Clover’s cockhead became a darker shade of pink and bobbed when the boy shifted closer and rubbed it against Boar’s lips. Despite the small space, heat rising in the car and the uncomfortable seat, Boar melted from the excitement of Clover’s closeness. Clover didn’t just ‘agree’ to be with Boar for protection. He craved him.
There wasn’t much time left if Boar was to arrive at his destination far in advance of the agreed time, but he needed to make it count. His eyes trained on Clover’s pale irises, so unlike anyone’s Boar ever met, he rolled out his tongue and pressed it to the underside of Clover’s cock, his throat already aching for its girth. Humming softly, he massaged Clover’s back and raised his head to close his mouth around the cock.
When Clover moaned, his eyelids fluttering, in Boar’s mind he could as well be an angel fallen from heaven just for him. Anyone who knew Clover was aware he was no celestial creature, but hadn’t Lucifer once been an angel too?
Clover had struck Boar as beautiful when they’d first met, but it seemed that with each day, he only bloomed to become more enticing. From the white locks to the unusual eyes and pink parted lips, Boar could suck on Clover’s cock for eternity while staring at his face. Better than meringue filled with Chantilly cream.
He’d come in the shower once as he jerked off imagining Clover watching him with that flirty expression. That boy. He was sex on legs.
With a groan of contentment, Boar squeezed Clover’s balls through the jeans and hollowed his cheeks around the cock, savoring the clean aroma of flesh and how wonderfully it mixed with the saltiness of pre-cum that already dampened his tongue.
Clover’s groan echoed in the emptiness of Boar’s skull as he blindly reached back to stroke Boar’s cock through fabric. The sweet boy cared about Boar’s pleasure even when his life was at stake. How could he know that Boar didn’t need anything in return, content with witnessing the ecstatic expressions Clover made during sex. The boy was so hot that watching him lick fruit juice off his fingers would have been enough to arouse.
Still, Boar pushed his hips against the hand, pulling Clover deeper inside his mouth, licking the cock and sucking up its juices as if it were a lollipop flavored with real strawberries and cream. His breath came out in raspy gasps, but as arousal tipped over inside him, all his thoughts focused on satisfying the wonderful boy who loved him and who wanted to be his. There was always a bit of an issue with getting a dick past Boar’s gag reflex the first time, but once he succeeded, and Clover’s open jeans rubbed against his face, he rolled his hips in triumph.
The boy wasn’t a master of self-control, but Boar liked him this way, all breathless and needy. Clover started rocking his cock into Boar’s mouth with increasing speed, holding onto the car window with one hand and moaning without shame.
“Yes, Boar, just like that,” he whispered, closing his eyes and arching when Boar squeezed his ass.
The steady motion hypnotized Boar into thinking about the sweetness of his partner, and soon enough his thoughts were purged of any worries he’d had. In. And out. In. And out. Clover didn’t hold back anymore, his hips trembling as he approached his release, damp fingers clutching at Boar’s hair and rubbing his face until there was more face fucking than sucking involved.
When Clover came, Boar experienced his orgasm with the entirety of his body, trembling with his boy when hot sperm shot straight into his throat. He gave Clover a few seconds to catch his breath, but his cock throbbed in his jeans for attention.
Boar pushed Clover up enough for the spent cock to pull out of his lips. “You just stay like this, okay? And look at me.” Boar gasped for air when he reached under the arch of thighs and to his own jeans.
Clover’s cheeks were raspberry red. He nodded, still gasping for air when Boar released his own dick from the confines of his pants. The freedom of it only felt good for a moment, because the need to release the built-up tension was too strong, and Boar offered his hand for Clover to lick. The warm, sensuous tongue was like fire against his skin, but as soon as his fingers were damp, he returned them to his dick and started jerking off frantically.
“Once we’re back home, I want to finish myself off while you watch and talk to me.”
Clover bit his lip, his pale hair framing the face of the sweetest kind of predator. “That can be arranged. I could even be riding Pyro’s dick as I do that. Multi-tasking, babe.”
