by Tinnean
Mopp’s own dick got harder than he could remember, and he grinned down at it. Soon, now. Soon.
He took out the candles, unwrapped them, and placed them on every flat surface, then used the book of matches the nice cashier had given him to light them. With that done, he pulled the curtains over the windows. The candles gave the room a warm, intimate feel.
Yeah, that was exactly how it should be.
He turned down the bed and set the condoms and lube on the night table. Anything else?
That was when he noticed the radio.
On this lovely morning, a little romantic music was called for. He just hoped there was a local radio station that played it.
He turned on the radio and fiddled with the dial, and son of a gun, there was Frank Sinatra, singing about the year he turned twenty-one and how it was a very good year.
Mopp guessed he was right.
He took a step back, folded his arms across his chest, and let his gaze run over the room. He beamed. Could this day be any more perfect?
The bathroom door opened, and he turned, and he realized that yeah, it could.
Josh stood there, the towel around his waist leaving an expanse of hair-dusted thigh bare.
“Oh!” Josh took in all the lighted candles.
“Do you like it?” Mopp asked.
“You did this for me?”
“Yeah. That was really why I went back into the pharmacy.”
“I love it. Thank you.” He extended his right hand.
“Oh!” Mopp saw what he was holding out to him: a water glass filled with violets.
“Do you like them?”
“No one’s ever… I love them! But when—”
“I got them while you were in the pharmacy.”
Mopp threw himself at Josh. Water from the glass spilled on him, and some of the violets fell on the floor, but none of that mattered. Josh was kissing him as if his life depended on it, and that was fine with Mopp.
Chapter 30
DEUCE SAT IN the chair by Trip’s bed, watching him with brooding eyes. It had been a fucking long weekend. They’d arrived at the safe house in good time, and Ace had hung the bag of IV fluids and got it started, but Trip had had a restless couple of nights.
If he planned on making a habit of getting shot, Deuce would have to brush up on his medical techniques.
Once Trip had been settled, he’d sent Ace and Stan to restock supplies. Whoever was supposed to see to that had fallen down on the job. The bread was green-moldy and the canned goods in the pantry were all outdated.
Something else he planned to do: inform the boss about this.
Now the smell of tomato sauce filled the house. It was the jarred variety—Deuce and his men could all cook, just not from scratch.
His cell phone rang, and damn, it was “I Hear You Knocking,” the ringtone he’d given Finchley, Dr. Gautier’s assistant. What the fuck did he want? Didn’t he know she had given him two weeks to make sure his man recuperated?
“Yes?” In spite of his aggravation about how badly this whole operation had gone down, he kept his tone polite.
“It’s Finchley.”
“Yes?” Deuce said again.
“Dr. Gautier wants you back in New York.”
“Now?” Shit. He shouldn’t have said that, but seriously, if she wanted him back in New York that soon, he would have appreciated a bit more notice, especially with Trip out of commission.
Finchley’s sigh was put-upon. “She’s quite aware you’re out of town. Catch a flight and be here in a couple of hours.” The sound of him grinding his teeth came over the line. “That idiot Jameson has lost the boy. Pan—Dr. Gautier wants you to find him.”
“My men—”
“Pay them off. Their job is done. She just wants you.” He hung up before Deuce could say anything more.
“Well, isn’t that special?” he muttered.
“Trouble, boss?” Trip leaned up on an elbow.
“Lay back down.” He rested his palm on Trip’s forehead, worried he might be feverish, but fortunately his forehead was cool to the touch. “No, no trouble. I have to go see Dr. Gautier.”
“Now? Okay.” He pushed himself to a sitting position and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”
“With you, where else?”
“Think again, Butch. You’re staying here until you get well.”
“I’m well enough.”
“You’re not. Don’t make me have to get tough with you. Now listen to me. This job is done. Ace knows where I stash the dough, and he’ll pay you off.”
“Dammit, this is a fuck-all time for me to get laid up.”
Deuce couldn’t resist stroking Trip’s hair. “Use the time to recuperate.”
“Will you… will you call me for another job?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You do good work.”
“When I’m not getting shot.”
“Stop pissing and moaning. You’re a good man, and I’ll be in touch.” Deuce cringed at how that sounded—as if he was giving some woman the brush.
Trip didn’t seem to notice. “I guess you’d better go then.”
“Yeah. Dr. G. doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Will you get there in time?”
“Sure. I know someone.”
“You know a lot of someones.”
“Yeah, but this someone knows how to fly.” He took out his phone, went into his contact list, pulled up a number, and dialed. The woman he called picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Pepper. It’s Deuce. I’m in town, and I need to be in New York soonest.”
“JFK? LaGuardia?”
“LaGuardia.” It was closer to Manhattan.
“Got it. My Cessna is out at Francis Marion Airfield.” She gave him directions to the small, private airfield.
“Thanks, Pep. I’ll see you in a few.”
“No rush, man. I’ve got to fuel her up.”
“Do me a favor and step on it. I’m seriously short on time.”
“Like that, is it? Okay, but it’ll cost you. Now, get your ass out here, and we’ll be heading for the wild blue yonder before you know it.”
