Malachi's Wish: Four Corners Series (The Four Corners Series)

by J S Grey

  Blake’s band was unbelievable. I’d watched him play, seen the easy way his fingers traveled up and down his Gibson guitar, felt the smokiness of his voice as it caressed my ears. I’d allowed myself to look at him, the thick dark hair and deep soulful eyes, the denim collar open to his chest, the smattering of dark hair there making my stomach clench, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his elbows, revealing densely muscled forearms. My mouth had gone dry watching him. That had started my year-long obsession with the leader of Cinder Faith.

  “Hey, Niall.” Ashamed by how my body reacts to the depth of his voice, I nod slightly before turning my attention back to the bar. “How’s it going tonight? Busy?”

  I turn in confusion to stare at him; he’s been here all night as well, he knows how busy we have been. He winces, biting the inside of his cheek and muttering under his breath.

  “We’ve been fine,” I grin. I look around to see if Lisa is on the floor collecting empties but I can’t see her anywhere. “Have you seen Trouble?” I ask him, indicating the empty spot next to me.

  He shakes his head, “No, I think she might have gone to the bathroom. Why? Do you need some help?”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “No, it’s fine, I think I have it under control here. Plus you just got off stage, you have to be exhausted.” His smile is sweet as he laughs lightly.

  “I’m good, seriously, scoot over.” He comes around the bar, moving behind me to the other side. Between the taps and the fridges, there isn't much room to maneuver around each other. My breath hitches as he presses close behind me; I feel his chest pressed along my back, his breath hot on my neck, his hand gripping my waist as he slides along my body. Fire dances along my skin, where his fingertips grip my hip.

  “Hnmphh.” I’m not exactly sure what I’m trying to say, but I’m pretty confident I mean it. My cock thickens behind my jeans, moisture starts to form on my chest, sticking the white vest underneath my black shirt to my skin. I crane my neck to see him grin as he picks some empty glasses off the bar and starts loading the washer.

  “What was that?” he says, looking at me over his shoulder, mischief in his eyes.

  “Oh, it was nothing,” I bark quickly, “just clearing my throat.”

  “Is that right?” he smirks.

  I notice that we are 45 minutes until closing time, so I grab hold of the bell-rope and clang the bell across the bar. “Last Orders!” I bellow. “We're closing in thirty.” I give myself a fifteen-minute leeway to clear the last of the stragglers out.

  “Do you mind if I help you close up?” his voice whispers in my ear as he suddenly appears behind me once again. I bite back a groan and his hand once again finds its way to my hip.

  “Lisa is here, she can help me,” I finally manage to rasp out.

  “Oh, I think I misunderstood your question earlier,” he says, mock surprise on his face, “I actually sent Lisa home and told her I was here to help you.”

  “Is that right?” I ask, mimicking his previous question. He bites his lip and goes back to clearing the bar.

  Chapter Three

  “Goodnight, guys,” I call down the street as I close the heavy wooden doors, securing the top and bottom locks, then walking back up the few steps into the bar area. Now the place is empty apart from Blake and me, the space seems thick with tension and claustrophobic somehow.

  “Get the last guys out of the bar?” Blake calls, coming in from the small storeroom at the rear of the bar.

  “Yeah, they left,” I smile. I grab a large grey tray from the bar, moving around the room collecting empty glasses, throwing the empty beer and wine bottles into a large black plastic trash can.

  “So we never really get a chance to talk,” Blake suddenly shouts, “just you and me, I mean.”

  I continue collecting the empties and trash, not wanting to meet the stare I know he is giving me. “It would be kinda hard for us to have a good chat mate.” I wipe across one of the tables. “Between me running the bar, and you singing on that stage, the only other time you have free is taken up with carting off one of those poor little huge-titted groupies that follow you all around.”

  A low laugh emanates from behind the bar. “I’m not always picking up groupies,” he mock-gasps, “I do have standards, you know.”

  “Yeah, sure you do mate.”

