by J. K. Hogan
“If you can be quiet, I’ll suck your brain out through your dick.”
Justice’s knees tried to buckle, and Nic pinned him hard against the wall to keep him upright. He jerked a nod, trying to let Nic know that, yes, he’d be quiet if he had to staple his own lips shut.
Nic removed his hand from Justice’s mouth so that he could lock the door. He eased away, giving Justice room to turn around, then planted a wide-palmed hand on Justice’s chest and pushed him back against the door. “Stay,” he said, and Justice heard the order in his voice.
Nic hooked his fingers into the waistband of Justice’s jeans and briefs, and yanked them down. The edge caught on Justice’s cock, causing it to spring up and slap his belly. As a streak of pre-cum was painted across his abs, Justice had the absent thought that this little assignation was not going to last very long.
He was right. Nic dropped to his knees, gripped Justice’s hips and swallowed his cock whole, all the way to the back of his throat. Justice’s head thunked against the door, but he didn’t care. Nic swallowed around the head of his cock a couple of times, and Justice’s vision swam.
As Nic tightened his lips and slid them up his length, Justice had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out. Or whimpering. Or pleading for more; harder-faster-now, don’t ever fucking stop.
Nic hummed on the downstroke, swallowed some more; took a handful of Justice’s balls and rolled them while rubbing a thumb on his perineum. Justice went wild. He could no more stop the thrusting of his hips than he could the need to breathe.
Nic just took everything he had, tapping him on the hip to encourage him to have at it. So he did. He fucked Nic’s mouth for all he was worth. Nic opened his throat, and let Justice use him, though it was clear that Nic still had all the power. He had Justice by the balls —literally.
When Nic nudged Justice’s hole with the tip of his finger while tugging on his balls and swirling his tongue, Justice gasped and shot down his throat. He shot longer and harder than he ever had, gripping Nic’s hair to keep from flying apart. Nic dutifully licked him clean, and then finally released Justice’s cock to stare up at him with a smirk.
There on his knees, looking up at Justice with clear blue eyes shining with lust and self-satisfaction; lips swollen and glistening; unruly blond hair framing his face like a halo; he looked like a debauched angel —Justice’s very own Eros, existing for his pleasure alone.
Even as his cock gave a half-heart attempt to get back in the game, Justice slid down to the floor with his back against the door. Nic just watched him, almost as if in a trance. Justice surged forward grabbed his chin, swooping down on his lips and licking his way inside.
The kiss went on and on; Justice thought maybe they kissed for days. And then suddenly there was a knock on the door that caused them both to jump and separate like a pair of guilty teenagers. They looked at each other and burst out laughing, again, neither man in a big hurry to leave the room.
“What about you?” Justice asked, eying the significant bulge in Nic’s jeans.
He gave Justice a predatory look, with wide eyes and a feral smile. “I’ll save mine for your ass.”
Justice swallowed. Hard. “Um, I have that dinner with the wedding party, which technically I’m not a part of anymore, but that’s what I’m doing tonight.”
“Good,” Nic said. Justice couldn’t fathom why that was good. “I’ll come see you after. I want to watch while you fuck yourself on my cock.”
Justice closed his eyes and embraced the shivers that rolled through him. No one had ever affected him like this before.
“I want you to think about that,” Nic said. “Think about riding me for hours, riding me until you scream. Think about that while you’re at your stuffy dinner.” He winked at Justice, knowing exactly how his words were affecting him.
“Oh God,” Justice said, because yes, he would be thinking about that all night. In fact, he couldn’t wait to get started.
Chapter Sixteen
Justice took extra care showering and dressing before the dinner; not so much because he cared what Rory’s friends thought, but because he would see Nic later on. So he shaved, slapped on some aftershave, and actually put on a suit.
He wasn’t even sure what this event was for. He guessed it was little a pre-rehearsal-dinner dinner. Whatever. It was free food, he thought as he left the house and started walking to the restaurant.
