“You,” Josh said. “I’m yours, Connor.”
The finger retreated and the paddle came down again, more gently it seemed. One, two, three smacks, then Josh stopped counting. It stopped, Connor’s fingers resuming their play with his hole. He rubbed Josh's buttocks again, then smacked them rapidly in succession. Another ten blows. Fingers fucking him. Rough, but gentle hands kneading his ass. More strikes with the paddle.
Noah shouted out at some point. Another orgasm. Indy, too, though quieter. Good. He was happy for them.
Pain and pleasure mixed until Josh lost all track of time. He reached that stage where everything faded away, subspace. All that was left was his body, Connor’s body. Connor stopped paddling him and pushed him down on his knees. He offered him his cock and Josh took it, opening wide. He sucked until he ran out of breath, saliva dripping from his chin. When Connor pulled back, he whimpered.
“You need to breathe, baby,” Connor said.
Josh obeyed, sucking in painful breaths. Almost automatically he opened his mouth again and was rewarded with Connor’s cock. He rolled those big balls in his hands, reveling in the feel and weight. Connor’s hand caressed his head, his hair, his ears. “You’re such a good sub, Josh. You bring me such pleasure.”
The peace inside him was indescribable. All thoughts ceased, the only thing remaining was obedience to Connor. He’d do everything and anything Connor told him right now.
Connor’s balls pulled up in his hands and seconds later he came down Josh's throat. He slurped up every last drop, not wanting to spill even a little. Strong hands lifted him to his knees and sat him down on Connor’s dick. “Open up for me, baby, I’m not done with you yet.”
Josh relaxed his hole and took Connor in within seconds. He lowered himself until his ass was touching Connor’s legs. His own cock was leaking with arousal, but he ignored it. Instead, he started riding Connor, rode him hard and deep until his legs gave out. Connor took over, fucking him until he came again in Josh's ass, moaning almost inhumanly.
Josh's eyes were closed as he slumped against Connor, too tired to even lift a finger. His ass hurt like a motherfucker, both the skin of his cheeks and his hole where Connor had pounded the shit out of him. He smiled, reveling in the sensation of feeling utterly used. “I love you,” he whispered.
Connor lifted him up, carried him into the bathroom. Apparently, Noah and Indy had left at some point. Josh cuddled close to him as Connor bathed him tenderly, toweled him off, then rubbed cooling lotion on his ass. He carried him to the guest bedroom, lowered him on the bed.
“I’m gonna sleep for a few hours, and I want to hold you,” Connor said. He crawled in bed next to Josh, putting his arm around him to draw him close. Josh draped himself all over Connor, put his head on Connor’s shoulder and fell asleep within seconds.
* * *
Noah’s body protested as he took it through the physical therapy exercises. He was determined to get back on his feet as soon as possible—metaphorically speaking, since he only had one foot left. He’d already had an appointment with the prosthesis specialist for a first fitting. It would take at least a few weeks before the wound was healed enough to use a prosthesis, but he wanted to get it right this time.
He went through the exercises with care, forcing his body to cooperate. It was hard but still a lot easier than after he’d gotten blown up. Aside from the amputation wound, he had no other physical limitations other than the fact that he was still way more tired than he’d been before. The whole ordeal had taken a lot out of him.
Indy had gone to Kent for a jiujitsu lesson. Noah had asked him if he needed money to pay Kent, but Indy had waved it off. “I don’t need to pay. Kent does it for free to honor my professor, Matt Fox.”
Noah had nodded, even though he didn’t understand. Who was this Matt Fox, and what was his influence that jiujitsu schools everywhere would teach Indy for free? He’d have to ask him sometime.
It bothered Noah that Indy had to go by himself. Of course he was more than capable of driving, and he was taking Noah’s car, but Noah didn’t like the idea of him being by himself. Sure, in a physical altercation he could defend himself better than Noah, Josh, and Connor combined, but still. If something happened, if he got spooked for some reason, Noah didn’t want him to be on his own. Indy’s flight instinct was strong, and even though he’d promised he’d stay, it wouldn’t take much to make him run again. If he suspected any of them were in danger because of him, he’d take off. And the idea of facing life without Indy took Noah’s breath away. Literally.
