Table of Contents: 

Steel and Crimson by Misa Izanaki - 2 

Cutting Sanity by Vic Winter -30 

Paper Cranes by Syd McGinley - 32 

Contributors' Bios - 61 

Steel and Crimson 

By Misa Izanaki 

The sun had set just as Bastian was getting out of bed. He 
could feel it, even through the windowless walls of his 
bedroom. The feeling was little more than a prickle on the 
back of Bastian's neck, but he knew all too well what even 
the briefest exposure to sunlight could do to him. 

It was the price Bastian's kind had to pay. Well, that and a 
need for human blood. It was a minor thing, really, 
considering all the gifts his vampiric nature gave him. 
Bastian healed almost instantly, his senses were 
heightened, as was his strength, and he was nearly 
immortal, as well. 

Of course, none of that helped when Bastian was lonely. He 
had his lover for that. Eri, the sweet imp of a boy who 
could melt Bastian's heart with a smile or a hopeful glance 
from those warm, whiskey-colored eyes. The boy was a 
handful, but one that Bastian gladly put up with. 

Bastian slipped into a silky black robe and headed into the 
living room. It was quiet in his condo, for once, which was 
odd for Bastian. He was used to hearing Eri putter about in 
the kitchen or something blaring on the TV. Bastian sat on 
the couch and listened a little harder. He could hear 
someone stepping up to his front door and a key slide into 
the lock. It had to be Eri, no one else had keys to Bastian's 
place. 

Sure enough, the door opened and a pretty young man, lithe 
and long-legged, stepped inside. "Basitan? Are you awake 
yet?" Eri grinned at Bastian and bounced over to the couch. 
"Oh, there you are!" 

"Hello, love." Basitan pulled Eri close and kissed those 
velvety lips. "Where have you been?" 

"I was too restless to sleep so I went for a walk." There was 
a very Cheshire-like smile on Eri's face. The boy was 
definitely up to something. "I got something for you. Well, 
for us." Eri sat down and pulled a small box out of the 
messenger bag slung across his chest. "Here, open it." 

Bastian took the box and tore off the wrapping paper. 
Inside was a small, ornate knife, an old eating dagger from 
the look of it. The handle was made from a smooth piece of 
antler or bone and the blade was the length of Bastian's 
palm with a single edge and etched with a Celtic dragon. 
Bastian ran his finger along the back of the blade. It was 
good steel, too, and would hold a nice sharp edge. "It's 
lovely, Eri. Where did you get it?" 

"That old antique shop near the park." Eri dropped his gaze 
quickly, hiding an almost guilty look behind a curtain of 
silky black hair. "I-I saw it and couldn't resist." 

"Please tell me you didn't steal this." Bastian nudge Eri's 
chin up, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. 

"I--" Eri seemed to think for a second before answering. He 
usually knew better than to try to lie, especially to Bastian. 
"Come on, Bastian, they'll never miss it. I found it in the 
back of the shop, half-buried under a pile of junk." 

Bastian sighed unhappily. He hated to think that Eri was 
slipping back into his old habits. "Eri, you don't live on the 
street anymore. If you need or want something, all you 
have to do is ask." 

"It doesn't help when I want to surprise you." Eri's eyes 
were pleading. "I would have paid for it if I had the 
money." 

"That's not the point, love." Bastian wrapped his fingers 
around Eri's wrist, just in case the boy tried to bolt. "We 
agreed, remember, no stealing or whoring while you're with 
me." 

"I know and I haven't slept around at all since we got 
together. You know that." 

"But you have been stealing, apparently." 

"It was just this one time and no one saw me." Eri was 
making sad puppy eyes at him. Oh, it was hard to stay 
angry when Eri did that, not that Bastian was terribly angry 
in the first place. He was more worried that Eri would get 
in trouble. The last thing either of them needed was the 
police showing up. "I didn't have any money on me, but I 
wanted to get you something cool, you know, since it is our 
anniversary and all." 

"Has it been two years already?" Bastian couldn't resist 
teasing. Eri was adorable when he pouted, and forgetting 
their anniversary would definitely get the boy going. Of 
course, Bastian had bought and squirreled away Eri's 
present over a week ago, but Eri didn't know that. 

"Don't pretend, Bastian." Eri poked playfully at Bastian's 
ribs. "I know you got me something and that it's in your 
closet, probably on the top shelf where I can't reach it." 

"You, my boy, are far too curious for your own good." 
Bastian tapped Eri on the nose and smiled contentedly at 
his lover. "It's a good thing that I love you." 

"I know, and I'm sorry I stole your gift." Eri made that sad 
puppy face again. "Forgive me?" 

"Of course I forgive you." Bastian ran his hand 
affectionately through his lover's soft hair. "Who else 
would put up with a grumpy old vamp like me?" 

"Don't talk like that. You're gorgeous and you know it." 

"I don't know." 

"Bastian, vamp or not, you are a sexy, sexy man." Eri 
closed his eyes and leaned into Bastian's touch. "How could 
I not fall for those sleek muscles, that long silver hair, or 
those amazing green eyes of yours?" 

"Flatterer." Bastian tugged on a bit of Eri's hair. 

"I try." Eri grinned back at him. "Does this mean I'm not in 
trouble anymore?" 

"Yes." Bastian nuzzled Eri's cheek. "And thank you for the 
knife. I do like it." 

"You're welcome." There was a hopeful and hungry look in 
Eri's eyes. "I was thinking maybe we could use it later." 

"You're so thoughtful, love." Bastian nuzzled Eri's neck, 
taking in the warm spice of his lover's scent. Eri was very 
tempting, but they had something to discuss before they did 
anything else. "But I need to ask you something first." 

Eri nodded, a mix of curiosity and worry on his face. Poor 
boy probably thought he was in trouble again. "Sure. What 
did you need to ask me?" 

"Do you remember that night?" The memory was crystal 
clear in Bastian's mind, but he wondered if Eri remembered 
it as well. "The first night we met?" 

"Yeah. It was raining and I was having a really hard time 
finding a trick. You showed up out of nowhere and offered 
me almost two hundred bucks for a little blood and sex. 
Granted, I didn't know what you meant until you fed on 
me." Eri laughed a little. It sounded like a good memory for 
him. "You were so gentle with me. I remember not wanting 
it to end." 

"I was very surprised that you were still curled up next to 
me when I woke up the next night." 

"I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. I just wanted to be with 
you." 

Bastian took both Eri's hands in his own and gave the boy 
and earnest look. "Do you still mean that?" 

"Of course, I do." Eri gave Bastian's hands a squeeze. "I 
love you." 

"Would you take my blood and spend eternity with me?" 
Bastian kissed Eri's fingers. Okay, now he sounded like a 
character out of some cheesy vampire novel, but it was a 
very serious question. If Eri took Bastian's blood, they 
would be bonded together and Eri's lifespan would extend 
to match his own. It was a big decision, especially for a 
mortal. Some people didn't care for the idea of spending 
hundreds of years with the same person. 

"Would I be a vampire, then?" Eri asked his warm, reddish-
brown eyes full of curiosity. 

"No, but my blood would pass on some of the vampiric 
gifts I have. You would be stronger, heal faster and you 
would live as long as I do." Bastian brushed his fingers 
over Eri's cheek. "You'd be twenty for as long as you 
wanted to be." 

"But what about sunlight and the whole blood drinking 
thing?" 

"You would only have to take a little of my blood every so 
often and you would still be able to go out in sunlight. 
You'd technically be my ghoul, but I've never liked the 
sound of that. Hmm, companion is a much better term, I 
think." 

"Let's do it." 

"Are you sure? I don't want you to jump into this without 
thinking about it." 

"There's nothing to think about." Eri wrapped his arms 
around Bastian's neck and snuggled close. "I love you and 
I'd like nothing better than to be with you forever, or how 
ever long we have." 

"Thank you, love." Bastian smiled happily as he lifted Eri 
to his feet. "You don't know how happy you've made me." 

"Mm, I'm sure you'll show me, though." Eri gave Bastian a 
mischievous wink. "At least I hope so." 

"I'll make sure you enjoy yourself." Bastian gave Eri a 
playful shove toward the bathroom. "Why don't you grab a 
shower? You're much more fun to play with when you're 
clean." 

"What are you going to do?" Eri tugged his T-shirt over his 
head and tossed it aside. He did the same with his jeans and 
boxers, leaving a trail of clothing in the hallway. 

"I'm going clean and sharpen the knife you gave me." 
Bastian followed Eri, herding him toward the main 
bathroom. "We can never be too careful with a new blade." 

"True enough," Eri leaned against the bathroom doorway, 
and shook a finger at Bastian. "Just don't take too long, 
okay? I know how you get when you have a new toy." 

"I won't. Now go shower." Bastian swatted at Eri as the boy 
ducked into the bathroom. "Wait for me in the bedroom 
when you're done." 

"I'm going, I'm going." Eri closed the door behind him. "If 
you're not finished when I get out of the shower, I'm 
starting without you." 

Once Bastian heard the water start up, he grabbed his new 
blade from the coffee table. It would be easier to work with 
Eri out of the way. The boy was a handful at the best of 
times and very distracting. The last thing Bastian needed 
was to be distracted. He needed to concentrate on honing 
the edge of the blade without damaging the etching or 
nicking the steel. 

Bastian took the knife to the kitchen and set it down on the 
counter near the sink. He pulled his whetstone out of the 
knife drawer and ran it under the faucet. Slowly, he drew 
the blade back and forth over the damp surface of the stone, 
grinding it down to razor sharpness. Bastian stopped and 
tested the edge on his thumb. It was perfect. 

Eri was still in the shower. Bastian could hear him singing 
over the rumble of the water. Eri liked to do that whether 
he had something to sing to or not. He had a good voice, 
though, so Bastian couldn't complain. In fact, Bastian rather 
enjoyed it when Eri sang. 

Bastian hummed along with Eri's tune and washed the 
knife. Once it was clean, Bastian dried it off and headed 
into the bedroom. He still had things to do while Eri was 
occupied. 

