by Lane Hart
“I’m not talking about being stranded,” he says. “I meant what has happened with us. I can’t be mad at you for being confused. It wasn’t fair, what I did to you. The night you were arrested…I shouldn’t have done that. You were just so angry I was scared you were going to kill those guys. And I thought you would stop me. Why the fuck didn’t you stop me?”
“Christ, you think I haven’t asked myself that same question a million times in five years? I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t know why I didn’t just knock your hands away when they reached for my belt or pulled down my zipper. And I don’t know why it’s all I’ve thought about for five goddamn years!”
“Thought about it like hated me for it or thought about it in a good way?” he asks so softly I can barely hear him over the wind and waves breaking nearby.
“Both. Mostly…good.”
“Oh.”
“And do you know how much guy on guy sex there is in prison?” I ask him. “A lot. All the time. Like a constant reminder of how fucked up I was to think about you like that.” My dad would’ve beat the shit out of me if he had known I had been with another man.
Reaching over hesitantly, Gabe lightly brushes his fingertips over the lines of the tattoo on my chest, the one he inked on me a long time ago, the first day he opened his tattoo shop. I was his first customer, getting inked before even his brother Abe because I knew how excited he was to have his own place.
“What’s wrong with thinking about me like that?” he questions. “It’s not like any of the Kings are psychic and would find out what’s going on in your head.”
“Because you were a kid. You were a prospect, and I was your sponsor!”
“I was twenty years old,” he says.
“You couldn’t legally drink yet.”
“I was old enough to ink you. And I was old enough to know that I wanted you when I went down on you,” Gabe tells me.
“You were young and confused,” I mutter.
“What? You think I was innocent back then and didn’t know I liked men yet?” he huffs. “That night…I wasn’t a virgin, Ian. I was fifteen and living on the streets the first time I was with a man. That was two years before I ever fucked a woman.”
“Seriously?” I say, my eyebrows lifting in surprise as I sit up in the sand. I had no idea he had his sexuality figured out when he was so young. I’m coming up on thirty and am still apparently clueless. “You were with men first?”
“I was.”
“And you lived on the streets?” I ask since I never knew that either. I always thought of myself as poor, white trash, but not even my worthless, abusive father would’ve let me end up fending for myself.
“Yeah, I did,” he answers as his fingers trail down to my stomach, tickling and causing some tingling sensations to happen even lower. “Abe thought I was living in foster homes after our mom overdosed and while he was in prison. I couldn’t tell my brother or anyone else the truth – that I sucked dick so I could eat a hot meal at night and sleep in a real bed for a few hours.”
My stomach flips, and I feel sick hearing him say that. Not just because he was with other men, which I hate, but because he was all alone and didn’t have a choice. I hate that he had to struggle like that and wish I could’ve done something back then to help him.
“So you…did you do those sorts of things for money?” I ask.
“Yes, Ian. I let men fuck me for cash. I fucked some of them, if that was what they wanted. You name it and I probably did it, so I wasn’t some innocent kid when I blew you,” he tells me. “I’m not this good little boy scout you think I am.”
“You were only a kid back then, though,” I reply. “Someone should’ve been looking out for you so you wouldn’t have to do that shit. You could’ve been killed or hurt by one of those sick fucking perverts!”
“Well, there wasn’t anyone I could count on to help me stay alive other than the sick fucking perverts,” Gabriel says as he sits up and wraps his arms around his knees. “You think I wanted to be used, to be their secret fuck boy? They threw me out when they were finished with me and went right back to their wives, pretending nothing happened. They acted like what they did with me didn’t count or matter,” he explains. “I didn’t have any other choice back then. Life didn’t exactly give me many options when my mom overdosed, and I had no clue where Abe was living after we got separated by the system. Yeah, it’s a goddamn miracle I survived without getting killed by anyone or catching any STDs.”
Now I want to throw up because what I did to him wasn’t all that different from those men when he was a teenager on the streets. I used him, took what I needed, and then pushed him aside.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, meaning not just for his past but for what I did. “I wish you had told me all of that before.”
“Before I started paying the guards off to blow you once a damn week?” he asks. “You never once tried to put a stop to that, so what changed from the night you got arrested?”
“You were several years older by then, so I was feeling less guilty and so fucking horny,” I admit. “And I liked it, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Seeing you…it was the one thing I had to look forward to when time felt like it was standing still in there. You were the only person who kept coming to see me even when you knew I didn’t want to talk and only wanted to use your mouth.” I know the other Kings would take a bullet for me, but dropping in to say hello wasn’t exactly high on their list of priorities. Now I’ve figured out that most of them were starting families and shit, so I can’t blame them for not dropping everything to drive a few hours to see me.
“I liked it too,” Gabe says, pressing his palm to my chest to guide me back down onto the sand. He doesn’t pull his hand away even once I’m flat on my back. “The only thing I would’ve changed was that I wanted there to be more. I wanted you touching every part of me. I wanted to feel you everywhere, like that day in the shop. It wasn’t just the sex but the need, the craving for me, like you couldn’t live a second longer without being inside of me.”
