Explosive Distractions by BA Tortuga – NSFW

February 22, 2018

explosive distractions

 

“Wait.” Sonny lifted his head, feeling the bridge of his nose cut through the thick, humid July air like a dull knife through cake. Fucking Florida in July. He could be under a palm tree in Aruba. “We’re in Florida for fireworks? How patriotic of you, Precious.”

“Yep. There’s a warehouse over there full of them. You’ll have to dock for a couple hours and then I’ll be back.” Oh. Someone was getting bored.

“Whut?” Something didn’t add up. He’d been promised new boots and maybe a corny dog. Not so much with the corny dogs in Aruba, so he took any chance he could to get them in the States.

“I’m going to go… explore a bit. Restock. Uh. Create a touch of private chaos. Nothing fatal. You’re going to go stalk the pier and buy some fudge.”

“Nope.” He rolled to a sitting position, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We were supposed to stalk the pier for fair food together.”

“I can’t blow up the warehouse from the fair, Sunshine.”

“Right. Because that’s more important than keeping your redneck happy.” He batted his eyelashes, rubbing his bare chest.

MJ arched one eyebrow, mouth open to snap something back, eyes following his hands.

“You’ll catch flies…” Sonny pinched one of his own nipples, just grinning to beat the band.

“Huh?” Must be boredom; it took more to distract his Precious from a paying gig.

“With your mouth hanging open that way.” Sonny spread his legs, letting it all hang out. “Don’t you want to make me happy, MJ?”

“I do. I make you happy, asshole.”

“Well, come make me a happy asshole and show me you love me more than explosions.” That was pushing it, and Sonny knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been pushing his Precious since they met.

“I don’t know… I’m damn fond of explosions…” MJ wandered right up to him, hand cupping his balls and giving them a roll and a tug.

Little hairs stood up all over his body, and God knew he had enough of them. Sonny moaned a little, licking his lips. “I know…”

“Mmhmm.” MJ’d forgotten all about the boom; Sonny could tell. He fucking rocked at this whole ‘distract the terrorist’ thing.

He reached out and grabbed one lean hip, his fingers sliding over ink and skin. “‘Course, I like fast cars. But I like you better.”

“You like me in fast cars.” MJ stepped closer, palming his balls, fingers sliding behind. “You like blow jobs in muscle cars where the truckers can fucking look in and be jealous.”

“And you like hand jobs with hostages in the back seat. We’re well matched.” Yanking MJ down on his lap put his balls in danger, but made his cock pretty damned happy.

“Uhn. Hey.” MJ grinned down at him, leaned in to bite the living Hell out of his bottom lip.

“Mmmm.” Hell, Sonny figured he’d forgotten the question, too. Naked skin trumped just about anything. He just grabbed that tight ass, pulling MJ right up against him.

“Weren’t we… uh… Yeah.” MJ shrugged, pushed fucking hard and toppled them, landing square on top of him so that their mouths crashed together.

Licking and biting, he took the kiss, his mouth opening under MJ’s. Goddamn. MJ said he was oral? That man could flat out kiss.

“Sunshine.” MJ tilted his head, just a little, and that fucking kiss went deeper, MJ just fucking his mouth.

Sonny rolled them, pushing MJ down on the deck, his hands on those strong shoulders so he could hold MJ down and hump like he was riding the pony or some shit. Who was fucking distracting who, yeah?

Those little fucking noises MJ made? Settled right in his balls, sweet as anything. His back arched, his hips working away, rubbing his cock against MJ’s belly. Ping! Friction. Go him. Sonny liked friction.

“Gonna have deck burn on your knees. My ass.” Fucker was laughing at him.

“Adds spice, Precious.” He’d show that man deck burns. Pushing back, Sonny knelt up between MJ’s thighs, spreading and lifting until he could bend and lick the line of skin behind MJ’s balls.

“Oh. Oh, fuck. Sunshine.” Uh-huh. Yep. Just like that.

The way MJ’s legs curled around his shoulders made Sonny feel like a god. A horny, really hard god who wanted to just fuck until sunrise.

“Fucking need you.” MJ’s fingers were scrabbling on the deck; he could hear them and Sonny knew MJ wasn’t thinking about any explosions.

“Gonna give you everything.” His tongue moved those balls back and forth and he could feel the skin shiver and draw up, could feel MJ shudder. Then he went for that tight little hole, pushing his tongue right in.