Boar’s balls erupted, and he let out a broken groan, keeping his eyes open by force when that image rolled through his brain, burning away any other sexual fantasy, because they were now obsolete. “Oh, fuck. Yes. He’ll fuck you, and you’ll be telling me all about how it feels.”
Clover didn’t even answer that one, just smiled at Boar and leaned down to kiss him as the last of Boar’s orgasm rolled through his body.
Boar would do anything to keep Clover safe. Anything.
*
The peace Boar had felt after the sex didn’t last long. Ants were back to crawling up his spine by the time he left Clover with the others, and once he ditched his vehicle in the bushes and hiked the last of the way to the old factory, the stress of what they were about to do took hold of him once more. The bright sun laughed into his face as he approached the deserted area and slid in, listening for voices in case it served as a secret teenager haunt/drug den. Graffiti and trash suggested that locals hadn’t completely forgotten about this place, but it was so far from the nearest homes that one might think the old building, with its empty windows and torn cables, was the testament of a long-lost civilization.
Birds sung in nearby trees, and the grass and wildflowers that invaded the area around the large structure were fit for a picnic, but Boar couldn’t allow himself to be spotted, and entered the open doorway. The vast main room still housed some of poultry-processing machinery that had likely been too broken or old to move to another facility, but the scent of dust hung over the entire structure.
Boar took his time assessing which place would provide the best view of the front of the building while offering maximum shelter, and in the end climbed the unsteady stairs all the way to the top floor where a couple of pieces of office furniture piled up by one of the windows would keep him hidden from sight.
Nerves were getting the best of him, so he tried to focus on the task at hand and prepared his rifle, laid out the balaclava, which would obscure the pallor of his face in the shadow, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Even forever couldn’t be this long, yet time stretched into eternity when he thought of what could happen to Clover if they failed. He could be taken and never found. Mistreated, tortured, raped, murdered, his sweet smile gone forever. They had the tracker implanted in him, but it would only get them so far, since someone would eventually notice a raised wound in on Clover’s back and investigate.
Boar’s phone burned in his pocket when he thought about calling the whole thing off. Wasn’t it too risky? What were they thinking? But on the other hand, if Clover chose to take that risk, who was he to argue?
They were his partners, not masters.
His skin crawled when engines roared down the narrow road, and he put the Bluetooth headset in his ear. It crackled as soon as he switched it on, and when Tank’s pickup emerged from between the trees, he heard Pyro’s voice in his ear.
“What’s for lunch?”
It was their code to confirm the identity of the person speaking, and Boar relaxed, following the two vehicles through the scope on his rifle. “Caviar in white wine sauce.”
Drake’s van was right behind them, and Boar’s pulse quickened when he thought of Clover tied up in the back. This time, not for Drake’s pleasure, but under the pretense of being their captive.
Boar hated every second of it and couldn’t wait to use his rifle to get the whole thing over with. Fuck knew what the buyer wanted an albino boy for, but Boar’s stomach twisted at the images his brain provided. Clover wasn’t a lump of flesh. He was a man with hopes, dream
s, ideas, with a sense of humor, and enough heart to love more than one man at once.
“How’s it looking?” Tank asked next, the voice getting clearer as the vehicles passed through the open gate someone blocked in that position with large stones.
“Haven’t seen a soul. We’re clear.”
“The haggling must have convinced them we’re serious,” Drake added.
Both cars parked in front of the abandoned factory, and that was Boar’s cue to anticipate foul play. He kind of hoped the buyer’s men would play dirty. Getting rid of those fuckers would be the highlight of his day.
Pyro ran beyond the borders of the fence surrounding the factory with the gym bag where he kept his explosives on the go. There were large potholes in the low-quality asphalt, so he had no issue covering the bombs with sand and leaves once they were in place. Once he was done, he hooked up, clearly seeking Boar with his gaze. Boar couldn’t let him know where he was, but a glint far off along the road turned his attention back to the job at hand.
