by Jessie G.
“It certainly can’t hurt. Let’s head down to the café.”
“Bull’s out at a meeting.” That was not-so-subtle code for Red’s all alone, which wasn’t really true. Billy and Jacky were working on an engine rebuild in the next bay and Chris and Liam would be wandering in soon. Still, it seemed only right to look after Red in Bull’s absence and he always enjoyed watching Red and Javier together. There was something very boyish about their friendship. Nodding in silent agreement, Saul cleaned his hands as he watched Javier dash off to the office to collect their young charge.
“He can’t go.” Javier pouted as if he’d found out his best friend had been grounded.
“No?”
“Davin’s swinging by to take him to the crisis center. I guess an artist at the center painted Red’s logo on one of the walls and everyone’s raving about it.”
“Didn’t Bull leave him the Audi?”
“Yeah, but Davin was nearby and Bull’s gonna meet them there. No need for two cars at that point.”
“All right.” Satisfied that Red was taken care of, Saul called out to Billy that they were on break and then waited for Javier to precede him out of the garage. Even during their time under Durango’s roof, he refused to allow Javier to walk behind or beside him. Having Javier at his back made him vulnerable to an attack Saul wouldn’t see coming. At his side Javier would block anything in his periphery. A step in front allowed him to place a guiding hand on Javier’s back while having full view of their surroundings.
The little café down the block wasn’t very busy when they entered and he sent Javier off to secure a table while he ordered. Saul watched from his spot in line as Javier arranged the chairs so they could both sit with their backs to the wall. Only Saul noticed the alertness and almost imperceptible shift of Javier’s eyes toward the door every time the bell chimed. Two years out of prison, four away from Durango, and his boy was still nervous, just better at hiding it.
By the time Saul joined him, Javier was gently rocking on two chair legs. It wasn’t the childish gesture it appeared to be. It was a precursor to a withdrawal, one in which Javier would go to a safe place in his mind until Saul retrieved him. The combination of his earlier mood and the distance across the café had sent Javier scrambling for security. Saul gently curled his hand around Javier’s nape and leaned close. Instantly Javier relaxed into him and his wildly searching gaze dropped to the table.
“I’ve got you.”
“Saul.” The little whimper contained far too much emotion to decipher.
Quietly Saul reminded Javier to breathe, coaxing each breath in and out until he saw the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good.” After setting out their lunch, Saul reached back to pass off the tray to the line forming at the counter. “Eat, pequeño, I know you’re hungry.”
Javier shivered a little as he picked up the sandwich Saul put in front of him, taking an obligatory bite to show he was doing what he was told. “Thank you for lunch.”
Even though they shared a bank account, Javier never failed to be respectfully thankful. Hell, they shared everything except a bed unless Javier sought him out. When they’d hatched their plan to get out from under Durango’s thumb, it was so they could be safe and together, and in theory they were. Certainly, neither had sought out the company of another and Javier was never far from his side, but Saul hadn’t factored in prison’s effect on his already broken boy. Oh, he had no doubt Javier held his own—Saul had spent the months before their escape teaching him how to fight. Still, Javier had taken one look at Saul waiting at the prison gate and collapsed. When Bull raced forward to help, Javier screamed so high and so long that the memory of the sound still woke him up at night. Saul had barely gotten him in the back seat of the car and it had taken him six months to speak more than two word responses.
At first, Javier’s nightmares kept most of the men up at night. Then Saul forced Javier to go to the garage every morning where he simply moved around like a robot, doing whatever Saul told him to do. If Javier crashed, Saul stopped whatever he was doing to pick him up. Bull and Jared were well within their rights to send them packing, but neither had said a word.
Saul didn’t think it could get worse, had hoped it would get better, and was blindsided when Javier came out of the shower one morning and calmly told him he should have his own room. Those were his first real, unprompted words. The rejection of it floored Saul so much that he’d simply nodded and made arrangements. By the time they left for work, Javier had moved his things to the room on the other side of the joint bathroom, close enough to touch, but so far apart. After all the planning, the hellish time spent in prison, the six silent months picking up the pieces day after day, Javier wanted to be away from him.
