Racing the Moon (12 page)

He might have started babbling, started groaning and making promises and shit. He didn't know. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that mouth on him. Sonny gave it to him, too, putting extra oomph into it, sucking him until he thought his brains might leak out his ears. His balls drew up tight-tight, hips pushing furiously, fucking Sonny's mouth in deep, quick bursts.

"Mmmhmm." The sound vibrated around him, went right up his spine as Sonny gripped his ass, Sonny's thumbs spreading his cheeks, pushing his hole.

He pushed back against that touch, jerking as he was stretched, come just pouring out of him in a rush.

The mouth. God, that mouth. Sonny just took it all, licked him clean, this long, happy growl making his skin tingle.

"Mmm..." He rippled, happy little sounds pulled right out of him.

He finally slipped out of Sonny's mouth, settling back against Sonny's waist. "Oh, that was way better than watching you pace, MJ," Sonny said, grinning up at him.

He rubbed his fingers against those lips, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, your mouth is something."

"I'm a little oral, you know?" Nipping the pads of his fingers, Sonny grinned. "So, you jumping ship?"

He was surprised into telling the truth. "In a couple hours, yeah."

"Yeah. You looked like you were gonna go over the side." Giving him a casual shove, Sonny got up and went to get a beer out of the mini-fridge. "Asshole."

"Just a working man." He settled, just watching for a minute. Man, he'd spent six weeks fucking this man and Sonny didn't even know his real name. Fucking bizarre, how life worked.

Guzzling the beer, Sonny wandered back over, handing him one, too. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Same here. Shit, I just been enjoying the time off, is all."

"Yeah. Me, too. I'm thinking this next paycheck could buy a lot of time off."

"It could." Shit. Cold. Asshole pressed that beer bottle right to his belly, making him yelp. "I was thinking of selling out my interest to Woody."

"Yeah? You and Woody a thing?" Not that he was jealous.

"We used to be." The shrug didn't have that elaborate casualness that Sonny gave MJ when he was lying. "He said I was too combative."

"You? Combative?" He snorted, trying to figure out if they had time for him to make Sonny scream before the boat came. "You're a pussycat."

"Oh, sure I am. Real sweet. Kind to my aging grandma, good to my parakeet. Problem is, I tend to order Woody around, and he can handle that as a partner, not as a lover." He got a wink and a grin, Sonny giving him a hops-y kiss.

"You have a parakeet? For real?" He smiled into the kiss, sucking Sonny's bottom lip. That was somehow extremely cool.

"I do. I've got finches, too. I have this little Vietnamese lady who feeds them." Sonny rolled them, his beer bottle bouncing away, spewing foam.

"You'll have to show me. I want to see your life." The kiss got a little desperate, a little sharp around the edges.

Sonny's cock prodded his hip, one heavy thigh spreading both of his so Sonny could rub on him. "You will, Precious. If you're not back to me when I think you should be? I'm coming for you. Remember that."

"I'll count on it." His hand found Sonny's hip, started rocking them together.

"Uh-huh. Yeah." One hand cupped the back of his neck, the other his ass. "Harder."

"Uh-huh." He squeezed, moaning into Sonny's mouth. Yeah. More.

"Yes. Please." That cock left a wet trail on his skin, Sonny starting to sweat, skin beading up.

"You want me?" Willing? One more time?

"I do. Yeah. Fuck, yes." Sonny kissed him, leaving his lips burning, tingling.

He nodded, spread himself until his thighs burned. "Nobody else."

"Good. Where the hell did we leave the..." Sonny reached beside the bunk, scrabbled through a little drawer that had a latch.

"Don't tell me you lost it." He leaned up, started licking and nipping whatever skin he could find.

"No, I know it's...ha. There it is." Sonny came back with a condom and lube just about the time his lips wrapped around one nipple. "Fuck!"

"Mmmhmm." Good and hard, so he could feel it tomorrow.

The condom landed on his chest, Sonny using both hands to get the lube open, moving back to push two fingers right into him, no waiting, no easing into it. He managed to get the condom open, hips moving, riding that touch.

"Gonna make you feel it, MJ. Feel me."

He was already feeling it, his nerve endings firing as Sonny found the little gland inside him and touched it.

He nodded, moaning. "Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine. Want you."

"Soon. Get you open. Ready." Sonny's cock bobbed for him, red, wet, so good. They smelled good.

