Psycho, page 13
Then Lucas was pulling free of his lips and the heat of his mouth disappeared. Lucas grabbed the lube that had rolled beneath August’s thigh, and August watched as Lucas coated his fingers then reached back, giving August a perfect view as he massaged over his hole before pressing two fingers inside.
August had been stabbed more than once, shot in the thigh, had once even had a shuriken embedded into his shoulder thanks to Atticus’s terrible aim. But having Lucas right there, inches from his face, fingers working in and out of his tight hole, while August could do nothing? That was true torture.
It could have been his fingers, his tongue. He could have taken Lucas in a million different ways and Lucas would have let him. Had clearly wanted him to. And now, he was making August pay. Making him suffer for not having enough faith in his own self control. He was making a show of it, too, rocking back on his fingers, whispered curses falling from his lips each time he pushed back in.
“Lucas…” August said his name like a warning. He couldn’t break through steel but, with enough motivation, he could probably break the headboard.
Lucas looked over his shoulder at August. “What? You didn’t trust yourself to do this. So now, I have to prep myself all alone.”
“You’re not alone,” August said, tone bordering on sulky.
“What’s the matter? You wanna play, too?” Lucas teased, slipping his fingers free and wiping them on the sheets. He grabbed the foil packet and tore it with his teeth. August sucked in a breath when Lucas rolled it onto his leaking cock, slicking it with lube. When Lucas rose up on his knees, August said, “Turn around. I want to see your face.”
Lucas complied, turning to face him, straddling August’s hips, reaching behind him to grip the base of his cock, pressing it against his entrance. They both groaned as Lucas lowered himself down, taking August all the way to the root in one swift movement. “Oh, fuck. You’re even bigger than you look,” Lucas managed, giving a few experimental rolls of his hips.
August could barely talk. Each minute movement sent shocks of lightning along his nerve endings. Lucas placed his palms on August’s chest and began to slowly work himself up and down. “Fuck, you feel good,” Lucas moaned, quickening his pace.
“Christ, this is going to be over fast if you keep doing that,” August warned.
Lucas leaned over him, pressing words against his lips. “Fine. Your legs are free. You do the work.”
August didn’t even wait for Lucas to finish speaking, just braced his heels on the bed and fucked up into Lucas, but it wasn’t any better. If anything, it was worse. August couldn’t slow his thrusts, not when Lucas was so hot and tight and wet.
“Touch yourself. I want to feel you come with me inside you.”
Lucas gripped himself with one hand and braced his other on August’s chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. He was sexy as fuck, especially when he was completely unaware of anything but chasing his own release. His breaths quickened, and every other thrust had a low whine falling from his lips.
Something occurred to August then. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” Lucas asked absently, his hand moving in time with August’s thrusts.
“Can you really feel what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, while we do this?”
Lucas hesitated, then nodded. “If I let myself.”
“Do it. I want you to know how good you make me feel.”
Lucas’s hand fumbled, and August froze, worried he’d ruined everything. But then Lucas closed his eyes, rocking himself on August. They both moaned at the same time. Lucas sucked in a breath, his movements quickening once more. August let him control the pace, and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Each time August felt a charge of excitement, Lucas moaned or whined or whimpered, which only served to wind August up even more. It was the world’s most erotic feedback loop, each of them feeding off each other’s pleasure.
Lucas wasn’t even touching himself anymore. He leaned back, his hands on August’s thighs as he rode him hard, devastating August’s already tenuous control, tension building between them with each downward motion. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I can feel you. I can feel it like a physical touch.”
If Lucas could feel him, then he had to know he wasn’t going to last much longer. “I’m close.”
“I know. Me too,” Lucas managed, somehow working himself even faster.
Heat coiled at the base of August’s spine, and then his orgasm hit, sending shock waves of pleasure over him. He came with a hoarse shout, filling the condom, goosebumps erupting along his body. Lucas’s knees clamped hard around his hips, his breaths growing more frantic, more ragged. Finally, he wrapped a hand around his flushed and leaking cock, giving one or two pulls before he was crying out, coating August’s furry chest and belly with his release.
August sucked in much-needed breaths as Lucas collapsed on top of him. “Holy fuck. That was… That was amazing. I wish you could feel what I felt. It was…mind-blowing.”
“Just think, you could have been doing that all along,” August said, annoyed with himself for even bringing up Lucas being with other men.
Lucas folded his arms on August’s chest, dropping his chin to his forearms. “You don’t get it. I’ve never done anything like that. Nobody believes I can do what I do. So, they think their thoughts are safe. Usually they are, but sometimes, I slip, and when I do, the results are pretty bleak. But you… You just let me in, you invite me in, and it’s so hot. You’re so fucking hot because I can trust that your thoughts won’t hurt.”
August didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, even attractive, but nobody had ever called him trustworthy and they’d never called him hot, especially not while looking at him like Lucas was. Before he could think of something to say, Lucas was reaching for the key, unlocking August’s wrists and working the blood back into his hands and fingers.
