King (Executioners Book 3)

by J. M. Dabney

  Yes, he wouldn’t lie. He’d thought about fucking and being fucked by Linc, but he’d also wanted this. Lazy times that built the heat between them until it wasn’t enough.

  “I’ve also wanted my brother-in-law turned ex-brother-in-law for a long time knowing or thinking I’d never have a chance.

  “You like when I touch you, Andrew?”

  He nodded and hummed his affirmative.

  “Do you want more?”

  He jerked his head in a quick nod.

  “Use your words. What do you want?”

  “Stroke my dick.” His voice broke.

  “Like this?” Linc asked.

  The rough, quick jacks on his cock caused his fingers to clench in the sheet and pillow. He cursed the stupid cast as his body bowed, and the cumbersome weight restricted his movements. He awkwardly pushed and pulled his dick through Linc’s fist.

  “So close…” He was so fucking close. He slammed his ass back against Linc’s cock. The frightening thickness notched between his cheeks. Bringing his hand back, he gripped Linc’s hip as the man rutted.

  “Cum, baby,” Linc grunted.

  The sharp nip to the side of his neck caused him to shout as his balls tightened and he came.

  “That was fucking…fuck.”

  Linc held him so tight it was hard to breathe as the wetness spread across his lower back.

  His head felt heavy, and his brain was fuzzy and fried. Between the orgasm and medicine, his energy was tapped out. He turned his head and searched for Linc’s mouth, and when they kissed, it was lazy and almost chaste.

  “I think we’re doing this dating thing backward.”

  “Don’t care.” And he didn’t. Except for the broken leg, there wasn’t anything about that he would change.

  “Go to sleep. I’ll clean us up.”

  He grumbled his protests, but he was too weak to move. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the sounds of Linc moving around, water running, and then everything faded as he fell asleep.

  Nine

  What Now?

  What the hell am I going to do now, Linc silently asked himself as he packed up his apartment. He’d given his notice before things had taken a turn with King. Did he regret it—no. Would he do it again—that was the question he couldn’t answer. Their first kiss had been in the hospital with King on painkillers. The first time they were intimate, again King had been on painkillers.

  He knew he was over thinking the issue, he knew, but that didn’t change the fact he was doing it. Men like him just didn’t get the bad boy that was only good for their man. He wasn’t like his friends Twitch, Gregory, Ben, Elijah, the list of could go on. Their men were scary as fuck—the quintessential bad boys.

  “You’re doing it.” Melanie’s tone was accusatory.

  “Doing what?” he asked as he shoved more books into the box.

  “Questioning shit. You can’t tell me something didn’t happen between you and King. It was written on his face when he leaned in to kiss you, and you avoided it.”

  Not his proudest moment, but he’d felt uncomfortable with Melanie in the room with them. He’d seen the hurt in King’s beautiful eyes. In all the time he’d known King, he’d only seen the man have that look when King’s parents rejected him.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

  “But you did, and you have to apologize, soothe that man’s feelings.”

  “I’m just worried about what you—”

  “Oh, fuck, no, this doesn’t have anything to do with me. King and me are divorced. Except for being co-parents and best friends, there’s nothing between us anymore. I don’t even know if there ever was.”

  He turned and sat down on his couch to study Melanie.

  “What do you mean?”

  She shuffled across the room and plopped down next to him.

  “We were in this sort of best friend’s clusterfuck. Always together. When we were sixteen, everyone was having sex and, oh, fuck, was that drunken first time awkward. There was barely any eye contact for almost a week afterward.”

  “You two just seemed so right together.”

  “That’s because we were best friends. We knew each other better than we even knew ourselves. Like I said before, I knew King was gay before he admitted it. What I’m trying to say is, I’m a non-issue. Don’t ruin what you and King could have because you think I’m going to be heartbroken…I’m not.”

  “But you two have—”

  “Oh, we had sex, lots and lots of sweaty, dirty sex. Did I mention the—”

  “I know!”

  Melanie laughed loudly as she bumped him with her shoulder.

  “Let’s finish packing up your stuff. The movers will be here soon to take everything but your bedroom furniture to storage. Then you can go home to your man. I’ll take Mal out for dinner and leave you and King to do all that mushy stuff.”

  Melanie stood and started to walk off, he reached for her hand and stopped her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. Just fix what you did, deal?”

  He nodded, and once she disappeared, he went back to work. Being the asshole wasn’t him, and hurting King wasn’t an option, but he had hurt him. He needed to take his man on a date to make up for it.

  It was time to move forward since he was a grown ass man of forty. He wasn’t some kid who didn’t know what they wanted. The dream of King finally turned into reality, and he wasn’t going to fuck that up with old insecurities.

  He went back to packing quickly so he could get home.

  The idea of being alone with King had been a good one until Melanie walked out the door with Mal. It felt like he hadn’t spent enough time with Mal lately, and also King withdrew from him when he got home earlier to move everything into his new room.