That same day, when they arrived at the garage, Javier asked to speak with Bull privately. It had taken every ounce of Saul’s control not to rampage as he watched his boy go quietly along with the bigger man. As his bodyguard, he’d seen Javier go off with too many men and bore witness to the transformation from wide-eyed fright to dull resignation to a depression so deep he’d feared Javier would do something irrevocable.
Bull found him shortly thereafter and told him that Javier apologized for his behavior, claimed to be pretty good with cars and that he begged for the opportunity to prove himself. At that point Saul had been expecting a full withdrawal, but Javier seemed to be content with the line he’d drawn. He didn’t object when Saul came to soothe his nightmares, nor did he hesitate to seek the comfort of Saul’s arms whenever he needed to. It left them coexisting in a strange sort of limbo.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
The soft question pulled him back to the present. “Can’t seem to focus today.”
“Something’s been on your mind for a while. Do you want to talk about it?”
Saul gave up pretending to eat and pushed his sandwich aside. Javier’s gaze remained steady on his, maybe a little wary, but he didn’t shy away. When had that changed? “Are you happy here, Javi?”
“Yeah, for the most part. It’s probably the happiest I’ve been since my parents were killed. Our little family, the work...yeah, it’s good. Why, aren’t you happy here?”
The answer tugged at him. Javier was still a teenager when his world was ripped out from under him. Had little Javier dreamed of being something when he grew up? “With our family, the work, the freedom...yeah, that’s all good.”
“But?”
Saul would never be so lost in regrets that he couldn’t hear the note of panic in that question. Soothingly, he traced Javier’s jaw and promised, “It’s all good, pequeño.”
Like a needy kitten, Javier stretched into his touch, begging for more. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Am I strong enough yet?”
“For what?”
Javier licked his lips nervously, drawing Saul’s gaze, just before he lunged forward, pressed their mouths together and dropped back as if he feared the reaction. Stunned, it took a moment for Saul to realize what happened. Of all the first kisses he ever imagined between them, that was so not it and yet it was so perfectly Javier. Daringly fearful, it was a quality few would find as endearing as he did, even if his boy was heaving as if he’d run a marathon.
Reaching for the edge of Javier’s chair, Saul jerked him closer. “Look at me.”
Those dark, bottomless eyes lifted, showing fear and excitement, want and terror. The soft accompanying whimper reflected every one of those emotions. “Saul, I’m so...”
“If you wish to kiss me, pequeño, you will do it right.” There was no way he would let Javier apologize for doing what they both wanted. How was it that this broken, terrified man, always managed to be stronger than him? Every day he longed to take that beautiful mouth with his own and years of caution prevented him from acting on it.
“Kissing was never...uh...it’s been...I’m not sure I know how to
do it right.”
“Shall I show you?” Saul definitely didn’t want to hear any more about anything Javier may or may not have had to do before.
“Yes, please.”
Was it wishful thinking to hear more eagerness than fear? As impetuous as the kiss was, would Javier regret it later? It seemed like Saul could make the most of this moment and damn the consequences, or force Javier to think about what he started and decide if he wanted to pursue it. They were far too invested in each other to risk it on a fleeting moment. “Tell me, if I make you wait until we’re alone tonight, will you lose your nerve?”
The idea of waiting kicked Javier’s heavy breathing up five notches. “No, I won’t lose my nerve.”
Perhaps it was selfish, but the wait for this moment had seemed infinite and, while he would give Javier time to reconsider, Saul wasn’t opposed to stacking the deck in his favor. “I’m not convinced. Perhaps you need a little incentive. Rest the tip of your tongue between your lips, just the tip, so I can see it.”
Javier’s tongue appeared instantly, slick and pink and inviting. Saul stroked Javier’s jaw gently and watched more of the fear recede. That was all the encouragement he needed to lean in and slowly lick a path from one corner of Javier’s mouth to the other. Gratified by the low groan Javier gifted him with, Saul did it again.
