Road Trip, Volume 2

by BA Tortuga

  Knew it right now, and it wasn’t fair, because they were happy, but it was what it was and…. Oh, Neil’s mug.

  He wrapped that in a tea towel, then another one, then tape. Neil was sleeping. Neil was tired, and he was tired, but he couldn’t rest. Not right now, because they needed to pack and be out of here before whatever bad thing that was going to happen happened. His eyes landed on the phone, and all of a sudden he wanted to call his mom, tell her hello and that he was sorry and that he loved her, so much, and didn’t want her to worry, because he knew she did.

  Would.

  Had.

  Except that she thought he was dead, even when he wasn’t, and….

  Right.

  Whatever.

  The books went into two backpacks, the puzzle books sliding in the side pockets.

  Hurry. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  Paddy stared at the doors, the windows, where he’d booby-trapped them all with tiny little flashbangs—nothing fancy, just little fireballs that were more sound and light than heat.

  Don’t come in. I won’t let you in.

  Whoever you are.

  Hurry, Paddy. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  He headed for the bathroom, gathered toothbrushes and combs and soap and shampoos, heart pounding in his chest.

  “Paddy?” Neil came to the bathroom door, hair sticking up every which way.

  “Yeah, Neil? You’re awake. You’re supposed to be asleep, huh? You were so tired.”

  “I was. I am. I could hear you. Worrying.” Neil gave him a small smile, coming to help pack a ditty bag.

  “Me? I’m sorry. I try not to let you, but I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Padraic.” Neil kissed his shoulder, pressing close briefly. “I’m not made of glass. It’s okay to let me know.”

  Paddy shivered, turned to face Neil. “Don’t open the doors or windows. They’re trapped.”

  “Oh, good to know.” Smiling into his eyes, Neil took a kiss, those light-colored eyes shining for him. “I might have thrown open a sash.”

  “That would have been bad.” And loud. Blinding. Sort of jarring.

  “Indeed.” Neil kissed him again before turning them both back to packing.

  Brush. Razors.

  He headed into the bedroom, finished up their clothes, grabbed the pillows. He liked their pillows. He knew it had to be bad when Neil didn’t stop to look at every little thing. Neil was way more attached to this and that.

  They got packed, everything moved to the front door. “You want to call for a car or what?”

  “No. No, you stay right here. I arranged transport.”

  Oh man. He hoped it wasn’t a boat.

  “Let me get the things on the door.” He unhooked the flashbang, packaged it up. He’d get the windows next. Neil watched him, one leg bouncing, hands working the tiny little cell phone Neil carried. Must be texting. Go Neil in all his techno glory. It didn’t take any time at all to fix the windows, and he was ready. Solid. Steady. He had his Canadian passport for George Patterson. Neil had his Spanish one. They were good.

  A car pulled up, silent as a ghost, no lights on, even in the growing dusk. It was an odd sight, but only because he was used to walking now, or using bikes.

  “Okay, Neil. Let’s go.” He could see it—see the worry and tension in Neil’s face. Now. Now was good.

  Right now.

  “Yes.” Neil took one last look around, wistful, almost truly sad. Then they went and loaded everything in the car.

  Neil never looked back.

  He did, though. Paddy looked hard, trying to remember every single second. This had been a good place.

  He prayed it wouldn’t be the last one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THEY HAD a little cabin by the beach. It was starting to be a theme with them. This one was nicely out of the way, with only a path down a steep cliff to the beach. Easily defensible, isolated, and fucking perfect. Sonny had set up all the equipment, studiously making sure everything was sterilized, because no way was he inflicting gangrene on his Precious. Then he went to find MJ.

  It took him a minute to find the man, but he did—stretched out in the sun, basking like a big inked lizard.

  “Hey, Precious. You ready? ’Cause I’m ready.”

  “Sure, what’re we blowing up?” MJ rolled over, stretched, ass in the air.

  “We’re not. I’m going to tattoo you.” He was so ready he hurt. Literally.

  “Oh.” Oh man. Look at that. Look at that flush, climbing up MJ’s back.

  “Yeah. Oh. Are you ready?” Damn it. Come on. Sonny bounced on his toes.

  “Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine.” MJ rolled up, stretched. “Man, the sun feels good.”

