Read Racing the Moon Online

Authors: Ba Tortuga

Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General, #Romance, #erotic, #Gay/Lesbian

Racing the Moon (8 page)

BOOK: Racing the Moon
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He wanted that. Made his fucking mouth water harder than the chocolate had. Sonny just shook his head, sweat dripping into his eyes as he pulled and pulled.

"Come on, man," he said. "Come on."

"Oh, sweet fuck." MJ's head slammed back, throat working as heat sprayed over his hand. Fuck, yeah. Just like that.

God, that was pretty. Sonny licked a bead of sweat from MJ's cheek, right beside that chocolate- sweet mouth. "Goddamn."

"Uh-huh." MJ nodded, tongue slipping out to wet those lips.

Sonny stared, his own mouth suddenly dry. Lord, the things that mouth made him think. He sighed, easing away. "Better than the chocolate," he said, meeting those eyes for just a minute.

He got a half-grin, a nod. "And the chocolate was worth fighting over."

"God, yes." Sonny swayed a little, blinking. "Man, can you get me and my Twinkies to the couch? I'll share." He figured he could share both. Twinkies and couch.

"I imagine I can do that, yeah." MJ chuckled a little, nodded.

"Cool." He grinned, just feeling oozy and loose. "Thanks, by the way. For the groceries."

"Guy's gotta eat." MJ plopped him down, then settled beside him, head bobbing a little.

He put an arm around MJ, pulling him close, letting the Twinkies drop to his lap. He nuzzled into the hollow between MJ's neck and shoulder. "I'm sleepy as fuck. I'm blaming your pills, 'kay?"

"Uh-huh." MJ yawned, long and wide. "Mine's the shots."

"Yeah." Sonny leaned a little harder, just enough that his lips pressed to MJ's skin, his tongue slipping out to taste. "We're a mess."

"Mmmhmm. Nap. Then food. Chocolate's mine though."

"Uh-huh. I bet it would go good with the bananas." His words slurred, MJ's skin tasting so good. Sonny let his eyes close, let his head get heavy, relaxing.

"Mmm. Bananas." MJ started snoring a little, not bad, just enough.

That would do.

He'd settle for a nap now.

Later he'd wheedle more chocolate out of MJ.

Or fuck it out of him. Whatever came first.

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

His ass was asleep.

Not just tingly and hot, but asleep-asleep.

There was also someone on his shoulder, heavy and hot and drooling -- which surprisingly was less gross than he'd thought it would be, but that could be the chocolate talking.

Man, he wished his ass would wake up.

MJ stretched, the tingling in the base of his spine making him shift and squirm. Oh, wow. Sonny's head made a great noise when it slapped against his bare thigh.

Impressive.

Possibly ow, too.

"Jesus fuck!" Sonny exploded into action, leaping up off the couch, then hollering his damned fool head off as he teetered and fell backwards, shaking the entire foundation of the little guest cottage, making the windows rattle.

That? Was pretty fucking cool.

"You okay man?"

Sonny lay flat on his back, arms spread, looking at the ceiling. "Nope. I think I might be permanently damaged. But I can tell you where to ship my remains, Precious."

"Cool." He stretched out on the couch, trying to convince his ass to return to the land of the living.

"What the fuck did you do that for, anyway?" Sonny sounded only vaguely curious, like it was only polite to ask.

"I didn't. I mean, my ass is asleep, so I stretched. The falling was all you."

Man, he bet that bread would be good with that nut-butter-shit.

A positively evil chuckle broke his thoughts as Sonny rolled over, propping up on his elbows. "You want me to wake it up for you? I can, in about a million ways."

"My ass is off-limits, thank you." He stretched one leg up, flexing a little. "I don't play catcher."

"Why not? You've got an ass made for fucking, Precious." Those dark, dark eyes moved up his legs, right to where they joined. And Sonny stared.

"You should talk. You look like you'd be a sweet fuck, honest." Tight and hot and right - yeah, MJ could see it.

"Hell, no. I've never let anyone do that. Why would I start now?" Grinning, Sonny hoisted up on his hands and knees, crawling over until he could use MJ's thighs as leverage to stand. "I'm good with my mouth, though."

"Never, huh? How do you know you wouldn't like it?" Not like he knew, but Sunshine didn't know that.

"Nope. No way. I'm made to be the fucker, not the fuckee." He got a cheerful grin and a fine view of Sonny's chest, belly, and privates, still exposed by askew shorts, before the man grabbed his box of Twinkies and started limping toward the kitchenette.

