He was tired and frustrated, and his nerves were twisted so tightly he could feel his skin scraping against them. Fucking was a good way to unwind. Food was a good way to apologize for the “one good idea” crack without actually having to do the grunt work of regret. So why not?
HE DIDfeel a bit bad for waking Cloister up. After all, Javi was the one who told him to go home and get some rest. Yet there he was, hammering on the tin side of the box until Cloister rolled out of bed and answered the door. Javi probably would have felt worse, but his cock demanded a lot of his attention.
Cloister leaned one arm against the door and knuckled a yawn off his mouth with his free hand. His hair was bedhead scruffy, and all he was wearing was a pair of faded boxers he hadn’t noticed he’d pulled on backward. There was a layer of sweat clinging to his skin, caught in the smooth dips of muscle and asymmetrical knots of scar tissue over his ribs. His black ink looked very dark in the dim light.
“Did something happen?” he asked. His voice was raspy with sleep, but he didn’t sound foggy or as though he were struggling to wake up. Just tired. “Did the kidnapper respond to Billy?”
“Not yet,” Javi said. He held up the bag of food. It wasn’t quite as hot as when he started, but it still smelled good. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Cloister picked the sleep out of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “What time is it?”
Javi looked up at the black, star-freckled sky and then back to Cloister. “Morning?” he said.
That got him a snort, and Cloister stepped back from the door to let him in. The trailer was dimly lit by moonlight through the uncovered windows. From the tangle of blankets—and the black dog slowly stretching out into the available space—it looked like Cloister had been sleeping on the couch. The place smelled vaguely of wet dog and strongly of sweaty man. Not a smell Javi would want to live with, but he couldn’t deny the tug it sent through his stomach.
“Do you even have a bed?” he asked.
Cloister turned on the lights, which made Bourneville whine and shove her nose under a sheet.
“I know you don’t eat in bed, Javi,” he said as he held his hand out for the food.
He didn’t. It was disgusting. Javi handed over the bag of food and watched as Cloister unpacked, unwrapped, and set the tacos out on paper plates. Of course he had paper plates. Javi didn’t know why he expected anything else.
His balls were aching and heavy, and lust poked at the back of his brain, but he kind of liked watching Cloister move. It was all economy of motion and no notion of self-consciousness.
“The firefighter whose kid went missing,” Javi said. “He retired the year before, opened his own construction company.”
Cloister raised his eyebrows and pushed Javi’s share of tacos and a glass of soda toward him. “Damn. Guess they get paid better than deputies. Maybe I picked the wrong career.”
Right then the only thing Javi was hungry for was tawny skin and the salt-sweet tang of sex. His stomach, on the other hand, growled until he picked up a taco. The first absentminded bite reminded him he hadn’t had anything to eat since a snatched sandwich at lunchtime.
“He’s doing well,” he said. He picked up one of the napkins that came with the order, folded it, and wiped tidily at the corners of his mouth. “Does a lot of work for Utkin.”
“It always comes back to the Utkins,” Cloister said.
There was a soft thud behind Javi. He glanced around. The black sprawl of Bourneville was gone from the makeshift bed. He looked down into soulful brown eyes and a dangling pink tongue. Bourneville wagged her tail slowly without taking her attention off Javi’s face.
“Your dog wants something,” Javi said uncomfortably as he shifted sideways on the stool.
“Okay, you didn’t have a dog. But did your parents not let you watch movies about dogs?” Cloister asked. He made it sound like a flaw, but Javi didn’t think there was actually anything in the dog-POV film oeuvre he was missing out on. “She wants your taco, but she’s not getting any.”
“Is it bad for her?”
“I live in a tin box,” Cloister said. “Feeding the dog spicy food would be bad for everyone.”
He picked up his taco and cupped one hand under it as he lifted it to his mouth. It was weirdly distracting to watch him eat. Or maybe not. Cloister did have a nice mouth. By the time he dragged his attention back to his plate, he’d absently eaten another taco. He brushed the crumbs from his fingers and glanced at Cloister.
“So I’ve bought you dinner,” he said as he leaned back and gave Cloister a lazy up and down. “Now it’s time for you to put out.”
Cloister leaned over the counter and curled a hand around Javi’s neck. He pulled Javi into a kiss. Yes, Javi decided, Cloister definitely had a nice mouth. He caught the lower lip of that nice mouth between his teeth and bit down hard enough to make Cloister hiss, and then he laved the pinch with his tongue.
Cloister pulled back and dabbed his tongue at the red graze on his lower lip.
“Does that mean we’re dating?” he asked, all earnest curiosity.
Brief panic bloomed in Javi’s stomach. It faded when Cloister’s smirk got away from him and conjured up a shadow of those ridiculous dimples. Javi shook his head.
“Shut up,” he told Cloister. “And this time the dog doesn’t get to watch.”