“This could never work between us, even if I gave up women. You know that, right?” I ask him when his fingertips start to move lower, now past my belly button.
“No, I don’t know that.”
“Gabe, you’ve been with a lot of men, and I don’t have any fucking clue what I’m supposed to do. I’m just…I’m not gay!”
“No one said you were gay! You’re bisexual.”
“I don’t like men!” I argue. “I don’t want to be with any men. Ever. I just, I like being with you.”
“Well, the last time I checked, I still have a dick,” Gabe says with a grin. “And it’s too big to try and tuck away.”
“I know that!” I shout with a cringe. “It’s easier for me to try and pretend it’s not there, though. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to suck you off or let you fuck me.” Despite my words, my mouth waters at just the thought of giving his cock a little lick. The problem isn’t wanting to do it, it’s actually having the balls to act on it. I can’t promise him that I ever will.
“It’s not like there’s some sort of guidebook to being bisexual, Ian,” he responds. “You just do whatever feels good with whoever you want, one man or dozens of men. There are no rules of what you have to do. But nothing is right or wrong. Don’t you get that? What we did together, what we still want to do together isn’t wrong, okay? It’s just different than what you’ve been doing your whole life, and you’re scared. I am too. But you’re the first person, man or woman, that I’ve ever been with who made me feel something more...”
I cut off his ranting when I grab the back of his neck to pull his mouth down to mine. I’m not sure what I expected my first time kissing a man, but Gabriel’s full lips are soft and pliable, pressing eagerly against mine. And when I shove my tongue into his mouth, melding it with his warm, wet one, a hot jolt of pleasure shoots down my spine and makes my balls heavy. It’s the same delicious sensation I feel kissing a woman, kissing
Quincey.
Fuck. I still want to be with her. Bad. So, so fucking bad that I can’t see myself ever giving up trying to convince her to give me a chance. She’s not a woman I can just simply forget. Gabriel may be a part of me that’s physically tattooed into my flesh, but Quincey’s already under my skin too, and I don’t think she’ll be leaving any time soon. I won’t let her.
“Quincey…” I whisper against Gabe’s lips before his tongue plunges into my mouth hard and then retreats.
“I know,” he replies on a heavy sigh between soft kisses, his dark eyes glazed over with need as they lock with mine. “Let me have one night with you, and then she can have all the rest.”
“You sure about that?” I ask him since I can’t seem to find the answer to that question myself. It seems impossible to choose between the two of them, and not just because being with Quincey would be easier.
Gabe simply responds to my question by slipping his hand under the waistband of my shorts, wrapping his fingers around my swollen shaft. That’s all it takes to silence all the thoughts in my mind. Right now I just need him.
A second later and Gabriel’s on his back with my body weight pressing him into the sand, all without breaking our kiss. It’s too goddamn good to stop. I think I could get off from how amazing his tongue feels sliding against my own. Not that Gabriel seems to have any plans on ending this anytime soon either. One of his hands is on the back of my head, holding it to his mouth while the other grabs a handful of my ass, pressing me down on him harder.
And stranded here alone on a deserted island with him, I plan to finally give in to the need for him I haven’t ever been able to shake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gabriel
Did I really just agree to let Quincey have Ian if he gives in to me tonight?
In the back of my mind, I know it’s stupid; and yet at the moment I would do anything, promise him the entire world, as long as he doesn’t stop kissing me.
Honestly, I would’ve expected him to punch me before he ever caved and put his mouth on mine. And fuck, it’s better than any kiss I’ve ever had before. Not that I’ve had all that many with men. Guys don’t tend to want to make out, preferring to get right down to business.
But no matter what happens right now or tonight, I know the only reason Ian gave in is because we’re all alone on an island where no one can see or hear us. It’ll be easy for him to pretend like it never happened tomorrow once we’re back on the mainland and he’s with Quincey.
Damn you, Quincey!
How can I hate her when she’s the one responsible for leaving me marooned on the island with Ian? I don’t know how, but some way I’m going to find a way to thank her for the best kiss, and what I expect will most likely be the best night of my entire fucking life based on the urgency with which Ian is jerking my boardshorts down my legs. His are gone a second later, and we both moan into each other’s mouths when our hard dicks rub against each other.
“I want you so fucking bad,” Ian pants as his mouth moves to my neck and his teeth bite down while he humps me, his hips pumping, his cock dripping wet, desperate to bury itself inside of me.
“Tanning oil,” I gasp.
“What?” he asks, lifting his head to look down at me and giving us both a chance to suck in a little oxygen back into our lungs.
“Grab some tanning oil to lube up,” I explain. “Trust me, it’ll be better for both of us.”
“Oh. Right,” he says as he glances around the beach. “I told you I didn’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Now you do,” I point out.
“Hold on,” he says as he unfortunately climbs off of me. He grabs his discarded shorts to hold in front of his junk as he wanders down the beach in search of some tanning oil. I’m not sure if he’s covering himself because he’s worried someone will come along on a boat and see us or if he doesn’t want me to see how turned on he is. Either way, he’s being ridiculous and it’s pretty cute.
