Chapter Seven

Rand awoke with a shiver. The sheet had slipped to the end of the bed and the curtains on the window flapped in the wind. Reaching for the covers, his hand made contact with Frank's body. He snugged into the warmth.

"You were snoring," Frank said.

"No shit. I wonder why."

"You want to talk about my visitor now?"

"I thought you asked him over because you don't want me to get too attached to you. You're afraid of that, aren't you, Frank?"

"Stop. You're getting in over your head."

"Okay, Chicken Little."

Frank drew a deep breath. "Don't let it go to your head, but I'm not interested in fucking anyone else."

"You mean that?"

"I said don't let it go to your head. Now, climb up on my stomach, face toward my cock."

Eager to please him after that admission, Rang obeyed without hesitation.

“Feel how hard I am for you now, pretty boy?"

The moon slipped out from behind a cloud, exposing Frank's thick, long cock. He could almost see the engorged blue veins running the length of it. The huge, mushroom-shaped tip loomed dark purple.

"Suck it. Show me how much you want me, and spread your legs."

Rand dropped to his stomach and spread his legs out at Frank's sides. He took only the head into his mouth and sucked, drawing it through his teeth slowly. Rand's confidence soared when Frank's hips arched upward.

"Swallow it, the whole thing, and suck me harder. When I tell you to stop, you stop, right away."

Rand sucked greedily, taking the whole length in until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned when Frank took a hold of his balls and pulled his sacs downward and pinched the loose skin. Christ, the man knew every trick in the book, knew how to wring him inside out and back again with all his wicked skills. Rand had a hard time concentrating on the slick, warm penis in his mouth while Frank stretched and tugged on his balls. The man's cock expanded and hammered in sync with Rand's heart. Frank's body tensed and a low growl came from his throat.

Rand stopped long enough to ask a question. "Like that, Frank? Am I sucking hard enough, too much, what?"

"You're a hungry little bastard, aren't you?"

"Rand scraped his teeth over the tip, about to swallow him again when Frank said, "Stop, right now and get on your stomach."

Rand's heart skipped a beat.

"Bring your knees up underneath you and leave your hands out at your sides." Frank reached over and turned the dim lamp on beside the bed, dragging it down toward his ass. Chills ran down Rand's spine. "Bring those knees in tight and raise your ass up high in the air. Good boy, now tuck your chin down and spread your cheeks."

"What?"

"You heard me. Grab your cheeks with your hands and open yourself up, all the way."

A tremor coursed through him. Christ, Frank wanted to watch his cock go in. Rand moved his hands to his butt and spread his cheeks.

"Wider, pull them apart all the way. That's better. Now you hold them, no matter what. Don't let go of your ass."

A finger went in and Rand sucked in a breath. Deadly quiet behind him, Frank worked his finger in and out, rotating it around until Rand thought he'd die from the sensations.

"I'm putting three in you now. Hold still."

"Oh, God," he said, when he twisted three fingers in and drove them home.

Beneath him, his own cock swelled and throbbed. Oh, God, was he going to come again? He didn't think he had anything left to spurt.

"Feel good with three fingers up your ass?"

Panting hard, Rand nodded.

"Oh, no. You're not getting off that easy. Say it, tell me how it feels?"

"So fucking good I can't stand it. I'm so hard again, it's unbelievable," Rand said, stunned over the way his cock begged for release again.

"Don't come until I tell you. I want you to come with my dick inside you."

"Stop fingering me or I'm gonna spurt."

"Your sphincter is rebelling. Relax. I want total submission."

"Please, Frank, fuck me. I can't wait much longer. My penis is leaking all over the place and I'm trying to hold it back, but it wants to spit."

"Hold those cheeks open; I want to see my cock going in."

Frank took his fingers out and Rand felt the tip of his cock at his anal opening. He drew a deep breath and waited for the plunge. He felt the pressure and then the thick head pushed its way in, stretching him wider than he'd ever been. Pain shot through his groin accompanied by an echo of pleasure.

"Yes, yes, oh God, yes," he said mindless with lust.

Frank pulled the tip out and pushed it in again over and over, without sinking past the head. Rand imagined his deep blue eyes glazed over as he tormented him and watched his own cock slip in and out of his ass.

"You want it, pretty boy?"

He nodded and rubbed his sweaty forehead on the sheets. "Oh, my God, please don't tease me. Shove it all the way in."

Frank took hold of his hips and drove in deep. Rand cried out and clutched the bed sheets, the pleasure blinding him.

