Psycho, page 17
Before Lucas could recover, August spread him open and laved over his hole with a laser focus that had him moaning long and low, pushing back on August’s nimble tongue. “Oh, fuck.”
August locked his hands around Lucas’s waist, dragging him closer, fucking his tongue against his entrance, licking and sucking at it like he couldn’t get enough.
“More,” Lucas begged, voice ragged. “Fuck me.”
Lucas wasn’t sure August heard him at first, but then his mouth disappeared and two slick fingers impaled him in one hard push. Lucas couldn’t stop the rough sound that fell from his lips. “Stop being fucking gentle. I’m ready. I want your dick, not your fingers.”
August was on his feet in one graceful move, his fingers never leaving Lucas’s body. His hand came around Lucas’s throat, pulling him upright, just as he slipped his fingers free. Before Lucas could say a word, August impaled him on his cock in one hard thrust, driving the air from his lungs and forcing him up on the balls of his feet. “What was that?” August growled against his throat.
Lucas couldn’t speak with August’s fingers gripping his throat and his hips pistoning in and out of him in a brutal rhythm that robbed him of thought. This was what Lucas needed. August wasn’t hurting him, he was…possessing him. He was inside him and all around him. He controlled the pleasure he felt and the air he breathed.
Suddenly, August’s hips faltered. “Fuck.”
The sudden change in August’s tone scared Lucas for some reason. “What’s wrong?”
“I forgot the condom.”
Something loosened in Lucas’s chest. “I’m negative.”
“Me too,” August swore. “But I’ll stop.”
Lucas paused for only as long as it took to process August’s words. “No. Don’t stop.” Then, more forcefully. “Keep going. Seriously, fuck me.”
The change in August was instantaneous. He pulled free of Lucas only long enough to push him onto the mattress and follow him down, forcing Lucas’s legs apart with his own so he could drive back into him as he pinned him to the bed, surging into him relentlessly.
“Fuck, I wish you could feel how fucking hot and tight you are inside. You’re so fucking perfect,” August muttered, voice strained with exertion.
August planted a hand between Lucas’s shoulder blades, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, the head of his cock scraping along Lucas’s prostate with every pass. Lucas couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop the helpless cries falling from his lips. Each thrust set his soul on fire, made his dick throb where it lay trapped between his belly and the blanket.
August’s full weight fell heavy over him once more. “It’s okay, you know. It’s always okay. If you want to know what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. Do it. You can be in my head if you want.”
Lucas didn’t hesitate, just let go of his already tenuous control, a harsh groan falling from his lips as deep drugging waves sucked him under until he was just pure sensation. He could never explain the spine tingling, toe curling euphoria that glowed hot along every fucking nerve ending. He was being fucked and, somehow, fucking at the same time. A three way between two people.
He could feel the primal, near feral possessiveness August felt as he drove into him as much as he could feel the actual pleasure coursing through August as he chased his release. A release that would have him emptying himself in Lucas’s body. He could feel how much that thought excited August and therefore excited Lucas, too. The intimacy of the experience made his chest tight and his cock ache, overwhelming every part of him.
August was close, so close. Lucas could feel it like a coil winding tighter and tighter inside him, could hear it in August’s sharp breaths and feel it in the spikes of pleasure peaking through him, the way he held him tighter and buried his face against Lucas’s throat.
August’s hips fell off rhythm and then he was coming hard, spilling inside Lucas, both of them giving harsh shouts as August’s teeth sank into the tender flesh of Lucas’s shoulder.
August shivered on top of him for a moment before slipping free of his body and rolling him over, clearly intent on taking care of him, unaware that he already had. His brows shot up in surprise as he saw Lucas’s spent cock. “Did you…”
He’d come untouched, somehow taking August’s pleasure as his own. “Yeah, who knew that was even possible.”
August kissed him deep, licking into his mouth. “That’s so fucking hot.”
Lucas chuckled, suddenly exhausted in his bones. “I’m glad you think so.”
“You can’t fall asleep. You haven’t eaten,” August chastised.
Lucas’s lids were at half-mast, his words slurred, brain sluggish.“I’ll eat tomorrow…”
Whatever August said was lost on Lucas as he was already being dragged down into a deep sleep.
August was up early, per usual. He did his time on the treadmill, then took a shower, smiling when he saw Lucas hadn’t moved an inch. He was still on his back, naked, arms thrown up over his head like he’d surrendered to sleep, snoring deeply. After yesterday, he’d clearly needed the rest.
Once August dried off, he carefully settled over him, kissing his slack mouth. Lucas didn’t even open his eyes, just his legs, letting August settle between them, wrapping his arms around August’s neck. He let Lucas feel how hard he was. He moaned at the sensation of August’s hard cock against his own.
“Morning,” Lucas rasped against August’s ear. “You smell good.”
“So do you,” August promised, burying his face against Lucas’s neck to rock against him with intention.
“I sincerely doubt that,” Lucas countered, opening his legs wider to get August closer, as if letting him know he was on board with whatever they were doing.
“Did you sleep okay?” August asked, continuing the slow roll of his hips.
