Shelby fisted his hands in the sheets as Deacon pressed his tongue inside him, his cock filled with liquid fire, which Deacon seemed to anticipate. He gripped him, stroking him gently while he licked and tormented him below.
Cold liquid on heated skin startled him, but Deacon pressed his hand against his belly. "Easy, Thursday," was all he said as he eased a finger inside him and then a second. Shelby wanted to roll away from the intrusion; he pressed into it instead. Deacon laughed a low, comforting sound. "That's right, baby, fuck my fingers. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Shelby breathed out the word, tingling as if he were on fire and helpless to save himself. He arched into Deacon's slick fingers, feeling the tender flesh stretch with each slow thrust. "God, Deacon that feels so nice."
"I know it does, baby; my cock will feel so much better. Shelby, I'm so goddamned hard I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hold off."
"Then don't. I want to feel you inside me. I've never wanted anything this much in my life. Fuck me, Deacon, please."
"Roll over," he said, his voice harsh. "On your knees, lift your ass in the air for me, pretty boy. Christ, just like that."
Shelby heard the condom wrapper tear. His cock jerked against the sheet when a second glob of cold lube touched him. He gripped the sheets as the head of Deacon's hot cock pushed into him gently, so gently he wasn't sure at first what he was feeling, and then gentle gave way to primal and he forgot the world existed.
Pressed inside him hilt deep, Deacon ordered, "Lean up on your knees." Shelby pushed himself off the bed and slowly eased himself into a kneeling position, Deacon's cock pushing inside him deeper with each move he made. But Deacon held still until Shelby leaned his head back against his shoulder. He didn't try to suppress the whimper when Deacon wrapped his arms around him and began to move against him. Slow thrusts upward, his chest hot and sweaty against Shelby's back, gliding against him with each thrust.
Shelby reached behind Deacon, holding him for support while Deacon explored his chest, one hand finding his jutting cock, his mouth hot on his neck, his cheek, and then his mouth as Shelby twisted to meet him. Deacon consumed him, his cock hot and hard inside him; he pumped Shelby with each thrust with his tongue captured inside his strong mouth. Shelby lost himself as pleasure and pain swirled to become one and he splintered under the assault, crying for release and crying for more. Deacon's arms felt like iron bands. His teeth scraped his neck, and his hand on his cock squeezed him in a way that had Shelby shaking, wondering if it would ever end.
"Shelby, fuck, Christ," Deacon panted against his neck, his hips moving faster, sliding into him in short, hard thrusts. He pulled at Shelby's cock, smearing the sticky heat from his orgasm into his flesh as a second wave built in his sac. "I'm going to...this is too much, god damn."
Pulsing heat filled him on the upthrust as Deacon impaled him, his body gone rigid as he pulsed, his cry of release primal. The pressure in Shelby's sac overwhelmed him and he came in hot, shimmering waves. When it was over, Deacon carefully withdrew from him and eased him onto the bed.
He lay on his back listening to the quiet, to the sound of his pulse slowing, to Deacon's breath returning to normal. The air that came through the door was damp and chilly. He shivered, his skin cooling rapidly, along with his racing mind. Deacon didn't say anything but Shelby could feel his gaze on him, watching him. He wanted to say something but he couldn't find the words. Instead he laid his hand on Deacon's hip. Deacon rested his fingertips on his shoulder, his smile sleepy, sensuous. It was enough.
Chapter Five
In the dream, Deacon stopped running, his breath stolen by soft kisses that frightened him. In the dream he was warm and safe. There was no pain, no regrets, no nightmares. In the dream there were only molten kisses and hands so soft he thought he might die of pleasure. In the dream, day-old stubble abraded his skin, sharp teeth nipped at him, a hot, wet tongue eased between his legs, insistent fingers spread him wide.
In the dream, Deacon buried his face in soft sheets, his hands clawing at the mattress as slick fingers entered him. "Please, god, more."
He begged the dream. And there was more. "Open for me, Deacon."
He knew that voice. Thursday's, whispering in his ear. His heated skin grazed his back as he leaned over him. He lifted his legs in the bed, his cock, painfully alive, pressed hard against the mattress. Thursday traced his hands along his thighs, pushing them farther apart until he thought he might split in two. His fingers came to rest on his ass cheeks gripping him, opening him.
