Sean held him a solid ten minutes, endless arms wrapped around him as if Jesse had a chance in hell of going somewhere. Then he peeled his damp skin away from Jesse's, disposed of the condom in the nearby trashcan, and moved off the bed.
"You...” Jesse cringed at the weak sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You gonna uncuff me?"
Sean shrugged. “Thought I'd shower first."
Jesse nodded, working to keep his face expressionless. Sean looked at him—looked at all of him—as if he hadn't seen him before. Jesse tried not to feel self-conscious. Not like he wasn't used to being gaped at. Prison showers were great for that kind of thing. He lifted his chin and held Sean's gaze for ten long seconds.
The younger man broke first. He swore, low and barely intelligible, and reached for Jesse's discarded jeans.
"Front left-hand pocket,” Jesse said. He made sure he didn't sound smug. He sure as hell didn't feel smug.
Sean retrieved the key, moved to the bed, and leaned over him. He didn't look at Jesse as he unlocked the cuffs, and seemed to be trying to touch him as little as possible. When Jesse's right hand was free, he reached up and grabbed Sean's wrist. He closed his eyes and tried to read...
Disappointment ... fading ... nearly gone now. Frustration and anger ... present and accounted for.
"Sean. What d'you want me to say? Tell me, and I'll say it."
Sean stared at him, his expression unreadable. But through the skin of his wrist, Jesse sensed more surprise, and uncertainty bordering on fear.
Shit. Jesse let the kid go and waited ‘til both his hands were free. Then he sat up and swung his legs over the bed, trying to keep his instinctive wince of discomfort to himself.
Sean coughed behind him. “There's nothing you can say. It's all just really fucked up."
Jesse nodded, but didn't turn. “I know. And that's my fault. I'd say I'll make it up to you, but—"
"No. I don't want that. You...” He coughed again. It sounded dry and nervous. “Your intentions were good. I'm not crazy about the violence part of it, but..."
Now Jesse did turn. “Sometimes there's no other way. You know Paco. D'you think he'd ever turn himself in? Or even just ... stop?"
Sean shook his head, his black curls falling into his eyes. “No. I just wish it didn't have to be—"
"You. I know, and I'm—"
"No. Not just me,” Sean said. “Both of us. But so long as we're in it, I guess we should stick together.” He looked down at the bedspread. “I mean, you probably think you don't need a partner, and I might be a liability at first, but—"
Jesse was already on his feet and rounding the end of the bed. “You know what you're saying? You have any idea?"
Sean looked at him without answering. Jesse wanted to take him by the throat and choke him. It was one thing to be taken hostage—maybe even to enjoy a little extracurricular downtime with your kidnapper—but signing up for a full-time gig as a fugitive? Assuming they could even get close enough to take Paco out a second time. As it was, Sean was stuck with Jesse for the foreseeable future, unless they could find someplace safe to send him. Preferably Europe. Asia wouldn't be bad, either.
"Listen, kid,” he began, and saw how the younger man's eyes got steely. “Sean,” he amended. “I don't know what you're thinking, but let me make a few things clear. I've got almost no money. Everything I own is in that duffel over there, plus the truck outside—and you weren't so wrong when you called it a piece of shit. It's gonna let me down someday soon, probably when I need it most."
Sean's eyes softened a bit, but he said nothing.
"And then there's Paco. I made a major mistake when I pissed him off and let him live. That crazy bastard will hunt me down, and he'll use whatever he can to do it. There's no percentage in hanging around with me. You need to get away just as fast as we can manage it. Seriously."
Sean inclined his head, as if he were considering Jesse's words. But still he said nothing.
"Look, I ... I snore. And I drink too much. I've got a bad temper, and sometimes? I do the dumbest shit. Ask Manny. He could tell you stories...” He let the words trail off, since all they were doing was putting a smile on Sean's face.
Why would anyone choose to throw in with him, much less the guy whose life he'd ruined? It made no kind of sense. So Jesse did the only thing he knew to do with people who made no sense. He ran his hand over Sean's jaw and down his neck to the center of his chest. Then he closed his eyes and...
Shit. No way. Not possible. He had to be reading it wrong.