His newly-sharpened knife went on the bedside table and 
Bastian grabbed a set of old sheets out of the closet. The 
sheets went onto the bed, just in case. He hated to toss out 
good sheets just because he got careless and got blood on 
them. There had to be lube, too. He just hoped he could 
find it. Bastian sighed; they were always losing the lube. 
Last time, it had been half-buried in one of the bathroom 
drawers. This time, it was under the bed. It must have 
rolled under there the night before. He set the bottle on the 
bedside table as well and waited for Eri. 

As an afterthought, Bastian dimmed the bedroom lights and 
lit the candles on either side of the bed. It definitely made a 
difference. There was enough light so that he and Eri would 
be able to see, but everything was muted and soft. 

"Ooh, it looks so romantic in here." Eri peeked into the 
bedroom. He was still damp and wearing nothing but a 
towel and a wicked little smile. "Someone must be feeling 
frisky." 

"I can't help it." Bastian scooped his lover up and nuzzled 
the velvety skin of Eri's throat. He twirled the boy around 
before setting him on the bed. "You smell so good, so 
tasty." 

"Poor baby, I'll bet you're hungry." Eri tossed his towel 
aside and held his arms out. "Come here and I'll make it all 
better." 

"Mmn, promise?" Bastian shrugged off his robe and 
climbed in beside Eri. He kissed Eri's palm and flicked his 
tongue over the veins in the boy's wrist. Bastian could feel 
the blood pulsing beneath Eri's skin, he could smell it and 
that just made him hungrier. 

While most vampires bit their prey, Bastian and Eri had a 
different way of doing things. Knives were much neater, as 
far as Bastian was concerned, and it played into Eri's 
pleasure as well. 

Eri picked up the knife from the bedside table and dragged 
the tip across his palm. Bastian could see the pleasure on 
his lover's face as the blade cut into his skin. Blood welled 
and puddled brightly against Eri's pale skin. Bastian 
pressed his mouth against Eri's palm and drank. 

After a few seconds, the cut sealed itself, leaving them both 
hungry for more. It was all part of their game. Eri liked the 
feel of metal biting into his skin and the healing properties 
of Bastian's vampiric saliva ensured that he didn't bleed to 
death. 

"Cut me again, please, Bastian," Eri pleaded. He pushed the 
knife into Bastian's hand. "It feels so good." 

"Whatever you want, love." Bastian sliced into the skin just 
above Eri's nipple, drawing more blood. He flicked his 
tongue over the wound and licked it clean. 

Once one cut was gone, Bastian would make another and 
lap the blood away and, each time, Eri would whimper and 
arch wantonly off the bed. He was so beautiful, so eager, 
that he made Bastian hungry in a very different way. 

Bastian licked the last bit of blood off the blade of his knife 
and set it back on the bedside table. He wasn't quite full 
yet, but feeding could wait. Bastian had other needs and he 
was sure Eri would be willing to sate those as well. 

"Why are you stopping?" Eri blinked at Bastian worriedly. 
His voice was breathy and soft and, from the sound of 
things, he didn't want Bastian to stop. Bastian was very 
surprised that the boy hadn't come yet. "That couldn't have 
been enough blood for you." 

"I can eat again later, love." Bastian shifted so he was face 
to face with his pretty lover and licked those velvety lips. "I 
have other plans for you and that lithe little body of yours." 

"Are you sure?" Eri arched a little, pushing his eager cock 
against Bastian's hip. He was rock hard and smearing pre-
come against Bastian's skin. "It wouldn't hurt if you took a 
little more." 

"If I drain you too much, you'll have no energy for sex." 
Bastian sat up and stroked Eri's prick with his fingers. 
"That wouldn't be very fun, would it?" 

"True, and I do like it when you fuck me." Eri pushed 
himself up and nuzzled Bastian's neck. "Especially when 
you do it nice and hard." 

Bastian felt his cock twitch eagerly as Eri continued to 
whisper dirty little nothings at him. Eri knew how to get 
him going. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. 

It wouldn't do if he came before Eri did. "I have one more 
thing for you, though." 

"Bastian, presents can wait. I thought you wanted to fuck." 
Eri cupped Bastian's balls in his palm before sliding his 
hand up the thick shaft of Bastian's cock. "This doesn't look 
like it wants to wait for one more thing." 

"It will." It was hard not to lift his hips and fuck Eri's hand, 
but Bastian managed. He cocked his head toward the 
bedside table. "Get our new toy, will you?" 

"Um, okay." Eri reached over and picked up the knife. 
"Now what?" 

Bastian leaned his back against the headboard and patted 
his lap. "Bring it here." 

Eri straddled Bastian's lap, knife in hand and gave Bastian a 
curious look. "Do you need more blood? I knew you should 
have taken more." 

"No, love, I want to give you some of mine." Bastian held 
his hand out to Eri. "Cut me." 

"I guess now is a good time as any, right?" Eri cautiously 
drew the blade against the tip of Bastian's finger. It was 
sweet, really, that Eri looked so concerned. "I-I hope it 
doesn't hurt too much." 

"It's fine, love." Bastian held his bleeding finger up, 
offering it to his lover. "Now, drink." 

Without hesitation, Eri took Bastian's finger in his mouth 
and sucked on it gently. Eri's lips were soft against 
Bastian's digit and that warm, wet tongue made the 

sensation all the more erotic. He stopped, almost 
reluctantly, as the cut healed itself. "Oh, you taste good." 

"How do you feel?" 

"Okay, I--" Eri blinked. Bastian watched as the expression 
on Eri's face shifted from curious to needy. He ran his 
hands over Bastian's chest. "I never noticed how soft your 
skin is." Eri moved against Bastian's lap, rubbing his cock 
against the hard muscles of Bastian's stomach. "You feel so 
nice." 

"My blood probably heightened your sense of touch, first." 
That certainly could make things interesting. Bastian 
caught Eri's hand in his own and sucked on one of the boy's 
fingers. He flicked his tongue against the soft skin and 
nipped gently. "The rest will come later." 

"Bastian, I-- oh!" Eri moaned and tossed his head back as 
hot come splashed against Bastian's stomach. Eri slumped 
forward panting softly. "Damn..." 

"Good?" 

"I'll say." Eri rolled off of Bastian's lap and scooted closer 
to the bedside table. He set the knife back down and 
grabbed the lube. "Can you imagine what sex is going to be 
like?" Eri trailed his free hand down his chest and stroked 
himself. "Oh, that fat cock of yours is going to blow my 
mind." 

"Come here, you naughty thing." Bastian wrapped his 
fingers around Eri's wrist and pulled the boy against his 
chest. 

"Wait, Bastian." Eri seemed to have gotten another idea in 
his head. Bastian could tell by the mischievous grin on the 
boy's face. "I want you to watch me for a bit, while I lube 
myself up." 

"How can I say no to that?" Bastian brushed his fingers 
against Eri's cheek. His lover liked to put on a show and 
Bastian was more than willing to watch. 

Eri knelt on the mattress with his knees spread slightly and 
one hand on the headboard. It gave Bastian a perfect view 
of that pert ass of his. He squirted a glob of lube into his 
hand and slicked it up. Eri slipped two fingers between his 
cheeks and teased the tight pucker between them. Both 
digits pushed inside, making Eri groan. 

"You look so sexy like that." Bastian knelt behind Eri, 
watching those fingers slide in and out of his lover's tight 
little body. "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good." Eri gasped as Bastian nipped on his shoulder. "I 
like the friction and when I push deep." 

"Take another one, love." Bastian whispered, nibbling on 
Eri's ear. "Three fingers will feel even better than two." 

"I will if you touch yourself for me." Eri glanced back, the 
lust clear on his face. "I want to see you stroke that thick 
cock." 

Bastian nodded and shifted so he and Eri could watch each 
other. It was pretty sexy, actually. Something about those 
whiskey-brown eyes watching him so intently while he 
touched himself was a real turn-on. Bastian grabbed the 
lube off the bed and dripped some of the slick stuff into his 

hand. He wrapped his slippery fingers around his cock and 
stroked himself slowly. 

"Oh, Bastian, my sexy vamp." Eri smiled at Bastian and 
slipped a third finger into his ass. After a few easy thrusts, 
Eri eased his fingers out and brushed them against Bastian's 
cock. "Fuck me, please?" 

"I thought you'd never ask." Bastian pulled Eri closer and 
kissed him hard. 

Eri slipped his arms around Bastian's neck and pulled his 
lover down onto the bed. Eri sprawled on his back, his pale 
skin almost glowing in the candlelight. Damn, he was 
gorgeous. 

Bastian settled between Eri's long legs and guided himself 
into the boy's sweet ass. Oh, damn! Tight, slick heat 
engulfed Bastian's prick as Eri clung to him. Once Eri's grip 
relaxed a little, Bastian started to move. He fucked his 
pretty lover with quick, deep strokes. Eri kissed him again 
and lifted his hips, meeting each of Bastian's thrusts. 

One position morphed into another as Bastian leaned back 
until he was sitting against the headboard with Eri in his 
lap. Eri bit back a moan and gave Bastian another eager 
look. Oh, he must have liked that. 

"You feel so good inside me." Eri purred as he started to 
move. He rocked back, riding Bastian's cock. 

"Mmn, and you're so tight." Bastian nipped at Eri's neck 
with a groan. Oh, he was close. They both were. 

Eri came first. That lithe little body tensed and shuddered 
as the orgasm hit the boy. Bastian wasn't far behind, how 

could he be, with Eri clenching around him and milking the 
come right out of him? 

Bastian lay back with his lover slumped against his chest. 
Eri was panting breathlessly and he looked tired but very 
content. Bastian brushed a bit of sweat damp hair out of 
Eri's eyes. "Are you okay? I didn't break anything, did I?" 

"I'm fine, just a little worn out." 

"Well, a nap might be in order, all things considered." 

"Oh, that does sound good." Eri tugged the blankets around 
them. "But we can't sleep for too long, I still have a present 
to open." 

