by A. E. Via
Michaels laughed coming to sit across from him in the matching love seat. It was a cozy apartment. Clean and well-lived in. It was very clear Linda took good care of him. He wondered briefly what it’d be like to grow old with someone, to be there with you in your final days. They should all be so lucky. But that kind of thing… that kind of love was rare. He wasn’t sure if he’d have or if he even deserved it.
“Judge and I are going to be getting on the road soon. I wanted to make sure to tell you that it was a pleasure meeting you and your wife.”
Judge Sr. smirked before he responded, “Linda’s not my wife. We’ve been together twenty-one years but I never remarried after I lost JJ’s mother.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.” Michaels clarified.
He waved a shaky hand dismissively. “That’s alright. I was a fool. It’s too late now though. My days are numbered. But, I know she’ll be right there till the end.”
Michaels was uncomfortable now. “That’s what’s most important right?”
Eyes exactly like Judge’s stared long and hard at him like he was seeing right through him. Michaels squirmed in his seat diverting his eyes away to something on the television.
“Yeah. That’s important. It’s important to JJ too, even though he won’t admit it to himself. He doesn’t want to be alone. No one does. He’s not going to be easy to catch, Austin.”
“Sir, um. I’m not sure -” Michaels rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to say. How’d he even know Michaels was gay? Nevertheless. He didn’t want to go there with Judge’s father. They weren’t a couple. Hell, they weren’t even a thing. Busting one nut on his ass didn’t give Judge claim to a damn thing. Besides they’d never work. Both of them had shitty attitudes and we’re pretty stuck in their ways.
“It’s alright.” Judge Sr. smiled in that way old people did when they knew they were right and couldn’t wait to prove the young fool wrong. “I’ll let you boys figure it out.”
“Figure what out.” Judge’s bass timbre slid up Michaels’ spine and vibrated his chest. He turned and saw him leaning in the doorway looking commanding and in control lazily chewing on that sugarcane. Looking as commanding as he did last night. Fuck. He couldn’t think about that right now. Couldn’t think of the seared hand print that had been left on his hip, or look too hard and see the red marks he’d left on Judge’s thick neck. He couldn’t think about last night at all because his soft well-worn jeans wouldn’t conceal his hard cock.
Michaels noticed Judge had ditched the leathers for all black fatigue pants and a jet black t-shirt. His gold bounty hunters star was back around his neck. Gone was the loving son, back was the cold, stubborn, heartless Judge that he’d come to know. “Nothing.” Michaels answered Judge. He turned back to Judge Sr. “Again, thank you for the hospitality.”
Judge Sr. held out his hand and it shook so bad he could barely hold it up. He saw the sadness in the old man’s eyes. “Parkinsons.” Michaels said softly, grasping Judge Sr.’s hands in both of his, holding it tight.
Judge Sr. solemnly nodded his head but he didn’t talk, maybe he couldn’t right now.
Michaels squeezed a little tighter and the man looked up at him in surprise. Like he appreciated Michaels not treating him like a fragile piece of China. “Take care, Sir.” He let his hand go slowly and turned to leave.
“Be safe out there, son.”
Michaels looked up at Judge as he was leaving. “I was talking to you, Austin.”
Michaels and Judge both turned to look at his father. “Yes, sir,” was all he could get out. His throat was tight. Judge Sr. had called him ‘son.’ In front of his son. It may have been nothing but the look Judge gave him… it was something.
Chapter Eighteen
Judge watched Michaels hold his dad’s hand like he was special. Saw him look him in his eyes and wish him well. It was probably safe to say that Michaels wouldn’t see his father alive again. Judge had a feeling Michaels knew it too, the way he quietly spoke his father’s disease into the air. Somehow Michaels had said goodbye to his father without making it sound hurtful or morbid and he appreciated it more than he could voice.
Judge was still standing in the door when Michaels walked up to him. He needed to move, should move, but he didn’t. He could smell him, smell the clean, handsome scent that was so attractive to him. Michaels had several scents. He’d also liked the way he’d smelled last night after his fight. The heady scent of his anger and bitterness, the tangy taste of his rage when he’d licked his neck. He had a different scent when he’d surrendered himself to him last night. Oh god. It smelled alluring and addictive. Judge just wished he could’ve been in that room this morning when Michaels woke up smelling just like him.
