Road Trip, Volume 1

by BA Tortuga

  “Yeah?” The first round of bacon came out, started draining on paper towels. “Are they good bowls?”

  “They last a long time and come in obscene colors….” Lord, the things you remembered. He got the eggs whipped up and wandered back over. “Pour about half that off for me?”

  “Sure.” MJ grinned at him, pouring out a good bit of the grease. “You want the veggies in the eggs?”

  “Yeah. We’ll do like a scramble thing. They do them in restaurants.” He could do that. If Leon at the Waffle Hut could, he could.

  “Cool. I’ll hunt for cheese.” The chopped and mangled vegetables were handed over. Man, that could have been his fingers if he’d gotten in the way. Sonny shook his head, whistling a little as he started sautéing. Only MJ could make a kidnapping all normal and domestic.

  “The problem with letting them go is that we’ve been paid like they’re dead. I got a bonus and everything.” MJ pulled the muffins out. “That could be difficult for us.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone was unhappy with us.” Of course, MJ had his professional reputation to think about. “Then again, it might behoove them to kinda go into hiding.”

  “Given that I transferred three-quarters of a mil for the job and there’s another quarter waiting when the information from the mythical hard drive is delivered? It would behoove all of us.”

  “Too true.” Hey, the eggs and veggies looked much better cooked in bacon grease. Way to go Sonny! He grinned and slid half onto each plate MJ had gotten. “Muffins all toasty?”

  “Yep. Bacon’s all crispy. We’re good.” MJ plopped down at the table with bacon and bread.

  Sonny added the egg plates and sat, then grabbed a muffin. “Okay. So we just have to talk them into going off to Borneo. I can be persuasive, you know.”

  “I’ve noticed that about you. If they won’t listen to you, then I’ll start working on them.” Oh Lord. MJ’s method of “working” involved screaming and blood and the periodic kaboom.

  “Uh-huh. No torture. You like this one, remember?” His foot landed on MJ’s, and Sonny tickled with his toes.

  MJ laughed around a bite of eggs. “There’s always the blond.”

  “You’re obsessed, Precious. Besides, that Rick seems to think he’s important.” Hell, he’d probably say the same thing about MJ if someone had kidnapped and drugged them. Oh, wait. Someone had.

  “Yeah, maybe we can get some cash for him, if he’s someone special.”

  “So pragmatic. I could think of other uses for him….” It had been at least twenty minutes since he’d needled MJ. “Boomer.”

  Oh ho! Those eyes went hot just like that. “Don’t call me Boomer, asshole.”

  “Why not? It’s cute as hell. And very descriptive. It suits you, Precious. Oh, hey, do you want some juice?” Look at the flush on those fine tanned cheeks.

  “I. Am. Not. Cute.” Oh, man. That was adorable. He was going to get his ass kicked.

  “You are. You have this little dimple just below your lower lip that gets deeper when you get pissy.” He ought to know. He’d seen it. A lot.

  “I’m going to hurt you.” MJ’s lips twitched, though, didn’t they?

  Batting his eyelashes, Sonny wiggled, licking his fork. “Come and get me, Precious. I can’t wait.”

  “Like I’m going to miss the chance to have bacon….” Now that was damn near an insult….

  Torn between pouting and laughing, Sonny grabbed another piece of bacon and crunched. Not bad. “Good thing you’re not a tofu fan.”

  “I grew up on it. I gave it up a long time ago. They’re good eggs.” Ooh. High praise.

  “We’re a good team.” Sonny deliberately didn’t mention that one of his onions looked like a chopped-up voodoo doll. He sighed. “I really hate leaving shit dangling. But I just can’t see killing them.”

  “Well, we can’t keep ’em doped. We’ll kill them that way. You think we should head for the boat after we deliver the information?”

  “Well, that would get us away from anyone who might try to track us.” Yeah, and they could always lose the baggage at sea if need be.

  “If we’re careful about stopping, we should be good.” MJ’s toes tickled his ankle, teased his foot.

  “Mm-hmm.” Now that his belly was set, other things were growling. “They’ll both be out a bit, and we both ate onions.”

  “Lock them both in, I’ll start the download, and we’ll have more than a bit.” That was a pure hunger right there. A need.

  God, this man. He just made Sonny insane in the best possible way. “We can do that. You get naked again, Precious. Be waiting for me.”