  “It does.” He reached out, grabbed MJ’s hand. “Come on.”

  “Eager.” MJ pushed right up against him, cock filling like a balloon hooked to a tank of helium.

  “I am. I want to see you. Smell you. I want you, Precious.” Laughing, he pulled MJ back into the little cabin, pushed him down in the chair he’d set up. MJ didn’t look worried. No, those eyes just stared him down, starting to heat up around the edges.

  “Mmm. I could eat you up.” Sonny bent and took a kiss, lips and tongue moving with MJ’s, before he drew back and got the razor.

  “You’re not eating me with that, man.” MJ grinned at him, all sprawled and relaxed….

  “No, I’m just cleaning your hairy monkey shoulder.” That might not even make sense. Sonny was the hairy one.

  “Hairy monkey. Ooo ooo ooo.” Smartass.

  “Yeah, yeah. Lean.” He had to get to MJ’s shoulder, get it cleaned up so he could start work. It was weird. He should be nervous. He wasn’t a bit.

  MJ leaned, let him have that muscled shoulder. The prep work took a few short minutes, and then he was ready. Really. Damn. “You solid, Precious?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Sonny. I’m with you.” MJ dragged him in, kissed him good and hard.

  He let himself sink into the kiss for a moment, really loving it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do this without getting all hot and bothered anyway. MJ rippled all against him, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

  They rocked together a bit, both of them making little noises, the very idea making them crazy. Sonny finally pulled away, though, knowing he couldn’t let himself get distracted. “I come, I’ll have to go to sleep. You know that, Precious.”

  MJ got all tickled, laughing at him. “You mean that your hand won’t be steadier if I blow you?”

  Oh, shithead. “My hand is always steady. I just can’t doze off with an ink gun in my hand.”

  “No, then I’d be all modern art museumy, man.” MJ rolled his belly, making the dark ink dance. “You freehanding or drawing on me?”

  “I’m freehanding.” Risky, but the design was simple enough, and he liked the intimacy of the idea of tiny imperfections.

  “Cool. Here, let me….” MJ stood, swung the chair around, and straddled it, chest leaning on the back. “That’ll be more stable.”

  “Excellent.” Sonny got the gun ready and made himself be all loose and shit. “Let’s do this.”

  MJ didn’t answer, just leaned forward and let him have at. He snapped the rubber band around the gun motor, dipped into the little cap deal of ink, and took a deep breath.

  Letting half of his breath out, Sonny put the needle to MJ’s skin, having memorized what he wanted to use for the test line. For the rest, he had the design drawing propped up on the table next to him.

  MJ let out a deep sigh, and Sonny laid down the first line, long and dark and heavy, the beads of blood just forming. He’d learned how to wipe that away and keep working, how it was better to keep going if he could. By the time Sonny remembered to blink to clear his eyes, a quarter of the outline was done.

  There were rays and the first curve of the sun there, outlined in black.

  Thank God he didn’t have to do color. He did have to do shading, but he could do that. He could. It actually looked pretty good.


  MJ grinned at him. “Have you worked out the nerves enough to talk during, now?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Precious. I think I might could even chew gum.” If it wouldn’t’ve ruined the tat, he’d let MJ have it with that needle.

  “Wow. I’ve never had an artist who could do that.”

  “Well, there you go. I’m multitalented.” Hell, MJ knew how talented he was, especially with his mouth. He did another line, another ray of sun.

  “I know that.” The serious note in MJ’s voice rocked him a little bit, let him know that his Precious was as into this as he was. Fuck, it was good. It was beyond good. Sonny hummed, working, wiping blood out of the way. Wasn’t near as gross as stitching MJ up after a bar fight.

  “I want you so fucking bad.” MJ’s cock was leaking, the scent just fucking heady.

  “I know, Precious.” It came out more of a groan than anything else, but he had to finish now. Had to.

  “I used to go, after jobs. Thought I needed them. Now….” MJ’s thighs went rock-hard. “Fuck, I haven’t even done a job in weeks.”

  “You’ve never been inked by me.” No one would ever work on MJ again but him. Sonny was sweating, panting, but just like when he drove, his hand stayed steady.

  “Not until now.” MJ groaned, eyes closing a little.

