by BA Tortuga
Chapter Twelve
MJ STARED at his toes, which were propped on the dashboard. Man, they were hairy. Not like terrifying-old-man hairy or anything, but there were curly blond hairs all over them. Better than Sonny’s toes, of course; his toe hair was sun-bleached. Still….
“I have to buy shoes when we get closer. Real shoes.”
Sonny glanced over, eyes hidden by sunglasses but a smile on his face. “Been too long since we worked, huh?”
“Yeah. I hate real shoes.” He stretched, wiggling his toes. “I like the way boots make your butt look, though.”
Shooting people in sandals was tricky. Blood between the toes and shit. Bad. Besides, with the kaboom came shrapnel.
Man, that was almost deep.
“Why, thank you, Precious. I do like the way your ass looks in nothing.” Sonny’s right hand drifted over to touch his leg.
Man, listen to them, having a pleasant conversation in the car and nobody even had a gun. Their relationship must be maturing.
“Yours is nice bare, but I like the jeans thing too. Your chest, though? You should always be shirtless.” Well, unless they were working. Then all that chest hair would get singed.
“Yeah? You just like my fuzz.” They laughed about that all the time, that Sonny wasn’t exactly smooth as a baby’s butt like in all the gay rags.
“You know it, redneck. Just like you like to see all my….” Tats. Huh.
Tats.
“When the job’s done, we should go get ink.”
The car jerked before Sonny swerved back into his lane. “We should, Precious. We surely should.”
“Yeah.” MJ grinned, humming under his breath along with Don Henley. “Something ours. I still have room left.”
Of course, he imagined they would need to go with the no-fucking tattoo artist….
Sonny was all growly and possessive that way. Hell, he might be these days himself. But he could see Sonny wearing a mark that spoke of him. Of them together….
“Mmm.” MJ wiggled, ass sliding on the seat, cock perking up. Something ringing one ankle, maybe, or their biceps. Something spiky and black on that tanned skin.
Uhn.
“Mmm. You thinking good thoughts, Precious?” The hand on his thigh slid some, Sonny’s pinky touching his cock, trapped under his zipper. “I know I am.”
“Uh-huh. Thinking about black ink on your skin, licking it.”
“Oh, I like the idea of that. Yes, indeed.” He could tell how much Sonny liked it, because they speeded up, that hand kneading him like crazy.
His knees spread, letting Sonny touch more. “Mm-hmm. It’s hot, the sting, the burn. Fucking amazing.”
“It’ll be hot watching you. And watching you watching me.” Convoluted as that was, he got it. Sonny could watch him all damned day, get off on him moving, sleeping, or swimming.
“You’ll have to go first so I can focus.” Maybe he ought to learn to do it himself. Or. “You ought to learn how. I’ve seen you doodle.”
He could see that eyebrow climb over Sonny’s glasses. “You’d let me put a needle to your skin, Precious? After telling me if I ever got near you with one again, you’d eat my balls for breakfast with eggs?”
“I don’t think you can drug somebody with a tattoo gun….” Could you? Shit. He needed a cellular modem for moments like this. If anyone could, it would be Sonny. That man had a positive knack for poison and morphine and shit.
Sonny grinned again, those teeth flashing in the sun. “Well, if you trust me to try, I can hook up in Miami with someone who can give me a lesson. Or I could just draw up the design, and we could get someone else.”
MJ thought about it some, and what he found maybe wigged him out some. “You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t know it would be good. I’d trust you.”
Sonny squeezed him, maybe a little too hard. Or maybe just hard enough. That voice came out as pure growl. “I’ll do it, then. Fuck, Precious….”
“Uh-huh.” He groaned and worked his jeans open enough for his poor cock to breathe.
“MJ!” Sonny didn’t sound shocked. Hell no. He sounded hungry, those fingers dancing over his cock as they almost ran up the back end of a semi. Sonny backed off, though, never letting his attention stray fully from the road.
“Uh-huh. You kill me, making me want so bad, Sunshine.” Making him need.
“I…. Damn. We need to stop. I need to…. Fuck.” They were just dangerous, trapped in the car for long periods of time. Sooner or later the natives got restless. If they stopped to fuck, he could get shoes.