He saw Rich pass by, driving his fuck-me red Camaro and wearing his designer suit. Justice rolled his eyes. He was in too good a mood to let that asshole bother him. He got to hang out with his best friend, and then get fucked into the mattress later by his hot new man. How much better could it get?
Justice was still in a fog of arousal and anticipation when he arrived at Johnson’s Sugar Shack and strolled towards the private banquet room in the back. If he hadn’t been, he might have noticed the undertones; the general mood of tension that pervaded the room.
It was a strange set up for a dinner party. Instead of everyone seated at a table together, some were walking around, mingling, and others were seated. Justice finally clued into his surroundings when he heard Rory and Rich speaking in hushed but angry tones, off in a corner.
Justice’s stomach squeezed, churning with nerves he didn’t want to feel after such a blissful day. Trying to ignore his best friend and his blackmailer, Justice sat down beside Maia and gave her a nervous smile. The whispered conversation, however, would not be ignored.
“You’re really doing this?” Rich hissed.
“Look, I told you, replacing him just doesn’t feel right. He’s my best friend.” It was obvious that Rory was trying to keep calm in the face of annoyance.
“Are you kidding?” Rich’s voice rose enough to turn a few heads. “I’m your best friend. I’m the one who was around while you were dating Maia. And you’re going to blow me off for that fucking fag?” If that wasn’t bad enough, he pointed straight at Justice when he said it.
The room went completely silent and Justice literally stopped breathing. The bile rose in his throat as he waited for some kind of reaction from the wedding party.
The murderous look that clouded Rory’s face only made Justice feel worse. He could tell his friend was ready to go to bat to defend him, but there was no defense against the truth.
“The fuck did you just say?” Rory yelled. “You can’t just throw that fucking word around. It’s even worse when it’s not true!”
“Oh you think it’s not true?” Rich’s voice climbed an octave. “If you think it’s not true, why don’t you fucking ask him? That’s probably why he didn’t want to be your best man —he’s got a thing for you.”
Justice had frozen solid, but that statement woke him up. “Wait, what? The fuck? Where do you get that from?”
Rich didn’t answer. He was still looking at Rory. Justice forced himself to look at Rory too, though everything in him wanted to curl up and die. Justice saw the moment it sank in that Rich was serious, that it could actually be true. He couldn’t bear it; couldn’t deal with seeing that same stone-cold, blank look he’d seen on his parents’ faces up until the day he left.
Rory turned to him then, his eyes sort of pleading. “Jus? Is it true? You’re gay?”
The instant he hesitated, Rory knew. It was written all over his face without Justice needing to say a word. Rory didn’t need to say anything either. His emotions were written all over his face. Shock, disbelief, anger, a flash of hurt —he always did wear his heart on his sleeve.
And then it came. The holy motherfucker of all panic attacks. Could anyone blame him? He was living his worst fucking nightmare. So Justice closed his eyes and let his crazy come out to play.
His vision narrowed to a pinprick and the cold-sweat, skin crawling, clammy feeling washed over his body. His stomach convulsed and bile tickled the back of his throat, while his heart pounded in his ears with the urge to flee.
“Um…I…” He swallowed convulsively. “I gotta
go…um…puke.”
And that was that. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop the flood, and ran.
He barely made it to the bathroom before he tossed his cookies. That should have helped, but it didn’t, because the steaming pile of shit had just started to be shoveled. He thought about that look on Rory’s face, and the fact that he’d actually have to talk to Rory once he was finished unloading his lifetime supply of stomach acid, and he puked again.
The unloading eventually subsided into painful dry heaves, and Justice huddled on the floor next to the toilet, shaking and miserable. Usually when one throws up, one feels better, but such was not the case with panic attacks. The underlying anxiety was still there, so Justice was left a wrung out, shuddering, sweating mess.
The door creaked open and Justice tensed all over, a moment that was painful for his abused stomach, so he let out a pained moan.
“Jus?” Rory asked. “Are ya dead?”