Deacon buried his face again as Thursday pushed his cock inside him, slowly, his sac gently bouncing against Deacon's, his mouth hot on his shoulder blade. Deacon swore as Shelby's cock tore into him, penetrating deeper than he'd ever been penetrated in slow, torturous strokes. In and out, slick thrusts to the hilt, his balls slamming into him. He clawed the bed, arching his body to meet each thrust. His cock trapped between his belly and the sheet screamed for more. "More, goddamn you, harder, Thursday, please."
Thursday held his shoulders pinned as he eased onto his knees. His rhythm became fast, frenzied. Pressed into the bed, captive and conquered, Deacon lost control. Pain whirled through his body, pumped from his cock, and soaked the bed, but Thursday was far from releasing him. His words turned harsh as his thrusts grew harder, longer, slamming Deacon into the bed. "Fuck." He couldn't breathe. "Fuck. Shelby."
Thursday held him still. Sweat dripped onto his back as he worked into Deacon, his balls slamming against his, forcing his cock to rise again. Suffocating heat engulfed him, surrounded him, lifted him in its arms and carried him to another world only to toss him back to this one just as Shelby cried out his name, his cock red-hot and pulsing, slamming deep inside him. Deacon came, roaring into the sheet, just as soft lips touched the back of his neck. "Thank you."
He never was sure who said the words. He was never sure if he slept or just lay quietly as the sun came up. He was never sure when Thursday left.
The television blaring to life in the middle of the day finally penetrated the haze in his brain. Cold air from the air conditioning blew over his sticky skin, making him shiver.
Thursday had become Friday, and the best night of his life came to an end.
He climbed out of bed and closed the balcony door, turned off the television and the lights, then crawled back into bed, alone, to sleep the sleep of the dead.
Chapter Six
The metal shutters turned out to be the best purchase he ever made. The bar survived the hurricane with very little damage. The sandbags had kept out all but a trickle of water that pooled at all of the first-level entrances instead of spilling into the bar knee deep as it had during Katrina. The loss of the sign was about the only significant damage he found to the whole place. The rest was just cleanup. Cleanup was good. He didn't need to involve the insurance company at all this time.
The waitstaff trickled in as the roads cleared, some looking for air-conditioning and hot food, others just because it was great to be alive and among people again. That the city dodged a bullet again was a relief. That the entire Gulf Coast dodged another bullet was cause for celebration. Sally came in like a lion and went out like a lamb and as far as unwelcome guests were concerned she was a moderately well-behaved one.
Being generous because he was still caught up in the afterglow of great sex, and because he wouldn't have to throw all of the food in his freezer out, and because he could, Deacon treated everyone to drinks on the house. He watched the door with hope.
Every night he watched the door, and every night he was disappointed. One Thursday turned into four. October turned into November, summer turned into fall, then winter, all in the space of a week, and he still didn't come. Deacon stopped watching.
"Hey Deacon, what do you think happened to Thursday? I haven't seen him around in a long time," Rachel, his favorite waitress, asked on the last day of November, a Tuesday.
Deacon shrugged.
"Just wondering, you know." She rest
ed her hand on his forearm as he pulled a beer for her. "He has a huge dick. Bigger than yours. And since you don't seem interested lately..." She let the words trail off, her lips turning pouty as she looked at him with expectation in her eyes.
"Are you hinting at something, Rach?"
"Oh come on, Deacon, I'm horny and I want you. Why haven't you asked me upstairs? It's been forever. I only slept with him once. He didn't mean a thing to me, baby."
"You say that right up until he comes back and you'll throw me over for a ride on his enormous dick. I know you, Rachel. I love you baby, but my heart can't take the abuse."
"Oh shut the fuck up, Deacon, you're a bigger whore than I am. Who I fuck doesn't bother you any more than who you fuck bothers me. So the question I have is, who is she? The one you really do give a fuck about? Do I know her?"
"Why? Are you jealous?"
