by Gavin Atlas
The Full Ride
By Gavin Atlas
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2018 Gavin Atlas
ISBN 9781634865197
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
The Full Ride
By Gavin Atlas
He Could Stop Traffic
Pink Cowboy Hat
Revenge as an Art Form
Welcome to Fair Warning
The Full Ride
Fair Trade
Tanner’s Tuck-In Service
Three-Way at the Western
Chapter 1: The Tuscany
Chapter 2: The Vegas Club
Chapter 3: The Venetian
Chapter 4: The Hospital
Chapter 5: The Rabbit’s Foot
Daddies in Damian
And Brawley Threads the Needle
The Laius League
Il Circo dei Fiori
Which Way to Dominance
Engine of Repression
Acknowledgements
Publication History
He Could Stop Traffic
Officer Karl Wilkes tore his eyes off the college boy to check his phone. The incoming call was one he’d been anticipating for weeks. He looked back up. The boy was Latino, and at second glance, damn familiar. His tight tan T-shirt showcased a pumped chest and narrow waist. His shorts revealed tawny, muscular legs with a fine down.
Stop staring and answer the phone.
How did he know the boy? The boy’s walk was sultry and confident. His muscular body reflected a disciplined workout. Despite the conservative haircut and textbooks, the boy seemed out of place. It could have been the sensuality rolling off him, but something made Karl think he belonged on a stripper pole, not on his way to class.
Answer the damn call, Karl.
As he clicked the TALK button, Karl saw the stoplight tattoo on the boy’s neck. Heat curled through him as vague memories formed. Oh, hell. I think I’ve had him. If he was who Karl thought he was, he was Hondureño, unbelievably good sex, and his name began with a T. What was it?
“Uh…this is Wilkes. Lieutenant, I’m about to give that presentation about the profiling program. Do I need to scrub it?”
Lieutenant Corley might have been lousy at returning calls, but he wasn’t a prick. “No, that’s important. Just make sure you have your Plan A ready for Main Street at five this afternoon.”
Karl’s eyes went wide. “Wait, I’ve been asking about this for months. Why—”
“Wilkes, a federal wig’s son vanished last night, here in Houston. We’re almost certain it’s El Sistema.”
“Oh…fucking shit.”
“Exactly. Disaster. On the other hand, the problem you’ve been going on about finally has everyone’s attention.”
Karl had apprised the department that the occasional disappearance of male prostitutes outside of a couple hustler bars was likely a larger operation that didn’t just affect the “deviant” element. The white shirts at Main Street sometimes paid attention when gangs kidnapped women, but gay boys? Never. If any of them besides Corley had given a rat’s ass before today, Karl wouldn’t have known. “But do we have the device? And two detectives?”
“Checking on the first question and one, but not two. Weren’t you going to work on that?”
Karl huffed. “I’ve been scouring the region for agents who fit the requirements, but there’s nothing. Now if I’d been chosen for the Vice Unit, I’d have prioritized—”
“Christ, Wilkes, trust me. I know what this means to you. You’ll be on the unit once you’ve had a couple years under your belt. Everything you got by five tonight, clear?”
“Get back to me about the device, please, Lieutenant,” Wilkes said before his superior hung up. The hallway had cleared. Which room was C219? He heard his cousin’s voice coming from down the hall. “Officer Wilkes from the Houston Police Department was supposed to be—”
“Made it, Tanya.” Karl jogged into the brightly lit classroom. He saw her wince because he’d forgotten to call her Professor Dawes in class again. But he had a recovery plan, and he turned to the students. “Just because she’s my cousin doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have my head if I missed…this.”
There was the boy, and he clearly recognized Karl. The name came to him. Tomás. Tomás Torres, the alleged pizza delivery boy who was really a stripper, who was really a nude housecleaner, who, so it would seem, was really a college student. Karl gave him a quick smile and turned away, blood rushing to his groin as his mind now flooded with memories: Tomás in nothing but a jockstrap taking Karl’s dick in position after position. It hadn’t been much more than a year. Had he gotten that swept up in work? How could he have forgotten how good it felt to be inside that stud? And how much fun they’d had afterward, talking, cuddling, and laughing at stupid movies? Stop it. You have a presentation to give.
He cleared his throat and looked at his cousin. Her face was a mixture of bemusement and mirth, but it was clear she was waiting on him.
“So, uh, most of you are in this class because you’re about done with what West Harris Community College offers in criminal justice, right? After graduation, many of you will be considering the police academy, but for those looking to transfer to Houston Central University, the geographic profiling program is something the city is very proud of. As a graduate—”
“When will the police realize profiling is wrong?” The voice from the back of the room was loud, accusatory. Karl looked up. White male. Approximately twenty years of age. About five eleven. Thin frame. Ratty tie-dye T-shirt. Brown curly hair.
“Uh, geographic profiling is—”
“You of all people should know what it does to minorities! But you’re blinded by the power of your badge.”
