Destiny Ch. 02

"Did he do that?" Trent groaned, reaching for her. She cringed and looked away. Her carefully built facade of strength and pride was crumbling away.

She could taste Stevie in her mouth.

"We need to..."

"No. I know what you're going to say and no. No cops, no social workers, no."

"And you're going to the bus station because...?"

"I'm leaving," she stated. "I'm done. She kicked me out. I'm going to Toronto, I have nothing left here."

"You have..."

"This isn't about you."

They stared at each other. He traced her bruised mouth with his eyes, which tightened. He could see the finger marks on her cheeks, on her throat. Her eyes were red and puffy. A blood vessel in her eye had burst.

"Look, stay with me..." she started to object and he shouted over her. "For a day or two and rest up. You can't travel anywhere looking like that. Then I'll take you to the bus station. Hell, I'll drive you to Toronto, save you the money."

She considered this. "I'll stay... for tonight. Thank you," she added, touching the fingers of his hand which rested on the table. He turned his hand over so she could brush her nails over his palm. He gently cupped her cheek in his other hand and looked into her reddened eyes. "Don't you have friends over? I could hear them on the phone."

"Yeah. They're cool. They won't bother ya. I can ask them to leave..."

"No. No. Don't do that. I really just want to..." she stopped, thinking about the pills she had in her bag.

"You want to what?"

She stared him down, daring him to judge her. "I really just want to get high."

He twisted his fingers in hers, a look of excitement flashing across his face. "Deal."

Approaching the house, Trent carrying her duffle, Destiny felt a twinge of nervousness. Sure, he was a great guy, but that didn't mean his buddies were. She was so, so tired, yet wired. Anxiety and sadness pumped through her like toxins circulating her body. She felt Trent's free arm slide across her lower back and around her hip, tugging her close.

As they'd gotten in his SUV, he'd apologized for leaving her. "I know what kind of man he is. I never should have left you there alone." Guilt had coloured his features, darkening his expression.

She hadn't been able to resist sliding her arms around him, pulling him in for a fevered kiss. His touch was so gentle as his fingers brushed over her face, her hair, her sides. He seemed only to want to comfort her. She hadn't known how to reassure him that it wasn't his fault. That he was never responsible for any of this.

The inside of Trent's house was warm, inviting and loud. Four men were gathered around his living room table, watching hockey. They turned when the two of them came in, looking at Trent's arm around her small body.

"Hey man," one man said in a joking tone. He was tall and broad, with striking pale blue eyes and hair that was an interesting shade: somewhere between blonde and brown. "We said no chicks."

"Shut it Paul," Trent snapped. "Guys, this is Destiny. She's having a rough night and is looking for some well-behaved fun." He nudged her into the big soft reclining chair and dropped her bag next to her. He went to the kitchen.

"Hey," a dark-skinned man sitting on the couch said, offering her a joint. "Name's Deon. Nice to meet 'ya."

Destiny took the joint with a nod of thanks. Trent came back in with his jar and box, as well as a bottle of water, which he gave to Destiny. She nodded again, pulling her legs up under her and passing the joint on.

The other two men introduced themselves as James, an older redhead who reminded Destiny of a lumberjack, and Leonard, who had dark hair and a thick beard that obscured most of his lower face. The end reached his chest. It was apparent that these men had known each other for a long time, the way they joked and carried on.

"Stop pussy footing around and just nail her already!" Deon was laughing, as James had been complaining about wanting his coworker. Apparently, this was an ongoing saga. The weed was starting to relax her, but what Destiny wanted was total oblivion. She stood and picked up her bag.

"Where can I stash my stuff?" she murmured to Trent. He smiled and nodded up the stairs. Destiny followed his gaze up to the second floor. Two of the rooms off the second landing had futons, and little else; spare rooms. At first Destiny considered claiming one of these rooms, but instead went up a second small flight of stairs to a set of large dark wood doors, obviously the master bedroom.

Inside was matching dark wood furniture, including a king-sized four-poster bed, with blue and red plaid bedding and matching curtains. It was a beautiful room; cozy and lived-in, but clean and romantic. She put her bag on the bed and started digging for the liquor and pain pills. A dangerous combination but the one that was most likely to get her to the level she needed in order to sleep tonight.

