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Road Trip, Volume 2

Page 34

by BA Tortuga

“I’m fucking wigged-out, dude. Way, way down the rabbit hole.”

  “No shit? Let me tell you, Precious. I feel like I ate the caterpillar and found out he was a tequila worm.” Bathroom. Food. Sleep. Beat up Cowboy.

  “Exactly.” He got a quick, quirky grin. “And given that, right now, you’re the dude who seems to have the wealth of information and you feel that way? That’s fairly horked.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly the smiling psycho I know and love, Precious. It puts me off my game.”

  “Good to know.” MJ turned, headed for the bathroom.

  That left him to wonder if there was anything in there that MJ could use to blow up a yacht.

  Sonny clenched his fists and tried not to punch a hole in the fiberglass walls. Instead he climbed into the galley, intent on playing June Cleaver. With chest hair and fewer crinolines.

  Cowboy was in there, making a grilled cheese. “How is he?”

  “Ready to blow up the boat.” Rolling his shoulders, Sonny listened to his neck pop like a champagne cork.

  “Want me to stop him?”

  “Huh? Nah. He won’t ruin his only form of transport. He was going on about how he could drive a boat.” He popped the fridge, pulled out a beer and the grapefruit juice. “He’ll probably make a taser.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything in there to create a taser with. I went through the drawers and medicine cabinet.” Duncan wandered over, took one of the sandwiches. “He stopped screaming. That’s good, right?”

  “That’s good, right.” He thought. It was harder to tell MJ’s pain level when he was all cold lizard-brain man.

  “You avoid him, Doc, if you see him.” Cowboy’s voice was serious, flat. “He’s like a hurt wolf right now, not a bit tame.”

  “Yeah.” Sonny clapped Duncan on the back. “Just toss him a steak and back away slowly.”

  Duncan chuckled. “I can do that.”

  They all hushed as MJ’s feet passed by the little long window that was up high in the galley. The bottoms were crisscrossed with healing scars, the soles yellow and green and an ugly purple.

  “What… what the fuck does that?” Duncan sounded confused as fuck.

  Cowboy arched an eyebrow. “Wire cages, honey.”

  “Jesus.”

  Sonny agreed. It turned his stomach to think of MJ in a cage. Sonny grabbed the juice and his beer, as well as a sandwich, and headed up to find Precious.

  He found MJ wandering on deck, face up to the sun.

  Pausing a moment to admire, Sonny grinned, thinking how that hair had to go. Soon. “Got your juice.”

  “Gracias.” MJ nodded, leaning over the rail.

  “De nada, man.” The urge to kick MJ right in the ass shocked him a little. As did the urge to scream at the man. He ate his grilled cheese instead.

  MJ drank the juice, then started wandering. The fake tan just pissed him off.

  Jaime.

  Fucker.

  Right.

  They needed to get to a cove somewhere, someplace he could swim off the frustration. He couldn’t even fuck it out, not the way MJ was screaming earlier. That fight at the airport must have rearranged things.

  MJ headed to the rail, climbed up, stood there, balanced on those bruised feet.

  “You playing Titanic, Precious?” He kept it casual, not showing the worry.

  “Can I swim? Do I know how?”

  “What do you think?” He just wanted to test that water, see if MJ would try to remember. “I mean, I’ll tell you. But what do you think?”

  “I think I know how. I’m not scared to jump from here, so I must.”

  “There you go. You’re right. You can swim. You surf, actually.”

  “I surf. I… I learned….” MJ’s head tilted, lips quirking. “I learned from my dad….” He could see MJ’s muscles going tight, sweat popping out on the man’s upper lip.

  “Yeah? I can see that. Your momma don’t strike me as the physical type.” Just the weed type.

  “My dad.” MJ shook his head, turned a little green around the gills. “I…. My dad.”

  A little trickle of blood slipped out of MJ’s nose.

  “Shit!” Sonny moved fast, catching MJ as he dropped off the rail. “Christ, Precious. Just relax, huh.”

  Brilliant, redneck. Let the man think of his father, all torn up.

  MJ’s eyes were wide open, staring at him, focused as all get-out.

  “Precious. Please.” Please. Jesus, just come back to me.

  “Kill me. Do it now. Before they come back.”

