Long Black Cadillac

by BA Tortuga

  Those dead eyes went wide, and Vance could smell cinnamon gum as the kid breathed out. “He’ll kill you, man.”

  “Promises, promises. It’s harder than it seems.” And he wasn’t anywhere near scared of dying anymore. Hell, bring it on.

  “No. I mean he will.” That head jerked toward Clay, and a horrible gurgle came after, when Clay squeezed until the kid turned purple.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him and me, man. We’ll find an agreement.” That was a fucking amazing color the kid’s face had turned.

  It wasn’t until he put his hand on Clay’s arm that the grip loosened and the kid could get great gasps of air. “Remy. Take Vance and get out of range. I’ll make sure wonder chicken here can’t follow.”

  “I don’t need protection against little piece of shit cleanup crews like him, man.” Right. Go with Remy, like he took orders worth a damn.

  Clay turned on him, baring his teeth. “Honey, please. Go with Remy. I’ll be right out.”

  He shuddered, and it wasn’t from fucking fear either. Shit. Shit, he wanted that bite Clay was promising with those fangs. Goddamn it, what was wrong with him? “Yeah. Come on, Batboy. You got any smokes on you?”

  “Fuck off, man. You ain’t nuttin’ to me.” Remy handed over a crumpled pack, leading him out away from things, hand on his elbow. Ah, Cajun hospitality. They heard a high-pitched wail, and he could just imagine the kind of leverage Clay was using to keep the kid from following. The strains of the Nutcracker were loud and clear.

  He looked over at Remy, who just looked right back. Man, he was on a deeply fucked road, wasn’t he?

  Clay finally came barreling out, grabbing both him and Remy and hauling them along, cursing kinda viciously. “Come on. Come on.”

  One eyebrow went up, but he started moving, hauling ass toward the fucking Caddy like his ass was on fire. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “You know,” Clay said, not even panting as they pelted away full speed. “They don’t make them all as tough as you anymore.”

  “No shit?” He snorted, shaking his head a little. “You trying to tell me my message isn’t going to get to the Colonel?”

  “Oh, I didn’t kill him. Much. He’ll get the message there.”

  Remy started laughing like a loon, whapping Clay on the arm with his free hand. Clay just chuckled sourly, stuffing them both in the back seat of that long black Cadillac. “Anything you need from your place, Remy? I think it’s time to move on, and I ain’t leavin’ you here for them to find.”

  “Oui. Need Granpappy’s bow and the stash of jug liquor. I got clothes too, for me and this other one.”

  “Granpappy’s bow? Are you real or a caricature looking for a place to land?”

  “Don’t be a bitch, Vance. He saddled up to save your bacon when he coulda let you die and had me to himself.” The words were snarly, but Clay reached back for him as he pulled the car out, touching him like the man had to know he was okay.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He pushed into the touch, toes curling. Fuck, that was…. Yeah. “He still hit me with a bat.”

  “I thought you was hurting the boss, man. It wasn’t personal or nothin’. I take care of him.” That was almost cute.

  “I do like that.” Clay smiled at him in the rearview. “Okay, we’ll stop at Remy’s, stop at mine, then hit the road and find someplace smaller…. If that’s possible.”

  “Wouldn’t bigger make more sense? More people, less chance of unfortunate incidents?”

  “Yeah, well, I can eat animals.” There was something there, in Clay’s voice. Some reluctance he’d have to explore later.

  “If you get alligator breath, I’m not fucking kissing you.” They squealed into a trailer park filled with the scariest travel trailers known to man. Jesus Christ.

  Clay turned, glaring. “I’ll eat rats just for you. Go on, Rem. Get your shit.”

  “Gotcha, boss. Be quick as a bunny.” The little fuck scrambled, heading for a blue wreck.

  “He’s your fetch and carry, huh?” Jealous? Him? Fuck, no. Not of that asshole Cajun.

  “He’s a friend.” Clay grinned, relaxing some, making him realize just how much tension had been thrumming through that big body. “Honest to God.”

  “Yeah? What am I?” Vance knew he wasn’t a friend. Hell, they didn’t know shit about each other.

  “You’re mine, honey.” Swarming over the seat, Clay landed on him, stealing his breath. And then kissing the hell out of him.