MJ grunted and jerked, this raw-ass sound coming out as those thighs on his shoulders went tight as stone.

Yeah. Somebody loved his mouth, yes they did. Goddamn, he loved the way MJ spread for him. Fucking needed it all the damned time. Sonny worked that tiny ring of muscle until it was loose, open for him. Yeah. Then he’d go to town.

He just heard MJ’s voice, begging for it in that fucking surfer dude accent, asking for his prick, hot and hard and ‘goddamn it, Sunshine, now’.

Laughing for the sheer joy of it, Sonny lowered MJ back down, his own thighs pushing against the insides of MJ’s, opening the man wide.

That little son of a bitch could spread like butter for a hot knife, cock curving over that pretty belly, hole right there, begging for him.

“Jesus fuck, Precious. Make a dead man come.” He was very much alive, though. Damn. Sonny pushed his cock right where it wanted to go, just grunting and squeezing in.

“Sonny.” MJ blinked up at him, eyes rolling like dice. Yeah. Hell, yeah. This was only fucking his.

Never anyone else’s. Just like his hairy redneck ass was MJ’s. All the way to the ground. He started rocking, just pushing and moving, needing more.

MJ got up on his elbows, adding his strength to their fucking, causing pure electricity to slide down Sonny’s spine.

“MJ. Christ.” Though Christ should wait for the second coming, not the first. Which was close. Very close.

“Yeah.” MJ’s hands found that leaking cock, started pulling and tugging and giving him a show.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Soon.” He was gonna explode. He’d never been in that man without feeling like he was gonna die happy.

“Uh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” MJ nodded, too-long hair bouncing as that pretty ass went tight-tight.

His eyes rolled, too, just like MJ’s had, and Sonny let out a surprised grunt. He was coming so fast he hardly had time to tense up, just shooting like crazy. There was spunk all over his belly when he came back down, MJ relaxed and moaning under him.

“Oh.” Humming, he stroked MJ’s hip, licking sweat off one cheek. “Better.”

“Uh-huh. Much.” MJ was blinking nice and slow, humming as his tongue traced the line of the scar leading up MJ’s face.

His fucking mark. Did it get any better than that? “So. Corny dog?”

“Mmm. I do like those. Do I get funnel cake too?”

“You do.” He’d get anything MJ wanted as long as they didn’t blow anything up.

“Okay. Maybe we can find a nice quiet place to blow each other during the fireworks tonight.”

“Oh, that sounds like a fine idea, Precious. The best you’ve had in an age.” He stroked that wild hair, smiling at the sky. Yeah. That would set off all sorts of sparks.

***

Man, they’d eaten more than a bunch of middle-aged stoners at an all-you-can-eat banquet.

And MJ could say that from experience.

They’d splurged and found a top floor hotel room, with balcony and wet bar and bed the size of the boat.

MJ fucking approved.

He was sprawled on a deck chair, sunglasses on, wearing nothing put a pair of Miami Heat shorts and a smile.

He may never look at a corny dog again.

A cold, wet bottle hit his belly, making him jump. “Looking good, Precious.”

“Mmm.” Sonny was being all smug about the distracting, no-explosion thing. He’d be irritated if it wasn’t sort of cute. Vaguely. Besides, he was too full to blow shit up.

“Good food, huh?” Sonny flopped down on the chair next to him, long legs just going on and on.

“I’m never fucking eating again.”

“Bullshit. You’ll work it off. I promise.” Oh, listen to that drawl. It always meant good things after a nap happened.

“You think so? You think you can get my heart racing? I mean, I could be blowing shit up.” He reached out with one foot, tugged the hair on Sonny’s leg.

“Ow. I think I could, for sure. In fact, I have a fine track record.” Those long fingers slid over his foot, Sonny teasing him a little.

“Yeah, well, I admit that funnel cake thing? Almost as good as chocolate. Maybe better than sex.”

“I’m not sure I want to take a backseat to fried bread.” Still, Sonny was grinning huge, nodding. “It was good, though.”

The first splash of light hit the sky, the colors just a little dull because it wasn’t quite dark enough. “Ah, it’s starting.”

“Uh-huh. We should move closer together.” Putting actions to words, Sonny scooted his chair on over, right where they could press up together. Oh, warm.

