Long Black Cadillac

by BA Tortuga

“I do. You sure you want me to go, cher? He’ll wake up growly.”

  “I can handle it, Rem.” Lord, why couldn’t it have been Remy that he had a serious, primal jones for? It would make things so much easier. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, boss.” Remy nodded and gave him a look before heading for the door. “I’ll be around.”

  “I know, babe. I’ll look out for you. You know it.” He would too. He wouldn’t leave Remy hanging. Even with… whatever it was he and Vance had going. Remy was a good man, the best friend he’d ever had.

  Remy just waved and headed out, and he heard the rumble of the big old pickup as Remy gunned it and left. Sighing, Clay scrubbed his hand over his head before heading back to make sure Vance wasn’t brain damaged. Lord, that Remy should’ve gone into the major leagues.

  Vance’s eyes popped open as soon as he touched one shoulder, bloodshot and rolling, fury palpable. “What the fuck?”

  “Sorry, honey.” Ducking backward, Clay avoided the initial rage. “Remy thought you were gonna kill me. He brought food. And porn.”

  “You got a lot of lovers coming to protect you?”

  “No. Hell, Remy is a damned good friend, and we were doing it, up ’til you.” He had diarrhea of the mouth. That was his only excuse.

  “I take up too much of your time?” Was that jealousy?

  “No. You’re the only one that gets my dick up now.” He grabbed Vance and pulled the man right up against him. “I let you fucking bite me.”

  “You asked me to fucking bite you.”

  “I know!” Shaking Vance like a terrier with a rat, Clay snarled, lips curling back. “What the fuck is going on?”

  Vance pulled away, grabbing the sheet, growling back as that fascinating skin was hidden from him. “You tell me!”

  Clay mourned the loss of that sight, but maybe they needed to talk. “You should eat. Then we’ll go on and on and be all touchy-feely.”

  He got a glare. “Don’t make me hurt you. Your boy just whacked me with a bat. I’m fucking grumpy.”

  “I know, okay? Look, just come eat some roast beef and sit a minute. I think Remy brought aspirin too.”

  Vance’s eyes lit up at the idea of meat, and he tore into the food. Yeah, if he was going to keep playing, Clay needed to feed the man more often, that was for sure. Was he gonna keep playing? He sure wanted to. Just the thought had his teeth tingling and his cock twitching.

  Vance ate hearty, accepting the aspirin and ripping into the roast like a true carnivore. Clay drank a beer, which tasted pretty foul, but he figured it would put Vance at ease. Normal, buddy shit.

  “Do you get anything out of that?” Vance nodded to the bottle. “I’ve seen you drink booze.”

  “Beer? Not so much. I can get a little bit of a tingle out of Jack and shit.” Liquid stuff always did better than solid. Clay shrugged. “Thought it might relax things.”

  “This is deeply fucked-up.” Vance looked down at the remains of the roast, head on one hand. “Deeply.”

  “Uh-huh. I know it. I want to hump you like a bad dog, honey. Like right now.” They might could kill themselves doing that. Clay had never heard of a bond like this, or whatever the fuck it was.

  “And I am supposed to be encouraging you to move on.” Vance’s eyes dragged down his belly, burning him. “I don’t know dick about you.”

  “You know my dick, though.” That had him snorting, almost passing beer through his nose. Lord, he was a redneck, even if he almost predated the term. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. I want you.”

  “It’s not going to fly to tell you I don’t want you, is it?”

  “Hell no. All I have to do is make bitey faces at you, and I can see your heartbeat go crazy.” It throbbed right there, in Vance’s throat. In his cock.

  “Asshole. You can’t see anything for the scars.” The growl was hot.

  “I can see. I can smell it too. Goddamn.” Shit, he could just… eat the man up. Vance blushed, the blood right there, tempting him, driving him out of his fucking mind. His cock rose right up, his belly pulling in tight. Clay took two steps and went to his knees in front of Vance, pushing the sheet aside and nuzzling Vance’s belly.

  “We’re… we’re supposed to be talking, man.”

  Uh-huh. Talking. Talking was fucking overrated. “I am. I’m speaking in tongues.” He licked his way up those scars, just tasting and loving.

  “Clay.” One hand wrapped around his nape, tugging him closer. Shit, yeah.