He got the rubber slid down over Sonny's prick, fingers working the shaft.

"God. Can't wait. Can't." Pulling free, Sonny slicked his cock up, slapping MJ's hand away, pushing right up against his hole.

It ached, burned so fucking good all the way down to his balls. "Sonny. Fuck."

"That's the plan, Precious." That thick cock stretched him, Sonny's chest heaving above him, those eyes never leaving his.

He stared back, just watching, hips moving in desperate little circles. Going to fucking remember this.

Lip sucked in between his teeth, Sonny rode MJ hard, pushing in and out, hips smacking against him. He could see every flex and draw of muscle, could see the pulse beating in Sonny's throat.

Beautiful. He rolled into each thrust, toes curling tight, one hand reaching for Sonny.

Hot, hot skin, damp with sweat, met his touch, Sonny arching into it, panting and cussing. "Fuck. More, MJ. More. Goddamn."

"Yes. So fine." He got hold of Sonny's nipples, twisted, tugged.

"Shit! MJ..." The moan came long, loud, more of a growl, and Sonny just went crazy. Those hips lost all rhythm, all finesse, Sonny driving into him, jerking, finally shaking. And yeah. Kinda screaming as he came.

Sexy bastard.

He leaned forward, head on Sonny's shoulder.

Sonny stroked him, ran his fingers through MJ's hair. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Fuck, yes. I think I might die happy." That soft chuckle stirred his hair, but there was nothing in it but...damn.

"I'll be back in six weeks. Looking for you."

"I'll be there, Precious," Sonny said, rubbing his back, pulling him up for a kiss. "Waiting."

"Yeah." He nodded. "You'd better be."

He sighed, tried to ignore the ticking of his watch. Yeah, the man'd better be.

Chapter Eleven

"Hi, honey! I'm home!" Sonny called out, knowing Woody was at the little house in Wilmington, waiting for him. He'd seen the man's car out there, a dark blue Chevy Impala jacked to Jesus with improvements.

"Sonny! Jesus, man, I was thinking you were gone for good."

Woody came bounding up as Sonny dropped his duffel on the floor, grinning, his light blue eyes shining. Woody enveloped Sonny in a tight-tight hug before pulling back to look at him. And planting a wet kiss on his mouth.

Pulling back, hands on Woody's chest, Sonny stared at the man. "What the fuck was that for?"

"What? I missed you, man."

"Well, we haven't been that kind of friendly in years." Vaguely uncomfortable, Sonny backed off even more. "You find a new spot for the operation?"

"I have a few in mind. Want you to come look at them."

"I trust you, man." He really didn't want to break it to Woody his first day back, but the idea of selling out his interest in the business had more and more appeal. Hell, he might just become a man of leisure, let MJ support him. The thought made him grin, feeling all evil and shit.

"What's that about?" Woody asked.

"What? Oh, I was just thinking about someone. So how are my birds?" He really did have birds.

"Hell if I know. Mrs. Tho is still cashing her checks."

He'd have to go see Mrs. Tho in Raleigh, visit his place. Maybe close it up. He'd hate to have to get rid of his birds, but lord knew he never saw them anymore. Mrs. Tho would probably take them without pay, or at least take them if he gave her a nice lump sum. She liked them a lot.

"Earth to Sonny."

"Huh?" He looked up to find Woody watching him with the weirdest expression. Sonny stretched. "Sorry, man, still in vacation mode."

"No kidding. Look at you, all brown and shit. Where were you again?" Woody grabbed his duffel up off the floor and took it to the little bedroom for him, kinda...pacing. Flitting from place to place. It was weird as hell.

"Jamaica. Woody, are you okay?"

"No. You've been gone too long, and I sold the shipment, and you know, I just..." Woody trailed off, grinning a little, looking more like him. "Sorry, man, I'm not used to going it alone. Need you here to order me around."

Okay, that made him all restless. Maybe now wasn't the time to tell Woody his plans. "Yeah, well, you're better than you think. So tell me how much we got."

They got down to business, Sonny pushing the desire to just go out and stare at the beach aside. No wondering where MJ was right now. Six weeks. He just had to wait six weeks.

He could do that.

He surely could.

***

The store door still sounded the same, a jingle and a tinkle that his mom called fairy bells before the wave of patchouli and sandalwood smacked him, made his eyes water. Christ, Mom must be toking. Good thing any asshole who wanted herbs, crystals, and candles to stick in your ears was probably mary jane friendly, or she’d be fucked.