"That you do." Bastian smiled and kissed Eri on the 
forehead affectionately. "Now get some rest. I'll wake you 
in a little bit." 

"Okay." 

Bastian had meant to stay up and watch Eri sleep, but he 
ended up dozing off himself. Eri's warmth was so relaxing, 
he couldn't help it. When he woke up again, the bed was 
empty. He listened closely, only to hear someone 
rummaging in the kitchen. Ah, that's where Eri was. 
Bastian pulled a large and brightly wrapped box from the 
top shelf of his closet and headed off to find his lover. 

Eri didn't seem to hear Bastian enter or set his present down 
on the kitchen table, for that matter. He was humming to 
himself as he rummaged through the refrigerator. Some sort 
of meat wrapped in butcher paper, two potatoes, and a 
random assortment of veggies sat on the counter beside 
him. Eri must have worked up quite an appetite. 

"What are you up to?" 

"I was hungry so I thought I'd make us some dinner." Eri 
closed the fridge with a shrug. "How do a couple of nice 
rare steaks sound?" 

"Sounds good." Bastian's stomach growled at the thought 
of a bloody steak. Despite what most vampire myths said, 
Bastian could eat and rather enjoyed food even if it wasn't a 
necessary part of his diet. "But tomorrow, I'm taking you 
out. It's been far too long since we had a night on the 
town." 

"Oh, that would be fun." Eri threw his arms around 
Bastian's neck and hugged him tightly. "Thank you!" 

"You deserve it, love." Bastian kissed Eri on the cheek. 
"Now come here and open your present." 

"Yay, presents!" Eri sat himself at the kitchen table and 
opened the box. His face lit up as he lifted his present up. It 
was a Victorian frock coat made from forest green suede 
and trimmed with ornate silver buttons. Eri had seen a 
similar coat online once and wanted one ever since. It 
seemed like a perfect gift. "Oh, Bastian, it's amazing." 

"I had to call in a few favors to get that made, but I think it 

was well worth the effort." Bastian ruffled Eri's hair. "I'm 
sure you'll be breathtaking in it." 

Eri held the jacket against his chest and sniffled. Tears 
welled in those big brown eyes of his. "Bastian, you didn't 
have to do this." 

"Oh, love, why are you crying?" Bastian knelt in front of 
Eri and cupped the boy's face in his hand. "I thought you'd 
be happy." 

"I am." Eri set the jacket down and wiped his face with the 
back of his hand. "It just makes me think, that's all." He 
gazed back at Bastian and smiled despite the tears. "It just 
makes me realize how much you mean to me, how much I 
owe you." 

"I don't know about that." Bastian leaned closer and rested 
his head on Eri's lap. "I'd be lost without you." 

"And I'd probably be dead if I hadn't met you that night." 

"I doubt that. You were a resourceful boy." Bastian lifted 
his head and tapped Eri affectionately on the nose. "You 
survived all those years without me." 

"Maybe so, but I didn't really want to live until I met you." 
Eri gave Bastian the most heart felt look Bastian had ever 
seen. "I let my johns cut me because I didn't care if I bled to 
death or not. I was just waiting for one of them to cut too 
deep so I wouldn't have to worry about being beaten or 
being hungry anymore." 

"Have things changed so much, though?" Bastian eyed his 
lover worriedly. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of 
Eri's words. They also made him feel a little guilty. After 
all, Bastian was using Eri's fetish to his convenience 
despite what the boy had been through. "I cut you and I 
bleed you like the others before." 

"It's not the same, Bastian." Eri pushed Bastian's chin up 
and smiled adoringly at him. "I trust you and I know that 

you'd never hurt me or let me die. That's why I can share 
those things with you." 

"You put too much faith in me, love." Bastian got to his 
feet. It was flattering that Eri believed in him that much, 
but a little unsettling, too. He just hoped that he wouldn't 
disappoint the boy. 

"I don't know about that." Eri stood and snuggled against 
Bastian's side. "It's been two years and you haven't 
disappointed me yet." 

"It has been fun, hasn't it?" Bastian leaned close and kissed 
the top of Eri's head. 

"I think so." Eri grinned and patted Bastian on the ass. 
"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to start dinner. I'm 
famished." 

"Do you need any help?" 

"Hmm, Could you peel these for me and cut them into 
cubes?" Eri tossed the potatoes toward Bastian. 

"Sure thing." Bastian headed to the sink and started 
working on the potatoes. He felt almost domestic helping 
Eri in the kitchen. It was definitely something Bastian 
could get used to. Then again, he couldn't imagine a life 
without his sweet lover. Whether Eri believed it or not, the 
boy had changed Bastian's life and Bastian was all the 
better for it. Both of their lives were. 

Cutting Sanity 

By Vic Winter 

Somewhere, there was a display case with a knife missing. 
A whetstone, too, because a dull knife wouldn't have the 
sharp edge Jeremy wanted. No, that wasn't right. He didn't 
want this; he needed it. Jeremy figured there was a world of 
difference in those two little words, even though they were 
supposed to be... what was that fancy word for words that 
meant the same thing, or close enough for government 
work? That's right, synonyms. Want and need were 
synonyms, but in Jeremy's experience, they didn't mean the 
same thing at all. 

He didn't steal things he wanted, only the stuff he needed. 
And Jeremy needed that knife. Maybe he didn't need it so 
much as Mitch did. What Jeremy needed was to give Mitch 
what Mitch needed. That was just how it worked. 

They'd hooked up a few years ago when Jeremy's folks had 
finally found out he was gay and cut off his funding. No 
more university, no more dorm room, no more cafeteria 
food tickets, and no more money. He was dead to them, 
apparently. He liked to joke that in lieu of a funeral, they 
could give him the cash they would've spent on one. Of 
course the only problem with that was he wasn't really 
dead. 

So Jeremy'd found himself on the street, not at all street-
wise, and that was when he'd met Mitch. The man was a 
little older than him, probably in his early thirties and 
Jeremy was pretty sure Mitch was a veteran, but he didn't 
know for sure. Mitch didn't talk much about himself. He 
took care of Jeremy, though, and soon enough that had 
become love. Not cupboard love, either. It was like they 
were made for each other. Meant to be. 

It sure made Jeremy wonder, though. What would have 
happened if he'd never been kicked out? If his parents had 
been all cool and hip and 'we support our gay son', how 
would Jeremy have met Mitch? He'd never been the type 
who spat on the homeless, or beat them up or anything, but 
he didn't make eye contact, he didn't look at them at all if 
he could help it. It had been kind of like if he didn't look at 
them, then they didn't exist. How could that guy have ever 
hooked up with his one true love? 

So it was kind of funny, to think that the only reason he'd 
found the love of his life was because he'd been homeless, 
at his lowest point, really, himself. They said God had a 
sense of humor, and clearly they were right. God or fate or 
kismet or whatever you wanted to call it. Or maybe it was 
because you only really appreciated the good stuff in your 
life if it was surrounded by shit. 

Anyway. The point was that Mitch took care of him, had 
been ever since his lover had found him on day three of 
living on the streets, curled up on himself and crying in the 
rain. It was actually week two of having been killed by his 
parents, figuratively anyway, as it had taken a week to find 
out that his so-called friends were rather fair-weather and 
having to put up a guy with nothing to offer who'd been 
kicked out of life by his parents was clearly on the stormy 
side of said weather. Mitch had taken care of him ever 
since then. 

Sometimes, on really dark days, Mitch was the one who 
needed taking care of. He'd get really low, especially if 
they were struggling to stay warm and fed. Mitch always 
felt like he'd failed Jeremy if they missed food for a day. 
That could build into something powerful in a man like 
Mitch. 

Jeremy knew how to turn the switch, how to ease Mitch 
before that something blew and he lost his lover altogether. 

Which is why he'd stolen the knife and the whetstone and 
was meeting Mitch in the train yards. They were taking the 
cross-country cargo load as far as Arizona, where at least 
having no roof over your head didn't leave you freezing to 
death. On the way, Jeremy was going to help Mitch get his 
mojo back. 

*** 

There was something soothing about the clackity clack of 
the tracks beneath the wheels of a train on the go. The car 
they were in was empty save for them and their meagre 
belongings. It smelled okay, too, so it probably hadn't had 
anything yucky in it in recent history. 

Jeremy had spread out their two shelter blankets and topped 
them with the battered quilt Mitch said came from his 
grandmother. Jeremy didn't know if it was really true or 
not, but they made their own history in the streets and so he 
chose to believe it. It was worn and old, that much was 
clear, which made it soft and comfortable. 

Mitch had fought him, fought getting onto the train. He had 
some idea that he was the provider and if Jeremy was 
wanting for anything then he wasn't doing his job, so he 
was the one who decided where they went, he was the one 
who found ways to stay warm and fed and all the good 
stuff. Jeremy'd just pointed at the car and glared until Mitch 
had finally hauled himself up and into it. They'd be able to 
ride all the way as long as they didn't make noise or a mess. 
The engineer on this run always had an empty car or two 

and he was happy to look the other way as long as that 
didn't bring trouble or mess with it. 

Jeremy and Mitch always made sure to keep the cars they 
rode in top notch shape and clean, and they stayed quiet. 
Like ghosts. 

Well, maybe not this time, but the moon was shining 
brightly in through the slats so they wouldn't need any 
other light and the noise of the wheels on the tracks would 
more than cover up any noise Mitch might make. Jeremy 
had a brand new roll of paper towel to clean up any mess 
that might get made, too. Yeah, maybe a knife wasn't the 
only thing missing somewhere, but he didn't let that bother 
him. 

Mitch lay on the quilt, buck naked, clothes neatly folded 
next to him, wrapped in his coat. If they had to make a 
sudden break for it, he only had the one thing to grab. The 
dark eyes watched every move Jeremy made as he slowly 
worked the blade on the whetstone, making it sharp as 
could be. 

"You don't have to do this," Mitch told him in that rough, 
worn voice Jeremy loved so much. 

"I know I don't have to, but you need me to do it." 

"Do not. I'm fine." 