“You know, I…” He was sure he had some deep, internal, political statement to make about Independence Day. He did.

Hell, it was probably fascinating.

But Sonny’s lips crashed into his, hard enough to derail him, to send him flying away with the little flecks of magnesium and copper that were burning.

Sonny never let him talk politics.

Fuck, that was good. All that naked skin pressing up against him, Sonny sucking his tongue until his eyes crossed. Yeah. His legs spread, toes curling up as Sonny’s fingers wrapped around his balls, tugging enough that he felt it in his belly.

That man had the fastest hands east of… Well. Anywhere he could remember. Except maybe Singapore. Wait. That would be west, right?

Then Sonny tugged a little harder, rumbling deep in his chest, and MJ lost track of why he gave a shit. Look. Purple lights. Red. “Damn.”

“Mmmmhmm. Damn, Precious. Look at all the sparklies.” Those fingers moved just right, making his whole body bounce on the chair.

“Uh. Uh-huh. I.” Yeah. Lights. Jesus, Sonny had amazing fucking hands.

“You like that, huh?” Oh, Sonny knew just how much he liked it when those rough fingers slid behind his balls, pressing hard at the tiny strip of skin there.

“Fuck.” One of his legs jerked up, just like there was a button back there, controlling him.

“MJ. Hotter than any Fourth of July…” Sonny kissed him again, making his head spin, extra little lights going off behind his eyes. The deck chairs creaked and groaned, reminding him a little of fucking on the boat, of the way everything moved for them as they played.

“What do you want, Precious?” Oh, he was supposed to think when those lips wrapped around his nipple and Sonny’s fingers traced his hole?

His foot slammed onto the concrete, hips pushing up as he groaned. Those teeth caught him, the sting and burn just enough to make toes curl. Sonny bit harder, really making him feel it when one finger slid inside him, scratching all the way in. Oh, God.

“More.” The lights just kept flashing – reds and blues and purples and fucking greens.

“More? Like this, more?” Two fingers, then three… yeah. That was more. That was ping and stretch and goddamn.

“Uhn.” Yeah. Yeah. He pushed up, staring into Sonny’s eyes, just about ready to pop off. “Sunshine.”

“Fucking love that look. Love how you want it.” Those dark eyes stared right back, Sonny smiling for him, that razor’s edge grin that meant the man was right there with him.

“You love me.” Oh. Dude. Fireworks. Fucking fireworks.

“I do. Now, Precious.” Those fingers pushed in hard, pegging his gland, Sonny growling for him deep and low.

“Now.” He jerked, coming so hard that the fireworks just burst, colors firing. That his fucking eyes were closed was completely beside the point.

“Fucking beautiful.” Sonny crawled right into his chair, knees on either side of his thighs, that hard cock humping his belly.

He grabbed Sonny’s ass, pulling up and scooting down at the same time. He got his lips wrapped around Sonny’s prick, pulling hard, needing that bitter-salt.

“Shit! MJ. Harder. Touch me.” Those strong muscles went so tight, so hard, Sonny giving him everything.

He sucked hard enough he saw stars, fingers tapping the tight, hot little hole.

“Uhn!” The last explosion was always the best. Sonny filled his mouth, gave him all that heat and wet and bitter, just boom. Incendiary.

They slumped down, the chair just creaking like an old house. It worked though, held them both up. It was hot. He could taste Sonny. The smell of cordite was in the air.

Life was fucking amazing.

***

Sonny woke up, every muscle tensing up when he reached over to pat MJ’s butt and it wasn’t there.

Really, the lack of MJ butt was a terrifying thing. The man should still be asleep, ass up in the air, ink showing stark on that skin. If MJ wasn’t asleep, and Sonny couldn’t hear the shower running, it was time to get up and move.

Rolling out of bed, Sonny started looking, even peeking behind the curtains.

Nope.

No MJ in the room.

No MJ in the bath.

No MJ shoes.

No MJ little black bag.

Goddamn it.

He damn near missed the note, taped on the fucking a/c unit. “Sunshine. Morning. Look over the water. M.”

Sonny threw on a pair of jeans and shirt, grabbed his gun and tucked it in his waistband and pulled out his own little kit full of syringes and vials. Only then did he open the sliding glass doors and go out on the balcony.

Just like magic, one explosion after another started, warehouses full of fireworks just going straight to Hell.

