SICARII: Part III

by Adrienne Wilder

  “Stop—please—”

  Ben’s fingers disappeared, not only taking the bliss but the sense of being complete. Or maybe just the sense of Jacob completely belonging to himself.

  “Jacob?” Ben smoothed a hand across Jacob’s lower back. “Did I hurt you?”

  Jacob couldn’t help but laugh. “No, baby, it was just…intense.”

  “Will you turn around so I can see you?”

  Jacob glanced back. “Wouldn’t you rather watch your dick in my ass?”

  Ben ran his fingers down Jacob’s crease. “I’d rather watch you.” Ben reached for Jacob’s arm, and he let him turn him around, then down, devouring Jacob’s mouth, his tongue lapping at his lips only to fill his mouth again.

  Jacob pulled back, and there was only a moment of resistance from Ben before he let go.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Jacob reached behind him, angling Ben’s cock until the head pressed against his opening. “Nothing, just lie there and enjoy yourself.” Jacob sank down, taking Ben to the hilt too fast, reigniting that blessed storm. Jacob rolled his hips forward, using the length of Ben’s cock to hit his prostate.

  “I was wrong…” Ben gasped, popping up his hips like a reflex. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He worked his hands up Jacob’s ribs to his pecs.

  “Pinch my nipples.”

  Ben obeyed, and another layer of ecstasy folded over Jacob.

  “Harder, Ben. I won’t break.”

  Ben ground the nubs between his thumb and finger, and the shock made Jacob jerk.

  “Like that, just like that. Feels good.” Jacob rose on his knees and dropped back. It only took a couple times before Ben matched his rhythm, clapping their bodies together.

  Ben moved his hold to Jacob’s hips and Jacob let Ben have control. He thrust, his pace going erratic.

  “Don’t know how—” The cords stood out along Ben’s neck. Beads of sweat coated his skin. “Jacob—I’m—”

  Jacob undulated, slowing the friction. He grabbed his cock and stroked.

  Ben’s muscles went rigid, and he dug his heels into the mattress, arching against the bed, almost lifting Jacob completely off the mattress, crying out, begging with wordless sounds. The sight of the man under Jacob twisting in euphoric agony as effective as the act of being fucked.

  Ropes of cum sprayed Ben’s chest, droplets speckled his chin.

  Shivers raced down Jacob’s spine. The high of release faded, and he slumped.

  With a soft laugh, Ben caught him.

  And held him.

  Sam’s mother met him at the bottom of the stairs, with Stephanie clinging to her leg. His youngest sister had on a gold crown party favor and wore Katie’s old Cinderella costume over her jumper.

  She waved the glitter-covered construction paper wand she held. It flopped, sprinkling bits of colored foil on the floor. “It broke.” She held it up to her mom, who scooped her up and set her on the ottoman in front of the easy chair.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it before we go. Now sit here on this throne, so I can take Prince Charming’s photo.”

  “Okay.”

  “Who’s Prince Charming?” Sam said.

  His mom turned. “You are.”

  “You’re going to take my picture?”

  “Yes, I’m going to take your picture. Now stand over there.” She held up the camera in her hand.

  One of those old-fashioned kinds that still used film.

  “Where did you even find one of those things?”

  “I have my ways.” She pointed, and Sam moved to the designated spot.

  “But it uses film.”

  “Yes, it uses film.”

  “A cell phone would be more practical.” Then he wouldn’t have to stand there forever while she fiddled with the focus.

  “I like using a real camera. Now smile.”

  “You do realize developing chemicals have a significant environmental impact?”

  “Samson Waters, don’t you start.” She scowled, but it didn’t match the laughter in her eyes.

  “But—"

  “Hush.”

  Sam shuffled his feet.

  “Stand still.”

  “Mom…”

  “Don’t slouch.” She moved back another step. “Lift your chin, smile.”

  Stephanie waved at Sam. “Smile.”

  “Listen to your little sister.” His mother raised the camera.