  “Uh-huh. Fuck, you smell good.” Jesus, the man had him excited as a dog with two tails.

  “We just fucked a while ago, before your guy popped me….” Vance spread out, legs sprawling.

  “Well, yeah, but this is different.” Why it was, he didn’t know. But it was. Kinda. More like exploring.

  “Is it?” He could feel Vance’s heart beating. Thud. Thud. Thud.

  “It is. Lord, it’s good with you.” His cheek scraped against Vance’s belly, those hard thighs.

  “How…? Have you ever felt this?” Vance’s hips started rolling, started moving nice and easy.

  “No. Didn’t I tell you that?” Those heavy balls were right there, right below the hardest prick he’d ever tasted, and Clay touched both, fingers sliding and cupping.

  “Yeah. Maybe? I don’t know. How long have you been here?” Vance stretched, pushing into his touch. Fuck, that was hot.

  “Here, here?” Clay had to think on that one, which interrupted his sucking and licking. “Five years?”

  “That’s a time. You must be careful.”

  “Hell, I thought I was. Then you showed up.” Shit, he still couldn’t figure what he’d done. Remy didn’t have loose lips, and he’d been so sure he’d chosen carefully….

  Vance shrugged. “I just followed orders. I didn’t expect… you.”

  “Yeah, I figured….” He surged up, needing that mouth, sharing Vance’s taste with the man. God, he needed. Vance slid down, landed in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. Hot. Fuck him, that was good.

  He cupped that sweet ass, his lips traveling down Vance’s throat. Scars. Jesus. Everywhere, and he wanted to find them all. It was fucking fascinating, the texture, the way they felt under his tongue, under his lips. The way touching them made Vance shiver.

  “What are we gonna do, honey?” He just… what was that fucking boss of Vance’s gonna do? He’d already sent someone else.

  “I…. The smart thing is to go, head out. Tell the Colonel you’re moving on….”

  “Too late.” His teeth scraped across one scar, the skin moving under his mouth, resisting for half a second. “He’s sent a backup.”

  “A backup?” Vance went still, shivering against his lips. “What the fuck does that mean, I wonder….”

  “I don’t know. Remy’s seen him. Right above that spot, just right there, he could smell the blood running, the veins pulsing. Clay took a tiny sip, breaking the skin delicately.

  “You…. What did I… I tell you about biting?”

  “No. You said no. Good thing I never listened to a soul in my life. Can’t tell me nothin’, honey.” He bit a little harder, the heat rising up to feed him.

  “Fuck me, that’s sexy. How the fuck can that be a turn-on?” Somebody thought too much for his own good.

  Clay pulled Vance closer, harder against his skin, his mouth working and his hips humping. If Vance could talk, he was doing something wrong. Vance’s thighs went tight, body starting to move in time with his, just like that. Fucking sweet. That was much better. Much. Clay left stinging bites all over that hot body, watching muscles flex, rubbing like fucking crazy.

  Each bite left a mark behind, the tiny bruises catching his eye. Each one of those tiny marks made him harder, hotter. God, it had him moaning, trying to crawl into Vance’s skin. Vance grabbed his hand, brought his wrist up to that hungry mouth, teeth scraping the thin skin.

  “Yeah. Yeah, lover. You can.” Clay bit down on Vance’s shoulder, the
taste of hot blood, Vance’s blood, exploding through him.

  “I… I shouldn’t….” Those teeth dug in, wanting in. Wanting inside his skin.

  “Please. Jesus, please.” Licking, gnawing, Clay pressed his wrist harder to Vance’s mouth, begging. It was a burn, a dull pain, but when Vance broke through, they both growled. The suction was sudden and hungry, Vance’s mouth pulling at him. Clay felt it all the way to his toes, like Vance was drawing all of him up through his body, drinking him down. Clay all but whimpered, his hips jerking crazily.

  Vance pushed him down, swarming over the top of him so their cocks lined up, started sliding together.

  “Uhn.” His head fell back, clunking against the floor, and Clay went with it, his free hand cupping that hard-muscled ass to pull Vance closer. “More.”

  “Demanding fucker.” Vance was on fire above him, jerking and rubbing and biting him, just sending him higher.

  “Want you.” It was that simple. He was gonna explode. Like right now. When Vance bit down on his neck, that was all she wrote. Clay came like a fucking starburst, wet and hot between their bellies.