"You'd say you were fine even if you were bleeding out 
from a gunshot wound." 

Mitch actually cracked a smile at that. "Yeah, maybe I 
would." 

Jeremy stripped down to his skin, too -- his clothes weren't 
clean enough to be rubbing up against a naked Mitch. It 
was just this side of cold and his skin broke out into goose 
bumps. They disappeared when he straddled Mitch, though. 

Pretty much everything disappeared when he straddled 
Mitch. His body got all hot, his cock going "hello!" right 
away. He was going to have to just ignore it, though, 
because he had stuff to do for Mitch -- to Mitch -- first, 
before anything else happened. Anything else might not 
even happen, it all depended how this went, how Mitch felt 
when he was done. 

Mitch was too much in his head right now, worrying about 
things he couldn't control and all wrapped up in how if he 
couldn't provide for Jeremy he wasn't a man or something 
equally macho. 

Jeremy was less about the macho and more about the 
loving and being happy and he sure as hell didn't need a 
whole lot to get there. Being with Mitch pretty much 
covered it. Sure, it was nice if his belly got filled at least 
once a day, but he'd been hungry before, he'd be hungry 
again. 

Mitch made him feel like he belonged somewhere, like 
there was one person on earth who'd always be there for 
him, always take him in. He'd heard people say home is 
where they have to take you in and he'd found out the hard 
way, that had nothing to do with who shared blood with 
you. Mitch was his home, which meant he was always 
there. 

Eyes closed, Mitch drew in a deep breath, his body tense 
under Jeremy's. "I'm fine," murmured Mitch, the gravelly 
voice making Jeremy shiver in a good way. 

"You're not." He knew Mitch wasn't, just like he knew 
Mitch would never admit it. Not without a little help, 
anyway. Sometimes Jeremy needed to be the strong one, 
even if it was just for awhile, and Mitch had to let that 
happen. 

Jeremy took the knife and very carefully drew the tip along 
the top inside of Mitch's right arm. He was careful to only 
break the skin here and there, leaving a long scratch in the 
path of the blade. 

Mitch's body went tight and his teeth clenched, but he 
didn't say a word, and he didn't move an inch. He was still 
holding back, still pretending like he was just fine. 

Jeremy repeated the motion on Mitch's left arm, then on the 
right and left forearms. It wasn't until he pressed the knife 
near Mitch's collarbone that a sound was drawn from 
Mitch's chest. It sounded like a cry torn from a broken 
throat and it made Jeremy pause and lift his knife from 
Mitch's skin. It made him pant quietly. He'd never had to 
cut more than this before. He wasn't sure how many more 
cuts he could make. 

Mitch's eyes opened slowly, the rich brown staring into 
Jeremy. "I'm not fine," Mitch said softly. 

Jeremy nodded. "I know." 

He laid a couple more cuts on Mitch's pecs, these short, 
staccato. Mitch cried out with each one; the sounds torn 
from his throat sounded painful, raw. When Jeremy laid 
down the knife, Mitch shuddered, his body shaking. 

Jeremy lay down on top of his lover, holding on tight as 
Mitch's body worked to let go of the pain and the worry. 

He didn't know how long it lasted; he wasn't keeping track. 
It didn't matter anyway, they had lots of time before they 
had to worry about getting off the train and had to deal with 
the world again. He just held on as it all came out of Mitch. 
Shakes and cries and shouts filled the rail car and Jeremy 
just held on, held Mitch together. 

Mitch finally fell asleep and Jeremy pulled the edge of the 
quilt over them both. He laid his head back down on 
Mitch's chest, utterly exhausted, and slept, too. 

*** 

When Jeremy woke up, his stomach was growling and he 
could see the sun beginning to set through the slats of the 
rail car. He was snuggled and warm, though, wrapped up in 
Mitch's arms and the quilt. He could feel Mitch beginning 
to wake up, the body beneath him starting to stir. 

Smiling, he kissed Mitch's pec, right next to one of the little 
cuts he'd left there. Then he found the others and kissed 
beside them as well. Mitch stirred some more, voice 
growlier than ever as he woke up. "You cut me." 

Nodding, Jeremy kissed next to the last cut he'd made, the 
one closest to Mitch's right nipple. 

"Brat." 

That made him laugh. Mitch hadn't called him that in a 
long time. "I'm too old to be a brat anymore." 

"You'll always be younger than me, squirt." 

Face wrinkling, Jeremy looked down at Mitch. "You're just 
saying that to get my goat." 

"Yep." 

Jeremy stuck his tongue out at Mitch. 

They were laughing together as their lips met, the kiss 
sloppy because of it. It made Jeremy's heart happy, though. 
Mitch was feeling better, could tease and joke and love 
without all the weight of the world on him. His stomach 
growled again and he mentally told it to shut up, he was 
going to live on love until they got off the train early 
tomorrow morning. Then they could scrounge up some 
food. 

Until then, they would, indeed, haveto live on love. A 
smarmy, sappy cliché and Jeremy didn't care at all. He'd 
never been all that happy when he'd had three squares a 
day, hiding who he really was, scared people were going to 
find out. Mitch knew all his secrets and still loved him, 
wanted him, and even needed him, and that made going a 
day or two before the next meal all the easier. 

"You're hungry," murmured Mitch -- he'd obviously heard 
Jeremy's stomach doing its dance of emptiness. 

"It doesn't matter." It didn't. And it wasn't Mitch's 
responsibility to change it, and it didn't make Mitch a 
failure if he didn't provide for every single want Jeremy 
had. 

Mitch's mouth opened and Jeremy knew his lover was 
going to protest, to start to fuss and fret again. Before 
Mitch could start down that road, Jeremy pressed his thumb 

against the cut on Mitch's inner arm. Mitch gasped and 
bucked up against him. 

Smiling, Jeremy brought their mouths back together again 
and kissed Mitch with all he had. Pretty soon, Mitch was 
kissing back, tongue pushing into his mouth, fucking his 
lips. Jeremy's cock liked that action plenty, and it filled, 
sliding along the hollow beside Mitch's hip. 

Making a happy little noise, Jeremy sawed his hips, making 
his dick rub against Mitch's skin over and over and over 
again. He could feel the good building up inside him and he 
cried out, wanting to share it with Mitch, but not able to do 
more than keep rubbing and make that wanton little noise. 

He didn't want to be alone in this, though -- loving was no 
fun by yourself, so he grabbed at Mitch's half-hard cock 
and started tugging. He wanted it as hard as his own. He 
wanted Mitch to need this as much as he did. 

He wasn't disappointed. 

Soon Mitch's dick was fully hard and the strong hips found 
a new rhythm, pushing up against him as he pushed down. 
Jeremy could have come like this, but he wanted more and 
he said so, the word coming out plaintive, but clearly 
needy. Mitch responded by flipping them, putting him 
underneath his lover's bigger, stronger body. 

He looked up and met Mitch's eyes, smiled at the love and 
need he saw there. "There's slick stuff in my jeans pockets." 
He'd snatched some of that in the same store he'd found the 
paper towel at. 

"Are you asking me to fuck you?" 

He nodded his "Yes." He wanted very much for Mitch to 
fuck him. He might actually say he needed Mitch to do it, 
because otherwise, he wouldn't have nicked the lube. 
Jeremy didn't steal things just because he wanted them; he 
only took what he needed. And he and Mitch, they needed 
the lube because they needed each other and they needed to 
fuck like everybody did. 

Mitch went over to find his jeans and the stuff in the front 
pocket and Jeremy spread his legs, heels on the ground in 
an offer to Mitch. His cock just wanted to come and didn't 
care how he did it, but he needed to feel Mitch inside him. 
He had a hunch Mitch needed to be there. 

His lover crawled up between his legs and got a finger or 
two slick before holding them against Jeremy's hole. The 
movement of the train slid the slick fingers back and forth 
across his hole and Jeremy cried out. It felt so good: strong 
right where Mitch was touching him, but the sensations 
travelled up inside him, to his cock, to his belly, along his 
spine and he swore all the way to his toes. 

It got bigger when Mitch started pushing into him. 

The clackity clack of the wheels on the tracks led Mitch's 
fingers as they moved in and out. Jeremy swore he could 
feel the vibrations coming up from the rail car floor and 
meeting the sensations caused by Mitch's fingers. It didn't 
really matter how it was happening, though. All that 
mattered was how good he felt and how it just kept getting 
better and better. 

It wasn't exactly comfortable when Mitch started spreading 
him with those fingers instead of just fucking him with 
them. The stretch burned a little, but it faded quickly and 
left behind a bigger pleasure, a better good. He gasped, hips 

starting to move. He was restless, he needed something 
more. He needed Mitch. 

"Please. Mitch. You've gotta..." 

Mitch's fingers slid out of him and Mitch's cockhead 
pressed against his hole. Leaning forward as his cock slid 
into Jeremy, Mitch whispered, "You still need me." 

"Always! Always need you." Sharp gasps punctuated his 
words. God, Mike felt so big, so ginormous right at the 
beginning of this. Then, just like when it was Mike's 
fingers, the pain faded and instead there was just so much 
good that Jeremy didn't even have the words to explain. 

He just knew that nothing else mattered right now. There 
was no past, no future. No knives or parents or things that 
go bump in the night. There was just him and Mitch and the 
place where their bodies were joined together. 

Jeremy wanted to stay right there forever, because that was 
a perfect place, but perfect places weren't real, not if they 
lasted too long. Mitch's rhythm became full of jerks and 
grunts as he got close and Jeremy smiled into his lover's 
eyes as he came, the pleasure breaking over him like the 
water from a shower, moving through him fluidly. 

Mitch was careful when he was done, easing out and 
cleaning Jeremy with one of the paper towels, settling next 
to him and pulling him into the strong arms. Words 
whispered quietly across the top of his head, "Love you, 
Jeremy." 

Jeremy smiled, mouthed the words back against Mitch's 
chest. Mitch was better and he'd been the one to do that. 

