was watching Trey closely, and Kyle felt a pang of jealousy surge through him. Oh, he knew John would never cheat on him but he still didn't like it when his boyfriend looked at other guys. He stood there and looked up at his boyfriend for a full minute, and realized that if he wanted John's attention he was going to have to get it. He flushed a bright red right before he brushed his hand right against John's. John looked down at Kyle, but Kyle couldn't bring himself to look in John's eyes. John laughed. How his boyfriend could be so bold one second and then become so meek the next was such a mystery to him, but it was one of the things John loved about him the most.
He leaned down and gave Kyle a lingering hug, while nipping, biting, and licking at his ear. Kyle shuddered and his dick hardened. John laughed again, and Kyle blushed furiously. It didn't help any that his band members had seen the whole thing, and were now teasing Kyle about his erection. He glared at John who was grinning from ear-to-ear. In retaliation, Kyle, becoming very bold, reached down and squeezed John's crotch until he was properly tenting his pants. It didn't have the effect he was looking for though. Kent and Mikey were telling him to save it for the bedroom, and John wasn't the least bit embarassed. Trey was no where to be seen.
I was walking up the stairs at a near snail pace of the second floor of the club our band had just perfomed in. John and Kyle had given me the perfect distraction, and I managed to slip away from the guys undetected. I was trying not to think too much about what was going to happen, which would probably explain why I collided with what felt like a brick wall. At first I wondered if I had indeed run into a wall, but when I looked up I was met with a pair of frigid blue eyes, surrounded by very dark skin. The contrast was breathtaking and I was entranced at first.
The guy was huge, his body was hardened; most likely from living on the streets like everybody who visited this club was. His expression was stony and I found myself wondering what he was thinking. I came out of my trance though, when out of nowhere I was knocked to the ground by a pair of fists. All the air left my body with an audible "whoosh", and I groaned. I was about to get up and ask the guy what the hell was his problem, but then I heard a voice. Big Joe. I froze, terrified.
"What da fuck ya thinkin' ya little cunt? Don't you know how to show respect to a real man when you see one?" The mysterious guy hadn't hit me, Big Joe had. I was just too proccupied and didn't notice. I tried to pick myself up only to be kicked in the stomach and I stayed down.
"Hey Joe, go easy on the kid." The guy bent down to help the kid up when Big Joe's next words stopped him.
"Awww, don't help the bitch up. Yeah, dats right, he's my bitch. Ain't ya kid?" The big black man stared down at Trey, the disgust plain as day in his eyes. But Joe liked white pussy, and that's all the kid was to him: pussy. "Well pussy boy you gonna answer me? Or am I gonna have to hurt you again?"
"Yeah, Big Joe, I'm your bitch." I responded, my shame flooding every pore in my body. I could feel the strangers eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look up. I knew he was probably disgusted with me. I mean, what guy actually admits to being another man's bitch? Not a real man, that's for sure.
"Hey," The stranger said softly, trying not to spook the kid. He looked scared enough, and the stranger could see why. Big Joe is scary, fortunately for him, he knows Joe is scared of him. If he wanted he could destroy Joe, take everything he has, and do it with ease. He had power and voice in the streets; everybody feared this teen. "What's your name kid?"
"Trey." I choked out, but it sounded raspy and strangled. I cleared my voice, and forced myself to look in this guy's eyes. "Trey Clark."
"How old are you Trey?"
"Seventeen." I replied, my voice sounding small even to me.
"Seventeen?! Jeezus Joe, what the fuck are you doing to this kid? He's not much younger than me here!"
Joe just shrugged. "Hey, if the pussy likes it, then what's the problem, Clay?"
Clay. So his name was Clay, and he wasn't much older than me.That was a weird thought, as he looked to be in his early twenties. Of course that could have been his size. The guy was built like a tank. He was at least 6'3 and seemed to tower over me like a skyscraper. I was just below 6 feet, so he wasn't that much taller than me, but he was ripped with muscles to St. Patricks Day. They weren't gym honed either. They were the muscles a man developed on the street, fighting to survive. His chilly, startling blue eyes seems to burn holes into me whenever he glanced at me. He was bald, black, and big; making him even more intimidating.
"Joe you're my dog, y'know that, but this shit aint right man." Clay said, looking over the kid. He was a couple inches shorter than himself, but he looked like he hadn't eaten a real meal in months. He didn't look emaciated, just thinner than should be normal for someone his height. He had a clear complexion and pale skin, like all white boys have. Usually Clay couldn't stand white boys, but this one was, dare he say it, beautiful. He had green-gray eyes, and full, pale pink lips. His hair was a natural shiny raven black shade that made his pale face stand out even more. He really was gorgeous.
"Clay, the kid and me have a deal. His shitty ass band plays in my club and me and my fellas get to fuck him. Now I know you aint about to come in between a deal right man?" Joe said, knowing that in the streets, deals are sacred and no man, no matter how powerful, comes between another man's deal. It was like begging for death. Big Joe had Clay, and they both knew it. Clay turned his frustrations on Trey.
"Are you stupid? What kind of man does that?"
I glared over at this Clay kid. I was tired of Big Joe and everyone else telling me I was less than a man for doing what I do. I snapped. "It's none of your fucking business what I do. It's my life, my decision, and there's nothing you can do about it. Besides what the fuck do you care anyways? You don't even know me, so what the hell is all this concern about? Joe and I have a system here, so stay out of it man!"
Clay looked over Trey. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright green and lost most of their grayish tint. His chest was heaving slightly, and he looked pissed. Clay frowned. Did the kid just yell at him?
"Enjoy your pussy, Joe." Clay sneered as he turned and walked down the hall, and turned to the stairs.
I watched his retreating form and was once again dreading my fast approaching ordeal. I stiffened when Joe pulled me into the room and slammed the door shut behind me, sealing me to my fate.
Author's note: Well that's it for the first chapter of Looking Deeper. This is my first attempt at submitting one of my stories to Nifty. Does is show? XD If you like, or even don't like this story you are free to send e-mails to kylie2mc@yahoo.com If you want to read more of this story I have a yahoo group:
groups.yahoo.com/group/Kylie2mc
Thanks, Kylie