AWAKENINGS 2:
INSTINCT
Jessica Freely
www.loose-id.com
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Awakenings 2: Instinct
Jessica Freely
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
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www.loose-id.com
Copyright © July 2009 by Jessica Freely
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN 978-1-59632-946-1
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Vanessa Lillie
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
Chapter One
Blake paced the confines of the motel room, wishing for the umpteenth time that he hadn't let Joam go back out there alone. Of course, if it had been up to him, they wouldn't have stopped driving in the first place. Two states and a desert still wasn't enough distance between them and all that had gone wrong in Beulah, but after thirty-six hours on the road, even he had to acknowledge that they needed to rest, get some food, and find proper clothes.
The room, in a Motel 6 just off the highway, was decorated in shades of seventies orange and green. There were two double beds (they only needed one) covered in desert-motif bedspreads, a dresser, and a laminated wicker table beneath a tulip-shaped rattan chandelier. Blake didn't give a damn about the decor, but he would have been happier if the windows were barred and the door was lined with steel. The better to keep you out, he thought.
Blake couldn't shake the feeling that Gregor Walsh was still out there somewhere, hunting them. As if in answer to this thought, someone knocked on the door. Blake nearly jumped out of his torn cutoffs and sweat-soaked T-shirt. His heart hammered, torn between relief if it was Joam and terror of it being anyone else. Get a grip, he admonished himself. Four years as a street hustler and now all of a sudden you're falling apart?
Well, there were two reasons for that. One, he'd never been involved in magic before, and two, now that he'd found Joam, there was so much more at stake.
Blake looked through the peephole. It was Joam, his arms loaded with carryout containers and shopping bags. With a rush of relief, Blake opened the door. “Thank God,” he said. “I was afraid something had happened to you.”
Joam, still dressed in the filthy coveralls they'd found in the trunk of his dead boss's car, shook his head. “I just drove a ways out so as not to attract too much attention wearing this. Here, take a look at what I got.” He held the bags out to Blake.
Blake took them from him and piled them on the table, then threw himself into Joam's arms. Joam's murmur of pleasure turned to one of concern. “You're shaking.”
“I'm okay,” said Blake. “I'm okay now. I just keep thinking that somehow, Walsh is going to find us again.”
Joam held him tight. “It's natural for you to think that. After all, you thought you'd escaped him after he killed your friend Randy, and then he showed up in Beulah, where he nearly—”
“Raped me and killed both of us. But you stopped him.”
“We stopped him,” said Joam. “If you hadn't tricked him, he would have finished me off. But Walsh is a businessman, besides being a varnal and a sorcerer. No matter how pissed he is about losing his virgin sacrifice, he'll have to go back to LA for a few days at least, to see to his interests. That gives us time to disappear.”
Wrapped in those long, strong arms, Blake felt safe, and that wasn't a feeling he'd had in a very long time. He unzipped the neck of the coveralls and buried his face in Joam's chest, breathing in the smell of him, soaking in the warmth of his tawny skin.
“Everything's going to be all right,” said Joam, stroking Blake's back. “We're together now.”
Blake felt like a wuss. Here Joam was comforting him even after taking all the risk and going out to get supplies. It should be the other way around, but that didn't stop Blake from relishing the touch of Joam's big, strong hands.
“Did you take a shower?” Joam asked.
Blake shook his head. “I was afraid that with the water running, I wouldn't be able to hear if anything happened.”
Joam hugged him tight. “You can take one now if you want. I'll stand guard.”
They both needed to shower, badly, but the delicious aromas wafting from the carryout containers gave Blake's stomach other plans. “Food first?”
Joam released him with a lopsided grin. Joam had a long face with a beautiful, prominent nose, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth. His looks were quirky, but nevertheless devastatingly handsome, and when he smiled, his gentle soul shone right through his hazel eyes.
“You like Mexican?”
Blake swallowed past the sudden dryness in his mouth. The truth was, at this point, he'd eat a squirrel on a stick. “I love Mexican.”
Joam moved the bags of clothing—jeans, T-shirts, and underwear—to the bed, and Blake started opening boxes to reveal tamales, rice, beans, chiles rellenos, and nachos. Blake's mouth watered, and his stomach bounced up and down with eagerness.
“Mind if I take this off?” asked Joam, tugging at the collar of the dead man's coveralls. “It kind of creeps me out.”
The orange and brown drapes were drawn. “No, please,” said Blake. “Besides, it's another chance to see you naked.”
Joam blushed at that, and that made Blake grin. Joam had been a virgin until their first night together. He had no concept of how hot he was. Blake was going to enjoy helping him get past his shyness.
When Joam bent his head and slowly unzipped the coveralls, Blake forgot all about the food and sank to the bed and watched, breathless. Seeing Joam's broad-shouldered, slender frame emerge from the oil-stained gray coveralls was like watching a butterfly come out of its cocoon.
