Three the Hard Way (4 page)

“You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“You’re right. But I would’ve if you’d fucking kept your old phone number in service,” Justice pointed out. He hadn’t realized how much anger he’d built up inside against Taggart, but that asshole had deserted him, and when they’d needed each other most.

“You were trying to force me into ACRO.”

“Right. Because this is so much better.” Justice waved his hands around this metal biodome from hell. “I don’t care what happened to you or whatever else your protests are. You’re coming to ACRO with me.”

“Fuck that,” Tag snapped. “I called
you
. Not
them
.”

Unbelievable. “Do I really have to point out that you
did
call ACRO? Their extremely private number?”

Tag ground his molars loud enough for Justice to hear the scrape of enamel. “I didn’t have your number. Seems like ACRO erased your entire existence. So, yeah, I did what I had to do, and it worked. You’re here. ACRO can stay the hell out of it.”

So. Fucking. Stubborn. “Sorry, man, ACRO knows about you now, and there’s no taking
that
bullet out of the chamber.”

Tag snorted. “So . . . what? You’ll take me in against my will?” But he shifted uneasily.

“I’ll tie you up. Gag you if I have to.” Justice backed Tag against the wall, but Tag held out strong arms, his hands against Justice’s chest, keeping Justice from getting too close. “But you like that, right, Tag? Least, you always did.”

“Fuck you,” Tag spat out.

Justice looked between them. Tag’s hard cock was outlined against his pants, same as Justice’s. “You need me to tie you for this? The way you used to want it, so you could pretend it wasn’t you wanting me, that I was forcing it all on you? I know you liked that and hell, so did I.”

“Go away, Justice. This was a mistake.” Tag’s hands were still holding him off, but they’d also fisted—Tag’s sign of want and need—and fuck, it’d been too long.

“Was it? Or did you call me here on purpose because you missed this? Missed us?”

“No.”

Justice smiled at the lie. And this, at least, was as familiar as Tag being a miserable bastard. This zap of electricity that always passed between them had been theirs from their first moments fucking.

Justice leaned in, forcing Tag to bend his arms. He licked the side of Tag’s neck, a predator marking his prey. “You still smell the same. Taste the same. But I’m going to check everywhere, just to make sure.”

He planted his mouth down on Taggart’s, expecting resistance. What he got instead was Tag grabbing his hair, twisting his fingers in it, holding him close.

He was going to get Tag’s clothes off, fuck him, and then get him on the plane. Bound, gagged, whatever.

But first, he was going to fuck Taggart, and pray he didn’t wake up before it was over.

If this was another dream, he didn’t want to know.

This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare. Maybe both.

Four years after losing Justice, Tag’s body was reacting as if they were still together and nothing had changed. As if Justice hadn’t all but destroyed him.

Clearly, Justice hadn’t destroyed his dick because it was all,
I’m so happy to see you!

Taggart ripped his mouth away, but Justice palmed his face in both hands and held him for his kiss. It was brutal and angry and Tag loved it as much as he hated it.

He caught Justice’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, tasted blood. Justice growled, and Tag moaned as the raw, erotic sound vibrated all the way to his groin. Memories of dozens of past against-the-wall make-out sessions flipped through his mind, a distraction that gave Justice the upper hand. In an instant, Justice wheeled him away from the wall, hooked his leg behind Tag’s knees, and took him to the hardwood floor.

His shoulder jammed on impact, and his ribs, fractured during the Itor/ACRO battle a couple of months ago, hurt like fuck, but he forgot all of that as Justice came down on top of him and pinned Tag’s thighs between his.

“You dick.” Justice ripped open Tag’s shirt, sending buttons flying. “I see your impulse control hasn’t improved.”

No, but Justice’s fighting skills had. For some reason that turned him on. Turned him on so much that when Justice fell forward, grinding his erection against Tag’s and plunging his tongue inside Tag’s mouth, he forgot to fight for a moment. God . . . so . . . good. Didn’t feel like they had four years of bad history behind them. And when Justice shifted to rip open Tag’s jeans and palm his cock, Tag damned near came the way he had back when they were teens and Justice had touched him for the first time.

