This Is a Dark Ride (2 page)

“I’ll heat you some. There’s a few cans up in the cupboard,” Sam said. “That will be easy on your stomach. You can eat some?”

Brody tilted his head up and looked at Sam with solemn eyes. “What I want is some of you.”

Oh, if only that were the truth, although Sam tried to pretend that he believed it was. He kissed Brody roughly, his stubble rasping against Brody’s soft skin, wanting to bruise those ripe, full lips the way they’d once done to him. It seemed like a lifetime since Brody had made him feel desired. Brody grunted into his mouth and pushed back a bit.

“Whoa, easy there, Samson. My stomach is real shaky. Puking on you is pretty much going to kill the mood, isn’t it?”

It had been a long time since Brody had called him Samson. That was the name Sam had used when he was dabbling around in amateur boxing. The name hadn’t meant a whole lot to him. In fact he’d thought it was corny, but when Brody said it, it wasn’t corny at all.

Sam touched him, expecting what he found but still disappointed. Brody was soft. Still, Sam caressed Brody’s cock, not really expecting a response nor getting one. Maybe just the fact that Sam could touch Brody at all should be enough. Sam leaned up, bracing himself on his arm, easing his head down, closer to Brody’s cock. It had been so long since Brody had allowed him to take it in his mouth. Sam loved the way it felt between his lips, the little moans Brody made, and the way Brody tasted.

Brody cupped Sam’s jaw roughly and jerked him back. “It’s not happening.”

“But I just wanted to—”

“I know what you want, Sam. But we both know it’s not happening, so why waste each other’s time?”

“Brody.” It was the only time he had gotten the courage up to make the first move, to try and get Brody excited. He hadn’t expected Brody to just shut him down.

“
Why waste each other’s time
?” Was that what they were doing? Was that what all of this was?

Brody had experimented, he’d lived a wild life, and Sam…well, Sam hadn’t lived much at all. There had been that one clumsy kiss with a girl after a school dance. Sam had awkwardly felt her up and tried to pretend that he was into girls, but she really hadn’t made him feel anything. Then came that disastrous thing with the electrician who had rewired his mother’s basement. RJ had somehow just known girls were not Sam’s thing, and he’d shown Sam exactly what his thing really was.

He tried not to recall the bad things that had happened with him and RJ. He’d tried so hard, for so long that his mind refused to remember things the way they had actually occurred.

RJ had loved him, and Sam had loved RJ. It hadn’t worked out—for whatever reason, it just hadn’t worked. Maybe Sam had been too young. It wasn’t meant to be, and that was it—the end of the story. The rest of it was buried, and it would remain that way.

Things with Brody were supposed to be different. Sam was older, wiser now. He knew who he was, and he knew what he was. He’d been certain the minute that he fell in love with Brody that it was meant to be. Except every day that went by, he felt like his “meant to be” was slipping into oblivion.

He lay back and rested a hand over his eyes. “Why’d you stop, Brody? Why’d you stop needing, caring…stop wanting me?”

“I didn’t. I won’t. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay,” Brody whispered. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Sam closed his eyes as Brody stroked his hair. This tenderness was completely out of character for Brody, and Sam couldn’t allow himself to enjoy it because his mind couldn’t get past Brody’s rejection. His brain played a mantra of
Brody doesn’t want you
over and over in his head.

“My Samson. Maybe you’re getting too strong for me. Maybe we need to cut your hair like in the story about Samson. I liked when you were weak, when you were on your knees for me.”

A lump welled in Sam’s throat. Brody wouldn’t let him be on his knees. Brody didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Sam wasn’t any stronger than he’d ever been. Brody was just weak.
Brody doesn’t want you.

“I’ll take care of you,” Brody said in a voice so sincere that Sam had to believe him. “I’ll get you off, Samson. You know I can, you know how much I love to make you feel good.”

Brody’s hand moved to Sam’s groin, gliding over his belly and beneath the waistband of his underwear. When those cold fingers brushed his cock, an uncontrollable tremor rippled through Sam. He wished he could say no, wished he could turn Brody down like Brody had just done him, to show him what it felt like. Show him how much it hurt. But he could not. The slightest touch of Brody’s hand made any resolve Sam thought he could gather crumble into a million pieces.