“Uuuungh,” Justice groaned.
“Think you could maybe come out here so we can talk? We gotta talk it out eventually.”
Justice knew he was right, but he felt like if he moved more than a couple of feet, he would probably start dry-heaving again. It was a fancy restaurant, so there was a little sitting area in the bathroom, even the men’s, so he managed to haul himself up off the ground and stumble to one of the plush chairs without losing anymore of his insides.
Rory joined him, sitting in the adjacent chair. All of the riotous emotions that had flitted across his face were gone, leaving only genuine concern. Justice looked down at his hands in his lap, unable to meet the eyes of the best friend to whom he’d been lying ever since they’d met.
“Rich is a giant douche. I can’t believe he said that, true or not.” He paused until Justice met his eyes, as if he wanted to make clear that Rich’s actions would not be tolerated, no matter Justice’s orientation. Well, that was something at least.
“But I need you to be up front with me. We’ve been friends too long to lie to each other.” The unspoken accusation rang loud in the silence.
Justice pushed his way through another bout of shivers, folding in on himself and clutching his stomach. He was sure he looked pretty miserable when he turned to Rory and nodded. “It’s true. I’m gay.”
Rory went absolutely still but gave nothing away. For once, Justice couldn’t read him. “But I gave up being your best man because he found out about me. He was blackmailing me.”
Cursing a blue streak under his breath, Rory’s expression turned thunderous. “That asshole. If Maia and I weren’t already moving in together, I’d throw his ass out on the street.”
Justice barely heard. He was still stuck on freak out mode because he’d just told his best friend, whom he’d lived with for four years, that he liked cock. He was still worried about getting punched. “And I swear, I don’t have a thing for you either. Okay, maybe I did for like five minutes freshman year, but you’re as straight as a fucking arrow, so I got over that right quick.”
Rory actually managed to look offended, as if being called straight was an insult. He pegged Justice with a level stare. Justice wasn’t sure what it meant, but he wasn’t sure he was out of the punch-you-in-your-lying-throat zone, so he kept on digging that hole.
“I mean, I wasn’t like perving on you. I didn’t say ‘let me get this hot straight guy as a roommate so I can look at his bare ass all the time.’ I just wanted a roommate who was nice and relatively clean so I could get through college without getting bashed. I promise I wasn’t checking you out in the shower or anything creepy like that.”
Justice finally clamped down on the word vomit, and flinched when Rory jerked. “Is that what you really thought I’d think? You think I’m angry because you tricked me into rooming with you so you could lust after my sexy ass?”
Justice hung his head, because it all sounded terribly shallow when laid out like that. But yeah, that’s what he’d thought, among other things. He couldn’t leave things the way they were without explaining why he was so afraid. So through waning muscle convulsions and shaky breaths, he told Rory the story of his coming out, and going back in.
“I’d already lost one family, I didn’t want to lose the one I’d created at school. I was so afraid to risk you turning your back on me.”
Rory pointed a finger at him, and Justice winced as if it had poked him in the chest. “That right there. That’s why I’m angry. The fact that you actually thought it would be a risk. I thought you knew me better than that, Jus.”
Now Rory just looked sad and disappointed, and Justice’s heart broke. He hoped he hadn’t broken their friendship as well. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, because there wasn’t really much else to say.
“I know.” Rory sighed and scrubbed a hand over his two-day scruff. “I get that you were trying to protect yourself. I just need some time to get over the fact that you thought you couldn’t trust me.”
Justice raised his head abruptly and his gaze snapped back to Rory. “You mean we’re still gonna be friends.”
Rory rolled his eyes and Justice’s pulse pounded, because maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t losing his best friend. “Of course we are, idiot. I just need a little time to get over being mad at you.”
Sagging against the chair, Justice breathed a sigh of relief. “And then you have to deal with the whole me being gay thing.”
“Yeah, that is kind of a paradigm-shifting revelation. But we’ll deal with it. It’s what best friends do. Are you okay if I leave you alone now? I’ve got to go kick Rich’s pinstriped ass.”
