“Go for it.” Baz touched the glass screen, slid an image on the panel, and half the car roof peeled away to reveal the increasingly purple sky.
“I can’t smoke in your brand-new car.”
“Why not? I’m going to.” Baz pulled something else out of the glove compartment—a baggie full of small, white, rolled joints. “Unless you have a moral objection to weed.” He waggled his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. “They’re medicinal.”
“I only mind if you don’t intend to share.”
The grin splitting Baz’s lips gave almost as good a buzz as the lit joint he passed to Elijah.
Leaning back, Elijah stared up through the moonroof as the scotch and marijuana unkinked his brain. The rawness and tension seemed to mist out of his body, rising up toward the jet trails above. “This is nice. The only thing that could make it better would be if I still had the Xanax they gave me in the hospital.”
Popping the console between them, Baz withdrew a brown bottle and tossed it into Elijah’s lap.
Elijah stared at it. He remembered well the blissful unplugging the drug gave him, and he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it would make the moment perfect: the scotch, weed and Xanax combined would untether him completely, sending him blissfully into happy land. But he also knew it came at a steep cost.
He gripped the sides of the bottle, running his thumb over the label prescribing the medicine to Sebastian Percival Acker. “If I take this, I’m gonna turn into a pile of mush. I’ll grin like an idiot, dance like a hooker and sing like a canary.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It did to Elijah too…except. “I’ll also offer to blow you. A lot. And if you don’t let me, I’ll wander off and keep trying until someone does.”
He glanced to the side to check how that comment was received but mentally cursed as he remembered the glasses rendered that impossible. All he got was Baz settling into the corner between his seat and the door, rolling the bottle of scotch on his upraised knee. “So Xanax makes you horny.”
Elijah thought about letting the remark stand, then decided, fuck it. It had been fun to ride the fairy tale of Baz Acker actually giving a shit about him, but he knew firsthand fairy tales were a lot more Grimm brothers and much less Walt Disney. Time to lay his cards on the table. “No. More shuts down the part of me keeping me from wandering around like a fucking idiot. Xanax puts my internal babysitter to sleep. I’ll want to have a good time.”
With you. Because I’ve wanted a good time with you for a long, long while.
Baz kept quiet, moving only to retrieve the joint and take a long drag. “It more puts the demons to sleep for me. Though I’m impressed. I don’t think I could cut loose enough to want to fuck just anybody.”
Elijah slugged some scotch before he could bring himself to reply. “Less cutting loose and more…letting out the lonely.” He played numb fingers over the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t sleep with just anybody.”
“But you would sleep with me, because I’m not just anybody? You’re gonna give me a big head, Prince.”
I want to give you all of the head. But the ribald response got swallowed by another wave of guilt. “You saved my life.”
Beside him, Baz went still. “Is that what this is about?”
Elijah frowned, not sure what this was. “Why I want to sleep with you? No. That’s because you’re hot. But the other thing…makes me feel weird. And bad.”
Baz didn’t respond right away, and Elijah kicked himself for fucking up getting laid. He should have refused the Xanax and ridden the scene out. Except he knew he’d have broken at some point. It was too weird.
It was fucking unfair how he had to go and be rational and cautious right now. Why couldn’t he have one good night? One good time? Wasn’t he fucking owed one?
Baz cleared his throat. “You still haven’t said if you want a Xanax, only what will happen if you do.”
Say no. Be safe. The thought drifted into Elijah’s conscience before being drowned by a slosh of Oban. “Oh, I want one.”
Fuck those fucking glasses. “So you were letting me know what I was buying?” He retrieved the pill bottle from Elijah and rolled it around in his hand.
Elijah tracked the movement, all his emotions and fears smashing against the weed and booze in his system. Baz cracked the medicine cap off with one hand and split a pill with the deftness of one who’d done it a lot. After pocketing the bottle, he held up the half-circle.
Elijah stuck out his tongue.
Laughing, Baz put the pill between his teeth and dropped it into Elijah’s mouth.