  “Me. Lube. The bed. All we fucking need.” MJ half stood, kissed him hard enough his head spun.

  He staggered off to lock up the guests, his cock aching in his jeans. Jesus. Ninety to nothing, just boom. MJ always had him ready to go. The blond was calm, breathing easy, and Rick was curled up into a little ball, eyes moving like mad behind those closed lids. Sonny didn’t want to give him any more drugs, but man, that wasn’t restful. Couldn’t be. He left them a lantern, made sure they had water and shit. Hell, that basement was well-provisioned. Just in case, he looked around for anything that might be used as a weapon.

  He dragged the shovel, a hand axe, and a screwdriver upstairs and locked the basement door behind him. Then he headed back to the bedroom, where MJ was kneeling on the bed, naked as a jaybird.

  “Oh fuck, MJ. You’re enough to make a dead man rise.” Sonny tore at his jeans, needing to be there, skin to skin. Like, immediately.

  “I need you. Alive. Now, Sunshine.” MJ reached around, two fingers disappearing in that tight ass.

  Sonny moaned, his hips already starting to rock, even though he was nowhere near that ass. He couldn’t decide. Watch? Or fuck? Watch? Fuck? Oh God. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and pulled, trying to think.

  MJ looked back over one shoulder, fucking himself faster, harder. “That’s mine.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay. Good.” Babbling like the damned fool he was, Sonny staggered over to the bed and grabbed the lube. As soon as he was all slick he knocked MJ’s fingers away from that fine ass. “And this is mine,” he mumbled, shoving in hard.

  “Yes!” MJ’s head slammed back, ass squeezing his prick, muscles rippling around him.

  “Uhn. Precious… fucking needed this.” That ass squeezed down on him, his cock feeling like it was in the best kind of vise. Damn. Sonny started moving, his muscles straining, sweat just pouring off him. All that teasing, all that poking, it had just been foreplay.

  They kept moving, found a hard, sweet fucking rhythm, skin slapping together. MJ took it, begged for him with that hot fucking ass. Goddamn. To think he was the only one, the only man who’d done this. It still fucking amazed him so much. Moving harder, Sonny leaned and bit where MJ’s shoulder joined his neck, intending to draw blood.

  “Sonny. Sonny, I…. Uhn.” Right there. He was gonna get his ink there. His spot.

  Licking that little bit of skin, Sonny memorized the location, thrusting into MJ over and over. “God, Precious. You have any idea how fucking amazing you are? Jesus.”

  “Yours. All fucking yours. Oh. There. Right there. Again.” Demanding. Pushy. Needy. Just like him. Two of a goddamned kind. His hips smacked MJ’s ass, his hands landing on those narrow hips to pull back and forth. He needed more, deeper, harder. Now. MJ’s cries got louder, muscles jerking, gripping his cock like a fist. Reaching beneath them, Sonny grabbed MJ’s cock, stroking it hard and fast, needing to feel MJ come around him. Wanting it beyond anything. He heard something—could have been his name, could have been cussing or begging. It didn’t really fucking matter. All that mattered was the way MJ went stiff, the way that tanned body went tight and heat sprayed over his fingers.

  Sonny grunted, letting his head sag so he could rub his cheek against the bruise he’d left on MJ’s skin. Then he came like the proverbial load of bricks.

  MJ groaned, holding
him up, supporting them both. “That didn’t suck at all, Sunshine. Not. At. All.”

  “Nope. No sucking. Just a good hard fuck.” He chuckled, licking sweat off that sweet skin.

  “Mm-hmm. Just what I needed to take the edges off.”

  “Yeah. We need to schedule one of those in at least every three hours. Maybe more.” They eased apart, Sonny flopping on his back and hauling MJ to him.

  “At least as long as we have all these edges….” MJ could snuggle with the best of them, which always surprised him, given that whole no-closed-places deal.

  Still, the guy was like an octopus. “Think it’s safe to go back to sleep? I don’t want another rude awakening.”

  “You locked them up and didn’t give Rick more propane?” At his nod, MJ grinned. “We’re fine. Rick’ll sleep for twelve hours, easy.”

  “Okay. Then I vote we stay right here.” His hand rested right on MJ’s hip, and he had to grin about how he’d found that spot for the tattoo up on MJ’s neck. “Dream of getting ink.”

