Road Trip, Volume 2

by BA Tortuga

  “Fuck. Fuck.” Sonny scrabbled at his shorts, pulling them down and away from his cock.

  “Yeah.” That was it. Just like that. The cloth slid down over his ass, catching around his knees, and Sonny licked his belly, biting at his hip bone.

  “Harder.” His fingers dug into Sonny’s scalp, demanding.

  “More.” Sonny bit him harder before moving on to the tip of his cock, licking at it, pushing him back and forth.

  He didn’t worry about Cowboy or the other guy. He just worried about those lips, those teeth on his cock. Pulling his hips up, Sonny licked at him, sucking him in and pulling with that amazing mouth. Oral motherfucker.

  MJ knew when to go with it too. Sucking. Fucking. Marking.

  “Precious.” Sonny popped off his cock, backed away just enough to yank MJ’s shorts all the way off.

  “Yeah. Yeah, Sonny. Come on.” He was ready. Now.

  “Just let me….” Sonny licked two fingers and pressed them against his hole, giving him a quick one-two to get him ready.

  “Fuck, yeah.” He pushed up on his elbows, bearing down on Sonny’s cock.

  “Yeah. Oh, Precious.” The sun beat down on them, made Sonny sweat for him, made everything hotter.

  “Yours. Do you fucking hear me?”

  “I hear. Jesus. Need you.” Sonny pushed in so hard that he thought it might split him in two.

  MJ grunted, breathed through it, let the stubborn son of a bitch in. Sonny gritted his teeth, thrusting in and out, hips moving like a piston. Fuck, the man was good, felt just right.

  “Mmm. Good. Harder. Now.” His ass was going to have deck burns. Could you get deck burns? He’d bet he could, the way his butt was trying to set the deck on fire. Sonny was giving him some serious friction. He slapped his hands on the deck, hauling his butt up a little. Sonny grunted, eyes rolling back in his head, that strong, tanned throat stretching out. The man was fine. So fine. Fine and broad-shouldered and hot and…. Yeah. Fuck. Yes.

  Harder and harder, Sonny pushed him, slamming inside him, making him shake. They were going to slide right off into the water, or hit the rail, or maybe just explode.

  Mmm. Explosions.

  That so worked for him.

  Sonny’s mouth crashed down on his, the kiss making him bleed. Focus, Precious. He could hear Sonny say it in his mind. In his mind. Rick. He needed to call…. Oh. Oh, fuck him. The edges of the world went fuzzy and gray.

  Cupping his chin, Sonny turned his face up, kissing him again and again. His fucking balls were going to explode. Any second.

  Sonny pulled back, those damned dark eyes hot on his, that mouth swollen and red. “More, Precious.”

  “Anything.” He pushed up on his elbows, forcing his ass down on that fat prick until his thighs screamed.

  “Christ!” Sonny grabbed MJ’s cock with one hand, moving so fast that their skin made obscene slapping sounds as it came together. “Oh, Jesus fuck.”

  “Now. Now. Sunshine. Fuck.” He screamed, heels slamming onto the deck.

  “Uhn!” Sonny’s whole body went rigid, that amazing fucking cock pushing so deep, so hard, that MJ shouted again, his entire frame shaking.

  Spunk sprayed over his belly, his chest, the world fading away. Sonny was heavy, almost limp on top of him when he came back down. Only the sweat and the press of Sonny’s chest against his as the man breathed gave away any signs of life.

  MJ would have done something—pat or pet or comfort, but damn.

  His fucking universe was tilty.

  “’S okay, Precious. I got you.” Sonny always knew.

  “Good. Keep me.” He was a little dopey. It’d be just his luck if Sonny started shooting Quaaludes out his cock.

  “Gonna.” Sonny planted a sloppy kiss on his neck. Maybe it was his ass, not Sonny’s cock.

  Or like a weird MJ-and-Sonny spunk chemical reaction.

  Super postfucking goofball downers.

  Something.

  COWBOY WOULD have stayed to watch. Hell, he would have made popcorn and enjoyed the show. Duncan had other plans. The man watched Sonny and MJ whack on each other for a few moments, mouth hanging open. Then he turned on his heel and headed below.

  Sighing, Cowboy unfolded from his comfy seat in the sun and followed, coming right up behind the Doc. “You okay?”