“Found it!” he yells, holding the bottle up above his head triumphantly before he comes back and straddles my waist, tossing his shorts aside. He sprays the coconut scented liquid on his hands and then…
“Oh, fuck!” I exclaim when his slick palm strokes down my shaft. Ian’s never touched my dick before, so I definitely wasn’t expecting that. “That, ah, that feels really good,” I look up at him to tell him as he keeps jacking me off. “But, um, I’m not the one who needs to lube up.”
“I know,” he replies. “I just…I wanted to.”
“Yeah?” I say in surprise.
“You’re smaller than me,” he says with a grin when he lines his cock up beside mine.
“Thanks for that,” I huff even though it’s hard to be mad at him when he’s making me feel good.
“But you’re thicker,” he adds. “My fingers barely touch.”
Seeing him staring down at my dick, while his big palm moves up and down it is so damn hot, I nearly bust my load right then and there.
Ian slides back on my thighs, and then his slick fingers are reaching between my legs to cup my nuts and give them a firm squeeze.
“Are you…trying to embarrass me?” I ask him as he plays with my balls.
Brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on my lower body, he says, “I, um, I think I like touching you.” Oh, thank fuck. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” I shout. “Touch me. Please. Anywhere. Everywhere.”
And god, it’s like a dream come true when Ian leans down and flicks the tip of his tongue over my nipple while his hand keeps moving on my balls, up my shaft, and back down again.
I’m gonna come so hard and fast, and fuck it, I don’t even care.
Even though I wanted to keep watching Ian touching me, my eyes are closed when he asks, “You’re close, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Don’t stop,” I say when I feel a drop of pre-cum drip from my tip. The pad of Ian’s thumb swipes over my sensitive slit and my head tips back as I let out a needy moan. When his hand releases my shaft, I curse in disappointment. But when I open my eyes, it’s just in time to see Ian’s tongue swipe over his thumb, tasting me.
“Not bad,” he says in surprise. “You’re salty like the ocean.”
“You’ve never tasted your own cum?” I ask him.
“Hell no,” he replies, but then he licks his lips like he’s enjoying the flavor.
I wrap my hand around the root of my cock to hold it out toward him in offering. When he actually leans down and runs his tongue around my crown, I have to bite back a curse, afraid I’ll scare him away.
My eyes roll back in my head at the amazing feeling of his wet tongue on me, and I can’t help but stroke my shaft once, twice, and then my abs tighten before I erupt like a milky volcano. The thick cream runs over my fingers and still Ian’s tongue keeps lapping at the substance with small, hesitant licks. I’d love for him to take my cockhead into his mouth and suck me through my release. But just having him touch me with his mouth and hand at all today is a huge step for him.
When Ian’s lips crash back down to mine, I can feel his patience snap from the rough way he attacks my mouth. He’s desperate for his own relief and I’m ready to give it to him. His slick fingers are just as insistent as his mouth when they probe me urgently. He shoves one into me and then two, pumping them in and out until I’m good and ready for him.
Ian breaks our kiss, and then his face is hovering above me, his hands pushing my knees up and out as he lines himself up. He takes himself in his hand and feeds his cock into me one slow inch at a time without taking his eyes off my face.
I see everything in his deep blue eyes, how good I feel, how much he wants me, and how terrified he is about finally admitting both of those things to himself.
“It’s okay,” I tell him when he goes still. “Just tonight, right?”
“Just for tonight you’re mine,” he agrees with a stiff nod, and then he slams the rest of the way inside of me, taking my breath, my words and my
broken heart away until the sun comes up tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ian
Since my internal clock is still set to six a.m., I’m awake before sunrise, going for a swim in the cool waves before finally putting my boardshorts back on while Gabriel still sleeps under the canopy, covered partially up by a beach towel.
Last night was earth-shattering. I swear I felt the ground shaking after the second time we fucked. I’ve never come so hard in my life. It was something about being out here on the beach, surrounded by mother nature and giving in to what I’ve wanted for a long time that made me feel like I was free for the very first time in my life.
But today, it’s back to the real world where I have to make an impossible decision.
How the hell am I supposed to know what to do? If I don’t go after Quincey, I know that I’ll always regret it. At the same time, if I give up Gabriel, I won’t be able to survive seeing him with someone else, not a woman and certainly not another fucking man. He’s been mine since the day he and his brother showed up at the Savage Asylum and I asked Torin if I could be his sponsor.
I still don’t know why the fuck I volunteered. Chase had recruited Abe, and the two of them were tight from serving time together, so Chase was the obvious choice to oversee Abe’s prospecting years. I had never sponsored anyone before and had just barely earned my own patch. But Gabriel looked so fragile standing next to his confident, big beast of a brother, like the world was one second away from breaking him.
Now I’m starting to think Gabriel wasn’t the one who needed help. I was. I was broken and cynical, a felon with no future. Gabe has more goddamn talent in his pinkie than I do in my entire body. He’s an amazing artist with a big heart. I don’t want to be the one who holds him back.
And when I see a big boat headed our way, it looks like our time here in our own little paradise is over.