Hurricane

by BA Tortuga

  “A tattoo parlor. ’Kay.” Shane blinked, nice and slow. “Uh. Where are we?”

  “Memphis? I think.” A sign. Yeah. Memphis. Go him for being right.

  “’Kay.” It took a second for Shane’s body and brain to get together, but he managed. Sort of. “There’s some on Second Street.”

  “Okay.” He could find Second Street, surely. They had a map on Shane’s cell too, if they needed it. In fact, Shane gave him directions, and soon enough, they had two choices. “Which one looks better, babe?”

  “That one there—the little one that looks like an apartment.”

  “Works for me.” Parking was a bitch, but they found a ten-dollar lot across the way that looked secure enough, and Galen grinned over at Shane. “Let’s go see what they’ll do for me.”

  “Yeah? You ready?” Shane stretched, back popped. “You know what you want, or are we just looking?”

  “I know. Someone else already did it, but I don’t think he’ll mind if I copy it.” Holding his breath, Galen waited for Shane to meet his eyes again.

  “Yeah?” Shane’s eyes searched his, the smile growing, sweet and slow.

  “Yeah. I like it so much I want one of my own.” Oh, thank God. Shane liked the idea. So did he. It would mean something.

  “That would be something, huh? Our ink.” Yeah. Yeah, Shane was into it.

  “It would.” He leaned over, put his hand on Shane’s thigh. “Where should I get it? My hip? My back?”

  Shane reached out, touched his arm. “Right here. Where people can see it.”

  “You got it, darlin’. Let’s go.” He wasn’t afraid of needles, at least, and given his past, that was a blessing.

  “’Kay, Len.” Shane was damn near bouncy, hand reaching out to almost touch him, over and over.

  The studio was bright, full of flash art on the walls, and clean. Shane had a good eye. Galen approved. He kind of let Shane go ahead, though. Shane was better at this shit.

  Shane did his smiling, nodding, charming thing, showing this big old dude with scales inked all over him the fancy little G and S that was on Shane’s shoulder.

  “That’s what I want,” Galen said finally. “On my arm. Here.”

  Shane nodded. “Right there where the muscles curve. It’ll fit just right.”

  The guy hummed and nodded and peered and finally said, “Sure. I can do that.”

  Galen watched Shane talk prices and shit and grinned, waiting to fill out the paperwork and all. Shane had just never met a stranger. Of course, when Shane stripped off his shirt and leaned over the counter for the guy to trace that ink, Galen was wondering if that was exactly a good quality.

  Still, if he wanted that tat to be his too, he kinda had to let it go. Goddamn, he hated anyone else touching Shane. Those heated blue eyes never left him, though. Shane stared, watching him. Loving him. That alone kept him from growling, and before he knew it, the big guy was leading him to the back to sit and get prepped.

  Shane stayed close, doing his own growling when the big guy suggested he could wait in the lobby. “No. This one I get to be here for.”

  Galen chuckled, winking. “You sure? I didn’t get to see yours.” But he nodded to the little steel-framed stool that the artist wasn’t using. He wanted Shane there.

  “I’m sure. You didn’t get to see mine, so I have to be here for this.”

  “That’s fair….” Somehow.

  They got moving after that, and there wasn’t much chatting. Just cleaning and setting up and stinging pain.

  Shane leaned forward, eyes on his. “When I got mine, I was all stressed out, and I needed something that made me believe you were coming home.”

  “Now you know, huh?” Staring right back into Shane’s eyes made him feel like a fucking god, blocking out everything else—the buzz of the needle, the building adrenaline rush, everything.

  “Now I know.” One finger touched his chin, just once, just real quick.

  That touch electrified him like nothing else, making his skin tingle. God, all of a sudden the feel of the needle was almost too much, too hot.

  “Breathe.” Shane smiled at him, and he could smell it, smell how much Shane wanted him. Damn.

  “I am. Kinda.” Galen grinned a little, trying not to breathe hard enough to shake his arm.

  “I kept thinking about New Orleans, when I got my rings. About how it was, right after. About how you looked.”

  “How I looked?” Lord, Shane had been shaking, hard as nails when he’d gotten those little nipple rings. Galen had never seen anything so hot before or since.