  “I’m on a boat with two insane monkey mouth breathers, I have a cut in my thigh, and I missed grading my midterms.”

  That was a damn fine growl.

  “Want me to look at that leg?” That was the easiest answer, he figured. Avoid the hard stuff.

  “No. Yes. Fuck, I don’t know.”

  “What’s the matter, Doc? That turn you on a little?” Hell, it had given Cowboy wood. There was something seriously primal about MJ and his new guy. Well, new to Cowboy.

  “What? Watching those two….” Oh, yeah. Somebody was revved.

  “Yeah. A lot of testosterone there. You know all about that, huh?” He pushed against Duncan a little, grinning.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.” Little bitch.

  “Uh-huh.” Cowboy reached around to press a hand to the front of Duncan’s pants. “Sure.” Oh, man, that pretty cock was full and hard, a little wet spot leaking through the thin shorts. “Nope. You didn’t think that was hot at all.”

  “Nope. Not a bit.”

  He did love a bad liar.

  “Then this must all be for me.” He pushed his hand down between the shorts and the skin, wrapping his fingers around Duncan’s cock. Oh, now. That was hot enough to brand. He fucking approved, dragging his fist up and then pushing down, making Duncan feel it. “I liked it, Doc. I liked how hot they were for each other. Made me think of how it feels when you fuck me.” Time to tease the bear.

  Duncan’s muscles rippled, cock bobbing hard. “I haven’t ever fucked you.”

  Cowboy blinked, leaning his chin on Duncan’s shoulder. “You sure about that?”

  “Pretty… I think… I….” Those muscles rippled again, stretching against his belly.

  “Huh. Well, you wanna try it?” That had to be the most fascinating thing ever, the dual personality.

  “I don’t, as a rule, but….” That low rumble was right under the surface, wanting out. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah? Not a top, huh?” He pulled Duncan around, stripping off the shorts, loving the whole naked and rippling vibe.

  “Labels are… limiting.” Duncan put his glasses aside, hands solid and hot where they landed.

  “Well, sure they are. Cowboy works for me, though.” He chuckled, changing his hold on Duncan to get closer.

  “I like Colby.” Duncan leaned into him, bringing them forehead to forehead. “Quite a bit.”

  “Do you? I got teased a lot about being like cheese.” He grinned, thinking about how that had kind of started his ass-kicking days.

  “Cheesy Cowboy Man, hmm?” Duncan did have him some fine damn eyes.

  “Mmm-hmm. It wasn’t pretty. Did you ever get, like, doughnut jokes?”

  “Highlander jokes. Lots of them.”

  “I bet. There can be only one.” He’d never even watched the show and he knew about that.

  “Uh-huh. There should have been only one. I loved the first movie.” Duncan’s hands opened his jeans, freed his cock.

  “The guy was French….” You couldn’t trust a French Scotsman. Oh, damn, that felt good. He pushed into Duncan’s hand, loving the heat.

  “Mm-hmm. Sean Connery was hot, though.”

  “Yeah.” Why were they talking about movies again? Duncan chuckled, fingers working his cock. “Uhn. Feels good. Damn.” He pushed his hips up, getting closer. Damn, but he liked Duncan either way—Prissy Prof or hulking protector.

  “It does. Smells good too.” Duncan started sliding down.

  “Yeah? Wonder how I taste?” He winked, grinned. Yeah.

  “I do. Wonder, that is.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to find out, Doc.” He put his hands on
Duncan’s shoulders and pushed a little.

  “Pushy bastard.” Duncan went easy, cheek brushing his body the whole way.

  “You know it. I like what I like.” He liked to get sucked, to watch a pretty mouth close around him and pull. He liked the look of smart professor staring up at him too. He thought that swollen lips from sucking his prick could only make it better. “Come on and suck me, Doc.” His cock rubbed against that fine mouth.

  Those sweet lips opened right up, tongue sliding over the tip of his cock, flicking at his slit.

  “Christ.” He did love the amazing and ridiculous idea of mouths on cocks. Goddamn.

  “Uh-uh. Duncan.” The Professor grinned, licked again.