“Approaching from the North,” he said when three black cars appeared in the distance, heading toward his crew. He was quick to don his mask and gloves and adjusted his rifle, following the cavalcade through the scope.
With the enemy entering the scene, uncertainty and fear dispersed to the depths of Boar’s mind, leaving sharp focus behind. There were times to worry and times to do something about the reasons for it.
“Dark windshields. My guess—bulletproof glass. Probably armored too,” he said into the headset as he focused on the vehicles, which cut through the wild meadow like a sickle.
“We’re ready,” Tank said, stepping from behind his pickup as the other two joined him.
Boar stayed silent. His heart beat so furiously he sensed pulsing in his gums, but there was no time to focus on discomfort when the enemy cars parked just meters away from Drake’s van.
Tank raised his hand in greeting, as if the traffickers were his old friends.
Boar couldn’t see anyone through the dark glass, but two of the vehicles opened up at the same time, and several men spilled out, weapons not yet drawn but definitely there. Boar could swear he’d seen one or two of their faces before but couldn’t quite place them. Still, he didn’t let it distract him, and he focused on the car in the middle. Its doors opened with a delay, and at the front. Whoever was in the back had reasons to travel with such a big group of armed men. They’d be in the back seat, on the left side, and Boar was ready to take a shot as soon as they stepped out.
Tank’s stance appeared relaxed, casual as if he weren’t in a life-or-death situation. “So, who is the buyer?”
One of the men approached with a suitcase, and Boar heard him through the mic of Tank’s headset. “None of your business. I’ve got the money if you provide the merchandise.”
Drake shook his head. “We’re not providing shit until we know we’re not being robbed by some middle man.”
Good cop, bad cop act then.
Tank gestured at Drake to calm down. “It’s okay. I’m sure we didn’t go through all the trouble of acquiring the boy only to find out we’re not dealing with the source of the contract.”
Suitcase-man snarled loudly enough for the mic to pick it up. “Stop fucking around. The buyer’s in the back. S—They just choose not to show their face. Something you should understand.”
“Fine.” Drake approached the back of the van and pulled Clover out in rough moves that made Boar’s heart ache. But he needed to trust in the plan. Pyro was there too and would surely take matters in his own hands if the situation turned ugly.
Boar couldn’t shoot until they were sure the right person was there. His finger itched on the trigger, but he was stuck waiting for a signal from Tank. Their operations worked best when everyone followed the plan. That was what he needed to remember.
But when Tank raised his gun to Clover’s head, Boar was ready to pull the trigger to end the whole charade. The need to get the firearm away from Clover’s forehead was so visceral it coated Boar’s back with sweat, and seeing the boy writhing helplessly wasn’t helping Boar focus.
“If you’re the buyer,” Tank called out toward the car. “And you want the boy so much, show yourself. We’re done playing games.”
Boar felt his index finger tremble on the trigger when he noticed the mercenaries stiffen, their hands ready to grab whatever weapons they had on them, overpower the small group of three, and try to take Clover without handing over the cash.
But the back door on the left opened, and all heads turned in that directions like soldiers waiting for their general’s orders. Boar’s muscles calcified when the breeze played with long blonde hair that appeared above the roof of the vehicle first. He was startled to see a streak of bright pink in the mane, but when the woman rose and left the limo, his breath became uncomfortably shallow.
Her, he knew without a doubt.
She was dressed in a blue A-line dress, and while she didn’t have the huge German shepherd at her side, it was the same woman they’d let go at Riggs’s safe house.
She hadn’t been a date or potential victim. She was Clover’s buyer.
So many years in this business, yet they’d underestimated her just because she was a neat-looking middle aged lady.
Tank’s shoulders stiffened, but he was stalling with the signal, and it caused so much havoc in Boar that he was ready to rip Tank to pieces when they saw eye to eye again. Boar had her. He could shoot, blast her head open at any moment. Why were they hesitating?
He could make the choice for everyone and deal with Tank’s anger later.
