Diversion 2 - Collusion (7 page)

“Sit,” Bo commanded, pointing to the bed.
Oh, so rookie boy wants to call the shots?
Maybe not all the time, but tonight Lucky’d turn over the reins. He relaxed onto the bed, keeping an open mind about where the night might lead.
Bo lit two candles and turned out the overhead light. Next, he flipped through a few CDs and picked one to slide into a player that doubled as the bedside clock.
An electronic dance mix started and Bo turned around, suddenly transformed into someone far more self-assured and even a bit cocky. The blood rushed from Lucky’s brain for a vacation south of the beltline.
Bo flexed and strutted to the beat, not the timid “Hey! I’m moving my hips!” dancing of the insecure, but a bumping, grinding, vertical sex scene for one. He humped the air, lips set in a thin line and a smoldering gleam in his eyes. His normally mild mannered persona slipped to the floor along with an apron.
In perfect time with the pulsing beat, he slowly opened his shirt. One button at a time, Bo flaunted glimpses of skin before covering them up again. When the shirt fluttered to the floor, Lucky barely contained a shout, “Yeah, baby, take it all off.”
Bo fumbled with his belt buckle and flashed Lucky a smile of pure seduction, while unfastening and slowly pulling the woven strip from each loop. The belt joined the shirt and apron. He swiveled his hips in exaggerated fashion, slowly rotating to give Lucky an unobstructed view of his ass.
As Bo’s firm cheeks bounced and wriggled, he lowered his pants, twin globes peeking over the waistband. Lower and lower, inch by inch, Bo revealed his stunning bubble-butt.
Hello, there, boys! Did you miss me?
Lucky reached down, palming his cock through the denim of his jeans. How long was this damned song? Shouldn’t Bo be naked by now?
The world’s longest remix played on, Bo teasing Lucky to the point of pain. He let the pants fall and kicked them out of the way. The dance continued, his hip thrusts more suggestive, more primal. Bo’s runner’s build wasn’t as bulky as some dancers Lucky’d watched over the years, but damn if he didn’t have the moves down.
“I stripped some in college to make a few extra bucks,” Bo said, beginning to pant. He ran his hands up and over his sweatslicked chest. “Guys used to shove dollar bills in my thong.” He reached down, caressing his cock, now tenting out the thin cotton of his boxers. He dropped to his knees and pumped his hips, mimicking plunging into a lover.
“Ever go home with any of them?” Lucky’s groin ached for a hand, a mouth, or any other willing orifice. He rubbed himself harder.
“On occasion.” Bo’s eyes met Lucky’s. “Never for money. Some of the other guys did, but dancing got me hot.”
Sweat gleamed on Bo’s skin in the candlelight, and he moaned, releasing himself suddenly. He gave Lucky a sheepish smile. “Got a little too close to coming, there.”
Music apparently forgotten, he crawled forward on his hands and knees and buried his face in Lucky’s crotch to mouth Lucky’s erection through denim.
Quiet, unassuming Bo, half naked, surrounded by faceless strangers, all wanting him for the night. Some had him, some never would. Tonight he was all Lucky’s. Lucky’s hell cat.
Wait a damn minute! Mine?
Bo unzipped Lucky’s jeans and Lucky’s brain fuzzed out. He fell back on the bed, letting his own personal stripper take control. Jeans and boxers around his knees, Lucky watched his cock disappear into Bo’s wide-open mouth. Oh sweet mercy!
Hot, tight pressure, slipsliding over Lucky’s cock. Not hot enough, not tight enough, not fast enough.
Oh please, suck me harder!
Bo ran his tongue up and down Lucky’s shaft in slow motion. That fantastic mouth withdrew and Lucky stifled a whimper. Bo made short work of shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers. Lucky recovered enough brain cells to strip off his own shirt— halfway. Bo took over from there.
The music changed from hard and driving to a slower one-two rhythm. Bo pulled open a drawer on the bedside table. “You asked me what I like,” he said. “Let me show you.”