  “Duncan.” He stroked the hair back off of Duncan’s forehead, watching as the man worked the head of his cock. A moan vibrated around the tip, the sound going right to his balls. “Duncan. That’s good. Real good.” His skin felt tight, his leg muscles like rocks. Those lips pushed down, throat swallowing hard around the head of his cock. Cowboy jerked and moaned, his hips rocking, his belly going tight. Goddamn, he wanted more.

  Of course, that was when Duncan eased up, let up on the pressure, teasing him.

  “Don’t, Duncan. Don’t mess with me. I need.” Surely the man could feel the heat pouring off his skin.

  Those lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, the suction right there, sudden and sharp. Shit. That was enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, to make his skin tingle. Jesus. Duncan was good. Duncan pulled and pulled, sucking and humming around his cock, tongue fucking his slit. That was what really got him. The fucking attention to detail. Duncan might not be able to remember fucking him, but the man did remember what he liked. Then the pressure went up and down, Duncan sucking, whimpering low.

  “Just like that, Doc. You’re doing so good.” His voice sounded blown, rough as broken glass.

  Doc went all the way down to the root, throat grasping at the tip. Cowboy grunted, his hips rocking and rolling, his hands on Duncan’s head. He was trying hard not to force it. Then Doc’s fingers slid up his thighs, pulling him into that hot mouth, over and over and over again. Gritting his teeth, Cowboy held on for as long as he could, the heat and wonder of it making him moan, hump, and need. Then he came, right into Duncan’s waiting mouth, hot and wet and almost painful.

  Duncan sucked and groaned, head bobbing, slurping at his cock. Fuck-a-doodle-doo. That might just be the death of him.

  That mouth cleaned him off, tongue sliding so easy.

  “Damn, Doc. Damn.” He petted that dark head, loved on Duncan.

  “Mm-hmm. Like how you taste.”

  “Good. ’Cause I hope to hell you’ll do it again.” And again and again.

  Duncan’s laugh fucking tickled his belly. “I’ll take it under consideration, Colby.”

  “Yeah? ’Cause I might be willing to ask nice. Real nice.”

  “Mmm.” Those pretty eyes shone up at him. “I need something, Colby.”

  “What’s that, Duncan?” He’d give whatever the man wanted, just to pay him back for making Cowboy feel so good.

  “Touch me.” Duncan leaned back, cock swollen, dark at the tip.

  “You know it.” He sank to the deck, his knees hitting hard. Then he reached down and grabbed Duncan’s prick, stroked nice and easy.

  “Oh.” Duncan’s head fell back, throat working, soft moans filling the air. Oh, yeah. Doc liked that.

  “Pretty.” He bent down and bit at Duncan’s neck a little, leaving a mark.

  “Uhn.” He wasn’t sure if that was an agreement or not. Didn’t matter. Not with Duncan pushing that thick cock through his hand, chest and belly hard and tight, muscles rippling. “More. Fuck.” Duncan groaned, ass humping faster, pushing harder.

  “Anything you want, Doc. Anything.” He’d do anything for this guy. It was kind of scary.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Yes.” He bent his head and took that kiss, tasting thoroughly. Damn. Oh, damn. Duncan’s lips tasted like him.

  Duncan opened up, cock sliding on his palm. He pushed his tongue into Duncan’s mouth, pressing his thumb against the slit of that fine cock. Sweet, hot man.

  It only took one or two more touches before Duncan was shooting, crying out into his mouth.

  Cowboy smiled, listening to Jay-Jay out on deck, yelling his head off. Looked like things were good all around.

  This whole boat thing had its plusses.

  Cowboy leaned his head against Duncan’s, hummed a little under his breath. Damn, that had been nice.

  “Better.” Duncan smiled for him, lips all fuck-swollen and sweet. “Much better.”

  “You know it. Still going to try to make me believe that you didn’t think MJ and redneck boy were hot?”

  “Until the end of time.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re something else, Doc.” He wasn’t sure what. But something.

  It worked for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE EMAIL came as he’d finished shoving the last shirt into a bag. Anonymous. That couldn’t be good, right? They were moving from Edinburgh to… somewhere. God, they’d moved ten times in two weeks, Neil pushing them and pushing them, not sleeping. Not letting him sleep.

  “Call. Now, Rick. Right now. Boomer.”

