by BA Tortuga
“Incompetent? Me? Hey! What are you doing? If you want speed, you can just make some.” MJ yanked him away from the bag with a sharp tug.
“I don’t make drugs!” He whirled and popped MJ one, right on the jaw, feeling grumpy and left out and still fucking hungry and horny. MJ’s head slammed back, and then MJ toppled, smacking to the deck with a crack. He had a moment of savage satisfaction before he plopped down to check MJ’s skull for a fracture or whatever.
MJ’s eyes popped open as he got down, one hand grabbing his throat. “You sorry motherfucker.”
“Urk.” Sonny’s breath rattled for the full five seconds it took him to pop the heel of his hand against MJ’s sternum, giving the little fuck his own breathing problems. MJ grunted, and then one hard fist connected with his belly, hard enough to lift him off the deck of the boat. Sonny rolled back, clutching his gut. Fucker. Fucking goddamned fucker. He’d bet he knew what MJ sneezed away. It always made him grumpy as hell.
MJ stumbled across the deck, heaving, head held low. Shit. So much for hungry and horny. Groaning, Sonny got to his hands and knees, heading over to help MJ out, hold his head as he ralphed over the rail.
“Shit.” MJ swayed, breathing hard. “We were doing fine ’til we stopped.”
“Sorry. Sorry, babe.” He was too. Dammit. Sonny sighed. He didn’t think he’d be getting any until they had a nap.
“Uh-huh.” MJ nodded, heading toward the stairs. “Gonna wash out my mouth.”
“Okay. Wanna lie down then? Want a beer or some morphine?”
“I’m thinking we could use a shot.” MJ waited on him to catch up, then twined their fingers together, squeezed. God, he loved the way MJ got with the forgiving.
“Yeah. I think that’s a fine idea.” It would help MJ down, and it would ease the fucking adrenaline in his own system. “What kind, Precious?”
“Tequila. Salt. Lime.” MJ washed his mouth out, spitting into the sink.
“Hoo yeah.” He set them up, cut a lime into wedges, set out the bottle and the salt. One thing about his Precious, the man didn’t hold a grudge, didn’t fucking pout. Hell, MJ even brought over chips and a thing of dip from the little fridge. He grinned and got some beers to chase with, and they had the breakfast of champions. “Looks good, MJ.”
“Yeah.” MJ settled, jaw starting to bruise so pretty above that scar.
Sonny figured he had bruises of his own, on his belly and his throat. It kinda made him grin. Just like old times. “Bottoms up.”
“You know it.” MJ knocked one back, throat working as he shuddered. “Woo.”
“Hoo yeah.” That hit the fucking spot. Sonny poured them one more, the heat in his belly too good not to indulge.
MJ nodded and leaned, leg against his, just rubbing, the bounces reduced to a periodic jiggle. Sonny petted that leg, stroking lightly with his fingers, the golden hairs catching, showing off all that amazing black ink. MJ took the shot, blinking a couple of times before those pretty thighs just spread. That was the ticket. Sonny let his fingers wander over and around, tickling the inside of MJ’s leg. MJ chuckled, the sound husky and deep, hips shifting on the cushions. Hell yeah. Just like that.
“You like that, huh?” He knew MJ did, but the talking was half the fun. Sonny squeezed, his fingers leaving marks.
“Mm-hmm.” MJ rolled toward him, lips hot on his throat, making the bruises burn. “More, Sunshine.”
“Where more, Precious? Here?” He slid down to touch the back of MJ’s knee. “Or here?” He worked back up to the crease of thigh and torso.
“Uh-huh.” MJ started moving, tongue slip-sliding on his skin. Oh, now. This was way nicer than grumpy. They shifted a bit, Sonny oozing over between MJ’s legs, both hands working that fine skin now, his lips sliding down MJ’s shoulder. “Mmm. Smell good.” MJ groaned and wrapped around him. “This makeup sex?”
“Nah. This is my lost wake-up horny sex. We’ll do the makeup sex later.” MJ smelled damned good too. Hot and male, with a tang of tequila and lime.
“Oh. That works.” MJ’s hand slid down his back, nails scratching a little, making his skin sing.
“Yeah.” He kissed along MJ’s collarbone, his hands sliding down, cupping MJ’s cock. “Yeah, I think it’ll work. And before it, there might be a postsex nap, followed by prelunch sex.”