  “Dream of you inking me.” MJ was damn near asleep already. He’d plumb wore the man out.

  He could happily dream of that.

  And he was pretty worn out himself. Sonny drifted off, hoping to hell he didn’t dream of propane instead.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  HE WOKE up slower this time, nothing in his head working. Paddy wasn’t scared, wasn’t mad, wasn’t curious. Nothing. Like really. Weird. Possibly scary. He rolled over, heading to look at Neil, who didn’t look crazed and hurting and sick anymore. Well, that was good. That meant he could go look in that freezer. He could work with Freon.

  Well, he could if he could stop spinning around and around in a circle looking for a….

  A….

  A….

  Screwdriver.

  Yeah.

  One of those.

  Neil moaned a little, making him forget the screwdriver. Especially when Neil sat bolt upright, hair standing up every which way. “Paddy?”

  “Huh?”

  Neil really needed a brush.

  “Oh, thank God. I couldn’t… I couldn’t hear you.” Neil blinked at him, those eyes wide and weird, like a squirrel maybe, or a raccoon, or some other night-dwelling animal….

  Of course, those thoughts led to teeth, and those tended to wig him out. Although, really, Paddy kind of thought that a three-legged rhinoceros could waltz through the room right now and he wouldn’t care.

  Weird.

  “Are you… are you all right, love?” Neil’s knees didn’t work. It was bizarre looking, but when Neil tried to stand, his legs went all scarecrow stuffed with straw, and he kinda plopped on the floor.

  “You should be careful. Your knees aren’t working.” He headed over to the freezer, staring down at the top. Ding Dongs and juice boxes. Okay. “Are you hungry?”

  “No?” Not that Neil sounded sure at all. “What’s wrong, Paddy?”

  “I….” Well, really, nothing, because if something was wrong he’d be wigged out, and he wasn’t, or if he was, he couldn’t tell, and if he couldn’t tell, then he wasn’t really wigged, right? That sort of worked. “I had juice, and then I woke up.”

  “Oh. They must have drugged you again. Whatever they gave me seems to have stopped the truly frightening nausea.” A warm weight landed against his legs, and when he looked down, Neil was sort of…. Well. Huddling against him. He could crawl, at least.

  “Are you okay? I was going to take the freezer apart.” That’s right. He was going to find the uh… long, pointy thing before Neil’s knees distracted him. He smoothed down Neil’s hair, just petting a little.

  “I’m a bit off. So are you. You’re… flat. Barely making a sound. It’s disturbing.” That accent made Neil sound so matter-of-fact and normal.

  “Uh-huh.” He stared at his hand in Neil’s hair. It didn’t feel like his hand. It felt like someone else’s hand going through someone else’s hair. Of course, he didn’t know what someone else’s hand felt like, and the hair was someone else’s. That sort of made him wonder if his hair felt like his own or someone else’s….

  “There you are.” Neil sounded like he was smiling. Oh, he was. Yay. “So why are you taking apart the freezer?”

  “Freon. Haloalkanes heated in a copper tubing become phosgene. If they breathe it, they’ll choke and gag.” At least he thought so. It shouldn’t kill them, really. Unless he was remembering wrong….

  “Who are they? Did you manage to talk to them?” Neil sort of rubbed on him like a cat.

  “Boomer and another guy that I don’t know. I don’t think he was in the Program with us. I think I would have remembered someone like that.” Big. The not-Boomer guy was really, really big. “They said they had to do something with us.”

  “Paddy, my love. Who is Boomer?” Hadn’t he told Neil who Boomer was? Of course, Neil had been really sick. Like making him worried Neil’s intestines would come out sick. Which, ew. And not just a little ew, but ew enough to sort of poke through the fuzzy, happy shit.

  “We were in the Program together. In school. Not for long, well, I mean, together, not in school. He’s older.”

  “Ah. That intensive school you attended. Right. And they need to do something with us. Well, I suppose it was just a matter of time….”

  “Well, yes, except no.” Paddy was fairly sure the problem was because Boomer knew him. It also explained why he hadn’t been shot, though, which wasn’t a problem. “What was a matter of time?”

  “So how do we get out of this basement, love?” Neil tried to crawl up him but ended up in a pile on the floor again. “Well, bugger. Why on earth won’t they work?”