Joam was half-Native American, half-Caucasian, and a varnal. In his varnal form, he resembled a large, elegant greyhound with brown-and-gold-brindled fur. At the moment, however, he was all human, and his cheeks were pink. He shrugged the coveralls off his broad shoulders and they fell down to his hips, baring his back, chest, and belly.
Blake sighed, feasting his eyes on Joam's rose brown nipples and the light dusting of dark hair between his pecs, which ran in a thin line down his belly and below his navel.
With a twist of his hips, Joam skimmed the coveralls down over his ass and stepped out of them. The sight of Joam's tight round ass and
his big, beautiful cock, now dormant in its nest of dark hair, made Blake's mouth water.
Joam was too thin by far, and numerous scars and bruises marked his body, but none of those marks made Joam any less beautiful.
Joam's boss, Higgs, had been an evil man who killed Joam's mother, abused Joam, and kept him isolated so he could sell him to Walsh as a virgin sacrifice. He'd worked Joam like a dog and paid him next to nothing. But that was all part of the past, Blake decided. No matter what happened next, he was never going to let anyone mistreat Joam again.
Joam glanced up and caught the look on Blake's face. He blushed even more deeply, and his cock swelled a little. For a moment, they just stared at one another, and Blake was about to go to his knees and bury his face in Joam's pubes when Joam turned and sat down at the table and began opening cartons.
Blake suddenly felt that he couldn't bear to sit down across from Joam wearing this torn hustler gear he'd been stranded in for the past three days.
He stripped off, enjoying Joam's wide-eyed look as he paused in spooning refried beans onto a paper plate. The beans fell off the spoon with an audible plop, and they both laughed. Without further ado, Blake sat down and for some time, silence reigned as they dug into the meal.
Everything was delicious. Of course, that squirrel on a stick would have been mighty tasty by now too, but Blake sensed that Joam had sussed out one of the many fabulous, hole-in-the-wall Mexican places that dotted the West. “This is really good,” he said around a mouthful of tamale.
Joam grinned. “Yeah, and there's a lot of it. All we want. And we can get more too.” Joam nodded to his former boss's cash box, sitting on the floor beside the dresser. “We've got plenty of money.”
His unbridled enthusiasm over having enough to eat made Blake's heart hurt. Sure, he'd had some lean times himself, but the times he'd actually gone hungry had been a rarity. He couldn't wait to see what Joam looked like with more meat on his bones. Swallowing, he got up from his seat. “Sit on your lap?”
Joam blinked in surprise. “Sure.”
Blake sat crosswise on his lap, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact and the secure feeling of Joam's strong arms encircling him. Blake picked up a nacho chip and fed it to Joam, watching the way his lips moved as he chewed. Blake fed him several bites of nacho and then the rest of the tamale Joam had been working on.
Joam seemed a bit perplexed at all this, but willing enough to play along. When the tamale was gone, Joam washed it down with a big swig of iced tea and turned to look at Blake. There was that hesitation again, that awkwardness. Blake leaned in and kissed him.
Joam's lips were soft and warm. Blake's fear and tension melted away as they moved beneath his. He licked at Joam's lips, and the next moment, all awkwardness, all hesitation, was gone, and they were plundering one another's mouths. Joam cradled his face, and Blake slid his hands up Joam's neck and ran them through his hair. The silky strands slipped through his fingers like gossamer.
They paused for breath, and Blake leaned his head on Joam's shoulder. “Did you get enough to eat?”
Joam nodded. “I don't think I've eaten this much at one time since my ma passed.”
Blake wormed one arm between Joam and the back of the chair, and draped the other one around his chest and held him tight. “I want you to always have enough to eat.”
Joam gave a little gasp. From this position, Blake couldn't see his face, which was part of the point. He couldn't say something like that with Joam looking at him.
For a long time they were both silent, and Blake wondered if this was too much. Then Joam said, “For as long as I live, I'll never forget you giving me those bologna sandwiches.” There was a smile in his voice.
Okay. Good.
Blake remembered his innocent offer to share his food with the mechanic driving the tow truck to pick up his broken-down car. Joam's overly grateful reaction had been Blake's first clue that something was wrong in the little town of Beulah. Now he marveled at how that one small gesture had changed both of their lives. “I'll always give you sandwiches,” he said. He pressed his face to the side of Joam's neck and kissed him. His eyes focused on a mark on Joam's collarbone, a small, round burn. From a cigarette? “And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again either.”
Joam went still. “That's… I can take care of myself; you know that. I could have killed Higgs at any time.”
“If it hadn't been for the emotional blackmail.”
