Corruption (13 page)

From the corner of his eye, Lucky watched the group order drinks and then drift toward the back door. Wow. Fast work. “They’re all
yours,” he said, hoping his mic picked up over the blaring music. Asshole Keith better do his job.

Lucky waited a few minutes, set his beer down on a table, and sauntered outside. Flashing lights pulsed from the alley leading to the back. Oh, yeah.
Mission accomplished. Three young women, most likely out for a night of fun, with barely enough goods on them to get them arrested and probably no leads to
any key players. Damn it. While the extra promotion money helped ease the pain, enough with this picking off fleas shit. Time to bring down a top dog or
two.

***

Lucky waited, yet no Bo. He gave up and turned the porch light off at ten o’clock. His phone rang a few minutes later. He stared at
Bo’s name on the screen, heart pounding, and let the gizmo ring. No point in seeming overanxious. On the third ring, he picked up.
“Harrison.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah.” He kept his tone neutral. No way in hell would he let on how much he’d missed the man.
Ignore me, why don’t ‘cha?

“Listen, I’ll be leaving soon.”

The desperation in Bo’s voice softened Lucky’s anger. “And?”

“We didn’t get to spend Christmas together last year, and this year’s not looking too good either.”

Oh. That. What did Bo want him to say?
It’s okay, there’ll be other times?
At the rate they were going, there wouldn’t
be. And it wasn’t okay. For the past ten years, Lucky’d spent Christmas alone, unless staring at his sister through plexiglass while
talking on a phone counted. After listening to her sob about injustice when he’d deserved his place behind bars, he’d warned her away,
not wanting his nephews’ memories of the holidays forever tainted by a no-account uncle. No way in hell would he take Walter up on the offer of
dinner at the Smiths’ either. He wasn’t that much of a loser to accept a pity invite. Truth was, though, Lucky’d gotten
fucking tired of playing martyr, especially after going to Walter (Walter!) to get special permission for Bo’s gift. And Bo
had
to call
and remind him that once again he’d eat a frozen dinner instead of celebrating the holidays with someone else.

“We’re big boys,” Lucky ground out. “We’ll live.”

Bo’s “What are you doing Thursday” caught Lucky off guard.

“Come again?”

“Thursday. What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Christmas is a few weeks away, but I was thinking, if you wanted to…”

“Okay.” No brainer there.

“But you haven’t even heard me out.”

“Does it involve you being here?”

“Yes.”

Hallelujah! “Then the answer is yes.” Tension slowly melted. Bo was coming over. Maybe he’d not written Lucky off yet.

“Do you want turkey or ham? My grandmother used to fix both.”

Turkey and ham? A die-hard vegetarian offered to cook poultry or meat. All Lucky wanted was Bo in his bed. Best not say that right now and ruin the mood.
Ahh… a chance to win some points, maybe. “The Tofurky you cooked for Thanksgiving last year wasn’t too gawdawful. I could
deal with having wish-it-was-turkey again. But why?”

“We’re going to have our own combination of Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ll be there around six. See you then.” Bo
hung up, sounding much happier than at the start of the conversation. Lucky scowled at his duplex, which definitely suffered from inattention. The stove
hadn’t been used since the last time Bo cooked.

Lucky stared at the mound of black and white fur on the couch. “Get up, Lucky. Time to make a plan.”

***

The tree listed to one side. Fishing line and a few nails pinned the eyesore against the wall. As long as Bo didn’t peek behind the monstrosity,
he’d never notice. Hmmm… Too many candy canes on the right side. Lucky rearranged the ornaments and fluffed the branches. The cheap
dollar store baubles made the tree appear pathetic rather than festive. Cat Lucky swatted a stray glittery star. It landed on the floor. So much for
impressing Bo with a home-style Christmas.

A lone package sat beneath the branches, its paper crinkled under far more tape than was necessary. Lucky sucked at wrapping gifts. He’d had
limited practice. Victor had simply paid professionals to gift shop, expertly wrap Lucky’s gifts, and decorate whatever house they spent the
holidays in.

Of course, there was the whole Victor’s brother and sister pretending Lucky was merely a family friend thing, and evasive maneuvers around
Victor’s overly ambitious nephew Stephan. After the first few years, Lucky gave up trying to fit in and went home to his folks at Christmas. Now,
even that choice wasn’t open. What fucking wrong turn had he taken in life to end up unwanted? Oh, yeah. Ex-con. And whether or not Bo wanted
anything more to do with him remained to be seen.