“This is why you’re so cranky all the time, isn’t it, Sam? You miss me, don’t you?”

“I miss us,” Sam managed to choke out, his voice strangled by both sadness and arousal. He closed his eyes tighter, savoring Brody’s touch, and for a moment everything was the way he’d once imagined it would be. Brody Redlinger loved him. “Please, can I suck you? Please, Brody?” Just begging Brody out loud like that made Sam more excited, although he was aware that he probably sounded pathetic. He didn’t care. He’d begged for Brody before. When it came to Brody, he was shameless.

No, he wasn’t shameless, not really. He liked that shame, liked showing Brody that he would humiliate himself if that was what Brody wanted.

“No!” Brody’s grip tightened, his strokes lengthened, and his voice softened. “I’ll make it good for you, but my stomach just doesn’t feel right.” He nuzzled Sam’s neck, kissed his way roughly to Sam’s ear, and bit his lobe. Sam wanted to scream.
Don’t stop. Don’t you ever fucking stop.

“You’re going to come for me, Samson. You’re going to show me what a good boy you are, and you’re going to fuck my hand.”

Sam moved his hips faster, desperately in time with Brody’s strokes. Sam was going to come. Nothing was going to stop him now.

“You just give me a little more time to get feeling better, Sam.” Brody’s warm breath brushed against his ear. Goose bumps scattered over Sam’s shoulders, and he shivered. “I can’t wait until I can fuck you again,” Brody murmured.

Sam groaned. Brody.
His Brody
, fucking him again. Beautiful, loving Brody, who gave it to him in exactly the way he’d always wanted.

Before Brody, everyone he’d met had expected him to be something he wasn’t. Because of Sam’s size and his jobs, people looked at him and just expected him to be rough and in control. Physically he could easily top another man, but that wasn’t what he wanted, or needed.

“Let me get some lube,” Brody said, moving his hand away. Sam caught his wrist, unwilling to take the chance that Brody would change his mind or get distracted.

“No, please. I don’t need it. Please, Brody?”

“Let go of my arm then,” Brody said. “Put your hands up over your head and be still.”

Sam balled his hands together as if they were tied at the wrists. Brody moved closer, jerked the covers off, and yanked Sam’s underwear down. The cool air chilled Sam’s naked skin. He squirmed, only a little, but Brody stopped stroking him.

“I said to stay still.”

“I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

Brody fisted Sam’s weeping cock possessively and squeezed real hard, pumping in earnest.

“This is mine.”

“Yes. Yours,” Sam said, biting down on his lower lip.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“I want you to fuck me. I…I need…” Panting, Sam spread his legs wider, raising his heels so they dug into the mattress. He shifted on the bed, body anxious, balls aching. “Harder, Brody, please?” He groaned. “Make it hurt.”

Brody gave a weak laugh in response, but Sam clearly heard the desperation, the hint of sorrow woven through the laughter like dark stains. “I’m tired, Sam. Sick. It doesn’t have to hurt to be good, you know?” He squeezed just a bit harder.

Oh, just like that
. Just hard enough.

Sam couldn’t breathe. The muscles in his belly tensed, and he arched up, desperate for release. Each stroke brought him closer. The friction on his cock grew hot, the skin chafing deliciously at Brody’s rough touch.

The first wave rolled through him like a locomotive. One spurt, two spurts, his body vibrated with each spasm. So long… It had been so long. He was unable to keep his eyes open. Sam let his breath out in a long moan. He reached down, wanting a handful of Brody’s hair. Brody was gone. He ran from the room. Sam opened his eyes. The last twinges of his orgasm lingered. His cock still twitched, and he finished using his own hand. As the last few trickles of his release oozed onto his belly, he could hear Brody dry heaving in the bathroom.

Sam stared at the ceiling, his own cum rapidly cooling on his stomach. He didn’t feel any real satisfaction from the orgasm. If anything he just felt emptier. There was a time when he had felt a closeness to Brody that was so real, so intense, that it consumed him. Now the only things that consumed him were worry and doubt.

The alarm clock on the night table began beeping, and Sam sighed as he switched it off. It was time for him to get ready for work. The foreman didn’t seem to like him very much, and the last thing he needed was to be late.

