Authors: Katie Allen
Katie Allen
“Jesus Christ!” Pete pressed back against his mouth. Drawing out, Trevor traced a wet circle around his rear entrance before plunging back in, stabbing in and out like a small, slick cock. When he pulled his head away, Pete groaned in disappointment.
“Turn around,” Trevor told him and Pete obeyed without question. Trevor had to press back a smug grin. Pete didn’t have a problem with getting ordered around as long as a blowjob was forthcoming.
Lowering his head, Trevor dodged the demanding erection and licked at his balls instead. Obviously not in the mood for being teased, Pete seized his head and lined up Trevor’s mouth to the end of his cock. Puckering his lips, he gave the tip a tiny kiss, looking up at Pete.
“If I suck you,” Trevor began, making sure the breath from his words blew right across the wet, sensitive head of his cock, “can I fuck you next time we have privacy?”
Pete’s hands gentled, stroking instead of holding. “You can fuck me anytime you want,” he promised. “In front of a choir of nuns, for all I care.”
Trevor laughed. “When we’re alone will be fine.” Wrapping his lips tightly around the head of Pete’s erection, he licked at the head. The fingers in Trevor’s hair tightened, pulling on the strands, but he liked the slight pain, the addictive feeling of being powerless. Pete moved Trevor’s head up and down, fucking his face with a ruthless rhythm, while Trevor licked and sucked and swallowed, trying to make Pete lose control.
It didn’t take long for Pete’s thrusts to speed up, become uneven. Trevor doubled his efforts, pressing his tongue along the underside and tightening his lips around the head as Pete pulled almost all the way out of his mouth. When he thrust back in, Trevor swallowed, working the tip with his throat muscles.
A rough noise tore from Pete’s throat. “I’m going to come,” he warned. Trevor clung to Pete’s solid thighs and forced the cock another fraction of an inch farther down his throat. With a bit-off shout, Pete spilled into his mouth. Trevor swallowed eagerly, wanting every drop, everything Pete could give him. He continued to suck gently as Pete trembled and panted, holding him in his mouth until Pete slowly pulled free. Tugging Trevor to his feet, Pete wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Trevor’s neck as he recovered. With a shuddering sigh, Pete finally loosened his arms and lifted his head, dropping a lingering kiss on Trevor’s mouth.
“Want to go to bed?” Pete asked when he finally pulled away and adjusted his underwear. Dropping his hand, he twined his fingers through Trevor’s.
“Sure. Think those two’ve finished fucking in the bathroom?” Trevor asked, following Pete out of the kitchen.
Pete shrugged. “If not, they can find their own way to bed.”
Rhodes and Wash were tucked into their sleeping bags, curled together and already asleep.
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“The sleep of the well-fucked,” Trevor whispered, and Pete muffled his laugh. Rhodes opened his eyes and gave them a small smile before shutting them again. Wash didn’t even stir.
Pete climbed into their improvised bed and held the sleeping bag open for Trevor. As he settled onto his side, feeling Pete’s arm wrap over him and pull him tightly against him, Trevor smiled. For a witness hiding out from his murderous father in a house with no furniture in a town with a knife-wielding killer on the loose, he was pretty fucking happy.
* * * * *
“What’s on for today?” Rhodes asked, pouring water into the top of the coffeemaker.
Pete thought about it for a moment. He’d just woken up fifteen minutes earlier, so his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity yet. “Painting?”
Wash turned from where he was flipping pancakes at the stove. “Outside or inside?”
“Inside.” Pete yawned and stretched. “Just upstairs. I want to get those rooms done so we can get some fucking beds.”
“Getting tired of the sleeping bags?” Trevor asked as he came into the kitchen, sneaking in an ass-squeeze as he slipped by Pete and headed for the coffeemaker. “I’m kind of enjoying it.”
“Coffee’s not ready yet,” Rhodes told him. With a melodramatic sigh, Trevor slumped against the counter.
Wash shot him a wicked grin. “It has been kind of fun, hasn’t it?”
His coffee-deprived sulk falling away, Trevor laughed and nodded.
“You need a bigger bathroom,” Rhodes grunted, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Pete snorted. “How about we get you guys a guest bed? That’ll save our bathroom and your,” he waved a hand in their general direction, “whatever body parts you had to contort last night.”