Stop being so fucking gloomy. It’s Christmas, damn it. Sorta.
Lucky stared at what he’d hoped would be a masterpiece of spruce and tinsel. Fucking pathetic. A shower of tinsel fell and splattered. The more
Lucky stared, the uglier the tree grew.
Fuck it.
He tossed the damned thing, ornaments and all, out the back door and drove to the office for the
Christmas cactus Bo kept on the filing cabinet. Hell, it’d worked last year. If it wasn’t broke, why fix it?

A knock sounded on the door a few minutes after he’d set the plant on a brick and arranged its flowery tendrils. Bo had his own key. Why knock?
Lucky answered the door. Bo raised his leg to knock with his foot again, his arms filled with a huge cardboard box. “Let me in, this is
heavy!”

Lucky stepped back and Bo waddled into the kitchen to set the box on the table. The scent of Tofurky and dressing trailed in his wake. Lucky slammed the
door on the cool snap they’d gotten earlier that day. Snow rarely fell in Atlanta, but there’d been some talk on the radio earlier
about falling temperatures.

A whirling dervish spun around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors, setting plates on the table, and popping a pie into the oven. The absence of
a hello kiss didn’t go unnoticed.

“What can I do to help?” Lucky asked.

Bo dashed back to the box and extracted a bottle of wine. “Would you pop my cork, big boy?” he purred in his best decoy rent-boy voice.

Lucky’s mouth went dry. Fuck dinner. Bring on dessert.

Chapter 10

“That was damned good.” Lucky let out a belch and shot a wary glance to Bo, expecting a few harsh words. Hell, a few harsh words would
beat the casual small talk of the last hour. Even the day they’d met, they’d been more relaxed around each other. Bo sat stiffly on the
edge of his chair and barely ate, while Lucky spent his time adding hidden meaning to each sparse word.

Bo’s smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ve missed you,” he said, finally spearing and eating the tiny
piece of pumpkin pie he’d been pushing around his plate for the last five minutes.

Lucky nodded. Words weren’t his friends at times. If he opened his mouth now, sure as shit he’d wind up cramming his foot right in.

Bo carefully folded the paper towel serving as his napkin into a fan shape. “Can we go out into the living room?”

They’d fucked on every last flat surface in the house, and many that weren’t, and now the man
asked
permission
to go to
the living room? Bo topped off their wine glasses for the long, twenty-foot trip.

Once they’d left the kitchen, the odd stress seemed to pass. Bo let out a laugh. “What’s this?” Oh, hell. The
cactus. “Lucky! You remembered. For me?”

“It’s Christmas, or rather Christgiving. It’s a Christmas cactus.” The unspoken
well duh!
didn’t
quite come across the way Lucky intended.

Bo set the wine glasses down on the coffee table and whirled, catching Lucky by surprise. “You can deny it all you want to, but I know good and
damned well you didn’t put the cactus there for you and the cat.”

Cat Lucky sprawled on the couch, head tucked beneath his paws.

Get my back, buddy!
“I…well…”

Words lost their meaning. The press of Bo’s lips erased weeks of loneliness, the gentle insistence of his tongue seeking entrance chased back
every fear. Strong arms drove away the darkness, enfolding Lucky in security. He answered Bo’s silent request with his own arms, his own lips,
his own tongue.

Bo retreated first and gazed down at the floor. “I love you, Lucky. Sometimes I don’t understand you. Sometimes I don’t
believe I ever will and, to be honest, I’ve questioned if constantly fighting your insecurities is worth the effort.”

Oh. Not a kiss hello, but a kiss goodbye. Lucky stepped away, swallowing hard against the boulder lodged in his throat. He deserved this.

Once more the sweet bliss of Bo’s body molded against his, and hot breath washed over his ear. “Damn it, Lucky. You’re worth
every exasperating moment, even if you don’t agree with me. As much as I’d like to push you off a cliff sometimes, I can’t
stop loving you, and believe me, I’ve tried. Well, not the pushing off the cliff, maybe, but the loving you thing. Every single time
you’ve nearly convinced me that you’re an unredeemable asshole, the clouds lift and I get to peek at the good man you try hard not to
be.

