by Riley Parks
Evan didn’t want to keep trolling parks to chase his next orgasm; he wanted to have someone he could fuck on the regular, maybe get to know a little bit…normal shit. He knew that he was probably being unrealistic. If the brunet was getting with guys in the park, there was a good chance his situation wouldn’t allow him to fuck around in a spot that wasn’t anonymous, and there was no way in hell Evan would ever bring him back to his place. With three roommates, he’d be begging to get caught, and as much as he could hold his own, if he could avoid a fag bashing and a possible bullet to the head, he was going to go ahead and do that.
Fag. That wasn’t the way he thought of himself.
He wasn’t attracted to women at all. He’d fucked a few, but that was mostly to have a place to sleep for the night. For as long as he could remember he liked guys. He liked the strength of their bodies, the angles of their jaws, the tightness of their asses, the hardness of their cocks. That probably made him gay, but he wasn’t about to go march in some fucking Pride Parade wearing booty shorts, waving a rainbow flag, and sucking off a twink in a pink tutu.
Sometimes he thought the guys who were so out there with their sexuality were actually tougher than the ones stuck in the closet. To be so loud, proud, and not give a shit what anybody said about it. Maybe he would’ve been like that if he hadn’t lived the life he had…if survival hadn’t always eclipsed emotions. He didn’t give much of a shit. It wasn’t like he desired any sort of support or acceptance; he’d never had it in any other facet of his life anyway. When it came down to it, what he wanted was an ass to stick his dick in, preferably the badass hottie’s from the park, a bed to sleep in, and powder to snort.
He finished getting ready and met the rest of the guys out on the porch.
“How’s it feel to be out of bed before noon, cracks?” Jamal teased, slapping Evan on the back companionably.
The rest of the guys delivered their own jokes and Evan rolled his eyes with a slight grin pulling up his lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah laugh it up, c’mon.” He had forgotten that there could be good parts about living with people. The last couple years he’d spent in his family’s house had been anything but pleasurable with the near constant fighting and guilt trips. Things with the Klown Killerz were much easier. The boys didn’t give a shit where he went or what he was doing as long as he brought in some money. Kane was the exception, but he’d gotten the hint after their last discussion and backed off a bit, for which Evan was thankful. He didn’t want to get into it with his brother, especially if it meant putting his room at risk.
Evan was surprised that the park was relatively crowded. He couldn’t believe so many people got up at the ungodly hour by choice. They walked past a bunch of families enjoying snacks on picnic blankets and flying kites. He searched his memories and tried to remember if his deadbeat parents had ever taken them for a Saturday play in the park, but wasn’t surprised when the he realized they hadn’t. Fuck, they were losers. Either way, he was playing in the park now, and he’d be having an even better time in a park later, so fuck them.
“They’re always late,” Micah groused, dribbling the ball on the black asphalt of the court before shooting it directly into the chain-link basket.
Evan scoffed at the graffiti on the backboard. Amateur shit. He was going to have a hard time focusing on his shots with that ugly scrawling. Well, that was the excuse he was going to use when he no doubt sucked ass. It wasn’t that he wasn’t athletic, he was, but wasn’t into organized sports. He’d played on a baseball team when he was nine for one season. It had been a good year financially because his parents had been cooking meth in their basement. Once they blew the place up, the money stopped rolling in and there was no more baseball. That’s when he got into street art. He started stealing spray paint from Ace Hardware and honed his craft. He loved seeing his vision come to life all over the South Side.
Thirteen years later and it still gave him the same rush.
“Off our court, motherfuckers,” a voice called from behind them. Evan was too wrapped up in shooting an air ball to turn around, thinking whatever pest said it was about to get his. He did, however, wonder what kind of stupid prick would approach five guys who carried themselves like they did.
“Aw hell no. We ain’t going to fuck off for some bitch-ass Demonz,” Luis scoffed, prompting Evan to bristle. Dem Demonz. The same gang who killed Chance. He hadn’t thought the morning was going to start with a fight, but suddenly getting up so early may have been worth it. He whipped around, shocked to see “none of your fucking business” looking at him with his jaw dropped open. His skin was paler than it seemed at night, but that may have been because he was looking at Evan like he was a ghost.