  I had spent many an aggravating night behind the bar watching Blake flirting with the never-ending supply of young women who’d come to the bar to moisten the seats whilst watching him and the other boys do their thing. I’d had to ground my teeth on more than one occasion as I watched his fingertips drag from a girl's knee, up her thigh, and rest under the hem of their skirts, whispering things in their ears that made them blush scarlet.

  “You make me sound like such a slut.” I turn to see him perched on the edge of the bar, legs swinging between the bar stools. A cute pout plays on his mouth. His eyes are alight with amusement.

  “Hey, I’m not judging.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “You do you.” I wink at him.

  Turning around, I pick up the large trash can and cart it out to the back of the bar, tossing the contents into the dumpster. I look around the deserted alleyway, the sounds of New York City still loud late into the evening.

  I never thought I would get used to living in a place that had no chill. Back in Ireland, once it got to one a.m., the whole world seemed to go to sleep. There were times I would lay awake at night, wishing I was somewhere I could be me. I remember the feeling of isolation, the overwhelming sense of sad loneliness like I was the only person awake in a world full of sleeping.

  I look around again at the empty alleyway, inhaling the stale smell of garbage, hearing cars honking, and watching tourists line the street the alley emerges into. I realise amongst the filth and the garbage, that this is truly my home.

  I drag the empty trash can back into the building, carrying it behind the bar to store in the back room.

  “So is that what you think of me?” Blake asks, his voice lower than before, the humour was gone from his face.

  “What?”

  “Do you really think I’m just some shallow band member who sleeps with anything in a short skirt? Is that all you think I am?” His eyes have a glimmer of sadness in them. I hate that it is potentially me who put it there.

  I walk around the bar to stand in front of him, my hand resting on his bicep giving the hard muscle underneath a light squeeze. “Hey,” I prod, “you shouldn’t listen to me, what I think doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters!” he growls out through clenched teeth, looking up at me through thick dark eyelashes.” I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t care what you think of me.”

  He reaches up, his hand clasping over mine where it rests on his arm. He squeezes my hand, his eyes locked on mine intently like he is trying to send me some unspoken message. It's just a message I’m not receiving. What the fuck does this guy want from me? He’s a straight gorgeous lead singer of a band; I’m just some grumpy-ass gay guy who runs a bar in the middle of the city.

  “Niall,” he whispers and swallows deeply. I watch as his Adam's apple moves up and down his throat, unable to tear my gaze away. My eyes move unbidden upwards until they lock on to his slightly parted lips. A small choked sound escapes me as I watch his tongue dart out to lick his full bottom lip.

  I need to do something before making a fool of myself in front of this guy: all he has to do now is look down to see exactly how much of a fool I’m making out of myself. My cock is leaking like a faucet in my briefs; I just need to get home, tug one out, and shower. I go to move backward away from him but his hand grips mine tighter.

  “Where are you going?” His voice is low and dangerous, sending shivers up my spine.

  “I was thinking of getting my stuff so we can close up.” The smile is plastered on my face, forced, so that I don’t do something embarrassing like bite my lip or pant.

  “Why?” I go to move again but he holds onto me. “Why do you
keep trying to get away from me?” His fingers squeeze mine letting me know I’m not going anywhere. I train my eyes down to my feet, wincing at the noticeable bulge in my trousers. “Baby, look at me.”

  My head snaps up at his endearment, my breathing quickens as I see his eyes visibly darken. He drops my hand, but only long enough to snag my shirt and pull me to him. His hand snakes into my hair as he pulls me between his open legs. His mouth dips and his lips crash into mine.

  I can't stop the needy moan that I gasp into his mouth, my mouth opens long enough for him to slide his tongue alongside mine. The sweet flavour of him is a concoction of the smoky whiskey he drinks and a unique taste that might just become my new favourite. My hands reach up to grasp his shirt, pulling him off the bartop and against me. I rut my hard cock against him, discovering he is just as hard as me. Everything inside me clenches tight as I feel how thick he is, and my first thought is how the fuck am I going to get that monster inside me.