“Mm-hmm. Then food and beer and maybe a soak in the sun with oil.” MJ spread wider, moaning some. “Then the makeup sex.”
“You got it.” Sweet. Suck? Fuck? Hmm. Sonny pushed MJ back a little to get that distracting mouth off him. He looked MJ over, up and down, hands still working that sweet cock. Suck. Definitely. He could fuck during the makeup sex.
Sonny dropped lower, the decking cold under his knees, and licked at MJ’s belly, which was quite possibly his favorite part. Maybe. Kinda. MJ made this amazing fucking rumbly-assed noise—sort of part new lawnmower, part bad porn, part NASCAR from a distance—and arched right up into him. There was nothing like growly. Nope, not a damned thing. Well, except the taste of MJ’s cock as Sonny’s lips slid down over it, tongue working the head.
“Sunshine!” MJ’s hands landed on his head, not holding yet, just making sweet fucking promises.
“Mm-hmm.” He loved that fucking surprised sound. It came every time he did this, like MJ just didn’t expect it. Sonny sucked harder, loving on MJ so good. MJ humped up, cock pushing right on in, fucking his lips and letting him taste each bitter, salty drop that slid over his tongue. Sonny closed his eyes and pulled harder with his lips, letting the taste and feel of hot flesh overtake him. So good. MJ always tasted so fucking good.
“Would fucking sell my soul for your mouth, man.”
He chuckled. MJ didn’t know it, but he already had. That ass was his, lock, stock, and barrel. He ran his tongue along the underside of MJ’s cock, rubbing along the big vein.
MJ’s fingers tightened, pushing into his scalp a little, those pretty fucking thighs hard as stone under his hand. Grasping them, Sonny got more leverage, really turning on the damned Hoover. He wanted MJ to come like a freight train. Just to make up for popping him. And hey, you never knew if you could get high doing this….
Heat poured into his mouth, MJ just losing it, going all incoherent and wild and shit underneath him.
Sonny took it all in, sucked the guy down like there was no tomorrow. Then he took a kiss, surging up to share MJ’s flavor with him. Sonny figured his cock might explode. Lucky for him, MJ’s fingers wrapped right around and started tugging, helping him out straight off, not making him ask for it even a little.
Thank God. Sonny humped that hand, his muscles tight as anything, his back arching impossibly. MJ sucked his tongue, teeth and lips working him above while those fingers worked him below. It took maybe a minute. Maybe a minute and a half. Then Sonny came, his hips going crazy as spunk spilled out of him.
“Mmm. Pretty, pretty.” MJ sounded too fucking satisfied for his own good.
“Uh-huh. You do good, Precious.” Sonny couldn’t even get pissed at the man for being an ass. He felt too good. Well, all but where MJ had hit him. Then even that only mattered a little as MJ kissed him good and hard, sorta scattered him all around.
Looked like they were working their way toward the makeup sex before lunch.
Which suited him right down to the ground.
Chapter Two
FUCK, HE was itching for a fight. They’d gone to some damned titty bar, Sonny hooting and carrying on like a fucking asshole, getting chicks to rub their boobs and play ride-the-horsey. Asshole. He knew Sonny didn’t want the broads. Hell, MJ knew Sonny just liked pissing him off.
That was why he was pissed.
Mostly.
Really.
Dammit.
MJ’d stormed out about half an hour ago, heading straight for the boat. Well, maybe not straight, because, hello! Tequila. Liquor store.
The fact that Sonny hadn’t come right after him… oh yeah, pissing him off even more. So when Sonny hopped over
the rail and came up, planted his feet, hands on his hips, MJ just wanted to nail him in the nuts.
Especially when Sonny said, “What crawled up your ass and died, Precious?”
“Don’t make me beat you to death, Sunshine. I have a mostly full bottle here. It would leave a mark.” Maybe even a dent.
Sonny reached down and snagged the bottle, his bottle, and took a long swig. “Ugh. That stuff is poison.”
“Excuse me?” He blinked over. “You make lighter fluid that makes people hallucinate. This is 1800 Cuervo.”
“Well, at least you remember it’s not meth, huh?” Oh, poke, poke, poke. Bastard.
“I remember you claim you weren’t cooking up meth. I never really saw. Fog, you know?”