But if Tank, Pyro, and Drake ended up dead because of his insubordinate decision, he’d never forgive himself. And with them being at such disadvantage in terms of numbers, a single headshot wouldn’t make Clover safe either.
“Put down your weapon!” the woman said, her voice nothing like the meek way she’d sounded back in Nevada. “I’m the buyer, your money is in the suitcase. Just give. Him. To. Me!”
Boar chewed on his lip, his eyes passing over Pyro, whose left hand kept opening and closing around the device that would set off the explosives planted by the gate. He was also hesitant about the best course of action. None of them had expected the enemy to arrive in a group so large. His friends were too close to their adversaries to avoid initial blows, and since Clover was bound, he was most at risk.
Boar wanted to hiss out his frustration but decided not to distract his friends and focused all his attention on the enemy, ready to warn his people if there was even the slightest chance of betrayal. If he was particularly successful, fast enough, he could take out three, maybe four people within the first few seconds. His skin tickled with heat that trailed up his neck and bloomed on his face, but he remained steady, focused.
So focused that the quiet squeak behind him, which he’d have otherwise dismissed, was as loud as the screech made by chalk pressed to the blackboard too hard. Boar stopped breathing, unwilling to take his eyes off the dangerous situation below, but when he heard the noise again, just as close and from the same area, he looked back.
The bald man creeping up to him from behind darted toward Boar like a jackal, the large blade in his hand glinting in the sun that streamed inside in slim rays. There was no time to wonder where he’d come from of how he’d found out Boar was here. With the rifle lodged between chairs, Boar had no weapons on hand, so he avoided the slash to his face by rolling away. The guy was fast, as fast as Drake, and climbed on top of Boar before he could have grabbed his handgun. With the huge blade descending toward his throat, Boar grabbed the fucker’s wrists and pushed them back against the superior force of muscle and the man’s own weight.
The sunlight cast a white glow on the twisted features above, reflecting off the man’s even teeth and shining through his right eye as if it were made of glass. Boar wheezed when the tip of the blade steadily lowered despite his efforts to push it back.
Life passed through his head like the images whirl
ing in a kaleidoscope. Church. Happy times with family when he was still their perfect son. First kiss with a boy. First night on a park bench. Pyro pulling him down the street, and smelling of too much liquor. Tank saving his life. Training with the guys. The peace of having a home. Clover telling him he loved him.
Boar’s breath caught, and he clenched his teeth, struggling while the face above became the red image of fury.
“Boar?” came from the headset, and the sound of Pyro’s voice was like an unexpected injection of pure strength. Boar kicked the wall and used its leverage to throw the man off him.
“Trap. It’s a trap,” he said, reaching to the side of his hip. The weight of Boar’s gun was as familiar as the taste of his favorite candy, but before he took off the safety, the mercenary slashed at him again. Boar deflected, ducking and pushing away the knife-wielding hand, but before he could have taken a shot, pain stabbed his thigh and made him look down just in time to see the blade sink into his flesh.
“Fuck! You motherfucker!” Boar yelled at the top of his lungs and shot the man straight in the face.
The impact made the assailant fall back, but Boar wasn’t bleeding any less because of it. In the headset, he heard yelling, the screech of wheels, but he was too far away to see what was going on. He took one glance at the knife in his thigh, decided against ripping it out, and crawled back to the rifle.
He was about to peek through the scope when the walls shook from a sudden explosion and made him fall back, pain spreading through his entire leg. His head was a ball of hot air when he looked at the huge blade stuck in his thigh. He couldn’t afford to take it out so far away from a hospital, and moving could only make the problem it posed worse.
“Guys?” he shouted into the headset, crawling back up to the drumming of gunshots. They all counted on the explosives entrapping the enemy, but hope died in Boar’s heart when he kneeled and saw two of the black cars speeding away in a cloud of dust. Chunks of the road were missing where the bombs had gone off, and while one of the three black limos lay on its roof surrounded by bodies, Clover was nowhere in sight.
Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection Page 25