  He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you make me?” he pants.

  “What?” I’m not happy with how many times I've had to ask him what he was talking about tonight. I feel adrift and lost like I'm halfway through a quiz without any of the answers.

  “I have to come in here and watch you - watch you talking to other customers, flirting with guys, touching Lisa, all the time wishing it was me you were touching.” His voice is strained like he has to force the words out.

  “But you’re straight,” I mumble like a fucking idiot.

  He grabs my hand and pulls it down between us. He presses my fingertips along the length of his hard-as-a-rock dick. “Does that seem very straight to you?” He leans forward and captures my mouth in another searingly hot kiss.

  Something inside me ignites. I growl and pull his shirt apart, a few of the buttons coming loose, clattering as they land on the floor around us. I pull him to me, trailing open-mouthed kisses over his lips, across his cheek, and down his jaw, enjoying the garbled moans he makes as my tongue draws patterns against his skin. Moving downwards, I bite and suck my way down his neck until I bury my nose into the dark thick hair of his chest. I inhale sharply, smelling the heady mixture of sweat, cologne, and pure man.

  I gawp as I discover his left nipple is pierced with a small metal bar. I pull it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tightly puckered skin, pulling on the bar with my teeth until he gasps. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me aggressively against him harder, urging me to go deeper.

  I look up at him, my lower lip dragging against his chest. “I need to suck your dick,” I moan, “please?”

  Dropping the cool (or hot) act completely he works quickly to unbutton his jeans, a hint of the young horny guy he once was breaching the calm, confident exterior. I smile as he struggles with the button. My hand closes over his.

  “Easy, baby.” I try to reassure him. “We have time.”

  He smiles softly at me; I surge up to meet his mouth. I just can’t seem to get enough of him. I reach down, sliding my fingers along the zipper of his jeans, flipping open the button with ease. He gives me a lazy grin and winks.

  Once more, kissing my way down his body, I crouch in front of him, pulling his jeans with me as I descend. The first thing that pops into my head as his dick springs forth is I was not prepared. What must be ten inches of hot, heavy meat bobs in the air. The fat mushroom head gleams under the lights of the bar, a glistening bead of precum gathering at the tip. I rush forward to collect it with the tip of my tongue. The salty-sweet tang coats my tongue as my body craves more.

  “Oh fuck,” he growls out above me. Staring up at him I grab his cock by the base giving him a firm squeeze before tapping his hard length against my cheek. I rub the head around my lips, letting the precum saturate the skin. “Please,” he grinds out, “I need… I want… god just please.”

  Never breaking eye contact, I lick a flat stripe on the underside of his shaft, the weight of it making me anxious and excited at the same time. I can’t wait to get him inside me. I swirl my tongue over the silky smooth surface around the head of his dick, dipping my tongue into the slit to gather up more precum. God, I’m such a slut for him. There’s no way I’m deepthroating him to the base as I have a desire to live and that monster will rip my throat open. Grabbing his shaft by the base, I take as much of him into my mouth as I can, sliding him into my throat.

  “God baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Blake pants heavily. I reach up and slide my hand along his abdomen, fingertips trailing along the bumpy ridges of his abs, dipping my fingers down the ‘v’ of his Adonis belt, scratching the skin as I go. “I can't believe we haven’t been doing this the whole time.”

  Picking up my pace as I bob up and down on his dick, my hand undoes my zipper. Pulling myself out, I start to quickly jack myself off, matching the rhythm of my sucking on his cock.

  “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum soon, oh fuck I’m gonna…” I suck harder on his dick until I feel the telltale signs of the head engorging and his length stiffening harder still. “Baby, oh fuck!”

  Jet after jet of his release hits the back of my throat and coats my tongue. I hadn’t thought it possible for someone to cum this much. The intensity of his release gets me there in an instant. I suck on him hard as I spray my release on the floor of the bar at his feet.