Michaels stepped in closer, tilting his head just slightly to look in Judge’s eyes. They watched each other for a few seconds but Judge didn’t know what was exchanging between them. When Michaels put his palm on the flat of Judge’s hard stomach, he gasped at the heat. His cheek grazed the side of his beard when he leaned and spoke in a soothing tone, “Take your time. I’ll be out front.”
Judge nodded once. That sure hand slipped away and Judge closed his eyes. What the hell was getting himself into? He knew the rules. Just follow the fuckin’ rules, Judge. Don’t get suckered back -
“Son.”
Judge startled opening his eyes. He tried to sound upbeat when he responded, “Hey, pop. How are you feeling now?”
“Son.” His father looked at him with watery eyes. “Don’t push this one away, son. He’s good for you. Strong and confident… just like you.”
“Dad. I’m not doing that again.” Judge shook his head, no. He wouldn’t, couldn’t. This time, it’d kill him.
His dad gripped his hand tightly, tighter than he had in months. “He’s not like Brent, JJ.”
“Don’t.” Judge growled. Don’t mention that name. No one mentions that name. The name of the one man that held his heart and then died and took it to the grave with him.
“You don’t. Don’t give up, JJ. Austin is here. Here now, with you. I know if you touch his heart, there’s nothing he won’t do for you.”
“Will he live forever?” Judge whispered, standing to go to the window. He couldn’t breathe. Why was his father doing this? After all this time. They should be talking about things that mattered right now. As much as Judge hated to admit it, they didn’t have much time left. He wouldn’t waste their precious moments talking about a ten year old ghost or useless attempts at new love.
“He’s a fighter, son.”
“Who you telling? He’s a tomcat.” Judge pfftd.
“Yes, I do like him.” Judge Sr. smiled fondly.
Judge shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you, Pop. This guy comes in here for twenty-four hours and you try to convince me he’s my goddamn soul mate. I probably could’ve brought RuPaul in here and you’d tell me to go for it.”
“Don’t be a wiseass.” His dad snapped.
Judge put his hands up in placation. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. You want to see me settled down before you… before…”
“Say it, son. Before I die.”
Judge braced his hands on the windowsill, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. “It’s not gonna happen. I’m not gonna fall in love with him.” Was he trying to convince his father or himself?
“He’s a warrior, JJ. But no one can live forever, son. But I know that Austin won’t go early and he won’t go without a serious fight.”
Judge huffed. This was going nowhere. “I gotta get on the road, Pop. I’ll finish this job up in a few days and then I’ll be back okay.”
His dad watched him for a few moments before sighing a weary, “Okay, JJ.”
Judge kissed Linda one more time and promised he’d be back very soon. Outside he saw Michaels throw a tattered tennis ball out into the field and waited for Bookem to run and get it. He ran back to him and dropped the ball in his hand. Michaels rumpled h
is scruff and then threw it out again. Bookem was really enjoying the playtime and he hated to interrupt it but they were on a schedule.
********
Judge looked he was truly warring with his nicotine addiction if the way he was chewing the hell out of that sugarcane was any indication. Michaels could see the stress and tension flowing like waves off of Judge. Like the mirage of wavy lines when heat rose off the searing asphalt. It was choking both of them. He wanted to talk about last night, he wanted to talk about Judge Sr., was his disease genetic or onset by some toxin, he just wanted to talk to Judge.
“Hey. You want to talk about it?” Michaels said after a half hour of riding in silence.
The snarl that curled up Judge’s lip, warned Michaels of the tongue lashing he was about to get in three, two, -
“No, I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about it. Talk about what? If I did want to talk why the hell do you think I’d want to talk to you? Oh I forgot, because you think you know every goddamn thing!” Judge’s voice rose an octave with every sentence. He glared at him before angrily yanking his sugarcane out of his mouth and threw it out the window.