Lucky expected condoms and lube, but not the oblong box Bo removed from the drawer. Avoiding Lucky’s eyes, Bo opened the box. A flesh-tone rubber phallus lay inside, about seven inches long.

Lucky seized the base of his cock, fighting back the sudden jolt of arousal. Holy shit! That dildo, sliding in and out of Bo. Fuck! What an image.

He started to speak, but Bo flinched.
Shutting up now
. The snarkmaster shouldn’t say a damned thing. Lord knew what Bo expected, and yeah, not so long ago, he would have been right. The man was taking a big chance with his toy and Lucky’s absence of a brain-to-mouth filter.

Lucky weighed several possible responses, settling for, “You want me to use this on you?”
Bo nodded.

Holy shit! I’m asleep and dreaming my favorite fantasy.
Mouth suddenly dry, Lucky managed to get out, “Lie down.”
He moved over, allowing Bo to stretch out on the bed. Bo’s erection faded, and the poor guy still wouldn’t meet Lucky’s eyes. Lucky bent down and kissed him, taking the box from his hand and placing it aside. “I’m gonna make it good for you,” he promised.
Flickering candlelight played over Bo’s sheened muscles. Lucky wrapped one hand around the base of Bo’s cock and worked the foreskin up and down the shaft. Faster and faster he went while Bo moaned and squirmed. “Stop!” Bo cried, “I’m too close.”
Lucky released his hold and nudged Bo’s legs apart to settle between. He squirted lube onto his fingers and massaged Bo’s opening, pressing harder and harder until the tips of two digits popped inside. In, out, in,out, add more lubrication, in, out…
He paused long enough to fumble the dildo out of the box, slick the sides, and line the bulbous head up with Bo’s hole. Bo emitted a long, low hiss as the rubber breached his body.
“That is so fucking hot,” Lucky murmured. He held his breath, watching Bo’s pucker stretch to allow the intrusion.
That’s how he looks when my cock’s in there.
Lucky shuddered. If he gave in to temptation, he’d toss the dildo onto the floor, crawl on top of the man, and mindlessly pump to completion. But this wasn’t about Lucky. This was Bo’s fantasy. With the fake cock seated as far as Lucky dared, he slowly pulled it back until only the head remained inside, then slipped it out completely. Bo’s ring quickly contracted. Lucky reinserted the toy, thrusting more forcefully.
“Oh, hell yeah,” Bo moaned.
Faster and harder Lucky stroked, glancing up at Bo’s blissful face. Knees spread wide, Bo rocked on the bed, urging Lucky on. “Suck me!”
Lucky wrapped his lips around Bo’s cock, bobbing in time with the rhythm of his thrusts.
“Oh God, oh God!” Bo chanted.
Lucky pulled off, replacing his mouth with his hand to watch Bo’s face.
Eyes unfocused, Bo convulsed, barely human sounds emerging from his throat. Lucky desperately wanted to jerk the dildo out and fill Bo’s body, but waited. A jet of white shot from Bo’s cock and Bo grabbed Lucky’s hand, forcing a tighter grasp. Come spattered his chest.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Lucky chanted. He removed the toy and flopped onto his back, one hand racing along his cock, the other gripping beneath his balls. Seismic charges detonated, shock waves pulsing outward from his groin.
At some point Bo moved, for Lucky came to himself plastered to the man’s chest, wheezing out shaky breaths. “That was…that was…”
“Fucking amazing,” Bo finished for him.
Lucky floated in a contented haze and woke much later to full darkness, his head on Bo’s chest. The scent of sex sent a meager shudder through his cock, egged on by the aroma of lube, latex, and Bo. He nudged Bo’s hip. Bo muttered something that might have been, “Don’t even think about it.” Lucky drifted off with a smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” Lucky stood in the doorway of Bo’s kitchen. Had he slept through a party? Except for a few dishes soaking overnight, they’d left the room nearly clean. Now, a few hours later, the place appeared trashed. Potato peelings lay mounded in the sink, pots of boiling water sat on the stove, and Bo dashed about the tiny space, stirring, slicing, tasting. Something mouthwatering scented the air, along with the rich aroma of coffee from Bo’s tiny little one cup at a time machine.