“We need to fuck. And have bacon and possibly a beer.” And a shower, and maybe a blowjob after a nap. They had time.
“We do. Time to stop.” He could see Sonny watching the road signs and knew they were about to hit an off-ramp when Sonny took his hand back, both hands on the wheel. They found a truck stop right off, Sonny pulling in back where no one would see.
He launched himself across the seat as soon as the ignition got turned off. He needed. Now. Sonny clashed right with him, one arm sliding around him, the other hand reaching down to cup his cock, rubbing up and down. He grunted, humping like a dog, lips crashing down onto Sonny’s. Fuck, no one’d ever been like this.
Never.
Digging in, Sonny pushed at him, thumb pressing his slit, tongue sliding right into his mouth. God, yeah. Yeah. The man knew his hot spots now, worked them ruthlessly. His teeth scraped Sonny’s tongue, hands holding that mouth right where he wanted it so that he could. Yeah. Uhn. Right there.
Sonny bit down on his lip as they pulled apart, then dove in again with hardly a breath between, licking at his skin where it had split. He groaned, eyes rolling as he just rode it, ass whacking the steering wheel over and over. Man, that was gonna leave a bruise.
There, that was what he should get tattooed. A steering wheel-shaped bruise. He stopped chuckling over that when Sonny grabbed his balls, squeezing, letting him really feel it.
“Uhn. Fuck.” His head rolled on his shoulders like dice on a table.
“That’s it, Precious. Come on. Come on. Can see you just like this when I tattoo you, you know? See you trying to hold still for me and you just can’t.” Sonny was fucking relentless, man.
He shot hard, hips moving even after his cock stopped jerking, all caught up in the tug and burn and heat.
“Good. Good, MJ. Fuck yeah. Want you to….” Sonny pushed him back a little into his own seat, those big hands scrabbling at Sonny’s own jeans, yanking them open.
“Yeah. Yeah, gimme.” He scooted and bent down, lips dropping over that cock as soon as Sonny pulled it free. His. Fuck yes. His.
“MJ. Jesus fuck.” Sonny pressed right up between his lips, cock hot and salty and good, wet as hell. There was no gentle lead-in there; Sonny just fucked MJ’s face like he meant it. He rolled those sweet, heavy balls, pushing through the denim. His head bobbed, throat relaxing as he let Sonny all the way in, in deep.
“Uhn. More. I just. Now.” He could feel how close Sonny was, how the man just teetered on the edge for him.
He wrapped his lips around the base of Sonny’s prick and sucked for all he was worth. Come on. Give it up, now. Oh yeah, he got it. Sonny shot like a ton of bricks, hips snapping. Harsh moans sounded, and Sonny’s fingers tangled right up in his hair, holding him there just a moment before pulling him up to kiss him until his ears rang.
They panted together, grinning into the kiss. “Better.”
“You know it. We should look for shoes.” Sonny nuzzled his throat, always a little warm and fuzzy after he came. “And I need a sketchbook.”
“Yeah.” MJ took a second to just touch Sonny. Yeah. He would do that.
Wear Sonny’s ink.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
“SO HOW’S it going with your new shadow?” Bethy’s voice, always so weird and rough and all, startled him badly, the vial of ionized water crashing to the ground.
“Shit! Bethy! Don’t do that!” Paddy frowned and rolled h
is eyes. Good thing it hadn’t been important.
Or expensive.
Or explosive.
“Don’t do what? Stomp into my own lab after saying ‘Rick, Rick, Rick!’ over and over?” She snorted, pushed her wiry-assed, kinky-curly hair over her shoulder. “Is he okay?”
“Neil? Yeah. Yeah, he’s great. He’s gone to… uh… do something.” He’d forgotten what, exactly. Nap. Eat. Find food. Walk. He’d been busy.
“That’s good, I guess. So? How long does he say he’s staying?” Oh man. She sat down. He hated when she sat down. That meant she was planted.
“Until he’s done, I guess?” Paddy didn’t want to think about that. Not at all. He was…. He was maybe more than a little seriously fucked where Neil was concerned.
“Ah, if it isn’t the manager. Hello, Bethany.” Neil came in bearing a tray from the commissary, and it smelled good. Oh, food. They’d kinda… played through breakfast.