“How long are you staying?” Trevor asked, boosting himself up to sit on the counter right next to the coffeemaker.
With a shrug, Rhodes asked, “How long are
you
staying?”
“The official word is seven months ’til the trial. If he gets off though, guess I’m hiding forever,” Trevor said.
“‘He’ being your father?” Wash clarified, piling a few pancakes onto a plate before pouring more batter into the pan.
“Yeah,” Trevor muttered, kicking his heels against the cupboard door below. “Dear ol’ Dad.”
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“What exactly did you see him do?” Rhodes asked.
There was a pause as Trevor stared off into the space over Pete’s head. He finally answered, “I watched as he killed my boyfriend.”
“Ah, Trev,” Wash said into the stunned silence.
Pete made a move toward Trevor, a jerky motion that stopped in mid-step as Trevor pushed off the counter and headed toward the side door. The screen banged closed behind him and Pete stared at it for a second.
“I should go after him,” Wash said.
Shaking his head, Pete moved to the door. “No. I’ll go.”
Trevor hadn’t gotten very far, just to the newly trimmed tree in the backyard. He’d propped his shoulder against the trunk, his back to Pete.
“Careful,” Trevor told him without turning around. “Bad things happen to people who get involved with me.”
Pete snorted. “Little late for that. Don’t think we could get any more involved.”
Trevor gave a small huff of laughter and some of the stiffness eased from his stance.
“True.”
“I’m sorry, Trev,” Pete told him quietly.
He gave an awkward twitch of his shoulder that was not quite a shrug. Pete took a step closer. “Want to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He took another step, bringing him right up against Trevor’s back. Running his fingers down the other man’s arm, Pete took his hand. “But we’re going to have to pretend to talk out here for a while so Wash thinks you told me. Otherwise, he’s going to drag it out of you once you get inside.”
Trevor gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Oh fuck. You’re right.” He turned his hand and linked his fingers in Pete’s. “He’ll probably do that anyway, even if we stay out here all morning.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true.” Pete was too close to resist. He caught Trevor’s earlobe in his teeth and gave it a tug before releasing it. “And we’ll miss breakfast if we wait too long.”
Trevor shivered. “And if you keep messing around like that, I’m going to start begging you to slam me up against this tree and fuck me, and then we’ll both get arrested.”
“Jesus,” Pete hissed. He snaked an arm around Trevor’s waist and pulled him back against him. “Thanks for putting the idea in my head. Now I’ll never be able to look at this tree the same way.”
“We could slip out here tonight,” Trevor suggested wickedly and Pete’s arm tightened.
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“That sounds…” His words trailed away as a movement at the corner of the house caught his eye. “Stay here,” he commanded, and took off toward where he’d seen the motion.
As he rounded the corner of the house, he saw a small, black-clad figure fly through the yard across the street and disappear into Len’s house.
“Danny?” Trevor asked from right behind him.
Pete turned around. “Did you chase after me?” he asked in a calm voice. Obviously, Trevor didn’t trust his tone. He started backing up. “Yeah.”
“After I told you to stay put?” His voice was positively
silky
now. Trevor’s look of sulky defiance was back, mixed with a touch of excitement. “Yeah.”
Pete struggled to hold onto his anger but a different kind of heat was rising inside him—and that wasn’t the only thing that was rising. He stalked toward Trevor, the surge of adrenaline caused by that second of danger—right before he knew the person watching them was just a kid—changing to arousal.
“Everything okay?” Rhodes rounded the corner with Wash. Pete took a deep breath. “Sure,” he told them. “The neighbor kid was lurking again, that’s all.”
“You two were out here forever,” Wash said, grinning. “Figured we should check to see if you’d finally killed Trev.”
Rhodes gaze flicked down to the bulge at Pete’s crotch. “Don’t think killing was what he planned.”
“Really, Petey?” Wash laughed, his eyes following the path of Rhodes’ gaze. “In the
yard
?”
Pete felt his face heat. “I wasn’t going to actually
do
anything,” he muttered.
“I was,” Trevor said, smirking.
“Watch it,” Pete warned, pointing at him. “I’m still pissed at you.”
Wash shook his head. “Never stays where you put him, does he?”
“No.” Pete glared at Trevor. “How am I supposed to protect you when you keep running into dangerous situations?”
“Dangerous?” Trevor repeated incredulously. “It was the neighbor kid!”
