Finding North (12 page)

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Got nothing to say,” North says. That stings like a bitch.

“Right. You fuck me and I make you come, and then you disappear for two days and you have nothing to say.”

“Jesus, Will,” he says, and tosses the hose to the ground. He grabs my shirt and fists it, drawing me closer to him. “What the fuck do you want me to say? Huh? What the hell am I supposed to tell you?”

I’m thrown off by the venom in his voice, but I know this kid. When he’s hurt or confused, his default is to want to beat the shit outta someone, and when I’m the one making him feel that way, it’s a thousand times worse. He’s rattled and out of his depth, and I can see the need, the desperation in his eyes.

“You wanna beat the shit outta me, North? Will that make you feel better? Make you feel more like a man?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did,” I say. A normal guy couldn’t get away with provoking North, but I’m not a normal guy.

“Keep your fucking voice down,” he sneers, releasing me with a shove. I don’t back up. I don’t draw away or shove him back, I just stand there. He runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus. What the fuck are we doing here?”

“You tell me,” I say, and North glares. He reaches out, and draws me closer, until we’re breathing the same air. His hand fists my shirt again, and his lips come crashing down on mine, his tongue searching, probing. I meet his anger head-on, shoving my hands up his shirt, needing to feel his skin beneath my palms, laid bare and ready for me to explore.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. The way you jacked me off, the way you taste,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. “The way you felt when I pushed inside you.”

“I haven’t been able to think straight for two days.” I nip at his bottom lip, his chin, along his jaw. “It’s why I came to see you.”

“We can’t do this here,” he pants.

“I know,” I say, afraid he’s going to tell me to go home. Afraid he’ll take away this feeling with a few simple words that slice like daggers.

“The boatshed,” he says. “Come on.”

I let him lead me into the abandoned shed down the wharf, and he lets go of my hand when we clear the slip, in case his dad comes back early.

North pulls me inside. The entire shed spans the space no bigger than his lounge room, which is tiny. He slams me up against the worn wooden wall and kisses me. His hand slides down my stomach to cup the bulge in my pants. I groan and plunge my tongue into his mouth, savouring his taste, his need. I can’t remember ever wanting anyone this much, and as he strokes my cock through the fabric of my jeans, I can’t believe I spent all this time cowering behind my secret when I could have been touching him.

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” he says, breaking the kiss. I thrust my hips against his hand, causing him to squeeze me tighter.

“You have me,” I pant, kissing his chin, his jaw, and finally snagging his earlobe between my teeth. “Fucking take me, North.”

He groans and unfastens my fly, shoving his hand inside my pants and pulling out my erection. I do the same with him. Pushing down his boardies, I fist his cock and stroke my hand up and down his shaft, cupping his balls with my free hand. He rubs his cock against mine in a sideways motion and I glance down at them. It’s incredibly hot, but it’s kind of funny too.

“Lightsabre fight?” I say.

North laughs, maybe a little too loudly, and then when he sees that I’m serious he grabs his cock and says in his best Darth Vader impersonation, “The force is strong with this one.”

We beat each other with our cocks, running around the shed like monkeys with their dicks out, swinging from the salt-ravaged exposed beams, and then when he finally catches up to me, he pins me against the wall and kisses the stupid from my thoughts.

I reach down between us and take both of our dicks in my hand, stroking from the base of his to the tip of mine. North lets his head fall back with a groan. He backs up to the wooden dingy and plants his arse firmly on the hull of the upside-down boat.

“Fuck. I gotta get inside. Come ’ere,” he says, reaching out a hand toward me. I don’t argue, and I’ve never been about playing hard to get. Not with him. I take off his shirt and then my own, needing to feel every inch of his skin upon mine, and I straddle his waist. He spits on his hand and slips it between us, rubbing saliva over his pink head and pushing against me, teasing my arsehole. All of my nerve endings come alive.

“I’m gonna need to start carrying lube with me from now on,” he mutters.

“Tell me about it; it’s my fucking arse you’re ramming,” I say, lifting my hips to allow him better access.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’m gonna blow my load all over you and you’ll be walking home covered in my jizz.”

In an ideal world, wearing another man’s jizz isn’t, well … ideal, but the thought of him coming all over me makes my dick harder than nails. North rubs his erection over my entrance and I bear down as he eases inside. It hurts, because a little bit of saliva doesn’t go a long way in this case, but when he’s settled firmly inside me and he brushes up against my prostate, I’m ready to blow my fucking load all over the boatshed.

“Go slowly, or I’m gonna lose it,” I warn.

“I can’t.” North’s lips find mine, his tongue thrusts inside, and he grinds into me, circling his hips rather than plunging in and out. I rock against him and we slip into a steady rhythm. It’s unhurried, but no less intense than when he’d fucked me a few days ago. Slowly, he strokes me from base to tip, and my orgasm snakes up my spine, threatening to burst free. I draw my mouth away from his and pant, “Oh fuck. I’m gonna come.”

“So fucking come, Will.” North takes hold of my hips, rocking me faster in his lap. “Jesus. Fuck. Come on my cock.”

I fist my dick and all it takes is one pump, and I’m doing just that, painting his stomach in come as my sphincter clenches tightly around North, pulling his orgasm from him. Hot semen jets into me, making his thrust a little smoother, and I jerk my cock again while he rides out the high.

