by Nora Phoenix
Blake’s finger slowly disappeared inside him, Aaron’s muscles tightening around him before he willed himself to relax. Blake moved his digit with slow, deliberate strokes. Aaron moaned, spread his legs even wider and pushed his ass back.
“You like that? You like having my finger inside you?”
“More,” Aaron breathed. “Please, Blake.”
The finger withdrew but came back with the middle finger next to it. Blake slid them in. Another moan rolled off Aaron’s lips, and his knees buckled.
“Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”
Aaron panted little sounds as Blake’s fingers slid in and out of him. The friction sent ripples of pleasure through him, radiating to the very tip of his toes.
Suddenly Blake moved, pulling back his fingers with an impatient curse. Aaron almost tripped as Blake lowered himself on the closed lid of the toilet seat, dragging Aaron with him. He pulled him on his lap, but planted his feet wide so Aaron’s ass was wide open, immediately finding his hole again with his fingers.
Aaron let out a sigh of pleasure. The new position allowed him to go slack against Blake and concentrate fully on the glorious sensation of Blake fucking his ass with his fingers.
“Ugh…Blake…oh, so good…more,” he babbled, the sounds flowing from his mouth without his control.
“My pretty boy,” Blake whispered. “You ready for more?”
“Yes…please, yes…”
A third finger was added, his ass burning as it stretched to accommodate the extra intrusion. He moved back against Blake’s hand, welcoming it.
“Look at you, riding my fingers. You were born for this, sexy. You’re gonna explode when I fill you up with my cock. My big cock in your tight ass, can you imagine how that’s gonna feel?”
Full. So full. Aaron could almost taste it, how perfect it would be. His balls pulled up so quickly, Aaron didn’t even have time to warn Blake. With a loud shout he came, spurting his fluids all over himself and Blake.
Blake found his mouth, kissed him deeply while he kept fucking his ass till Aaron stopped shivering with the force of his release. “My sexy Aaron,” Blake said when he broke off the kiss. “You came without ever touching your cock. If you needed any more proof that you’re a true bottom, there you go.”
Aaron looked down. Blake’s black shirt was now covered in spunk, dripping down from his stomach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t feel it coming.” The double meaning of his words registered and he snickered.
Blake grinned. “No worries, puppy. I’ll proudly wear your cum. Now, get dressed. I want to take you home.”
Aaron’s face fell. He scrambled off Blake’s lap, his shoulders dropping low. Had he done something to displease Blake? “Don’t you want me to…”
Gentle hands pulled him back. Blake kissed him on his forehead, the most tender of kisses he’d ever given Aaron. “I’m sorry, Aaron. You deserve more than a quickie in some filthy bathroom. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Yes, I want you. But not here, not like this.”
Aaron’s heart quieted down. “I loved what you did to me,” he said softly.
“Get dressed. We’ll go home, and I’ll do it all over again.”
8
They barely spoke during the ride home. Blake was lost in thought. He never should’ve taken Aaron to those bathrooms. They were known as the fuck stalls, and Blake himself had made good use of them on more than one occasion. But dammit, Aaron deserved more than that, especially considering how new this all was to him. When Sexy Aaron came out to play, it was all too easy to forget how inexperienced he was. And how young.
Blake drove past the complex where his studio was, glancing to his left out of habit. Wait, what? He turned his eyes back to the road, took his foot off the gas, then looked left again. There it was again, a flickering light inside the studio.
It was three in the morning. Someone was breaking into his studio, for fuck’s sake. He turned left on the next turn and parked the car on an adjacent lot.
“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.
“Aaron, there’s a light inside the studio. I think someone is breaking in. I need you to stay here and call 911, okay?”
Aaron nodded, reaching for his phone. Blake touched his chin and turned his face toward him. “Promise me you’ll stay in the car. If anyone comes after you, floor it. I can take care of myself, but not if I have to worry about you.”
Aaron’s face turned white. “Be careful,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Blake kissed him quickly. “Always.”
