Road Trip, Volume 2

by BA Tortuga

  Their bellies slapped together, almost fucking stinging him. “Horny bastard.”

  “Mine.” Horny, growly, and damned ready to get over himself.

  “Yeah? Prove it.” MJ leaned in, bit his bottom lip but good.

  Moaning, he pushed MJ right down on the deck, covering that tanned body with his own. Goddamn, that was fine, hot as hell, his cock pushing down against MJ’s hip.

  “Fuck me.” It wasn’t a question; it was a goddamn demand.

  “Yeah. Yeah, Precious.” MJ’s head smacked against the deck when Sonny pushed him again, sliding back to lift those lean hips in the air. He got a good, hard look at all that tanned skin, the black ink, the rippled belly. All his. Then he bent and spread MJ wide, licking at the tight hole, his face nudging those heavy balls. Everything. He needed everything. Now.

  MJ’s heels dug into his shoulder blades, MJ pushing into him, taking all he wanted to give. The heat and musk made him dizzy, and the taste of his MJ was addictive. He could almost forget everything else. Almost. Good thing for MJ that he had focus. When he had MJ good and wet, he slid two fingers into that hot body, opening MJ for his cock, getting the man ready for him. He wasn’t gonna go easy.

  “Yours, yeah? Come on. I won’t break.” No. No, MJ took everything he’d give.

  Sonny pushed his fingers in and out, making sure MJ was ready. Then he backed off, getting his other hand good and wet with spit to slick himself up. “You ready, Precious?”

  “You know it, Sunshine. Do it like you mean it.”

  Pulling MJ on his thighs, Sonny muscled up, the tip of his cock pushing, demanding entrance. He could feel MJ bear down and open for him, so he slammed right in, needing to claim.

  Oh, fuck him raw. That was the most perfect fucking place on earth. Sonny moaned, his hips starting to move in hard, short thrusts, pushing his cock in and out. He bent and kissed MJ hard, bending the man in half. MJ was right with him, bucking and riding, ass working his prick like a fist.

  “MJ. Goddamn.” There was no way they were rocking the boat, big as it was, but it sure felt like it. Hell, yes.

  “Yeah. Yeah, more. Come on, I want all of you.” Demanding fucker.

  Good thing he could give it up like no one else. Sonny pushed harder, holding MJ’s hips, smacking against that tight ass like nothing going. They were gonna set the motherfucking boat on fire. Either that or they were working toward the best orgasms since he’d tattooed MJ.

  Oh, ink.

  Sonny moaned, reaching up to trace MJ’s tattoos, his fingers knowing the lines by heart. God, that man. “Make me crazy, Precious.”

  “Good. I like you crazy. Oh. Oh, fuck. Sonny. Right there.”

  “Yeah.” He knew he’d hit the right spot, even without MJ telling him all about it. MJ’s arms and legs had gone tight, like someone had applied an electrical current to them. He hit it again, and MJ’s eyes rolled like thrown dice.

  “So fucking hot, MJ. So fucking mine.” He stroked and thrust, his hips hammering, his cock about to just explode.

  “Yes. My motherfucking hero.” MJ’s grin was wild, so fucking happy.

  “Yours.” He bent and kissed that beautiful bastard again, until blood ran, until they were both panting, gasping.

  “My cock. Fuck, Sonny.” He had to laugh at that, MJ being so far gone he couldn’t jack himself off.

  “I got you.” Sonny moved one sweat-slick hand, reaching between them to grab MJ’s prick, his hand closing tight. “This what you want, Precious?”

  MJ arched, the move so fast he swore he could hear bones crack, and spunk poured over his hand. “Fuck, yes!”

  Sonny watched, gritting his teeth and holding back so he could see it all. He didn’t let ’er rip until MJ went lax under him, panting hard. Only then did Sonny come like the proverbial ton of bricks.

  One hand cupped his jaw, MJ blinking, trying to focus for him. “Fuck. Good.”

  “You know it.” They did fuck good. Sonny chuckled, shaking his head and easing down on top of MJ. MJ wrapped around him, squeezed the breath out of him. “Ooph.” Sonny bit at the skin of MJ’s neck. “I’m good, Precious.” Until he met this other guy face-to-face, anyway.