He snatched his hand away and turned, intending to move to the other side of the room as quickly as possible and stay there. But Sean apparently had other ideas, because he used one of his big feet to trip Jesse and send him sprawling on the bed once more.
His long, tanned body landed next to Jesse's with a thud and a squeak of old springs. “Okay, what's the deal with you touching me and getting that weird look on your face, dude? Because frankly, it's starting to creep me out."
Chapter Eight
"So you're telling me you're ... what? An empath?” Sean's face was fixed in a funny kind of expression—the bastard child of a smirk and a scowl, maybe. He plainly didn't believe what he was hearing. Jesse couldn't exactly blame him.
"Yeah, I've heard that word used for it.” Jesse wanted another shower and something to eat, but first he had to see this conversation through to its natural conclusion. Whatever that was. He sat on the bed and watched the younger man pace around the room.
"And how long have you known this about yourself, exactly?” Now Sean was sounding just a little too “let's humor the lunatic” for comfort. Not that Jesse could blame him for that, either.
"Since I was a kid. It's a family thing."
"A family thing,” Sean repeated. “Like ... genetic?"
Jesse nodded. “From my grandmother on my dad's side."
"You mean your relatives are all mind-readers, too?"
"It's not mind-reading.” Jesse sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “There's just me and my grandmother and my cousin, Leah. She's a professor at the college in Santa Rosa.” He hesitated, wishing he'd never let himself be lured into this conversation. “Leah has visions."
Sean snorted. “Visions. Of what? Angels? Or does she talk to dead people?"
Okay, now the kid was pushing him. “I don't know. Haven't seen her in years.” Jesse leaned back on his elbows and let his gaze travel over Sean's naked body, trying to distract himself from how close he was to saying something he'd regret. “My family doesn't like me much. Black sheep and all that shit."
"Yeah, there's a shock.” Sean came to a stop in front of him. “You really expect me to believe this shit?"
"You asked and I answered. You can believe me or not—no skin off my ass either way."
Sean looked at him, his eyes sharp. “Prove it."
"What? That it's no skin off my ass? You'll have to take my word on—"
"No, idiot. Prove you're an empath."
"I'm not a circus act. I don't do tricks on command."
Sean cocked one hip, crossed his arms over his bare chest, and glared.
Jesse almost laughed. He'd let Sean have the upper hand too long if the kid thought a pissy look could get to him. But, what the hell? Maybe it was better if Sean had his come-to-Jesus moment now. Maybe it would finally convince him that Jesse was a bad bet as a friend, a lover, and a traveling companion, since the whole kidnapping him and fucking up his life thing didn't seem do the trick.
Jesse slid off the bed and moved to stand directly in front of Sean. “Close your eyes."
"Why?” Sean looked wary.
"You wanted proof. Close your eyes and remember something that happened when you were a rugrat. Something that still makes you feel ... you know ... something."
Sean watched him for another second or two, then let his eyes fall shut. Jesse counted to five and placed his palm over the center of the younger man's chest. He sucked
in a lungful Sean's scent—sweat and male musk and something else he didn't have words to name. A glow rose off the younger man's skin, and he breathed that in, too. Lazy ... warm ... content.
Jesse licked his lips before he spoke. “Wherever you were, things were easy. Comfortable. You were happy."
Sean's eyes popped open. “How...” He stumbled backward, breaking the contact between his skin and Jesse's hand. “Freaky, dude."
Jesse stiffened. “That's me. Just another freak."
"Hey, man, I didn't mean it like that. It's just a lot to take in all at once."
"Whatever. I've been called worse.” Jesse forced a smile. “What were you remembering?"
Sean bit his lip and looked away. When he spoke, his voice fell into the deep ditch of his Texas drawl. “Saturday mornings when I was a kid. Me and Bobby, gettin’ up early and watchin’ cartoons, eatin’ crappy cereal right outta the box.” He shot Jesse a glance that looked full to the brim with pain. “It was good, y'know? We were free."
Jesse nodded. “How'd you and your brother end up so far from home, anyway?"
"I was at Berkeley,” Sean said. “Bobby followed me out here, was waitin’ tables and parkin’ cars. He liked the city life. Smithville's small.” He shrugged. “Too small for him, I guess, but San Francisco turned out to be way too big."