He made his way out of the car, closing the door as softly as he could. When he looked back, Aaron was already on the phone. He was an inquisitive little shit at times, but Blake trusted him to do as he was told in this case.
He stuck close to the buildings as he moved toward the studio, grateful for the black shirt, black jacket, and dark jeans he was wearing. He was barely visible in the pitch-black night, the moon covered with rainy clouds. It was probably why he’d seen the light move—a flashlight, most likely. What the hell were they looking for? It wasn’t like he kept cash there, or anything else of value.
He was next door now, crouching behind the gigantic air conditioning unit of the ballet studio adjacent to his unit. The thing made a racket like you wouldn’t believe in the summer, and Blake had cursed it on more than one occasion, but at this moment he was grateful for the cover it afforded him. He wasn’t stupid enough to barge in without knowing how many people were inside and what the hell they wanted.
That turned out to be a smart decision because right when he decided to try and see if he could sneak a look inside, the front door of his studio opened. Blake made himself as small as he could. The door was closed softly, then the lock turned. Huh, are they locking up behind them? Why the hell would they do that?
“Let’s go, guys,” a male voice said. “We’ll come back during the day, see if we have more luck.” It was soft, but the accent was thick. It tickled Blake’s memory. Where had he heard that accent before?
He moved soundlessly, peeking around the corner. There were three guys, all dressed in black and with baseball caps on.
“Duncan should have never let that little shit take jiujitsu lessons,” another guy said. He turned his head as he lit up a cigarette, briefly illuminating his face. Blake couldn’t make out many details, but the Red Sox cap was easy to spot. He pulled back his head, not wanting to risk the guy spotting him.
“Well, let’s not complain. There are only a couple of dojos near the address we have for Stephan. Even if the address was fake, chances are he’s close. All we have to do is find the right dojo,” the first guy said.
Blake’s brain made the connection instantly. Indy. They had to be looking for Indy. The accent was Massachusetts, Boston most likely. It was what Indy sounded like sometimes, when he was too focused on winning to think about his supposed Southern drawl. It was also what the cop, O’Connor, sounded like.
The men walked away, barely making a sound. Blake watched them for as long as he could. They had a car parked around the corner, because he heard doors open and close, then watched as a red Toyota drove away.
He rose and reached for the keys inside his jacket. He knew he wouldn’t find any evidence of them breaking in. These weren’t amateurs. They’d probably been looking through his files to see if they could find a record of Indy taking lessons. It wasn’t there, because Blake had known better than to register Indy anywhere, even with the false name he’d undoubtedly given him.
A quick check inside confirmed his suspicions. He touched his computer. It was still warm. It was password protected, but that would be child’s play for someone who knew what he was doing. Everything else seemed undisturbed.
As he stepped back outside he heard cars closing in, fast. The cops were here. He raised his arms, figuring he’d better not be mistaken for the robbers. Seconds later, two cop cars pulled up, cops jumping out from both sides with weapons drawn.
“I’m the owner,” Bl
ake called out, keeping his hands clearly visible.
“You have ID on you?” one of the cops shouted.
“Right back pocket, my wallet.”
“Turn around. I need to see you reach for it. Slowly, no sudden movements.”
A minute later, his identity was confirmed. Footsteps ran toward him, and he had a second to brace himself before Aaron threw himself at him. He held him tight. “It’s okay, babe. Nothing happened. My boyfriend,” he explained to the amused cops. It seemed easier than trying to explain the complicated thing between him and Aaron.
“Your boyfriend said you thought someone was breaking in?” one of the cops asked him. Blake increased the pressure on Aaron’s wrist, signaling him to stay quiet.
“I thought I saw a flashlight, but when I checked, no one was here.”
“Did you do a walk-through?” the cop asked.
“Yes, sir. Nothing is missing, nothing disturbed. I don’t have any cash in there, sir, so quite frankly I wouldn’t even know why someone would want to break in.”
