by BA Tortuga
Possibly even decapitated.
That had been fun.
Greg let himself imagine wrapping the plastic cord around MJ’s throat and squeezing, pulling the noose tighter and tighter until MJ’s eyes bugged out of his head, then letting the filthy bastard go before doing it again.
And again.
And again.
He felt his muscles flex, his skin tugging and pulling, dragging over his muscles as he forced his fingers to work.
To tug.
Hard.
When the girl’s body hit the floor, the IV tubing around her throat, eyes filled with blood, Greg let go.
Smiled.
Out of his control.
Nonsense.
Utter nonsense.
He’d created Manning. He’d taken the Program over and brought it to new heights.
It was his, and he had not lost fucking control.
He kicked the still-warm body, the flesh giving around his toes.
Bitch.
He dug through her bag, found her phone and her lighter, her key card, her laptop. Sloppy little pointless cunt.
By the time the fire started, twenty minutes later, he was in a cab, wearing a trench coat he’d swiped from the doctor’s lounge, head covered by a hoodie.
Manning.
It was time to bring his lost one home and make the man pay.
Chapter Ten
THE PROF, Duncan. Well, he was sleeping the sleep of the drugged. Literally. Colby had finally had to put a little pill in the man’s soft drink. All that gibbering and growling and swelling up like a muscly horny toad….
He thought idly about what he’d have to do to make his client believe the man was dead. And then he kinda thought about what he would do with the feller after.
Really, the idea of his own Stockholm-syndrome sex slave was kinda cool, but impractical.
Wasn’t like he could cut off fingers or ears or nothin’ either. He’d have to send the client something besides the blood. Maybe the little glasses. Tell the client he’d had to cut it close, dispose of the body instead of leaving it.
Could they tell if the blood came from a dead guy?
Colby wandered over and crossed his arms, staring down at the good professor, mulling it all over. The man was damn pretty, especially when the bastard stopped thinking and started fighting. That temper was something else. He’d bet dollars to doughnuts that the pretty dark-haired teacher-man worked very hard at not losing it too.
It was damned tempting to poke the middle of that surprisingly wide chest. He’d love to see what Duncan was like all drugged up. Too bad he hadn’t given the son of a bitch that much. Just enough to let him have some rest.
Just like Duncan heard him, those dark eyes popped open, staring right at him.
“Hey, Doc. How’s it hanging?” A man had to observe the friendly formalities.
“My throat hurts. I have to get to class. I have midterms.”
“Oh, you can take it easy, Doc. Sleep in.” That blinky look was damned cute. Really. It was bizarre, ’cause he sure wasn’t in the habit of kidnapping folks and jerking them off….
“I was having the weirdest dreams….” Doc reached out for him, fingers wrapping around his wrist and hugging for a second before letting go.
His hand tingled, his fingers curling right up. Oh hell. Sighing, Colby gave up on keeping his distance, and he sat right on the bed, kicking his boots off so he could slide in next to the Doc. “What about?”
“Fighting? Sex? It was all jumbled.” Doc snuggled right in, blinking a little. “You’re going to think I’m awful, Cowboy, but I can’t remember your name.”
“Colby, honey. And I don’t think you’re awful at all.” Cute as hell, with eyelashes way too long to be a man’s, but not awful.
“Colby? Like the cheese?” The Doc chuckled, grinned a little lopsided. “I am seriously fucked-up.”
“Just a bit. And yeah, I guess like cheese.” Grinning, he nuzzled up, lips on the Doc’s skin.
“I…. Mmm. You’re warm.” Damn, that was addictive, the way the Doc arched, responded to him.
“You’re a little chilled.” Colby rubbed his hands up and down Duncan’s arms, going for warmth.
“Mm-hmm. You’ve got amazing hands.”
“Thanks.” The goose bumps died right down, and Colby went from warming to just stroking, testing the Doc’s muscles. Strong, in that tennis-playing way, and damned compact—if the Doc knew how to cause trouble, he’d be even more dangerous. He had smooth skin too. Pretty. Not all scarred up like Colby was. The man obviously tanned too.