Her plan was to pop a handful of pills, knock back a few shots, then pass out in Trent's bed. Normally, she'd worry about being unconscious in a man's house, but she still trusted Trent. It seemed stupid, considering how little she knew him. But he had had every chance to take her already and hadn't. Besides, what did she care at this point? He could do whatever he wanted to her. Everyone else did.

"What are those?"

Destiny jumped, spinning around, pills in one hand, liquor in the other. Trent was in the doorway watching her. His face was emotionless, harder then she'd seen him in the 8 hours she'd known him.

She held them out, knowing he would find out anyway. He crossed the room, straight for the pills.

"Are you fucked?" he demanded after snatching them out of her hand and reading the label.

"Yes." The answer was out of her before she could stop it.

This stopped them both. Realization of the night's events gripped her. That's it. Take it. Stevie's voice danced through her head. She was shaking, the colour draining from her face. She sunk onto the bed, fighting the sobs that threatened to wreck her body.

"What did he do to you, Destiny? Tell me." He was crouched in front of her, his eyes locked in hers. She shook her head, unable to put a voice to what had happened to her. But Trent was still waiting, his fingers extended to her. He brushed his fingers over her cheek, tracing the bruises. He brushed his thumb gently over her bottom lip, and she shuddered, cringing away from the contact.

Trent hissed in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, as though steadying himself. "Look, this stuff," he murmured, gesturing towards the pill bottle, "is dangerous..."

"You say that like I've never done it."

They stared each other down, his eyes narrowing, fists on his hips. She curled back into herself, opening the bottle of liquor and took a swig.

"Look..." Trent said, his expression flat. "If you wanna get fucked up, this is not the way. Popping random pills and swigging back straight shit... " He held his hand out. "Gimme 'em."

She considered fighting him. But the exhaustion was too much and she obliged. Trent took the various bottles she handed him and tossed them in the nightside drawer.

"Right. Let's go." She opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her protests with a kiss. She had expected this to be difficult, jarring. Instead, that feeling of comfort and safety she had felt earlier began to creep up on her again, putting out the tiny fires of anxiety. "We're gonna get you fucked up," Trent promised with a whisper.

Back downstairs, the men were enthralled in the hockey game. They glanced up as the pair went by, but didn't bother questioning them. Trent had her hand squeezed tightly in his and pulled her into the kitchen. Taking the whisky from her hand, he poured four shots into a glass and topped it up with a splash of Sprite. He handed it to her with a murmured "drink up".

Next, he took a small bag from his wooden box, which lay open on the kitchen counter. Inside the bag were several small white pills.

"What are those?" Destiny asked, as Trent expertly crushed them and separated the powder into two piles.

"Ativan. It'll calm you down, relax you." He handed her a small straw and pointed towards the much larger of the two lines. "Ladies first."

Destiny hesitated. She'd popped Stevie's pain pills a couple of times, and had snorted cocaine once with an ex-boyfriend. But never something like this. She waited for alarm bells to start going off in her head.

"Hey," Trent said, gently cupping her chin and turning her face towards him. His gentle gaze held her anxious one, and he gave her his goofy smile. "Don't you trust me?"

She went for it, inhaling down the line through the small straw. It was a lot of powder and she felt every bit of it. The drugs burned her nasal passages and clung to the back of her throat.

She felt light and heavy at the same time. Her head spun. She lent back against the counter. She could feel Trent's fingers gently take the straw from her fingers, could hear him inhaling. It took a second to realize her eyes were closed.

"Hey, you good?" She opened her eyes. Trent's face was inches from hers. He held out her glass. "Drink up baby girl. Thought you wanted to get fucked up?" Destiny took the drink and drank a mouthful. Swallowing felt odd, as though every muscle in her body was wrapped in cotton.

Trent guided her back into the living room and onto the sofa. She snuggled into the cushions and sighed contentedly. She could feel the other men's eyes on her as she took another swig from her glass. Trent settled himself onto the couch next to her, confidently pulling her into his chest.

Trent talked hockey with Paul and James who were sitting next to him while tracing small circles along Destiny's arms. She felt light as a feather and heavy like concrete at the same time.

Deon's face swam into focus in front of her, offering a cigarette. He had a kind smile and sweet crinkles around his chocolate coloured eyes. Destiny tried to say "thanks" as she accepted the smoke with a small smile, but it came out as a whisper.