“Thanks.” He flipped his phone shut. “Okay, I gotta go.” He studied Trip’s bloodshot eyes and pale face. He had an almost overpowering desire to kiss him. “Make sure you’re still alive the next time I call you.”
“You bet. Uh… Deuce? You’ll be in one piece too, won’t you?”
“It’s the only way I roll.”
Trip nodded and lay back down, and Deuce gave him a final glance before he strode into the other room. The house wasn’t large, just a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms with a couple of twin beds, and a single bathroom.
Stan was watching a Mission: Impossible movie on TV while Ace did the cooking.
“Hey, boss.” Ace leaned through the kitchen’s pass-through. “Dinner will be in a few.”
“Don’t set a place for me.” Deuce already regretted the meal he was going to miss. Pepper didn’t stock any snacks on board her Cessna, and while LaGuardia offered more than a roach coach, the restaurants would be closed for the weekend by the time he got there. “I just got word from the boss, and I have to head back to New York.”
“Shit.”
“My thoughts precisely. This is where we say vaya con dios.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God.”
“Let’s just say I like to keep all my options open.”
Stan muted the TV. “Trouble?” He inadvertently echoed Trip.
“Dunno, but in case there is… Ace, you know where I keep the dough. Make sure Trip gets well, then split it three ways.” He wanted to say “give Trip my share,” but that might make things tough for the kid. Anyway
, if things got hinky, Deuce had left Trip everything in his will, and his lawyer would see he got it.
“Just don’t get dead, boss,” Ace said.
Deuce grunted. “Stan, I need you to drive me to Francis Marion Airfield. I’ve got the directions.”
He drew in a final lungful of fragrant air—he’d always loved Ragú—then headed out the door with Stan at his heels.
***
IT WAS MORE than three hours later when Deuce walked into the building that housed Pandora Gautier’s penthouse in Midtown Manhattan. Damned traffic had held up his arrival by an additional forty-five minutes.
Finchley gave him a sour glance and led the way to Dr. Gautier’s private quarters on the top floor. “Dr. Gautier is waiting for you in her sitting room.”
Deuce had been in the sitting room before, but he’d never seen it set up like this, made to look like a hospital room. And Dr. Gautier looked like something out of The Invisible Man, with her face wrapped in bandages.
“Sit. Eat.”
She was a considerate boss when she remembered, and this time she seemed to have remembered. A tray was laid out beside a chair, piled with sandwiches and a carafe of coffee—she didn’t believe in her employees drinking on the job.
Well, neither did Deuce.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, then picked up a ham and swiss on rye and took a bite. It was good, but the penne à la vodka at the safe house would have been better.
“So what’s going on, Dr. G.?” He didn’t bother making small talk—she wasn’t one for it.
She brought him up to speed, concluding with, “Jameson lost the boy. At this point, we have no idea where he is.”
Deuce washed down the bite of sandwich with his coffee. “I’ll backtrack to Savannah and see what I can learn.”
“I knew I could depend on you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” People liked to talk. He’d get a list of everyone who’d been at the wake the day before.
Someone had to have seen the boy.
Chapter 31
“I HOPE YOU don’t mind,” Josh said as he raised his head from another kiss.
“Huh?” Mopp leaned back and dragged his fingernails through the hair that feathered over Josh’s chest, fascinated by the texture and by the play of the muscles beneath it.
“There were two glasses in the bathroom. I used one of them as a vase.”
“You mean I’ll get to use the one you used?” Mopp wanted to do a fist pump. Instead, he stepped out of Josh’s embrace and stooped to retrieve the violets that had spilled out of the glass, grinning the entire time. Jan had never cared for sharing glasses… sharing anything if it came to that, but Mopp had loved it. Tad and Rush had introduced him to movies like Now, Voyager, where the male lead put two cigarettes in his mouth to light them. Not that Mopp smoked, and neither did Josh, but he might have considered it if he could light their cigarettes that way. Frankly, the thought of his mouth and Josh’s on the same thing made his dick hard. “I don’t mind at all.”
Josh reached down to pat his ass, and Mopp sprang some serious wood.
“Uh…” He whirled around and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll just take that shower now.”
“You do that, sweet boy.”
Oh God, he loved when Josh called him that.
The bathroom was humid from the moist heat of Josh’s shower, and the mat outside the shower stall was damp from Josh having stood on it. He drew in a deep breath and gave a massive shudder as the scent of the soap Josh had used engulfed him.
Mopp stared down at his dick. Down boy. He looked around.
Josh had hung their suits behind the door. He’d folded the clothes he’d worn and placed them in a small basket in a corner. The bag from the pharmacy dangled from a hook on the wall, but Josh had left a disposable razor and the shaving gel on the pedestal sink for him, along with a toothbrush and toothpaste. That was so nice of him.
Mopp stripped off his shirt, shorts, and socks, dropped them to join Josh’s, then took the pendant from around his neck and put it on the sink. He stood carefully in front of the sink. In spite of his order, his dick was sticking out in front of him, and the last thing he wanted was to do any damage to it, not when he had such plans for it.