Brody walked back from the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulder. His face was deathly pale, and he wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m really sorry, Sam. My stomach’s been bothering me most of the day. I was lying on the bed all day just trying not to move, and it felt like I was on a boat, like the whole room was moving. I guess we’ll never be able to join the yacht club. I’d be puking all the time.” He gave a weak smile.

Brody sat on the edge of the bed and began wiping Sam’s belly clean with the towel. It was an unexpected act, and Sam’s eyes watered. He wished Brody would lie back down with him, wished Brody would hold him and tell him he loved him.

“You sure made a mess,” Brody said, making Sam feel like a clumsy kid who’d spilled grape juice on the new carpet. “I don’t think you have time to shower now, do you?”

Sam turned his head quickly to hide his unshed tears and pretended to look at the clock. Numb, he reached for his long-sleeve thermal underwear shirt. Judging from the way it was snowing out, it was going to be a cold night at work.

“No, but it’s okay. It was worth it.” He was lying, and he did not look back at Brody. Instead he focused his blurry gaze on Krieger’s sad face in the window and suddenly felt even sorrier for the cat than he had before. Krieger was Brody’s—he shouldn’t be out in the cold. Sam wished he had never complained about Brody feeding him. It didn’t matter who went to work or paid the rent. This was Brody’s house.

“Thank you,” Sam said, closing his eyes.

“For what?”

“For letting me be…yours.”

“Sam…you know I…”

Love you. Please, just fucking say it, Brody!
All this shit they were going through, he could feel so much more at peace inside if Brody would only say it.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sam,” Brody said solemnly.

Yeah. Sam didn’t know what Brody would do either, aside from never eat, get high, and fuck random strangers. “
I don’t know what I’d do without you
” hardly seemed like a substitute for
I love you.

Sam stood and pulled his dirty jeans on. He’d worn them yesterday, but they were probably the cleanest pair he had right now. He did find a fresh pair of socks, and he laced his heavy work boots onto his already aching feet. Finally he put on his tattered and stained work coat. Last winter he’d saved up to buy a new one, but Brody had taken the money. Taken the money and shot it all up.

Sam tried to forget about that too. He’d told Brody he’d forgiven him, but sometimes Sam wondered if he really had. At least Sam had a coat. It wasn’t a good coat, it wasn’t a new coat, but at least he had one. His mind drifted back to the girl up on the corner while he zipped it up.

If he stopped, on a night like this when it was snowing and cold, maybe she’d go for a ride with him. At least if she was in the car he’d know she was safe and warm.

He was seriously losing it, thinking about blowing off work to drive around with some girl. He needed to stop this dumb shit now, needed to get back to concentrating on how to make sure things were right between him and Brody.

What the hell was he doing? Feeling sorry for himself because Brody wouldn’t say
I love you?
It wasn’t like that was anything new. Brody had never said it. They’d even had discussions about it, discussions where Brody had made it very clear that he’d never said those words to anyone other than his mother, and that if he ever did say them, they wouldn’t just be words that were thrown out there; he would mean them—forever.

Sam glanced over at Brody. His sallow skin and hollow eyes tugged at Sam’s heart. Brody was trying. He was trying to get clean and stay that way, and Sam knew he was the only reason Brody was even making an attempt. It wasn’t easy for Brody, and Sam knew it. He could at least help by being supportive and stop being such an insecure, immature asshole.

“I love you,” Sam said. There seemed no point in waiting or listening for a response that wasn’t going to come, so Sam opened the window and let Krieger in.

Chapter Two

Outside, the wind picked up. It whistled through the street, down the side of the building, sweeping through the alley. Thin plastic film stapled over the bathroom window frame moved in and out as if it was breathing. Cold air poured in around the sides.

Angel shoved her lipstick tube back into the cheap plastic pouch that contained her makeup, shivering as the draft crossed her bare back. She switched on her little hair dryer. The warm air was a welcome comfort. She let it blow across her shoulders, enjoying the heat. Thank God the electric was still on. For days she’d been expecting things to go dark, but it hadn’t been shut off yet.

Maybe the building manager was concerned the pipes would freeze, or someone at the electric company had screwed up, but for whatever reason luck was on her side. Not only was the power on, but she’d saved almost six hundred dollars since she’d started staying here. Hopefully by tomorrow she’d have enough for a security deposit and first month’s rent, so she could live in one of the units here on the up-and-up instead of squatting in an empty.