Road Trip, Volume 1

by BA Tortuga

  Right?

  Right.

  “Come on.” Sonny led the way to the living room, then plopped down on the floor in front of a rattan coffee table, plate and cup settled easily. “You’ll be hungry as hell, I bet.”

  “Yeah.” Hungry. Confused. Deeply fucked-up. There were lots of things he was.

  They ate in relative silence, broken only by the clink of silverware and Sonny’s occasional mumbled “Hey, not bad banana things.”

  MJ ate like he was starving, every so often looking at Sonny’s feet. So, the boots would be a little big, but he could manage, if he had to. The jeans would be harder.

  They’d definitely foul him up if he had to run. But he could roll them… of course, Sonny was naked too. And he hadn’t seen anyone else’s suitcases either.

  “So where are we? Exactly?” He’d start with the easy parts and work his way up.

  “Montego Bay. Always wanted to see it. I like the song.” Sonny grinned, the look far more genuine than he’d gotten all day. “It’s pretty. You’ll have to see.”

  Well, he’d definitely be here a bit, so he could plan his next move. “Now that I’m conscious and mobile, hmm?”

  “Yeah. You’re heavier’n you look, buddy. It was hell getting you here.”

  “You could have… uh… not.”

  That son of a bitch batted those too-long eyelashes at him. “I wanted to share with you. We’ve had so many experiences already.”

  “You know, the only reason I haven’t beaten you to death is because I don’t know where my pants are. That could change.” Right now, in fact.

  Sonny blinked at him. “You think? After I made you supper? That would be downright rude.”

  Rude.

  “I would hate to seem rude.” MJ bet, if thrown hard enough, the dinner plate could make a dent in Sonny’s head. “Where are my pants again?”

  “Now, don’t get sore. I bet if we went for a swim and maybe fucked good and hard, you’d be in a much better mood in no time.” Bland as butter, that look, like every word was perfectly reasonable.

  “As nice and tight as your ass looks, I’m not sure I’m up to nailing you right this second.” He was not having this conversation.

  Not.

  “Oh, Precious, we had this discussion before. I don’t bottom.” He got a concerned look as Sonny cleaned his plate. “Did you get some brain damage? I was afraid you might. I don’t know if I want you all broken.”

  Okay.

  Okay.

  “I want my clothes.”

  He was done playing. He needed his clothes, his wallet, and his laptop. Access to his money. Maybe a massage.

  Head tilting, Sonny looked him over, nodding. “Okay. You go get the dishes. I’ll get your shit.”

  Just like that. Sonny got up, headed off to the back room, leaving him staring at long, long legs and a tight, high ass.

  Thank God or whatever it was that got through to the crazy bastard. He put the dishes in the sink, eyes drawn to the water, the sand. Fuck, he did love the beach. Maybe they’d have a job for him here. If not, maybe he’d just stay anyway for a few months.

  “Here you go.” He heard his bag thump down on the floor and went back out. Sure enough, there was his suitcase, his backpack, and his laptop bag.

  “Fucking A.” He pulled on a pair of pants and some sandals, digging until he found a muscle shirt. Excellent. He swung the backpack on and grabbed the other two bags, mourning the fact that his knife and his piece would have been left behind.

  Still, he had a little over six hundred thousand dollars US sitting happy in the bank. He could afford more.

  Maybe he’d just hire someone to shoot Sunshine.

  Who just sat on the couch, smiling this weird smile, arms crossed, legs sprawled out. Graphically.

  Not that he was looking.

  Well, okay, he was looking.

  It was worth looking at.

  “Have a good one, man. Thanks for the ride.” See him. See him not kill anybody.

  Today.

  “No problem. Too bad you can’t stay for dessert. I’ll leave the door unlocked, though.” Sonny got up, scratched. “Gonna go take a nap.”

  “Cool.”

  Dude. The man was insane. Really. Deeply. Terrifically. In that Singapore stalker prostitute sort of way.

  MJ headed out toward the beach, eager to feel the sand between his toes and to find a spot where his cell got reception.

  Chapter Five

  SONNY SNUFFLED a little, rolling over on his side, trying to decide if he wanted to wake up or if he just wanted to stagger out onto the porch and collapse in the hammock and sleep some more, this time in the sun. He didn’t really want to get up. Maybe he’d just roll over and get the other side of his body cooled off.