“Did you forget? The office picnic is today.” He shrugged, one side of his mouth lifting and bringing out a brief appearance of The Dimple. “I’d planned to make potato salad and baked beans last night, but got distracted.” He shuffled over to the coffeemaker and wrapped Lucky in a quick one-armed hug while passing over the brew. “What are you bringing?” Something
dinged
, and Bo dashed back to the stove.

Lucky vaguely remembered a memo. And an email. And a few flyers posted. And Bo’s recent reminder. He’d ignored the random department get-togethers for eight years. He spent enough time with coworkers already, why volunteer to give up free time to spend more? “Actually, I’m not going.”

Why not?
Let me count the ways.
“Bo, they don’t like me, I don’t like them, why spend more time with them than I already do?”

“Has it occurred to you that if you
did
spend more time together ya’ll might like each other more?”
Ah, the young and naïve. “And what if more time winds up meaning we like each other less, huh?” Lucky sipped his coffee. Wait! Bo planned to go to the picnic, Lucky didn’t. Lucky’d also planned to spend the day together. What would it take to get Bo to blow off the picnic for some one-on-one time, sans nosy coworkers? “Why don’t you pack all that stuff away and let’s go somewhere else instead?”
“I can’t. I promised I’d be there and bring food.”
“You can always drop off the dishes and come back home. I’ll make it worth your while.” Lucky waggled his brows. Bo liked cute. If cute headed off an argument, Lucky would give it a try.
“Why? You might not like social functions, but I do. I like people, Lucky. I’m curious about them. I want to meet Lisa’s husband and new baby. I want to swap war stories with Art. He served in Afghanistan, too.”
Art, Lucky knew, but, “Who’s Lisa?”
Bo gave Lucky an “I know you didn’t ask me that” glower. “The receptionist you walk past every morning to get to your desk.”
“She had a baby?” She had put on a bit of weight there for a while, hadn’t she? But…babies? Lucky shuddered. They screamed and cried for no apparent reason, pooped and barfed on you. Charlotte had once handed him a squirming bundle named Todd. He’d taken in the tiny little nose and mouth, marveled at the miniature fingers closing around his. Then the bundle screamed. He’d handed the bundle back.
“You didn’t get her a gift, did you?” Bo’s pursed lips didn’t bode well for evading arguments.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s the nice thing to do.”
“I don’t do nice.”
“Obviously not. Anyway, why won’t you come hang out with me? You’ll have fun, I promise. I’m in charge of the face painting. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the kiddies. And we’re coworkers. I promise no one will think anything of seeing us talking. Beside, there’ll be horseshoes and Frisbee. Accounting and logistics are planning a grudge match tug of war.”
The entire department in one place at one time, disapproving stares firmly in place, or worse, turning a cold shoulder whenever Lucky approached. Lucky shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got things to do around the house.”
“But not two seconds ago you asked me to go do something with you. Where were those plans then?”
Damn but Lucky hated verbally sparring with someone who wouldn’t back down. “I don’t want to go, okay? End of discussion.”
“Well, I’d really hoped to spend the day with you, but if you’re not going, I suppose I’ll see you tonight,
if
you’re not too busy. Then again, if what you’ve got to do involves cleaning, maybe you won’t be done for days.”
Together they loaded containers into Bo’s truck. Bo asked once more, “Sure you won’t change your mind? I mean, I hate leaving you on your birthday.”
“It’s not my birthday, and yes, I’m sure.”
Bo kissed him, in public. Lucky didn’t do public displays of affection. He darted a glance around the parking lot. Good. No witnesses. “I’ll see you tonight,” Bo said. “The picnic’s from twelve to five, and I promised to stay and help clean up. Why don’t you come over around seven?”
Lucky didn’t respond fast enough to suggest his place instead. Bo drove off, leaving Lucky to drive back to his duplex and spend the day alone. He made a halfhearted attempt at cleaning, washing laundry in preparation for his trip, and then sat on the front porch with a couple of Mrs. Griggs’s cats for company.
“I don’t get Bo sometimes,” he told them. They didn’t answer, though the fat tabby chirped, lifting its head for a good chin scratching.
What to do withhis day? He could call his sister, but he’d always made a habit of emailing. What if she were at work? What if she didn’t have time to talk? What if she didn’t want to talk? What if one of the boys answered? Besides, hearing her voice would make him all the lonelier.
To avoid appearing overeager, he didn’t get to Bo’s place until seven thirty, for a dinner that tasted pretty good for being picnic leftovers. Lucky wasn’t going to admit they might have tasted better when they were fresh, when the people Bo kept going on about were there to talk to. He’d ignored them this long, hadn’t he?