  Good grief, couldn’t a guy just go to a dance with someone he liked without it being a world-changing event? If Sam had realized wearing a suit would warrant such a production, he would have called off the whole going out together to the dance with Roshan.

  But this was a date, and dates were serious. At least for Sam who’d never even entertained the idea of having a boyfriend for fear of someone knowing he was gay.

  Now that they did—well, most did—it seemed insignificant, especially since his parents hadn’t missed a beat in their daily lives.

  And calling it off would mean he’d put his mom through a lot of work to get the sleeve of his jacket adjusted to fit over the cast all for nothing. More than that, he’d miss time with Roshan.

  “Sam…” His mother propped a fist on her hip. “Will you smile? You’re going to a dance, not a funeral.”

  Well, depending on who showed up at said dance, he just might be going to both. Karl might have gotten arrested and expelled, but his friends hadn’t. And Sam was pretty sure a couple guys willing to watch their buddy beat a person to death with a baseball bat would have no problems ignoring the principal’s orders that they were banned from any extracurricular activities.

  Especially the Spring Dance.

  His mother cleared her throat.

  “Mom…”

  She frowned, skipping her gaze over Sam’s face.

  “I think I should put some foundation on that cut.”

  “I’m not wearing makeup. And it’s practically healed.”

  “It’s a cut, and you won’t feel that way when you look back on these pictures in ten years.”

  If Sam had his way, there wouldn’t be any pictures to look back at. Maybe they could accidentally fall into the fireplace next time his dad lit it.

  The one good thing about film, it could easily be ruined. The second, he might actually have a chance to destroy the evidence before she stuck it on social media.

  “Say cheese.”

  Sam forced his mouth into a big grin. Stephanie showed her teeth with what could have been the world’s biggest smile, or a three-year-old a few seconds from going Tasmanian Devil.

  His mom adjusted the lens.

  Behind his teeth, Sam said, “Better hurry up, don’t know how long I can hold it.”

  “Sam…”

  “I feel it falling.” White light, then black dots. He blinked to clear his vision. “Happy now?”

  “No, you closed your eyes.”

  “That’s what happens when you stare into a light with a kelvin rating of fifty-five hundred.”

  “Smile, Sam, or else.”

  He did, straining to hold both his eyes open and his mouth in a stupid grin. Another flash. Sam dropped his shoulders.

  “We’re not done.” She waved at him to move to the right.

  “What?”

  “I said we’re not done.”

  “How many are you going to take?”

  “As many as I want.”

  “Give up, buddy.” His father came around the corner. “You won’t win this argument.” Sam’s dad handed him a clear plastic box with a large silver and blue carnation surrounded by a halo of baby’s breath.

  “What’s that?”

  “A boutonniere.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “You’re supposed to give it to your date.” Becka swept down the steps in a swish of pink and yellow. “If you’d ever actually gone to a dance before, you’d know that.”

  Patty followed Becka with equal superciliousness, wear
ing a dark blue dress with white polka-dots.

  Both had their hair drawn up in a complex braided arrangement complete with glitter highlights.

  They stopped by the front door.

  “Why don’t you take their picture?” Sam said. Surely they’d love that, seeing how many selfies they’d posted on Instagram that morning alone.

  “I already took their pictures.”

  “When?”

  “While they got their hair done, after they got their hair done, and while you watered Mr. Serghi’s plants.”

  “Oh.”

  His mom gave him a look, and Sam assumed the position. Head up, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth touching his ears.

  At least it felt that way.

  The flash blinded him again.

  Patty and Becka giggled.

  Sam couldn’t blame them. He could only look ridiculous.

  Sam’s dad took the keys out of his pocket. “Well, I guess I should escort the princesses to their ball.”

  “You’re just scared she’ll make you pose with me.” Sam eyed his dad.

  He returned the look with a mock salute and opened the door.

  “I still don’t understand why we can’t take a limo. Jennifer’s parents are letting her ride in a limo,” Becka said.