“More please,” Javier whispered when Saul pulled back.
“Let me see your tongue again, all of it.” If there were any other customers in the café, neither noticed nor cared when Javier complied. Saul opened his mouth around Javier’s tongue and took it completely in, tightened around it and pulled back slowly, dragging his lips along every sensitive nerve ending. Javier’s whimper made him instantly hard.
Saul eased back enough to see Javier’s eyes and the feelings within. To his shock, all the fear had been replaced by a determination Saul had never seen in Javier before and, while he knew better than to hope, the rush of it was nearly overwhelming. “Are you strong enough for what, pequeño?”
Javier’s smile grew as he whispered the words Saul had given up hope of ever hearing. “To be yours.”
CHAPTER 2
Kyle
A voyeur at twenty-eight—how had he sunk so low? In his defense, Kyle couldn’t remember ever seeing anything as beautiful as the two men in the corner. Both of Latino descent, their olive skin and dark hair immediately pinged on his radar. As he stood in line to order, Kyle couldn’t help but watch as the dominant comforted his partner. That moment when his hand fell to the submissive’s neck had been so electric that Kyle felt it across the small café. Then they just breathed together, slow and steady, until they were one breath in unison.
It hadn’t been his intention to get the table next to theirs, but by the time he sat, all the rest were taken. Neither looked his way, which was surprising because most people did, men and women alike. Some said he had a look about him, not too tall, not too broad, with that all-American, boy-next-door vibe. Not a bad package that was kicked up by pale blue eyes that had been described as freaky or sexy depending on who was fucking him, and blond hair that could border on white if he stayed out in the sun too long. Having just come back from Mexico, shooting new scenes for the porn house he contracted with, he knew all the normal things that drew attention were amplified by his deep golden tan.
For once he was glad not to be noticed. Their moment was so intimate he wouldn’t want to intrude and settled for huddling in a chair against the wall. Yet, as much as he reminded himself to focus on the pitiful grilled chicken salad, his gaze kept straying. When the tip of that pink tongue teased those full lips, he felt his cock swell. Kyle couldn’t recall the last time he reacted to anyone without the benefit of some Viagra, and to have it happen now, in a crowded café, stunned him. Then the dominant one leaned in and licked him. No, no, shit, he held him in place and tortured that exquisite mouth so expertly it was a wonder Kyle didn’t shoot in his pants just watching.
With just the barest touch of an accent, the submissive begged for more. His voice was barely a whisper, so Kyle couldn’t tell how deep or accented it really was, but that whispery moan spoke a language all its own.
Nervously, he glanced around the café. Public displays were usually frowned upon and man-on-man was usually worse. A few people glanced their way, but no one seemed inclined to confront the pair and he instinctively knew that had everything to do with the dominant one. Yeah, he oozed a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude that was no act.
Holy shit, he was going for the whole tongue. This was no kiss, it was better. Pure, undiluted, sexual torture. Kyle had to bite his own tongue to keep it in his mouth. It took a full minute to slide down the length of that tongue. A full fucking minute and was that a little suckle at the end? When the submissive moaned, Kyle moaned right along with him.
Kyle forced himself to look down at his plate as they leaned in to whisper to each other, and practically shoveled the food in his mouth. If he didn’t get out of there soon he’d be begging to join them, tongue out, legs spread, whatever they wanted.
“Red’s here.” The voice had him looking up again. The deep timbre rolled through him, the heavy accent tickling his balls, and Kyle could only imagine how it deepened when the dominant one was thrusting in and out of his stunning partner.
The submissive turned and frowned, then looked back quickly to gain permission to go speak to whoever Red was. When the dominant one nodded, he rose in a movement so graceful that Kyle wondered if he’d been a dancer. Taller than him at probably five ten or eleven, muscular in an understated way, with waves of ink black hair that was long enough to grab but only barely skimmed his collar. Tracking him across the café, Kyle noted that he walked with confidence, none of the nervousness he saw earlier, and he didn’t touch a single person. The gentle twists and turns of that beautiful body were executed so perfectly as to avoid even a passing glance. And that ass—so round and snug in a pair of faded jeans that it could definitely be called a bubble butt.