The stairs creaked, both Josh and Connor coming down after sleeping for a few hours. Josh was walking carefully, Noah noticed. No wonder, after that pounding he took. Plus, that paddle had smacked his ass raw and red. Unbelievable the guy was into that, but there was no denying he loved it. He’d completely zoned out, his eyes glazed over, and his cock rock hard.
It still blew Noah away that Connor had done it in front of him and Indy. He’d never pegged the straight-laced cop as a sexual beast and clearly an exhibitionist, but he’d been wrong. He wasn’t about to bring it up, though.
“Did you catch some sleep?” he asked Connor. He knew from experience how shitty shifts were on your system.
“Yeah. About four hours, which will tide me over. Only one more night and then I’m back on days.”
“Where’s Indy?” Josh asked.
“Jiujitsu.”
Josh looked guilty. “Fuck. I promised I’d take him.”
“You were otherwise engaged,” Noah said. “Don’t worry about it. He should be right back.”
Connor turned the TV on. “What do you want to eat, babe?” Josh asked from the kitchen. “Want me to make an omelet?”
“Yes, please.”
“For me too, please?” Noah asked. They were so lucky to have Josh, because he and Connor both sucked in the kitchen.
“Feta cheese or grated cheese?”
Noah waited for Connor to answer, but he was watching the TV with complete focus. “Oh, fuck,” Connor said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Noah grabbed his crutch and moved next to Connor. The TV showed images of a body being carried out of a burned-down house. His eyes trailed to the caption. “Boston District Attorney Merrick and family murdered in house fire.”
His heart stopped. Merrick was dead? Holy fuck.
“What’s going on?” Josh asked, stepping in from the kitchen.
“That Boston DA, Merrick, was killed. His family, too,” Connor said, his voice hoarse. He turned up the volume.
Josh gasped. “Are the Fitzpatricks behind this?”
“I don’t know. The guy was a DA and in a city like Boston, that puts a big fucking target on your back. But there are few criminals who would sink low enough to take out his family as well,” Connor said. He reached out for Josh, Noah saw, and helped ground him.
A female reporter did a stand-up piece with the remnants of the burned home in the background. Her voice was factual and stern. “The police have confirmed the fire started around three in the morning and had multiple origins, which has led the police to treat this as a murder case. Boston District Attorney Dylan Merrick was home at the time of the fire with his wife Chantal and their two daughters Daisy and Melody, aged four and six. All have tragically perished in the fire.”
Noah said, “Indy. We have to get to Indy. If he hears, he’ll run.”
“If he hears what?” Indy said. They’d been so caught up in the news, they hadn’t even heard him come in.
Noah turned around to face him. “Don’t run,” he pleaded. “Please, Indy, don’t. We can find a solution.”
Indy’s eyes focused on the TV screen, and he took a wavering step forward. His eyes widened as he took the news in. “They killed Merrick?” he whispered.
The reporter wasn’t done with sharing what she knew. “Merrick was known for being tough on crime, especially organized crime. He brought many successful cases against criminals like the O’Shea crime family,
and notorious drug dealer Benny ‘Shady’ Durant. Although the police have denied any leads as to the identity of his killers, rumor on the street is that Merrick was preparing a new case against the Fitzpatrick family. This family, known as the Boston Irish mob, has allegedly been responsible for dozens of crimes, including drug trafficking, prostitution, illegal racing and betting, rape, and more than a few murders. No felony or murder charges against the leaders have ever stuck, however. A little over a year ago, Merrick had indicted the top leaders and lieutenants of the Fitzpatricks, but had to drop the case when his star witness disappeared. To this day, no one knows the whereabouts of Stephan Moreau, but he is believed to have been killed by the Fitzpatricks. Considering Merrick’s determination in bringing this crime family down, it only makes sense the police would look at them as suspects in this gruesome murder.”