  His body ached, and he was so tired, but he needed to make everything right, he couldn’t delay. He finger-combed his damp hair and dropped his towel in the hamper as he exited his room. He went in search of King, but it wasn't that hard to find him. The subtle strumming of a guitar and soft singing drew him to the front porch.

  He eased the screen door open and lightly stepped outside. King didn't see him or simply ignored his presence. This was one of the times he didn't mind. King killed it at southern rock or heavy metal when he was on stage, but the man could sing and play Otis Redding’s These Arms of Mine like no one else.

  Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wood siding of the cabin and just listened, watching King's fingers work over the strings. It had been months since he'd been treated to a private show. The deep bass of King's voice caused a chill to move over his skin. So many times over the years, he'd pretended King sang the songs only for him. The man could make the blues sound downright erotic when King took a break from the rough and growling metal.

  The music faded out, and he felt the loss soul deep. He remained quiet in case he was lucky enough to get another song but it didn't happen.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “For what?” King asked without looking at him.

  “You know damn well what.”

  “Everyone has considered me a flirt and a fuck for so long, I just…”

  “I know what you thought, and it had nothing to do with that. It was all me. You have to understand how weird it is to be affectionate when Melanie walks into the room.”

  “We talked about this, Melanie told me you two talked.”

  He rolled his lips between his teeth and sighed heavily through his nose. “I know, but it didn’t prepare me for when she walked into the kitchen. I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

  King lifted his guitar off his lap and leaned it on the wall. “Come here,” King said and patted his lap.

  “I’m too—”

  “Shut the fuck up and come here.”

  He rolled his eyes and strode across the short expanse between them and turned, then lowered himself carefully to King’s lap. The edge of the cast cut into his right thigh and ass cheek.

  “Now
, isn’t that better?”

  “If you’re in that cast longer because you have me sitting on your lap, that’s on you.”

  “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

  The crunch of gravel under heavy tires caused him to squint at the headlights approaching. He started to get up, but King stopped him by wrapping his arms around his waist.

  “I'm not interrupting, am I?”

  He smiled at Livingston Francis’ voice. The large man was Linus Trenton's right-hand man at Trenton Security. The dim porch lights highlighted the planes and dips of the severe scarring that covered the man’s right side. Strangely, it didn’t take away from the handsomeness of Liv. Liv had that dangerous edge that would draw men and women to the bad boy image. Sad thing the man was a complete asshole, but most of the guys who worked for Trenton were.

  “No, what are you doing out here?” King asked.

  “I'm hiding from Little.”

  “What did Little do now,” he inquired, and part of him was frightened to find out.

  The Trenton Security Crew had integrated easily into the dynamic of Twirled, Brawlers, and Executioners Crews over the last few years. They were an odd crew.

  “He locked Pure and Raul in the weapons cage overnight with condoms and lube. Said he wasn't letting them out until they fucked.”

  King laughed loudly.

  A smile played at the edges of his mouth at Liv’s disgusted tone.

  “Why are you hiding? It seems more like Little is the one in trouble,” he asked.

  “Oh, he is. But he snuck into the backseat of my vehicle, and I was halfway home before I realized. I put him out.”

  “Raul in jail yet?”

  Raul was an intense guy. Quick to fight and uber protective of Pure which was weird since Pure was taller than Raul and fifty pounds heavier. Pure’s marksman skills were legendary, and he'd heard Pure was a SWAT sniper before he'd come to work for Linus.

  “No, but Pure was embarrassed as fuck, and that pissed Raul off and, well—”

  “He's out for blood,” King supplied.

  “Yeah. This a new development.” Liv nodded toward them.

  He sighed. “Extremely new.”

  “About fucking time. You two been dancing around each other for as long as I've known y’all. King's been waiting for you to smarten up?”

  “Did everyone know but me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Was he that clueless, so oblivious about King's attraction that he hadn't seen it for years...apparently, he was. He glanced at King as the man's fingertips danced over his rounded stomach and his right love handle. The urge to suck in his stomach hit him, but he tried to dispel the urge.

  King straightened and pressed firm lips to his ear, then whispered, “I know what you just did, and I didn't like it.”

  When King relaxed back in the chair, he started to protest but bit his tongue.

  “You want a beer?”

  “No, man, I'm good, just trying to get Little off my tail. Someone needs to put a leash on that boy.”

  With the way Liv had said that, he was positive Liv meant an actual leash. He’d heard stories about some of the Trenton Crew and some had quite a few kink fetishes. When Liv was asked about finding someone, the man only replied with he didn’t have the time or energy to find his boy.

  King laughed. “He can't get through one date before they start running.”

  “Ain't that the fucking truth. Lily doesn't help. She enables his crazy.”

  He protested, “He's fine. Little will meet someone when he's ready.”

  “Not if Raul disposes of his body before Little gets the chance.”

  “Well, Pure is a little clueless about Raul's interest.”

  “Raul hasn't even asked Pure out.” Liv’s tone deepened with disgust.

  “Linc, Raul ain't gonna ask Pure out. Pure can't run away fast enough.”