“Shower?” Lucas asked as August got rid of the condom.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Then we should order food. I’m starving. Did you eat after you…you know?” He made a stabbing motion like he was in a Hitchcock film.
August couldn’t help but laugh. “No, there was no time after we got everything cleaned up. She was a pain in the ass even after she died.”
Lucas took August’s hand and led him into the bathroom, turning on the water. When they stepped under the spray, Lucas frowned at August. “Are you okay?”
He wasn’t. A single thought hit him like a blow to his diaphragm. “You can’t leave me.”
Lucas blinked rapidly, water droplets catching on his eyelashes. “What?”
August cupped Lucas’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I know you think this is crazy. And I know some part of you thinks Kohn is going to kill you, so none of this matters anyway. I know that’s why you’re so casual about bedding a killer.”
Lucas opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but August shook his head.
“Don’t. Don’t lie to me. I know you think you have a clock ticking down over your head, but it’s not true. I won’t let that happen. If it comes down to random strangers or you, I’ll choose you every time. I’ll literally burn this world to ash before I let somebody hurt you. I don’t care who suffers because of it. I know that’s intense and weird but I need you to know I mean it. You’re not going to die, and I’m not letting you go. If you’re going to leave me, you’re going to have to kill me first. Please, kill me first.”
August snapped his mouth shut, turning away from Lucas, cursing his inability to be normal for five fucking minutes. It felt like an hour had passed before Lucas’s arms came around him from behind, his lips pressing against the nape of his neck. “I need you to know that is literally the most fucked up thing anybody has ever said to me after sex, including the one time a guy said I looked just like his older brother…after we fucked. Sadly, I already knew that because I saw it…you know, with my mind.”
August wanted to laugh but he couldn’t. He was waiting for Lucas to tell him to get out, to call him a psycho, a lunatic. “I just needed you to know. I feel bad about it. Well, I would feel bad about it if I was capable. I know I should feel bad about it. But I also know me. I don’t care that we barely know each other. It’s just you. You’re the one for me, and if I can’t have you, I’d rather not exist anymore.”
Lucas turned August around, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about that. Ironic given my profession. If I had a patient tell me their significant other had said that to them, I’d tell them to run fast and far in the other direction and that they were in an abusive relationship. But here I am, not going anywhere. I’m not afraid of you. And maybe I do feel like I’m on borrowed time, but that doesn’t make this any less real to me…whatever this is.”
“You’re not afraid of me?” August asked, heart thudding heavily against his ribs.
Lucas’s brows went up, a half smile forming. “Of you? No. Afraid for everybody else, yes. I can’t let you burn the world down just for me.”
August studied Lucas’s face, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “You say that like you have a choice.”
“Fine,” Lucas said around a sigh, reaching for the soap. “But that doesn’t mean we’re getting married. We’re not in a relationship. Not yet. We haven’t even known each other a week.”
August frowned at Lucas. “What does that have to do with anything?” he pouted. Then asked, “Then what are we?”
Lucas pressed the soapy cloth to August’s chest, taking his time to scrub him thoroughly. “Roommates at whatever asylum we both end up in if things go sideways with Kohn.”
August’s pulse returned to normal when he realized Lucas wasn’t running away, that he was just teasing him. “We can buy matching straitjackets.”
Lucas slid the washcloth lower with a grin, cleaning August’s balls like he planned on eating off them later. “Do they make couture straitjackets?” Lucas asked.
August leaned down and kissed him, pressing himself into Lucas’s hand. “Of course. Only the best for the Mulvaneys.”
Cricket smiled when Lucas and August entered the coffee shop, smirking when she saw their fingers threaded together. This morning, her hair was acid green and she wore purple lipstick. She waved hello and immediately started to make their usual orders as they took a table near the door. The place was completely empty. Still, Lucas couldn’t help but note how August took the seat facing the door. It was such a cop thing to do. Ironic considering August was anything but.
Once their order was complete, August snagged it from the counter, dropping too much money into Cricket’s tip jar. He placed Lucas’s coffee and muffin on the table as he returned to his seat, tangling their legs together. They didn’t talk much, but it was a comfortable silence filled with glances that made Lucas blush like a fucking school girl thinking about what they’d done just hours before.
Lucas slowly dissected his chocolate chip muffin, tearing it into tiny pieces before popping them into his mouth. August had chosen a cheddar jalapeño scone, which he was eating with a delicacy Lucas found amusing, like he was concerned about getting crumbs on his jeans and t-shirt.
As they ate, Cricket watched them carefully, her gaze darting from them to something behind the counter, to the door, and back again. It wasn’t that she was behaving any weirder than usual, but something in her behavior was making Lucas uneasy, which in turn was making August scan the restaurant for whatever perceived threat might be lurking.
When August’s phone rang, he turned it over to view the screen, immediately picking it up when he saw who was calling. He placed the phone between them and hit the speaker button. “Morning, Calliope.”
August putting it on speakerphone seemed like a weirdly intimate gesture. Lucas rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thought, earning a confused look from August. Lucas waved a hand to let him know to ignore him.
“How’s the arm?” Calliope asked in lieu of a greeting.