Now that might be a fun thing... Find a permanent magic marker and write 'fuckee' across Sonny's chest. Yeah. Yeah, he could go there. "You leave my chocolate alone, dude."

"Yeah, yeah. I want some coffee. Did you get coffee?" Man, he'd never seen anyone so damned happy to scratch his ass, or his balls. Of course as sticky as they both were, maybe it was a necessity. He hoped Sonny washed his hands.

"I did." Dude. Now he needed a shower. A hot one. Because, man, he had hairs sticking together that were
never
meant for that shit.

"Cool. I'll put some on and then go take a little swim. Have you tried the water out there?"

"Not yet. I was, but the whole food-shopping-driving thing happened." And the whole hand-job thing. That led to the napping thing.

"You should come with me." The smell of coffee came, strong and good, as Sonny opened it and started dishing it out. Blue Mountain, or whatever. It was supposed to be good shit.

"Sure." He wandered over to his bag, found a pair of trunks and changed into them before heading to dig through sacks, looking for the last bite of chocolate and a piece of bread.

Sonny got a Twinkie out of the box and sat on one of the little wicker stools to prop up his ankle and look at it. "Hey, I think it looks better."

He peered over, nodded. It did look better, still a little swollen, but not horrible. "Not getting your ass kicked seems to be good for it."

"No shit. And you never kicked my ass, you just made an attempt." Sonny winked. "Should I plastic it? Hey, do you have any duct tape?"

"In the trunk of my car." He frowned suddenly, looking up at Sonny. "Nobody's driving my car, right? It's parked?"

There was some stuff that law enforcement would find... interesting in there.

"Woody would have had to drive it to storage, but yeah, he got us a place in Wilmington, a place where your baby and my Rosie will be safe. Along with all of your other crap." Sonny shrugged. "Do you think that rope would keep a bag on my foot? Or should I just take the wrap off for a bit?"

"I'd just take it off. What do you drive?" Cool. Storage worked. Man, he needed to get online and shit, deal with the damned job. Oh, look. Pastry.

"A '62 Starfire. She's a sweet beast." Another Twinkie wrapper crinkled, Sonny just...fellating it as he swallowed the damn thing nearly whole.

He wasn't sure whether to gag or be impressed.

"Pretty, pretty. I'm fond of my 'stang, have a Firebird on the west coast that I dropped a sleeper engine into. She's fine."

"Yeah? Nice." Licking a bit of cream off his lower lip, Sonny got up, tested the unwrapped ankle. "It'll do as long as you don't knock me around anymore."

"Don't come at me with a needle or a rifle and you should be mostly safe." Pretty much. For now. He had a soft spot for wounded animals.

"Cool." Tucking his cock back into his shorts (and yeah, washing his hands again) Sonny headed on out, leaving the coffee brewing, smelling really good.

MJ got himself a cup of coffee and followed along, face lifted toward the sun. Oh, nice. Warm. Bright. He approved. He got out there just in time to see Sonny strip off the shorts and wade into the water. Nice. He had to approve of that too.

He followed suit, stripping right down to nothing and wading in, moaning a little as the water splashed up onto him. Oh, yes. That was just what the doctor ordered.

"Good, huh?" Wading out a little more, Sonny flipped over on his back and floated, grinning over at him.

"Not bad at all." He smiled and sank into it, riding the waves. God, he did love the beach.

"Mmm." Sonny sounded like a big fucking cat, all purr. Those long arms moved gently, keeping Sonny afloat.

This was the fucking life. This was why he did what he did - protecting the water and the mountains and the sky, so people who loved it could take care of it.

Well, that and the money wasn't bad.

Warm fingers grazed his hip, Sonny grinning as he swam closer.

"Hey. Don't float off. You'd have a bad time limping back." He didn't shiver. He didn't.

"Oh, should I use you as my anchor?" Those fingers curled around his thigh, pulling them closer.

That parted his legs, balls dangling, lapped by the water. "Then we'd both have to find our way back."

"You'll keep me close to shore. You're that kind of guy."

Oh. Oh, damn, Sonny was exploring, slipping down to cup him in one hand.

"You sure you won't get us killed?" He couldn't remember if this was a let-it-all-hang-out place or a protect-your-nuts-at-all-costs place.

"We're pretty private." He got a wet grin. "I made sure of it. Helps when your traveling companion is unconscious."

Bastard. His hand shot out, goosing Sonny's ass good and hard.

