Made to Suffer (Journeyman Book 3)

by Golden Czermak

  Light had kindled in the darkness it seemed, shining bright with hope.

  BRANDON LED MARCUS north, up the sidewalk adjacent to a long row of darkened buildings on their left while the ocean, full of boats and yachts, bobbed gently to the right.

  Joey trailed behind them, for some reason now shirtless in the cold. The look on his face was one of complete misery as a bitter wind kicked up from around the corner. Ironically, it was the corner of an ice cream shop.

  “I have never loathed the thought of cookies and cream more than I do right now, Brandon,” Joey muttered through his tightly clenched teeth, afraid to frown should his face break off. “Thank you for ruining that for me.”

  “I’m sorry lad,” Brandon apologized profusely as he looked meekly over his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, we’re almost to the B&B now. Less than three minutes up the way.”

  He pointed ahead but Joey didn’t say anything, Marcus staving a chuckle at his expense due to the harshness of the wind. In reality, it didn't feel any better for him, still wearing his soaked clothes.

  “I thought it would work,” said Brandon thoughtfully over in Marcus’ direction. “So I just gave it a go. Guess my spell casting skills are a wee bit gammy.”

  “You didn’t say it may work, I believe your exact words were…” Joey paused while shivering, trying to fake a really bad Irish accent. “No worries my Joey! I’m well versed in this particular warming spell.”

  “I called it a heating spell, aye,” Brandon replied. “At least something came about!”

  “Yeah!” Joey snapped back. “My shirt came about… in flames!”

  “Well, yes,” Brandon said nonchalantly, “I did say that I was sorry about that.”

  Thankfully for Marcus, the back and forth between those two brought them all to their destination faster than would have otherwise happened. They strode past a waist high stone wall with a narrow metal gate about three-quarters of the way down. There was a dense collection of trees, bushes and other plants lining the opposing side of the wall, acting as a huge green barrier.

  A rectangular sign craned out from the vegetation, dangling precariously above their heads. The name of the place was apparently The Trickster’s Tank, emblazoned with an equally quirky logo. Beneath the swaying panel, a thinner sign read ‘vacancies’, which promptly transformed to ‘no rooms available’ with a wave of Brandon’s hand.

  “At least that's one thing I'm skilled at: sleight of hand,” Brandon boasted as he lifted the latch on the gate. Opening it inwards, he motioned for them to enter. “Go on now and by the way, welcome to our humble abode.”

  As Marcus and Joey entered the small garden, the temperature rose, becoming comfortably warm like a summer’s day. Marcus was even tempted to remove his own shirt, giving in just so he could get the dampness off his skin. As he peeled away the heavy cloth, he felt ten times better.

  Brandon followed close behind the two of them, closing the gate. “Well, I can certainly tell you both hit the weights,” he observed, marching past their shirtless bodies to the entrance of a white two-story house ahead. “All that grand American food no doubt. It almost motivates me to get off my arse and hit the gym, but then I remember who I share this space with and all that training and dieting depresses me… a shit ton.”

  Brandon rapped his knuckles against the wood door and a few heavy footsteps later, it opened.

  One of the biggest humans Joey and Marcus had ever seen was standing in the doorway, literally with shoulders as wide as the entrance and a thick chest which strained against his black tank top. His legs were no different, those veined tree trucks threatening to rip right through his shorts.

  “Dax,” Brandon introduced, “meet Misters Marcus Sheridan and Joey Mosely. Our counterparts from across the pond.”

  “It’s great to meet you two,” Dax responded, shaking each of their hands. His grip was very strong, Marcus suspecting the man had no idea how much so. “Dax Wallace at your service, though folks around here just call me Hammer.”

  “We were told briefly about that,” Marcus acknowledged, “but not the reason; anything in particular?”

  Dax grinned and lord, even his face had muscles beneath his well trimmed goatee. “It stems from the past, but what good things don't? Back before the Incursion, there was a time I was knee-deep in werewolves. Probably, oh, between the late nineties all the way up to when shit hit the fan in twenty-ten. Seemed no matter where I turned back in the States, I found them, or shall I say those dogs found me. My weapon of choice happened to be a silver sledgehammer with an iron handle and I was pretty damn good at using it. I still carry one with me to this day… works just as well against many of the nightmares we come across.”