After he shaved and brushed his teeth, he turned on the shower and stepped in. The thought suddenly occurred to him that minutes before, Josh had stood here, letting the water pelt down on him.
Someday soon they’d have to shower together.
***
MOPP STEPPED OUT of the shower, rubbed a towel over his hair and body, then wrapped it around his hips before opening the bathroom door.
A billow of steam followed him into the bedroom, where Barry Manilow was crooning mournfully about wasted time.
Mopp came to an abrupt halt.
Josh had disposed of his towel and posed himself on the bed, stark, staring naked. One leg was bent, opening him to Mopp’s eager gaze, and his dick lay flaccid on his thigh. His eyes were closed, and long, luxuriant lashes fanned over his cheek.
God, he was beautiful.
Mopp tossed aside the towel, climbed onto the bed, and brushed a kiss to Josh’s cheek. He worked Josh’s arm around his shoulders, then rested his head on Josh’s chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat seemed to repeat over and over, “I love you.”
“I’m not sleeping,” Josh murmured, straightening his leg. He turned toward Mopp, wrapped an arm around his waist, and tugged him close. Mopp loved it.
“You’re just resting your eyes, right?” He held his breath, waiting to hear how Josh would react to that, but he just smiled and peeled open an eye.
“I’m not an old man.”
“No, you’re not.” Mopp nuzzled the spot under Josh’s ear, happy when he hummed his pleasure. Mopp combed his fingertips through the hair that feathered over Josh’s chest and down to his navel, where the hair flared out to cover his groin. “I like this.”
“Oh God, so do I.”
The rough need in Josh’s voice made Mopp’s toes curl—they literally curled, and he dragged them along the curve of Josh’s calf. They were naked on this bed together.
Mopp propped himself up. He reached to cup Josh’s chin and turned his head so he could kiss him.
“Mopp… Wait, where’s your heart?”
“Right here.” He caught Josh’s hand and pressed it against his heart. “It’s beating for you.” He watched in fascination as Josh’s cock started to harden, and Josh bent his knee. Was he angling his leg so his arousal wasn’t obvious? Why? It was the most glorious thing Mopp had ever seen.
“Is it? Thank you.” He kissed him, and the feel of Josh’s lips on his own was the most amazing thing. Mopp started to deepen the kiss, but Josh cupped his cheek and stopped him. “No, I meant the heart Jennie gave you.”
“I left it in the bathroom. It always bothered Jan when I wore it when we were in bed.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she just didn’t like the fact that another girl gave it to me.”
“But it was your sister.”
“I know.” He’d never understood, and right now, he didn’t want to talk about it. “Did… did I do that?” He reached out a finger and caught the drop of precome that oozed from the tip just before it slid down Josh’s shaft. He stared at it, and then he sucked his finger into his mouth and tasted the salty bitterness, kind of like his own taste but different. His dick got harder.
“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Mopp.”
“You want me to stop?” Mopp would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t push his… his Josh into doing anything he wasn’t comfortable with.
“No. God, no!”
“So you’d have a heart attack in a good way?”
Josh chuckled and swatted his butt, and whoa, that felt good! It never had when Dadd
y had done that, but that was just as well. It would have been too creepy otherwise.
“You taste good.”
“How can you—”
“Even straight boys are curious about what they taste like.”
“Really?”
“Well, this formerly straight boy was.”
Josh groaned. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Formerly straight.”
“Why not, if it’s true?”
“Because it’s been a long time since I was with a lover in bed. You’ve got me on edge faster than I’ve been since I was a randy teen, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on.”
“Josh? I love you.” Mopp pushed Josh on his back, crawled onto him, and spread his thighs so they cradled Josh’s hips. He lowered his butt and shivered when he felt Josh’s balls against his own.
“Oh my God!”
Mopp froze. Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt Josh?
“No, don’t stop,” Josh demanded, his voice rough with passion. “You feel so good.”
“I do?”
“Believe it.” Josh reached between them, closed his fingers around Mopp’s dick, and dragged it through the hair that grew past Josh’s navel.
Mopp couldn’t prevent a little whine. Josh was right. That felt amazing!
Josh shuddered and rocked up against Mopp, and Mopp hummed and peppered his way up Josh’s chest, collarbone, throat, cheek… lips… with kisses he hoped let Josh know how much he meant to him.
“Do you… uh… want to get started?” Josh asked.
“Yeah.” Mopp stayed where he was and stretched out an arm to grab up a condom and the lube.
Josh took the condom from him, tore it open, and said, “Sit up.”
Mopp did, and bit his lip as he felt Josh’s dick slide up the crease of his ass and nudge the small of his back.
Josh stroked his thigh. “Relax. If you don’t want to do this—”
“I want this.”
“Okay, then.” Josh took the condom from its package and placed it on the tip of Mopp’s dick.
“Oh.”
Josh smoothed it down and toyed with the curls that grew around the base. Mopp had jerked off, so he knew what a hand on his dick felt like. And Jan would occasionally run her fingertips up and down his length.