"She's fucked up bud. What did you do to her?" Deon said with a laugh.

"I'd take her home, but she looks right bout sixteen," popped up another of the men.

Trent's chest rumbled with laughter underneath Destiny's cheek. She hadn't remembered lying down on him. "Barely legal buddy." His fingers were inching under the hem of her dress. Destiny let out a low moan into him, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. She felt him stiffen slightly under her and his fingers tightened around her thigh reflexively. His lips pressed to her temple gently and he whispered "you okay baby girl?"

She nodded and snuggled closer. She felt so protected right here and now. Even with his friends there, Destiny felt as though they were completely alone, hidden and safe together in this small, warm house.

Destiny throat was dry from the cigarette and she coughed, trying to dislodge the taste of powder and smoke. Trent nudged her and, opening her blurry eyes, he held out her cup. She took several big drinks, the liquor rinsing her mouth.

About half an hour later, when he got up to grab more beer from the fridge, Trent noticed that Destiny had fallen asleep, quietly snoozing with her head against his chest. He chuckled, gently getting up and sliding a pillow under her head. He motioned for his buddies to follow him to the kitchen. They followed, Deon dimming the lights as they went.

The men set up around the wooden table, Paul prepping lines and Jamesdealt out a hand for poker.

"You having some blow, Trent?" Paul asked him, watching his friend roll a joint quietly at the head of the table.

"What? Oh sure. Yeah. Thanks." Trent cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that he was craning to see into the living room.

"Okay. Dude." Paul stopped chopping powder and glared at his friend. "What is the deal with this girl? Who is she?"

"Her mom is Stevie's new thing. It's not... she just needs a place to crash for a bit."

Paul frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping girl. "She looks rough. Beat up. And Stevie's a piece of shit junkie. No one should live near that guy. Especially not that pretty little thing." He looked back at his friend, frowning. "But is this the type of shit you want to take on? She looks like she's still in high school. Seems like trouble."

Trent rolled his eyes, lighting the joint in his mouth. "I'm not taking anything on. She's skipping town tomorrow."

Paul made a noise at the back of his throat and took his line, before sliding the tray to Trent.

Four poker hands later, Trent looked up to see Destiny in the kitchen doorway. Her curls were mussed, dark circles under her eyes. She looked blurry, confused. And Trent could tell she was still high. The look on her face made his cock tighten in his jeans. He wanted to bury himself balls deep inside of her tiny body.

She looked nervous and shy as she approached them, smiling hello. Without thinking, Trent opened his arms to her. He expected her to hesitate, but she rushed to him, curling herself into his lap, like a moth seeking refuge in a familiar flame. He offered his beer, and she took an appreciative swig.

"Sorry I'm not much fun tonight. I don't usually spend parties sleeping on the couch." She wrinkled her nose as though disappointed in herself.

The other men, who until then had been watching the exchange in silent assessment, chuckled good naturedly. Leonard shook his head, his mouth turned up in a wicked grin under his thick beard. "Trust me, sweet thing. This ain't no party. You stick around for a while and I'll show you how we party."

Destiny smiled faintly, taking another long pull from the beer. Looking at her, Trent could see the darkness behind her eyes, the tightness in her expression. He brushed his fingers over the bruises on her cheek and she flinched slightly. She smelled like spicy perfume, cigarettes and liquor, an oddly erotic and delicious combination in Trent's mind.

She leaned closer to him, shaking her curls over one shoulder. "Can I bum a smoke? I'll pay you back later," she whispered inconspicuously in his ear.

A shudder went through his body at the tone behind her words. His cock was still tightened painfully in his jeans. He tried to adjust himself, but ended up pressed more against her ass. He forced himself to nod in response as her breath blew across his neck. He could feel her hips moving slightly against him, rubbing along his shaft. Once again, there was only layers of fabric between them, his member so close to her opening. He could easily just throw her over the table and take her from behind right there. He could and he wanted to. His fingers tightened on her thighs, the breath catching in his throat, the image of him pounding her from behind becoming clearer in his mind's eye.