"Bobby's younger than you?"
"Older by four minutes. He's my twin."
Sean's answer hit Jesse like a lit cigarette punched into his solar plexus. No wonder the kid had caved to Paco's threats. “Sean, I...” He'd been about to say he was sorry, but Jesus Christ ... it didn't mean anything. He could spend the rest of his Goddamn life apologizing, and if Paco had Bobby hurt or killed, it was all a lot of worthless air. He turned away and reached for his duffel. “I'm gonna get that shower now."
"Wait.” Sean dropped a hand on his shoulder. Through the skin-to-skin contact, Jesse read a mix of emotions—none of them good. Pain ... fear ... loneliness.
"What d'you need, Sean?"
Silence. Jesse could feel the younger man wrestling with pride and uncertainty. Finally, Sean said, “There room in that shower for two?"
"Not when one of ‘em's the Jolly Green Giant."
"Fuck you,” Sean said with a smile in his voice Jesse could hear loud and clear.
Jesse turned to look at him. “Been there, done that, got the sore ass to prove it. Not up for a second round just yet."
Sean shrugged. “I have other skills."
"Yeah? Prove it. Or maybe you don't do tricks on command either."
"Depends on the audience.” Sean's tongue darted out and over his bottom lip.
It took them better than an hour, but they managed to use up every drop of hot water in the whole damn place. They landed flat on the bed, wet and gasping like a pair of fish on the deck of trawler. Jesse felt his eyes go heavy as Sean pulled the sheet and scratchy hotel blanket over the two of them. Before he drifted off, he glanced at Sean and caught him smiling.
"What?"
Sean's grin deepened. “I guess that'll teach you to leave a loaded gun where I can get it."
Jesse reached out and flicked a sloppy strand of hair off Sean's cheek. He let his hand fall to rest on the other man's chest. “Said I was crazy, kid, not stupid."
Sean's eyes widened as he let the words sink in. “It wasn't loaded? You son of a bitch."
Jesse fell asleep to the sound of his laughter.
* * * *
Later, when Sean thought about the five days and nights that followed, he had a hard time putting events in their correct sequence. Did they spend the first two days eating bad food and sleeping, only to wake up and fuck each other into hunger and near-exhaustion again? Or was it three days?
He remembered letting Jesse cuff him to the headboard. He remembered sweating the sheets nearly transparent while Jesse used his mouth and hands and cock on him for hours at a time, a full-body experience that left him wrung out and shaking, as if he'd suffered a high fever. He remembered returning the favor, and loving the way Jesse's voice broke when he finally gave in and begged.
He knew it was the morning of the fourth day that he woke with an urgent need to get out of the room and into the cold winter sunshine. “I'm gonna go apeshit if I don't get some fresh scenery.” His voice felt thick in his throat.
Jesse nodded. “We can go for a drive. Stretch our legs a little."
They ended up taking a side road off the main highway and following it ‘til the desert swallowed them whole. Out to a small cluster of sandblasted buildings that might once have been ... what? A town? Not likely. Two falling-down houses and a shed did not a town make.
Jesse'd brought his guns—the rifle and both pistols. “Need to get in some target practice. Hanging with you is making me soft, kid."
Sean laughed and stuck his hand down the front of Jesse's jeans. “I can fix the soft part."
"Pushy bitch.” Jesse shoved at him, but his grin made him look closer to sixteen than the thirty-three he admitted. “You know how to shoot?"
Sean shrugged. “I know how to use a deer rifle. I think we've already covered how useless I am with the .45."
"Aw, that's just ‘cause nobody ever bothered to teach you. Here...” Jesse fished around inside the duffel and pulled out the nine-millimeter. “A SIG Sauer P226. Made in Germany. Wrap your big-ass paw around it and see how it feels.” He passed the gun to Sean, and spent the next twenty minutes explaining its mechanics. Then he showed him how to load it. An hour later, Sean was shooting windowpanes out of the shed from twenty yards away.
"What about that?” He pointed to the rifle.
Jesse squinted at him. “It's an M24. The military version of the Remington 700. A little out of your league just now, but maybe in a few months...” He looked away and cleared his throat. “We should get moving."