  He groaned like he was fucking dying; he couldn’t help it. Every fucking nerve in his body woke up, started tingling and sparking.

  “Mmmm. Jesus, honey.” Clay all but ate him up, lips smashing down on him again and again.

  “Lord, Lord. Can’t you two keep it together for a minute?” The car door opened and closed, the big engine roaring to life after Remy settled in the driver’s seat.

  “Hmm?” Blinking, Clay glanced up front, then turned back to him. It was Remy. That made it safe to make out, right? Unless he bit, and then he’d get the bat.

  “Nothing, boss. You just eat the Frankenstein guy, and we’ll recoup. It’s all good.”

  Oh, he was gonna kick Remy’s ass. As soon as Clay let him go and his cock went down.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Okay, Clay didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but him. That gave him a happy, made everything else just fade right away. Of course, Clay’s hand on his cock, rubbing through his jeans, had him arching, had his chin lifting to push their mouths harder together.

  “More,” Clay said against his mouth, pushing up on top of him until he slid down the back of the seat, almost horizontal.

  “Mm-hmm.” He was fucking agreeing without knowing what Clay wanted more of. His jeans opened right up under that strong hand. He didn’t think the zipper moved. Clay just tore the cloth, pulled his cock out, and pumped it.

  Oh. Oh, fuck him raw. Vance’s eyes rolled like dice, and he just started humping, hips pumping furiously.

  “Come on, lover. I need….” Clay cupped his head with one hand, pulling his mouth to that long neck. Yeah. Oh, fuck yeah. He growled, bit hard, the action easier than before, his teeth slipping in, dark blood on his tongue, burning him deep down.

  “Uhn.” Bucking against him, Clay moaned, the sound deep, animalistic. The car swerved a bit, but Vance ignored it, licking and sucking as Clay rocked and rocked.

  His lips left the long throat with a pop as he shook. “Close. Close, fuck.”

  “Then get it over with. Lord. You two are enough to make a Cajun cry.” He was so getting Remy a gag.

  Clay pulled his face back around, staring right into his eyes before bending to take a deep bite right into his throat, teeth sliding in like tiny razors. It sent him fucking flying, his whole body shaking with it. He came so hard his bones rattled, hands opening and closing as heat poured out of him, just like Clay’d demanded it.

  Lord, but Clay followed right along, grunting, pushing hard against him, and even with Clay’s jeans still closed up tight as a preacher’s wife, he could smell it. Smell Clay when he came.

  They floated a second, then the car came to a stop. “Done? Good. We’re here, cher. Up. Out. And clean yourselves up. You smell like a cathouse.”

  Oh yeah.

  A gag.

  A big red ball gag.

  He’d even write Remy’s name on it.

  HUH.

  Remy didn’t know what he thought about Boo being… permanent. Was he permanent? Maybe not. He sure kept trying to run away. That gator had almost had him….

  Remy wished it had. Just a little. He didn’t want to have to be running off and all. His place wasn’t much, but it was… well, it was rented. Maybe he ought to look on this as an adventure.

  That was it. An adventure with him and with the boss. Boo would either come or go.

  Maybe Remy would drag him into the swamp when he was out. Boss was chewin’ hard on him.

  If Clay took too much….

  That would be
easiest of all.

  The boss never felt guilty. No, sir, he just shrugged it off and said they were too weak to take it. Him, he was strong.

  He pulsed with blood, him. La, yes. He ached to give himself over.

  His teeth hurt, in fact, and his hair. Didn’t help that the boss and the Boo was back there… doing things.

  Assholes.

  “Y’all is being bad.”

  “Mmm?” Boss was just not paying any attention to anything but the new boy, and Remy couldn’t help it. He was jealous. He wanted to be in the back there, offering up his neck, his soul.

  But no, the blond was back there with all them scars and all them pains.

  “Nothin’, boss.”

  “Don’t you worry, Rem. You’ll get your chance to be bad.” Clay’s voice was almost too deep, like a vodoun’s.

  “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” I don’t believe you, but I hear you.

  For now, he wouldn’t be able to get none of his anyway.

  All he could really do was drive.