"If it means I can't have a spin on your joystick, you're damn straight I'm jealous. Come on, Deak, I didn't take you for a commitment man. Are there wedding bells in your future? Inquiring minds want to know."
"You mean you and Lucy want to know. You and Lucy need to mind your own business or I know two shifty waitresses who'll be looking for jobs."
"Deacon, come on, you wouldn't fire either one of us. We bring in business."
"And you profit off the clock from that business, I've looked the other way for years, Rachel. Because I like you and because you keep it off my property."
"And because I throw you a free one every now and then."
"That too, but my business is my business. Don't mess in it and I won't mess in yours."
"Poor Deacon, somebody broke your little heart. Tell Mama who hurt you so I can cut the bitch."
"Rachel, okay fine, I'll tell you this much just to shut you up." He leaned his elbows on the bar and placed his nose in front of hers. Her green eyes tilted up at the corners. "I turn forty next week. I'm divorced with two kids, I've been through the military and the police force, and now I'm running my grandfather's bar. I sleep with loose women, until two in the afternoon usually. I'm not satisfied with that right now. I'm taking a break from some things, trying to get my head on straight. Maybe it's an early midlife crisis. Maybe I'm just tired of having too much fun. When I figure it out, I'll let you know. Now run off and tell Lucy so the whole bar will know that I'm not interested in getting laid right now, and that I'm old on top of that."
"What do you take me for, Deacon? Your secret is safe with me." Her eyes shifted away from his. "Oh hey, Thursday, where have you been? Deacon and I were just talking about you."
Something icy cold and liquid hot all at the same time slithered into his belly as his eyes touched a pair of startled hazel eyes.
"What secret?" Shelby asked, his voice breaking as he looked back and forth between them.
Deacon cleared his own throat and flipped a glass up, filled it with dark ale from Germany, and set it on Rachel's tray.
"Oh nothing to do with you, honey, Deacon hasn't gotten any in a while and he's cranky. So where have you been? We've missed you."
"Go serve your drinks, Rachel, or I really will fire you."
"You won't fire me, honey. You want me too much." But she took her tray and walked away, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder as she went.
"Beer?" His hands trembled as he met the other man's curious eyes.
"No thanks, just a soda." Shelby sat on the stool directly in front of the tap instead of his usual quiet spot at the end of the bar. Recently tanned as if he'd spent some time at the beach, he wore a dark, formfitting sweater that had Deacon sweating. "Is it true? What she said?"
"Is it true that you slept with her?" Deacon didn't like that Shelby could just walk in here. He didn't like that his heart skipped a few too many beats at the sight of him.
"You know I did. You watched us leave that night. You've slept with her too. You know what she is?"
"Sure, I know. Listen, I've got work to do. Let me know when you want a real drink." He set a glass of Coke on the bar and went to fill other drink orders.
Shelby sat at the bar watching Deacon, his stare following him continually, unnerving him until he walked back to the bar. Just as he'd done with Rachel, he leaned over on the bar and whispered, "Why are you here? What do you want from me?"
"Nothing. To see how you are. I miss... I missed coming here. Is that a crime?"
"No, Thursday, it's not a crime. Your money is just as green as the next customer's." Had he almost said he missed him? "Stop looking at me like that, it's unnerving."
"Stop calling me Thursday."
"Do you want these people knowing who you really are? The senator's deeply closeted son?"
"That's twice you've taken a swipe at my sex life. I'll bloody up that pretty face of yours if you do it again. And don't think I can't, Deacon."
"Why couldn't you have stayed away?" Deacon said, not liking the edge in his eyes. This was not the broken, grieving Shelby of a month ago. This Shelby was new, hard, and he had no doubt that this Shelby wasn't making idle threats. This Shelby scared him.
He watched the clock tick down to midnight. The regulars all crawled home, leaving the barflies and Shelby sitting vigil when Deacon called last call. There were some complaints, but Deacon ignored them. Rachel and Lucy didn't mind. They were more than happy to clean up and close a little early. He kept busy, trying to avoid Shelby's gaze as his soda turned to water. After running the last of the glasses to the kitchen, he came back and found himself alone with Shelby. "I'm closing, Thursday, you might want to call a cab."