“Was the front door locked?”
At least he could answer that truthfully. “Yes, I had to unlock it. I’m sorry for calling you guys.”
“No problem. It’s our job.”
As soon as they had driven off, Blake turned to Aaron. “We need to get to your brother’s house. Now.”
Aaron didn’t ask questions, not until they were in the car. He’d given Blake the address and told him how to get there fastest.
“Blake, what’s going on? I thought you said it was nothing?”
Blake hesitated. Could he trust Aaron with this? He couldn’t keep this from him, not after what they had experienced together. They weren’t together but still. Plus, Aaron would find out anyway if Blake wanted to warn Indy right away. And Josh was Aaron’s brother, for fuck’s sake. “There were three men. They were leaving when I showed up, but I overheard them talking. I think they were looking for Indy.”
“Were they from Boston?” Aaron asked.
Blake looked to his side. “Why do you ask?”
“Because Indy’s real name is Stephan Moreau, and some Boston mobster is looking for him.”
Aaron said it as coolly as if announcing it was gonna rain tomorrow. “How the fuck do you know this?”
“I saw the news yesterday about a Boston DA being murdered. Arson. The news said they suspected a Boston crime family, and they showed pictures of a star witness who had disappeared last year. It was Indy.”
Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “Yes, they were from Boston. That’s why we need to warn Indy. They’re getting close to him.”
Aaron led him to a nice suburban home with a double garage and a for sale sign in the front yard. It was not what Blake had expected. They parked in the driveway and walked up to the front door. Blake checked his watch and winced. Almost four in the morning. Not the best time, but he couldn’t risk waiting. He rung the bell, waited a minute, and when nothing happened, rang it again—long this time.
Finally he heard movement inside and saw a light turning on. It was Josh who opened the door. He looked like he’d thrown on the first piece of clothing he could find, which happened to be a pair of gray sweat pants.
“What the fuck?” he said, obviously sleepy.
“Who is it?” a voice shouted from upstairs. Noah, Blake guessed.
“Professor Kent. And Aaron,” Josh called back.
“We need to come in, Josh,” Blake said. “It’s about Indy.”
Josh's face turned white, but he opened the door to let them in, then closed it quickly behind them. As they stood in the hallway, Noah carefully made his way down, leaning heavily on crutches. Indy followed him, drowning in an oversized bathrobe.
Noah gestured for them to walk into the living room, where Josh turned on the lights. Blake settled in a chair with Aaron on his left, while the other three men took a seat on the couch. Noah was in the middle, Indy curling up to him on his right, and Josh clinging to his hand on the left. Where was the cop?
“Indy, three men broke into my studio tonight. I happened to overhear them when they left, and they were looking for someone. You.” Indy’s face became as white as Josh’s. “They were from Boston,” Blake added softly.
“Do you know who I am?” Indy asked with no trace of a Southern accent.
“Yes. I didn’t find out until a few minutes ago. Aaron saw a news broadcast yesterday where they showed your picture and name.”
Indy’s head sagged sideways, coming to rest on Noah’s shoulder. He kissed the boy on the top of his head, then squeezed Josh's hand.
“Call Connor, Josh. He needs to come home, right now,” Noah said.
Josh nodded, stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen.
“Can we wait till Connor gets home, or does Indy need to leave right now?” Noah asked.
“We can wait. They’re trying to find him through jiujitsu schools.”
In the background Josh finished his call. When he walked back into the living room, his eyes widened slightly as he took in Aaron. Aaron was still dressed in his club outfit, wearing makeup. Josh probably hadn’t noticed before, in the dimly lit hallway, and with all the stress of the situation.
“We went to Flirt,” Aaron said, answering the question that hadn’t been asked. Blake sighed inwardly. Did Aaron realize he’d basically outed him?
“You and Kent?” Josh asked, surprise clearly audible.
“Blake,” Aaron corrected him. “Yes.”