“What happened to you? You….” Those fingers traced his scars, tickling and teasing, touching him.
“Hmm? Oh, that one was a burn. There was this car….” Jesus, he was glad he’d had a nice, hard orgasm not long ago.
“Yeah?” Every time the Doc blinked, those eyelashes tickled him.
Colby chuckled, rubbing their noses together. “That one happened when I zigged when I shoulda zagged,” he added as those clever fingers found another scar.
“I…. Ouch. That… that had to hurt. I think scars are hot.”
“Do you? You’ll love me, then.” Wait until the guy came across the bullet hole on his ass.
“What did I take? I’m all floaty.” Not that the Doc sounded like he cared; he was way more interested in touching, licking.
“Just a little muscle relaxant. You were all tense.” That wasn’t strictly a lie. And he sure didn’t want Duncan getting all uptight again. Colby was enjoying the snuggleage.
“Okay.” Someone was in deep damn denial and was sensual as fuck, just sweet as a Sunday pie supper.
“But you’re much better now, honey. All warm and good. It’s a good look for you.” Licking worked too. Colby liked the licking.
“Yeah. I’m a little… goofy.” That mouth slid over his shoulder, his collarbone.
“That’s okay, Doc. I like goofy just fine.” Look at that man, all clingy and shit. And responsive too. Every time Colby touched him, the Doc moved into his hand.
“This is…. It’s….” Uh-uh. No thinking. It wasn’t going to help anything just now.
“Shhh.” Cowboy did what any gentleman would do. He kissed the thoughts right out of Duncan’s head.
Duncan opened up for him, kissing him back with a heady fucking passion. Pretty, pretty. They shifted, moving to lie on their sides, his hand cupped under Duncan’s head, holding the man there for more kissing. Hell, he liked that too. Sensual fucking man—it was natural as breathing, the way the pretty bastard responded, tongue sliding against his.
They kissed for a long while, just wet and hot and slow. Wasn’t no way Duncan was gonna do anything fast and urgent in the state he was in, but that was okay. Colby was pretty damned happy.
“This….” Duncan’s words trailed off, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. “So good.”
“Mmm-hmm. Pretty man.” His fingers massaged the back of Duncan’s head, soothing a little, just feeling.
“Feels good.” Duncan’s eyes rolled up, those lips curving in a smile.
“You just need some rest, Doc. Some pampering.” Right, because he was a therapist or something. He was a fucking gun for hire.
“That….” Duncan pushed closer, hand sliding around his waist, down past his waistband.
“Mmm. Oh, I like that, honey.” He sure did. Those fingers slipped down to touch his ass…. Yeah.
“Cowboy butt. God. You’re a queer man’s fantasy.” Those hands grabbed hold of his ass, squeezed.
“Yeah?” Well, the cowboy butt thing was true enough. He worked hard at it in his off time.
“Yeah. Well, I have a lot of fantasies, but you’re archetypal.”
Archetypal. Lord, Lord. Grinning, he licked a line right up that fine throat. “I’ll be happy to be any fantasy you want, honey.”
“Mmm.” Duncan swallowed, cock full, nudging against his hip.
“Oh, feel that. You’re all ready for me, huh?”
Damn, that was something. Good thing he’d come along. The Doc might have exploded with all that pent-up need.
“Uh-huh. You’re something else.” He got another kiss, this one sharper, needier, and he figured Doc wasn’t all that fuzzy-headed now, was he? No sir. He was right there.
“I am that, honey.” His free hand slid down and pushed against Duncan’s cock, giving the man more to rub against. Damn, he was helpful.
“Uhn.” That was just fine. Almost as good as those fingers slipping around to work his fly open.
“That’s it, honey.” Oh yeah. Scooting his hips back, he gave Duncan the space he needed to get him out and working. The Doc’s lips parted, the man looking like a fucking wet dream as those smooth hands wrapped around his cock. Licking at his lips, Colby shifted back, right into the cradle of Duncan’s hips so their cocks rubbed together. That way they could both stroke a little.
Talk about a firecracker. The Doc hummed and pressed closer, hand on his ass, pulling in.