  He’d watched Raul and Pure together when they were all at Brawlers. Pure kept so much distance between Raul and himself that it was noticeable. He wondered what Pure had against the man, but Pure didn’t seem to pay attention to anyone. The rumors were Pure had that nickname for a reason, but he couldn’t imagine a man that handsome made it to almost thirty without being touched.

  King’s chuckle pulled him from his thoughts.

  “How did they get out of the cage?”

  “Linus and Pelter had a meeting about a new operation.”

  “Shit,” King said and shook his head.

  “Yep, Pelter threatened a false imprisonment charge, and Little ran…”

  “Right into the backseat of your SUV.”

  “I think Little's van will make it onto a roof before morning. I better get going to let you two have your privacy. I just needed to hide out for a few. Let me know when your next gig at Brawlers is. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “I will, thanks, man, come by anytime.”

  Liv didn’t say anything else, just waved and turned to disappear back into the darkness.

  Suddenly, he was pulled down onto King’s chest.

  “Are we good?” King asked.

  “Yeah, we’re good. I really am sorry. I’m just not used to all this and part of me is waiting—”

  “For me and Melanie to freak out about you and me being together…don’t. We’ve talked about it for years. It may feel weird, but it isn’t. We’ll just take it one step at a time, okay?”

  “Okay. You want dinner?”

  “No, I just want to sit here with you for a bit.”

  He smiled to himself as he laid his head on King’s shoulder and kissed the man’s rough cheek. He inhaled the scent of King and drew it deep into his lungs. If there was one thing he was sure of, the relationship between them wouldn’t be easy. There was a lot they hadn’t worked out. But for the time being, he was happy and hoped he stayed that way.

  Ten

  Blue Balls were Hell

  He was going to get carpal tunnel if he jerked off one more fucking time, but each masturbation session was less enjoyable than the last. Dating Linc was his dream come true. He wasn’t going to complain about that. It would be stupid to protest it, yet every time he tried to initiate sex, Linc protested. The fucking cast was cramping his style, and it didn’t help it itched like a motherfucker. It had already been a month of make-out sessions, and he was about to die. Okay, he was being dramatic, but, fuck, what could one little blowjob hurt?

  The fractures were healing well, and the doctor had told them another month and the cast could probably come off. That was not sitting well with him. He was trapped at home and needed a ride to go anywhere. He missed his motorcycle. At least he got to spend time with Mal and Linc; it was great to be home with his family. Melanie had stayed as long as she could before she had to go back to school and work.

  He’d told Melanie countless times he’d pay for her to go to school so she wouldn’t have to work, just focus on her studies. He would remember that punch until his dying day.

  “Daddy,” Mal squealed, and he turned to find his son behind him being chased by Rage and Gunner.

  Oh man, they took pleasure in making his son scream as they tickled him, but if Mal fell and got a scrape, the twins were devastated.

  The air whooshed from his lungs as Mal launched his sturdy little body onto his stomach.

  “Give him back,” Rage demanded.

  Gunner just glared at him. Those two were like mini-versions of Psycho. The man could’ve had the twins himself; their personalities must be genetic.

  “And why should I do that?” he asked as he rubbed his giggling son’s back.

  The twin heavy sighs amused him and the fact they tipped their heads back like they were counting to ten. A complete Psycho move.

  “Where are your dads at?”

  “Locked in the bathroom. We need tools.”

  “And why do you need tools?”

  They looked at him like he was an idiot. That’s what happened when you named your kids Gunner and Rage.

/>   “To take the da…door apart.”

  “Rage, you’re not taking the door apart, they’ll be out in a minute. Now, what were y’all doing to Mal?”

  “We made him lunch.”

  He was terrified now. “What did y’all make him for lunch?”

  “We had Pop make it. It’s good.” Gunner sounded highly offended.

  “The hot dogs are white.”

  Of course, soy dogs. He’d been a bit disturbed when he saw Psycho making them for the twins.

  “Maybe Mal wants something else.”

  “Do you know what they do to animals to make food?” The twins asked, their voices raised with each word.

  “No, and Mal doesn’t need to know, now, does he? Psycho,” he yelled.

  “What the fu—what?” Psycho walked into the living room with a very mussed Ben under his arm.

  “Soy dogs, really?”

  “You carnivores disgust me. Come on, Mal, I’ll make you a sandwich.” Psycho plucked Mal from his lap, and he barely avoided a foot to the face.

  “Pop, give him to us,” Rage and Gunner protested as they took off staying close to Psycho’s heels.

  “Our sons need to learn that not all meat is murder,” Ben said with amusement as he plopped down beside King.

  Ben’s hair was grayer and the lines on his face a bit deeper than when he’d met the other man, yet he hadn’t seen a man as happy with his partner. Psycho couldn’t stand to not touch Ben when they were together. They were like that couple everyone wanted to be like. And to be honest, he was surrounded by happy couples, and he wanted to be like them.

  “It doesn’t seem to be harming them in the growth department. They’re not much older than Mal, and they’re already at least six inches taller.”