by A. E. Via
Michaels tried to pull his arm away but Judge had a vice grip on it and he used it to yank Michaels into him, his sweet breath ghosting across his face. “I said no fighting. I said no attention.” Judge snarled against his ear before pulling Michaels towards the front doors and pushing him hard in his back until he was fully inside.
Judge turned back towards the rowdy crowd and barked an angry, “We’re closed!” before slamming the door shut. When Michaels saw Judge’s father still at the top of the stairs, looking tired and stressed, he could barely form his words to even apologize. He plopped down in one of the chairs feeling like the world’s biggest jackass. Then to make matters worse, Linda quickly hustled over with a warm rag and a bag of ice, carefully placing it on his battered hand.
“Linda. I’m so sorry. I’m fine, really.” He frowned, feeling shittier. “I can do it. Don’t let me take you away from what you were doing. Please.”
“Are you okay, Austin?” She said softly. Her eyes looked full of worry and concern. Michaels thought of his own mother. God, how horrified would it be for her to see him get into some crazy bar fight that could’ve been avoided? Should’ve been avoided.
“Yes. I promise. I’m fine.” Michaels tried to assure her.
“The hell he is!” Judge yelled.
“Son, calm down, he was actually sticking up for -”
“Pop, what are you doing out of bed? Please go back and lie down and rest, I’ll handle this?” Judge lowered his voice talking to his dad, but the daggers he shot with his eyes at Michaels revealed his true manner.
“JJ it’s not what -”
“Dad. I understand. Go back and rest, please.” Judge again cut his father off and didn’t stop watching him until his father finally walked off slowly. He gently grasped Linda’s elbow and helped her up from her chair. “Linda, why don’t you go up and make sure he gets back to sleep okay?”
“Okay, JJ.” She said nervously, looking back at Michaels. “You boys be good. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.” Michaels said, his head still down.
“Austin, thank you for not letting them trash the place.” She added before she went upstairs.
Michaels was glad she tried to hurry up and throw that tidbit in for good measure, but he didn’t think Judge cared one way or the other how everything started, only that Michaels didn’t end it quickly.
He picked up his icepack and rag and headed upstairs deciding to ignore the storm standing and brewing directly over his head. By the time he got upstairs to the guestroom door Judge was right there, pushing in behind him and slamming the door shut. Closing them tight into the semi-dark room.
“Hey, Shhh. Don’t slam the door.” Michaels frowned.
Judge’s huge arm was around his neck and over his throat in the blink of an eye. He dropped his icepack and wrestled with Judge’s strong forearm that was just barely constricting his airway. Judge spun him, pushing him chest first into the wall. Michaels could feel Judge’s heartbeat thundering against his back. He understood the guy was mad but they didn’t have to go to this. “Let me go.” Michaels croaked.
“What’s with you, huh?” Judge’s hot breath panted against his ear. “Cops are supposed to keep the peace.”
“Fuck you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Judge pushed until there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies. Michael’s cheek was pressed against the unyielding wall, his bloody hand splayed out against the dull white surface, trying unsuccessfully to push Judge off of him but he wasn’t budging.
“Leave it to God to send me out here with a fuckin’ loose cannon.”
Michaels’ chest heaved pressed against the wall. His breathing was ragged and erratic. “You gonna run tell him you can’t handle me. From what I’d heard your methods are a little unorthodox too.”
“Difference between me and you sweetheart is that I know when I need to fight.” Judge kept his arm around Michaels’ sweaty chest and reached down with his other hand and gripped the large bulge pressing against those hard jeans. “And I know when I need to fuck.”
“Ahhh, shit. Stop.” Michaels damn near begged.
“No.” Judge rubbed that rigid length harder, keeping it slow, letting it build. He knew the wild man needed it whether he wanted to admit it or not. His own eyes fluttered when he got a good feel of what Michaels was packing in those sexy jeans. A cock just as thick and long as his own. Fuck. He needed to feel it. Shit. This was supposed to be about Michaels… not him. Michaels let loose a seductive moan that had Judge growling, popping open those pants button and yanking the zipper down. He roughly dug inside the tight boxer briefs and freed Michaels’ scorching cock, suppressing his urge to spin the man around and drop to his knees for a better view. Silky smooth skin that burned in his large fist. Why was he so fucking hot… literally?