“Uh-huh. More like the ringing in your ears from where I beat you down.” That grin was enough to make his fingers twitch.
“You still have that scar on your thumb, Sunshine? From where the cuffed guy cut you?”
“You know I do, Precious. You feel it on your skin every night. You still have that scar from where you took a bullet for me?”
MJ reached up, stroked his face even as he arched an eyebrow. “You still have the one you took for me?”
“You fuckin’ know it, Precious. I’m your motherfucking hero.” Sonny took another belt of his tequila, swaying with the motion of the boat.
“Thought it was poison.” That was his tequila. His motherfucking hero. Goddamn.
“It gets better with each sip. Kinda like you.”
His cock throbbed, and he stood, got right up into Sonny’s space, and grabbed his bottle back.
“Hey! I was drinking that. Might as well get something out of the night, as you didn’t give me any love at the strip club.”
One big hand closed over his, yanking at the bottle.
“You were getting plenty of love from Titarama and SuperPussy.” Fuck, Sonny was strong.
“Oh, fuck you, Precious. I was just playing. Shit, I was showing you off, showing them what they couldn’t have.”
He wasn’t sure whether to believe it, but Sonny got right in his face, teeth bared.
“Possessive bastard.” MJ pushed right back, his chest slamming against Sonny’s. Beautiful motherfucker.
Sonny pulled, sending the bottle flying over the starboard rail. MJ heard it splash just before Sonny took him down, one leg hooking behind his, his whole world reeling.
“Fuck!” He dug in, fingers squeezing Sonny tight as they landed with a thud.
“Uhnph.” They rolled, Sonny ending up on the bottom, struggling against him.
He got hold of Sonny’s arms, got them pressed onto the deck. “Got you.”
“Do you?” Those hips bucked under him, Sonny’s long legs scrabbling, hard cock poking at his hip through thin linen pants.
“Yes….” Goddammit. He arched, fighting for leverage. This was like some weird-assed seesaw thing, but with tequila and sex.
“Well, come on, then, Precious. Do your worst.” Oh, that look. Those eyes lit right up, Sonny rearing up to bite him.
“Fuck!” He slammed down with his hips, grinding them together, fingers fighting to keep hold of Sonny’s wrists.
“Uh-huh. Yeah, you got me. Sure.” Goading him and pushing him, that was what Sonny was doing. Constantly.
“Fucker. Drive me batshit crazy.” The man was under his skin, sunk into him.
Oh.
Sunk into him.
Fuck.
“I only do it because I care.” Laughing, Sonny ground against him, starting to pant. “Want you.”
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.” He nodded, leaned to bite Sonny’s throat. “Yes.”
Sonny tilted back, offering that long throat, just grunting under him. Those hands twisted under his, pushing. Pushy. Redneck. Formerly meth-producing. Insane. Fucker.
MJ fucking adored him.
He bit hard, loving the feel of Sonny between his teeth, under him.
“Harder, MJ. God, harder.” Hips rocking, Sonny hummed, all that muscle standing out in Sonny’s arms, tendons hard in his neck.
“Yes. Mine. Do you hear me? You’re mine.” He bit again, making another mark, making Sonny groan.
“I got it. I do.” Finally breaking his hold, Sonny reached down to grab his ass, pulling him down hard. “Come on. Come on.”
That was all he needed, that little extra squeeze. MJ started humping furiously, driving them together. One of Sonny’s long-assed legs wrapped around his, hauling them together even harder, holding on for dear life.
Everything in him went tight as he shot, teeth on Sonny’s shoulder.
“Shit!” Sonny bucked under him, the scent and heat of Sonny’s come heady as Sonny shot too, hands bruising his skin.
“Yeah.” They slumped together on the deck, the boat still rocking a little.
“See? This is what you get for ignoring me, Precious. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been thinking on planning a gig,” Sonny said, popping his ass. “You don’t type so fucking much on that damned computer if you’re not IMing your handler.”
Goddamn. He didn’t deny it; the money was too good, the job close enough to be easy, hard enough to be a challenge.
“No fouling our nest, MJ.” Like the man could read his fucking mind.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sonny. I just… it’s a huge take.” He could almost taste it. “Too big to turn away from, and they know it.”
