Black Mustard: Justice Read Online Free Page B

Justice’s lap, inhale deep, suck in Justice-flavored air, all in the same motion.
    One of Justice’s fingers -- ink stained and square -- traced the line of his cheek. “Shit, you’re fine, cher. You should drink whiskey more often.”
    He knew he blushed; he could feel his skin heat. Still, he shrugged, unable to not lean a little, move toward that touch. “Justice.”
    Justice nodded. “Yeah, cher?”
    That sweet hand moved again, touching him so right. Oh, please. He whispered the word, but what came out was “justice” again.
    Somehow, it was okay, though, because Justice’s finger moved to outline his lips and he opened up for it, wrapped around it.
    Sucked.
    Oh, fuck, Justice tasted so fucking good. And the moans. The deep, bourbon-soaked hunger sounds filled the air, and he’d done it, him.
    Broken and fucked up and still.
    Justice wanted him.
    “Cher.” Justice’s eyes liked to burn the place down, the stare like a flame licking between them.
    He nodded, and the motion slipped more of Justice’s finger into his lips, let him suck just that much better.
    “Been wanting. Been wanting to touch.”
    Well, he was right here. Available, even, and hard as a rock. He let Justice’s finger pull free with an audible pop, then spread his arms. “Justice.”
    Seriously.
    “Cher... You sure?”
    He’d never been so sure of anything in his entire fucking life. Still, it looked like Justice wasn’t going to get the clue until Loic climbed up into the man’s lap, let his mouth drop down, kissing Justice like it was a condemned man’s last wish.
    Oh. Better.
    ***
    Justice groaned and his high ball glass hit the balcony, rolling off and clattering against the window boxes.
    He couldn’t.
    This wasn’t.
    Bon Dieu!
    He wrapped his arms around Loic’s lean body and dragged the man closer. Loic’s tongue wasn’t stupid, no, not stupid at all. It danced in his mouth, pushing his lips open, touching his teeth. Justice’s eyes rolled and, even though he hadn’t had enough to drink to be dizzy, the entire world spun about, leaving him breathless and gasping, gripping Loic’s arms like a drowning man.
    Loic backed off, winked at him. “Justice.”
    “Oui. Need you, yeah? More.” Loic nodded at him, smiled, and Justice’s heart skipped a beat. “Cher. Cher, please.”
    He reached out, fingers molding around Loic’s cock, measuring it through the thin slacks. Oh, fine. Long and lean, like the man it belonged to, that sweet prick bobbed like it needed him as bad as he wanted it.
    His thick fingers were clumsy as all fuck as he tried to work buttons open, zippers down, and Loic pressed closer, hiding from the crowds down on the street -- silly, normal folks going to supper, to drink, to dance, all missing the wonder, the miracle he had in his damn hand.
    “Ain’t gon’ share, cher.” The little word play made him chuckle, made Loic hoot.
    It was a fine thing, when he freed Loic’s cock, exposing the long shaft to the night air. His fingers wrapped right around and he let himself stroke, base to tip, moving easily. Loic grunted, teeth sinking into that full bottom lip, hips rocking not at all carefully. The scent was perfect -- bayou and soup, whiskey and hunger. Justice’s mouth watered.
    He leaned back, drawing them deeper into the growing shadows in the lee of the house, the nearly faded sunlight held at bay by the rainbow flags waving in the breeze.
    Storm was coming, praise God.
    A wild one and he was celebrating it, right here with his Loic. He used his thumb on the tip, pressing in the barest bit, hunting a sting. He knew he found it when Loic jerked, bucked up, and his name rang out, like the best kind of curse.
    “Oui. Oui, cher. Just like that.” He moaned, watched every second. “Just like that. Need to see.”
    Then he’d take Loic in and see the rest -- top to bottom -- and let Loic see him.
    Loic nodded, hips moving faster, butt bouncing on his lap, cock driving in his fingers like his cher