“Jesus,” North pants as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and holds me close. His other hand is between us, pressed to my chest, right over my heart. “You’re the only one who can make me come that hard.”

I nod, and I want to tell him that it’s the same for me, but the point is moot because I’m sure he already knows. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

“North!” The slurred voice sends shivers down my spine. By the sounds of it he’s some distance away, but the possibility of getting caught is still terrifying enough to propel us into action.

“Fuck. Dad’s back.” He pulls out and I climb from his lap, yanking up my pants despite the mess. North has the sense to grab an old rag hanging on a hook by the workbench and he mops himself up before tossing it into the water. He tugs his board shorts up strong, muscular thighs and collects our shirts from the ground, hurriedly putting his on. He holds onto mine though, his gaze rakes over my torso, lingers on my piercings as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He balls up the fabric and stuffs it down his pants.

“Gimme my shirt, you dick.” I hiss quietly. With a cocky grin he pulls it out and lobs it at me. There’s a wet spot on the shirt sleeve. It’s sticky with residual come.
Arsehole
.

Rob Underwood can still be heard shouting his son’s name, but now he’s even louder. The cloying scent of sex hangs on the air. I glance down at myself, and then over at him. Rumpled clothes, messy hair and flushed faces. We both look like we just had the shit fucked out of us. “Shit.”

“Coming!” North yells. He glances at me, and I hold my hands up because I don’t know what he wants me to do.

“Hide?”

“What the fuck? Where am I gonna hide?”

“Never mind. Just stay in here until I’ve gone,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss me. His tongue pushes into my mouth and I run my hands through his hair as I kiss him back. He presses his forehead to mine and grins, and then he’s gone. My lips burn long after. I flatten my fingers to them and smile. Outside, North tells his dad he was just taking a break and that he didn’t hear him calling at first.

I wait until I can no longer hear them and I slip out of the boatshed, then I practically glide the entire way home.

I
can’t remember the last time I felt truly at peace, but leaning against Will’s kitchen counter with his body weight pressing into my back, his hand flat against my chest, and his cock softening inside me, I know peace. Strange then, that I also know torment. I shouldn’t break the silence, but I can’t help it. I have questions that are burning holes in my skull and I have to know.

“Leave me something so I know that this isn’t all just in my goddamn head.”

“Will, what did you mean?” I ask. He stiffens, and then slides free of my body. I grunt with the new sensation, and my lagging cock perks up again. Will takes a step back as he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin. My gaze follows him as he moves around the tiny kitchenette where he washes his hands in the sink and glares up at me.

“Answer me.” I say, because it’s apparent that he won’t.

“Nothing.”

“Will,” I warn.

“I gave you what you wanted, so unless you want to go another round, get the fuck out.”

“Fuck you, arsehole.”

“I have an early morning, and you have … whatever fucking bimbo is waiting on your doorstep.”

“Can we cut the bullshit for a minute?”

“There isn’t any bullshit between us.” He laughs humourlessly. “There isn’t anything between us. You came here for a quick, hard fuck, and I gave it to you.”

“I know you, Will,” I say through my teeth. “Just like you know me.”

“You don’t know me at all,” he sneers. “You might have once, but you lost that right a long time ago.”

“I was a terrified kid. I fucked up,” I yell and stalk toward him, but he backs away.

Will looks about ready to punch my lights out, and the feeling is fucking mutual. I ball my hands into fists at my sides, and Will steps his right foot back as though he’s anticipating me knocking him on his arse. I stand in front of him and reach up to grab his neck, but he mistakes my movements and immediately goes on the defensive, smacking my hand out of the way and glancing a blow to the corner of my mouth. My cheek smarts as pain radiates its way up my face to my temple.

My eyes narrow, and I let out a surprised laugh. “You wanna hit me?”

Will’s mouth curls into a hungry grin. “Yeah, I kinda do.”

“Come on then. I know you can do better than that.”

He licks his lips. My own tongue darts out to collect the drop of blood gathered at the corner of my mouth. Will lunges and I parry, smacking him upside the jaw with an uppercut the way he just did to me. He hisses, pressing his thumb to his bleeding lip, and takes a step back. His gaze is murderous, but there’s also something beneath it—humour.

“From fucking to fighting. Just like old times, huh?” he says, caustically.

“Looks like,” I agree.

“Only we never fought; you just walked away.”

I drop my guard and nod. “I hurt you. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’re so fucking angry? That’s why you walk around this town with a chip on your shoulder the size of fucking Tasmania? It’s because I broke your heart and you never recovered.”

“Fuck you,” Will says, and I know I’ve hit home because his defences are up again, and I don’t even see the second he takes a step towards me and lashes out. I feel it when his fist connects to my face, though. I stumble back a few paces, absorbing the blow rather than letting it take me down. It hurts like a motherfucker.

“You wanna hurt me some more, Will? Go right ahead. I deserve it, after all. I deserve it after what I did to you. If it’s gonna make you feel better, hit me all you want, get it out of your system, but do it now because you won’t get this opportunity again.”

He’s so close that I can taste the fear and the rage on his breath. Fear and rage, they have a scent. So does desire, and even as he swings his arm back to hit me again, he exudes that last one more than the others. I block his next blow and pull him into me until our chests slam against one another, and then I grab him by the back of the neck and kiss him hard, until his spit and blood mingles with my own, and I can taste both and differentiate between the two.