  Joey gulped loudly, imagining the hulk swinging that around as if it were nothing.

  “Damn remarkable,” Marcus replied, genuinely impressed, “and also quite an ingenious way to employ three different elements.”

  Hammer beamed, though he didn't quite follow. “I agree, though three?”

  Marcus rubbed on his beard before answering. “Yup. Silver for one. Iron, two. And blunt force trauma, three.”

  They all laughed, except for Brandon.

  “That's just grand…” he interjected, shuffling past the doorway; somehow there was a gap he could fit through. “You lot can admire your muscles in a flex off later. In the meantime, Hammer, can you snag a couple pairs of your sweats and vests for the lads?”

  “You sure?” asked Marcus.

  “Ah, it’s no bother,” Brandon replied.

  “Not at all,” Hammer concurred, stepping to the side so Joey and Marcus could actually fit through the doorframe.

  “You all take a minute to change and get comfortable, then let's meet up in the lounge. I’ll put on some food and nab us some drinks. Any preferences?”

  Joey perked his head up, a wishful smile on his face. “I may be able to find it in my heart to forgive you,” he said, rubbing on his naked shoulders, “in exchange for a glass of orange juice…”

  Some time later, the four of them settled into conversation around the fireplace, its warm glow filling every corner of the well decorated room. Brandon and Hammer were each seated in their respective armchairs – the bigger man’s worn and tattered – while the other two were sprawled out on the sofa, a fleece blanket covering their legs.

  “So, it's up north?” Joey asked, taking a sip out of his third glass.

  “Aye,” Brandon replied, surprised OJ wasn't pouring out of Joey’s pores by now, “up around the Cliffs of Moher. It's what, about three hours drive from here?”

  “Yep,” Hammer confirmed, shifting in his seat, his upper body still smothering the back of the chair. “About half that by JM transit. Unfortunately, you can’t directly teleport there; unsure you’re familiar with doorways across the realms but they’re potent energy prevents that kind of transportation.”

  Marcus and Joey both exchanged glances with a smile. “Oh yes,” Marcus said. “We know about that quite well.”

  Hammer smiled too, though he was unsure what they were referring to. He continued, “There is an ancient henge at the cliffs, which serves as the main entrance to the Otherworld. You should be able to enter there with no issues, especially being from the Order. Even with Fenran acting an ass, the old agreements should still be in place.”

  “But for how long?” Brandon questioned, his tea getting cold. “Times are changing, way faster than any of us would like. After that month long lull, activity seems to have kicked into overdrive.”

  Joey sat up. “We had the same issue back in Houston. No supernatural activity for months and then boom! We couldn't get away from it fast enough.”

  “No doubt the Noctis has everyone up in arms,” Marcus spoke softly. “Our teammate Gage is out right there now, trying to seal a deal with vampires of all creatures… rally them to our cause against the night.”

  Hammer definitely knew who Gage Crosse was, admiring him greatly for his slaying p
rowess. He winced at the notion of those talks, trying to imagine himself in a similar position but with werewolves. “I don't know if I could manage,” he admitted. “More power to him, as I know he's going to come out the other end a changed man, regardless of the outcome.”

  Joey gave Marcus a worried look, Hammer taking note of it.

  “But no need to worry,” he added. “Gage has gone through much worse, I imagine.”

  Hammer spent the next few seconds looking at the two of them, bouncing his eyes from one to the other, studying their dynamic. “Pardon my asking,” he said, “and if it's too forward just tell me to piss off, but you both seem to get along really well. Are you two…”

  “Together?” Marcus finished. “I'd like to think so, but admittedly we haven't known each other all too long.”

  Hammer smiled, especially seeing Joey do the same. “It's great when it's so new. Hold onto it, as it’s even better years down the road. Stirs the memories… in a good way.”