Lucky poked his head out from underneath the covers and sniffed. Was he dreaming? No! There it was again! The tantalizing aroma of—bacon! He opened one eye, expecting to fully wake up disappointed. But no, Bo stood over him, tray in hand, wearing nothing but a smile. Damp hair, slicked back, told of a recent shower—or dancing naked in the rain.

“Wake up. I brought you breakfast in bed.” Bo sat the tray down on the nightstand.
Lucky scooted upright, taking in Bo’s offering—crispy strips of something Bo had sworn never to cook. “Is this a test or something?” Two eggs sat sunny side up beside dry wheat toast and orange slices, the bacon beckoning. “Umm…you didn’t cook naked, did you?”
“I wore an apron. And nope, no test. Since it’s your birthday, I thought I’d compromise. It’s turkey bacon. Still high in salt, but less carcinogenic than pork.”
Oh, that again. “It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s not? Okay, I’ll take this away.” Bo reached for the tray.
Lucky grabbed the plate before Bo could snatch it away. “Touch it and die.”
“Can I wish you happy birthday, even if it is a few days late?”
Lucky shifted his gaze from Bo to the plate and back again. Bacon. Bo’d cooked him bacon. “If it makes you happy.” Keeping an eye on Mr. Healthy lest he change his mind, Lucky bypassed the fork on the edge of the plate and lifted a strip of crispy goodness to his mouth. “Oh damn. That’s almost better than sex.” It didn’t matter if it came from a pig or a turkey—the mouthwatering morsel looked like bacon, smelled like bacon, and with a little imagination, tasted like bacon. Lucky entered blissed out, bacon heaven.
Bo scowled, folding his arms across his chest.
Lucky couldn’t resist yanking the guy’s chain. “I said
almost
. Actually, real bacon’s almost better than sex. This stuff’s more like looking at porn. Kinda reminds you of the real thing, and will tide you over, but nothing beats honest to goodness bacon.” Lucky broke a yolk with his fork, dipped a piece of toast into the mess, topped the egg with a slice of bacon, and popped it into his mouth. He moaned, he couldn’t help himself. Mixing with egg made the wish-it-wasbacon taste more like the real thing. At least it wasn’t soy bacon.
Brrr….
“Turkey bacon or porn?” Bo flexed, pumping his cock to semi- erectness. “Well, imagine
this
on the page of your favorite jerk-off mag. Okay, keep chewing, and compare it to
this.
” Bo spun around, bending over at the waist.
Lucky spewed a few toast crumbs, but not the precious bacon.
Bo exaggerated a putupon sigh. “Have it your way. I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
“You do that,” Lucky replied, words coming out “Mmmm mu mmaaht” due to a full mouth. Bo reappeared and set a cup of coffee on the nightstand before dashing out the door again.
Lucky mopped up the last of his breakfast with a piece of toast. Bo returned, carrying a package the size of a shoe box, wrapped in garish red, white, and blue paper covered with smiling boats, airplanes, and trains, more suitable for a kid’s gift than a lover’s. A very young kid. “Sorry ’bout the paper. I got there late and the gift shop had nearly run out. My choices were this”—he indicted the grinning vehicles with a wave of his hand—“or Hello Kitty.”
“Good choice,” Lucky replied. Bo got him a gift? Suddenly, birthdays didn’t seem half bad. Except for the annual card from Charlotte and the boys, nobody’d gotten Lucky an actual present since Victor. A shadow fell over Lucky’s mood, and he wondered who’d wound up with his Mustang, the nice watch, and the other presents he’d gotten, all seized after Victor’s arrest. Lucky could’ve sold the rings and chains Victor’d given him and lived comfortably for years. Gone now.
Don’t look back.