As Elijah swallowed the Xanax with scotch, Baz whispered kisses along his jaw, trailed down the center of his throat, mimicking the medicine’s descent. Elijah shut his eyes and slid his hands over Baz’s shoulders, into his hair. When Baz pressed the nearly spent joint to his lips, Elijah took a deep hit, holding the smoke inside him as long as he could, wanting to fly as high as possible.
With Baz.
Baz brushed a dry kiss over Elijah’s parted lips, catching the lower mound of flesh with his teeth. “I haven’t shown you the Tesla’s backseat.” He ran fingers down Elijah’s chest, popping one button, another. “I can still drive there, baby.”
Elijah leaned into those exploring fingers, wishing the futuristic Tesla had teleportation capability. Since it didn’t, he only let himself shiver under the blistering heat of Baz’s touch a moment before he said, “Race you there,” and opened the door of the car.
As Elijah stumbled out of the front seat, Baz clutched the bottle of Oban and tried to gauge how big of a fuckup he’d initiated. He hadn’t meant to let it go this far. The idea of hanging out in his car with Elijah had felt so good, so safe, he couldn’t stop himself.
Elijah opened the passenger-side door and glared. “Fuck. You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you. I knew it.” He pushed away from the car.
Baz grabbed him before he escaped his reach. “Slow down, tiger. You’re not going anywhere.”
If Baz hadn’t held him so tightly, he’d have lost Elijah in the squirming. “The fuck I’m not. I can read that expression through those fucking glasses. Take your pity somewhere else.”
With a growl, Baz yanked Elijah onto his lap. He winced at the impact on his bad hip, but he swallowed the yelp of pain and focused on the more important issue. Pulling off his glasses, he held Elijah’s chin tight.
“I don’t pity you. I wouldn’t fucking do that to you.”
The manhandling and rough tone took some of the wind out of Elijah’s sails, but not all. “What are you doing? You’ve been fucking with me ever since we met in Saint Paul. You haul me out of a nightmare, but when I try to thank you, you shove me on a bus to South Dakota with a wad of money like the sight of me revolts you.”
Baz winced. “I didn’t—”
“I was there. You fucking did. And when you saw me years later in the computer lab at Saint Timothy, you all but vomited on your way out the door. You looked away anytime you saw me on campus—right up until you leapt in front of a fucking bullet for me. But then you ignored me until tonight, when you get me drunk and high and promise me sex, don’t follow through, and I catch you wearing that face. So fucking figure it out. You want me or not?”
Jesus Christ. Baz opened his mouth to argue, but Elijah shifted and let in a shaft of setting sunlight directly into his eyes. This time he did cry out, a tight gasp of exquisite pain as he slammed his eyes shut and hunched forward to reclaim the shadow.
Swearing under his breath, Elijah pressed Baz’s glasses clumsily onto his face. “You shouldn’t have taken them off.”
No, he shouldn’t have, not facing the setting sun with a headache from the wedding already killing him. “You said you couldn’t read my face with them on.”
“So that’s what you listen to? You won’t fuck me, but you’ll b
lind yourself? What kind of screwed up are you?”
Baz pushed his glasses into place. “I wasn’t pitying you. I was trying to decide if I’d fucked up by hunting you down. For once I thought I’d try to see the train wreck coming and stop it. I don’t pity you. I worry about you.”
“How would you fuck this up by doing me? Do you have some stupid idea I’d get all gooey over you if you put your dick in my ass? My name’s not Aaron Seavers, thanks.”
“I fuck shit up. I worry about you.”
“The name is Prince, bitch, not princess. I can take care of myself.” He flicked Baz lightly on the nose. “You’re a lot wetter than I thought.”
Baz nipped at Elijah’s fingers as he pulled them away. “This the Xanax kicking in?”
“Yes. I warned you.”
Baz skimmed his hands up Elijah’s sides, lingering on his hipbones. Stared up at that dark hair framing his pale face, angular features. Angry eyes that couldn’t hide his arousal. “Still wanting to fuck me, even though I’m wet?”
“You’re more damp than wet.” Elijah ran his fingers through Baz’s hair. “Plus you’re one of those assholes who looks hot when you’re emo. So, yes.”
“Climb into the moonroof and I’ll blow you.”
To his surprise, Elijah pouted. “But I was going to blow you.”