“Well, yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it.” He pulled back so he could fix Blake with his gaze. “But don't worry about me. It's you I'm worried about. I don't want you to get in harm's way. If something happened to you…”
“I know. I just—I'm saying this wrong. I just mean that… I guess I want to make up for your pain, and maybe I can't do that, but…”
Joam shook his head. “I didn't know it was possible to be this happy, Blake. And it's because of you. It's all because of you. If you hadn't walked into Higgs's garage that night, I'd be dead by now. Or at the very least still a slave. But you did, and we're free. The past is behind us now.”
“We'll take care of each other,” said Blake, and Joam nodded and gave him one of those wonderful smiles. It seemed to pull Blake right to him, and the next thing he knew, they were kissing.
Joam had bought cinnamon crisps for dessert. Blake reached for the carton and, when they broke their kiss, popped one in Joam's mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and they kissed again, and Blake tasted cinnamon sugar. Another break, another crisp, another kiss. He liked feeding Joam.
“Here, wait, before I eat them all,” said Joam. And he took the carton from Blake's hand and fed him, his head bent close, his beautiful brown-green eyes gazing into Blake's, watching every nuance of his expression.
Blake ate the last three crisps from Joam's hand and then grasped him by the wrist and licked his fingers clean. The sight of Joam's eyes fluttering shut in pleasure made Blake's heart pound. He released his hand and dived in for another kiss.
Blake was hard, and he felt Joam's erection pushing up against his butt cheeks. He grasped the back of Joam's head, keeping their mouths locked together as he shifted position to straddle Joam's lap. Blake's stout cock bumped against Joam's long, thick one, and Joam gasped into Blake's mouth. They broke their kiss, and Joam pressed his lips to Blake's neck and began to kiss and nibble the tender skin there.
Blake reached down and took both their cocks in hand, stroking them. Their hips moved in unison, thrusting together into Blake's warm hand. Joam whimpered and ran his hands down Blake's sides and up between them, petting and playing with Blake's nipples.
The teasing sent little ripples of electricity running back and forth between Blake's chest and his cock. Both of them were leaking precum now, their hips on automatic.
Blake turned his head and captured Joam's mouth with his again, exploring the warm, wet cavern with his tongue as Joam slid his hands under Blake, cupping his ass and pulling their groins even closer together. They moved in harmony, in the all-consuming rhythm of approaching orgasm, sweaty cocks bumping and thrusting together. Blake's balls drew tight against his body. Joam whimpered in the back of his throat and broke their kiss. “Oh! God! Blake!”
Blake squeezed his hand, pressing the sensitive heads of their cocks against one another as Joam's hot seed spurted out in a fountain and a second later, Blake's own orgasm took him, his hips doing double time as his cum sprayed over both of them, painting their heaving chests with pearly droplets. For a moment they clung to one another, panting, staring into each other's eyes as the world slowly stopped spinning around them. Then Joam laughed. “Now we really need a shower.”
Joam walked into the bathroom to find Blake bent over the tub, adjusting the water temperature. He was naked, his chest crusted with cum, his tight, round bubble butt sticking up in the air. The sight alone made him stir, despite the fact that he'd just come moments ago.
Joam couldn't resist. As one part of his mind marveled at his boldness
, he walked up behind Blake, gripped his hips, and rested his quickly swelling cock in the crevice of his ass. Blake chuckled and pushed back, rubbing himself playfully up and down Joam's shaft for a few seconds before standing up, turning on the shower, and stepping in.
The steaming water immediately plastered his wavy blond hair to his head and ran in rivulets down his broad forehead, upturned nose, and cleft chin. It turned the blond thicket on his chest to a sodden mat and ran in streams down his washboard abs, over his tumescent cock, and down his beautiful, sculpted thighs. Blake blew water out of his face and held out a washcloth. “Wash my back?”
Joam took a step forward, then stopped. “Don't you want me to stand guard?”
Was it the hot water that made Blake's face flush pink? “No. I'm sorry for being such a worrywart. The door's locked. It'll be fine.”
Joam didn't need to be asked again. He stepped into the hot spray. It took all the control he had not to plaster himself to Blake's warm, wet back and hump himself to completion between the man's firm, muscular ass cheeks. He took a deep breath and fought for calm even as his cock twitched.
He soaped up the washcloth and ran it over Blake's beautiful, sculpted back. Blake was half a head shorter than him, his body compact and robust, his chest, arms, thighs, all of him, seemed hewn out of oak. There wasn't a trace of fat on him, but he was anything but scrawny. Physically, he was everything Joam could have ever dreamed of, but there was so much more.
Blake had had several opportunities to flee the trouble in Beulah. It was none of his affair. He'd just been passing through and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the fact that he barely knew Joam was no deterrent to him. He'd stayed and risked his life to help Joam. Joam had been in love with Blake since the moment Joam had suggested exchanging car repairs for sex, and Blake had described the arrangement as “lovely,” but if he hadn't been, then Blake's generosity as a friend and as a lover would have smitten him anyway.
Awakenings 2: Instinct Page 1