  “No.” His hands gripped MJ’s upper arms, squeezing until he heard bones grind. “No. You’re not leaving me, you rotten bastard.”

  What else could he do? Sonny kissed MJ. Hard.

  MJ groaned, lips opening up, tongue pushing against his.

  Yes. Yes, they still spoke this language together. He didn’t want to hurt MJ for the world, but he needed to touch. To fucking feel. MJ’s hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging in.

  Sonny turned, sinking down on the bench that ran along under the rail. He pulled MJ down against him. Yeah. Fuck.

  He heard Cowboy and Duncan pass by, and MJ stiffened, but he wasn’t dealing with them right now. Right now, he needed to taste. Sonny just took the kiss back, pushing and pushing, making MJ forget anyone was there but him. Just him.

  One hand scooted up, fingers on his scalp, stroking his head, loving on him. The scratch and burn of it made him moan, made him think of a hot bath and MJ with a steady hand. Soon. Soon.

  For a second, MJ was there, right there in those bright eyes, loving him, desperate to get to him. He fucking saw it. He knew it.

  Jesus. He would give up anything for this man. Anything but MJ himself. He pushed his hand under MJ’s ass, pulling a little.

  MJ moaned, whimpered into his lips, but the sound wasn’t hurt. It was hungry.

  That, he understood. That, he knew. He loved the noises MJ made for him, loved how it took no time at all to be hard and horny and ready to go.

  MJ fucked his lips, hips rolling a little slower than their kiss.

  Sonny didn’t waste time talking. He didn’t pull or push too hard either. He just gave and took.

  MJ was right there with him, the kisses damn near drugging.

  They rocked, Sonny trying to keep it easy, hot but not hurty. That was a change that was just hard to take.

  MJ didn’t fight him, didn’t argue; the man just humped him, rocking and riding him.

  “Jesus.” Pulling in a breath when they broke apart, Sonny licked his lips, then MJ’s. “More.”

  “Yeah. You taste fucking good.” MJ groaned, tongue pushing between his lips.

  “Mmm-hmmm.” He shifted, got MJ more fully on his lap, rubbing up against the inked belly, the soft shorts.

  “Don’t stop.” That was an order he could fucking get behind, one hundred percent.

  “Not gonna. You tell me, though…. Tell me if I hurt.” That scream still echoed in his mind.

  “Mmm.” MJ nodded, pushing into the kiss.

  He reached between their bellies, trying not to press too hard, and pulled MJ’s cock out of the loose shorts.

  MJ wasn’t fully hard, not yet, but the man was getting there, was interested.

  It might take some time. Might be that MJ wouldn’t come for him, but they could touch. Enjoy. Love on each other.

  MJ turned his face up to the sun, throat working a little. “’S good. This. Now.”

  “More, huh?” Licking at MJ’s throat, Sonny moaned, pushing up with his hips, working the underside of MJ’s cock. It was incredibly sensitive just under the head.

  “Oh. Oh, fuck.” Mmm. Shuddering. Sonny liked how MJ liked him.

  “I got you, Precious. I always got you.” Hot. God, MJ’s skin was hot, and the sun felt damned good.

  “You smell so good, man. So fine.”

  “Yeah? You smell like you. Almost.” The medicinal smell was fading. The hair still smelled funky.

/>   He hated it. The dark, the fake.

  It would wait. When he closed his eyes, this was his MJ. He smelled right now. Felt right. Made the right noises. Mostly.

  MJ chuckled, the sound like broken glass. “Almost. You are a picky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

  “I know what I like.” He opened his eyes again, staring into those bright blue eyes. “You know you got a way to go, Precious. This is not news.”

  “Things are incredibly cracked.”

  “Good thing I’m like superglue, babe.” He never thought it would be so hard not to say MJ.

  That laugh filled the air, ringing out a bit before MJ stopped, winced, panted a little.

  “Shh. Breathe, huh? We can just make each other feel good.” He pushed his hand in a slow circle, picking up MJ’s balls and rolling them, making it gentle. Easy.

  “Oh.” There was a new scar on the sac, right there under his fingers, and damn it, he was going to kill them all. Make them pay. He didn’t let that show in his touch, though. No, sir. His fingers didn’t even stutter. He was a damned classy redneck, after all. Sonny wanted to kiss it better. Lick it. Love on it.