  Feeling completely wrung out, I slump against him, my cheek resting against his groin. His hands find their way into my hair, stroking me gently. He tugs my face upwards and tips his chin. I move up and he takes my mouth with his. The remnants of his ecstasy on my tongue swirls against his own. He moans lazily into my mouth.

  “So why haven’t we?” I ask against his lips.

  He frowns at me confused. “Why haven’t we what?”

  I laugh. “Why haven’t we been doing this the whole time?”

  His hand comes up to stroke the back of my neck. “I just always assumed that you weren’t ready,” he says cautiously, “you know, after Malachi.”

  My body freezes like I've been caught with a cold gun. Suddenly the sex haze clears and I realise what I’ve done. I’ve sucked another man off in the love of my life's bar. I’ve degraded myself and dishonoured his memory, for what? A blow job with a hot guy in a bar. So what if Blake gives me the feels in my chest, so what if my body feels alive when he’s near? That’s no excuse.

  Feeling my tension, his hand stills against me. “Baby?”

  I tense further. “Oh my god.” I grip his shirt tight before pushing myself away from him. “What the fuck have I done?”

  “Baby?” he repeats, the worry in his voice clear.

  “Please don’t call me that, we should never have done this.” The disgust oozes out of every pore of me. My heart however clenches tight as I see the pain I'm inflicting on Blake etched on his face. I want to pull him back to me. To push the frown lines from his forehead, because he is so beautiful and I don’t want to be the reason they are there.

  But disgust wins.

  “Listen, I think you should go,” I force out. “This was a mistake, we have to forget this ever happened.”

  “Everything ok?” He tries to reach for me but I step back out of his reach.

  “Please, just go,” I whisper.

  He nods sadly, buttoning himself up. He pauses for a moment. “It’s because I said his name, right?” he says suddenly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Please,” I repeat, unable to continue any longer. Knowing I’ll give in if he keeps going.

  “I’ll go.” He steps into my space; lifting my chin with his knuckles he presses a featherlight kiss against my mouth. “Don’t let this place become a memorial Niall, you can live here too.” With that he gathers his things and leaves the bar, leaving me devastated once more in his wake.

  Chapter Four

  “Open the fuck up!” The knocking at my apartment door above the bar intensifies. Lisa, by her tone, is clearly annoyed on the other side. I throw m
y legs off the bed and stumble through the apartment. The six-pack of lager I’d knocked back the night before is strewn across the bedroom floor. I grab my Knicks basketball shorts and slip them on. The last thing I need is Lisa getting an eyeful of my meat and two veg.

  “Hold your horses’ woman, I'll be right there for Jaysus sake.” Kicking my way through the piles of dirty laundry on the bedroom floor, I stumble through the kitchen and pull the apartment door open. “And good morning to you, Sunshine.”

  She gives me a pointed stare before pushing past me into the apartment, snatching the kettle off the worktop and filling it with water from the faucet. “Right, I'm making us some tea, and then me and you are going to have ourselves a little chat, okay?” She moves to the cabinet, pulling out a red box of Barry’s teabags. I love America but they can’t make tea for shit. I get tea bags for an extortionate price at an old international food store on Ninth Avenue.

  I go back to my room, pulling on an old grey hoodie, stopping by the bathroom to quickly brush my teeth as my mouth feels like someone snuck a sponge into it overnight. Splashing some water on my face and running my fingers through my hair, I go back to face the one-woman firing squad.

  Lisa sits at the small bistro-style table in the middle of the kitchen, her arms crossed across her chest, waiting for me to take a seat. She kicks out the chair next to her and nods at it. Rolling my eyes and huffing like a petulant child I plonk down into the seat, picking up the steaming cup of tea she’s placed on the table in front of me. I take my first sip and the milky bitter taste I love blasts my senses, waking me up a bit.

  “So what’s your fucking damage?” Lisa snaps out suddenly.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, putting my cup down on the table and turning to face her.

  “You heard me.” Her eyes widen as if to say yeah, you fucking know.