Damn. He knew when to take his cue to shut the fuck up. Any other time Michaels would’ve checked a man in his mouth for talking to him like that but he somewhat understood Judge. His father was dying. Maybe Judge was losing his best friend. Michaels had no clue what that was like. He had a healthy father and mother. He had friends. His team was like a band of brothers, no matter how annoying they could be, he trusted them. Judge had very little. But it wasn’t his problem and Judge clearly didn’t want Michaels to make it his either. Few more days and they were done.
Michaels hoped his face didn’t reveal how much Judge’s words stung. He turned away and went back to watching the landscape fly by at seventy miles per hour. They had about another four hours to go before they got to Miami. Vikki had made them reservations under her name at the Pink Flamingo with a room that had a perfect angle to watch their prime targets house. He prayed Switch was there or either very close because Michaels was ready to go back home.
He heard Judge sigh about another thirty minutes later. “Look. I didn’t mean -”
“Save it.” Michaels snapped quickly cutting off whatever Judge felt he needed to say. It was foolish of him to think he and Judge could be cordial. “You don’t need to say anything. It’s your life, your problems. It was stupid of me to try to talk to you… don’t worry… it won’t happen again.”
When Judge pulled into a truck stop off the Florida Turnpike twenty miles before their exit, Michaels grunted in annoyance. He’d been reading his book the last few hours and it was just enough to keep him from snapping. He wanted out of this truck. He wanted away from this bipolar motherfucker. Michaels still reeled from how Judge had talked to him. Especially after last night. No, they hadn’t made love, but Judge definitely did something... made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He felt challenged. Judge probably liked cute little hairless, submissive twinks, with their waxed, pink assholes and their shaved balls. Ugh. Gross.
Michaels powerwalked away from Judge, ignoring him calling out to him. He tore past the visitor’s center, the small deli and straight to the bathroom. That whole line of thinking was making him reel. This assignment could not have been more of a clusterfuck. Why-oh-why didn’t he listen to Day and not do this? Because no one listens to Day. Fuck. His skin was feeling like tight, like his insides were expanding. His chest inhaled and exhaled rapidly as he paced back and forth by the shower stalls. He wanted… no needed to punch something. He snapped out and swung his right hand as if he had a formidable opponent in front of him. He wondered for a second, if he beat the shit out of Judge, would Bookem bite him.
He clenched his fist in and out trying unsuccessfully to calm down. Who was he even mad at? Shit. Judge wasn’t his boyfriend or lover, what did it matter how he treated him? There was a nerve or this tangible thing inside him battling with his sanity. He’d never been so full of anger than he had in the last couple months and it was driving him crazy. People were starting to notice too. He had to get himself in order. He drew a breath in and walked over to the sink to splash some water on his face. It was cold and refreshing to his heated skin but as soon as he stopped pouring water over him, he was burning up again. Oh this wasn’t good. This was not good at all. If he didn’t figure this out, ‘loose cannon’ was going to be the gross understatement of the year to describe him.
Michaels ran water over his hair too, shaking the short strands, making them appear spiky and wild all over his head. As soon as he turned around Judge was walking in. Great. He pulled a few paper towels off the roll and wiped at his wet face. His heart was still beating rapidly but he tried to tamp down his excitement. Conceal it.
“You done with your temper tantrum?” Judge grinned.
This so wasn’t a good time to tease him. Michaels bared his teeth, his anger pouring off of him like monoxide gas. He glared back at Judge, his chin tucked against his panting chest. His fist unconsciously balled up at his sides. Judge stroked his beard watching him as maybe a bear would watch a lion. Both dominant and territorial. Not natural enemies but damn sure not friends.
“I see.” Judge said coolly, one hundred percent composed, and damn if that didn’t piss Michaels off even more. “You want to fight again.”
“Leave.” Michaels snarled.
Judge slowly closed the distance between them. “It’s me you want to fight? You sure about that? Think long and hard before you come to that conclusion.”