  He turned MJ, eased the man down onto the bench. It felt fucking fine that MJ let him do this, trusted his ass.

  Spreading MJ’s thighs, Sonny bent and nosed the mostly hard cock aside, mourning the loss of some of that surfer muscle tone. “Need to get out and work out more, Precious.”

  “I couldn’t before. I….” MJ frowned a little, groaned. “I was in a box.”

  “No more boxes.” No. No more. Just sun and sand and eventually blowing those assholes to kingdom come. He licked that scar, rubbing it gently with his tongue.

  “Oh, fuck yeah.” MJ spread for him, let him right in, and he almost hooted with it. MJ knew him, deep down. He brushed his fingers over MJ’s hole, testing the nerve endings, shivering when MJ moaned. He licked those heavy balls back and forth, glad as hell that they were intact.

  “I don’t bottom, do I?” MJ moaned.

  “You don’t for anyone but me. It works both ways.” That still gave him a savage sort of satisfaction.

  “Oh, good.” MJ chuckled. “That feels fucking amazing.”

  “Yeah? I like it too.” He pushed a little, teasing them both. Felt like heaven to him, that was for damned sure.

  MJ couldn’t move like normal, wasn’t all slinky yoga bendy boy, but it was still real. Still his. Still so frigging hot. That was okay. He wasn’t gonna push it. Oh fuck, who was he kidding? He was going to push MJ as hard as he could.

  MJ bore down on his fingers, eyes staring down at him. “Focus.”

  His head jerked, and he stared right back. “Okay. Okay, Precious. I’ve got it.”

  His fingers slid deep inside MJ’s body.

  He knew what MJ needed, and he gave it, straight-up and steady. MJ moved, rode his touch like nothing going.

  Licking, humming, Sonny bent back to his task, getting MJ’s balls good and wet. Then he moved up and sucked that cock right in.

  The cry that rang out was fine, damn fine, and his MJ was hard now, wasn’t he? Hard between his lips.

  Sonny went down as far as he could, then bobbed back up, licking at the slit, wanting MJ’s flavor. Jesus. Yes.

  MJ twisted, bucked up into his mouth in careful, slow humping motions.

  That worked. They would get to the urgency later. When MJ was well. For now he would just slide his fingers in and out, let MJ take his mouth.

  “Don’t stop. I want this.” He knew that.

  “Mmm.” No. No, he wouldn’t stop. He was going to suck until MJ came for him, until he heard the good kind of scream.

  MJ rode it, cock leaking for him, those sounds needing him, familiar.

  He let his tongue pick up all the drops, let his nose take in MJ’s scent. Here it was clear, undiluted. Perfect.

  One hand landed on his head, fingers pushing against his scalp, digging in.

  Oh, yeah. Please. He needed that pressure, needed to know MJ was willing to demand.

  The pressure got heavier, more firm, MJ groaning.

  The reward for that? Yeah. More suction, another finger, everything in him pushing MJ to come.

  “Fuck. Fuck, Sonny. Close….” Yeah. Close and his and…. Yeah.

  Every time MJ said his name without thinking it, without knowing he did it… it made Sonny’s cock throb. He sucked harder, needing more.

  “More. Gonna…. Oh, Sunshine….” Spunk poured into his mouth, MJ’s prick throbbing.

  Closing his eyes, Sonny drank it down, loving the heat, the bitterness. His. His MJ.

  MJ groaned, legs shivering against him, fingers restless on his scalp.

  “Shh.” He pulled back, kissing the tip of MJ’s cock. “I got you. You can rest a bit now, yeah? In the sun.”

  “Sun. Right. I think… I think I missed you. If I didn’t, I should’ve, man.”

  “I’ll just have faith that you knew, Precious. Somewhere.” Sonny rested his head against MJ’s thigh, panting a little.

  MJ patted his head once, then bang, MJ was sleeping, hard.

  Maybe he should go ask Cowboy for a hand job. That would at least get him in a fight with puffy Duncan.

  Chapter Ten

  HE WOKE with a start, alone outside in the dark. He listened, but he didn’t hear much. Someone was inside, and he thought maybe he heard a snore somewhere. Ignoring the aches in his chest, he slipped to his feet, climbed up to the wheelhouse. He needed to know where they were, where they were headed.