“We didn’t know that.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Trevor met him glare for glare. “Who’s going to protect you if I’m not there when
you
go running into dangerous situations?”
Pete blinked at him, completely baffled. “Protect me?
I’ll
protect me. You’re the one in danger!”
“And you’re the one who’s going to get killed trying to keep me safe,” Trevor argued. “How would I live with that, huh? How do you expect me to just stay where you put me when you could be hurt?”
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Throwing up his hands, Pete turned a frustrated circle. “Because that’s the whole point!” he whisper-shouted, incredibly annoyed but still cognizant of the strong possibility any number of neighbors could be listening. “Why d’you think McDonald asked me to protect you?”
“Because he doesn’t care about anything except his case,” Trevor snapped back, stepping closer so he was chest-to-chest with Pete. “He doesn’t give a flying fuck if you’re shot in the face, as long as I’m alive to testify.”
“Yeah, well, I get his point,” Pete told him. “I’m going to keep you alive. If that means I get shot in the face—nice, by the way—then I get shot in the fucking face.”
The burn in Trevor’s eyes flared. “You fucking asshole,” he hissed, shoving Pete’s shoulders with both hands. Pete grabbed his arms, holding them as the other man struggled in his grip. “You motherfucking asshole.”
“Call me what you want,” Pete said between clenched teeth. “I’m going to protect you.”
“I like your fucking face, okay?” Trevor yelled. “I don’t want you to be shot in the face!”
“What’s all this about getting shot in the face?” Wash muttered to Rhodes. “Does it have to be the face?” Although he heard, Pete ignored the aside, all his attention focused on the man in front of him.
“I’ll be careful, okay?” Pete released his wrists and cupped Trevor’s face, feeling the fine tremors running through him. “We’ll both be safe. We’ll be okay, Trev. I promise.”
Trevor glared at him, his eyes too bright, almost glassy. Pulling the other man toward him, Pete held Trevor’s head against his shoulder. Trevor resisted at first but then softened. “Nothing’ll happen to either of us,” Pete soothed. “It’s okay.”
Gripping handfuls of Pete’s shirt, Trevor muttered, “Fucker.”
Pete gave an amused snort. “Asshole,” he said fondly, rubbing his hands over Trevor’s back.
“Cocksucker.”
Laughing out loud at that, Pete gave Trevor a tight squeeze. “Yes please.”
They held each other for a while until Trevor raised his head. “Where did Rhodes and Wash go?”
“Away from our crazy asses,” Pete guessed.
“Yeah?” Trevor caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparking with a wicked light. “So we’re alone.”
Pete huffed out a laugh. “Sure, except for every neighbor within a three-block radius who are looking out their windows at us.”
“Right,” Trevor sighed. “Paint shop then?”
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“Paint shop,” Pete confirmed, tossing an arm over Trevor’s shoulders as they headed into the house. “Think those two ate all the pancakes?”
* * * * *
Rhodes and Pete ended up making the trek to the home-supply store for paint and supplies while Wash and Trevor stayed home to prep the walls.
“He’ll be fine,” Rhodes told him.
Pete glanced at him in surprise and then focused on the road again, smiling wryly.
“I’m that obvious?”
Rhodes shrugged. “If anything does happen, Trev has a good brain. He’ll figure it out. Plus Wash is there. He may be a smartass but he knows what he’s doing.”
“Yeah.” Pete chewed the inside of his cheek. “My brain knows that but I still…”
“Worry?” Rhodes offered after a silent moment.
“Yeah,” he sighed.
With a snort, Rhodes told him, “Join the club.”
Not able to think about the scary and unrealistic scenarios flooding his mind with what might be happening to Trevor at this very moment, Pete forced himself to change the subject. “Remind me to pick up a lawnmower.”
Rhodes grunted. “So what’re you going to do with this lawnmower after you sell?”
“Sell?”
“Trevor said in his e-mail you’re selling the place once all this is over,” Rhodes reminded him.
Pete frowned. “Right.”
“And all that furniture you’re planning on buying?” Rhodes added.
“Well…” Pete hunted for an answer but came up with nothing.
“You’re never selling that place.”
“No,” Pete admitted. “Probably not.”
“Good,” Rhodes told him. “I like it. Like it even more with furniture.”
Pete shot him a shy grin. “It’s a nice house, isn’t it?”