“What’s Flirt?” Indy asked. His eyes had widened slightly when Aaron’s words had sunk in, but other than that he took the news in stride.
“It’s a gay club half an hour north of us. Josh and I went once, but it was too crowded for him,” Noah answered.
Josh lowered himself on the couch again, shooting Noah a look. “We had fun in that bathroom, though.”
Noah grinned. “I showed my prosthesis so we could skip to the front of the line, told everyone I needed Josh's assistance.”
“I did assist you. Very well, I might add,” Josh said with a devious smile.
“Fuck, yeah. One delicious blow job, if I remember correctly.”
Blake blinked. He was not shy about sex himself, but the openness with which these two discussed their sexual encounters was on a whole different level. And all that in front of Indy, who by the looks of it was more amused than anything else. What the hell kind of relationship did these four men have?
Josh's eyes turned to Aaron. They were much like Aaron’s, except more guarded, Blake noticed. His look was cool. “Is Kent fucking you?” he asked.
Blake was taken aback at his abrasiveness. There wasn’t a hint of concern in Josh's voice, as Blake would have expected, just pure anger. What had happened between these two that their relationship was so chilled?
“Josh!” The outrage, unexpectedly, came from Indy.
Josh turned toward him, eyes blazing. “What?”
“Be nice, would you?”
“To him?” Josh indicated Aaron with a gesture that showed his contempt.
Blake turned his head. Aaron cringed, his shoulders stooping low. Blake’s heart stumbled and fell.
“You don’t know what he did.”
Blake’s ears perked up. What was Josh referring to? Aaron sank even lower in his chair.
“I don’t give a fuck. They came in the middle of the night to warn me, so you damn well better show them some civility.”
Indy was clearly not the submissive boy he’d once thought him to be, Blake mused. The kid had a backbone of steel.
“I’m stressed, okay? You know this isn’t easy for me,” Josh fired back at Indy.
Indy jumped up from the couch, fists balled and body tense as hell. “What the fuck, Josh? This is not about you, so get off your fucking PTSD high horse for a minute, would you? They’re after me, you realize that? And they’re close enough to make me deadly afraid… Dammit, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to not run out the door right
now!”
Josh's face crumpled and he got up too, drawing Indy close. At first, the kid resisted, but then he let Josh hug him tight as Noah watched the two with approving eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re right.” He leaned back and kissed him softly on his mouth as Connor stepped into the room, still dressed in his uniform.
“You kissing my man again, kiddo?” he asked.
“I am. He’s such a good kisser, too,” Indy quipped, clearly appeased after Josh’s apology and hug.
Connor’s mouth pulled up, but he disentangled Indy from Josh's arms. “Kiss your own man, this one is mine.”
“That’s not what he said when he sucked me off last night,” Indy offered with a sexy smile.
Blake’s eyes went big, but clearly this wasn’t the huge revelation he’d thought it was.
“Did he now?” Connor said as Josh looked guilty and happy at the same time. Connor drew him in for a slow, deep kiss, apparently not bothered by the fact that he had an audience. “We’ll have to come up with a suitable punishment, then.”
Josh's eyes lit up, and Blake couldn’t hold back a grin. Aaron’s observation had been spot-on.
Connor lowered himself on the couch, parked Josh on his legs and shot Blake a glance. “Start talking.”
Blake took them through the events of the night, making sure to mention each and every detail.
“Can you describe the three men?” Indy asked. His voice was tight, his hand clinging to Noah until the man simply lifted him up and put him on his lap. Apparently, this was a very affectionate household, Blake thought.
“All about the same height. About six feet I’d guess. White. Normal build. Baseball caps, one of them a Red Sox cap. He’s a smoker. They drove a red Toyota with New York plates. The two I heard talking sounded like Connor.”
“Sound familiar?” Connor asked Indy.
He nodded, shivering. “Yeah. Duncan’s hit team. They’re nicknamed Larry, Moe, and Curly. They were with him when he…”