  He cracked one eye open and looked at his watch, which sat on the nightstand. Wow, a whole hour and a half and MJ hadn’t come back and tried to bash his head in.

  Moaning, Sonny rolled over on his back and gave his cock a few quick yanks. Precious was pretty when he was angry, that was for sure.

  “You wouldn’t want to pull it off. Your BVDs wouldn’t fit.”

  Oh, there was some rage in that voice. Sonny cracked an eye, peeking. Hadn’t found a pistol yet.

  Maybe he’d decided not to trade the laptop for it. It was the only thing Sonny had left in all that luggage. Driver’s license, passports, cash and credit cards, yeah, he had kept all those.

  “Was just thinking of you, Precious.”

  “Were you? Funny how that works.”

  God, that son of a bitch had pretty eyes, all blue and fiery and shit. Sonny grinned, gave another couple of tugs, just ’cause it felt good. “Uh-huh. I was. Enjoy your tour of the bay?”

  “For about twenty minutes, yes.” One blond eyebrow rose up and up and up. “You seem to have misplaced some of my stuff.”

  “Have I?” Oh, he was enjoying MJ now that the drug haze had worn off. Much more danger-man. Much more fun to play with. “Like what?”

  “My phone. Wallet. Passports. Cash. Cards. ID. Those little things.” MJ had a length of rope in his hands. Could be to tie him up, could be to beat the shit out of him. Could be because MJ liked the feel of it in his hands.

  Fully awake now, Sonny tensed his muscles, casual-like, one at a time, getting ready for whatever MJ might have in mind. “Well, I didn’t want you doing something rash.”

  “Rash? Now I’m not sure where you’d get the idea that I was rash.” MJ shifted a little, rope twisting out in his hands, looking like it might just chafe. “In fact, if you’ll just point me to the rest of my stuff, I think you’ll find me almost reasonable.”

  “I’m not sure I want to do that.” Too fucking fun. “You fail to understand a fundamental truth, Precious.”

  There went the other eyebrow, meeting its brother. “And what might that be?”

  He rolled off the bed, trying to pretend his ankle wasn’t feeling like tiny midgets were hammering at it with red-hot pokers. “I do everything the hard way.”

  MJ came after him, moving smooth and easy. It was like watching a big cat hunt, complete with weird-assed growl.

  Sonny stood his ground. Hadn’t he proven he could to this little shit yet? He’d be goddamned if he’d back down. Luckily, his stiffy had. Backed down, that was.

  “I’ve decided you’re either stoned or insane. Makes it a shame to have to kick your ass, really.”

  “You just try it, Precious.” Sonny sighed, his hands clenching and unclenching, ready for an attack. Man, you go someplace to relax, bring the corpse-like body of the guy you bonded with over an exploding cabin and damned fine chase scene, and all you got was shit in return.

  “Why did you decide to bring me here again? You were stirring the eggs, listening to the water run, and thought, oh man. Morphine.” That tiny line between MJ’s eyebrows was just something. Cute as fuck.

  “Actually, I decided while you were talking about not flying. I mean, driving to the West Coast and c
atching a boat to Maui just seemed wasteful. And since I needed to lay low awhile, it seemed like I could kill two birds with one stone….”

  Damn it, it did make sense.

  It did.

  “And it never occurred to you to ask me? You don’t have many privacy issues, do you?”

  “With a guy who blows shit up for a living? No.” This was getting old, running in circles. Fun as it was to argue his point, he was naked while MJ was clothed, and his ankle hurt. “Look, if you go out where the back room meets the porch, there’s a loose floorboard. Your shit’s in there. Knock yourself out.”

  “I never said I blew anything up.” MJ headed for the door, rope dangling.

  “You didn’t have to. How many times do I have to tell you? I saw all your shit in your bag.” He followed, frowning as his ankle tried to give out. He had to make sure MJ didn’t return the favor—take his clothes and all.

  “Didn’t you go get your fucking ankle looked at? How’re you supposed to run a meth lab all gimpy?”

  He gritted his teeth. “It was fucking fine until you tackled me and knocked it out of whack. And I do not run a meth lab.”