  “No. Not until now.” He pushed in more ink, letting his fingers and wrist do the work, his eyes admiring the way MJ’s skin took.

  “Tell me you’re going to fuck me, after. I’ve never done that either.”

  “You always did the fucking, huh?” Sonny leaned in close to MJ’s ear. “I’ll ruin you for life.”

  “Swear it?”

  “Fuck, yes. I don’t lie to you, Precious. Not ever.” He knew better. MJ would find out about it and kick his ass anyway.

  “You don’t. Jesus, that is the hottest fucking burn.” The smell of MJ rocked him down to the bone.

  “Love how you look like this. How you smell, MJ. Makes me fucking hot.” Sonny moved a little closer, finishing the outline on the outside.

  MJ looked, that grin just pleased as hell. “Yours. I like it.”

  “All I have to do now is shade. I have to change needles.” His hand was just a little shaky while he pulled away. It would be fine when he went back to work.

  MJ’s hand slid up his spine, touching him, stroking him in a straight, long line.

  “Careful, Precious. Got to finish.” His nipples were tight, his cock rock-hard, and he was glad as hell this was a simple design.

  “You will. Then you’ll ruin me for life. I can’t fucking wait.”

  Neither could he. Sonny breathed in and out a few times before starting again, the buzz of the needle making him pant. Shit, as hot as this was, MJ was gonna be the illustrated fucking man. He could sign his name after he was done. “My Precious.” Hell, yeah.

  The shading turned out to be easier than he’d thought, because the motion didn’t have to be as precise. It took no time at all.

  “Damn. You do good work.”

  “Not bad for a beginner, huh?” He’d practiced a hell of a lot on pig parts, which had grossed him out some.

  “It fits in with all the others. It’s your mark.”

  “Yeah.” Wiping the last of the blood and ink away, Sonny smoothed his gloved fingers over the work. “Oh, Jesus.”

  MJ’s groan was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Then MJ reached down, started stroking his own cock, just a little.

  “Gotta clean you up.” No germs. Germs bad. Sonny got the spray bottle, the plastic. His hands were shaking like leaves.

  “This is my favorite fucking part.” MJ held still, panting for it.

  “Yeah? Which part is that?” His body was screaming, but Sonny took his time cleaning up, making MJ feel it, admiring his work. “You want to see?”

  “Yes.” MJ’s cock bobbed in front of him, the man going for the little head, looking hard. “Oh. Oh, damn, Sonny.”

  “Yeah? Good?” Hell, MJ was the expert, here. He was the one with all the ink. What if he thought it sucked?

  MJ groaned, fingers brushing the edge of the ink. Jesus Christ, those heavy balls drew up, his Precious fixin’ to shoot, just like that.

  “You like it.” Now he wasn’t asking. He was gonna just take. Sonny moved up and grabbed MJ’s cock, pulled hard at it.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Your fucking mark. Sonny.” MJ’s head fell back, tanned throat working.

  “Mine. Just like I’m yours. Goddamn, Precious. So good.” That fine skin felt so hot against him, MJ’s cock pushing through his hand.

  “Want you to fuck me. Want to flip this motherfucking place upside down from doing each other so hard.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Precious. Now.” Sonny slid to his knees, getting MJ turned so he could slide his lips down the crack of that amazing ass, then lick at MJ’s hole.

  That scream made his toes curl, made his lower belly ache like he’d been whacked. Fuck, yes. Never letting anyone ink his fine son of a bitch again. Never. Only him. He would put the needle to MJ anytime the man asked. He licked, pressing his tongue in, really getting MJ wet.

  He could hear those cries, getting higher and higher, louder, MJ shaking around him. Sonny knew he’d have to hurry or MJ would come. Of course, he fully expected MJ to come when he pushed his cock in, then get it up and come again.

  There were benefits to that whole fucking a stud thing. Really.

  MJ snarled, thighs going tight. “Hurry the fuck up, Sunshine.”

  “Coming. I’m ready.” No fingers required. MJ was ready for him. Sonny pulled MJ down instead of standing up, letting the man slide right onto his lap. MJ was slick as anything, and he filled that tight little hole up, his Precious taking him in. Grunting, Sonny pulled down on MJ’s hips and pushed up with his, pressing in deep. A low groan poured from him, his hands shaking.