  “I don’t know. They worked before. Let me look.” God, he hoped he didn’t need that screwdriver. Neil’s knees looked fine. Not like the bones or joints had been taken out, which he wouldn’t put past Boomer. But there was no gooeyness. So. It had to be something not fixable with a screwdriver. Well, woo. “Maybe you should have a juice box.”

  His ma used to give those to all of them when they got hot and dizzy and…. “We’re in the desert.”

  “Are we? How extraordinary. Yes, I think I could have a juice and a Ding Dong. Maybe the sugar will get my brain working again.” He’d have to get them, though. Neil couldn’t get up.

  “Okay. You stay there. You have that knee thing.”

  Maybe he’d trip over the screwdriver on the way to the freezer.

  “All right, then.” Neil sort of lolled, watching him, hands moving restlessly over the floor.

  He slid the snacks and the juice over, then dug in the freezer for more Popsicles and…. Spinach. Ew. No. Blech. Oh, maybe there’d be a big chicken. Oh. Oh. Chicken gun. He’d always wanted to build one of those.

  “Why a chicken?”

  Oh, hey, Neil was, like, getting back to normal.

  “Airplanes. And because they’re dead already.” Neil sort of gave him a look, so he kept on. “The government shoots chickens at airplanes to make sure seagulls can’t crash through, and folks get all huffy if you kill birds just to shoot them.”

  Besides, seagull gun sounded stupid.

  “Oh, you mean a gun that shoots chickens. I thought you meant….” He got a sudden image of a dressed roasting chicken shooting little bombs out its cavity.

  “No, the air pressure that would take would just be insane.” He stopped.

  Frowned.

  Huh.

  That was weird.

  He needed a Popsicle for sure.

  Possibly a juice box.

  “Come sit with me a minute, love.” Neil held out a hand sticky with chocolate frosting, a tiny smile playing around Neil’s mouth.

  Oh. Smiles. Cool. He’d hunt chickens later. He settled close, careful to avoid any possible knee weirdness.

  “There. Now, how about you have your juice? We need to regroup, hmm?” Neil touched him, fingers trailing down his arm.

  “I tried to fake them out with my taser, but Boomer’s smarter than
me there.” Not smarter than him in his field, though.

  “Well, I do appreciate the attempt. I just need to get my legs back under me and let these drugs wear off. Then I might be able to focus on them.”

  “I’ll figure something else out. They took the screwdriver and the propane.” He should have kept quiet, but he’d been scared for Neil. Really and truly scared and pissed off all at once.

  “Well, you got them to help me a great deal, so thank you.” Neil kissed his chin. “Would you like half a Ding Dong?”

  “Sure.” He kissed Neil full on the mouth, just because he hadn’t, and he needed to a little.

  “Mmm.” Neil kissed him right back, nothing deep and hard, just like they had all day and nothing pressing to do. Who knew, maybe they didn’t. Oh. Better. Much better. The kiss eased back; then the chocolate and cream and sugar yummy was pushed in his lips. Oh, good.

  “There. Chocolate is good.” Laughing, Neil licked his lower lip even as he chewed, sharing the flavor. “Makes it much easier to sit and think. Or at least it seems so.”

  “Yeah.” Of course, that whole licking thing didn’t help his whole thought-process thing, did it? No. It just made him kind of gooey, in that nonfunky, nonscrewdriver requiring way.

  “Better?” Neil asked, stroking his cheeks, peering into his eyes. There was a smear of cream on the corner of Neil’s mouth.

  “Uh-huh.” There weren’t any paper towels in reach, so the only thing to do was lick the cream away.

  “Mmm.” Well, Neil seemed to like the licking. Heck, Neil seemed to like him sitting close too. One arm went around him, and Neil’s elbows clearly worked better than his knees.

  “Tastes good.” Felt good. “How’s your knees?”

  “I dunno, really. I suppose I ought to try them again, hmm?” Neil didn’t seem to want to move, though, just leaned harder against him.

  “Maybe you should let them… harden.” He wrapped around and held tight.

  “Okay. I’ll let them solidify again.” Turning right into his arms, Neil hugged him, holding on like he was the only solid thing in the world. “I can hear you now.”

  “That’s good, right?” He leaned close, met Neil’s eyes. He wanted it to be good. He wanted things to just be… right.