Noah’s stomach lurched as Indy’s picture was shown on the screen. His hair was a lot shorter and blonder and showed spikes instead of curls. He also looked younger, but the resemblance was undeniable. Noah wanted nothing more than to reach out to Indy, to hold him tight so he couldn’t run. One look at Indy’s face proved the stupidity of that plan. He’d come to recognize Indy’s body language, and he was in full-on “don’t touch me” mode.
“They took out his entire family,” Indy whispered. “How could they murder those two little girls?”
“It’s a warning,” Connor said, his face grim. He was still holding on to Josh, who was leaning against him. “Nobody will dare to bring a case against them now, or that’s their reasoning.”
“It’s a warning to me.” Indy’s voice was level, but his face betrayed his emotion. “They know I’m still alive. If rumors were flying around that Merrick was preparing a new case, they must’ve figured I’d gotten back in touch with him. This is to scare me off.”
Noah wanted to console him, wished he could offer him a reassurance that it wasn’t the case, but he couldn’t. The exact same thought had flashed through his mind. There was one thing he could say. “This is not your fault.”
Indy sighed, a sad sound. “I know. This is on them, not on me. No matter what I would’ve done, they still would’ve killed him.”
“Could they’ve found any evidence in Merrick’s home or on his person that could’ve led back to you?” Noah asked Connor.
“No. I used an acquaintance of mine who’s a Boston cop. He had regular contact with Merrick, nothing to warrant any interest.”
“And your cop friend, you’re sure he’s straight?” Indy asked.
“Yeah. He comes from a long line of stubborn, Italian-tempered cops. They want nothing to do with the Irish on principle, let alone with the Fitzpatricks. His father works for Internal Affairs for fuck’s sake, so yeah, I trust him.”
Finally, Indy reached out to Noah, and his heart calmed down a bit. Indy stepped close, leaning his head back against Noah’s chest. Noah’s arms came around him and pulled him as tight as he could without losing his balance. “I love you,” he said. He needed to say it, wanted Indy to hear it one more time.
“I love you, too.” Indy was quiet for a minute or so as they all stared at the TV. The news had moved on to another story, something about a woman finding a stack of cash in a garbage bag.
“I’m gonna testify,” Indy said suddenly.
Noah froze. What?
“They killed two little girls. It’s enough. I’m gonna bring those motherfuckers down.”
Pride and fear battled in Noah’s heart. “Indy…”
“I have to. I can’t keep making excuses, when all it comes down to is fear. I know it’ll cost me, but it has to be worth it if it stops the violence.”
He turned around and sought Noah’s embrace. Noah held him, a thousand thoughts in his head but none of them sufficient for this moment.
“But who will prosecute now?” Josh asked.
Connor’s mouth was grim. “This case just got bumped to the upper echelons of the FBI. That’s good news for Indy, by the way, since it’s a helluva lot harder to bribe Feds than it is to buy off cops. They’ll offer him witness protection.”
“No,” Noah spoke automatically. “Not if it means breaking off all ties. He has a life here. We have a life here.”
Indy leaned back, rose on his toes and kissed Noah softly. “Not your decision to make, my bossy man. I need to think about this, all of this, okay?”
“Talk to me before you make any decisions, baby, please. We need to do this together.”
Indy hesitated, then nodded. “I promise.”
7
Blake barely recognized himself as he paced the living room. Where had his self-control and discipline gone? He’d never felt like this in his life. Impatient. Wanting. Needing.
He’d texted Charlie on a whim, his student with the drag queen act, and asked him if he had time to come over. Charlie had been excited, grateful to do something for Blake for once. He’d been in Aaron’s room for the last two hours, doing fuck knew what. Blake had knocked once, about fifteen minutes ago, asking how long they still needed. Charlie hadn’t even opened the door, had shouted at him to fuck off and be patient.
The funny thing was that Blake usually had patience. And self-control. But for some reason, both were in short supply when it came to Aaron. The man had managed to break through all of his usual defenses. As much as Blake teased him about Sexy Aaron, he couldn’t deny a whole new side of himself was coming out as well.