Bo placed the package on the bed and took the plate away. “It’s just a little something. I hope you like it.”
Lucky shook the package. What’d Bo get him? A brick? Damned thing weighed a ton! He ripped open the paper, finding a white paper box inside, and lifted the lid on… A dragon? He hefted it out of the box for a better look. “I… well… gee… I mean…”
Bo’s nervous smile vanished. “You don’t like it.”
“I do. I mean…” A dragon?
“It’s for protection and luck. It’s Chinese.”
Well, at least Lucky could honestly say Bo’d surprised him, withthe bacon and the gift. “Thanks, Bo. I like it. I really do.” He didn’t know what to do with the darned thing. It’d make one hell of a weapon, all wrought iron with sharp ridges. Why couldn’t he have had it while in prison? He’d have slept a whole lot safer.
“Since I only found out Friday, I didn’t have time to special order, but it’s your birthday—I wanted to get you something. The moment this case is over, I’m taking you away somewhere. You and me, the whole weekend, no distractions. How does that sound?”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Bo sat the plate on the nightstand and lay down on the bed. “Yes, I did. And unlike you, I love birthdays. Come September, be prepared to spoil me rotten. But today is for you, or rather, until we have to go to work.” He rolled to his side, nibbling Lucky’s earlobe. “I’ll make your birthday a day to remember.”
“Not my birthday,” Lucky mumbled, instantly distracted when Bo shimmied down the bed to take Lucky’s cock in his mouth. First bacon, now a blow job? “Given time, I might learn to like birthdays!” Lucky moaned.
Bo chuckled, uttering what sounded like, “Anything you say, bacon breath,” around his mouthful.
Lucky slumped farther down on the bed, eyes drifting closed. He cupped the back of Bo’s head, lending a helping hand to control the motion. Nothing beat a good morning blowing. Not even bacon.
Bo groaned and Lucky opened his eyes, observing while his lover applied suction. Damn. Just damn. “Lay on your stomach,” Lucky ordered. Maybe something did beat a morning blow job after all.
Bo fell to the side and arched his back, raising the most tempting ass this side of the Mississippi. Lucky rolled over, palming one firm mound. Damn, what a body. Not too bulky, not too skinny, packed with lean runner’s muscles, and liberally sprinkled with freckles, the occasional mole tossed in for good measure. Lucky sank his teeth gently into flesh while kneading the other cheek. Bo gasped, pressing into the contact. Nature had given Bo a nice butt because he totally got off on attention paid to that particular area, apparently.
Lucky ran his rough fingertips over silky skin, blowing out a puff of air. Gooseflesh gathered in the path of the breeze. Nice. With tongue and teeth, Lucky worked his way up to Bo’s shoulders and back again to the twin globes that haunted his dreams. He eased his hands down, parting flesh and swiping Bo’s pucker with his tongue. Bo wriggled and let out a whimper. Lucky took that as permission to explore freely.
He lavished attention to Bo’s balls, hole, and the area in between. Soap and man and arousal filled Lucky’s nostrils, and he worked a hand under a thigh to grasp Bo’s shaft.
“Damn, that feels good,” Bo gasped.
Lucky swirled a finger against saliva-moistened skin, pressing in until the barest tip pushed pastBo’s muscled barrier. Should he ask for the toy, repeat their play from Friday night? Bo wriggled, moaned, and chanted, “Oh yeah, fuck me, Lucky.” No time for toys now.
Who’d moved the nightstand? Had it always been so damned far away? Lucky stretched to reach the drawer. He yanked too hard, sending the contents crashing to the floor.
“Get what you need and leave the damned drawer,” Bo growled, sliding a pillow beneath his hips.