"I drove myself. And I think I'll stay for a while, if you don't mind."
"Listen, I'm busy, finish your drink and then go home." Deacon went around the room putting the last of the chairs up on tabletops. When it became apparent Shelby wasn't budging, he locked the door. "Fine, give me a yell when you leave so I can finish locking up."
He left him sitting at the bar alone while he went into the back trying to keep his hands busy and his mind calm, but a pair of rough hands grabbed him and Deacon found himself slammed into the door of the walk-in cooler. "Son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing?"
"Going out of my fucking mind. What are you doing? I came here to talk to you and you've given me the cold shoulder all night." Shelby held him against the door with a strength that surprised him. The bulge pressed against his belly shocked him.
"Are you back for seconds, Thursday? I'm not interested, pretty boy."
"Then why is your dick hard?" He threw Deacon's very own words back at him.
"Go to hell. You think you can just waltz back in here after a month and expect everything to be like it was?" Christ, that sounded pathetic.
"You're angry because I left without saying good-bye?" Shelby laughed, his mouth turning up into a grin. "That's priceless, Deacon."
"Get off me, Thursday." Something slithered through his gut, slimy and small as Shelby stood there grinning at him. Anger? Was it anger? Shit, he didn't know. He wedged his hands between them, meaning to push him away, to put a safe, sane distance between them so he could think.
He meant to, but Shelby was faster, stronger. He held him pinned to the door, his breath ragged, his lips soft at first, becoming hard, demanding.
Deacon ran his hand down his chest looking for skin, god, he craved skin. When he found skin he hauled the sweater over his head. Shelby went for his jeans but the button had barely come free when Rachel cleared her throat.
Shelby broke away from him as if he'd been burned. Deacon could only stand against the door trying to catch his breath while he searched for something to say.
"Oh don't bother trying to lie your way out of this, Deacon. I've seen the way the two of you look at each other. Christ, I'm just surprised it's taken the two of you this long to figure it out." She leaned against the dishwasher.
"I thought you left." Deacon thought his heart was going to thud out of his chest. "What do you want, Rachel?"
"I was in the john. Fucking morning
sickness is for the birds. Oh don't both of you look at me like that, it's not either of yours, though Thursday was on the short list there for a while." Her lips slanted upward in a wicked grin. "Relax, Thursday, you're off the hook. I'm only four weeks along. Christ, Deacon, don't look at me like that. I've known you were bi for years. I haven't told anyone, and I don't plan to now that you've finally gotten hooked on someone. Oh shit, Deacon, I'm sorry, he doesn't know, does he?"
"Know what?" Shelby followed her amused grin. His face had gone very pale.
"That Deacon is in love with you. He's got it so bad he hasn't gotten laid since the last time you were here, when was that? Oh yeah, the night the hurricane hit. Oh, please. Just because I wasn't here doesn't mean I don't know things."
"What do you really want, Rachel? I'll give you anything."
"Can I join you, at least watch? God, it must be hot as hell when you two get going."
"Rachel..." He clamped his teeth down on his tongue to keep from growling at her.
"Okay, Christ, Deacon you're no fun. It's not like I haven't had a ride or two on those enormous dicks the two of you have. But I can see you really want to be alone so if I can beg a walk to my car I'll get out of your hair."
"Fine." Deacon did the button on his jeans, and taking her arm, he walked her out of the kitchen. Casting one last look at Shelby, he knew the moment had passed. "I'll be right back. We'll talk."
"I'll be right here." Shelby didn't know why he'd said that. It was stupid; of course he was going to stay here, there was too much to work through. Too much he needed to tell him, too much he needed to know. Rachel's observation sent him reeling. But he knew Rachel well enough to wonder if she was being straight.
"Are you in love with me?" he asked the moment Deacon came back through the door.
"Why did you leave? Why did you stay away?" Deacon countered calmly. His eyes were distant now, calm, cool, and distant, much like that first night when he'd had the upper hand.
"Because I had to deal with shit before I could deal with this. Because if I'd have stayed I would never have been able to leave. Because I was scared out of my mind. Answer my question: are you in love with me?"
The 51st Thursday Page 4