  Brandon looked down at his cold cup and stood, heading into the kitchen to top it off.

  “What about you two?” Joey asked. “In the same position?”

  Hammer laughed.

  “Oh, no!” shouted Brandon adamantly from the kitchen, returning a short time later with a piping hot cuppa.

  “Brandon and I are just teammates,” Hammer clarified with a deep chuckle. “Not that it’s a bad thing by any means. Well, mostly. Brandon’s always been a bit of a jokester and –”

  A jolt of electricity shocked Hammer’s bare feet. He shot an arched brow over to Brandon, who was taking a sip out of his mug.

  “Whatever's the matter?” he asked innocently, Hammer returning his attention to the others.

  “That said,” he continued gruffly, “we do get along really well but not in the same capacity as you two. I was actually reminiscing about my wife and the times we had together before she… succumbed. I can see ourselves and what we had in your relationship.”

  Marcus appreciated the sentiment, but looked to the carpet sadly, rubbing his toes across the fibers. “Werewolves?”

  Hammer nodded. “I knew that this life was tough, but dammit I don’t think that anything can prepare you to… do those things to someone you love.”

  Marcus looked to Joey lovingly, rubbing his back.

  “And you what about you, Brandon?” asked Joey. “Been affected by this great life in the Order?”

  “Thankfully, nothing yet to ruin my cheery disposition,” he answered, “No wifey either, just myself and the tank over here, though I’ve had my fair share of ladies over the years.”

  “More like they’ve had their fill of you,” Hammer butted in.

  After the laughing subsided, the group spent another couple hours in wild discussions. They spoke of harrowing adventures and all sorts of supernatural wonders, bringing up everything from their pasts and even hinting at what they would do in the future, after the impending end of the world.

  Soon, fatigue began bearing down on the entire team and as they all exchanged yawns, they decided it would be best if they took some rest.

  The morning would be there before they knew it.

  THE COZY ROOM was dark, lights off and curtains drawn tight, though some stray light of the moon seeped in past the edges. Joey laid on the bed in the quiet, his hands restfully between his head and the pillow as he stared to the ceiling wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  He had little knowledge of the Otherworld and its inhabitants, so excitement found itself tempered with tried and true Journeyman caution. They would be setting off in a few short hours after breakfast. Unfortunately, Brandon and Hammer were needed elsewhere – a case involving sluagh having cropped up near Athlone in the central part of the country. They didn’t have the luxury of time to handle both events, so decidedly the group had to split.

  The soft sound of falling of water rose out of the silence, drawing Joey’s attention to the bathroom.

  “Hey, Joey?” said Marcus, the manliness of his call echoing from the shower. “Can you nab the soap off the counter for me? I might have forgotten it.”

  “Sure,” Joey said, getting up to walk into the foggy room. Seeing the little round bar in a tray by the sink, he snatched it up, the steam making it a little bit of a chore to unwrap the plastic.

  “Trouble there?” Marcus asked, shower curtain pulled back just enough for him to peek through.

  “I'm getting it,” he replied, sticking his tongue out as the plastic wrap finally tore away.

  “He scores!” Marcus jabbed with a chuckle. “Why don't you bring it over and join me while you're at it?”

  Joey hesitated and had no idea why.

  However, Marcus pulled the curtain back a little more to show off his excitement and Joey’s opinion was promptly swayed in the ‘yes’ direction.

  “I dunno about this,” Joey said. “It could get slippery in there.”

  Marcus laughed. “That’s when the fun begins. So, are you in or out? This offer expires in three… two…”

  By the time Marcus finished counting to one, Joey had already stripped off his underwear and was climbing in. Handing off the soap, the flowing heat felt really good against his skin. For a few minutes, they simply admired each other under the splashing water drops, wondering what they had done to deserve something remotely like this.

  Marcus then smirked devilishly, dropping the soap. “Whoops,” he said innocently, being so far from it at that moment.