  The wheelhouse wasn’t locked, proving they weren’t scared of him, weren’t worried. Good to know. People that weren’t scared were sloppy. He checked the headings. Jamaica. Okay. He could get a freighter from there, head toward Haiti for a few weeks, then up to the upper northwest to do some recon. He needed supplies.

  Where was the laptop?

  Why did he know there should be one?

  That thought made the base of his skull hurt, so he stopped thinking it.

  Focus.

  He needed to check in, needed supplies, needed to get on land and get moving.

  He had a job to do.

  “You fixing to make a mess, Jay-Jay?” That wasn’t Sonny. That slow drawl was… Texas. Deep West Texas. How he knew, well, he had no idea, but he knew that just like he knew this man was dangerous.

  He looked the man over, sized him up. This one was more than dangerous; this one was like him. “I don’t intend to, not here.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I’d hate to have to shoot you.” The light-colored eyes twinkled in the low light. “Your man is asleep. I poked his ass with a needle before he lost it.”

  “That makes him sick.” How did he know that? He shrugged it off. “And I wouldn’t try shooting me. It won’t go well.”

  He wasn’t sure he could even be shot, honestly. He was a ghost.

  It might be interesting to try.

  “Does it? Like in puke sick or rant-and-rave looney?” That sleek head tilted. “And I don’t want to have to shoot you, Jay-Jay. I meant it when I said I’d hate to.”

  “He tosses chunks. Are you going to let me go in Montego Bay?” It seemed a reasonable question.

  “Honey, we’re not holding you prisoner.”

  “Just checking. You never know.” Okay, then. That took care of that. He turned back to the navigator, making his plan. He was supposed to….

  Kill them all, retrieve the scientist, deliver the package. Then we’re done with you.

  The words were clear, ringing in his head.

  “No, I guess you never do. You all right? Not gonna blow up the wheelhouse?”

  “Is there a good lifeboat?” At the man’s head shake, he grinned. “Then I suppose not. Are there supplies onboard?”

  “There are. Food’s in the galley. Med stuff is in the main cabin.” He got a hard look. “Weapons are discouraged.”

  “Then you’ll need to make extra sure you don’t shoot me. Someone might notice.” Yes, but where
were the detonators? The plastique? In the belly of the ship?

  “You should have some food, Jay-Jay.” There was something about the way the guy stood that told him not to believe the deceptively casual words.

  A tingle grew at the base of his neck, and he positioned himself to fight.

  “Now, don’t get all het up.” Those lean hands flexed, the guy getting ready to go.

  “You’re the one posturing, man. I have no issues with you that I know of.”

  “You have plans.” The sound of retching came from nearby, and they both turned to see Sonny hanging over the rail.

  He frowned, moving to Sonny. “Get me a cold cloth.” He put one hand on the small of the man’s back. “Breathe.”

  The other guy disappeared, then came back to hand him a cold cloth. Sonny was just heaving, green at the gills for all he was worth.

  “I have you.” He put the cloth on the back of Sonny’s neck, rubbed the man’s back, up and down, nice and slow. “Just breathe for me, yeah? We’ll get you into the shower in a minute.”

  “Ugnhk.” Yeah, that was a good sound. What was it about this guy that he would brave high-dollar grossness to help him out?

  The cowboy came back again, this time with a medicinal patch that got slapped on Sonny’s neck.

  “That’ll help.” He wiped Sonny down.

  “Thanks, Precious.” That voice always sounded like gravel in a blender, but now it was just blown out. Kinda sexy.

  “Shh. You’re okay.” He kissed Sonny’s shoulder.

  “No. ’M not.” Sonny horked again, but it was mostly dry heaving. What had worked before…. Cola?

  “I’ll be back.” He ran down into the galley, gathering a Sprite, adding some orange juice and ginger and….

  Stop it.

  Just stop this.

  Then he heard Sonny moan again, and he headed back out to the deck.

  “MJ?” Sonny peered at him, dark eyes bloodshot. “Where’d you go?”

  “Made you a drink.” He handed it over. “How’s your ankle?”

  Wait.

  What? Why in hell had he asked that?

  That got him a rough chuckle. “Fine this time around, Precious. Thank you for asking.”

  “Sorry. I…. How’s the drink?” Fuck. He…. This man made him crazy.

  Sonny took an experimental sip. “That’s not bad. Thanks.”

 

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