  SOMETHING WAS coming.

  Gryph had been dreaming in his day sleep, something he hadn’t done for decades. Usually a full belly meant deep, uninterrupted sleep at his age, but today the image had been vivid in his mind. Black cars and blood.

  Black cars. Another of his own and….

  Someone. Something.

  Gryph stretched, needing to get up and move. To prepare.

  He needed to make his den.

  He stopped, tilting his head. Where had that come from?

  Blinking, Gryph crawled out of bed. He didn’t need much, since it was just him…. But now he knew what he had to do.

  Gryph needed to get ready for his own. Make things right. Oh, it had been a long time. A long time.

  He hadn’t ever expected to feel this again. It made him shudder, made him ache.

  Gryph looked around. He was rather a neat man, but his new arrival liked all things weird and sparkly. Hrm.

  He needed to augment to keep his new dear one happy. Pillows. Blankets. Strange antique doodads. Time for a shopping trip. Maybe a little breaking and entering. Wouldn’t that piss off the Colonel?

  It would amuse him endlessly. A touch of chaos to distract.

  Chortling, he checked the window, just to make sure the dreams hadn’t disturbed his sense of time. Ah, good. Just gone dark.

  Time to go out and about, ready himself for what was to come. He wondered how late Pier One stayed open….

  Chapter Twelve

  THEY FOUND a roach motel somewhere out in the swamp, just off a two-lane state highway.

  The only thing around was an all-night Amoco and a liquor store, so Clay figured they didn’t need to worry about posting a lookout. They sent Remy for snacks because he blended, and that crazy Cajun came back with Slim Jims and Twinkies and all manner of weird local food. Pickled pig’s feet, for God’s sake.

  Now they were all sitting around the little room with its two double beds, kinda staring. Clay could feel the sun coming up out there, but Remy had duct-taped the curtains closed and put out the Do Not Disturb sign, locking the deadbolt.

  Vance stood, stripping off his shirt, the scars white and fascinating on the darker skin. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Damn, what you do to yourself, Boo?” Remy’s eyes looked just about big as saucers.

  Clay wondered that himself, even as he slid a hand around that trim waist. “You gonna tell us, or just want me to come get wet with you?”

  “Isn’t much to tell. I was an undercover cop. I got blown. The guys I was watching expressed their displeasure over a couple of long, long days.” Vance’s expression stayed pretty grim through the telling.

  “That don’t sound like the good blowin’, Boo. No, sir.”

  Bless his heart, Remy just had the care gene. He couldn’t be nasty to anyone. Clay grinned over. “You coming too, babe?”

  “Your boy don’t mind, yeah, I am.” Remy’s smile answered his, the man coming right to him, just like always. Sweet baby.

  Tugging them both into the bathroom, Clay chuckled. “We won’t get much hot water, but the tub is big enough.” Might as well get them used to each other. Remy wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Vance.

  “I can wait, man.” Vance didn’t pull away, though. Hell, the man headed to the tub and got the water going. His words never seemed to match the need that burned in that scarred body like a wildfire.

  “No need to.” Clay stripped down, reaching for Vance after he was naked, just needing to see the rest of that skin.

  Remy stared at Vance, Remy’s little dark body half-exposed. “Lord, Lord. You gotta be the strongest motherfucker ever.”

  “You’re talking too much, Rem.” Clay winked at Vance. “It’s one of his failings. Come on, you two. Before it gets cold.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch.” Remy chuckled, stripping off the tattered jeans as Vance stepped into the tub, pulled the curtain half closed.

  Man, Vance was gonna have to work on that shy thing. Not that Clay could blame him. He’d all but been killed, he was totally out of his element, and this thing between them… well, it was just too damned weird. Clay stepped into the bath, pushing right up behind Vance. “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey.” Yeah, Vance looked good wet, hair plastered down, skin shining. That tight ass felt even better than it looked, snuggling right up to his cock.

  “You gonna make it?” That body was tense as hell, and Clay just set to touching, relaxing the hard muscles, knowing Rem knew the drill well enough to join them on his own.

  “Think so. Maybe.”

  Remy slid in behind him, hands running up his spine, working his muscles.