  “Uh-huh. Like I was something.”

  “Darlin’, you are something. Something fine.” He figured the tattoo guy wasn’t gonna kick their asses, since he hadn’t by now. He could jones a little.

  Shane pinked but didn’t look away, stared right into him.

  The sting went on and on until he thought he’d explode, but every time the guy asked if he wanted a break he said no. Galen could handle it. All he had to do was stare at Shane and it was all good.

  Finally it was over, Shane’s fingers tracing just the edges of his ink, the skin throbbing—hot and tender and sensitive as hell. They went to the mirror so he could look at it. Damn. Look at that. Just look. His and Shane’s letters, right there.

  “My Galen.” The words were whispered. Soft and low.

  “Yours.” His whole body felt like it might explode. “We need to find a hotel.”

  “Yeah. Now. Put your shirt on.” Shane was vibrating against him, just shaking.

  “Uh-huh. Thanks, man,” he said to the artist, smiling a little but too damned tense to be overly friendly.

  “Anytime. You not getting more ink tonight, man?” Those eyes were looking, too damn close.

  Shane shook his head, laughed. “No. I have plans. Maybe on the way home. Come on, Len.”

  “You got it.” They’d paid up front, so he grabbed Shane’s hand and dragged him right out, the truck seeming miles away.

  “That was the hottest thing….” Shane took the keys out, tossed him the phone. “Find a hotel.”

  “We shoulda asked the guy….” But this was Memphis. There’d be somewhere. Close.

  “Yeah.” Shane got the truck started. “I’ll head for the highway. There’s bound to be something.”

  “Soon.” He reached down with the arm that wasn’t throbbing and rubbed himself a little. Yeah.

  “Don’t you come. That’s mine.” Oh fuck. Hot. That little possessive growl did it for him.

  “I’ll hold on, darlin’. I can do that.” Maybe. He hoped. Jesus fuck, Shane smelled good.

  It didn’t take Shane long to find a Holiday Inn and bully the little boy at the front desk into a room key. They got to the room before Galen grabbed Shane and ripped that T-shirt off so he could see the ink that inspired his. Just barely.

  Shane flexed, fingers reaching for his belt. Each little muscle went tight, Shane’s tanned skin flushing dark. Galen let Shane get his jeans open, get them off his hips. Then he bent and licked at Shane’s tattoo, biting down just beside it.

  “Fuck!” Shane jerked, hands gripping his hips good and hard.

  “Yeah, darlin’. Good.” His hips jerked, pushing into Shane’s touch, his ass wiggling. God, he needed. Shane slid down, mouth dropping on his cock like a lead balloon, taking him down to the root.

  “Fuck! Shane!” Jesus, he was gonna. Yeah. Possibly. Oh God. His hips snapped, and Galen tried to control it, but he couldn’t. He had to go with it.

  Shane’s hands were fucking everywhere—his wrist, his balls, his ass, his hip.

  “Shane. You’re making me crazy. I need.” His hands worked restlessly, touching Shane’s shoulder, fingers rubbing that tat over and over.

  That pretty mouth popped off. “What? What do you need, Len? I’ll give it to you.”

  “You. I need you.” That probably didn’t make sense. Shane was giving him that hot mouth for all he was worth.

  “I’m yours
.” Shane spun him around, tripping him on his jeans a little as that hot tongue slid along his crease. He fell forward onto the bed, bouncing on his hands when Shane’s tongue pierced his hole.

  “Yeah. Oh, Shane.” Man, how long had it been? Shane rarely took the lead, and Galen rarely took Shane in. He would now. In a heartbeat. Shane hummed, the sound vibrating around his hole. Jesus. That made his thighs go rock-hard. His balls drew up, his whole body shuddering at how fast he was about to go off. “In, darlin’. In now, before I lose it.”

  Shane groaned, lips sliding up his spine as the noise of belt and zipper sounded. “You ready enough?”

  “Ready. Now. Please.” Pushing back, Galen braced on his elbows, feeling the new tattoo pull at the skin of his arm.

  “I got you.” Shane lined up and pushed in, cock spreading him, stretching him and filling him up.

  “Uhn.” Back arching, he pushed and rocked, needing more of the burn, more of Shane. “Love.”

