by BA Tortuga
“My Neil.” Paddy groaned, fingers sliding back behind his balls.
“Yours. Oh, there.” Bearing down, Neil opened up to let Paddy in. He needed to be filled. Needed to be taken.
“Yes. Yes… I…. Oil?” That finger pressed in, pushed in deep.
“Over….” He waved a hand toward his seat, where there was baby oil as well as sunscreen.
“Okay. Okay.” Paddy stretched, which sent that lean, heated body sliding beneath him, like an eel. Now that wasn’t a lovely thought.
“That’s it.” All of that stretching and moving bumped him around, rubbing him against Paddy madly.
“Want you.” Now. Badly. Hard, in fact.
“Get me ready.” He rose up just enough for Paddy to reach, letting his love have all of him, right there. “Come on, sweet. Hurry.” The oil spilled over Paddy’s fingers, but it didn’t matter once those fingers were in him, slicking him. Neil grunted, pushing back hard, needing more, faster, and deeper. “Please, Paddy.”
“Now? Is now good?” Paddy didn’t wait for his answer, just tugged him back, pressed that sweet prick against his hole.
Now was perfect. He let Paddy feel how he felt, let his lover know exactly how right it was. Paddy’s eyes rolled back, even as Paddy’s hips pressed up. Yes. Yes, just so. Just like that.
Rocking back down, Neil took everything Paddy had to give and then some. He pressed his hands to Paddy’s chest, feeling his love’s heartbeat under his fingers. Love. It filled him up—Paddy’s need and pleasure and happiness mingled inside him. All he could do was push and rock and feel, loving every scent, every sound, from the oil to their sweat to the little moans Paddy gave him. The sun beat down on them, making them slicker and hotter than ever.
Paddy’s hand wrapped around his cock, tugging him in time with the thrusts inside him. That had him moaning too, his hips smacking down against Paddy’s, his cock hot and ready to go off. Goodness. The heat came so fast. So amazing.
“Love you. You’re so fine. So good, Neil.”
“Love you.” Neil arched back and came for Paddy, his heart racing, his cock jerking in Paddy’s hand. God in heaven, he could just live like this forever.
Paddy brought the long, wet fingers up to his own hungry mouth, tongue sliding out, licking them clean.
“Oh. Oh, sweet. Please.” He needed Paddy to arrive as well, to complete things. Paddy nodded, loving him, loving how he felt, how he tasted. Heat flooded him, Paddy’s cry ringing out. “Love. Love. Yes. That’s it.” He shook, trying to hold himself up and not collapse on Paddy.
“’S okay. I got you.” Paddy eased him down, held tight.
“Mmm.” Neil let himself be held, soaking in the happysatedyes of Paddy and trying to ignore the tiniest niggle of fear that invaded the back of his mind.
Really. What kind of evil could find them here? This was his safety net. Here. Now.
Paddy murmured, wrapped tighter around him, head shaking.
That was right. None. Not right now. Not yet. Not yet, please.
Chapter Eight
“HOW’RE YOU doing, Sunshine?” MJ did love Nassau—everything from the colors to the food to Paulie, the big, dark, grinning tattoo artist.
Paulie was working on Sonny’s shoulder, working hard, that needle buzzing like a motherfucker. It was a damned fine sound. Hell, it made him hard as a rock, made him ache some. Made him a wee bit rumbly, having someone else touch that skin.
“Good. I’m good, Precious.” The break in Sonny’s voice told him everything. Someone was getting off on the buzz.
“You gon’ let me do another of yours, man? I haven’t had you in a while.” Paulie wiped Sonny off a little, looking him up and down.
“No, sir.” Sonny answered for him, that redneck drawl drawing the words out. “He’s got a private deal for his next ink.”
He nodded once to Sonny. “Sorry, man. Not this time.”
Possibly not ever. Sonny had a jealous bone. The man was getting good at scribbles too. MJ had the feeling that Sonny was gonna make beautiful ink.
“Too bad. You have great skin, man.”
He grinned. Yeah. He had a great cock too, but Sonny wasn’t sharing that either.