Wrenching their mouths apart again, Tag grabbed Justice’s wrist. “We’re not doing this. I didn’t bring you here for— Mother
fucker
!”

His balls felt like they were in a clamp, throbbing in Justice’s tight fist. Justice’s touch was expert, holding him on the razor’s edge of pain but managing to make it erotic, and he wondered what he’d have to do or say to make the guy stop.

Or squeeze just a little harder.

They’d had angry sex before, but this was different. This wasn’t about Tag getting wasted and forgetting to help Justice study for his physics exam. This wasn’t about Justice flirting with another guy just to get a rise out of Tag. This was about real pain, and they had the real rage to back it up.

“I don’t care why you brought me here.” Justice’s fist twisted, just a little, and Tag hissed. “You knew we had to get this out of the way before anything else.”

Yeah, he knew that. He’d known it when he dialed ACRO. “I hate you.”

If Tag had said that four years ago, he’d have seen hurt in Justice’s baby blues. Now he saw only cynical amusement. “Enough to tell me to stop?”

Justice’s hold on his sac released, and the next thing he knew, Justice was fisting his cock instead. Tag damn near swallowed his tongue as his ex-lover’s hand slid up and down. It was over and he knew it. Fighting this was stupid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go down swinging.

Falling forward again, Justice pinched Tag’s lobe between his teeth. “Well?” he prompted. “Do you hate me enough to tell me to stop?”

Taggart arched into Justice’s palm. “I hate you enough to not let you fuck me.” He drove his fingers through Justice’s short hair and yanked his head back so he could look him in the eye. “No. Fucking.”

The only sign that Tag’s words had struck their target was Justice’s subtle inhale. Tag would never let anyone fuck him if he didn’t care about them, and Justice knew that. Never. Hell, he’d only ever bottomed for Justice and Ian. Only Justice and Ian had been inside his body. Inside his heart.

“I mean it, Justice,” Tag growled. “You so much as try, and I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” Justice’s hand wedged lower inside Tag’s open jeans until his finger found Tag’s hole. Tag bit back a moan. “You don’t have a killer bone in your body.”

If you only knew.
Tag jammed his fist into Justice’s ribs and bore down on a particularly sensitive nerve. “No. Fucking,” he repeated.

Justice conceded with a shallow nod. “For now.”

No, not for now. For forever.

But before Tag could say that, Justice slid down his body in a quick, agile move and opened his mouth over his cock. Holy shit. His hips came off the floor in a massive surge, seeking more of that wet warmth. Justice took him deep and then began a merciless, punishing suck-lick-swallow rhythm that made Tag’s vision go blurry.

But not blurry enough to be able to pretend that it wasn’t Justice’s blond head bobbing up and down on his dick. No, when he looked down his body at what his ex-lover was doing . . . Holy shit, this was really happening.

Part of him wanted to weep with relief—the rest of him dreaded the regret and self-loathing he’d experience the moment it was over.

Pleasure streaked through him, erasing all that emotionally charged bullshit in his head, and he surrendered to Justice’s masterful touch. There was plenty of time to mire himself in a black pit of remorse later.

Justice sucked hard, hollowing out his cheeks, and Tag shouted in ecstasy. He was about to blow—

Abruptly, Justice reared up, tore open his own jeans, and shoved them down with his boxer briefs. His cock sprung out, a beautiful dusky column of flesh that made Tag’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he watched Justice crawl up his body and put the head of that gorgeous cock against Tag’s lips.

“Open your mouth,” Justice said, his voice smoky and commanding, a combination that was impossible to resist. “Suck it.”

Taggart gave it to the count of five, just to be stubborn. Then, with as much control as he could muster, he parted his lips and accepted the easy push of Justice’s erection into his mouth.