It was fucking glorious. He just rubbed and pulled and took more kisses, until they were both breathless. Duncan’s hand joined his, driving them higher, thumb working his slit.
“Shit!” His hips bucked, his forehead pressing against Duncan’s. His own hand worked back and forth too, just moving faster and faster.
“You. You look. Close.” Duncan groaned, eyes staring right into his.
“Uh-huh. You feel close. Come on, Doc. Come for me and you can sleep the day away. We might even hit the hot tub.” He’d move them to a place that had one, just for this man.
“Oh. Hot tu….” Heat poured over his fingers, Duncan shaking for him.
That did it. That had him coming like a ton of bricks, his orgasm falling over him like a sack of concrete. It left him limp and breathless.
Duncan nuzzled in, lips on his throat for a second, soft as fuck. “Mmm. ’S good.”
“You know it.” Colby went back to petting, one hand sliding down Duncan’s back. “Get some rest, Doc. I’ll take care of everything.”
“’Kay. ’Kay, Cowboy.” Man, snuggly professor. He approved.
Colby figured he’d better enjoy it now. When the Doc really woke up, they’d probably be fighting again.
Unless he could find that hot tub.
THE ENTIRE world was fuzzy, and no matter how much Duncan blinked, it didn’t get smoother.
He had to… do. Do something.
Okay.
He had to think. Obviously.
Okay. Okay. First things first. Glasses. He needed his glasses and a shower, and then he’d figure out the important stuff.
Like where he was and where his BlackBerry was.
He rolled off the bed, swaying as he tried to figure where the bathroom was.
God, he had to stop drinking.
Warm hands slid around his waist, holding him steady. “Hey, Doc. You need to hit the head?”
“I…. Yeah. Yeah. I need. Yeah. A shower, you know. Gotta clear my head.” Mmm. That felt good.
“Mmm-hmm. You want to try out the hot tub after, you just holler.” The warm body behind him pushed and rubbed, taking him right to the bathroom. “There you go.”
“Hot tub.” Fuck, he had to piss. And brush his goddamn teeth and….
Wait.
Whoa.
He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink—at the faded bruises on his throat, the way his eyes looked. “Man, I’m late for class.”
He was seriously confused, something right at the base of his brain telling him to get the hell out.
“You just do your thing, Doc. I’ll be right out here.” Somehow that sounded ominous. Especially since the bathroom had no windows.
Shower. Shower. He got the water going, watching the steam for a minute. Come on. Come on, Duncan. Think. Think.
You went to Koko’s for tempura with Sandra and Lisa. Then you went and got gas. Then back to the office to grade those horrible fucking papers on Márquez and then….
Then….
He touched his throat. Frowned.
Something stirred in his memory, something deep and a little shivery. Where the hell was he?
He stepped into the water, started washing himself. Who was that out there? He didn’t pick up random men. He had tons of friends with benefits. And where the fuck was he?
He turned the water to cold, the sudden chill making him gasp, jerk. Cowboy. It was a cowboy. Sent to kill him. Jesus fucking Christ.
Who would want to kill him?
What had he done recently? Hell, what had he done ever? He was the guy the kids liked. He understood about schedules and shit. He knew that his students weren’t interested in what he was teaching, for Christ’s sake. He was doing it for the one or two a semester that went “Wow.”
He didn’t seduce the kids. He played the games the dean wanted him to. Hell, he was the head of the damned GLBT Alliance, rainbow-flag waving and listening to twinks cry about the trauma of coming out. None of this was hit-list worthy, not even in Texas.
Duncan sat there, head on the tile, breathing nice and slow like his therapist had taught him to help with the migraines, slowing his breath until the edges of his sight were sparkling and light. Okay. Okay. Thinking. Thinking. Come on, think of something.
Right, like he was fucking MacGyver.
The knock on the door had him almost jumping out of his skin. “Come on, Doc. I’m starving. We need to get some food.”
Food.
Right.
Okay. Okay, come on. Breathe. “You go ahead. I’m soapy.”
Good answer. Soapy.
“Sorry, honey. I’m not going without you.” Was that a threat? It didn’t sound like it. But it did.