  “Good. I can’t wait to introduce you to Cowboy. You’ll like him.” MJ was blinking a little, winding down.

  “You think?” He didn’t think so at all. Cowboy. Babe.

  “Yeah. He’s a stud. Has great scars. I’ll have to get him to tell you about Singapore….”

  Oh, the fucker. He’d been tantalizing Sonny with the Singapore story for how long, and Cowboy had been there? Sonny was starting to get pissed.

  MJ’s hand slid down his spine, petting some. “Shh. I never fucked him. Never even kissed him, that I can remember.”

  “Well….” Hell, he’d never been this jealous, even of the damned tattoo artist that MJ had told him about, the one he used to fuck after getting ink.

  “He’s a friend. You’re… Sonny.” Like that explained anything.

  “So, I’m not your friend?” Sonny was grinning now, though, shaking his head at the weirdness of it all.

  “You’re mine.”

  “I am.” Solid as a rock and one hundred percent MJ’s. That was him. “Want to wait to shove off for another half hour, go do it all over again?”

  “Fuck, yes.” That grin went the rest of the way to making things okay.

  Sonny hoisted his sticky self up off the deck and lifted MJ into an across-the-shoulder carry. “Good. Because I could ruin you for life. Right now.”

  MJ snorted, stretched. “Naw, you’d get bored.”

  “I would.” He felt up that fine ass, feeling the heat he’d left there, just from friction. From the pure, raw violence of how much he wanted this man. MJ’s cock actually jerked against him. Impressive. Little surfer horndog. “You’re wanting again. Goddamn, Precious. You’re something else.”

  “Consider it a talent, Sunshine. Explosions and long, hard fucks.”

  “I know how talented you are, MJ.” No babe there. Just Precious. Just his. Sonny dumped MJ on the padded bench right behind the cockpit, unable to make it down below. Then he mashed his mouth against MJ’s, thinking how this was the only man he’d ever liked kissing.

  MJ opened up to him, tongue pushing against him, tasting him like nothing going.

  He traced MJ’s lips with his own tongue, his hands finding MJ’s chest, thumbs working the tiny nipples. They were hard for him, drawn up tight and hot. MJ’s hands were on his scalp, digging in a little, tilting his head. The kiss went deeper, Sonny fucking MJ’s mouth with his tongue. The taste just exploded through him, all sunshine and lemon, all his.

  His hands were tangled up in that too-long hair, tugging MJ just a bit, moving the man this way and that.

  When they finally came up for air, they grinned crazily at each other, both of them panting. “Want you, Precious.”

  “Got me.” MJ grabbed his ass and squeezed but hard.

  “Yeah. Wanna ride.” He always gave as good as he got with MJ. Always.

  “Yeah. Turn around.” MJ stood him up, turned him, and bit the top of his ass but good.

  That sent him up on tiptoe, his whole body shuddering. Jesus, that hurt so fucking good. “Again.”

  “Pushy redneck.” He got another bite, this one farther down.

  “You know it. Jesus, that’s good.” His legs shook a little, his breath hitching in his chest.

  “Mm-hmm. Spread for me.” MJ’s tongue slid down his crack, teasing the hell out of him. Sonny pushed his legs wide, bracing himself, because he knew what was coming. Only the hottest mouth ever. He got it too. MJ licking him, that tongue designed to do nothing but make him a blithering idiot.

  It was working. Goddamn. He pushed in return, his back arching, his hips rocking back and forth. More. That tongue worked him like….

  Like….

  Like something amazing that he couldn’t fucking think of because MJ was licking and sucking and rimming his ass.

  All
he could do was gyrate and cuss a little and try to pretend that he wasn’t going to explode. Boom. Sonny fish food. Chum.

  Fuck, that was sorta gross.

  MJ slapped his ass hard, making him jerk. “Focus, asshole.”

  “Fuck me, damn it.” That would make him focus, make him zero in like a fucking laser.

  “You said you were going to ride.” MJ pulled away, sprawled out on the bench.

  “Asshole.” He was ready, though. So ready. He climbed up on the bench, straddling MJ’s thighs, inching up until he was over MJ’s cock. “Now?”

  MJ shifted, cock rubbing against his hole, teasing. “Now is good for me.”

  “Then we do it now.” Sonny reached back and steadied MJ’s cock before sinking down on it. MJ’s tongue had done its job, making him wet, open, and ready.

