Johnny V and the Razor Read Online Free Page B

won’t make any trouble for you,” Johnny said.
    “I know.”
    Something about the way Sloane said it, the way he kept his voice low made him seem harmless, the way a tiger with a full belly could be harmless. “You think they’ll play the game tomorrow if the field’s all wet?”
    “Maybe.” Sloane fell back onto the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “If they don’t, I’ll take you somewhere else.”
    Johnny took in Sloane’s hard flat belly, his arms heavy with muscle, the way his pants pulled against his crotch, showing the curved lines of his cock. Tonight, Johnny had come so close to dying that being on his knees between Sloane’s legs seemed almost… safe. And he wanted to be on his knees, inhaling Sloane’s scent, pressing his legs farther apart.
    Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Johnny pressed his face into Sloane’s crotch and kissed softly.Sloane reached down and ran his long fingers through Johnny’s hair, and everything was going good until thunder rolled across the sky. Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin.
    “Come sleep in my bed,” Sloane said. “That’s all. Just sleep. I don’t want you alone on a night like this.”
    Johnny didn’t want Sloane thinking he was some crybaby who couldn’t make it through a storm. “I don’t mind,” he said.
    Sloane sat up, looked down at Johnny and rubbed a thumb over his lips. “I do.”
    Johnny leaned his head over so he could rub his face against Sloane’s rough hand.
    “Up,” Sloane said quietly. “Go on.”
    Sloane’s bed looked like it could sleep five and have plenty of room left over. It was all black, four posters, maybe mahogany. Johnny was completely distracted by wrong angles that didn’t add up. “How did you get a bed like that in here?”
    Turning toward Johnny, his eyes steady on him, Sloane said, “All the boys I brought up here, and none of them ever asked about the bed.”
    Flushing deep red, Johnny mumbled, “I grew up seeing men build things.”
    “Lie down,” Sloane said. “Get some rest.”
    Johnny, in just pajama bottoms, lay down on the side of the bed farthest from the door, his back to the wall. Sloane left and went into what Johnny thought of as the Big Room, and then Johnny heard the sounds of something pouring.
    By the time Sloane came back, the storm was raging through the night. The ceiling was just like the other bedroom, all glass. It glowed with lightning.
    Sloane lay down on the far side of the bed, facing the door. Johnny watched him through slitted eyes, the curves of muscle on his body, the way he didn’t look scared, almost like a stormy night was nothing compared to what was on his mind.
    Thunder clapped through the sky loud enough for Johnny to think the glass would crack for sure. He jumped a little, trying to act like he’d been sleeping.
    In the dark, under the muttering thunder, Sloane said, “It’s just a storm. Not like we’ll blow away.”
    “Seen whole houses get blown away,” Johnny said. “Where I come from, storms kill you.” He turned toward the wall, because what he really wanted was to be under the bed. But that was too embarrassing.
    A while later, when lightning rippled across the sky, Johnny felt Sloane slide closer, felt his hard body against him. Johnny didn’t move, afraid that he’d fallen asleep and this was a dream. Sloane kissed the base of his neck. Lightning lit the room, showing Johnny their shadows flickering on the wall.
    Sloane kissed down the middle of Johnny’s back, making him squirm and push back against him.
    “If you want me to stop,” Sloane said, “tell me.”
    The feel of Sloane’s lips, his soft breath on his spine, made Johnny shiver all over and made him forget the storm. But nothing could have made him not hear how Sloane’s voice sounded like a lie a man told himself. A man like Sloane took what he wanted, even if he didn’t think he would.
    Johnny turned in Sloane’s arms, moving onto his back. Sloane’s lips covered his,