Karl arched an eyebrow. “First, young man. Why me of all people?” He knew he looked black, and nine days out of ten if someone asked him how he felt about something as a “black man” he didn’t blink. But he was also part German, Mexican, and Navajo. If some clueless kid was going to lecture him on the prejudice of appearance, he’d better—
“Alan, would you shut up and do the goddamn reading for once?” The new voice was Tomás. “You’re talking about offender profiling. The HCU program is geographic profiling.”
“Here we go,” Karl’s cousin murmured to him. “I’ve been expecting this blow-up all semester. That ignorant loudmouth thinks he’s the god of social justice.”
Karl and his cousin listened as Tomás gave a textbook definition of geographic profiling. “Is that one a good student?” he whispered.
“Intelligen
t. Works hard. You should take him.”
He knew what she meant, but a ripple went through Karl’s groin anyway. There was no way Tanya could know her words had sparked images of Tomás naked and leaning against the lectern while Karl ground into his gorgeous ass.
“Okay,” said Karl, “since this fellow has done an excellent job explaining why I’m here, I’ll describe how this helps us fight human trafficking here in Houston.” He looked at Tanya. Her expression was tight-lipped. They’d lost her older sister’s daughter several years ago, possibly to El Sistema. It was the reason this was their life.
He began explaining how analyzing multiple locations of disappearances could eliminate suspects by reason of opportunity. As Alan began yelling about governmental spying, Tomás said, “It’s called Google Earth.” Tomás is damn smart. He would make an excellent cop, Karl thought. Then the idea hit him. He would be perfect for this operation.
Or he would be after three years’ experience, but this judge’s son needed someone by five o’clock. Shit. These were extreme circumstances, but how likely was it the department would accept assistance from someone with zero training?
The boy made a beeline for the door the second Tanya dismissed class. Karl barely waved goodbye to his cousin so he could catch up.
“Tomás! Wait!”
Tomás shot Karl a withering look but didn’t slow his pace. “Do I know you?”
Karl had reached Tomás so now he could speak in a low voice. “Oh, yeah, you know me. I would have thought you’d have many fond memories.”
“You told me you were a manager at Arby’s.”
Karl shrugged. “Okay, you caught me. But you told me you were a delivery boy for Pizza Rico.”
“I am.”
“And a stripper and the star employee of Just Jocks Cleaning Service.”
“I can’t afford rent plus tuition with one job.”
“You didn’t say you were a college student.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Well, my friend, you sure are full of surpr—Hey, stop! Why are you so angry?”
Tomás halted at the bus shelter next to the building’s side exit. He frowned with exasperation. “I’ve figured you tops out. I’m ‘Triple Tap Tomás.’ A guy fucks my ass once, comes back for seconds because it was fun, then fucks me a third time to prove he can have it anytime he wants. I’m an easy bottom. That’s what I get. But I guess I’m not the only one who didn’t know the code. See, a top never returns for a fourth time until months later because that’s his way of telling me I’m just for fucking.”
Oh. Karl owed Tomás an apology. “And I did come over a fourth and, uh, fifth time pretty quick, so you thought it meant more. I can explain. First, I’m sorry I hurt you, but—”
Tomás looked away. “‘I’m sorry’ is good enough, dude. If I understand the rules, I should say no after giving it up the second time, right? But I’m too horny, too dumb, or too nice to play games for the sake of figuring out who’s interested in me. Not just my ass.”
Karl discerned some “protesting too much” beneath legitimate disappointment. Tomás wanted to be fucked, but perhaps he’d felt the same connection Karl had felt but hadn’t let it show. “Tomás, I really was interested, but…when you told me online what you did, I didn’t think you’d meet me if I told you I’m a cop.” Tomás looked down and chewed his lip. “Stripping isn’t the cleanest gig, but once I learned it was nude housekeeping, too, it…wouldn’t work. The white shirts would smell prostitution, even if I know different.”
Tomás shrugged. “Yeah, your police world sucks. I wasn’t thinking of background checks when I decided on criminal justice. My jobs are worse than no job. If your work requires you to be naked and you want a career change, the only jobs you can get require you to be naked. Even so, I didn’t think a decent guy would be ashamed to be with me.”
Karl raised his hands to object. “It’s seriously my job. Not about shame.” He put his hands on Tomás’s shoulders. “If you’re interested, I want to talk more about us, but first, if you’re looking to get into law enforcement, there’s an outside chance the department might need you, like, immediately. We should talk someplace quiet.”
* * * *
“This doesn’t look like a coffee shop,” Karl said as he pulled into the parking lot of a small, weathered apartment complex. He had a vague recollection there’d been serious incidents at this location.
“You said you wanted to talk someplace private,” Tomás said. “My new apartment is here.”
I said “quiet,” not “private.” “Okay, but I don’t have much time.” Karl almost added, “And I need to spend it talking, not stuffing you full of dick,” but watching Tomás rub the tattoo on his neck stopped his tongue.
Karl’s heart rate quickened as he watched Tomás’s ass while the boy walked up one flight of stairs and unlocked a dented door. The tidy studio apartment smelled clean. “Do you work on your own apartment in a jockstrap?”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Anywhere to sit?”
“Just the mattress.”
Of course. “I’ll stand. Buddy, you mentioned the background-check obstacle. What if there was a way around that?”