“So what’s the catch?” The pinching and smacking had turned to stroking, Sonny pushing at MJ’s pants.
“They want it to happen inside a military base.” He nudged Sonny’s jaw, tasting and licking, the little hairs tickling his tongue.
“Oh, fuck that. Not gonna happen. We’ll sail away.”
Okay, this he could tell Sonny meant, the way every muscle went tight under him.
“Yeah?” The part of him that wasn’t all pro might have—might have—rejoiced a little.
“Yeah. You know those military types are crazier than anything, right?” Soft lips moved across his cheek, bruised and swollen.
“Crazier than meth-cooking rednecks?” He hummed, relaxed down to his bones.
“Uh-huh. Crazier than bomb-happy ecoterrorists.”
“That’s pretty fucking crazy, Sunshine.”
“You know it, Precious. So let’s not and say we did. ’Kay? There will be other jobs.”
“Okay.” When did that get to be easy? Shit. He was getting old. Or settled. Or something.
Sonny nipped at his collarbone, making his nipples draw up, his spent cock giving a happy twitch. Maybe these days he just had something else to occupy his time. Something almost as good as setting off bombs.
Or maybe even better.
Chapter Three
“SUNSHINE, HOW far are we from the Keys?”
“Uh….” The hammock Sonny lay in stopped swinging, and one wet finger popped up to test the air—and what the hell did that mean, anyway? “Half a day, maybe? Maybe a full day’s sail. Why?”
“I got an email.” And, hell, the money didn’t suck entirely. Not for the chance to steal a hard drive and blow the living shit out of a huge fucking research facility. The challenge rocked—blow up the place without causing mass chaos or leaking anything heavy-duty into the water table, while making it look like a gigantic accident. Too fun.
“Yeah?” The hammock started swinging again. Sonny usually talked him out of the not-so-good money. Lazy bastard.
“Uh-huh. California. Facility that makes weapons for the military. Three-quarters of a mil plus expenses.”
“Huh.” One foot hit the deck, so he could tell Sonny was interested, even if that silly, scruffy head never came up above the ropes.
“Yeah. We get to the Keys tomorrow. Dock. Be in Santa Barbara in four days. Work out a blueprint, grab a hard drive. Blow the joint. Be back out here before two weeks is up.”
“We’d get there sooner, you’d let us fly.”
Oh. Asshole. He could hear Sonny laughing at him. He shuddered, shook
his head. “No planes. No trains.” Besides, Harry knew he didn’t fly.
“But it’s so much faster, Precious. I mean, I don’t get why you think a car is so much better.” That did get him a look, Sonny’s dark eyes peering over at him.
“I can get out of a car.” He just couldn’t do it. No closed spaces. None. He stuck his tongue out at Sonny, rolled his eyes. “So, you wanna come with me?”
“Are you kidding? I ain’t letting you go by yourself. You’d just get arrested or kidnapped or something.” That was a serious thought; he could tell. Sonny actually got up and stretched.
“It’s a lot easier for you to rescue my ass if you’re close.” Mmm. Pretty. He typed out a quick confirmation and waited for the details to download. He would need det cord, detonators, timers. Hmm. He’d be in the car long enough to make his own. MJ grabbed a piece of paper and started scribbling.
“Mm-hmm. A lot easier to fuck it too.” Damn, but Sonny looked good naked in the sun. The man might be lazy, but he worked out like a fiend, kept those muscles cut and heavy.
“We got some time before we hit land, you know.” He could start licking at the bottom and just work his way up. He put his pencil down.
“We do.” Oh, that prick woke up for him, just like that. Like on command and shit.
Impressive.
The file downloaded, and he logged off, clicked the laptop shut, and went to find him something much more fun. “You have something in mind?”
Mmm. Sonny smelled good.
“Oh, let me see.” Sonny grabbed him when he got close enough, pulling him right up against all that bare skin. “I bet I can think of something, Precious. I’m good that way.”
“Mm-hmm.” He bent his head and started licking and lapping, tongue dragging along one fine shoulder.
“Oh, now see? I didn’t have to even suggest anything.” Sonny kissed his throat, his chin, his cheekbone, hot, damp little touches.
“I was improvising until you came up with something.”
“It’s nice,” Sonny said, squeezing his ass. “Keep on. You’re good at that spur-of-the-moment thing.”