  “Boomer needs me to call him.” He looked over at Neil, snapped the laptop shut, a sick feeling in the pit of his belly. “I shouldn’t use the cell, right?”

  Neil looked up from the sheaf of papers he was looking at, brows drawing together. “No, love. No cell phones.”

  “He says now.”

  “Bloody hell. You go to the phone box downstairs, and I’ll pack.”

  “I’m done with everything but your clothes. Why don’t you finish up and meet me down there?” He put his duffel on his shoulder, grabbed his laptop. “We’ll walk to the train station, get some….” Well, sun was sort of improbable. “Air.”

  “Yes. Some foggy air.” Neil smiled at him, and he laughed. Yeah, the air in Scotland had this… heavy quality.

  “I’ll go down the road, there’s a whole bank of phones. Less easy to track.” He leaned over, kissed his lover quickly. “Don’t be too long. I’m starving.”

  “I promise. I’ll catch up soonest.” Neil hugged him tight for a moment, hands holding him a little when he pulled away.

  “Mmm. Okay. I’ll call and watch for you.” Love. He loved, so much.

  “I’ll be there.” Neil patted him on the ass, sending him on his way with the thought that he was loved dearly in return.

  Paddy hurried down the stairs and out onto the street. It was busy, which he thought was good. They’d blend in—so long as he didn’t open his mouth, that was. He kept himself small and pushed through the sea of coats. They did like their black coats around here.

  The phone bank seemed farther away than it had the day before, but then yesterday they’d only been going to the market, not moving on again.

  He missed France—even more than California, which was weird because he’d been there the longest.

  Paddy used a calling card to dial the number MJ left.

  “Rick?”

  “Hey, Boomer. I don’t have much time.” Overseas calls ate the minutes.

  “I know. Listen. Do you have a scar, down by your balls? Maybe under your arm? Something?”

  “What?” Boomer wasn’t making sense.

  “I’ve found something out. You might have a homing device implanted in you. You have to get it out, if you do.”

  “A what?” Where? Was it metal? Was it degrading?

  “A homing device. They can find you, Rick.”

  No. No fucking way. “Where is it? Where did you say to look again?”

  “Probably under your arm, in your leg. Mine was under my balls.” No. No, no, no. There was no way he could be the one leading someone to them. Could he? “This other guy had it at his groin. You have to get rid of it, Rick. You hear me?”

  “I do. I’ll get Neil to help
me. I…. They know where we are?”

  Neil.

  Neil.

  They know.

  “Get the damned chip out and hit the road, Rick.” Boomer’s voice warred with Neil’s tiny light in his head, a question mark making him smile.

  “Hitting the road now. We’re….” Something jarred him, hard, inside. “Neil?”

  “What? What’s wrong, Rick?”

  “Neil?” He dropped the phone, took one step before he hit his knees, pain blooming inside him.

  There was a great ringing inside his head, like a giant gong had been hit. It rippled and echoed, the sound of Neil’s voice loud-loud-loud.

  Then it was gone, and the silence made him violently ill.

  “Neil!”

  He gagged, the people taking a wide berth around him. Then he stood, stumbling forward, running. Neil.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Please, God. No.

  Somehow he made it back to their tiny rented room, hoping against hope that he would find Neil along the way, that his Brit would be coming to him. That it was all a mix-up.

  The door was open.

  There was blood.

  Blood.

  “Neil.”

  No.

  No.

  Neil was gone. There was a syringe lying on the floor and a bloody handprint on the doorframe….

  Okay.

  Okay.

  He could.

  He grabbed the cell phone from his pocket, dialed the number MJ had given him. Answer.

  Answer.

  “Sunshine’s Place. How can I help you?”

  Oh. Oh God, he knew that deep Southern voice.

  “They took Neil. There’s blood. He’s gone. Please, help me.”

  “Hold on.” He could hear the sound of the phone being passed from hand to hand. “It’s for you, Precious.”

  “’Lo?”

  “Boomer. They came. They got him.”

  “Dude. Rick, man. Run. Now.”

  “No. No, I need your help.” His mind was going a million miles a minute. “Drugs. There’s a handprint. They’ve got him.”

  “And they’re going to have you. Run, you little idiot.”

  “No!” He screamed the word into the phone. “You knew! You knew what they’d done to me and you let them find Neil!”