"Ooph." Sonny flailed, going under for a moment before popping back up like a bobbing cork. "Man, you're awfully brave, I could've grabbed something sensitive."

"I am fearless, man. It's in the job description." Fearless, dexterous and possibly able to talk his way out of almost anything.

Except being kidnapped by a meth lab loony.

Sonny chuckled, moving back in, clinging like a barnacle. Talk about dexterous. "So how do you get a job like that?"

"It's sort of a volunteer thing. I have clients who find me, let me know what they need, and I let them know if they need me." He had principles.

"Yeah, but..." Sonny turned to float on his belly. "How do you gain those particular skills, Precious?"

"How'd you learn to do what you do?" Asking questions was always easier than answering them.

"Shit, I grew up doing it." Making lazy circles around him, Sonny went on, "My granddaddy was a ridgerunner. My uncles all ran illegal beer and cigarettes. It's in my blood."

"Yeah? Illegal cigarettes like weed?" Illegal cigarettes... Bizarre.

"You really have a skewed idea of what's legal, man. Anything that Uncle Sam doesn't get his taxes on is illegal, and highly sought after..." Splashing him, Sonny laughed and struck out, swimming strongly out into the bay.

MJ chuckled. Legal, illegal -- he sort of avoided that whole issue, if possible. It was sort of... fluid for him.

He didn't follow Sonny, really. He just started moving, letting his muscles stretch and work, making him feel good.

It wouldn't pay to get sloppy. Though really, he could rest a little bit after being beaten and drugged and...yeah. Hell, Sonny still looked like he'd been through the mill, dark bruises standing out on his skin, easily visible in the clear water.

He was still studiously avoiding looking at his own face and throat in the mirror. He'd caught a couple of glimpses before and, damn, he was not winning any beauty contests. It wasn't all vanity either, damn it. People remembered bruises and bloody noses.

"You're gonna drift away with the tide if you keep thinking that hard, Precious. What's up?" God, that man swam like a fucking eel.

"Hmm? I was just looking at your bruises and wondering how mine were doing. I'll have to be healed before I start thinking about taking another job."

"You bruise so well." One dark eyebrow waggled. Asshole.

He slapped some water across, eyes rolling. "Don't make me beat you. Again."

"Oh, like you could." They'd had this discussion about a zillion times, hadn't they? Sonny just kept poking it, though, like a kid with a washed-up jellyfish. "You're something else, MJ, I tell you what."

"So I've been told a few times." Man, what accident of karma threw him into Sonny's path?

"I bet. You probably have this effect on most folks." Sonny flipped to his back again, skin shining. "Though I have to admit, I've never kidnapped anyone before."

"No? You were so good at it; it felt very natural." His hand reached out, slid along Sonny's back almost of its own accord.

"Thanks. I try. My daddy always said you should excel at whatever you do." Humming, Sonny pushed into his touch, all male animal. All happy male animal.

He chuckled, thinking of his own father with his little wire-rim glasses and his closet full of BDUs. Yeah. The man was a fan of excelling.

"I'm sure he's proud. You're rather focused." Psychotically focused.

"You have no idea." He got the hottest damned look before Sonny swam back in toward shore, finally standing and wading out. That same look came again as Sonny glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?"

Man, the comeback for that question was
so
easy.

Too easy.

Vaguely cheesy.

Too bad he couldn't resist.

"That depends; you going to spread pretty for me?"

"Spread what? Mayonnaise? A blanket for a picnic?" That damned satisfied chuckle made him want to crack Sonny's skull.

He snorted, hauling himself out of the water, feet dragging on the sand. "Your legs, Sunshine. That pretty ass."

"Sorry, I'm not on the market. Glad you think it looks good, though." Stopping just inside the door, out of the sun, Sonny waited for him, hooking an arm around him as he got close enough. "Take me back to bed, Precious. I'm pooped."

"Pooped and demanding." Sounded good though. Bed. Pillows. Nappage.

"Hey, don't you know that's why I brought you with me? To fulfill my every whim?" Wet, hot, and damned fine against him, Sonny limped with him into the bedroom, hauling him down on the bed.

"Is that what it was? I thought it was extreme psychosis on your part. It's good to know." He curled right in, worn completely out.

"I got you to get me Twinkies, didn't I?" Sharp as anything, Sonny's chin dug into his collarbone as they snuggled together, one of Sonny's hands landing on his ass. Which was awake now, at least.

BOOK: Racing the Moon
12.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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