“You here?”

“Baby boy? Is it you? It
is
! Lord and lady above, I thought you couldn’t stop.” MJ grinned at his mom – stick-thin and grey, stoned eyes just staring out at him like he was a vision.

“I wasn’t sure I could, but I had an hour or two. How’s Dad?”

She shrugged, smile a little sad. “The same. You still working hard?”

They had the nicest little agreement going. She pretended that his money was conjured up in Druidic rituals; he pretended that Dad’s mind hadn’t disappeared from the Alzheimer's eight years ago and that the man was sitting at home instead of in a home.

“I’m considering retirement, Ma. That’s one reason I stopped. There’s a chance I’ll be out of pocket for a while.” A long while, possibly. The more he thought about it, the better the visual of Sonny and a boat and the open sea sounded. Just sex and sea and open sky.

“Yeah? You don’t think you’d come back here?”

”No, Ma. I’m thinking overseas for a while. Don’t worry. You know me. I’ll always be in touch and your account… Well, I’ll take care of it.” He reached out, cupped her cheek in his hand. “You look tired, Ma. You need to lay off the weed for a while. Let your body recover.”

She gave him a smile, quick and lively and familiar to his bones. “And you need to find a good man to give you a reason to make a home.”

Right. Well. Somehow he didn’t think his mom would quite understand his meth-dealing, whiskey-soaked, hunting-and-fishing redneck hang-up. “Yeah, Ma. I do.”

As soon as he filled up the ‘stang, bought some C-4 and some hollow-tips and went to make sure that oil rig never left dock.

He was all about reasons.

***

In ten years of doing what he did, whenever that tingle happened in the back of his neck, he knew he was fucked.

Not in trouble. Not in a bind. Not about to fight with a crazy, gun-toting asshole in North Carolina.

Fucked.

Like bent over a rusty pickup tailgate with a bunch of drooling frat boys punching your ass without lube fucked.

He’d felt it about ten minutes after the charges blew, his ‘stang buzzing down the highway like a junior varsity cheerleader on her first red. He’d seen that truck before.

Seen it three times, in fact.

Seen the gap-toothed Neanderthal driving, too, in the parking lot of a Subway two days ago, eating a spicy Italian and pretending to read a three-day old USA Today.

Goddamn it.

He pulled off the highway, headed away from the blast, knowing that the cops would already be buzzing and whirring, trying to look important for the cameras, so he could push the speed some. The damned blue truck exited, too, coming closer, close enough that he could hear the rumble of the diesel over the sound of the radio.

Shit. Okay, come on. What do you know about Seattle? What do you know about it? Come on, MJ. Think.

He peeled around a corner, heading toward the darkness, toward fewer people and fewer…

Goddamn.

The asshole in the truck gunned the engine, clipping his rear left bumper and sending him fishtailing. He squeezed the steering wheel, trying to go with it, let himself work with the skid and keep the ‘stang barreling forward.

Another slam and he heard something in the back end crunch and grind. Fuck him. He slammed around a corner, worry turning to ice-cold fury tinged with fear. The road opened up and he took a deep breath. He could do this. He could make it.

MJ gunned it, hurtling along the street. He’d have been fine, too, if not for the car that squealed into the intersection, stopping right there, the driver bailing and running as his tires left skid-marks. Right there where all he could do was brace himself.

Brace himself and pray.

***

So. Six weeks had come and gone. Then eight. Too damned many. No word from MJ.

Fucking bastard. Fucking goddamned son of a bitch asshole. Sonny had been good. He hadn't tried to call. He'd handled his birds. He'd dealt with setting up a new shop for Woody, one the guy could carry on without him. He'd gotten cars fixed up and looked into boats and now MJ was...what? Standing him up? Deciding he was better off without his own personal redneck?

No way. No
way
. Sonny did the dumping if there was dumping to do, and he wasn't ready to be shed of MJ yet. Far from it.

"I'll just have to track the bastard down and kidnap him again," he muttered, stuffing a pair of jeans in his rucksack.

"Huh?" Woody asked, wandering in, blue eyes a little cloudy with sleep. Sonny grinned fondly. Man still looked best when he woke up in the morning, sandy hair all floppy and eyes like a summer sky.