Baz squeezed his hip. “Climb up there now, hooker, or I won’t put my finger in your ass.”
Elijah skimmed his body over Baz’s on his way to the roof, pausing to suck briefly on Baz’s bottom lip. “Crying shame. I’d be the best you ever had.”
Baz pinched his nipple. “Up. Roof. Now.”
Elijah’s wink tipped Baz’s erection from semi to full-on painful wood. “Yes, sir.”
His foot slammed into Baz’s hip a second time. Biting his tongue, Baz moved it to the console and arranged Elijah’s knees against the seat, putting his groin level with Baz’s mouth.
“Whoa.” Elijah’s torso undulated as Baz undid his dress pants and tugged the waistband down. “Hard to keep my balance. This moonroof is huge. Nothing to hold on to.”
“My hair.” Baz skimmed the trousers to Elijah’s thighs and let the mound of tiny ass fill his hands. Before him, Elijah’s long, red cock swayed in front of his face.
A pinch of Elijah’s ass sent those hands onto either side of Baz’s head. “I’ll end up pulling it.”
“Good.” Baz sucked on the patch of skin above the dark nest of Elijah’s groin, rubbing his chin in the wiry hair. He smiled as Elijah’s abdomen quivered, going concave as his cock teased Baz’s throat. Baz buried his nose in the thatch, drinking in the sweat and smell of dick. It did more to erase the shadows from his brain than a bottle of scotch, a bale of weed and a basket of Xanax ever could.
“Fuck, suck it already.” Elijah didn’t pull Baz’s hair, but he buried his fingers deep. “And where’s the finger in my ass?”
Baz licked Elijah’s belly and slapped his butt. “Bratty.”
“I haven’t gotten laid since…before.”
Empathy washed Baz out. He stroked Elijah’s ass, his thighs. Baz licked the underside of Elijah’s shaft. “Then let me make it good.”
“I don’t want it good, I—” He gasped, tugging Baz’s hair as Baz sucked on his balls and teased one finger at Elijah’s asshole.
As one hand kept up insistent pressure, Baz reached the other into the console for the vial of lube. When he found it, he switched his mouth to the other sac and greased his finger.
Elijah cried out in falsetto when the finger breached his ass, and he thrust his cock into Baz’s face. “Ohgod. Please. Please.”
“I won’t leave you hanging, baby.” Baz sucked on the creases of Elijah’s thighs, moving counterpoint to the finger gently fucking from behind.
“It feels so good.” Elijah ripped at Baz’s hair now, desperate, crazed. “Everything feels so good.”
“Let me make it last.” He whispered the words over Elijah’s skin, pausing to slide his tongue up the dick brushing his cheek. “Let me make it better.”
“People might come—ah.” He panted as Baz added a second finger inside him. “I’m sticking out the roof of your car. It’s pretty obvious what we’re doing.”
Baz sucked on the tip of Elijah’s cock, digging his tongue in the slit before pulling away to speak. “Stick your head out the roof and enjoy your blow job.” Baz reached for the dashboard controls with his free hand. “We need music, though. Who’s your favorite artist?”
“RuPaul, but that’s not good make-out music. Try Hi Fashion. Unghf. Oh my God, your fingers are long.”
Baz hadn’t heard of the band, but Spotify had—except as soon as he keyed them up, Elijah jerked out of euphoria.
“No. Not the 70s shit. Hi Fashion. H-I Fashion, not H-I-G-H Fashion. ‘Amazing’ and ‘Lighthouse’ and ‘I’m Not Madonna’.”
Baz tried again, and sure enough, there were all the songs Elijah had rattled off. He hit random play, and as a bass backbeat thumped through the Tesla, he pushed deep into the sweet ass and took Elijah’s cock into his mouth.
Elijah was right—everything felt so good. His car, sexy and sleek and keeping them safe. The music, which was kind of distilled Scissor Sisters. The sweet abandon of Elijah’s body as Baz made love to it, fucked it, sucked it down. The tug of Elijah’s grip on Baz’s hair. The buzz of drugs and alcohol—it all swirled around them, erasing the pain and darkness, leaving them with nothing but light.
Baz wanted to make it last forever.