Sonny made a growly noise, his cave-redneck about to go off like a rocket, and it would be a shame to ruin that pretty tattoo that was taking shape. One that matched the one on the small of his back. Fucking hot.
“Focus on the great skin you have, Paulie, and don’t fuck it up.”
“Not goin’ to, I swear.” Paulie flashed him that white-white grin and went back to work, steady as a rock.
He wandered a little, grabbing a bottle of water from Paulie’s little fridge, looking at the flash art. Thinking. Sonny watched him whenever he was in range. He could feel those dark eyes like the needle was going in wherever they touched. He might just explode when Sonny inked him. Hell, he might just explode from thinking about it.
“Stop it, Precious. I can hear you thinking about it.” Sonny knew him too damned well.
“Thinking? Me? No….”
“Oh, your brain is rattling around in your head.” Somehow, he’d never noticed how cute it was, the way Sonny said “haid.”
He shook his head, drinking deep and waiting. He wanted to get Sonny to the hotel room, maybe needed to.
It seemed like hours before Paulie was done, but finally the man was wiping Sonny down for the last time, letting him go look in the mirror. Of course, it was him Sonny looked at. “What do you think, Precious?”
He thought maybe he’d just cream his jeans, right there. He thought he might have to set a charge just to watch it go off. He thought that was the finest fucking thing ever.
Sonny’s eyes went so dark the iris swallowed up the pupil. “We need to get the stuff and go, Precious.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” He pulled a handful of bills out of his pocket, handed it to Paulie without counting. “You do good work, man.”
“You know what to do for it. Don’t let my work get infected, huh?” Paulie took the money and would have copped a feel, but Sonny grabbed Paulie’s wrist.
“I never do.” MJ grinned, winked. “He’s good with a pistol, Paulie. Don’t test him.”
“Well, now you get to see if he’s good with an ink gun, huh?” Waving them off, Paulie went to clean up his station.
Sonny’d been practicing, and MJ knew how to be sti—
Sonny started walking toward the door, and he spun, watching, derailed. He wanted that.
Hell, he would swear Sonny gave that tight ass an extra little wiggle, just for his benefit. Goddamn.
He followed like Sonny had him on a leash, tugging him right along to their pretty little hotel room. The bright colors and whitewashed walls were lost on him, though, as soon as Sonny sprawled on the big bed and crooked a finger at him. Sexy bastard.
“Fuck.” He pounced, careful not to hurt the fresh ink, fingers tearing at Sonny’s jeans as their lips crashed together.
“Yeah.” It was muffled by the kiss, but Sonny made sure he knew how much he was appreciated by lifting that sweet ass and letting him pull the jeans down.
“You’re wearing my ink.” He’d never seen anything so fucking hot. Never.
Well, maybe Sonny’s cock slapping into his hand while he stared at that dark, spiky ink.
“I am. Told you I would.” Sonny tore at his board shorts, getting him bare.
“Yeah. Yeah. You’ll do me next.” He straddled those muscled thighs and started rubbing.
“I will. I’m gonna mark you so good.” Sonny’s cock jerked in his hand, getting good and wet at the tip.
“Fuck, yes.” He got Sonny’s bottom lip in his teeth and tugged. “Hot son of a bitch.”
Sonny’d infected him; that was the only answer. He was devolving into cave-redneck.
They rocked together, Sonny’s wild grin answering him, those big hands holding his hips so they pressed together hard. He traced the skin, right outside the edge of the new tat, knowing h
ow it would burn and sting.
“Shit! MJ. Oh God.” Bucking, moaning, Sonny went crazy for him.
He nodded, kept touching, kept tugging Sonny’s cock. Beautiful asshole.
“Precious… I…. Damn.” Sonny reached down too, stroking along with him, skin flushed and damp.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine. Come on. Then I’ll lube your ink and we can… uhn. We can do it again.”
“Okay. Christ, MJ!” Sonny came for him like there was no tomorrow. Like he just couldn’t wait anymore.
The hot spunk sprayed over his cock, his wrist, and he nipped Sonny’s jaw hard, shooting right alongside.
“Uhn.” Sonny slumped against him, heart beating so hard that he heard it. Damn.
“Man, didn’t think it would be that hot, watching you. I might explode when you do me.”