He was going to keep that knife. Not for protection or for 
cutting up food or anything. He was going to keep it safely 
wrapped at the bottom of his pack with the whetstone for 
the next time Mitch needed him like that. 

Somewhere there was a display case missing a knife. Right 
here there were two homeless men not missing a thing. 
Jeremy figured that pretty much evened things out. 

Paper Cranes 

By Syd McGinley 

Paper Cranes takes place two months after Wax on, Wax 
Off. 

Tommy dreaded Dr. Tanaka coming home. 

He wasn't sure he could handle what he had to tell his 
owner. Tommy groaned and ran his hands through his 
damp hair. He'd wept until he was exhausted, and then 
showered to try to wash away his tearstains and misery. 

He sat in his workroom, desultorily combing out his hair, 
and fussing with his now-to-be-abandoned origami project. 
He stacked some sheets of colored paper, and fiddled with 
his pens and markers. How could he hurt his Sensei? 

Tommy swept the stack aside and watched the sheets 
shower down. 

"Fuck," he said. The petulant moment hadn't worked as a 
vent at all, and now he had to pick them all up. Each piece 
that he scrabbled off the floor was just salt in the wound. 

He snatched one up, smoothed it out, and prepared to make 
one last paper crane. To his chagrin, he'd struggled with 
learning how to make a crane. Sensei had teased him and 
said all Japanese children could fold one, but the evening 
spent with Dr. Tanaka being tutored in a basic origami 
shape had been a peaceful and, yes, a romantic time. 

He rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. Dr. Tanaka would be 
irritated to see him sniffling. His owner preferred dignity 
even in emotional moments. Today shouldn't be different. 

He uncapped his X-Acto knife and started trimming the 
colored paper to a perfect square. He and Olivia had been 
working together to make one thousand paper cranes. They 
had bickered affectionately about who would have the wish 
when they succeeded. 

"Shit," said Tommy, and crumpled the crane before it was 
even started. His tears had made him clumsy, and blood 
was pooling on his finger. He bit his lip hard while he 
recapped the knife, and staunched the bleeding. Only then 
did he sit on the floor amidst the remaining paper, put his 
head on his knees, and weep. 

"This is most disgraceful, Tommy." 

Tommy moaned, and uncurled because he knew he must. 
He knelt. 

"What is going on? My tea is not ready, your studio is 
disordered, and you--" 

"Katashi!" blurted Tommy. "I'm sorry!" 

Dr. Tanaka's face froze. "I have told you, Tommy, that 
Katashi is only for public." 

"Hai, Sensei, but--" 

"And you interrupted me." 

"Sensei!" 

Dr. Tanaka hissed, but waited. 

Tommy swallowed hard. "I have bad news. I am sorry that 
I was unprepared, and I spoke badly. I planned to serve tea, 
and then be dignified with the news." 

"Stand up. Perhaps we need to look in our faces for this 
moment." 

Tommy staggered as he stood, and his owner caught his 
wrist to help him. Dr. Tanaka frowned at the caked blood 
around Tommy's nail, but said nothing. 

Tommy took a breath, and looked Dr. Tanaka in the eyes. 

"Sensei, Olivia is dead." 

There was silence in the room. Then Tommy heard a soft 
grunt from his owner. 

"Make my tea, Tommy-chan. Pick this mess up. And braid 
your hair. We will talk once you are orderly." 

"Hai, Sensei," whispered Tommy. 

Dr. Tanaka turned and left the room. Tommy scowled as he 
swiftly gathered the papers. He loved his owner, and he 
knew better than to expect Tanaka-sama suddenly to be a 
different man just because his boy needed a hug. Really, 
really needed one. But at least he was back to Tommy-
chan. 

While the tea water boiled, Tommy made sure his braid 
was tight and smooth and the tea tray was set 
immaculately. He breathed slowly and deeply as Dr. Fell 
had taught him to do when he was facing a difficult 
demand from an owner. Staying calm for this conversation 

with his Sensei was harder than having Fell beat him or Pol 
get kinky with his piercings. 

Tommy knelt and poured tea without saying a word. Sensei 
was sitting, as posture perfect as ever, on the sofa leafing 
through the day's mail. 

"Get yourself a cup, Tommy, and join me." 

"Hai, Sensei." Tommy felt a little better as he hurried back 
to the kitchen for a teacup. Tea shared with Dr. Tanaka was 
always a bond. 

"Beside me, Tommy-chan." 

Tommy gulped, and sat next to his owner. 

"Now, tell me the news." 

Tommy closed his eyes for a second, and then recited what 
Yolanda had told him. She and Juliet had been sitting with 
Olivia in her hospice room. They'd read to her a little, and 
then sat and talked about their wedding plans. Olivia had 
dozed off while Juliet and Yolanda had tussled about 
whether going across the border to Windsor counted as a 
destination wedding, and whether anyone would call them 
bridezillas for asking friends to travel. 

"It's hardly international -- it's just like going through the 
Holland tunnel to New Jersey," Juliet had just finished 
saying when Yolanda had noticed Olivia had stopped 
breathing. 

Juliet had held Yolanda back from trying to do CPR, even 
when Yolanda had popped her in the eye. Poor Yolanda 

had to be given a sedative by the hospice staff while Juliet 
pressed an icepack to her own eye. 

Dr. Tanaka muttered something about theatre professors 
and histrionics. Tommy sniffled, and received a warning 
look. 

"So Yolanda told you this herself?" 

"Hai, Sensei. She feels terrible now. She knows Olivia had 
chosen hospice and had a DNR order and had said she 
wanted to go naturally. And Juliet is being noble and 
understanding about being hit, so Yolanda is even more 
upset. She thinks Juliet will call the wedding off, and then 
she got all hysterical about being selfish when O-Olivia is 
dead." Tommy's voice wobbled, and he looked at his hands. 

"I will visit Yolanda and Juliet tomorrow," said Dr. Tanaka. 
"The hospice will know what to do in the short term. Olivia 
planned her own funeral, and I have the instructions to 
share with Yolanda and Juliet. " 

"And me?" whispered Tommy. "I need to help, Sensei. I 
know she's only been my friend for a short while, but..." 

"Indeed. Olivia was very fond of you, Tommy-chan. Her 
instructions include asking you to sing at her memorial." 

Tommy gulped. 

Tanaka-sama's eye corners crinkled a little. "She wants you 
to choose something from your Miss B. Gotten repertoire. 
She asked for big, torchy, and diva." 

Tommy smiled and sniffed at the same time. "All 
triumphant and defiant and shit, yeah?" 

"Not quite how either she or I phrased it, but yes." 

"It won't be in a church, will it?" asked Tommy. "I don't 
think I want to be in one." 

Sensei chuckled. "No, Tommy-chan. Olivia had her own 
spirituality, but she wasn't a Christian. She is going to be 
cremated privately, and then we will hold a memorial in a 
week or so. Perhaps at her house, or maybe Yolanda will 
arrange for the university studio theatre since Olivia had so 
many campus friends." 

Tommy wriggled along the couch a little to feel his owner's 
body warmth. He felt what Sensei called his design drift 
start up as he pondered songs for Olivia, and perhaps even 
a small piece of embroidery to decorate a picture of Olivia 
at the memorial. 

He muffled a squeak of surprise. Dr. Tanaka's arm was 
across his shoulder. 

"Missing a good friend is allowed, Tommy. Being 
ridiculous and having tantrums is not. You are not 
Yolanda." 

Tommy wasn't sure whether to be grateful for the affection 
or indignant on Yolanda's behalf. 

Then Dr. Tanaka squeezed him. "Ah Tommy-chan, that 
was poorly said on my part. Yolanda is exuberant in all 
things. As was Olivia. Sit with me a little, and we will 
remember our friend, Olivia." 

Tommy risked a squirm in closer, and enjoyed the new 
experience of sitting on the sofa with his owner's arm 

around him. Olivia would be amused, he thought. She knew 
how formal her friend Katashi was, even with his partner, 
and she'd be thrilled that Tommy was finally getting to sit 
snuggle-close. 

Dr. Tanaka sighed, and Tommy hid his surprise. "Ah, 
Tommy-chan, Olivia Henry was the first person to treat me 
like a person here, and not some exotic visitor. She took my 
Comparative Literature class when I was just a Visiting 
Professor fifteen years ago. I was ready to go home at the 
end of the year even if they offered me the Assistant 
Professorship." He stroked Tommy's hair. "You will not 
believe it, I know, Tommy, but I was homesick and lonely. 
My mother still lived in Japan then, although my sister was 
already in Phoenix. Olivia just made me be her friend." 

Tommy chuckled. He could imagine Olivia barreling down 
on poor, polite, young Katashi Tanaka and sweeping him 
off to parties and shows. 

"I stayed," said Dr. Tanaka simply. "But I spent the next 
year terrified, thinking she expected me to kiss her or 
propose marriage. Or that she would do either to me!" 

Tommy giggled-snorted. "Oh, Sensei. How awful for you! 
Girls are so scary when they are on a mission. My sister..." 
He sighed. 

"Pol told me about her," said Tanaka-sama. "It is very sad 
to lose someone younger than you. But Olivia was ready, 
Tommy. She had the opportunity of preparation. She said 
her goodbyes. We should not be shocked by her death, but 
should remember her happily." 

"Hai," whispered Tommy. "But Sensei, it was only today. I 
need to cry. It's a knife in my heart. I can't be resigned yet." 

"Very well, Tommy, weep. You are a boy and an 
American. You do well with me, but you are who you are." 

Tommy smothered a huff. His desire to cry had suddenly 
dried up. He knew Sensei wasn't insulting him, just 
acknowledging a difference about their stations and 
cultures, but he didn't want to be indulged. And he knew 
his Sensei wanted comfort as well. 

Tommy narrowed his eyes. He didn't mean to be an 
opportunist, but perhaps this was a moment not to be 
wasted. Tommy would take the rare non-sexual physical 
contact. He shifted a little bit so that he had his arm around 
his owner's waist. Dr. Tanaka didn't object. 