  “Seriously?” Joey replied as he squatted down to pick it up, grazing by Marcus’ thick, inked shaft. It was growing longer and wider as he watched, the chunky ring piercing in its head beckoning like shiny candy. Though he didn't want to take his eyes off, they looked back up and the overhead light cast a halo around Marcus’ head, the splashes off his hair looking like sparks.

  The shower poured down the god-like ridges of his midsection, channeled directly over his now full erection. With one of his hands now rubbing up and down those amazing abs, Joey turned slightly and used the other to guide the large tip into his mouth, tending to its soaking wants.

  Marcus leaned his head back against the wall and let out a groan – precum against the hotness and talent of Joey's tongue one of the best experiences he’d ever had. The more he stood there, the more he held back, and the more he didn’t want this to end.

  Damn, Joey, where the hell did you learn… Oh God…

  Marcus opened his eyes and glanced down at Joey’s soaking wet hair, grabbing it in a clenched fist before guiding him up and down and back again as far as he could fit. Marcus relished the sight of himself barely fitting, spreading Joey's lips wide while it disappeared in and out of that skilled mouth. Pleasure was mounting again, so fast that he nearly came.

  Yanking Joey back up, he kissed him without delay, the intensity of their exchanges increasing with each passing second. He could feel Joey against him, getting more excited, now unsure if the rush he felt was coming from the hot water or from Joey’s elation. Regardless, their passion reached fever pitch and Marcus had to turn the water off.

  “Bed. Now,” he ordered.

  Joey was quick to grab the towels, tossing one to Marcus as he exited. Quickly they were dried off, well enough not to slip, leaping onto the bed.

  Resuming their lip-locked embrace, the duo rolled around, exploring every inch of one another with their hands, their tongues, and more. The sheets stood no chance, kicked to the floor in a messy pile. Ending up side by side, Marcus’ fingers found their way around to Joey's ass, caressing his soft skin before grabbing hold of it firmly. He coaxed Joey up on top as he nestled himself in-between a couple of pillows, fingers continuing to tease while the head of his dick also joined in on the fun. The coolness of his Prince Albert pressed against the heat of Joey’s body was inviting.

  Joey wanted him inside, badly, reaching across the nightstand to pluck a condom from his wallet. He eased it over Marcus, lubing it up au natural, then let him in – the size unwilling to be accomm
odated at first but quickly making itself at home.

  Marcus plowed into him, his monster burying itself inside Joey over and over again. It was hard and it was fast, a carnal rhythm only rivaled by the beating of their hearts. They rose and fell in tune, pressure building once more until Marcus decided to shift gears. He pressed his hands against Joey’s backside, lifting him off his throbbing cock while shoving Joey's straight into his waiting mouth. All the way in.

  Joey was surprised that Marcus took him, never indicating that was something that crossed his mind. Yet there he was, doing it so willingly and God, so satisfyingly deep, that it helped fuel Joey's back and forth grind. He watched his own slippery self getting deep-throated, finally tipping over the dam and gushing right down Marcus’ throat. He swallowed every drop, no ifs ands or buts about it, much to Joey's continued astonishment. Because of that, he nearly lost himself in ecstasy again, but Marcus extended the torture by shoving him back down on his firm shaft.

  The hammering that followed was heavy and powerful, strokes filled with the kind of pleasurable pain that amplified every sensation to a point of no return. They both went there and beyond, letting out groans that would've given the most carnal beast shifters a run for their money.

  Marcus’ head sank back into the pillow, Joey rolling on his back before burrowing his face in the space just under Marcus’ shoulder. Both were spent as their manly scents mingled, sending them into a satisfying sleep in each other's arms.

  FROSTY WINDS BLASTED across Elliot Bay, sweeping over the faces of the Order operatives assembled at the end of Sixteenth Avenue West. There were eleven of them present, waiting on a twelfth while looking out past the squat railings to a port across the way. The largest warehouse along the docks, leftmost from their position, was the target.

  A bald man stepped forward, taking in the dark and foggy night as his breath trailed behind his clean shaven head. He was young though experienced beyond his years and also brash in his swagger. The man could even give the fabled Gage Crosse a run for his money there.