Back at the motel, Sean watched Jesse take all three guns apart, clean them, and put them back together again. The way his hands moved, sure and confident, over every rise and dip of cold steel ... it made Sean's blood pump hard and hot. But it was when Jesse dug the knife from the bottom of the duffel, big and scary-sharp, and started running the blade back and forth over the black whetstone that Sean began to lose control. He managed to wait—barely—'til Jesse finished sharpening the knife and stuck it back into its sheath. Then he pounced.
"What the fuck?” Jesse's words sounded muffled. Lying facedown on the carpet tended to do that.
"Got you now,” Sean whispered against the back of his neck.
"You think?” Jesse said, and a second later Sean on was on his back, the older man's forearm pressed lightly on his throat. “I think it's the other way around."
"Tough guy, huh?"
"You know it.” Jesse pressed his hips against him, and Sean bucked up, already hard and desperate and leaking like a damn twelve-year-old who'd just figured out what his dick was for.
"Yeah? I think you're all talk."
Jesse laughed and slid a hand between them. He went after the button and zipper on Sean's jeans like they'd said something dirty about his mama. Then his hand was on Sean's cock and sliding down to cup his balls.
"Oh-Jesus-fuck-yes."
"Pretty eloquent there, college boy."
"Fuck you."
Jesse laughed again. “Maybe next time.” He took Sean's mouth, sloppy and hard, and Sean pretended to tolerate it when, in fact, he never wanted it to end...
...unless an end to the kissing meant the start of the blow job, and apparently it did. Jesse worked Sean's jeans over his hips and slid down his body to nuzzle at the place where his thigh met his hip.
"Christ, Jesse, please.” His body felt tight, like a bowstring stretched to near the point of snapping, and Jesse played him like the bastard he was. Swiped his tongue in patterns over the skin of Sean's belly, stopping to bite and suck heat to the surface. Sean shivered and tried not to moan like a girl.
Then Jesse's mouth was on him—right where he needed it to be—melting
his brain out through his cock. Hard, slow pulls and the rough of his tongue catching underneath, working the nerve endings ‘til Sean curled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the carpet once ... twice ... three times...
Later, with the bed a rumpled nest around them, Sean gave as good as he got. And after that he lay sprawled, half covering Jesse's limp body, mapping out the terrain of his chest with his mouth. He found a spot between Jesse's third and fourth ribs that made the older man twitch with every breath against it. He made that spot his own.
"Tryin’ to sleep, here,” Jesse said and laid his hand over Sean's flank.
"So sleep.” Sean nibbled and watched Jesse's abdominal muscles ripple.
"You're like a kid with a new toy, y'know that?"
Sean grinned and rested his chin on Jesse's chest, the better to see his face. “Yeah? You gonna spank me?"
Jesse smiled, just this side of wicked. “Ask me again later.” His eyes slid closed, and Sean watched him as he dozed.
* * * *
On the fifth day, they ran out of food.
"I'm coming with you."
"No.” Jesse said it like it was the end of the conversation. Like he had the right to say where Sean went and what he did.
Sean on purpose kept the hostility out of his voice when he said, “Well, unless you're gonna cuff me to the bed again—"
"Don't give me ideas.” Jesse wasn't smiling. He was checking the .45, checking the SIG—which he said he'd leave for Sean, “just in case."
"Jesse—"
"No.” He looked Sean for the first time in ten minutes. “Please. I'm asking you ... please.” Every line of his body looked pulled tight with tension.
"You act like you think something's gonna happen. What d'you know that I don't?"
The older man shrugged. “Just a feeling. I get them sometimes. Saved my ass more than once."
"All the more reason for me to come with you. I'll have your back. Unless you don't think I'm up to it."
And then Jesse was in his face, grabbing the front of his shirt and gripping his hair with hard fingers. “Don't screw with my head, kid. Not today."
Sean looked down into his eyes and saw raw fear. He swallowed. “All right, I'll stay. But I swear to God, if anything happens to you...” He let it go, because what threat could he possibly make that would trump Paco's thugs catching Jesse with his guard down? He leaned in and kissed him, and felt the other man relax maybe a fraction under the weight of his mouth. “Don't forget the root beer, okay? And more toothpaste. My mouth tastes like ass."
Phaze Fantasies, Vol. III Page 26