“Might? If you don’t I’m gonna be offended.” Long fingers smoothed the sweat over his skin, Sonny humming for him like an out-of-control chainsaw.
“Mmm.” He settled in, listening to the familiar sounds of music and waves and people laughing as the sun set.
“Lazy ass. Don’t breathe hard on the tattoo or I’ll be ready to go again.” Sonny kissed his shoulder, his neck, just slow and easy.
He puckered up, blew a stream of air right across that ink.
“Shit! Jesus, MJ. I….” He could feel Sonny’s cock pressing against him, rising again. Just like that.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine, I hear you.” He blew again, throat fucking tight with it.
Sonny bucked against him, skin hot under his lips. “More. Damn. Damn.”
He shifted, rocking back against Sonny’s cock before blowing again. That just drove Sunshine wild, making Sonny rock and push and get him on his back to straddle him. Then Sonny started humping like crazy.
“Fucking hot.” He pushed up, licked a line right outside the tat.
“So fucking right.” Sonny bit him, teasing bastard, knowing he couldn’t bite back, at least not where he wanted to.
“Fucker.” He grinned, blowing again, knowing how it had to feel. Knowing that his favorite redneck would fucking remember and pay him back.
“Fuckee….” Sonny laughed and groaned at the same time, moving against him faster, driving the heat up again. His hands fit amazingly well against Sonny’s ass, the muscles jumping and rocking as Sonny thrust.
“There, MJ. Right fucking there.” Sonny’s mouth was all over, on his mouth, his neck, his shoulders. Still so fucking oral.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine. Give it up.” He grunted at a good, sharp bite, skin going all tingly.
“I don’t know, Precious. You think I can come again that fast?” That ass pushed back against his hands, giving him something to hold on to.
“I know you can. You’re way younger than I am.” He snorted, winked, and squeezed.
Sonny arched for him, cock like a piece of hot iron, pushing and pushing. He knew when Sonny was about to come, could feel each shiver and ripple against him. MJ moaned, blew another stream of air over that black ink, knowing it would drive Sonny insane. Hips pumping, Sonny shot for him again, and the sound that tore out of Sunshine’s throat had him moaning too. The man was hot as napalm.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine. Just like that.”
“Just… like that.” Panting, Sonny leaned to kiss him, a soft, breathless touch of lips.
He nodded, licked a little. Man, they might have to put off inking him. MJ wasn’t sure he could fucking survive it.
Sonny stroked the spot they’d decided on for his tat, grinning a little. “You next, Precious. I can’t wait much longer.”
He groaned, skin just goose-pimpling up. Yeah. Yeah. “Me next.”
SONNY LEFT MJ sleeping and headed to dig out the pack of smokes he’d hidden under the porch of their little room. A Ziploc baggie and some matches meant he was always ready, no matter what. Just about the time he lit up and blew a stream of smoke through his nose, though, his little phone vibrated in the pocket of his wildly patterned board shorts, making him sigh.
“Hello?”
“Hey, S! How you doin’?” The voice had the lilting tone of the islands, and Sonny recognized Daffy, his local hookup for home brew. What the hell?
“Hey, Daffy. What’s up?” Somehow he had a feeling Daffy wasn’t wanting to set him up a tasting. The man was usually a “you call me when you want something” kind of guy.
“Just thought I’d let you know, someone been askin’ questions ’bout your boy.”
“Someone?” A deep drag sent smoke hard into his lungs, and Sonny could tell he’d been giving in to MJ too much; he was becoming an amateur.
“Yeah. Don’ know who, but Al been askin’ me, saying someone’s askin’ him.”
Well. Last time they’d sat around and tried to figure out who was asking about them, things had exploded. Time to go. “Thanks, Daff. I’ll see you next time I’m in town.”
“You bet, S. See you.”
Sonny hung up and stood there, finished his smoke, then put it out in the little tuna can filled with sand before going back in and stuffing things in bags.
MJ rolled over, eyebrow rising. “We going somewhere?”
“Yep. We need to go to Jamaica.” That would work, right? They hadn’t been there much since that first vacation.
