Page 44 of Burn this City

“I’ll try.” Sal helped him up, and despite knowing that somehow his limbs were detached and mismatched, his body mostly obeyed, though his sense of balance was shot and he leaned too heavily into Sal, who walked him into the bathroom. He withdrew somewhat while Jack wrestled with his clothes and then managed to sit and do his business. Sal only assisted again when Jack stood and headed for the sink, offering him a towel.

The way back to the bedroom took too much effort so Jack shuffled to the couch in the living room and sat down. But even sitting up took too much focus, so he stretched out sideways.

Sal looked down at him. “I can’t quite tell whether it’s a comedown or a second phase.”

“I feel good.”

Sal knelt next to him and ran a hand over Jack’s chest. Jack lifted a hand and placed it on top of Sal’s. As his body returned to awareness, so did the pleasure of that touch, and he wanted it more of it, so he pushed Sal’s hand under his shirt and onto his bare skin. He pushed Sal’s hand down as he tugged his shirt up, until he felt the fingertips slide down across his stomach. A thousand small sparks lit up, and Jack groaned with the pleasure. He tried to unbutton his shirt but failed. “Help me.”

Sal carefully unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, and Jack managed to shed the undershirt next. Sal regarded him with an unashamed hunger and arousal that lit up every inch of Jack’s skin.

“All right, I’m opting for a second phase,” Sal said. “And I guess it no longer makes a difference, right, Jack? Whether I’m the one to touch you or someone else does.”

“No.” Jack directed Sal’s hands to his body and squirmed beneath the caresses. Sal ran his fingers over every inch of his exposed skin, explored and stroked every muscle, every line, every dip and hollow. Not enough. He pushed Sal’s hands lower and was pitifully grateful when the man opened his belt and worked his pants and boxers down over his cock and past his balls. He’d imagined what being touched like this would feel like, had dreamed about it, but now that it was happening, he felt elated and reckless and sexy in his own skin. That Sal was the first man to touch him was fitting and oddly wonderful, though his hand around Jack’s cock made him gasp—the heat and roughness of that grip was altogether breathtaking.

Sal took his hand away and Jack was about to protest when Sal shushed him. “I’ll make it better. Back in a second.” He stood, walked away and Jack took that moment to pull his trousers and boxers down further, though it seemed impossible to get past his feet. Fuck it.

Sal returned and knelt down again. His hand was slick now, and that same slickness then covered Jack’s cock. The grip was strong, though the strokes were slow and intense, the slick palm adding a slight twist that was different from how Jack did it himself but completely mesmerizing. He closed his eyes because another man’s hand stroking him was overwhelming, but also because he wanted to focus on the sensation, of friction and tightness and heat and slickness. When Sal sped up, he was ready to come, pushing up into the man’s hand, but then Sal slowed down again, and Jack balled his hands into fists. Though it felt so good when Sal squeezed his balls in the other hand. “Please.”

“Say ‘please Sal.’ I have a name.”

“Sal, please.”

“All right.” Sal began jerking him faster again, oh so skillfully, timing those strokes just right, and when orgasm began rolling in, tightening every muscle in his body, Sal’s mouth suddenly covered his.

Jack was too breathless for a kiss, overwhelmed when his orgasm hit and he came over Sal’s hand, but the kiss wrecked what was left of his mind—a greedy, openmouthed, hot, wet affair that was as dizzying as it was new. Even once his orgasm was over and he came crashing down, heart pounding almost painfully in his chest, Sal still kissed him. Jack couldn’t think, just mirrored Sal’s kiss, and soon lost himself completely in the taste and heat that was Sal Rausa.

24

Jack Barsanti was a fucking mess and Sal loved it. Whatever stuff the doc had shot straight into his blood had changed everything. And despite how fucked up Barsanti was, he still remembered everything. Every detail. Every name. Numbers—fuck, the guy had a mind for numbers and could recite passwords, phone numbers, account numbers and even balances down to the cent. At first, Sal had been skeptical that a man, who at times looked around with rolling eyes as if struggling to recognize where he was, could correctly recall account numbers, but when he looped back after an hour and asked for that account again, he got the same answer.

What kind of man kept the really important information exclusively in his head? This one did. And, well, it made sense. It was a place the Feds would find a lot harder to raid, because to Sal’s knowledge, the Feds relied on leverage that didn’t come in a small glass bottles.

What impressed him most was how Jack’s words remained understandable throughout, though he could get vague and muddled and wander off the point, adding details that seemed to come so far from left field that he and Enzo had looked at each other, puzzled, but the doc seemed less surprised. Same with the pauses he needed before responding—they seemed a little longer than even for a thoughtful answer, but again, whenever Sal grew impatient, the doc told him that was to be expected.

Jack seemed drunk or overly tired to Sal, except for that sharpness of recollection, and the mix was weird.

“That’s quite the truth serum.”

“Nah, it’s a happy side effect. He could still lie, but lying is a pretty complex process, and we derailed him a lot. Also, after that first session, the question is if he would still want to lie. So vote’s out.”

“What’sinthat shit?”

“Based on ketamine. Ketamine is fun, you should try it.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d want to get so fucked up.”

“It’s really intense and pleasant.”

It seemed to help with the guilt and hesitation to sell his whole damn organization out, and also with whatever loyalty he felt to Andrea. What was interesting was the flatness with which he responded to questions—none of that tension or the constant attempts to out-think and out-race Sal, but also, it didn’t come with any suffering.

Sal felt his own exhaustion as the night pushed on; some small bites from the kitchen and shots of coffee could only do so much after all that intensity. While the doc offered to give him what he called an “upper”, he’d declined, because he needed his judgment intact and, frankly, seeing Jack Barsanti coming totally apart after an injection was another counter-argument. He needed his wits about him and while he liked the doc and was more than happy about the man’s contribution, he wasn’t going to trust him or offer his arm.

Any last lingering doubts that Jack was much more together than he pretended to be fled when he had to help him walk. But how they’d got from there to Jack insisting that Sal touch him and all but begging for sex was a mystery. And that resolute statement that it didn’t matter whether it was Sal or anybody else—it almost made Sal almost laugh, because after all that coyness and composure Jack had displayed, this was new. It was refreshing. And maybe, after everything he’d put Jack through, he owed him a handjob. It wasn’t like he wasn’t getting anything out of it. He loved the moment when the barriers came down, instinct took over, and needs and urges ran the show. It made him feel alive and needed.

But that kiss. Yeah, well, he was a kisser. He also kissed Enzo, though never casually or outside the bed. Jack wasn’t in a state to push him away, but he’d gotten really into the kissing, and it had been Sal who’d turned away in the end because he was too close to losing control. Jack on the couch, smelling of sex, blissed out and blurred around the edges and still uncoordinated hit several of his buttons—he could have lain down next to him and rested until they’d slept or recovered or both. Or he could have stripped him to the skin, pushed up his legs, and fucked him then and there. Or he could have rested first and then started again, seduced him and take that last bit of him that Sal wanted.

Control.

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