“Damn you.” Michaels hissed, pushing his hips forward.
Judge pushed more of his weight against Michaels’ strong back, driving his own erection against that firm ass. “Damn you too… now come.” Judge said through clenched teeth. He spit in his palm and rubbed the moisture over Michaels’ dick head and stroked him with purpose. Setting an aggressive, abusive rhythm.
“No.” Michaels half moaned half growled back.
“Do you think I can’t make you, wild one. I promise I can.” Judge licked behind Michaels’ ear, drawing a strangled breath from him. He took his sugarcane out and tossed in the trash. “Cuz if not, I’d love the challenge.”
“Get off me. Is this a joke?” Michaels snarled.
“Does it sound like I’m laughing?” Judge ground himself against Michaels’ ass again, content with taking a little for himself too. “Does it feel like a joke?” His dick was hard and aching behind his own zipper. It was torturous and dangerous. Honestly this shit was getting exciting. He was pissed at first about the fight, but now things were getting interesting. The fiery detective had many layers to him that Judge was going to enjoy unveiling little by little. Judge slowed his stroke. Relished the length and girth Michaels was blessed with. No wonder that punk bastard was begging in that email. Goddamn. It’d been a long damn time since he’d enjoyed a thick cock up - …. No. Fuck no!
Michaels bucked in his arms, jolting Judge out of his thoughts. Squeezing tighter, Judge worked him from base to tip, twisting the cap before going back down and repeating. Michaels shuddered and cursed in his arms, letting his head fall back on Judge’s shoulder. If he turned his head, he could kiss that course cheek, rub his mouth and nose all the way down that alluring smell of testosterone, sweat and bitterness that clung to Michaels, and bite him hard on that stubborn jaw that he liked to jut out in defiance.
He could feel how close Michaels was, like he’d accepted defeat of this round. His hands were still braced against the wall, those swollen, bruised knuckles a testament that he’d put up a good fight, but he was no longer pushing. His taut body had gone lax and his jaw slack, panting in rhythm with Judge’s stroking. Oh god, the expression on his face… frowning in deep concentration to take what he needed.
He’s fuckin’ beautiful. Jesus.
“Judge. Make me come.” Michaels whispered so painfully that it made Judge turn his head to witness the bliss he was getting ready to give this bruised man in his arms. He increased the speed of his fist, the slicking sound obscene in the small dark room. Michaels was leaking for him, aching, pleading for him. For him to do what he promised. Judge buried his nose at the base of Michaels’ throat and squeezed his eyes shut, damn he couldn’t watch. He ground his hips forward at the same time he pulled Michaels back into him. “Fuuuuck.” Did that come from him? He wasn’t even sure, his own head was probably spinning as hard as the man he held.
He hadn’t noticed Michaels had taken his hands off the wall until he felt them pulling at his belt, quickly unbuckling it and pulling at the button on his leathers. He should stop him but something beyond his comprehension held him back from doing so. Michaels may be drunk and
doped up on rage but he was focused on what he wanted and by the way those fingers were working, he wanted Judge’s dick… now. With one hand he worked to free Judge and with his other hand he pulled the back of his jeans and briefs down, revealing a pale, round, furry ass to Judge’s already hazy vision. Oh my god. With his forehead on Michaels shoulder he watched his zipper get pulled down and his cock yanked free. Damn if the warmth from Michaels calloused palm didn’t make him stagger. They both moaned in ecstasy while he fought to regain control, pushing forward again, flushing them back against the wall. Michaels didn’t stroke Judge’s cock for long but what he did to him next made his eyes cross. Michaels arched his back and nestled Judge’s hard pulsing length in the crack of his ass and rocked back and forth, aggressively grinding him extremely close to orgasm while he alternated thrusting his cock into Judge’s palm. Strong arms snaked behind his head, clasping around his neck using him as leverage.