  MJ stilled, moaning long and low, letting him set the pace. His skin felt like it was about to catch fire, and his ass was screaming, but Sonny pushed right down, his butt meeting MJ’s hips with a smack. MJ’s eyes stared up at him, not a bit of cold there. “You’ll feel me tomorrow.”

  “I will.” He reached up with one hand, grabbed the hair at the back of MJ’s head, and pulled the man up for a kiss. Goddamn, he was an addict.

  “Beautiful motherfucker.” He heard the words before their lips crashed together.

  The ride got rough after that, Sonny bouncing up and down, the muscles in his thighs protesting like crazy. MJ pulled him down, drove into him like there was no tomorrow. They slapped together on every thrust, and Sonny could feel bruises rising up. He grinned against MJ’s mouth, knowing that was the best kind of sex on earth.

  MJ bit his lip, hard, tugging on it, making him groan.

  Bearing down, Sonny took more in, took MJ all the way to the root, his moans almost one continuous sound. His head fell back, the sun all but blinding him. MJ’s hands moved him, up and down, driving him on that fat prick, filling him up to the top.

  “MJ. Oh. fuck. So full.” He was stretched to the damned limit.

  “Mmm. Good.” MJ grabbed his head, pulled him down so he could see those blue eyes, serious as death. “Don’t think for a second I’d give this up, man. You’re mine.”

  “Yours.” Sonny watched those pretty eyes, stared right into them when he came. Without even touching his cock.

  MJ reached down, touched the too-fucking-sensitive-for-words tip of his cock, then licked his fingers clean.

  “Fuck. Fuck, MJ.” His body clamped down, the muscles along his belly clenching tight.

  “Yeah.” MJ lost focus, bucking up hard a couple times before he felt heat filling him up.

  Sonny held on, the ride bumpy at the end, almost throwing him off. He wasn’t letting go, though. No, sir. MJ finally eased down, humming nice and low. Oh, yeah. Somebody was feeling good.

  Hell, so was he. They could rest a bit, and then he might even be willing to get moving.

  Maybe.

  If MJ promised not to call that Cowboy guy babe anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ENGLAND WAS cold.

  Like really cold.

  Paddy stood at the window and stared out into the street, watching about a zillion people, all wearing the same black coat, trudge through the rain. It was weird. At home—and California was still home, even after all this time—which, had it been that long? A few months? Maybe a year? Everything had crunched together in his head somehow. There was before Neil. Before Boomer and the kidnapping. Before….

  His brain cringed away from the thought of that… that man with the red line across his throat, the sound the head made as it fell on the wooden boards in that horrible little shack thing. The boats.

  He hated boats.

  Hated them.

  Hated even more that MJ seemed to think that somehow he was involved with something—someone or someones or whatever—that would cut somebody’s head off in a shack, because he wasn’t that kind of person and….

  Stop it.

  Stop it, Padraic.

  You stop it right now.

  They weren’t on the boat, and even if they weren’t in France, which sucked because Neil (his Neil, his lover, his heart, who was having a nightmare right now, a terrible nightmare, but he didn’t know that, he couldn’t know that) loved it there and only tolerated London, they were safe and hidden and he could sit and stare at the rain and watch.

  All day if he wanted to.

  Neil moaned, just a little, and now he could say he’d heard enough, not just something normal, not a plain old dream, and he could go wake Neil up. Go help him shake the nightmare loose. “Neil. Neil, wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s raining outside again. We could go get food, if you want. Roast.”

  Neil popped up violently, hands flailing out, and when those pretty gray eyes opened, they held only blind fear. “No. No, no, no.”

  “Okay. Okay, Neil.” He grabbed hold of Neil, shaking him but good. “Stop it. You stop it right now. We’re safe.”

  Please God.

  Please.

  Neil turned to face him, hands clutching at his arms. “Paddy?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” He looked right into Neil’s eyes. “We’re okay.”

  “Oh, dear God. Good.” Neil hugged him, moving so suddenly that it made him jump.

  Maybe they should go again.

  Maybe they could go to Africa or something.

  Paddy held on tight, squeezing, giving Neil something to cling to.

  “Oh. Padraic.” Poor Neil sounded blown, his voice hoarse, and his skin was all clammy and goose bumpy.