  Vance groaned, started humping him like a bad dog, fingers digging into him and keeping him close. He held on, watching that amazing face, listening to the sounds Vance made. Fuck, that man was the hottest thing going. Lips stained with blood, cheeks all flushed—Vance looked like a wet dream, jerking and shooting, heat spraying over his skin.

  They fell to the floor together, both of them shaking, both of them on the verge of collapse. Clay’s muscles trembled, his vision blurring out. Hell, if he had to die, let it be this way.

  Hell, it couldn’t be any harder than the first time he’d done it.

  Chapter Eleven

  VANCE SLIPPED out in the middle of the day, wincing at the glare of the sun, pulling his hat down over his face. He didn’t fucking know what was going on with the Colonel and Clay and all this happy sending-a-replacement shit, but he was fixin’ to find out, goddamn it.

  It was harder than he thought to find his way out from the fucking swamp, and after a couple of hours, he was cussing his decision to be a decent person and not steal Clay’s motherfucking Caddy. He’d have brought it back, after all.

  He hit the main highway around 5:00 p.m., stomping the worst of the gator shit and mud off his boots so he’d have some sort of a chance to hitch a ride. He’d washed, after all, covered the goose egg in his head with a ball cap, and covered most of his scars. He shouldn’t look too terrifying. Of course, the dude that picked him up in the Peterbilt made him look like Little Bo Peep. Jesus Christ on a crutch.

  By the time he landed in town—after baring his teeth and snarling at the poor fucking trucker who wanted a blow job for gas money—he was starving and furious and hunting.

  Wait.

  No.

  Looking.

  He was looking for his replacement.

  To talk to the little fuck.

  Goddamn it.

  The sound of a gun cocking had him freezing, his hands shooting up. Fucking Christ, he didn’t have a thing worth robbing.

  “I don’t have a fucking thing you want. You’d better move on.” What was with this goddamn town and guns?

  “Oh, I think you do, man. Walk. We’re going to the roach motel down the way.” That was a Yankee voice, and vaguely familiar.

  “Did I do something special to warrant an armed escort to the local bed-by-the-hour?” Man, talk about working quick. He didn’t have to search for his replacement.

  “Yep. Consorting with the enemy. Move.” The shadow of that gun disappeared, but he knew it would come out quick.

  “Consorting? Fuck you, man.” Shit. Shit. Vance put on his undercover face, rolled his eyes.

  “No thanks. I can smell the fucker on you. I’d love to give you the benefit of the doubt, man, but I’m thinking not.” The motel loomed, all neon and dirty brick, and the guy pushed him toward room one thirteen. Yeah. That was a great omen.

  “Am I the classiest guy the Colonel hired or what? I mean, really, man. This place is nasty.” Okay, he just needed to get his hands on that weapon.

  “You have a better budget. Sit.” Now he remembered this guy. Brown hair, scarred cheek. Cleanup crew.

  “Man, I haven’t ratted anyone out. Hell, I took a blow to the head, see?” He whipped the cap off, knowing the lump was fucking impressive.

  The guy studied him a minute. “One way or the other, you need debriefing. Maybe even deprogramming. Those fuckers are dangerous.”

  Lord, look at that… zeal. Had he ever been that….

  No.

  No, he’d been all about the cash. He’d lost the whole zeal thing about the eighth month undercover with the force. That kind of blind fire was a luxury a man living two lives couldn’t afford.

  “Debrief away, man. I’m all ears.”

  “Why didn’t you do your job?” the guy snarled.

  Uh. Yeah, that was a good start, huh? “Has he been feeding since I showed up?”

  Wasn’t that his job? To encourage them to find new feeding grounds?

  “No. But he’s still here. Colonel wants him gone.” The unspoken echo of the “for good” was there. He could almost hear the Colonel say it, that slow drawl making his teeth clench.

  “What’s the Colonel’s hard-on for this one?” Hell, what was his hard-on for Clay? Maybe Clay was just hard-on inducing, for fuck’s sake.

  “I don’t know and I don’t ask. I just follow orders.” That look was reptilian, emotionless, just fucking scary. He’d said that to Clay, hadn’t he? Just following orders.

  “I know all about that, man.” The fact was, he’d just fucking woken up. He wasn’t in order-following mode anymore.