  “If you want a limo that bad, we’ll have to sell your new cell phone.” His dad stepped aside.

  Becka huffed and stormed out.

  Sam’s dad rolled his eyes. “I’ll return in a bit.” He waited for Patty to exit, then closed the door behind them.

  Sam shook his head. “Are they always going to be like that?”

  His mother laughed. “Probably until they’re living on their own. Having to pay the bills changes a person.”

  “Am I that bad?” Sam hated to think he might be.

  “No, sweetheart.” She winced. “Sorry.”

  For some reason, being embarrassed about the endearment didn’t seem to matter anymore either.

  The cast on Sam’s arm gained weight. “I don’t mind.”

  His mom raised her eyebrows.

  “I promise. You can even say it in front of people.” Sam shrugged. He’d even let her hug him and ruffle his hair and never complain. Because he’d almost lost the chance forever.

  “I’m ready.” Katie stood at the top of the steps, wearing the frilly yellow dress she’d gotten for Easter, and a pair of high heels meant for much larger feet. Mascara clumped her eyelashes, garish blue covered the lids, and lipstick some shade of dysfunctional pink painted her lips.

  Sam gave his mom a look, and the one she threw back was a clear, don’t say a word.

  “Do you like my dress?” Katie turned a circle, almost losing her balance.

  “Beautiful, sweetie. You’ll be the prettiest girl at the Build-a-Bear store.”

  “I have a dress.” Stephanie waved her bent wand.

  “Yes, you do, and you’ll be the prettiest too.”

  Katie put her hand on the railing. “I’ll be the prettiest first ’cause I’m oldest.”

  “Katie, take the shoes off.”

  “But I have to wear them.”

  “You can’t walk down the stairs in those.”

  “Yes, I can.” She started to take a step.

  “Wait.” Sam rushed to the top.

  She pulled away. “I can do it myself.”

  “I know, but a princess never walks down the steps alone.” He offered her his arm.

  A smile broke over Katie’s face, and she looped her arm over his wrist.

  Sam took his little sister’s weight as she teetered with the threat of toppling over while descending the stairs.

  When they reached the bottom, Katie hugged him. “Thank you.”

  Sam tucked an arm against his waist and bowed. “You’re very welcome, your majesty.”

  And Sam thought Katie couldn’t smile any bigger. She turned to their mother. “Will you take my picture too?”

  “Absolutely, Princess Katie.”

  “And me.” Stephanie ran over with her wand.

  She put her hand in Sam’s, and he led both his sisters over to the fireplace.

  “Now, you really have to smile.” His mom raised the camera.

  “I’m telling you, a cell phone would be quicker.”

  “Samson…” She threw a glare.

  Sam plastered on a happy expression. With his youngest sister squeezing his hand and the other with her arm over his wrist, it wasn’t that hard.

  The flash on the camera flickered before going bright.

  Sam did his best not to squint. Heaven forbid he mess up another picture by closing his eyes.

  “A couple more.” His mother motioned for them to move away from the hearth “One over here by the plants. It’ll make a nice background.”

  Sam obliged her. At least with Katie and Stephanie in the picture, it didn’t feel so awkward. More like a cooperative game of dress-up.

  A dozen or more poses later, a knock came at the door.

  “I got it.” Katie darted off, high heels flopping. Stephanie followed with her wand held high.

  “There he is.” Sam’s mom lowered the camera. “Right on time. That’s always a good sign.”

  Katie’s high happy voice welcomed Roshan, and Stephanie joined in.

  Even though Sam expected Roshan to walk out of the foyer, his heart still double-tapped the back of his sternum.

  Roshan wore pale gray kurta pajamas with azure highlights. The material caught the light and shimmered as if woven from silver instead of silk.

  He moved the box he carried from one hand to the next before giving a shy wave and wary glance in Sam’s mom’s direction.

  He walked over. “You look nice.”

  Roshan dropped his chin. “Are you sure it’s okay that I wear this instead of a suit?”