  “Yes.” He wished he could say he’d never been so worried, but it would be a lie. It had been worse.

  It’ll be worse again, Padraic.

  Where did that come from?

  “Love. Tighter. I need to feel you. I need to know you’re here.”

  “I’m here. I swear. Should we pack? Go?” He squeezed hard enough his muscles shook.

  “We should. We… I must get you away.”

  “Then let’s go. Come on. Get up.” Okay. Okay, moving. He could handle that. Paddy hurried to the closet, started grabbing suitcases and bags.

  “It won’t be tonight, love. Not… not yet. Sit a moment.” Those hands reached for him, and he couldn’t not go.

  He reached for Neil, that shame hitting him again, right between the shoulders. He’d done this. He’d brought this onto Neil somehow.

  Neil laughed a bit, the sound hitching in that slender chest. “Oh, love, I would do it all over again to have you.”

  “Shh. Shh, now. You had a bad dream. That’s all. When you’re good and awake, we’ll pack and go.”

  “Yes. We’ll have some tea and eggs, and we’ll make a plan.” Neil always wanted tea when he was trying to think.

  “Okay. You know I have tea making down to an art.” One that was even good enough for an Englishman.

  “So you do.” Kissing his jaw, Neil sank back down against him, the shaking almost gone.

  “It’ll be okay, Neil. I swear. I’ll help to make it okay.”

  “You will, love. I know you will. Now, let’s have that tea.” Scooting to the edge of the bed, Neil got up and hugged him hard.

  He kissed Neil’s forehead, nodded. “I’ll get the kettle on.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  COWBOY LOVED the beach. Oh, not as much as MJ did. That man’s love for the water was unreal. He liked it, though. The sun, the sand, the lack of bullets whizzing overhead. Bullets tended to find him more at seedy motels and in jungles and shit. Maybe Afghanistan.

  “You ever been to Afghanistan, Doc?”

  “No. No, I’ve been all over the US and Mexico, the UK, and to the Bahamas, once. You?” Duncan was sitting, legs curled up under him, face shadowed under a ball cap.

  “Yeah. It’s rough country.” Rough, with lots of native bandits with big firearms….

  “I haven’t explored much roughness, I guess.”

  “No? Well, you might have plenty of chance.” They
’d gotten rid of the transmitter, and so far no one had shown up on their ass, but Cowboy knew it wouldn’t be long.

  He got a chuckle. “Woo? I’m not the boy you want with you in a fight.”

  “I think you might surprise yourself, Doc.” The man had certainly surprised him, that first time. Well, and every time since.

  Duncan lifted his face to the sun, seeming to soak it in. Maybe he did. Solar-powered berserker. The thought made Cowboy grin.

  “You look happy.” Duncan had pretty fucking eyes, so dark.

  “Huh? I like the beach. You look good on it too. Sun suits you.” Lord, he was getting soft. Or hard. Whatever.

  “I feel like it’s been forever since I was outside.”

  “It probably has been.” Whether he knew it or not, the Doc had been strictly controlled. Cowboy would bank on it.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Doc finally uncurled, sorta like a lizard, basking. Now that was more like it. Durn pretty.

  Cowboy moved a little closer. A teeny bit. He wanted to feel the heat from Duncan’s skin. Duncan shifted as he did—closer, not away. Reaching out, he put one hand on Duncan’s leg, thumb rubbing all along that fine skin. “How do you feel about boats?”

  “Boats? I went on a cruise once. It was nice.”

  “Well, we might be taking a little cruise soon.” He might have mentioned that before, but with the Doc, things bore repeating, depending on his frame of mind.

  Duncan’s legs spread a little more, let him in, easy as that. “Where to?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We’ll cross that gangplank when we come to it, huh?” He didn’t want to know where they’d go, actually, so he couldn’t give MJ up if something happened.

  “This is very… random for me. My life tends to be structured.”

  “Well, I can give you a schedule, Doc.” Grinning, letting the evil show a little, he petted Duncan’s belly. “Spanking at ten. Sucking at noon.”

  “Shootings at three? Kidnappings at five?” Those wicked smart eyes flashed back at him, proving he wasn’t the only one with a little evil in him. “Does the fucking come before or after the impromptu surgery?”