They both moaned. Tag knew every ridge, bump, and vein of Justice’s cock, and fuck, this was like coming home. Like four years hadn’t passed. Tag left all the anger and hatred behind and began to pleasure Justice eagerly, gripping his jeans-clad ass in one hand, while he wrapped the other around Justice’s thick length. His own cock was demanding attention, but the bastard could wait.

Pulling Justice in more, Tag forced him to fall forward and brace himself on his palms as he straddled Tag. The leverage allowed Justice to pump his hips and fuck Tag’s mouth the way they both liked it.

Closing his eyes, Tag concentrated on the warmth radiating from Justice, warmth he’d missed for a long time. He’d ached for this . . . but had he ached for the sex, or for Justice?

If the sound of Justice’s panting breaths was any indication, he was aching, too. Good. Tag was going to make him ache a little more.

Baring his teeth, he scraped them lightly along Justice’s shaft, wringing a hiss of pleasure-pain from him before sucking him deep and repeating it all again. And again.

When he was done punishing Justice—for now—he swallowed hard on his cock, and Justice groaned. “So good. You’re the best at that.”

Ian had said the same thing, and fuck that thought—Ian and his betrayal had no place in what was going on here, now, with Justice and
his
betrayal.

Tag’s cock was straining and his balls were throbbing, and this was enough foreplay. Wrapping his arm around Justice’s thigh, he forced him to shift positions. For a moment, Justice withdrew from Tag’s mouth, but a couple of seconds later, he was straddling Tag’s head again and sinking his wet cock back between Tag’s lips. Tag moaned around his shaft as Justice’s warm mouth engulfed Tag’s erection and sucked it deep.

Tag knew Justice had never liked this position, but he loved it, top or bottom—loved giving and taking pleasure equally—and he lasted approximately ten seconds before his balls tugged tight and his climax blasted through his cock. Justice swallowed, milking Tag hard, and even before the last spasms of Tag’s bliss faded away, Justice was also coming, his hot semen splashing into Tag’s hungry mouth.

Tag took it all, licking and sucking as Justice did the same, taking every last drop Tag had to give. His pulse pounded in ears as pleasure wracked him, and inside his chest, his heart was knocking painfully against his ribs as if warning him against feeling anything besides lust and anger for this man.

His ticker didn’t have to worry. Even now, utterly spent and his body trembling, Tag’s mind was filling up with all the reasons why what they had done was a terrible idea. No doubt Justice’s thoughts were heading in the same direction.

Groaning, Justice shifted off Tag and rolled to the side, his soft, glistening cock resting against his hard abs just inches away from Tag’s face. Four years ago, he’d have loved that. Now, feeling exposed, Tag tucked and buttoned up, but Justice apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass, just lay there, chest heaving under the red Iron Man sweatshirt he wore. The ratty, threadbare Iron Man sweatshirt Tag had gotten Justice as a gag gift during their first year of college.

“Iron Man, get it?” Tag engaged his power, and a pair of scissors flew off the counter and landed in his palm. “You’ll always be attracted to me.”

Justice rolled his eyes. “Lame, man. Lame.” In a flash of motion, he hooked his arm around Tag’s neck and drew him in for a kiss. “I don’t need a metal suit to be attracted to you,” he murmured. “I’m yours.”

Tag snorted out loud.

“You wanna let me in on the joke?” Justice asked.

No, not really. The last thing Tag wanted to do was acknowledge the damned thing, because Justice didn’t do anything randomly. Putting on that sweatshirt today had been a deliberate choice. Either he was trying to mess with Tag’s head, or he was trying to punch him in the heart.

What a jackass.

“I’m just wondering why you didn’t dress for Alaska in the winter. You could have frozen out there—” Tag broke off as Justice tugged up the hem of the sweatshirt to reveal a layer of fleece and a thermal shirt.

“I’m not an idiot.” Justice’s voice was as rough and raw as what they’d just done on the floor.

Shit. This had been as much a fight as it’d been sex . . . and Tag wasn’t sure who’d won.

“Did you hear that?” Justice murmured. “A click—”

The door banged open, and a blast of cold and snow roared into the cabin, bringing with it Tag’s second visitor of the day.