How had he lost the upper hand so quickly? His dick jerked and wept like it had found the happiest place on earth. He was gonna come but he’d be damned if he did it before Michaels. He dropped his arm from around Michaels’ chest and gripped him on his hip, using it to slam that sexy ass back into him while he jerked him fast with the other. He felt Michaels’ dick jump in his fist and knew it was time. Good because he was past time. “Fuckin’ come.” He hissed, snapping his hips forward at the same time he squeezed the head of Michaels’ dick. He went down on that length one more time, squeezed hard, twisted his palm and shot his fist back up, wrenching the first spurt of hot come from it. Yesssss. Michaels grunted with the next spurt and worked his ass hard against Judge’s aching dick. The sounds he made were delicious and wicked. Sounds he’d never heard a man make. Still masculine but erotic as hell. Not ashamed to show Judge that he’d pleased him.
It wasn’t supposed to happen but Judge lost it. He lost his load all over that sweet, taut ass. His orgasm dancing to Michaels’ sexy song he sang for him. Damn it was good, one of the best he’d had and he didn’t even penetrate him. Judge was shaky on his feet. He held Michaels close to his body while they rode out their orgasms, both of them drunk off each other. Dropping his hands down, Michaels slumped back against the wall, dead on his feet, like he could sleep right there. Judge groaned and rotated his neck. He’d done his job. Michaels was calm and completely satisfied… for now.
He couldn’t imagine the marks they’d have on their bodies by morning because Michaels’ was squeezing the hell out of his neck as he writhed shamelessly against Judge’s dick and he’d gripped and pulled on Michaels in every way his damp skin would allow.
He looked down at his come dripping down Michaels’ ass, slicking the fine light-colored hairs to that hot skin. The power that flooded his mind made him dizzy. He thought to get a towel to clean him up but quickly changed his mind. Let him wear his essence all night. With one arm still wrapped around Michaels’ chest, he walked him over to the neatly made full-sized bed and dropped him down, face first on it. He pulled off his boots for him and pushed his legs up on the bed. He was asleep, already. He watched the serenity glaze across his handsome face as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. He’d put that look there. Why did he want to climb into bed next to him? Lay with him… hold him. Judge didn’t do romance. He shook his head and tucked his cock back into his pants. Light snores reached him as he turned out the tiny lamp on the side of the bed.
“Until tomorrow wild one.” He whispered, closing the door behind him.
Chapter Seventeen
Michaels groaned and stretched as his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to his strange surroundings. The window was covered with a sheer white panel and the sunlight that was currently blinding him reminded him that he was in Florida. In Florida with - ” Oh no. Last night’s memories flooded him like a tsunami. He’d been tipsy, but not drunk. He remembered it all, every single mind-blowing-intense-erotic-second of it. Well if he wasn’t sure before the crusty substance on his back was a clear indication. Asshole. Could’ve got a rag.
Michaels stood and cracked his neck and back. He felt wrung dry. What was the deal with Judge? Talk about your mixed signals. Straight men didn’t jerk off other men no mattered how wired up they were so it was obvious he was gay or bi. But who cares. If Judge wanted the job of relieving his stress than he was hired. Fuck it. Judge would be out of his life in a matter of days, a week tops. What’s the harm in mixing a little business with pleasure?
He checked his cell phone and saw it was just after eight. Damnit. What time was Judge getting on the road? They should be halfway to Miami by now. Surely the man wasn’t considerate enough to let him sleep in. Michaels saw his bag had been placed just inside the door. He got out his toiletries and quietly made his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Showering and dressing quickly, he made sure to strip the linen, fold them neatly and place them at the foot of the bed. He also made sure he had everything before making his way downstairs to find Judge. When he got to the landing he heard Linda’s voice. She was crying.
“He has good and bad days, JJ. This is going to be a bad one.” She sniffled again before continuing. “I fear they are going to be a lot more frequent.”