Well, he’d offered to share his emergency Pop-Tarts with Neil, but Neil had given him this wide-eyed look of something that was either terror or disgust, and he’d put them back in the drawer with the can of 1987 Jolt Cola, the Slinky that said “My DM is a better roller than your DM,” and a package that either held some old intern’s retainer, a Beatles cassette, or the corpse of a giant hissing cockroach.
He couldn’t remember, and he was sort of scared to look.
“Hey there, Neil. Keeping busy?” Bethy gave Neil a look that sort of made Paddy growly, which was weird because, well, Neil didn’t go for middle-aged women with gaps between their front teeth and a serious thing for double knit.
Still.
“I am, yes. I take it you are too?” Neil passed by, giving him a look meant just for him, one that made him tingle.
“You know I don’t work. I just harass the boys and make sure no one blows up the building.” Right, like Bethy wasn’t one of them. She was just one of them with a better salary these days.
“Which must be a full-time job, indeed. I think we have everything under control here.” The strangest look passed between Neil and Bethy, this one making Paddy go hmm instead of grrr.
“Of course you do. Come see me in my office at some point, yeah, Rick? We’ve got to discuss progress.”
Progress.
Oookay.
God, things were odd around here these days.
“Sure, Bethy. Lunchtime!” He kicked the broken glass out of Neil’s way.
“Yes, lunchtime.” Grinning, Neil took Bethy’s arm and hustled her to the door. “So nice of you to drop by.”
Man, Neil was really, really good at that. Paddy was impressed.
The door closed, and Neil even locked it. Wow. Okay. “What’s for lunch?”
“Oh, I brought a variety, love. I thought you might be hungry.”
Dude. There were sandwiches and some kind of salad and a latte and some Cokes and… wow.
“Yum.” He looked at the window and then took a good, hard kiss. “Thank you.”
“Mmm. Yes, that’s a lovely thank-you.” Neil smiled and kissed him back, then went to get a cup of hot water and a tea bag.
He grabbed half a sandwich. Ooh. Tuna fish. Yum. “So do you report to Bethy? Or do you have another boss?”
“You could say Bethany and I are on the same level,” Neil said, taking what he would call a biscuit and dunking it in his tea. Privately, Paddy thought they were all cookies.
“Oh.” Thinking about Neil’s job, and him and Bethy, and the whole thing, led to more thoughts about Neil leaving, and someone thinking he was crazy, and…. Yeah. Okay. More food.
“You’re hardly crazy. But I won’t tell Bethy that just yet, hmmm?” Oh, that was. Yeah. Okay. Neil picked up… some kind of lettuce thing, crunching away. “Do you ever see what your experiments actually apply to, love?”
“I’m not sure they really have real-world applications. I mean, I made a thing once that could go from frozen to boiling on command, and I thought it could be useful, but the prototype poofed, and I got moved in here to play with other things.” They weren’t anything but research people. The guys to make the stockholders happy.
“Ah. Well, at least you enjoy your work. It’s not frustrating to make things that never get used?” That stare kinda looked like the one Neil had given Bethy.
“My apartment is full of boxes of things that never get used.” He built things that didn’t have uses. He just made them to make them.
“You are one of a kind, love.” Neil ambled over and gave him a kiss that tasted like citrus and sugar.
The kiss made the uncomfortable worry poof, just like that. He was good. Neil was good. It was all okay.
“It is indeed,” Neil said as they parted, pressing one more touch to his mouth. “Very good. Do you want that apple tart?”
Man, Neil had a sweet tooth.
“No. Go ahead.” He wasn’t sure apple and tuna went together.
Apple.
Fish.
Fish.
Apple.
No.
No, no, no.
Inhaling the tart, Neil hummed, looking kinda like he did when they had sex. Like all rapturous. He’d had the apple tarts from the commissary before. They weren’t that good.
Now the tarts at Amy’s Pies? They were like Christmas. Or chocolate. Or warm sheets from the dryer, but with apples.
“I should think that would be sticky….” Of course Neil looked like he might like the sticky.
“It would stain.” He’d like to taste that, though. Neil’s skin and apple. Or peach. Oooh. Raspberries.
“No, raspberries leave seeds in inconvenient places.”