  “Damn. Damn, Sunshine.” He could feel MJ fucking rippling all around him, muscles fluttering.

  “Dreamed of this. Just like this. Come on, Precious.” He reached around for MJ’s cock again, and his hand closed tight.

  Heat poured out of MJ on that first touch, MJ squeezing him like a fist. A cry ripped out of him, and Sonny had to remind himself not to bite MJ’s shoulder. No fucking up his work. He bent close and stared, though, knowing how fucking hot it felt, loving how it looked. He got MJ moving again, not letting them rest, needing more. He blew on the tattoo, just like MJ’d done to him, chuckling a little. Oh fuck. That made MJ’s body do amazing fucking things.

  Yum.

  “Fucking hot. Really fucking hot, MJ.” He was… well. Sonny figured he might just explode.

  “Uh-huh.” MJ started bouncing again, sliding and moving on his prick.

  Fuck. Every hard muscle in MJ’s body flexed, showing off under that tanned skin, and Sonny was just fascinated. He started touching, one hand staying on MJ’s cock. MJ’s head fell forward, too-damned-long blond hair sticking to the nape of his neck.

  Sonny nuzzled in, moaning when the motion drove him deeper inside MJ’s body. Yeah. They rocked like that again, both of them grunting.

  “I. Goddamn. Sonny.” Uh-huh. God fucking damn.

  “Love how you feel. Did I mention I love my ink on you?” They were gonna go until they fell over. He could tell. Boom.

  “Uh-huh. So fucking hot.” MJ squeezed him, almost too hard.

  “MJ!” Panting, humping, Sonny rode out the squeeze, hoping his muscles wouldn’t lock up that way and cramp. Jesus.

  “Going to have you under my fucking skin forever.” The words were as serious as anything he’d ever heard. Ever.

  “You already did. Now we just have proof.” Groaning, Sonny moved faster, his need riding up and down his spine.

  “Uh-huh.” MJ’s hands creaked, those fingers fisted so hard.

  “Fuck. Fuck, Precious. I can’t hold on. Gonna.” He just…. Fucking A. He came so hard his teeth rattled in his head, every muscle in his body vibrating with it.

 
“Christ.” That was just enough to scour a man and leave him dead on the side of the road. All he could do was lean.

  MJ nodded, chuckling breathlessly. “Shit. That was better than Singapore and Lisbon all together.”

  “Yeah? One day you’re gonna tell me about Singapore, you know?” Of course, after what he’d learned about MJ’s life in the last, oh, six months, he might have exceeded his limit.

  “One day. Not today. Today’s all yours.”

  “That’s just the way I like it, Precious.” He liked all the parts. “Wanna do it again? Not the ink, the fucking.”

  “Fuck yes. Over and over.” MJ turned, those blue eyes fierce. “The ink too. This won’t be the last time.”

  “No. No one but me from now on.” They had to get the matching ones first, though. That was the most important part.

  “Yeah. Yeah.” MJ nodded, rubbed, both of them sweaty and slick as fuck. “Shower?”

  “Yeah. We’ll get all cleaned up so we can go to bed and do it again.” And again and again, if he had his way.

  Some days were just better than others.

  Today had to be one of the best.

  Chapter Fourteen

  HE WOKE up in the middle of the night, eyes flying open. What the fuck?

  MJ slipped out of the bed, rolling his shoulder a little, the healing flesh itching and a little raw.

  Okay.

  Okay, what was up?

  He grabbed his piece, staying away from the windows, listening for the sounds that were supposed to be outside. The sounds that weren’t. He prowled the little cottage, head tilted, trying to hear anything that might have caused him to wake up all restless. Sonny was still snoring away in the bedroom.

  Okay, whatever it was, it wasn’t inside. He slipped on his flip-flops and headed for the back door. The wind was blowing, the clouds coming in over the ocean. He managed to skirt the perimeter, make sure no one was right on them, before Sonny slipped out, a darker shadow in the shadows, gun in hand. “Precious?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, nostrils flaring. What the fuck woke him?

  “You okay?” Sonny’s voice barely carried, and the man kept moving, not making a still target.