* * * *
Nic wasn’t sure what had woken him. He looked around his dark cabin, listening, but all he heard was the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the hull. Nothing was out of place in the darkness, but something was amiss all the same. Nic’s ‘spidey sense’ was pinging, and it caused his heart to start tapping a rapid cadence against his ribs.
He pulled on some sweats and padded barefoot through the galley and out to the foredeck. He looked out onto the pier but couldn’t see much, as the security light had burned out two nights ago.
Nic was about to go inside when one of the shadows below the light post moved ever so slightly. Fuck. He grabbed a flashlight that was hanging beside the gangway, and carefully climbed down. Shining the light towards the post, Nic startled when the beam swept over the figure of a man.
It was Justice. He was still wearing the suit that Nic assumed he’d worn to the dinner party, but it was rumpled and bedraggled. His dress shirt was half untucked and while his tie was still knotted, it was loosened and hung limp around his neck. If he didn’t look like hammered shit, Nic would think he’d just hooked up with someone else.
The reality was a lot scarier. This was the worst Nic had ever seen Justice looking. He was so pale, he was almost translucent. His damp brown hair stood up at odd ends, his eyes were wild and glassy with dark shadows around them, and sweat beaded along his brow and temples. Even at a distance, in the dim light, Nic could see him shivering. And he smelled like vomit.
Nic’s heart lurched. Something had happened. Something bad. He was dying to find out right then; the unfamiliar feeling of anxiety crept up on him. But first, he had to take care of his man. He wasn’t sure when or how it had become his job to take care of Justice —he just accepted it as fact.
Nic walked over to Justice, shoved a shoulder under his armpit and snaked an arm around his waist. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”
He just wanted to hold Justice; to wrap him up, keep him safe, and fix whatever was wrong. But he knew Justice would want to clean up first. When they got back to his quarters, Nic steered him to the private en suite washroom. He ran a hand down Justice’s spine and nudged him into the little room.
“Take a nice hot shower, baby. There’s a fresh toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.” Justice nodded numbly, and Nic leaned forward to kiss his temple. “I’ll leave you some sweats just outside the door. When you’re cleaned up, come
on back and we’ll talk. Or not. Whatever you want.”
Justice leaned into him and sighed, heavy and world-weary. “Thanks.”
Nic nodded and backed out of the room before he pushed for something the kid wasn’t ready to give. Instead, he dug some sweats out of the bureau and left them for Justice. Then he attempted to straighten his bed so that it wasn’t the giant heap of linens he’d woken up in.
He pushed the pile of pillows up against the headboard, and leaned his back against it. While listening and waiting for Justice, Nic ran the gamut in his mind of what could have happened tonight. He kept coming up with the same conclusion, but he’d need Justice to fill in the how and the why of it.
In the dark, Nic heard the shower cut off, and a few minutes later the sink started running. He forced himself to remain calm as he heard the door open and shut when Justice grabbed the clothes.
After a couple of minutes, Justice came out, wearing nothing but Nic’s sweatpants that bagged a little on his slender hips. Nic tamped down the shot of lust that raced through his body, and the surge of possessiveness that came from seeing his man wearing his clothes.
Justice crossed his arms over a chest that was slightly concave, like he was crumpling right before Nic’s eyes. Like hell, Nic thought. Somebody had stolen his boy’s light.
Nic patted the bed beside him, urging Justice to come sit. And so he did. He sat beside Nic without touching, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
“Hey,” Nic said.
Shudder. Sigh. “Hey,” Justice answered.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“Rich outed me to Rory.” Justice’s voice was tinny, as if Nic was hearing it through a bad telephone connection. “In front of everyone.”
Nic sighed, feeling sick. He can only imagine what kind of panic attack that caused. “That little shit. Rich, not Rory. Obviously.” He was actually kind of babbling. What did you say to someone who’d just had their life blown apart? “What did Rory say?”