He liked who he was with Aaron, this sexually confident guy who got to order around his pretty, cute little puppy. It scared him a little, too. He’d broken rules he’d never imagined violating, like hooking up with a student, fooling around with someone who was staying with him, and messing around in his own house.
Aaron’s door opened, and Charlie stepped out. Blake shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure if he’d like how Aaron would look. What if Charlie had made him too girly? He wasn’t sure if he would be into that kind of thing but vowed to be kind no matter what. Aaron needed encouragement, regardless of Blake’s personal preferences.
Charlie sent him a beaming smile. He looked like he was happy with the result, at least. “Come on out, sugar,” he called out to Aaron.
Seconds later, Aaron appeared. He was wearing the low-riding, tight jeans that clung to his hips, ass, and legs—and he was obviously naked underneath. He’d combined it with a short, purple ribbed top that exposed a tantalizing strip of his skin between the hem and his jeans. White Converse with pink glitter decorations finished his look. Charlie had painted Aaron’s eyes in shades of pink, with purple eyeliner and black mascara and had put a hint of pink gloss on his luscious lips.
Aaron was breathtakingly gorgeous.
Blake swallowed, unable to find words. “You’re perfect,” he finally said.
Aaron’s eyes, so hesitant and insecure before, rose to meet his. “Really?”
“Fuck, yes. You’re beautiful, Aaron. Absolutely stunning.”
“Turn around,” Charlie told Aaron.
He did, exposing a temporary tattoo on his shoulder blade, visible underneath the racerback of his top. Pink hearts. Blake’s gaze trailed lower, rested on the top of Aaron’s crack, peeping out from under the jeans.
“He’s completely waxed,” Charlie grinned, apparently following his thoughts. “There’s not a hair left on his body down there.”
Blake swallowed again. When Charlie said completely, he meant completely. Smooth skin, smooth balls, smooth asshole. Hot damn, the thought alone made him want to drag Aaron back to his room and start the party right here and now.
“I’d better bring my baseball bat,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna need it to keep the guys off you.”
Aaron sent him a smile that was sexy and shy at the same time, like he couldn’t believe Blake meant it.
“Thanks so much, Charlie. You gonna come to the club as well?” Blake asked.
“Nah. Not feeling like it today.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. Something was off. He o
bserved as Charlie carefully hugged Aaron, who returned the embrace with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. Well, it was hard not to like Charlie. He was a sweetheart.
He was also hurt, moving unnaturally stiffly.
“Who hurt you?” he asked straight out.
Charlie flinched, avoiding Blake’s look.
“You’re not leaving until you tell me, and you know better than to try and lie.” His voice was stern, but his face kind and compassionate. He had a pretty good idea but needed Charlie to admit it.
“He didn’t mean it, Blake. It’s not what you think.”
He stepped closer and reached out to lift Charlie’s colorful shirt. He waited a beat to give Charlie the opportunity to stop him, but he didn’t. A large, colorful bruise painted his ribs on his right side. A check on his back revealed more bruises, all of them recent.
He closed the distance between them, taking him gently in his arms despite the rage bubbling inside him. “This is not accidental, babe. You know better. He’s hurting you.”
Charlie put his head against Blake’s chest. He was at least a head shorter than Blake, and a waif of a man. No match for his six foot two boyfriend, a massive asshole by the name of Zack.
“It’s complicated, Blake,” Charlie sighed, his voice thin and on the verge of breaking.
“I know. You deserve better, though. Stay here tonight, think it over.”
“I can’t impose on you like that,” Charlie protested. “Besides, Aaron said you’re full at the moment.”
If Charlie had asked Aaron about the people staying right now, that meant he’d considered moving out. Bingo. “You can stay in Aaron’s room. Aaron, move your stuff into my room for now.”
For once, Aaron didn’t protest or ask questions. Blake reminded himself to thank him for that later. He released Charlie, kissed him on the top of his head. “Grab a shower, get some rest. There are spare clothes in the hallway closet in various sizes. Take whatever you need. There’s toiletries in the bathroom cabinet. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
No Shame: The Complete Series: Including exclusive bonus materials and deleted scenes Page 62