“But I’m going away, and while I’m gone, I’d like to think I have someone to come back to. Yeah, we need to sit
down one day and have a long talk about where we’re going, but for now, I think I need things to stay the way they’ve been.”
He withdrew and gave Lucky a tremulous smile. “I have you, you have me, and we’ll cross whatever bridges we meet when we get
there.”

Thank you, dear sweet Lord in Heaven.
Lucky rose on his toes, pouring weeks’ worth of heartache into devouring his lover’s mouth. They might be fucked up and never come
close to normal, but at least they still had each other. Lucky fumbled with the buttons on Bo’s shirt, kissing a pathway down each newly exposed
inch of skin.

He trailed his lips over the pulse point in Bo’s neck.
Please don’t leave me.
A soul-searing kiss declared
I love you.
Lucky’s gentle grip on the back of Bo’s head said,
I won’t let you fall.

He took a nipple into his mouth, rolling the hardening nub against his tongue while tweaking the other with his fingertips.

Down and down he traveled, re-familiarizing himself with a man he’d worried he might never hold again. A throaty half-moan, half-sigh urged him
on, and he eased Bo’s zipper down to reach inside and free the gift underneath the wrapping. He dropped to his knees. With flattened tongue he
lapped a swath up the underside of Bo’s cock, tracing a bulging vein.

The scent of soap, man, and cologne made an intoxicating mix, and Bo’s pre-come carried a slightly herbal taste, as though flavored by the green
tea he drank. Lucky wrapped his lips around the head and slowly worked his way down.

Months of practice had taught him the right pressure and speed to play Bo’s arousal, how to work the uncircumcised flesh to full advantage.
Casual fucks offered release without strings attached, yet nothing beat knowing exactly how to please a man and having the man return the favor. And beyond
the bedroom, they’d learned so much about each other: favorite foods, music…
No, not going there.
Not thinking about commitment now. Like Bo said, we simply need something to cling to in the coming weeks. No need thinking about the future.

He wriggled his fingertips between Bo’s thighs, stroking behind Bo’s balls while he sucked and bobbed. Bo fingers alternately stroked
or applied pressure to Lucky’s scalp, offering instruction on when to take things up a notch.

Bo wriggled his jeans down his hips, backing away long enough to kick off his shoes and step out of the pile of denim. Hands beneath Lucky’s
arms, he tugged, bringing Lucky to his feet. In short order, Bo stripped Lucky of his T-shirt, shoes, and jeans. Without quite knowing how he got there,
Lucky found himself on his back on the floor with Bo’s cock in his mouth. Bo hovered above him, lips counterpointing Lucky’s own
suction.

How in the hell had he existed without this man in his arms? With a bit of maneuvering, he turned, rolled Bo over, and climbed on top. Bo grabbed a leg of
his jeans and dragged his pants across the floor to plunder the pockets. They locked eyes. Not a word was spoken, and they didn’t break eye
contact as Bo opened a packet and rolled latex down Lucky’s shaft. No challenge, no hurt, no questions in his eyes, though he’d proven
his lying skills in O’Donoghue’s class. Lucky’s erection wavered, quickly recovering when Bo took matters in hand. Bo passed
Lucky a tube, and Lucky made short work of opening Bo up.

Lucky gradually sank in on a series of little thrusts, Bo rocking upward while he rocked down. Firm hands on his ass urged him on, along with the warmth of
Bo’s body. Weight braced on his arms, Lucky plunged in and out of sweet heaven, Bo’s erection rubbing against his abs. Nearly perfect,
yet…

Lucky pulled out and Bo gasped. “What?”

“Sh…” Lucky straddled Bo’s body and leaned down to kiss him. “You can’t be comfortable on the
floor. Come to bed.”

They rose and took a few shuffling steps. Lucky halted mid-hallway to pull Bo down for another kiss and a few quick humps against a muscular thigh. They
made their way to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Spreading out in the center of the mattress on his back, Lucky said, “Come
here.”

Bo smiled and took his place over Lucky, guiding Lucky’s still-hard cock back inside of him. Oh, yeah. Heaven. From this angle, Lucky could
stroke both hands up Bo’s torso, pull him down for a kiss, and stroke his stiff cock in time with his up and down pace.

Heart either too full of Bo being here or too empty from him leaving, Lucky almost wished it were him being fucked, Bo’s cock breaching him and
forcing out all thoughts but the present.

Lucky lost himself in the slide of body against body, reaching out his free hand to brush Bo’s arm or leg, skate fingers across his full lips and
touch Bo everywhere, simply because he could.