  “Yeah. Sure. I like it.” It gave another layer of uniqueness to Roshan.

  Sam’s mom cleared her throat and threw a pointed look down at his hands.

  The box. “Oh, I got you a boutonniere… Well, my dad got it because he’s better at this kind of thing.”

  Roshan held up the box in his hand. It also held a boutonniere with a dark blue rose tipped in gray. “Do you want me to…” He dipped his chin.

  “Oh, uh…sure?” Sam looked for somewhere to set the box. When he couldn’t find a place nearby, he just held it.

  Roshan opened his box. Sam offered to take it too while he extracted the boutonniere.

  “Thanks.” Roshan unsnapped the pin on the arrangement. “I’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to stick you, so be really still.”

  Sam waited while Roshan threaded the pin through the lapel of his jacket.

  “There.” Roshan stepped back.

  “I guess it’s my turn, huh?”

  Roshan took the boxes, and Sam took out the boutonniere. “Where should I, you know, put this?”

  “I guess in the same spot.”

  And the material of Roshan’s shirt was far thinner than Sam’s jacket. “Please, don’t move.” Sam pinched the fabric and pressed his fingers against Roshan’s chest, pulling the silk away from his skin enough to pin the boutonniere without stabbing him with it. “There.” Sam leaned back a little. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  A sniffle caught his attention.

  His mother watched them with a dopey expression and tears in her eyes.

  “Mom…”

  She wiped her thumb under her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

  Embarrassing.

  “Don’t feel bad, Mrs. Waters, my grandmother cried too.”

  Sam’s mom raised the camera. “Pictures.”

  After another agonizing fifteen minutes where Sam had to stand next to Roshan while his mother snapped photos of them from every angle, they were in the car and headed to the dance.

  Roshan shifted in his seat and scrubbed his hands on his thighs.

  “You nervous?” Sam was.

  “Yeah, a little. I mean, we’re go
ing to be in front of all those people and…” Roshan sighed. “More like scared. I’m really scared.”

  Without thinking about it, Sam put a hand over Roshan’s. “Me too.” Admitting it didn’t exactly ease the whirlwind of butterflies in Sam’s stomach, but for some reason, it eased the vice squeezing his lungs.

  Sam’s mom pulled up to the curb. Several cars lined the street in front of the school. Most of them, parents dropping off kids to attend the dance, a few seniors with their own cars jostled for parking in the nearby lot.

  And at least two limos held up the back of the line. Sleek black bullets catching the gaudy colored lights someone had wrapped around the sign welcoming people to East Wind Highschool

  Sam got out and held the door for Roshan.

  His mom turned in her seat a little. “You’ve got your cell phone, right?”

  Sam patted his pants pocket. “Yeah, I have it.”

  “I’ll be back here at 10:45. At this exact spot. Don’t be late.”

  There was too much worry in her eyes for Sam to argue.

  He shut the door. “Okay.”

  Katie leaned forward in her car seat. “Don’t be late, or you’ll turn into a pumpkin, then lose your shoes.”

  “I won’t be late.”

  Sam’s mom looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she nodded and pulled away.

  Other kids drifted past. Girls in all styles of dresses walked with boys in cookie-cutter suits of mundane colors.

  “There’s a lot of people here.” Roshan’s voice broke.

  A traffic jam of students bunched together at the entrance.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Roshan watched the students.

  “Do you?”

  Roshan blinked several times like the question caught him off guard. He looked at Sam. “Yeah.” There was far more strength to the reply than the question.

  “Then so do I.”

  Roshan reached for Sam’s hand.

  Fingers entwined, they walked toward the gym and into the belly of the beast.

  9

  Marcel stood on his porch, cigarette between his thumb and finger.

  A minivan pulled up to the curb in front of Sam’s house. A young man wearing Kurta pajamas got out with a small box in hand.

  He walked to the door.

  He knocked.

  It opened, and the van drove away.

  Marcel took a drag and let the smoke ease from his nose.