When he really thought about all the shit that had happened to him in his life, he realized he wasn’t a lucky guy. He figured this was yet another example of his misfortunes.
“Don’t want to have to make you,” a blond guy said, cracking the knuckles on his tattooed hands.
“Didn’t think you motherfuckers liked to fight. More into that pussy drive-by shit,” Micah snarled, clearly seconds away from ripping somebody’s head off their shoulders.
“You into that pussy shit now, Jackson? Going soft?” Kane asked with a smirk. “Ain’t the hardest anymore?”
“None of your fucking business.” Jackson laughed sardonically. “Still hard as fuck. Want me to prove it to your faggot ass?” He raised his eyebrows in challenge, glaring from Kane to Evan, blue eyes wild with anger.
Evan crinkled his nose at the slur. Now he knew for real what Blue Eyes situation was and why he kept shit on the low. Jackson. His name was Jackson and he was a Demon.
“You can prove it to me,” Evan replied, positioning himself slightly in front of Kane. Though he said it, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to defend his brother, flirt, or get some fucking contact with Jackson. Whatever had possessed him didn’t impress the brunet if the fist pounding into his cheek was any indication.
Without pause he lunged at Jackson, grabbing him around the waist and tackling him to the ground. The rest of the guys were scrapping while he and Jackson rolled around the hot asphalt fighting for dominance. Evan realized he’d opened his mouth because he had wanted to touch him in any way possible. He gazed up at the man panting above him and thought that he looked more beautiful in the light of day. As soon as he felt his lips turning up in a grin, the hot-ass brunet punched it off his face.
“Fucking bitch,” Jackson growled. “Klown Killerz? Pussy-ass motherfucker.”
Evan had gotten beatings like this enough times to recognize it. Jackson was angry at himself more than Evan. So though he attempted to appear like he was fighting back, he let the other man have at it.
“Pigs,” Jamal called out, prompting everyone to pull apart immediately. Evan watched as they scattered in all different directions, running as quickly as they could from the cops.
Grabbing Jackson’s wrist tightly, he ventured to ask, “See you tonight?”
The hot-ass Demon was taken aback by the question that sounded a lot more like a statement; Evan could see it all over Jackson’s face. There was no way Evan was going to give up the best fuck of his life for some gang rivalry. Maybe it was because he was new to the lifestyle, but it didn’t seem like a good enough deterrent—at least not good enough not to get balls deep in that ass again.
“Fuck you,” Jackson scoffed, spitting on his face. “Fucking trash.”
He shook Evan off and gave him one last disgusted scowl before sprinting away.
Adrenaline and lust coursed through Evan’s veins as they ran in opposite directions, wondering what the fuck they’d gotten themselves into.
12
There was no way Jackson should make the meet at Humboldt. He knew that. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he fucked guys, he was now fucking one who repped the KKz. Granted, he didn’t know Evan was affiliated before they’d banged, but Jackson wondered if it would have made a difference if he had. Evan turned him on like
nobody ever had before. During the brief times Jack had been around him, he’d been putty in the redhead’s hands. He still couldn’t believe that he’d sucked that huge cock out in the open. He was in disbelief that he wanted to do it again, even knowing what he did now.
He wasn’t sure what the fuck was wrong with him. He didn’t get dick-whipped. He fucked them once and threw them away. But Evan had felt different from the start. Jackson wanted to believe it was his body and the way he used it, but Jacks feared it was more than that. He liked his attitude and the way he carried himself, the way his eyes shined even in the dark and how Jack realized in the light of the day that they were toffee-tinged brown. He found himself drawn to Evan’s smile. Though Jackson had spent only a short time with him, he could already tell that the redhead’s grins weren’t easy to come by.