Michaels turned back towards the sink. He gripped the cool surface feeling like he could rip it out of the wall. He heard Judge’s footsteps, he didn’t try to sneak up on him. He was bold and daring. As soon as that thick palm gripped his neck, Michaels pivoted and threw his elbow up but Judge blocked it easily like he was prepared for it. He hooked his arm in the crook of Michaels elbow taking that hand out of the fight. Blinding red and white lights flashed in front of his eyes. Fury. He didn’t have a chance to do anything else before Judge’s other hand gripped his bicep and squeezed, preventing him from taking a swing with his right. Now with both of his arms under control, Judge flung them backwards into the large handicap stall and barricaded him up against the wall with his bulk. Michaels struggled in the tight hold and Judge bit him hard on his neck.
“Ow! You motherfucker! Don’t do that again, if you know what’s good for you!” Michaels yelled.
Judge did him the same as last night. He used his brawn to pin him down, that thick beard scrubbed across Michaels cheek while Judge growled and nuzzled him angrily, barking against the side of his face, “Calm the fuck down!”
Judge slowed his breathing. His hands began to loosen but he didn’t let Michaels’ go. He felt Judge’s hot breath on his neck and it made his temperature spike to sweltering. “I’m going to let your hands go now. Don’t you even fuckin’ think about hitting me.”
Judge carefully released Michaels’ hands but he didn’t get out of his space. He kept them chest to chest, cheek to cheek, groin to groin. Michaels dropped his arms to his sides not trusting to put his hands anywhere on Judge. But it appeared the big man didn’t have that problem. Judge slowly massaged his hands up Michaels’ arms until he got to his shoulders. Those thick hands kneaded his muscles there until he got to the tight skin around his throat. Judge’s hands clamped around him and Michaels’ eyes went wide. Automatically he clasped his hands around Judge’s forearms. Judge pulled back and looked him in the eye before he dipped his knees and leaned in to his throat licking a slow, slick path up to his chin, stopping just before he got to his lips. “Your rage taste so fuckin’ good to me.” Judge jerked Michaels’ belt open and shoved his pants down until they were at his knees.
The first touch to his cock was like a jolt of lightning. He wanted to fight this, fight Judge, fight what he was doing to him but with every stroke from the tip of his cock to the base, a little more of the fight fled from him.
&nb
sp; “You fuckin’ bastard.” Michaels hissed. He trembled against that hard body pressed against him. He didn’t know if it was the extreme way the cortisol from the fight that had flooded his system was now replaced with chemicals that were released during orgasm that had him feeling high, but he closed his eyes and shuddered hard as his release got closer. He berated his traitorous cock. How had Judge overtaken him so quickly? He couldn’t let him have this control over him. His anger was his and his alone. His orgasm was building fast and he shoved and pushed at Judge’s chest.
“Stop it.” Judge snarled. He had to take his hand off Michaels cock in order to hold him. Those soft lips were pressed against the shell of his ear. “Michaels are you just mad at the world? Or are you mad at me?”
“Get off me. You hate me, right? You don’t want to talk, you don’t want shit to do with me. So get the fuck off me.” Michaels jerked out of Judge’s hold but he didn’t try to get past him to the door. Judge’s mouth was right there. So close to his. He wanted to kiss him hard. Punish him. Hated how much he did.
Judge didn’t back up. Instead he used the back of his hand and drug it across Michaels’ cock. “I don’t hate you.” He whispered. “I killing me how much I don’t hate you.”
The door to the bathroom slammed open. Michaels heard a couple men come in talking to each other about the traffic. Judge quietly closed and locked their stall while Michaels put his deflating cock back in his pants. The men were only a few stalls down, hopefully they didn’t bother looking around. He was pretty sure if those guys found two men in a stall together it wasn’t going to be fun.
Chapter Nineteen
Michaels was going to be the death of him. This dude had some serious anger management problems. Judge knew all about those problems. Angry with everything, everyone. He knew he hadn’t helped with blowing up at Michaels like that for no reason, especially after he’d been so nice to his family. But Michaels had retreated into his rage before he could even apologize. He knew the wild detective was pissed but he hadn’t been prepared for what he’d seen when he came into the men’s room. Barely controlled madness. Michaels’ nerves were frayed paper thin. But Judge knew exactly what to do. His cock was pulsing with excitement at what he needed to do.