  “Uh-huh. Love. Mine.” They started moving hard enough their skin slapped together.

  Galen was all but singing, his cries coming so close together that they sounded like a weird kind of music. Shane felt so good. So hot, so thick inside him. Callused fingers wrapped around his cock, tugging good and hard—just like he needed it. Fuck him. Shane was hot as a two-dollar pistol.

  “That’s it, darlin’. Oh, that. Right there.” Shane’s thumb hit that spot just under the head of his cock, and his whole body clamped down.

  “Fuck. Fuck, Galen, good.” Shane’s hips jerked, cock sliding over his gland.

  Good…. That didn’t even begin to describe it. He managed maybe one more thrust into Shane’s hand before he shot, hollering his damned fool head off.

  Shane moaned, moving restlessly, all that rhythm lost as heat filled him. “Galen. Galen. Damn.”

  “Yeah. Feel you deep, darlin’.” That just…. Galen wanted to bust with what he was feeling.

  “Mmm-hmm. Deep. Love you, Len. I do.”

  “I know, darlin’. I know. Not leaving you. Want you.” They shifted, kind of flopping so they could tangle.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Shane snuggled in, nose against his cheek.

  “Good.” What more could he say? He’d put Shane into his skin. The man had been in his blood for a long time. Hell, he’d braved a hurricane for them.

  “Yeah.” Shane patted his ass, resting against him.

  “Where are we going next, darlin’? Did you look at the map?” They still had a few days before they needed to be at their cabin in the mountains.

  “There’s a couple of silly roadside things, but I think we need to go to Kansas City tomorrow, just goof around a day.”

  “Cool. Sounds like fun.” He liked music, liked the idea of fucking around and touristing with Shane. Besides, barbecue.

  “It does. We’ll go play.” He got another of those grins, pure happy.

  He’d spend a lifetime playing with Shane if he could. Galen couldn’t imagine it any other way.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  OH SHIT.

  Shit.

  He hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks.

  Months.

  Maybe longer.

  Galen was in rare form, joking and goofing off, climbing on street signs, dragging him through every cheesy gift shop in Kansas City and showing off his ink.

  Shane was having a ball.

  “Oh! We need to have barbecue, lover!” Galen stopped and sniffed, then pointed at a little hole in the wall. “There.”

  “Sure.” He laughed, nodded. “You mean you’re hungry? After the fudge? The popcorn? The hamburger the size of your head?”

  “What? I’m a big boy!” Len had been working out every morning at the hotels they stayed at, and he was looking ripped, man.

  Shane stopped, let himself take a brazen, slow look. “Hell, yeah.”

  Those tanned cheeks darkened above Galen’s beard, just flushing dark. “You like it, darlin’?”

  “Uh-huh.” He fucking adored it.

  “I like it you liking it. If you’re not hungry, though, we can come back.” Grinning huge, Len came over and popped his ass.

  “Hey! I can eat.” He headed for the restaurant door, copping a feel of Galen’s balls on the way.

  “Hoo yeah.” Following him close, Len hummed happily, almost a blues tune, like the one they’d heard at lunch.

  Fuck, he loved Galen like this. The man fascinated him.

  Oh dude.

  Smell that spice.

  “Makes your mouth water. Hey, honey. Two please.” After a wink from Len, the little hostess chick wiggled and giggled and gave them the best table available.

  “Lord, Lord. She’s gonna come over to get in your lap and ride.” Shane winked, settled down. Man, look at that gal shake it.

  “You’d tear her hair out.” Flirty Len was all his, just like all the other variations. It made him happy, deep down.

  “Yep. I’m the only one allowed to ride, man.” Besides, his hair was too short to pull.

  “There you go. I’m all about the ride. Oh man. Ribs and sauce and coleslaw.” Galen bouncing was the cutest thing ever.

  “And bread. Lots of bread. You want beer or tea?”

  “Tea, I think. I better hold off on the beer. We need to hit the night life for some music later.” One booted foot hit his under the table.

  “There’s all sorts of friendly clubs here. Dancing, drag shows—I bet I can find a bar that lets me pour.” Although he wanted to dance, there was nothing like Galen rubbing against him.

  “I bet we can. I could use some Jack. We could boogie.” Oh, someone else was willing to dance. Woo.