Well, he’d never thought of that. Hmm. He bet if he got raspberry jam heated up, he could strain it and then cool it off, and then it would be like paint. Oh, he could just see that. A little drop of sweet on the tip of Neil’s….
Oh. Man.
Work.
He was at work.
A soft moan brought his attention back to Neil, who stared at him like he was dessert. “Oh. Love. Yes.”
Paddy nodded. It would be. Because salt and sweet and, oh, Neil in his mouth. “Want you.”
“Yes. We could. Where could we…?” He could see Neil shifting, see the way that lean body shuddered for him.
“My office.” There was a door. A lock. There was even the ugly green sofa.
“Now, love. Now.” Right behind him, herding him, Neil moved him along, heading right for his office. Those hands stroked his back, his ass, really giving him reason to hurry. They didn’t even turn on the light. Paddy just turned as Neil locked the door, dropping to his knees as he reached for Neil’s fly. Neil helped him, popping the button while he got the zipper. All he had to do was get Neil’s pants and underwear down and that thick cock was right there in front of his face, in his hands.
Oh.
Oh, Neil smelled good. Paddy inhaled, the sound loud. Then he opened up and let his tongue slide over the tip of Neil’s prick. Yes.
“Sweet. Oh. I….” Cock sliding in and out of his mouth, Neil stroked his hair, his cheeks, encouraging him. Talking to him.
If he had any free brain cells, Paddy was sure he’d be thinking about how he’d never really gotten off on sucking, and he hadn’t really enjoyed it, and how weird it was that he’d almost creamed his jeans just thinking about this. He didn’t have any brain cells that weren’t incredibly busy going “Uhn, Neil,” fortunately, but if he had, he’d’ve worried. Neil really enjoyed it, though; he could tell. The way Neil’s hips rolled and the muscles in those thighs bunched, yeah, that told Paddy all he needed to know.
Paddy slid his hands up along Neil’s thighs, ending with his thumbs rubbing those soft, heavy balls. The rubbing made the scent of Neil stronger, made his head swim. Mmm. They should make Neil perfume or incense or something.
Potpourri.
Man, chuckling during a blowjob?
Challenging.
His head started bobbing, mouth working hard as his finge
rs stroked those heavy balls, dragging them down into the bottom of the velvet-soft sac and rolling them, just enough to make things ache and zing, to make Neil grunt and whimper.
Oh hell yes.
Paddy closed his eyes and just felt, loving the way the heavy vein on Neil’s shaft throbbed against his tongue, the way the tip dragged and left salty kisses. He sucked harder as Neil shuddered, stretching as Neil arched. “Sweet. Love, please.”
Yes. Yes, love. Please. Paddy groaned and took Neil down to the root, nose buried in the soft gold curls, throat closing around the tip of Neil’s cock. Bitter and salt poured down his throat, so good. Rich. Neil.
He dropped his hand to the front of his slacks, tugging at the zipper, trying desperately to get them off, get his cock out. Slipping free, Neil knelt in front of him, kissing him hard, kissing the panicky-need feeling right out of his brain.
Much better. Much. He moaned into the kisses as he sucked on Neil’s tongue.
Neil’s hands cupped his ass, pulling him up so they pressed together from knees to mouth. His own cock, trapped against his zipper, felt like it might just explode. He wanted. So much. So badly. Right now. He wanted Neil’s touch and flavors and pleasure and sounds and everything.
All of it.
Neil gave it to him, hand wrapping around him and touching him just like he needed, and damn, but it felt good. Fine. So….
“Yes, sweet. So fine. You have the loveliest skin.”
Neil’s voice was so fucking hot. He could come just from listening to the man read the phone book aloud.
Neil snorted a little, thumb working the tip of his cock. “A. Aaron Ablabab.”
“Ass.” Oh. Oh damn. There. Right there. Neil. Please.
“Yes, sweet. Yes.” Neil pushed harder, making it burn, making it ache, and Paddy bucked and shot, eyes just rolling with it.
“There. There. That’s better.” Yeah. Yeah, it was. So better. He nodded, licking and nuzzling at Neil’s jaw, sated and dazed and all fuzzy inside. “Come, love. Up on the sofa. I believe a nap is in order.”
Oh. Oh yes. His Neil had the loveliest ideas, even if Bethy was going to kill him.