  “It’s the chance you take, kidnapping dangerous men. And it looked like a meth lab.” MJ looked fucking tickled. Tickled.

  Asshole. Well, Sonny supposed sourly, the man did have a little right to laugh after all he’d been through. Even if it was for his own good. “Bullshit. It looked like a storage facility for a still.”

  “I’m still not completely sure that’s illegal, man. I mean, that’s a lot of trouble for booze.”

  “Oh, for….” He sat, kinda abruptly, on the little couch against the back wall. Man. No more walking for, like, a year.

  Those blue eyes looked back at him, looked him over. “You okay? You want some pants?”

  That was precisely why he’d brought the asshole with him on vacation. That fucking concern that MJ just couldn’t stop himself from showing. Sonny nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said. “In the blue bag.”

  MJ dug out everything from the hidey-hole and found him a pair of soft-soft shorts, actually fucking helped him get them on. “Did you use all the pain pills too?”

  “No.” He grinned wryly. “Didn’t want both of us down, just in case….” Well, just in case someone was still looking for either of them. Lord knew, he had his share of folks who would want his head. He’d bet MJ did too.

  “You think it’s broken?” MJ started digging, pulled out a fat white pill. “If it is, you’ll have to go to a real doctor.”

  “The guy this morning said no, but he didn’t exactly have an X-ray machine or a degree on the wall.” Still, he’d been pretty thorough. “Of course, that was before our friendly little good day earlier.”

  “Don’t push, asshole. You deserved it.” MJ grabbed his foot, moving it carefully. It hurt, but it wasn’t deadly.

  “I’m not.” He really, really wasn’t. Not with the guy holding his foot. Sonny put his head back, closed his eyes. What a fucking roller-coaster week. Maybe he needed Prozac. His eyes popped open. “You’re not gonna drug me and leave me here.”

  “I’m not?” MJ looked just about surprised. “I should.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. I took you with me, at least. Hell, I could have bolted out of that cabin and left you there to deal with those logger boys.” Damn it. He’d done his good deeds. He had.

  MJ nodded, looking at him dead-on, one hand rubbing MJ’s head and neck. Man must have a hellacious headache. “Yeah. Okay. I think. Damn. Take your pill, and I’ll wrap you up.”

  “You ought to take something for your head.” Okay, when did they go all June Cleaver? But he dutifully took his pill, deciding he’d trust the confusion factor to keep MJ from running off while he slept. Or maybe the concern factor.

  MJ shrugged him off, got him up and moving to the bedroom, where they ended up sitting hard. MJ looked a little like he’d been whacked in the back of the head with a hammer.

  Sonny sorta… flopped back on the bed, groaning. He held out his hand. “Come on, Precious. Get some sleep. I promise I won’t molest you. Or even puke on you. I’m too fucking tired and hurtin’.”

  “Won’t matter if I beat you now or later.” MJ slid in beside him, groaning low. “Good mattress.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” He was already drifting, eyes heavy, as he rolled and snuggled right up to MJ’s side, humming happily at the scent of sun and sand and man. “We can rest up, fight on it later.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Walked for fucking ever. Tired.” MJ stretched, sighed soft. “Shouldn’t be, much as you drugged my ass.”

  “It wears you out….” The pill was kicking in, making him swirly. He put one hand low on MJ’s belly, letting it anchor him. “You have to make breakfast, since I made supper.”

  “Shut up, Sunshine.” MJ pinched him once, right on the hip. “There’s bananas in there. I saw them.”

  “Yeah. And those are real bananas.”

  At least that’s what the little guy at the market had said. Sonny grinned as he got settled and let it all go.

  See?

  Vacation was already making MJ easier to deal with. Just think what a week at the beach might do.

  Chapter Six

  MMM.

  Man, he loved the smell of sea and salt and sand and shit. MJ hummed, rubbing nice and easy, images of pretty lips, nice strong hands, and tight asses passing right through his head.

  Skin was nice too.

  And eyes. He liked eyes. Of course, the thought of fucking somebody without eyes was gross beyond all reason.

  Blind, yes. Eyeless, no.

  He groaned, shook his head a little. Come on, dude. Masturbation, not nightmares. Sexy boys with hungry mouths and pretty asses and completely and utterly intact eyes.