The unpoured tea grew cold. Tommy and his owner stayed 
still and silent on the sofa until Dr. Tanaka moaned and 
rolled toward his boy so his head lay in Tommy's lap. 
Tommy soothed his Sensei's forehead and stroked his hair. 
The late spring evening light slowly grayed around them, 
and neither moved. 

*** 

Tommy had spent the morning in the Theatre Department 
trying to console Yolanda as well as get them both through 
their work day. Juliet had called several times from the 
Math Department to check in with Yolanda. She'd also 
called Tommy to double check that Yolanda wasn't having 
a meltdown. It was nearly a week since Olivia had died and 
Yolanda was still prone to great gusting fits of tears. She 
and Juliet both felt foul that Olivia had died while they 
talked about a travel plan that would exclude her, even if 
she were alive on their wedding day. Tommy had 
repeatedly reminded them both that Olivia had wanted 

people to talk about everyday plans and not be skittish 
about her death. 

Yolanda still insisted the wedding was hexed by the timing 
and Juliet had been unkind to her about seeing their 
beloved friend's passing as an evil event that would curse 
their relationship. How could Yolanda be so egotistical and 
dishonor Olivia's generous spirit that way? Tommy 
privately agreed with Juliet, but he was the one who had to 
spend his mornings with Yolanda. 

Tommy had gone to his afternoon classes feeling guiltily 
relieved to be around people who didn't know Olivia or that 
he had lost a friend. And now he trundled around the 
supermarket feeling exhausted, but glad to be off-campus 
and out of the house. All week, Sensei had been even 
quieter and more formal than usual after their evening on 
the sofa. Tommy understood, but he felt tense. 

Tommy leaned on his cart and hummed a little as he 
mentally rehearsed a song for the memorial. He nodded at 
the Smokin' Sausage! sample lady who was rather 
enthusiastically whacking her wares into slices with an 
industrial knife. Tommy bent over into the freezer to 
inspect the bags of shrimp. 

"Well! Someone has cause to be happy!" 

Tommy blinked, and stood up straight. 

"Oh. Hi, Susie." 

"That's Ms. Sofronie to you, Tommy. You ungrateful--" 
Tommy's old boss from the community theatre took a deep 
breath and stopped herself. 

"Hi, Ms. Sofronie," said Tommy with a sweet smile. He 
could be passive aggressive all damn day long if that's what 
the game was. 

"Singing when the rest of us are mourning dear Olivia 
Henry! But then you would have cause to be pleased." 

"What?" snarled Tommy, losing his composure. Fuck 
passive aggressive! This bitch was asking to be dumped 
into the frozen seafood display. 

"Theo said you'd refuse since you'd only known her a few 
months, and would at least have the sense to know the 
estate would be challenged, but I said a gold-digging little 
slut like Tommy would try to grab all he could and would 
dig in his heels for a settlement." 

Tommy had never understood what seeing red meant until 
now, but he could swear crimson blobs floated in front of 
Susie Sofronie. He envisioned her feet waggling over the 
edge of the freezer, and drew back his cart to give it a good 
shove. 

"Don't have the brazen nerve to be at the memorial with her 
real friends," hissed Susie and flounced away. 

Tommy let his cart bounce off the edge of the seafood case. 

"Never mind, sweetie. She's obviously got mad cow 
disease. Have a Smokin' Sausage Square! Lovely for 
gatherings." 

Tommy blinked, and meekly took the proffered cocktail 
stick from the food sample lady. 

He shopped in a daze, burping occasionally from the over-
spiced offal treat, and headed home. What the hell had evil 
Susie been talking about? 

*** 

Sensei wasn't home yet, so Tommy took the chance to 
practice his Olivia tribute. He couldn't settle on one song, 
so, with Dr. Tanaka's permission, he had a trilogy planned. 
He'd performed them all before as Miss B. Gotten, and 
knew Olivia loved all three. He would take Olivia's friends 
through grief, defiance, and then pure exuberance. He had 
edited a backing tape together, and was now making his 
transitions smooth. He worked on toning down his physical 
performance -- his usual drag moves wouldn't work at a 
memorial. Until the third song, of course! Tommy frowned. 
He'd never performed any of the songs in male clothes. He 
should rehearse in his funeral suit. Popping a seam with a 
diva arm motion would be beyond tragic! 

He stood where he could see the street, and sang and sang. 
By the time Sensei's black Lexus nosed into the driveway, 
he was sure he had some dignified, but emotional, 
movements ready for the first two as well as the vocal 
segues from song to song. He'd also let Susie's outburst 
percolate. 

He took a deep breath and hurried down to start the tea. 
Recently, Dr. Tanaka had taken to joining him in the 
kitchen as the water boiled, and, today, Tommy had 
something to say. 

"Sensei!" said Tommy right away. "I have an important 
question!" 

"Well. Good afternoon, Tommy-chan." 

Tommy flapped at the tea kettle. "Hai, hai. Sensei, good 
afternoon, tea is nearly ready. Have you seen Olivia's will?" 

Dr. Tanaka's face took on an angry smoothness. "I 
witnessed it, but Olivia has named Dr. Rønne as the 
executor to avoid conflicts. I am shocked you ask." 

Tommy felt the red rise again. "Sensei! I ask because I 
want nothing, and because the Sofronie bitch--" 

"Heh, that explains it. Tommy-chan. Relax. Theo and Susie 
have somehow learned the community theatre has a 
comparative pittance in Olivia's estate. Most of her money 
is going to the university for scholarships and to underwrite 
theatre productions." 

"Oh. Thank heavens! I thought Olivia had done something 
absurd to piss Susie off. And how Theo and Susie could 
think Olivia would do anything for them after publicizing 
her chemo treatment without her permission!" 

"Tommy-chan. You should know now. Olivia has left you 
money." 

"I don't need it." 

Dr. Tanaka snorted. "Do you forget how much money you 
owe?" 

The red behind Tommy's eyes roiled again. "I never forget 
it. Thank you, Dr. Tanaka, for reminding me that I am 
bought and not yet paid for! Susie is right. I am a kept boy 
and a gold digger!" 

Tommy and Dr. Tanaka both hissed at each other. And 
neither stepped back. Tommy swore his braid twitched. 

After a moment, Dr. Tanaka held out his hands. "Tommy-
chan. Truce? We are both distraught and there are some 
things to discuss." 

Tommy, to his own horror, didn't instantly nod and take his 
owner's hands. "Yes. There are." 

He struggled to balance his desire to submit and his need to 
clarify. He waited a beat and then forced his hands upward 
and into Dr. Tanaka's. 

"Katashi -- and don't fuss at me! -- I love you, and I am 
your boy, and your partner to the world, and I am longing 
to feel your blade carve your mark into my belly. But! The 
Sofronie bitch has reminded me that I do not pull my 
weight financially in this house. I do belong to the 
Foundation. I am just, just leased! I am kept. And if Olivia 
has been so very kind as to leave me anything, then I just 
feel worse. My debt needs to be paid by me. How can I 
consent to be yours when I don't own me to give me?" 

Dr. Tanaka squeezed Tommy's hands. "Ah, boy. This is 
why I love you. So much honor!" He paused. "And so 
much silly pride! You are my partner. Finances mean 
nothing to that. As to owning you, boy, do you think this is 
a dollar transaction? That you are a slave? Bought and paid 
for by Fell's Foundation? Yes, you owe them money. They 
are merely creditors. Generous and very understanding 
ones, but creditors. Olivia has left you enough to pay your 
debts and to start your online business. She asked me what 
you needed to be independent. So that no one -- Tommy, 
listen -- no one has a claim on you." 

Tommy swayed. "Did Olivia know about us? That I belong 
to you?" 

"No, Tommy. But she knew enough about relationships and 
obligations. Olivia had only been a widow for a year when 
I met her. She told me -- perhaps because I was the discreet 
foreign professor -- some things about her husband. Her 
husband was not a kind man. A rich one, yes. And good in 
his own way. But someone who made it very clear who 
deserved what and why." Dr. Tanaka cleared his throat. 
"Just believe me, Tommy. She knew about unrealistic 
expectations and guilt trips." 

Tommy looked into his owner's face, and, although he still 
felt so very unmoored, he knew he could trust Dr. Tanaka 
with his soul. 

"Sensei? I am lost since Olivia died. Please, let me talk for 
a moment. I am worried about us. We love each other. Our 
friends know we are together, and the university sees us as 
partners, but my belly has no mark. And, oh, Katashi! It 
was going to be this weekend, and now we are saying 
goodbye to Olivia instead. How wrong am I to resent that? 
And Juliet and Yolanda are scared to plan their wedding. 
So it's not just me that is lost! And Susie and Theo will tell 
everyone I scammed Olivia! That I faked caring for her! 
Oh, Sensei, even when I turned tricks, I never faked caring. 
I was good and professional and delivered value, but I 
never faked that I loved anyone." 

Dr. Tanaka didn't laugh at his blurt or scold him for his 
impudence. He pulled Tommy close. 

"Listen, Tommy-chan. After the memorial, I will take you 
home and beat your ass black and blue. I will fuck you 
senseless." 

Tommy felt his being re-center. 

"And then, my Tommy, I will mark you as mine 
permanently. I will sign my name in blood on you so it 
never fades." 

Tommy dissolved. 

"Hai, Sensei!" 

"And there will be no more of this 'bought' shit. Or calling 
me 'Katashi' unless there are outsiders to hear." 

"Sensei! You said 'shit' -- oh, um, hai Sensei!" 

"The kettle is going to evaporate if you do not pay it 
attention. Bring me my tea." 

Tommy bobbed his head at Dr. Tanaka's departing back, 
and set about his task with a calm, joyful spirit. 

*** 

Tommy wriggled. His new dark suit was custom made by 
Dr. Tanaka's tailor for the memorial service and he'd picked 
it up in time to be able to have a dress rehearsal. It fit 
perfectly, but he still felt odd. He wasn't used to dressing so 
formally or plainly. His braid suddenly felt incongruous. It 
was longer than his silk tie. He squinted at himself in the 
mirror and worried that he looked a bit yakuza. 