Frank rode him harder than a wild stallion, so hard, Rand's body moved forward on the bed and his head met the head rail. He'd pull out almost completely and slam into him. Rand rocked back against him until their balls met. He wanted more. Deeper. Harder. Before long, he begged, cried out, and strained beneath him like a wild animal caught in a trap. Frank reached around and took his cock in his hand and milked it hard in perfect rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. Low groans came from Frank's throat, something Rand hadn't heard before.

"So tight, so warm. No one pleases me like you do, Rand."

Had he called him by name instead of pretty boy? During sex? Rand exploded, his semen shooting into the bed. He lost pace with his breathing as the warm cum spurted from him in an endless stream of thick cream. He felt Frank's release in his ass, hot and thick. Long minutes later, Frank pulled out, and rolled to the side.

Rand pulled the blankets around his chin and scooted to the opposite side. "Stay over there for the rest of the night. I'm dying here."

"I won't touch you," Frank rasped, "but we need to talk."

"About what?"

"A family friend died last night."

He sat up in bed. "Who?"

"Thomas Kincaid."

He lost pace with his breathing again. "Tom? How?"

"Found him in the river this morning."

Rand hesitated, allowing images of Tom to flit through his mind. A gentle, timid child, on more than one occasion Rand had come to his defense. Others loved to pick on Tom for no specific reason, just because he never stood up for himself. "Who told you?"

"The FBI agent who left his bloody shirt in my sink and made a hasty retreat after you challenged his sexual gender. And your mother."

"Oh, God, poor Martha."

"Yeah, she's not doing well. Funeral is Thursday, but the woman insists on attending the parents' meeting tomorrow night."

"Are you going?"

"Yep, and so are you." Frank rose from bed and returned moments later with one glass of water, the Jack Daniels, and a shot glass. He handed the water to him and filled the shot glass. Downing it one gulp, he poured another. "Did you personally know the men who died?"

"What do you mean by personally?"

Frank sloshed down the second shot. "I don't mean in that way, although they were gay, weren't they?"

"I knew Thomas well, the second one, Jamie, as an acquaintance, and the others only in passing at college." He paused again to think about the one commonality—all gay. "Yes, the word on the street is they were gay."

"Hmm, seems more than coincidental, huh?"

"You think it's a gang of gay-haters?"

"I don't think it's a gang."

A knot twisted in his stomach, reminding him of a coiled pit viper about to unfurl. "Why not?"

"No visible signs of trauma. If it was a hate crime, where are the bruises, cuts, blood?"

"You know exactly how they died, don't you? Apollo from the FBI told you."

A laugh spewed from Frank's throat as he filled the shot glass again. "Hayworth is a handsome man."

"You gonna drink the whole fucking bottle?"

Rand caught himself studying Frank out of the corner of his eyes. Ribbons of moonlight danced through the bedroom, illuminating his broad shoulders, ripped biceps and hard stomach. Common words didn't begin to describe Frank's beauty—the magnificent, rugged features and fathomless blue eyes, not to mention the body parts below the sheet.

"I might after the day I had." Frank opened the drawer on the nightstand and tucked the Glock under his pillow. "I'm going to ask you a question. If ever I needed the truth, it's now. I'm not mad; I just need it straight up."

"Did you just put the gun under your pillow?"

"Yeah, one of the reasons I need the truth."

"Jesus! All right, ask, and then will you tell me what's going on?"

"Fair enough. To the best of your knowledge, did any of the men who died use heroin?"

"No! I mean, not that I ever heard. Pre-med students know better than to mess with that drug. First off, they'd be kicked out school if anyone knew, and―"

"The first four were not pre-med students."

"No, but Thomas was, and I know without a doubt he wouldn't use heroin. No way."

"Have you?"

"No!"

"So, five were gay, but attended different schools." It wasn't a question. Frank said it as if talking to himself.

"Your turn. Tell me what that FBI agent told you. How did they die?"

"Cardiac arrest."

"Cardiac arrest at their age? All five?"

"After injecting heroin."

"Tom didn't inject heroin, so stop saying that. I don't care what the man told you. He's wrong."

"He didn't say they injected it. He said heroin showed up in their systems."

Rand clutched the sheets, pulled them up to his chin and turned his back on Frank. "I don't want to talk about it anymore, and for the record, I love sleeping in a bed with a loaded Glock aimed at the back of my head." He glanced over his shoulder. "You ever go bonkers when you have those fucking transcendental dreams?"

"No, but if you're worried, I seem to remember a bed in the other room."

Rand smiled. "Oh, no, not on your life. I'm scared shitless now, and I need the big, tough Frank McGuire to protect me from the boogie man."

"You're a smart ass, pretty boy, you know that?"

"Yeah, like someone else I know. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Frank fluffed the pillow under his head

Rand knew he wanted to make sure the gun remained right where he put it.