August’s mouth formed a hard line. “Who told?”
Calliope chuckled. “Who do you think? Adam texted me before you two had even left the warehouse. You let that bitch get a hold of a scalpel? That’s not like you.”
“Thank you. That’s what I said,” Lucas interjected, giving August a superior look.
There was a long pause, and then, “Oh, my God. Are you him? Are you Lucas? The Lucas?” Calliope asked with the same reverence and awe she might give a celebrity.
August smirked at him, taking a sip of his coffee.
Lucas leaned closer to the phone. “Um, yeah. Hi.”
“Hi. Hi,” she said again. “I’ve heard so much about you. Is it true you’re psychic? I totally believe in all of that. Astrology. Tarot. Ghosts. My mother knew when people were going to die before they did. She said she used to look at their faces and instead of their normal face, she’d see a skull instead. It started when she was a kid, in church no less—”
“Calliope,” August interjected, “was there a reason you called?”
Lucas liked her instantly. Unlike August’s cocky brother, Adam, Calliope seemed more like Noah, more…human. Friendly. Excited to know him. It was an odd feeling after being surrounded by hundreds of people—from doctors to co-workers—who thought he was crazy.
“Can you get to your father’s house? I want to walk you through what I found, but I think you need to see it on the big screen.”
August flicked his gaze to Lucas, who shrugged. “I can be there in an hour or so.”
“We can be there in an hour or so,” Lucas corrected, giving August a hard look so he knew he wasn’t going to debate this with him.
August studied him for a long moment. “We will be there shortly.”
Calliope sounded giddy as she said, “He’s going to meet the family? Already? You work faster than Adam.”
August sighed. “Calliope…”
Lucas smiled. August had a way of using people’s names like a warning. He’d done the same thing last night when Lucas had him tied to the bed. His whole body flushed at the thought. He’d had August Mulvaney tied to his bed, had experienced what was probably the single most erotic and intimate moment of his life to date…and there was literally nobody to tell.
“Ugh, fine. Do you want me to let your father know you’re coming?” Calliope asked, defeated.
“No. It’s fine. I imagine, if he’s home, he’ll find his way to us eventually. He has a sixth sense about these things. And, whatever you do, do not tell the others. Lucas doesn’t need to be overwhelmed by the rest of the family.”
“Aww,” Calliope simpered.
August disconnected with an eye roll, then looked at Lucas. “Are you sure you’re up for this? My father hazed the shit out of Noah when Adam brought him home the first time.”
Lucas’s chest squeezed. “He can’t be worse than the people I thought were my friends. I need to see this through. I’ve wasted too much time running scared since I got out. Who knows what Kohn’s been doing or how much blood I have on my hands because of it.”
August frowned. “You didn’t do any of this. You tried to warn others. You tried to do the right thing and they punished you for it. This is on them.”
When August stood, Cricket called out, “Um, Lucas?”
Something in the way her voice wavered made his original uneasiness ramp up a notch. “Yeah?”
She hesitated, then reached under the counter and retrieved a box. “I know you said to call you if I saw that man again, but…” She trailed off, her face pale.
There was nothing ominous about the box, but she held it gingerly like it was a bomb. It was just a black shoebox with an elaborate red ribbon around it and a small white tag.
She came around the counter, chewing on her bottom lip. “Um, this was outside our door this morning. It had your name on it. It wasn’t August’s writing. Something about it gave me the creeps, but I wasn’t sure if it was from that guy or not. I was going to show you when you came in but you just looked so happy. But now that you’re leaving…what should I do with it?”
Lucas’s stomach dropped, but August took it from her calmly and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll take it from here. If you get any more packages like this, give us a call. Don’t touch them, just call me.” He fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Lucas is going to be staying with me from now on.”
“What?” Lucas asked, head snapping up.
August set his jaw like he was ready to fight if necessary. “You heard me. He’s toying with you. You’re not going to play some cat and mouse game with a serial killer.”
Cricket gasped. “Serial killer? He said he was an FBI agent.” She frowned, muttering to herself, “That badge looked so legit.”
“He is a serial killer and it is a real badge,” August said with a matter-of-fact tone that floored Lucas. “So, you can imagine how dangerous he is. If you see him, call me. No matter what time of day or night. Understand? Don’t call the cops. Call me.”
Cricket’s eyes went wide, and she nodded, clearly spooked.
Lucas probably shouldn’t find this bossy and authoritative August as attractive as awkward and stilted August, but he did. The man was a dozen different people all rolled into one sexy, brainy package and Lucas’s psychotherapist heart was there for it. He would never be bored with August.
Cricket swallowed audibly, her hand crumpling August’s card in a death grip. “Am I going to die or something?”
August gave her a surprisingly gentle smile. “You’re not his type. People will care if you go missing.”
A myriad of expressions played across Cricket’s face as she was at once relieved but also horrified at the implications of his statement. Nobody wanted to think their safety came at the expense of somebody less fortunate.
Lucas raised his hand to touch her arm but then thought better of it. He didn’t need any accidental transference. He was anxious enough as is. “It’s going to be okay.”