"It is perfect, Tommy," said Rinnie. "You look somber and 
Tommy!" 

Tommy nodded and mumbled something about Rinnie's 
charcoal grey suit. 

Rinnie squeezed his hand and gave him his best save the 
orphans soulful look. "It's sad, Tommy. I liked Mrs. Henry. 
Even though she said engineers were yahoos." 

Tommy giggled. "I think she was teasing you." 

"Hmm," said Rinnie. "I think she wasn't, but I still liked 
her. She made Pol laugh." 

"She was a hoot," said Tommy mistily. "That's what she'd 
say. What a hoot!" 

Rinnie grinned, and fiddled with the pens on Tommy's 
design table. They were waiting for Pol and Dr. Tanaka to 
finish some estate paperwork, and to head out for the 
memorial. 

Tommy knew that Rinnie was just mournful, not truly 
grieved. To him, Olivia was just a nice lady. 

"What are these?" 

Tommy sighed. "Paper cranes. Olivia and I were making 
them together while we talked. Sensei showed me how to 
make them. He told me a story about a girl called Sadako 
trying to make a thousand cranes to get a wish." Tommy 
choked. He hadn't shared the end of the story with Olivia. 
Sadako had died of leukemia, and Tommy had been made 
totally maudlin by Sensei's dry telling of the poignant story. 
"Her friends finished the thousand for her after she died." 

Rinnie frowned. "Magic?" 

Tommy rubbed his silly sentimental eyes. "Just a nice 
tradition, I guess." 

"How many did you and Olivia make?" 

"Oh, hundreds. They were so hard at first, but we got so our 
hands just did them!" 

"Huh," said Rinnie, sounding disconcertingly like Dr. 
Tanaka. 

Tommy caught the sound of the study door opening and 
moved to his workroom door, alert for a summons. Dr. 
Tanaka disliked having to raise his voice to call for him. 

"Rinnie? Can you sit next to me at the memorial? I've never 
had stage fright before, but I'm scared of choking up before 
I have to sing. And Sensei won't like it if I try to hold his 
hand!" 

"Tommy-chan, we are ready," said Dr. Tanaka as Rinnie 
nodded. 

"Thanks," whispered Tommy as he and Rinnie trotted 
downstairs to their owners. 

*** 

Tommy paced in Olivia's elegant hallway and pushed his 
anxiety about the ceremony down as hard as he could, but 
he was also grateful for the day's planned events. Tonight, 
Dr. Tanaka was going to take a knife to his belly. Tommy 
wasn't particularly worried about the pain, but he was going 
to be Dr. Tanaka's forever. He wanted it, but he was full of 
jitters. He'd felt oddly rebellious recently -- antsy about 
Sensei's presence in the kitchen, irked by the strictures 

about using his owner's name, and unsettled by Olivia 
noticing that Tommy was dependent. 

It was weird being back in Olivia's home. She'd spent her 
last weeks in a hospice. Juliet and Yolanda had looked after 
her house for her, so it was pristine and nicely aired. 
Olivia's large reception room was full of chairs for the 
ceremony. Rinnie was fussing with the microphone and 
Tommy's music system, and Juliet was in the kitchen 
overseeing the caterers. Pol was manfully squiring Yolanda 
around the garden to calm her down. 

"Cars, Sensei," Tommy said, careful not to shout and cause 
a rebuke, but to calmly project. 

"Thank you, Tommy-chan." 

Dr. Tanaka came out of Olivia's den carrying a box. He 
looked the same as always in his dark suit and tie, but 
Tommy detected an extra level of somberness in his owner. 

"I will place Olivia at the front, and then be with you to 
welcome her guests." 

Tommy watched his Sensei pace measuredly down the 
reception room, and stop just beyond where Rinnie was 
anxiously adjusting the microphone height. 

Tommy gasped. Dr. Tanaka had pulled out a length of red 
silk from his pocket and draped it over a table. It was the 
head wrap Tommy had embroidered for Olivia when she 
had first lost her hair. 

His eyes felt hot, but a wave of love for Katashi Tanaka 
swept over him. He watched his owner unbox Olivia's urn 

and precisely center it on the swathe of silk. Dr. Tanaka 
bowed to his old friend and walked away. 

Tommy quickly turned his attention to opening the front 
door. Luckily, the arrivals were campus friends of Olivia, 
and not the evil Sofronie or strangers to Tommy. The next 
half hour was a bustle of arrivals and funny gusts of mixed 
mirth and grief as the crowd settled. 

Olivia hadn't wanted formal speeches or a eulogy -- just 
shared stories and songs -- so no one officiated other than 
Dr. Tanaka announcing the beginning of the memorial. 
Olivia's friends simply came up to the microphone to 
reminisce. Tommy felt his belly knot and release over and 
over. Sensei was going to signal him to sing which would 
be the close of the memorial and the transition to going to 
eat and drink. Tommy tried not to glare as Theo gave an 
unctuous speech about Olivia. She'd have hated it. At least 
he didn't have to listen to Susie. The Insufferable Sofronie 
was making a display about being too overwhelmed to 
share a memory. Tommy felt his resolve stiffen. None of 
Olivia's real friends had been unable to honor their friend. 

Yolanda and Juliet held hands as they stood together to 
praise their friend. Rinnie shyly said something about 
Olivia's kindness to foreign students, Pol spoke about her 
lifelong learning, love of travel, and killer bridge skills, and 
now Dr. Tanaka was at the microphone. Tommy would 
have to sing any moment. He felt a fleeting desire to be in a 
wig and heels, but his old defenses were no longer part of 
him. 

He blinked. Sensei had beckoned to him. Tommy forced 
himself not to dash over. He stood next to his owner in 
public as Dr. Tanaka continued to tell stories about his and 
Olivia's adventures in Japan. Then he segued to saying how 

delighted Olivia had been that Tommy had become his 
partner. 

Tommy shut his eyes. Holy shit. Sensei had called him his 
partner before everyone they knew in town. 

He opened his eyes. Dr. Tanaka was talking about how 
Tommy and Olivia had been making paper cranes, and that 
Olivia had died before completing their goal. 

Oh, gods, thought Tommy, Sensei is going to make me 
choke up before I have to sing. 

"Olivia's friends were asked this last week to help finish her 
last project. I know many of you picked up paper and 
instructions from my office." Dr. Tanaka paused and 
Tommy saw his eyes crinkle. "In fact, many of you stayed 
for a tutorial, so I know there are many complete cranes in 
the room. While Tommy sings a tribute to our friend, 
please bring your cranes to Olivia." 

Tommy wanted nothing more than to kick his owner's 
ankle hard. Or to hug him publicly. He settled for a flick of 
his head that sent his braid coiling across his shoulder, and 
a sideways look at his Sensei. He trusted his rampaging 
emotions would go into the music. Rinnie started his tape 
and Tommy drew breath. 

"Loneliness!" he sang as he launched into "The Sun Ain't 
Gonna Shine Anymore." His voice was strong as he 
worked through the abandonment and loss of the lyrics. 
Olivia's friends filed up and fondly laid origami cranes in 
front of her urn. Many were wobbly and inept efforts, some 
were passable, while others had clearly been completed by 
Dr. Tanaka for the visitors to his office, but they made a 
colorful flock of love and hope. Even Pol had made one. 

Rinnie had the grace to look a little embarrassed as he 
placed a perfectly-made crane there. Only Juliet's and Dr. 
Tanaka's offerings could compare to its precise folds. 
Tommy didn't care that Rinnie had obviously known all 
along about Dr. Tanaka's tribute. Tommy did his best not to 
notice who had not made one, but he glowered at Theo and 
Susie who remained immobile and craneless in the back 
row. He felt a wicked thrill as the music changed just as the 
last true mourner filed away, and he could point 
dramatically to the back of the room as he belted out the 
first lines of "I Will Survive." 

He winked at Rinnie who was tapping his toes. For all 
Rinnie was a nerdy engineering student, he could disco 
dance rings around even Charlie. Tommy let his hips swing 
a little as the song became more and more defiant. 

There was a second of silence at the end of Gloria Gaynor's 
anthem, and then a burst of energy jolted out of the 
speaker. Rinnie leaped out of his seat to support his friend, 
as Tommy put all his voice into "Girls Just Wanna Have 
Fun!" 

Tommy and Rinnie bopped away together and Rinnie 
added the appropriate whoop-whoops. Chairs clattered and 
scraped around the room as Olivia's friends stood to dance. 
Tommy's eyes welled as he saw Dr. Tanaka move through 
some precise but groovy steps. As the song ended amidst 
laughter and cries of how Olivia would have loved this, Dr. 
Tanaka reached out his hand to his boy for a few precious 
seconds of public affection. 

*** 

Tommy was sure he could feel his sweat in every damn 
pore as he lay naked, waiting for his owner and his blade. 
He was tense and languid at the same time. Such strange 
anticipation. 

Dr. Tanaka had kept his promise and Tommy's ass and 
thigh backs were bruised all over. They'd both shouted out 
their grief and exhaustion from the day as Sensei's leather 
strap had done its work, and their fuck was deep and slow. 

The soak in the bath afterward had made the bruises bloom 
spectacularly already and Tommy knew his rump would 
look like a damson for days. Sensei had muttered about 
how they would become storm clouds and black tulips and 
something about bruises as sakura. At least that's what 
Tommy thought the murmured Japanese had meant. He'd 
been in a daze as his owner dried and lotioned him after his 
bath. He just smiled and wallowed in the pampering. 

Tommy shivered. Sensei had covered his bed with a heavy 
sheet and left Tommy to lie on it while he collected his 
knives. 

"Cold, Tommy-chan?" Dr. Tanaka set his special 
calligraphy set down on the night stand. 

"No, Sensei. Scared." 

Tanaka-sama nodded. "Do you wish to be tied?" 

"No, Sensei." 

"Good. But it would please me to see your hair used." 