“Yeah, I can’t remember the last time I slept so hard.” Lucas brought his legs up to hook around August’s thighs, heels brushing the backs of his legs with each lazy movement.
If this was what having a person of his own felt like, August could see why Adam was so protective of Noah. August couldn’t get enough of Lucas. He was warm and sexy and—despite his claims—smelled incredible. Just his scent drove August crazy. “I like you in my bed,” he managed, hating that he couldn’t better articulate how much of an understatement that was.
“I like me in your bed, too,” Lucas said, breath hitching as he rose up to meet August’s downward motion. He ground himself against Lucas, harder this time, just to hear his low moan. “Mm, fuck. Do that again.”
August chuckled, gently tugging on Lucas’s earlobe, repeating the motion. “Like that?”
“Just like that,” Lucas gasped, his words almost a plea.
August captured his mouth in a kiss that lingered, his arms coming around Lucas’s shoulders to hold him steady as they lazily worked against each other. “Do you have classes this morning?” August asked against his lips.
“One this afternoon. You?” Lucas asked.
“I have one this morning and another this afternoon, but I’ll have my TA teach it. Let’s just stay in bed all morning.”
“We can’t. Can we?” Lucas asked, breathless but hopeful.
“Oh, we definitely can.”
After that, there wasn’t any more talking. There was nothing frantic about their movements until they were moving faster, panting harder, working against each other until they came one after the other.
Even then, they made no effort to move. August lay collapsed on Lucas, cum drying uncomfortably on their skin. He definitely needed another shower, but he was just going to bask in the afterglow a little bit longer, then talk Lucas into joining him.
“Do you want to order breakfast in?”
“Meh,” Lucas said. “Let’s just stop by Cricket’s on the way to class later. I don’t want to move.”
August’s phone began to chirp and vibrate along the side table. He groaned, extending his arm to snag it, swiping to answer without looking. “Yeah?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “Are you okay?” Calliope asked. “You sound out of breath. Did I catch you on the treadmill?”
August could feel Lucas shaking with laughter beneath him. “Yeah. Just finished. What’s up?”
“Kohn arrived at work, so he’s not out murdering any helpless women. But that guy you asked me to look into last night, Devon Nicholls, I got the info you asked for.”
“Go ahead,” August said, rolling off Lucas when he gently pressed a hand to his chest.
Calliope made a terse sound before saying, “So, this guy is the opposite of clean. He’s been in and out of jail since he was twelve years old. Started with petty crimes, shoplifting, boosting cars, then he graduated to bigger stuff, like assault, domestic violence, and arson. He appears to be part of some street racing gang, which I didn’t know was a thing. An offshoot of the Aryan Brotherhood. And we all know how great those guys are. But he and his little band of thugs are local, involved in everything from drug dealing to gun running. And they are super unapologetic about it, if their social media accounts are anything to go by.”
“So, why is a Nazi gangbanger driving the car of a squeaky clean Russian import/export guy, and why is he meeting with Kohn in the middle of the night?” Lucas asked loud enough for Calliope to hear.
“Oh,” Calliope said, as if putting the pieces together. Her tone perked up at Lucas’s presence. “ Morning, Lucas.”
“Morning,” Lucas said, a small smile forming on his lips when August rolled his eyes. Calliope treated Noah like that as well. Like they were instantly a new addition to their little ‘people with feelings’ clique.
“As to your question, my guess is Mr. Russian isn’t as clean as he wants the world to think he is. These guys usually like to keep themselves six degrees from the action,” Calliope said. “They usually pay well, though, and Devon Nicholl’s has a lot of money going in and out of his accounts despite not having paid taxes in years.”
“That’s a dangerous game,” August said.
“Nah, federal time is a country club to these types. They’re just as comfortable in jail as out. But what does that have to do with Kohn being a serial killer?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know…yet.” Calliope continued to type as she talked. “But Nicholls has a bunch of sock puppet accounts.”
“Sock puppet accounts?” August echoed.
“Dozens and dozens of fake online identities. Some of them are taking me pretty far down the rabbit hole of the darknet. I’m going through them all looking for any kind of slip up. These douchebags eventually get lazy. Hopefully, I’ll find something to connect the two.”
August looked at the sudden worry etched on Lucas’s face, squeezing his thigh before saying, “Let me know when you do.”
As soon as they disconnected, August rolled towards Lucas, dropping his head on his chest. “I swear, sometimes, it’s like she’s speaking another language.”
Lucas’s hand found its way into August’s hair, scratching blunt nails over his scalp in a way that had him pushing up into his fingers like a cat. He never liked touching, but he couldn’t get enough of Lucas’s hands on him.
“Why don’t you just read a book on coding and become a master hacker in an afternoon?” Lucas asked. “Then you’ll speak her language.”
August smiled. “It’s already too crowded in my head. Besides, I still haven’t figured out this whole love language thing. It’s confusing. And that’s coming from somebody who learned to speak Russian in a week.”
Lucas’s heartbeat accelerated beneath August’s ear. “You don’t have to keep stressing over my love language, whatever that is. You seem to speak fluent me.”