“Okay. What’s in Jamaica?” MJ got moving, clearing each and every possible hint of them from the room, up to and including the towel they’d used to clean his ink.
“Funny bananas. Memories.” He grinned over, batting his eyelashes at MJ, trying not to let the stress show.
“Uh-huh. Try harder.” MJ handed over his piece, slipped another into an ankle harness.
“Someone’s nosing around, Precious. It’s time to go.” That would be enough to put rage in MJ’s eyes, and Sonny knew that always meant trouble.
Those blue eyes went steely and hard, one eyebrow rising right on up. “Nosing around? Who? Where?”
“I just got a rumor, Precious. Hell, it may just be that someone saw you and wanted to know where you got your ink. Better safe than sorry, though.” He paused midpack and went to put a hand on MJ’s cheek. “Right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” MJ leaned a little, worrying his bottom lip. “They were on the boat when it blew. I saw them.”
He knew exactly what MJ was talking about. “I know. I know, Precious. I just don’t like it when people get too friendly. You know me.” Sonny took a kiss, hard and hot. “We’ll go to Jamaica. I’ll do your tattoo.”
“We’ll swim.”
“We will. Not until after you heal up, though, huh?” Someone had told him that when he was doing his research. No swimming for a bit.
“Yeah. No swimming. That makes for shitty ink and weirdass infections.”
“So we’ll have to find something else to do.” They could think of something. They were smart dogs.
“You and I can have marathon Monopoly games.” Oh, hell no. MJ was deadly.
“We could, I guess, but only if you play strip blackjack with me.” He was so much better at that.
He got himself one of those grins, wild and heated, so much better than when MJ went icy. “Truth or dare.”
“Hell, yes. I like that one a lot.” They never got past the first dare, but no one cared.
“Yeah. You ready, Sunshine? There’s a pretty new boat all loaded with our supplies.”
“I am. Let’s hit it.” Sonny grabbed the last of the bags and headed out, needing to beat the itch on the back of his neck.
“I have your back.” That voice was sure as shit, and Sonny damned near felt sorry for anyone that might actually find them. Lord knew, MJ would give them what for. Sonny grinned a little, grabbing his baggie of smokes on the way by.
“Those are bad for you.”
“So you keep telling me.” What was a man supposed to do when he couldn’t get drunk? He had to have one vice. Sonny glanced at MJ. Okay, two.
“What can I say, man. I got a vested interest and shit. Let’s go.”
They headed out, but Sonny wouldn’t feel right until they were in their boat and out on the sea.
Somehow, he and MJ always did better on the open water.
Chapter Nine
ALL HE thought about was Manning.
In the mornings when the nurses came with their wire brushes to slough off his skin. In the afternoons when the physical therapist came. In the evenings when his superiors came—some to offer him ill-meant condolences, others to “catch him up” on his work.
A few not-too-terribly bright ones came to tell him it was over, Manning had won, he was broken, weak, lost, time to throw in the towel and give it up because look at him.
Look at him.
Still, he thought about Manning. Even when he looked at himself in the reflection of the very-exclusive, very-well-funded, very-private hospital window—a hairless, melted wax, dripping, skinless monster—he thought of Manning.
He thought of pain.
He thought of sharing.
“…don’t feel as if you’re up to continuing your work on the current project. Government funding is drying up, and with the current environment being as it is, we believe that it’s best to cease and desist, let the situation… phase itself out. Obviously, some of the subjects have gotten away from you.”
He stared with one eye at the fresh-faced young girl standing in front of him in her perfectly tailored yet incredibly cheap navy blue suit. He couldn’t see from where he was, but if he had to guess, she’d have on nude hose, a pair of medium-heeled blue pumps. Closed toe, of course.
Bitch.
“Gotten away from me?” His stiff fingers curled around the tube of the IV, feeling the strength of the plastic, the pressure of the liquid inside it pushing back against him. As if he didn’t have control over the situation, as if he couldn’t wrest things back from that little surfer-boy fuck and put things right back to rest where they belonged. Fucking little cunt.
“There’s no shame in it, sir. The target is notoriously recalcitrant. Difficult, but he has seemed… less active lately, and his contact has been eliminated.”