Red was aptly named and the tall, slender man was gorgeous. Pale skin, slightly mussed red hair, and a full red mouth that smiled broadly at Perfect Ass. Not only did Perfect Ass touch this man, he wrapped a casual arm around his waist and leaned in to whisper to him. That made Kyle wonder if they ever tag teamed the dominant one.
“No.”
Startled, Kyle jerked around and met the darkest eyes he’d ever seen. A strangled breath caught in his throat as he got sucked in. Everything about him exuded power, but those eyes were where the real danger lurked. This was a man you did not mess with and Kyle would still suck his cock every day and twice on Sunday if he just kept looking at him like that. There was no doubt in Kyle’s mind that his own was weeping in his board shorts. “What?”
“No, I do not fuck them both. No, you will not look at Red like that again. And yes, Javi does have a perfect ass.”
“Holy shit, was I talking out loud?” No, you will not look at Red like that again. That clear distinction made him wonder it was all right for him to continue ogling Perfect Ass.
“You didn’t have to. Your face is very expressive.”
“Is it really?” Lately he’d heard just the opposite from the producers and directors. You’re too passive, Kyle. Hell, you don’t even moan anymore.
“Yes, it is.” Perfect Ass...no, he’d called him Javi...had returned with a voice that was not as deep nor as accented, but flowed like smooth honey. “You like my ass, surfer boy?”
“It’s, uh….perfect.”
Javi looked over his shoulder at the obvious snicker from the line. “Red, did you hear that?”
“Unfortunately. You should come with a warning sign, ‘Don’t feed the ego!’”
The dominant looked over at Red with a mixture of amusement and brotherly concern. “Davin?”
“Idling at the curb. Bull hasn’t eaten all day.”
“You’re a good man.”
“You know me, Saul, anything for a blow job.” When someone at a nearby
table started choking, Red flushed a little—not quite embarrassed and definitely a little amused. Then Red cocked his head and focused on him for what seemed like forever. Finally he grinned and looked back at Saul. “Remember the Jared conversation?”
Javi shot Saul a can we, can we? look and those dangerous eyes raked him with the hottest leer Kyle had ever been subjected to. “Oh, Red, I do like the way you think.”
The next number called belonged to Red and whatever the old woman behind the counter said to him had him leaning across the counter to plant a loud kiss on her cheek. Did they all have perfect asses? Red’s sat atop legs so long that Kyle wondered how many times he could wrap them around a person. As a bottom, it was usually his legs doing the wrapping and more than one scene partner had been irritated that his legs weren’t long enough to do the position justice.
“I did warn you not to look at Red like that.” Saul’s deep voice drew him again. It was a great name that fit the man perfectly and he wanted to try it on his tongue. As quick as the thought come, Kyle knew Saul wasn’t the type of man you treated with such casual familiarity. Use of his given name was probably by invitation only and Kyle wasn’t likely to be granted that privilege on such a fleeting moment.
“Well, come on, you can’t expect me not to! He’s gorgeous and he said blow job. In public. It’s like the holy grail.”
“Ha, I wish I had this on video. Bull would love it.” Javi laughed and leaned up to nuzzle beneath Saul’s jaw.
“I gather Bull fits his name?” Kyle hoped like hell that his suddenly expressive face didn’t give away the quick and dirty bull riding visual he’d just had. The silence lengthened as they appraised him openly. In all his years in porn he’d never been eye fucked quite like this. If they weren’t in a public restaurant, he’d have already laid himself bare on their table in offering. “Okay, so this isn’t uncomfortable at all.”
“Ah, papi chulo, we didn’t say that while you were enjoying the show, did we?” Saul laughed, a deep rumbling sound of real amusement that Kyle felt in every cell of his body.