Jackson could relate. He didn’t see much of a point faking shit. He smiled when he fucking felt like it and lately, that hadn’t been often. Maybe that would change. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but between Tammy, Aiden, and the challenge of getting product, Jackson hadn’t had many reasons. He wished he could convince himself that he wasn’t thinking that chilling with a Klown Killer and smiling may become synonymous. He felt like a cartoon where an anvil was dropped onto some fucker’s head and all of a sudden he was loopy, seeing stars and hearts.
It wasn’t that Jack thought any of this shit was a good idea. In fact, he knew it wasn’t. It was more that he wasn’t sure he gave a fuck, which was by far the most dangerous aspect of it all. As soon as the crew caught a guy slipping, they were on him. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy, and fucking the enemy was messier than anything else he was able to imagine.
Still, he’d wasted too much time dealing with Tamara. He wanted to actually feel something for someone, at least lust, and maybe more. Wanting Evan set Jackson’s body on fire and he didn’t fear the burn even though he knew he should have.
The redhead had to be new to the crew. If he’d been with them for a while, Jackson would’ve noticed him. Evan stood out in all the best ways. Maybe the street wasn’t ingrained in him like it was in Jackson. After all, he still wanted to see him after he found out which gang he banged with.
Jackson wished he’d punched Evan harder; maybe that would’ve deterred him. It would’ve been easier if he had been turned off, walked away. Anything.
Jackson knew he had two legs of his own and could have used them to walk the hell away from the whole situation. Instead, he found himself walking toward it, walking toward him.
“Hoped you’d come,” Evan said with one of those coveted smiles stretching across his busted lip. Amid the darkness that was ensconcing the park, it glowed. It was challenging for Jackson to shift his perception. He’d made himself believe that Evan had lived a life of privilege and he still saw him that way, though it was easy to predict that he hadn’t. Rich kids didn’t end up in street gangs. Still, when Jack looked at him, he couldn’t help but think he was too beautiful to be wrapped up in the lifestyle, too good. Jack doubted Evan could even fight. After all, he hadn’t thrown a punch after Jackson had clocked him on the court. Having the body for it didn’t make a guy a solid fighter. Evan was contradiction: a beast in the sheets and seemingly meek on the streets.
“Hoped you wouldn’t,” Jackson replied honestly. He stood a few feet away from where Evan was sitting on the bench, wearing a maroon t-shirt that Jack wanted to rip off for various reasons.
Evan nodded knowingly. “Guess you’re disappointed then?” he asked, rising to his feet and starting to make his way toward Jack.
Jackson considered pulling his gun on the motherfucker, unsure what his intentions were. Though he didn’t trust people to begin with, he certainly wasn’t going to have any certitude in a fucking Klown Killer, regardless of how hot he was.
Goddamn, he was really hot, though. Instead of reaching for his Glock, Jack pushed a stray strand of hair off his forehead and licked his lips, able to smell the faint scent of weed as Evan drew closer. So close. Evan was going to kiss him. Jack wanted to be kissed. He didn’t crave kisses, but he was hungry for this one. As soon as he parted his lips and closed his eyes, he felt a clenched fist connect with his mouth.
“The fuck was that for?” he snapped, holding his cheek and turning his head so he could spit blood over his shoulder.
Before Evan could answer, Jackson returned the blow, earning another swing and a sardonic laugh from the redhead, whose lip had split open again, causing blood to stream down his chin. The asshole could fight. Jackson regretted doubting it as he readjusted his jaw.
“Now we’re even for earlier.” Evan grinned, lifting his shirt to wipe his face. Jackson couldn’t help but admire the toned abdominal muscles and the way they flexed as Evan panted for breath. “Like what you see?” he asked with a smirk, openly aware of Jackson’s gaze drinking him in.
Jackson closed the space between them and tugged Evan’s shirt over his head, unable to stand seeing him in that color, or a shirt at all for that matter.
“We doing this?” Evan asked as Jack traced his fingertips over the cuts of Evan’s six-pack. He smelled like soap, cigarettes, and peppermint, a combination that was driving Jack crazy. A loaded question, though Jackson could choose to take it at the surface if he wanted to. “Jackson?”