Okay, not even MJ was that good. Where was the little fucker hiding with the detonator?

He scanned the roof of their hotel, where their little paradise was from the night before. No MJ. Okay. Okay, find the most likely places, Redneck, he told himself.

He turned around, looking away from the fireworks and saw the little fuck, three balconies over, drinking a cup of coffee and watching him.

Oh, that little bastard. Fucking motherfucker. The explosions were bad enough, but to leave him our of it… Sonny lifted his hand and gave MJ a one-fingered salute, turning and marching right back into the hotel room. He’d pack his shit and leave that little fuck for the police.

MJ appeared before he got all packed, looking about as cool as a cucumber. “Enjoy the show?”

Sonny took a deep breath and let it out his nose. “Are you stupid?”

“Not last time I checked. IQs change.”

“They must.” His little kit was the last thing he put it away, and Sonny sure did think about using it, first.

“Right. Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you at the dock. My fee will’ve transferred by then.” MJ grabbed his laptop and ditty bag, heading straight for the door.

“Fee…” What the fuck? “You never mentioned a fee, Precious. You just said you wanted to blow up fireworks. I think I might have to beat you…”

“You’d have to catch me first.” One eyebrow went up. “I know how you feel about the random jobs. Money was good, though. Real good.”

“Uh-huh.” Casually, slow-like, Sonny moved close enough to tackle MJ. “You know what’s worst? You left me asleep while you went to work.”

“You looked cute.” Cute.

Fuckhead.

He was not the one who came out swinging on cute, though. Really. His hands clenching meant nothing. “What are you going to do to make it up to me, Precious?”

“There’s a muscle car show starting at noon and I have a wad of cash. What do you think, Sunshine?” The asshole actually cracked a smile, eyes dancing.

Oh. Well. That could work. “Is this car show far enough away that we won’t have to leave it at a run?” He wanted to actually look this time.

“You know it. It’s a holiday weekend, after all, and it would look odd, to leave so soon after that terrible accident.”

“There you go. Okay, then. We’ll go. You buy me a nice car, Precious, and I’ll blow you in public.” MJ would like that. All danger man.

“Works for me.” MJ pushed close, tugged him down into a kiss that made his ears ring. Mmm. Coffee. “Let’s go get waffles.”

“Waffles…” Sonny blinked, following his cock, which was following MJ. “Sausage?”

“All you can eat, Redneck.”

“You’re cruising, Precious.” His hand landed on MJ’s ass, just hard enough to sting, but he wasn’t mad anymore. Nope, his mood improved apace.

“I was just trying to give you fireworks.”

Uh-huh. Just. Pure philanthropist, his Precious.

Balls to bones.

End

Copyright 2007 BA Tortuga

***

Much love, y’all.

BA

 

Check out Road Trip Vol. 2 today!

 

RoadTrip2_postcard_front_DSP

 

Road Trip Collection

The course of love is a rough ride, but for ecoterrorist MJ, ridge runner Sonny, physicist Paddy, psychic Neil, genetically enhanced English professor Duncan, and the assassin known as Cowboy, the road to romance is a heart-stopping trip—one full of kidnappings, explosions, secret programs, and supersoldiers. They’re an awful ragged bunch to be considered heroes.

Under Pressure

Sonny and MJ’s retirement may be in jeopardy, but at least they’re together on a new boat—with no annoying hostages. Then Cowboy, MJ’s old friend, gets in touch, bringing with him a host of complications, including Professor Duncan, who has ties to the Program. A call for help from Paddy sets them all on a collision course with a deadly specter from the past. As MJ makes his plans, Sonny is shaken by the possibility of losing everything.

Walking on the Sun

Sonny is determined to raise hell to hunt for MJ—problem is, will MJ know anyone, or himself, once they catch up to him? Neil and Paddy are healing but reluctantly join the effort, as Cowboy and Duncan help Sonny prepare for a showdown. Sonny might be ragged, but he’s MJ’s hero, and he is not about to give up on the most important thing in his life, even if it kills him. Will everyone survive the last epic battle, or will they go out in a blaze of glory?

First Edition of Under Pressure published by Torquere Press Publishers, March 2009.
First Edition of Walking on the Sun published by Torquere Press Publishers, September 2010.

 

 

About BA Tortuga

Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.

Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the  high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery menages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head. Find her on the web at www.batortuga.com

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