  “You sure about that? What’s his weakness? How do I get to him?”

  “You don’t honestly think I’m going to let you have the job, do you? He’s mine.” A pure, white-hot rage surprised him, bubbling up through him. His hands clenched into fists.

  “You’re too close to the situation. You’re out.” The kid flicked a dismissive hand, reaching for the black cell phone on the dresser.

  Vance struck, quick as a snake, grabbing the kid’s wrist and wrenching it back, dragging the fuck away from the phone.

  “Shit!” Moving fast, the asshole ducked around, breaking his hold, going right for that fucking pistol.

  He was not fucking getting shot in a crappy motherfucking hotel.

  No.

  Fucking.

  Way.

  He dropped down, going for the body slam, shoulder connecting with the motherfucker’s breadbasket. A sharp grunt sounded, that solid body going backward, but damn the kid was strong. They grappled for the gun, but the battle eventually tipped in Vance’s favor. He just had too much stubborn to lose.

  He grabbed the pistol and caught the kid in the chin with the butt. “Goddamn it. Will you sit down?”

  “No. You’re fucking out of control.” The kid rolled to his feet, cupping his lower jaw, blood dripping from his lips. Vance could see the crouch, see the kid making ready to come in again.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, kid.” He didn’t like random violence. He caused it, but he didn’t get off on it.

  “You’re gonna have to, to stop me.” Okay. Shit, that little fuck was gonna make another charge.

  He cocked the gun, put on his best police officer face. “I will shoot you, kid. Freeze.”

  The moment the kid stopped dead, leaving him thinking it was all good, the fucking door burst open behind him. And all hell broke loose. He spun around, his hand with the pistol flying up with a casual knock from a baseball bat. Something flew past him, somebody screamed, and he reached out with a numb hand to get that bat and beat someone to death.

  The bat didn’t hit him, but it didn’t come when he pulled, either. It was that Cajun of Clay’s, clinging like a pit bull, but he didn’t have to worry about it. Clay had a hold on his replacement, lifting the man up against the wall by the throat.

>   “If you kill him, I can’t ask questions.” Vance jerked the bat again. “And call off your dog!”

  “Rem! Back off, babe.” Clay nodded, his eyes kinda glowing, teeth bared. But backing off. Just like the guy with the bat.

  Babe, huh? Interesting. Asshole. Stringing a lot of people along.

  He shook it off, stood right up, nose to nose with the cleaning staff. “You feel like chatting yet, fuckhead?”

  “Fuck you, man.” That would have come off better if that voice didn’t sound like it had been through a meat grinder. Clay hadn’t been gentle with that throat squeeze.

  “Uh. No.” He reached down, grabbed the guy’s nuts, and squeezed. “I’ve been hit with a bat, come on to by a trucker, and chased by an alligator today. I’m grumpy, man. When are you supposed to report to the Colonel?”

  Those lizard eyes went wide, the kid trying to crawl up the wall to get away from him. “Eight. I’m supposed to call him at eight.”

  “Good dog. Now, tell me, what does the boss man want to hear from you at eight? Am I supposed to be toast or what?”

  “No. Just him. I’m supposed to bring you in. Like I said. Deprogram you. Vamp bites can make you crazy.”

  A low growl came from Clay, the man just moving in like that gator that had stalked his ass. Boom. “Gonna eat him, honey. I swear.”

  “He’d give you the shits.” In, huh? Shit, that sounded ominous and remarkably unfun.

  “No one’s taking you anywhere.” Man, Clay did rumbly really well.

  “This is why you’re in shit, man,” the kid croaked. “You’re compromised.”

  “Compromised? Christ, kid, you’ve got a hard-on for the job, don’t you?” Was he? Vance didn’t feel compromised. He felt rested and fucking awake for the first time in five years. Maybe sleep was a good thing after all.

  The kid grunted again, sounding for all the world like a pig. “I just follow orders.”

  Clay gave Vance a hard look. “Let me squash him like a bug?”

  “No, I want him headed back to base with a message.” He stepped up, got right in the little fuck’s face. “One, you tell that motherfucker that no one—no one—drags my ass in, and two, I quit. If he sends you back, I’ll fucking tear you into pieces so small the birds’ll eat ’em.”