  “Works for me. I brought my leather pants.”

  “No shit?” Those black eyes settled on him, hot as lasers. “I want to see that.”

  “No shit. My pants, my silky white shirt. My chain.” He could flirt too.

  “Oh God.” Yeah, he could see how that was making Len’s nipples hard, could smell how hot Len was getting for him.

  Shane preened a little, muscles tightening up, cock trying to perk up.

  “So, ribs and what else?” The waitress was back.

  “Coleslaw. Bread. Do you have sausage?” He winked at Galen, then looked at the girl, eyes wide.

  “We like sausage,” Len added, laughing with him. The little girl surprised them by cackling and nodding.

  “Sure, guys. Sausage. You got it.”

  They both grinned, settling in with their tea. Blues music poured out of the jukebox, the smells of the food did wonders for his appetite, and hell, the ink on Galen’s arm just kept catching his eyes. Every so often Len would look at it too, kinda wondering like. It rocked. It so did. He thought Len thought so too.

  “Mine.” It made him happy to say it. Hot and tingling, balls-deep.

  “Yours,” Len agreed, munching on the bread that had magically appeared. “Oh, good cornbread.”

  “Mmm. Butter.” God, they were eating their way across America. It was a wonderful thing.

  “Uh-huh.” Foot sliding against his again, Galen licked butter off that amazing lower lip. “I can think of some great things to do with slick stuff.”

  “Perv.” Hell, yeah.

  “You know it. I have plans for your ass, darlin’.” That grin spoke volumes. Kama sutra like.

  “Mmm.” He was so going to be on the receiving end of those plans. “You look like the cat that got the canary.”

  “Oh, I am. I have this wonderful, terrible idea.” Lord, Len was wicked-wicked. It was a fine thing. It was like going on vacation together had renewed the man.

  “You gonna share, Len, or you going to make me wait?” Jesus, he was just vibrating.

  “You have to wait, darlin’. That’s part of the fun.” They got their food then, and it smelled so good, looked fine too. Len moaned happily, and it was like sex.

  Meat and sauce that was spicy enough to singe your nose hairs, creamy coleslaw, ice cold tea—it was amazing. Hell, it
was almost as good as home. They finally sat back, patting their bellies and grinning. “I think we’ll have to wait on dessert, honey.”

  “God, yes. No more. I’ll bust.”

  “Nope. We can walk some off. Dance the rest off with a beer, yeah?” Even the foot against his ankle felt heavy.

  “Hell, yes. You know I love to dance.” And with Galen? It was perfect.

  “I do. It’s been too damned long.” They paid the bill and headed out to wander the streets, soak stuff in.

  They found one of the dance clubs that wasn’t too loud, wasn’t too crowded, wasn’t too young, and wandered in. Man, it was dark, but the place seemed clean, the clientele local. He approved.

  They could dance the night away here without getting their asses kicked. Galen chuckled. “See if you can get me a whiskey?”

  “If I can’t pour it, I’ll watch him do it. I promise.” He headed over to the bar, nodding and smiling, ending up chatting up a huge bartender with a white smile in a round damn near blue-black face. The guy’s name was Tag, and he was from fucking Samoa, which was cool, and he let Shane pour the Jack, which was cooler.

  “You’re a stud,” Len told him when he came back with shots and beer. “Thank God you’re mine.”

  Oh.

  Oh dude.

  He caught himself beaming a little, like the world’s biggest dork. “Barkeep’s a cool guy.”

  “Yeah? I bet you have his whole life story.” That shot slammed down, Galen’s throat working. Then one big hand closed around his, hauling him to the dance floor. “Shake it for me, darlin’.”

  He snagged his shot, took it, and then got to dancing. Oh man. Yeah. Hell, yeah. The music had just enough of an old school rhythm for Galen to really get into it, and man, that man had good hips. A fine ass. Long, long legs. They bumped together, slid apart, managed to tease just enough to make things hot, make things ache a little.

  One hand landed on his ass, Len’s thumb rubbing across the small of his back. Together, back and forth, they got a real bump and grind going. His nerves up and down his spine went fucking crazy, tingling and shit, making him all loose, riding this like the best storm. The best wave.