Shit. Shit. What did he need to do? He stepped out of the shower, trying to be quiet, grabbing a towel and looking for anything he could use.
“The toilet bowl lid makes a great weapon if you break it, but I’m not sure you have the strength right now, honey.”
Fuck! Fuck, how did the man get the door open so quietly?
He didn’t think, he just ran like hell for the bathroom door. Come on, lizard brain!
A hard arm slapped right across his middle, jerking him to a halt. “We gonna dance again, Doc?”
Jesus, that hurt.
“I’m wet.” He grabbed the door handle, pulling hard. “I have a class to teach.”
“You’re not going back, Doc. You do get that someone wants you dead, yeah? And if they think I failed, they’ll send someone else.” The words fell on the back of his neck, hot and damp.
“For what? It’s over. It’s already over.” Wait. What? What was over? What was he saying?
“It’s never over with the folks that hire men like me, honey.” So serious. Could that be for real? Or was the guy just trying to scare him?
“I need…. I have a life. Students. Fish. Let me go!” He was attempting firm but calm. It was the biggest fucking lie ever.
“You have fish? Well, someone will take them.”
“What?” He had office hours. Papers. Commitments. A standing dinner date with his book club, for fuck’s sake.
“Breathe, Doc. You smell nice. All clean.” That man… surely that cowboy crazy man did not just nuzzle the back of his neck?
“I…. We…. This can’t be real.” And he wasn’t pushing back into the man either.
Damn it.
“Mmm-hmm. If that’s what gets you through the day.” That was definitely the sting of teeth, right on his nape.
“Fuck.” He pulled himself through the doorway, his cock hard as nails, just defying all laws of good sense.
“Don’t fight with me, Duncan. We could have some fun.” The man followed, body pressing against his backside, hand sliding right down to find his prick.
“I thought you were hungry.” He had lost his fucking mind. Lost it. Gone. His cock, of course, was all awake and willing to play “entertain the homicidal cowboy.”
“I am. But it can wait. This is way more urgent.” Yeah,
as urgent as the hardness against his ass.
“What the fuck is going on?” That mouth hit his nape again, and his knees wobbled some, toes curling right up.
“Adrenaline. That, and you need a good hard fucking more than any man I’ve ever met.” The one hand stayed on his cock. The other pressed against his belly before sliding up his chest, palm flattening over his nipple.
Adrenaline.
“You meet a lot of guys this way?” He groaned, his hips moving of their own accord. Honestly, he’d completely lost control of this situation, assuming he’d ever had it. There was a chunk of really fuzzy time in there.
“Nope. You’re the first one I’ve ever taken with me. Just seemed like a good idea at the time.” Rubbing hard, the cowboy hummed happily, the sound completely incongruous with their situation.
“A good….” He went up on tiptoe as his cock got a nice, firm tug. “Oh….”
“Uh-huh. A real good idea. You’re fucking hot, Doc. I like it. I like it all.” Oh God. That thumb just rubbed up and down, pressing and pushing.
“I can’t. I have to think.” He couldn’t think like this, not at all.
“Not right now. No thinking. Just feel.” Jesus. Oh, sweet Jesus. The cowboy turned him around, sank to the floor, and sucked his cock right into that amazing mouth.
His head slammed back between his shoulders, every single inch of him going tight and hard and needy. Fuck. Fuck, yes. So hot. Hard hands closed on his ass, hot lips slid down his length, and all he could do was stand there. The man sucked like a Hoover.
Duncan did the only thing he could—he went with it, humping and jerking, pushing back into those bruising hands. The pleasure all but brought him to his knees when the cowboy sucked him all the way down, one hand slipping to cup his balls. It was all he could take. He shot so hard his teeth rattled, balls aching with it. The fucking world went white and sparkly.
When he came back down he was on the floor too, the cowboy holding him, murmuring nonsense. Just when had he lost his mind?
And why the fuck wasn’t he more concerned about losing it?
He didn’t pull away. He just couldn’t, not yet. Not with the man holding him like that.
“I got you, Doc. I got you.” Sweet. That kiss was sweet as anything.