Hanging halfway over the bed, Lucky snatched up a box and a tube. He fumbled with the condom pack, dropping it twice. “Hold still, damn it!” The cellophane pack refused to rip.
“Hand it here.” Bo ripped open the pack with relative ease and handed back a latex circle.
Lucky rolled the condom on in record time, dabbed on a touch of lube, and plunged into sweet, tight pleasure. Ahhh… Like coming home. Bo answered his blissed-out moan with one of his own. A series of sharp thrusts later, Lucky’s groin rested against Bo’s ass. He bent to place a kiss between Bo’s shoulder blades. Arms wrapped securely around his lover’s chest, Lucky turned them into a spooned position, dropping one hand to Bo’s cock.
He worked himself in and out of Bo’s body, matching his thrusting with the pace of his hand. A shoulder proved too tempting, and Lucky trailed his tongue over taut muscle.
Bo rocked back against Lucky, impaling himself, emitting breathy little grunts. Lucky pumped a steady rhythm. Bo’s tensed muscles signaled eminent orgasm.
“I’m gonna come,” Bo warned. Lucky snapped his hips, driving in and retreating at a frantic pace. High pitched noises harmonized with huffed breaths, squeaking bedsprings, a string of cussing muffled by a pillow.
When Bo’s channel gripped tight, Lucky stilled and let loose, releasing pulse after pulse. Slickness coated his hand. He panted through the aftermath, holding Bo to his chest in a vise grip. Damn but they were good together.
They lay in silence, Bo skimming his fingers up and down Lucky’s arm lying draped over his chest. “Still think bacon’s better than sex?” he asked.
“I said almost.”
“Okay, is it still almost better than sex?”
Lucky mumbled something low. Bo could imagine it to be whatever he wanted to hear.
“What’s that? Can’t hear you!”
Lucky mumbled again. Damn. The man didn’t play fair.
“Still can’t hear you.”
“Oh, all right. Sex is better than bacon.”
“You bet your ass it is. Better for your health, too. Now, while I hate to break up the party, we need to get moving.”
Lucky’s cock slipped from Bo’s body, and he lay boneless and recovering while Bo returned the drawer to the nightstand. Something poked at his calf, and he looked down into the dragon’s red eyes. Though he’d never been accused of being overly observant outside of work, he recalled similar figures in the living room. “Bo?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s with the dragons?” With its weight and size, Lucky figured to use his for a doorstop. That is, if he didn’t trip over the damned thing and break a toe.
“I told you. It’s for protection.”
“Yeah, but what about all those of yours in the living room?”
Bo sank onto the edge of the bed and peered down at Lucky, eyes dark and serious. “You remember me telling you what happened with my dad, right?”
“Uh-huh?”
“And how I couldn’t sleep in a bed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“After I went to live with my aunt I woke her up a lot with nightmares.She bought me a gargoyle because she said that’s what old cathedrals used to keep evil away. My brother bought me a Chinese dragon figure for Christmas that year. I’ve been collecting ever since.”
“Just dragons and gargoyles?”
“I’ve got other things I’ve added over the years. Coins, amulets, mostly given to me by my aunt and brother.”
Interesting. “Do they work?”
“They keep me company.”
“You don’t like being alone?”
“Stop asking questions, we need to get ready. We have to get to Anderson and settle in before tomorrow.”
“But you said we needed to learn more about each other.”
“Later. Now get up and take a shower. I still have to pack.”
Liar. Bo’s packed suitcase sat by the bedroom door. Lucky wondered why the man suddenly wanted to be alone, especially whenhe didn’t seem to like it much.
* * *