Page 87 of Bazooka
I buried my face in his trimmed pubes.
“In my mouth, Baz,” I murmured, breathing him in. “You taste so good, so give it to me all. Deep. Unload into my stomach if you can. Feed me.”
He growled and grabbed me by the hair, then shoved his dick in my mouth. I started to swallow because he was already spilling down my throat. He was giving it to me all as I asked him to. He was feeding me. I was still choking on his cum when I gave my dick a few tugs, and it detonated. I came with a muffledshout, spilling all over my hand and the floor, feeling brain-dead. Giving and receiving. Swallowing and releasing.
When we were both done, I rested my head on his thigh, with his softening dick still in my mouth. I was sucking on it as if it were a pacifier before he put a stop to it, making me whine in protest. When I looked at him, I smiled because Baz, in a post-orgasmic bliss, was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. His eyes were heavily lidded; his pupils dilated. His chest was heaving, and his cheeks were flushed, telling me someone just got a blowjob of a lifetime.
“Did you come?” he murmured huskily.
I raised my hand, which was covered in cum, as proof.
“Give me a taste,” he said.
I brought my hand to his mouth, gulping. He licked the cum off my palm, then smacked his tongue as if he were tasting me… really tasting me.
“You taste good, Luz,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “You taste so fucking good.”
After that, we had dinner—the real one. It meant double portions of Shepherd’s pie for each of us and a few glasses of sweet cherry wine Alain had brought. We talked about his day, except for the part when he was attacked, because he refused to talk about it. Then we talked about my day, without me telling him how much I missed him. After that, we went to bed. Together.
We lay there awake, with our limbs entangled, for long into the night. I was basking in it all... his presence, his body heat, his scent. I could still taste him in my mouth and feel him in my sore throat. Yet, I never expected to feel such happiness, or the tears to appear in my eyes for no apparent reason. One should have canceled the other out, but like rain on a sunny day, sometimes you would get both.
When Bazooka kissed my forehead, a tear slid down my cheek.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he said, cradling me in his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you, Baz,” I muttered, hugging him tight. “I just… I just fucking do.”
As I mentioned before, keeping my mouth shut wasn’t my strong suit. Sometimes it turned good, sometimes it turned bad, but Baz deserved the truth.
I deserved it too.
Chapter 14
The Man with the Plan
Bazooka
I woke up at dawn and made some coffee before going out on the balcony to get some fresh air. I watched the sunrise while sipping the strong liquid and forming a plan in my head.
The man with the plan—that was me. You needed a plan? I got one. You needed a solution? I got one too. In the present situation, I had both a plan and a solution, and I hated them both equally. I arranged the details with Jordan, but this morning was about to turn into a giant shitshow, and I knew it. I could smell it in the crisp morning air. I could feel it in my bones. My soul was plagued with doubts. My heart ached. Still, I was the man with the plan, and I was sticking to it.
When I heard the bedroom door open, I headed back inside, only to see Luz standing in the doorway. As always in the mornings, he was cute in the way puppies were, all sleepy and cuddly and innocent. He wrapped the blanket around him, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not going to the station?”
“Soon,” I replied. “Before that, you should know there has been a new development. Mendoza has been threatening me left and right recently, so I arranged for you to stay at Jordan’s place.”
He paled. “What?”
“Jordan can protect you, and you two get along, so it’s for the best. I’ll deal with that fucker Mendoza my way.”
For a few moments, Luz was just staring at me. A bereft look crossed his face, making me doubt myself.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“I do. It’s for the best.”
“Will you stop saying that?”