Destiny, seemingly oblivious to Trent's internal conflicts, leaned forward to grab the pack off the table. The changed angle sent shivers across Trent's skin. He couldn't help in, he needed to fuck her. She'd made it clear she intended to stay in Trent's room, in his bed. And he would be in that bed with her.

Everyone else, including Destiny, were laughing and carrying on, oblivious to his internal monologue. She'd made a joke and the other men laughed appreciatively. Both she and Paul had lit cigarettes and he was trying to show her how to blow smoke rings. Trent was silently stroking her body; along her neck, over her curves, up her thighs, across her shoulders. She hid it well, but Trent could see the goosebumps on her skin, how her breath caught, how she flushed underneath his touch.

Trent was thankful that his friends couldn't see the raging erection in his jeans, how badly he wanted to be inside Destiny. He didn't know if she was a virgin. She didn't behave like a virgin, certainly. Even if she was, he was willing to be gentle, just as long as he was inside her tonight.

"You want one Trent?" Paul offered, already scraping some powder together. "I'll spot you another."

"Sure man," Trent nodded.

"And the lady? What will she have?" Paul was looking at Destiny, taking in the curvature of her body, how her tight low dress gave a mouth watering view of her generous cleavage. Trent was sure he knew where his best friend's brain was at, imagining bending the young little thing over.

Trent toyed with one of Destiny's curls possessively. "What about you? How you doing?" he kissed her shoulder and glared at his friend.

Destiny seemed to not have notice the tense exchange between the men. "I didn't mind... I liked the stuff we did earlier. Just maybe a little less so I don't pass out this time." She blushed adorably.

Trent heard his friends snort; their minds were deep in the gutters. But he grinned at her reassuringly. "What's mine is yours baby. You want a little bump?" She smiled shyly and nodded. One arm cradled her hips tightly while he leaned forward and pulled the small baggy from his wooden stash box. He slid it across the table to Paul. "Do one of these up for Destiny. She needs a downer right now, not your strong shit."

When the powder was crushed and lined, Paul did his quickly before motioning for Destiny to come do hers. He could have passed the tray over, as he'd done earlier. But Trent knew that Paul wanted her in closer. The way he had the lines set up meant that Destiny was bent over next to Paul, giving him a view of her ass and breasts. Trent watching his friend's eyes rake over her body, his muscles rippling appreciatively as she pulled her hair back, positioned the straw, and took the line in one go.

She closed her eyes as the powder burned her sinuses. Her nose twitched as she forced air through her nostrils. She stood, and leaned her head back in pleasure as the euphoria settled over her. Her curls swung across her body. Paul was watching all of this, a predatory look in his eyes as they stroked her body. When Destiny opened her eyes, Trent saw a long moment of eye contact between the two; Paul leaned towards her and spread a hand over her hip to the small of her back, seemingly helping to steady the girl. The look in the man's eyes told a different story.

Trent stood and gently moved Destiny away so he could take his turn. He made sure to give Paul a warning glare as he leant down to do his line. His friend stared back expressionless.

His friends left a little later, once the game was over, splitting a cab back to town. Destiny was in the kitchen, gathering the empty beer bottles and rinsing cups. Trent certainly hadn't asked her to do that, rather she had simply seen something that needed to be done and did it. He liked that.

Paul was last one out, turning to Trent and sticking a cigarette between his teeth. "Look man. If you don't fuck that filly, I'm going to. Heck, even if you do, I might take a turn in the saddle. Not the first time we shared one, eh?" He grinned.

Trent clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "Respectfully, man, get the fuck out." He gave his shocked friend a shove backwards and snapped the door shut behind him.

Destiny was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping the last of a beer. She looked tired, blurry again. She was drunk, high, and exhausted. And yet her skin was still burning with need. She was stiff and sore, but desperate to be held, to be touched by someone other than her mother's disgusting boyfriend. Trent was moving closer to her, sliding his large hands around her hips.

"Listen," he murmured, his hands tracing her body. "I want to... I'm going to be with you. In my bed. I want to know that that's okay. Because once I start... well, with you, I don't think I'll be able to stop." He waited for her reaction, kissing her neck, stroking the ends of her hair with his fingers. She moaned, buckling as though her knees were weak. He caught her with a hand on her ass, bracing her back against the counter and moving his mouth to hers. She kissed him back, her fingers knotting in his hair.