“You shouldn’t blame yourself,”Bayani signs.
John offers a small shrug in return. “It’s hard not to.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”Bayani crawls into John’s lap and hugs him tightly.
John makes a promise to Bayani then, whispers it in his ear just in casetheyare listening, “I’m going to get you papers, and I’m going to get you out of here to somewhere safe.”
“Not without you,” Bayani signs, eyes wide and imploring.
“You first. No arguments.”
Bayani closes his hands into fists as if reining himself in. There is a stubborn set to his mouth that John wants to smother with kisses. Instead, John lifts him up and carries him to the bedroom. They fall into bed with John holding onto him tightly, until eventually, the boy drifts back to sleep.
John does not. Instead, he climbs out of bed and walks down to the 24-hour gas station where he buys a bag of powdered mini-donuts and a burner phone with cash, then strolls over to a nearby park where he’s sure he won’t be observed. There he finds an unoccupied bench, pulls out the assassin’s business card, and makes a call.
10
BAYANI
Bayani thinksthere must be something wrong with him to be so aroused by watching John butcher a dead cow. Maybe it’s the chainmail tank John wears over his t-shirt or the way he wields his breaking knives with such precision.
“This is how we remove the suet,” John says as he applies a sharp and slightly curved blade to the hindquarter hanging from an industrial hook in the meat locker. He peels away the thick white substance that clings to the rich red muscle and holds it up for Bayani to inspect. Bayani, perched on a stool nearby, watches raptly as John’s ever-faithful pupil.
“This is where you have to be really careful because right behind this hunk of fat is the tenderloin. Now, with beef suet, you can make birdseed or candles or use it as a butter substitute in cooking. I have a woman who comes by and collects it to make soap.”
That must be why John has such sweet-smelling homemade soaps upstairs. Bayani likes the rosemary-mint one in particular. John is a man who wastes nothing. Bayani wonders if, like him, he grew up poor or if frugality is simply the ethic he lives by. The extravagance with which Emile spent money and flaunted his wealth had always disturbed Bayani, not to mention that Emile’s “gifts” always came with conditions.
But Bayani is determined not to think about Emile anymore–ever again, if he can help it.
After removing the suet and dropping it in a plastic-lined bin, John explains the next bit as he cuts through the carcass’s ball joint with a hand saw. Bayani pays less attention to John’s words and far more to his movements, which are practiced and steady. The muscles in his arms flex and bunch as he saws through the bone. Even with the hair net covering his beautiful, well-kept beard, Bayani is entranced by how handsome and capable John is. The joint finally breaks and John slaps the slab of meat on the butcher block with a heavy thunk. Bayani shifts in his seat and imagines John doing the same to him but for an entirely different purpose.
“This is a cut where you really want to take your time. You don’t want to leave any meat on the bone because in butchering especially, weight is money.”
John draws the tip of his knife along the animal’s vertebrae, twisting his wrist with a practiced deftness while carefully carving out a two-foot strap of ruby red meat.
“Tenderloin, sirloin, strip loin,” John says, pointing to each section. “Now I’ll show you how to break down each one.”
I wish you’d break me down,Bayani thinks to himself with a sly smile. He has very little interest in butchering himself, but he appreciates the education John seeks to give him. John could speak to him about the most mundane topics—and often does—and it still gets Bayani’s heart rate racing and blood pumping to all the wrong places.
Bayani wonders how John approaches sex. Is he all brawn and muscle, manhandling his lovers into submission and taking what he wants, or is he tender, taking his time with foreplay and prep until his intended is out of their mind and begging for more? Bayani would wager John is both, depending on the mood and the desires of his partner.
Bayani has seen John’s cock, both in soft slumber and fully aroused in the morning when John takes his morning piss. It’s impressive in length and girth, and Bayani wants nothing more than to scale this mountain of a man, slide down his thick meaty pole, and fuck himself senseless.
But alas…
“And that’s how you get these beautiful cuts of meat,” John concludes, holding one particularly prized steak up for Bayani’s inspection. “Dinner for us tonight?”
Bayani nods, flush in the face despite the chill of the room. He wishes again that John would let him worship that thick, meaty tenderloin he keeps hidden beneath too many layers of clothing. Bayani would be so, so good to him. Bayani waits until he has John’s full attention, then makes the man a lewd offer.
“Did you just offer to blow me?” John asks with a bemused expression. Bayani nods with a flirtatious smile. John chuckles and shakes his head. “You really shouldn’t sign things like that when I’ve got sharp knives in my hands. Do you want me to accidently sever a limb?”
“Not your third leg,”Bayani signs with a wink.
John laughs, a deep rumbling chortle that is seldom heard but always welcome. “Get on out of here, trouble. Go down to George’s and get us some fresh bread to go with tonight’s dinner. And ice cream too. I’ve got a craving for something sweet.”
Bayani wishes he could be John’s something sweet, but he dutifully hangs up his apron, removes his gloves and hairnet, and scampers out of the meat locker to do John’s bidding.
* * *