August shook his head vehemently. “I don’t, though. That’s the problem. I am not like Adam or Atticus. My autism makes it impossible for me to pick up on the context clues like they do. That’s why people think I’m…weird. I need a book, a manual, a guide. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You’re not screwing this up,” Lucas assured him. “I’ve… I’ve never in my life felt as comfortable as I do around you. Do you know what it’s like to live in constant fear of touching people? It’s exhausting. I don’t have to be afraid with you. There are no deep, dark secrets.”
August dropped a kiss on Lucas’s chest. “I just want to make you happy.”
“Why?” Lucas asked.
August frowned at the abrupt question. “What?”
“Why do you care so much about screwing this up? Psychopaths can’t love, can’t form love matches. Wouldn’t you forget me eventually or, at least, become indifferent?”
August hated the strange shock of fear that rocketed through him at the thought. It wasn’t said with any malice, more an academic curiosity with a tinge of anxiety.
Still, the thought of losing Lucas was something August couldn’t quantify. “I would never forget you. And I certainly wouldn’t become indifferent. I’ve spent just a few days with you and the thought of not seeing you every day is… It makes it hard to breathe.” August swallowed hard, squeezing Lucas tighter. “You can’t leave.”
Lucas gave a heavy sigh, and then his lips were brushing the top of his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“Ever,” August said bluntly.
Another kiss landed on his head. “I’m right here.”
Silence stretched between them for a long time before Lucas asked, “Did you really learn Russian in a week?”
“I learned to speak it in a week. Mastering writing it and speaking it conversationally took me almost a month.”
There was another long pause before Lucas pressed, “Why Russian?”
August shrugged. “When I was nine, I became obsessed with Tolstoy. I wanted to read his works in his native tongue.”
“You wanted to read Tolstoy at nine?” Lucas said, voice filled with wonder.
“I had already read Tolstoy. I wanted to read it again, in Russian.”
Lucas snorted. “Wait? Didn’t Tolstoy write in English?”
August smiled at that, tipping his head slightly to look up to where Lucas reclined on his pillow. It was so nice talking with somebody who cared about these things. “Yes. Tolstoy was a polyglot like me. He spoke English, French, and German, in addition to Russian. But he could read in a dozen other languages. I just fixated on this idea that I should read his books in Russian. I get hung up on these thoughts sometimes, and I can’t let them go until I’ve done it. So…Russian.”
“Is that why you have a degree in Russian Literature?”
August smiled. “No. I have a degree in Russian Literature because my father said I needed to look more well-rounded. To look like I had interests outside of the hard sciences.”
Lucas snickered this time. “So, you thought you’d just minor in Russian literature. You couldn’t just take, like, a film class or something?”
August shrugged, putting Lucas’s hand back onto his head, hoping he would get the message. “I spoke Russian. It seemed easy enough.”
His lids fluttered as Lucas’s fingers once more began to comb through his hair.
“Did you really get inducted into MENSA when you were six?”
August hesitated before saying, “No.”
Lucas’s fingers paused. “No?”
August sighed. “No. I was four. My father told people I was six.”
Lucas’s fingers slowed. “Why? Wouldn’t that have been more impressive at four?”
“It’s a long, convoluted story, most of which isn’t mine to tell.”
Lucas’s fingers went back to scraping over August’s scalp. “I have time. Tell me what you can?”
August only hesitated for a moment. “My father is like me in a lot of ways. He came from an…unstable home environment. Only, when they learned he was gifted, they brought in tutors to homeschool him, locked him away from his friends and siblings so he wasn’t distracted from his studies, used him to impress their rich friends. He was attending college in Scotland when they died. He was fourteen.”
Lucas curled in closer. “What does that have to do with your age?”
“Thomas had his doctorate before he was old enough to drink. He was obsessed with psychology, like you. When he met a woman doing groundbreaking research on sociopaths, he wanted to test her theories, wanted to know if there was a way to…fix people like me. But he knew, to do that, he’d have to have total control over our environment like she had, and no review board was going to give approval of a study like that. And he didn’t want us to feel like we were growing up as actual science projects. He wanted us to feel…supported, to have the affection he never got.”
“Makes sense,” Lucas said, though his tone was hesitant, like it didn’t entirely make sense.
“As you can imagine, no adoption agency was going to hand a bunch of damaged children to a man who was barely more than a child himself. So, he went about it through slightly shadier means. His money bought him access to people who had an interest in his research and who also weren’t fond of committee oversight. Kids disappear from the system all the time. My father helped us reappear without questions.”
“So, how old are you, really?”
August shrugged. “Thirty, I think. Maybe thirty-one. I never knew my actual birthday.”
“Do you remember anything about your original family?”
August nodded. “That’s the curse of an eidetic memory. I remember everything. My mom was…very sick. She was schizophrenic. She thought I was some kind of supernatural creature because I was far too advanced for my age.”
“She was unmedicated?”
August ran a finger over Lucas’s belly. “I imagine so. She was truly afraid of me. That much was obvious. She felt bad about it. She didn’t want to hurt me. She just feared me. She gave me books and food, a lamp to read by, but other than that, she tried to forget I existed. Sometimes, I could hear her sobbing outside my door.”