"Hai, Sensei," whispered Tommy and stayed still as Dr. 
Tanaka stroked his braid for a moment. The stiff, striped 

silk of Dr. Tanaka's sleeve grazed Tommy's face. Tommy 
felt flattered. His Sensei had changed into the deep-blue 
robe he saved for special occasions. 

"Undo your braid and put your arms above your head and 
to the sides." Dr. Tanaka ran his fingers through Tommy's 
loose hair and divided it into two hanks. "Relax, Tommy-
chan. My blade will break your skin soon enough." 

Sensei loosely wound Tommy's hair down his outstretched 
arms, making dark spirals against his boy's skin. He looped 
the end of each hank once around the bars in the head board 
and then told Tommy to hold the end of his own bonds. 

"You submit to be bound by your own will, Tommy-chan," 
said Tanaka-sama and kissed his boy's forehead. "And 
should you need to be free, you can simply let go." 

Tommy clutched the ends of his hair. It was nice to have 
something to hold on to, and, despite his brave words, he 
was happier bound. 

"I want you to watch," said Dr. Tanaka, and put a pillow 
behind Tommy's head. "Shut your eyes if you need to do 
so, but I prefer your gaze to be on the blade and your skin." 

"Hai, Tanaka-sama," whimpered Tommy. Being cut was 
not one of his kinks. 

"Stay still while I sterilize your stomach." 

Tommy yelped at the cold mist, and then forced his spine 
and abs to relax as the alcohol evaporated. He watched as 
Dr. Tanaka uncapped a surgical marker pen and considered 
his boy's belly. 

"It is a shame your navel is tattooed. It's a charming mark, 
but it uses some of my canvas." 

"If only I had known," said Tommy, trying to be brave. He 
wanted this done. For it to be an accomplished thing, not an 
impending torture. 

Dr. Tanaka ran the back of his finger along the top of 
Tommy's pubic bone and up to the bottom of his compass 
rose tattoo. 

"There is plenty of room for me." 

Tommy almost giggled from nerves. He smothered a ribald 
remark about how his belly had been more than full of Dr. 
Tanaka just a little earlier. This was a dignified moment. 
Although, Sensei could be smutty sometimes, and had 
actually laughed aloud when Tommy came home from his 
Classics class reciting a Priapeia epigram warning: "If I 
seize you, you'll be so stretched that you'll swear your anus 
never had any wrinkles." 

Tommy exhaled hard. This wasn't the time to drift 
aimlessly! He needed to be in the moment, and to find his 
flow. 

Sensei's hand swooped decisively. Of course, he could 
make the sign for Katashi in a flash, but Tommy was 
amazed at the elegant gentian-purple calligraphy perfectly 
placed on his lower belly. 

Dr. Tanaka stood back and inspected the lines. "Heh," he 
said. "I am pleased. It is large enough for the lines to stay 
distinct after you heal, but not so large that you will be 
indisposed. You can relax tomorrow, but be at work on 
Monday." 

"Thank you," said Tommy almost inaudibly. He was seeing 
it upside down and from an awkward angle, but it looked as 
if Dr. Tanaka had used two square inches of Tommy's 
stomach for the character. 

Tanaka-sama pulled a stool close to the bed, and shone a 
lamp on his work area. 

"I do not intend to stop until it is complete, Tommy. But if 
you must rest, simply ask." 

Dr. Tanaka didn't wait for an answer, but unwrapped his 
knife, and sat down. 

"Itadakimasu," blurted Tommy. Humbly receiving or not, 
Tommy wanted to sit up, or shut his eyes, or say no, but he 
lay still, watched, and stayed silent. 

Silent for a second. There was a pause between seeing his 
skin part before Sensei's steel and the pain hitting. 

"Fuck," bellowed Tommy. 

"Hush," said Sensei, and wiped the blood away. He made 
the second cut, and Tommy moaned. 

It hurt worse than he expected, and he wanted to drum his 
feet. Knowing what each stroke would bring was not 
helping at all. He watched Sensei position for the third 
stroke, and allowed himself a groan. Why did his owner 
have so many damn strokes in his name? It never seemed 
that many in brush or pen strokes. 

"It's okay to cry, Tommy-chan. I know it's painful." 

Tommy bit his lip. He knew Dr. Tanaka knew that Tommy 
would now be stubbornly stoic. 

He tried focusing on Dr. Tanaka's elegant, well-manicured 
hands instead of the blade and the pooling blood. Dr. 
Tanaka wiped it away frequently to keep his lines clear. 
Tommy achieved a brief detachment for a few strokes. It 
still hurt -- horribly -- but he observed and endured. 

"Halfway," said Sensei. He put his knife down and stroked 
Tommy's belly with a sterile wipe. 

"Burns!" squalled Tommy, and allowed himself some sobs. 

"Take some deep breaths, Tommy. You are doing too much 
shallow breathing. Calm yourself. Find your zone." 

Tommy whimpered. If only he could. He often found his 
sub space with his owner. Today, it eluded him. This hurt 
so much. 

"Tommy," repeated Dr. Tanaka. "Breathe from your 
diaphragm." 

"I'm scared to move," whispered Tommy. 

"Trust me. I will wait for a few breaths. Find a rhythm." 

Tommy's arms quivered as he held on to his own hair, and 
he forced some breaths in through his nose and out of his 
mouth. 

"Slow and regular," soothed Dr. Tanaka, as he wiped the 
traitorous tears from Tommy's face. "Weep and call out, 
Tommy-chan, don't be stubborn, but breathe properly." 

Tommy stared at the ceiling for a little as he worked on 
controlling his air flow, and his mind followed. His arms 
and back relaxed a fraction, and Sensei grunted his 
approval. 

"Good boy. Seven more cuts." 

"Oh, no," moaned Tommy, but he was floating already. 
The first seven cuts had moved to throb and glow, and his 
body chemistry was coming to his rescue. 

"You've watched the first part. You may stare at the ceiling 
for the rest if that helps." 

"Thank you," said Tommy, and bore the next few cuts 
without fuss. And then he lost his space. He wailed. He 
wanted it to stop. He made himself think of Olivia's grace 
as she suffered, and of how silly he would feel with two-
thirds of an ownership mark. 

Dr. Tanaka made another two quick cuts, and Tommy 
bawled. "Sensei! It's too much! Sensei!" 

"Tommy. I will keep working unless you say stop, or 
release your hands." 

Tommy took a gusting sob, and bit his lip. "It's only two 
more, Sensei?" 

"Just two, boy," confirmed Dr. Tanaka. 

Tommy sniffled. "It probably says something weird right 
now as well." 

Tanaka-sama chuckled. "It does." 

Tommy nodded, and made himself look at his belly. 

"Good boy," said Tanaka-sama, but he didn't hurry the final 
two cuts. He took his time and made two calm cuts to 
complete his name. "Done. You're mine." 

"Signed, sealed, and delivered," said Tommy, and burst 
into tears. 

"Hush, boy," said Dr. Tanaka soothingly. "Let me clean 
your belly, and then take a photo for you. Remember, you 
promised Charlie you would send one as soon as it was 
done, and I am sure Fell and Pol would be pleased to see 
it." 

Tommy nodded, but kept crying. "Dolphins are going," he 
choked. 

Sensei snorted. "Deep breath, here comes the wipe." 

Tommy screamed something very rude as it stung, and then 
resumed his sobs as Dr. Tanaka took some photos of his 
new mark. The clicks continued a little longer, and Tommy 
opened his eyes in time for the last one. Sensei had moved 
to photographing his naked, weeping boy, bound by his 
own hair, with his owner's name oozing fresh blood on his 
stomach. Tommy squirmed and his half-erect cock rolled 
towards his cuts. Sensei laughed and cupped his hand 
around Tommy's piercings before they reached the 
incisions. 

"My beautiful boy." He squeezed Tommy's prick fondly, 
and helped his boy sit up. 

Tommy blinked dizzily as his arms came free and his belly 
pain shifted as he straightened. "Ow," he said, pathetically, 
and Dr. Tanaka laughed. 

"Stand up, boy. I'll put a dressing over this now we've got 
shots to send. We will have some sake together, and send 
our commitment photos out to our friends." 

Tommy beamed. That sounded perfect. Except... 

"Sensei?" 

"Hai, Tommy-chan?" 

"Will you kiss me, please?" 

Dr. Tanaka paused, and turned. 

Tommy swallowed. Had he been over-confident now he 
was truly Tanaka-sama's? 

Dr. Tanaka's formal silk robe rustled, but there was no 
other sound. 

"Heh," said Dr. Tanaka, and took his boy in arms. 

Contributors' Bios 

Misa Izanaki 
Originally from Hawaii, Misa has been writing since she 
was twelve.  She has a fondness for cats, squirrels, and 
anime. Most of her stories come from her muses, the 
constantly evolving group of pretty anime-style men who 
live in her head, and she is constantly poking at them for 
new ideas. When she's not writing, Misa can be found 
painting war game miniatures or trying in vain to catch up 
with her backlog of comics and books. 

Syd McGinley 
Syd McGinley writes the Dr. Fell series and other gay 
fiction. Syd is a Sexuality Studies program advisor and 
English lecturer who fled Thatcher’s England in the late 
1980's, and has lived in the American Midwest since then. 
Frying pan and fire comes to mind. Visit Syd at 
www.sydmcginley.com and Dr. Fell at 
www.inlocodomin.com. 

Vic Winter 
Heat in real life is the bane of Vic’s life, whose favorite 
season is winter. Vic’s life is far more mundane than 
fiction. When it comes to fiction, the hotter the better is 
Vic’s motto. Make it romantic, make it sexy, make it erotic, 
but definitely make it hot. 

Toy Box: Knife 

Steel and Crimson © 2010 by Misa Izanaki 
Cutting Sanity © 2010 by Vic Winter 
Paper Cranes by © 2010 Syd McGinley 

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or 
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written 
permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in 
critical articles or reviews. For information address 
Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 
78680. 

Printed in the United States of America. 

ISBN: 978-1-60370-998-9 

Torquere Press, Inc.: Taste Test electronic edition / June 
2010 

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, 
Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680