Heaven to hear his name coming from those lips. “Don’t know what ‘this’ is,” he muttered in reply, his voice reflecting the tentativeness he was feeling. Whatever “this” was, he knew they shouldn’t be doing it. He wanted to believe that he could take one more taste, but it seemed unlikely that he wouldn’t be back for more, no matter how bad of an idea it was. He was taken by surprise when Evan dipped his head and slotted their mouths together, hard.
The kiss was as painful as it was passionate, with bruised lips moving together as their tongues swirled wildly through the metallic taste. Fingers tangled in hair as bodies pressed close, desperate from the days spent aching for each other. It was impossible to ignore how consumed they had been since their first meeting, and, it seemed, neither was quite sure exactly what it meant. All Jackson was positive about was that they needed to fuck, and they needed to do it as soon as humanly possible.
They kissed their way behind the rock, where they proceeded to strip the rest of their clothes off as expeditiously as they could. As soon as Jackson slid the lube packet into Evan’s hand, he immediately pushed Jackson’s bare chest against the boulder and began to prep him roughly, making Jackson nearly crawl out of his skin, evidenced by moans coming from his mouth. With lips fastened to the back of his neck, Evan probed and scissored until Jackson demanded, “Get the fuck in me.”
Reaching down to grab a condom out of the pocket of his discarded pants, Jackson turned to see Evan tear the gold foil with his teeth and roll the magnum over his dick. The volume of their collective sigh increased with each inch Evan pushed in. As soon as he was filling Jackson to the hilt, he started to roll his hips, slow at first, then to a backbreaking pace that had both men groaning at the sensation. Jackson reached around so he could dig his fingernails into the flesh of Evan’s clenched ass cheek, prompting him to give him more.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about this ass, this perfect fucking ass,” Evan crooned as he slammed into Jackson, hunching over his back and driving into his prostate.
“Yeah?” Jackson asked, his voice broken by a moan.
“Yeah,” Evan confirmed, grabbing on to the bones of Jackson’s hips tighter and angling up. The shift had Jack shaking and groaning. He felt Evan trying to fuck him into submission; that he was intent on giving Jack the banging of his life to ensure he extracted a promise that they’d see each other again. “So fucking hot, Jackson.”
The sound of his name rolling from Evan’s lips was overwhelming. He’d never told a guy he’d hooked up with his name. It felt as intimate as getting bent over a rock in the middle of a fucking park could. Though all his thoughts were being fucked out of his mind, he knew that he wanted to hear it
again. “Say it again.”
“So hot, Jackson,” Evan croaked. When Jackson’s hand dropped to his cock and he began to tug, Evan knocked it away. “Going to fuck it out of you.”
“Never,” Jackson panted, trying to grasp onto the surface of the rock to steady himself, without much success. He gasped when he felt Evan’s arms wrap protectively around his chest, giving him the support he needed. “Ain’t going to work.”
“I’ll get you there,” Evan assured, fastening his lips to Jackson’s earlobe and sucking hard. “Want it?”
“Yeah.” His voice was wavering from the force with which he was being fucked, body jarring forward only to be pulled back with each jolt.
“Tell me you want it,” Evan grunted.
“I want it,” Jackson moaned, squeezing his eyes shut as his knees grew weak. “Give it to me.”
With that, Evan drilled into Jackson, his dick absolutely assaulting the sensitive spot inside him with each thrust. Undulating cries broke out of Jackson’s throat as he spilled his seed onto the boulder in front of him. Evan wasn’t far behind, emptying into the condom with a whimper of Jackson’s name. They struggled to catch their breath for a few moments, the fervency slipping away as they drew air into their lungs, leaving them paused with questions.
“Am I going to see you again?” Evan asked, bending over to hand Jackson his pants before shimmying into his own.
“We can meet here Tuesday,” Jack replied, sniffing uncomfortably as he pulled on his black sleeveless top. He wished he could have told Evan to fuck off, but Jack didn’t have it in him. Not after the asshole made him come untouched.