  “Oh, good. Wouldn’t want you to fall apart.” Humming, Clay pushed back, then forward, figuring he’d found vamp heaven. All that skin. Two sets of hands. Vampires were, at their core, hedonists. Clay figured the blood did that to them.

  “I’m not the fall-apart type.” Yeah, and Vance didn’t sleep and didn’t need like no one else either.

  “No? Well, I should check, just to make sure you’re all good, huh?” His lips slid down Vance’s nape, his tongue coming out to taste a little.

  “No more biting.”

  Clay grinned; the words were sounding more and more like a fucking endearment. He approved. Of course, he also approved of the way Remy was licking along his spine, hands rubbing his ass.

  “Uh-huh. No biting. I swear.” He was a big fat liar, was what he was. Clay let his teeth scrape right where he wanted them to, hoping for at least a shiver.

  He got it, Vance groaning and resting against the tile, Remy’s laugh just barely audible.

  “Mmmm. Yeah.” Man, he could just stay right there forever. Especially since the bathroom didn’t have a window. Score. Daylight-proof with hot running water.

  Remy was licking and nibbling, Vance rubbing against him, that muscled body moving in slow undulations. Damn, this was…. Yeah. A man could get used to it. He reached back to stroke Remy’s hip, his other hand sliding around Vance’s belly. His cock was hard, just rubbing on Vance like nothing going.

  Remy cuddled in, thick, short cock on his thigh, hotter than the water and leaving wet kisses. Vance spread, his cock sliding in that tight crack. Jesus Lord. Clay moaned, pushing harder against Vance, his hand sliding down to cup Vance’s prick, thumb running up and down. He squeezed Remy’s hip, pulling the kid in closer, harder.

  “Fuck.” Vance’s head fell forward, giving him all that long, scarred neck.

  “We ain’t got that much hot water, Boo.” Remy groaned, humping against him like a bad puppy.

  Laughing, Clay bit down on that amazing skin, the feel of it making him jerk and hump. He thumped Remy a little, just giving that crazy Cajun a hint of a sting. They moved together, all three of them grunting and rocking, him caught smack-dab in the middle, right where he wanted to be. Clay stroked and pulled, kissed and pinched. Somehow he managed to get them all turned so Vance and Remy were both rubb
ing up on him, their cocks sliding on his skin, him taking one kiss after the other. Remy was spicy; Vance tasted dark and sharp. They were both fucking addictive.

  Fucking hot.

  He was gonna blow in no time, all the danger and running and almost losing Vance fucking overwhelming. Clay reached for whatever skin he could hold on to, his hips rocking like crazy. Two hands dropped, wrapped around his prick. Both his men stilled, then Remy twined their fingers together, both of them in front of him like the best kind of dream, working his cock. His head fell back, his muscles going so tight Clay thought he might just explode. “Jesus. Yeah. There.”

  Vance growled, teeth scraping on his skin even as Remy’s thumb pressed into his slit. That did it. His brain shorted out and he came like a ton of bricks, unable to stifle his loud cry. Maybe it was even a roar.

  “Oh. Oh, cher. So pretty.” Remy kept rocking, lips brushing over his jaw as Vance bit his arm, hard enough to sting.

  Clay’s knees sagged, but he managed to loop an arm around both his men and stay standing, turning to sink his teeth into Vance’s shoulder. He’d just take a little. A tiny bit. Vance jerked, spunk splashing on his hip, followed in a few seconds by Remy, hot and sweet against his thigh.

  That was just the ticket. All of them got to come before they ran out of hot water, and they got to wash to boot.

  The night might have been a disaster, but the morning was shaping up to be much better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  MAN. HIS life hadn’t been white fences and roses and shit, but it hadn’t been this deeply fucked and weird in at least a couple of years. Not since he’d left Vinnie behind and not looked back.

  Vance lit his cigarette, staring out into the setting sun through his sunglasses. Man, he was getting old somehow, when the early evening sun made him feel like his skin was too tight and his eyes were itching.

  “Boo, you getting all burny out here, yeah? The boss is still sleeping.” The little bat-wielding Cajun slipped out, cigarette between his teeth. “I’m fixin’ to go to the Walmart. Get some supplies and shit.”