“I could come back here. Help you and pop.” Judge’s deep voice was laden with sadness.
Michaels felt like he was eavesdropping but he didn’t move.
“No JJ. Absolutely not.” Linda said sternly. “That’s not your job.”
“Yes it is.”
“No.” She scolded. “Your job is getting the scum off the streets. That’s what you love. Not bartending in a rowdy run-down bar.” The sigh he heard was sad and tired. “It’s high time we think of closing, honey. You’re father doesn’t like the idea but we don’t have a choice. We need to sell while we can.”
“I’m sorry, Linda.” Judge said softly.
“Oh honey. It’s God’s plan. You’re father ran this place for over fifty years. Successfully. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’ve been a good son, JJ. A beautiful son to me when I couldn’t have my own. I’m thankful every -”
Michaels came around the corner and cleared his throat. He had no right to continue to listen. Judge looked shocked at first but his lip quirked up a little in the corner before he narrowed his eyes at him. “Um, good morning, Linda.”
“Austin. Did you sleep well? How’s your hand.” She shuffled around Judge’s large frame to get to him. She lifted his hand and lightly traced her petite fingertips overtop of the bruises. “Did you put some antibacterial ointment on them?”
Michaels gently extracted his hand, patting hers. “I just showered so I’m sure they’re clean. It’s fine, I promise.”
She smiled sweetly. “Oh okay. I hope Judge Jr. wasn’t too hard on you last night.”
Michaels looked up at Judge over Linda’s head. His eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh yes mam. He was very hard.”
Judge’s jaw clamped down on that sweet stick in his mouth. He swallowed stiffly, his large Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes were dark and fierce, looking like he promised retribution for the double innuendo Michaels threw at him.
Linda turned and swatted Judge on his arm. “JJ. I told you to be nice.” She admonished heading back downstairs. “You boys come on, you can eat before you get on the road.”
Judge stood tall and gestured for Michaels to walk ahead of him. “You didn’t get a good enough view of my ass last night?” He whispered on his way by.
Judge grabbed his arm and pulled him back to him. “No. But I will.”
They ate a hearty breakfast of Pecan French toast, hash brown casserole, fried ham slices, and scrambled eggs. Michaels was so full he wanted to go back to sleep. “Jesus, Linda. I hope I don’t have to chase anyone today. I’m so full. Everything was delicious. Haven’t had a breakfast like that in years. Thank you.” He said wiping his mouth after another gulp of orange juice.
Linda blushed at the compliment. “You’re welcome anytime, sweetie.”
They had a cup of coffee with Linda, talking with her about nothing in particular. She mostly asked Michaels questioned about his life in Atlanta. “You and Judge are so similar.”
“Linda.” Judge groaned.
“What?” She shrugged innocently.
Judge gave her a look and Michaels couldn’t help but laugh. “Linda. Is it okay if I say goodbye to Judge Sr.?”
Linda smiled sadly. “Sure. He should be finished with his breakfast by now. Let me check.”
Michaels put his cup in the sink and stood there staring out the window at Bookem walking around sniffing random things. He heard Judge’s chair scrape against the worn linoleum. He could feel his heat behind but he didn’t turn around. Were things going to be awkward now? He hoped not. He didn’t do awkward.
“You don’t have to say bye to him.” Judge mumbled.
Michaels spun around, his face frowned with confusion. “Why the hell wouldn’t I? I enjoyed meeting him and he and Linda were more than hospitable. You don’t want me to say ‘it was a pleasure meeting you, sir. Take care.’ What the fuck?”
Judge looked chastised. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. Never mind.”
Linda came back in the room. “Okay. You can go on up.”
He cut his eyes at Judge before he left. Taking the stairs to the third level, he tapped lightly on the open door, announcing himself. “Good morning, sir.”
Judge Sr. was still in his pajamas with a long checkered robe cinched tight over top of them. He was sitting in a recliner in front of a regular sized television watching Good Morning America. He looked tired but the smile he gave Michaels stretched across his face and radiated through his eyes. “Hey there, slugger.”