  Something hard and warm shifted against him, and yeah, that was more like it. The ass he needed to think about felt just like that. Hot, firm, rubbing back against him.

  There. Right like that. Uhn. He pushed a touch harder, liking how the tip of his prick rubbed that soft, hot skin. A deep moan answered him, his fantasy man just loving it, slipping and sliding against him, thighs opening so he could press between.

  Oh yeah. That was…. Uh-huh. He cuddled right in, entire body into it, rocking and shifting and sliding, hands wrapped around sweet fucking hips.

  “Mmm.” That was a growl, not a moan or a groan, but a happy one. His cock rubbed against a heavy pair of balls, short hairs sliding against him.

  “Yeah. Fucking hot….” The sound of his own voice was enough to startle him, his eyes flying open as the whole “not a dream, moron” thing hit him. “Shit. Shit.”

  “Hmm?” Someone’s hand landed on his hip when he would’ve pulled away. Big, square, reaching back… Sonny’s hand.

  “I was sleeping.” His hips, apparently, were still dreaming, because they were moving like everything was cool.

  “Uh-huh. So was I.” That morning voice was rough as sandpaper. Wiggling, Sonny rolled on his back, sorta breaking the contact, sorta making a new one. A very intimate new one as that big hand settled around the base of MJ’s cock. “Morning.”

  “Uh-huh.” This was a really, really bad idea. Really.

  Honestly.

  Oh fuck him, it felt good.

  “You’re awake.” Sonny punctuated that by dragging his thumb up the underside of MJ’s cock. “Right?”

  His spine arched, drawn by that touch. “Uh-huh. Awake. You?”

  Terrible idea.

  “Hoo yeah. Definitely, now.” Thumb and fingers met again, Sonny giving him a few good tugs, some damned fine friction.

  “Cool.” His hand found Sonny’s balls, tugging and rolling a little.

  Sonny grunted, spreading for him like a two-dollar whore, pushing right up into his touch. All the while Sonny’s hand never slowed down, just got him going in a nice rhythm, up and down.

  This was stupid. Really stupid.

  The man was insane.

  A kidnapper.r />
  “Oh fuck. Right there.”

  Okay, he could maybe worry about it in a few minutes.

  “Yeah? There?” Pressing just under the head of his cock, Sonny hummed, humping MJ’s hand in return. “Yeah, yeah.”

  MJ nodded, both of them working it. Hell, it had been fucking days. Weeks. Too fucking long. “Shit. Don’t stop.”

  “Not gonna. Not….” Sonny didn’t stop. Nope. He rolled closer, fucking that hand like there was no tomorrow, arm really swinging as Sonny’s hand worked him. Fuck, it was hot.

  They panted and grunted, getting all slick and sweaty as they pushed and pulled. MJ’s eyes were rolling, balls tight and drawn up, his entire body working for it. Sonny worked just as hard, that wide chest heaving as the man panted for breath, that thick cock throbbing in his hand. Sonny gave it up first, coming hard, spunk filling MJ’s hand as Sonny squeezed down on his prick, pulling, demanding.

  He arched, hips jerking gracelessly as his whole fucking universe became his cock, his balls, and his orgasm.

  They just lay there for a bit, until their breathing went back to normal. Then Sonny let go of him, fingers sliding away, surprisingly gentle. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” MJ blinked, blinked again. “Morning.”

  He’d lost his mind.

  Sonny blinked back, dark eyes sort of stunned. The man had the heaviest morning whiskers MJ had ever seen. “Want breakfast?”

  “Yeah.” He was starving. Starving. Pancakes. Sausage. Bacon.

  Oh man. Bacon.

  His stomach started trying to claw its way out again. Stupid thing.

  “Growly.” Sonny’s eyes started to twinkle. “All we have is bananas. If you promise to stay put, I’ll run down to the corner store place and get us some shit.”

  He snorted. “You won’t run anywhere on that ankle. Didn’t you get a car to use?”

  “Yeah, but you try to drive on these streets. I just used it to get us here from the airport, which was… well. So, does that mean you’re buying?”

  “Yeah. You lost all that cash from the exploding meth lab, after all.” He fought the chuckle. He was easily fucking amused.