Sedonia Guillone

Kenji handed over the money, probably enough to have gotten the cab to take him to the other side of Terran A. But Kenji didn’t know anyone on the other side of Terran A. He only knew one other person who might be able to help him, for he sure as hell needed help now. And that one person was, he prayed, in Spike’s right now. “Do you see a huge man with stringy black hair, covered with ammunition belts?” Kenji asked, “Because if you do, I’m not getting out of this cab until he’s gone.”

The driver studied the street around them. “You got a bounty hunter on your ass?”

“I think so.”

“Shit. Sorry about that. For what you paid me, you could stay here the rest of the night. Your own private cab. But no, I don’t see no one with that description.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, pal. Good luck. Them bounty hunters are some rough bastards.”

Don’t I know it. The image of that poor guy in Asia town, lying on the ground, blood pouring from his face surged in Kenji’s mind as he opened the taxi door. And the way all those people stood there, frozen, letting the man get pummeled…

Kenji got out and pushed the cab door closed. He dashed into Spike’s, his heart still pounding fiercely.

Spike’s was nearly in full swing. The usual electric guitar-laden music blared through the air, mixing with rowdy male laughter, the clack of pool cues against balls and the catcalls from the audience watching the live nude show that was usually going on in the corner. Spike liked the way the show got the guys riled, who then needed the hustlers to get them off. Made more money all round.

Kenji scanned the place, ignoring the sudden attention of many pairs of eyes on him, some curious, others openly leering at his bare torso. They probably thought the semi-naked thing was part of his gimmick. It sure as hell wasn’t. His chest heaved and his hands opened and closed in panicked fists. He had to find Fallon and get into one of the cubicles as soon as possible. What if the bounty hunter came in here, looking for him?

“Hey, Kenji!”

Kenji turned. Relief flooded him.

There, on a corner stool, was Fallon, tight white t-shirt over buff chest, dark-stubbled, chiseled face, and all. Fallon swiveled the stool and gestured for him to come over. A mug of something golden and frothy already sat on the bar in front of him.

Fallon had been waiting for him.

Kenji bounded over and came to a stop in front of Fallon. Their gazes locked.

Fallon’s eyes widened. His blue eyes shadowed with concern. “Kenji, I wanted to make sure you were all right?”

Kenji stood, words suddenly locked up. He couldn’t even speak. Images roiled inside him with the terror he’d felt, the frightening flight across rooftops and in front of giant buses, the horrifying glitter in the bounty hunter’s eyes…Kenji stepped up to Fallon, so close, the man’s musky scent met Kenji’s nostrils. Kenji had an unusually fine sense of smell and Fallon’s scent surrounded him. But Kenji still couldn’t speak.

“Kenji? Where’s your shirt? I saw a report on the…nnnhh—“

Kenji surged forward, cutting Fallon’s words off with his lips.

Blimey! Fallon started. Kenji was freaked.

He tried to pull back but Kenji grasped his upper arms, holding him in place with strength that belied his narrow, wiry frame. Kenji’s lips pressed insistently to his and his fingertips dug into Fallon’s triceps as if the smaller man were hanging onto him for dear life.

Oh hell. The odd grip invaded Fallon’s senses, against his trained inner cop. The world shrank down to the dig of Kenji’s fingers in his muscles and the velvety heat of Kenji’s lips to his. The rowdy music and catcalls cheering on their kiss faded to the background. The fervent chafing of Kenji’s lips against his told Fallon everything, as if Kenji were speaking in a language made up only of kissing. Terror, relief, passion all mingled in Kenji’s kiss.

However…if McCray had been chasing Kenji, they needed to cut out of here. Fast.

Reality yanked Fallon from the lustful haze induced by Kenji’s kiss. He pulled back and looked into Kenji’s good eye. Kenji’s chest rose and fell as if he’d been long distance running and his one iris was dilated nearly to full capacity. This had to do with the report on Channel X. “Kenji, talk to me. You’ve been—“

Kenji lunged and kissed him again, this time, stealing between Fallon’s lips. The moist heat of his tongue invaded Fallon’s mouth, capturing Fallon again. Kenji pressed in close, his chest to Fallon’s and this time, Fallon’s body tingled to life with a will of its own, forcing Fallon to surrender.

Crikey. Only Nichols had ever been seductive enough to make Fallon override his instincts. Fallon palmed Kenji’s back. Planes of lean muscle shifted under his hands. Kenji’s skin was warm and smooth. Delicious, really. The sense of danger mingled with his growing arousal. Kenji’s hot tongue swirled against his and the slimmer man’s scent, light sweat laced with that spicy cologne he always wore…

Kenji pulled away this time and picked up Fallon’s hand. “Come,” he said and tugged, moving along so Fallon could do nothing else but slide off the stool and follow.

He let Kenji lead him toward the back passage of the bar looming ahead of them, the darkly lit corridor of private cubicles. The places where Kenji worked his magic with those sweet lips on Fallon’s cock. Once there, hidden from the rest of the patrons, he’d be able to get the truth out of Kenji. Before all the blood in his brain drained down to his lower body.

Shite! Like a conditioned dog, Fallon’s hard-on responded. Kenji had him prisoner, captured by the way the dim lighting glowed on his sleek torso and ebony hair, and by the promise of ecstasy by way of blow job.

Kenji pushed back a folding door to the first available room and tugged Fallon inside. Fallon’s brawn filled the majority of the dark space, lit only by a black light, which cast a purplish glow on them both.

Before Fallon could utter a word, Kenji was on him again, lips closed heatedly over Fallon’s, hands scrabbling at Fallon’s heavy belt buckle. Deftly, Kenji had the belt and pants open in second and one hand stole under the waistband of Fallon’s undershorts.

Fallon sucked in a breath, his lips still connected to Kenji’s. Kenji’s tongue surged against his as if to keep him quiet.

It was working. The pads of Kenji’s fingertips slid down Fallon’s rigid length. Up and down, base to head, index finger sliding over the taut lobes and catching the first droplet of cum to seep out. Kenji used the moisture to glide down the length of Fallon’s cock again and Fallon sagged back, completely imprisoned. The answer to him was clear—come first and he’d regain his control, enough to get an answer from Kenji. And then, get them out of here.

Kenji closed all fingers around his cock now and stroked. Up and down, slick caresses that made Fallon groan into Kenji’s mouth. With his other hand, Kenji was working Fallon’s trousers and undershorts past his hips. Fallon knew his goal—get the clothing down just above his knees. Enough space to suck.

Fallon’s hands skimmed over Kenji’s shoulders. Kenji was deliciously hot and they’d messed around enough in previous meetings for Fallon to know just how delicious Kenji was. Smooth skin. Lithe, hard muscles. Athletic body and thick, sleek hair. To say nothing of the man’s lips.

Kenji’s free hand smoothed over Fallon’s left ass cheek and squeezed. Fallon groaned again into Kenji’s mouth. Kenji knew what Fallon liked and was doing it all.