“I want you to fuck me.” Elijah thrust deep into Baz’s mouth, whimpering as a third finger speared his ass. “I need you to fuck me.”
Baz couldn’t answer, mouth too full of dick, but he didn’t have to reply as sensation quickly overwhelmed Elijah’s ability to speak, leaving Baz to focus on the feast. Elijah was a perfect handful, perfect mouthful. If they moved to the backseat, Baz could sit in the center, have Elijah straddle him backward or forward—or both—and as the song they listened too suggested, park and ride.
Except the two jabs to his hip and the flash of sun in his eyes had exacted their toll. Sometimes the right kind of bang could make all his metal insides light up, and they did now, a nice complement to the spiderweb cracks of pain across his skull. He needed topical analgesic for his hip, two oxycodone and twenty minutes for it to kick in before he could entertain any action. His flagging erection was testament. Pain could be an aphrodisiac, yes—but not this kind.
So he drove Elijah to a punishing climax, making him howl into the marina parking lot. He swallowed the spray hitting the back of his throat in three thick gulps, teasing deep into Elijah’s ass to milk him as much as possible. Spent, Elijah went limp, and Baz lowered him to his lap, carefully arranging him away from the angry hip.
Elijah collapsed on Baz’s shoulder, breathing rough against his neck as he returned to earth. Baz shut his eyes and cradled him close, aching at the way he fit. The song playing now was sweet, and it wrapped the moment in safety and softness.
I don’t want this to end.
The thought sent an electric thrill of terror through Baz. It had to be a side effect of the drug cocktail—projected yearning from last call, watching a high school friend get married and chase down a life Baz knew he couldn’t have anymore. Yearning to keep Elijah close couldn’t be real, because Baz Acker was the dictionary definition of dissatisfaction and distraction.
Yet he couldn’t shake wanting this moment with Elijah to stay. When Elijah pressed a drugged, open-mouthed kiss on Baz’s neck, Baz shut his eyes and sank into a well of safety he would have sworn ten seconds ago didn’t exist.
This was worse than wandering around agitated and lonely. This was what had led him chasing after Aaron last year and eventually breaking his friend’s heart. He couldn’t hurt Elijah. He couldn’t let anyone hurt Elijah. He needed to text Marius, have him
take Elijah to the hotel, pour him into a bed and apologize on behalf of his asshole best friend. Again.
Elijah lifted his head. Baz touched his smooth cheeks, grazing the barest hint of fuzz on his jaw. He stared into those dark, endless eyes and got lost all over again.
“How about you have a cigarette and fill your flask with Oban while I take a few pills, and we go in and dance?” When Elijah’s mouth flattened into a thin line of complaint, Baz pulled Elijah’s lip into the pout he loved. “Then I’ll bring you back here and fuck you.”
He expected a protest—not naked yearning. “You’ll change your mind.”
Baz stroked the open line of Elijah’s neck. “No.”
“You really want to dance with me? In front of people?”
Baz pressed a reverent kiss on his chin. “Especially in front of people.”
Elijah still seemed wary. Baz vowed if he did nothing else tonight, he would wash that doubt away.
Chapter Three
If drugs could make Elijah feel the way being with Baz Acker did, he’d have died of an overdose years ago.
Baz kept his hand on Elijah at all times, usually on his ass. When people gave them questioning glances, Baz became more proprietary, all but pissing a circle around Elijah.
They had to linger at Baz’s end of the table, where he reassured Damien and Marius he was fine, just occupied, which he punctuated with an open grope of Elijah. For his part, Elijah tried to play giddy trick, which wasn’t hard, but he came up short when Damien started to lecture Baz.
“Do you think that’s appropriate?” A darting glance indicated Elijah.
Setting his teeth in a feral grin, Elijah leaned into Damien. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. Were you jealous?”
A feminine gasp reminded Elijah Damien had a fiancée, but Baz’s bright laughter cut through before panic could set in. “Down, Cujo. He’s being a nice guy.”
“Don’t pity me.” Elijah mellowed into a simple glare. “You want to fuss over somebody, go to Aaron.”
Damien raised his eyebrows at Baz. “Must be like looking in a mirror.”
Lonely Hearts Page 3