“How?” Tomás asked.
“I won’t lie. The help needed is not something small and would never be asked for under other circumstances.”
Tomás handed Karl a glass of ice water. “What do you mean?”
“Something big triggered a need to hit a trafficking ring. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
Tomás shuddered. “El Sistema? Those guys give me the creeps.”
That wasn’t the response Karl had expected. “You actually know members of a trafficking ring?”
“Know of one or two, but not actually know them. There’s a guy who comes into KJ’s. He has the tattoo.”
What tattoo? The vice cops told him nothing. “KJ’s? The bar where you strip?”
“Where I dance, you mean.”
“Can you describe the tattoo?”
“A black capital letter E with a green and brown viper curled around it. Like it’s a letter S. It’s on his chest, but high enough you can see it when his shirt’s open.”
“Do you know his name? Where he can be found?”
“Not his real name. The guys call him Tiburón, which means shark. I think he used to wear a shark-tooth necklace.”
“Jeez, Tomás, you seriously are full of surprises.” Karl texted Corley’s office. If they already had this information, he’d be pissed.
“I was ninety-nine-percent sure when you said ‘talk someplace private,’ you didn’t mean talk.”
Karl looked up, his dick stiffening again. “Oh, you have no idea. But the city needs help with El Sistema now. The fact you already know someone makes this…tougher.”
“What? Why tougher?”
“I wanted to ask for your help, but the more I think the department will go for it, the worse I feel. Even your…awful stoplight tattoo would help.”
“How?”
“Police can’t have visible tattoos, so no one would suspect you’re undercover. I was thinking you’d wear a wire and gather info, but you already have a connection. That makes this a rare opportunity, and I’d bet they’d want to, uh…”
“Use me as bait?”
“It’s too risky. You’re not trained.”
“So if it’s too risky, you must be here for something else.”
“Don’t get me revved up.” Karl received a text back. Yes, they’d heard rumors about a snake tattoo but had not confirmed them. Karl should call them with a description of Tiburón.
“You’re here for my ass.”
Karl swallowed. Yep. Bottom boys and their vanity. Might as well appeal to it. “Okay, it is about your ass.”
“Aha.”
“But it’s about the city needing that ass to get itself inside El Sistema.” As Karl pieced together that the city had more information than they’d given him, he wonde
red if the reason they’d considered his plan was his personal ability to find someone like Tomás. Someone expendable. Karl shook his head. “I have to come up with another idea in the next three hours. I need you to describe Tiburón. Then I should split.”
“So you’re going to take off without fucking me because you don’t feel like admitting you want to own my hole, fuck it like a madman, then puff up your chest and walk out, never even thinking about me. Then maybe someday you’ll need my ass again and—hey!”
In one motion, Karl leapt on the mattress and roughly shoved Tomás’s legs skyward. With his right hand, he gripped the crotch of Tomás’s cotton shorts and pulled. Without a second’s resistance, they ripped off, and there was Tomás’s smooth, perfect hole. The shock of the assault had Tomás scrambling away for a moment, but now he remained still, his breathing hard, his dick erect, and his eyes wild with need.
Karl growled, fingered Tomás’ hole, and whispered in his ear. “Why did you get that stoplight tattoo?”
“What? A friend told me to get it. That it would be good for me. I like it.”
“A friend? Stud pup, a light that’s always green stops no one. They just keep coming. Everyone gets that ass, and everyone knows it. Is that what your friend wanted to tell the world? Who is he?”
“He doesn’t matter.”
“Does everyone get this ass?”
“No. But I’ve never stopped you. You’ve fucked me every time I’ve seen you.”
Lust shot through Karl, and he rolled on top of Tomás. “We’re keeping the streak going.”
Tomás always had expensive micro-thin condoms with him. The delay while Tomás struggled with the wrapper made Karl tense with impatience. He lubed Tomás with feral urgency. But less than thirty seconds after he’d slipped on the condom, he was in heaven, sinking into Tomás’s warm, velvety smooth hole. Tomás whimpered and gasped, which made Karl smile. Tomás might not have been a prostitute, but the green light said it all. Just about everyone did get his ass, but Tomás still couldn’t help but moan with Karl’s every stroke. The fact that someone who received so much fucking squirmed and struggled under Karl’s dick, and that his hole felt so perfect and tight, filled Karl with pride and hunger. He began to slam in and out of Tomás’s mounds, rolling the younger man’s thighs farther back so he could watch his own cock conquering that magnificent bubble ass, stabbing again and again. The sensation of warm pleasure surrounding his dick rose to his gut and then to his temples. Tomás’s beautiful mouth, contorted with passion, his muscular body, and his warm, welcoming hole, soon had Karl light-headed with frenzy. He had no idea how long he’d been mercilessly pumping into Tomás, but when the younger man cried out “Eres bien verga” and bit down on a pillow to muffle his moans, Karl went out of his mind with ecstasy. The surge of his orgasm ripped through him, and he came deep inside Tomás with a series of growls. At the same time, Tomás’s head began to thrash back and forth, his teeth still gripping the pillow. He convulsed as he shot into his own hand.