Pulling his legs back as ordered, Jimmy grabbed behind his knees. It felt dirty to display himself like this, his face burning hot as Cold gazed approvingly down at him.
Cold rubbed the head of his cock around Jimmy’s open hole. “Beautiful...” He moved his other hand up over Jimmy’s lean stomach, his thumb grazing his belly button as he traveled up to press his palm against his throat. His fingers began to tighten. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Jimmy sighed, his body offering no resistance.
Cold squeezed enough to make Jimmy gasp, his cock thrusting into him in one fluid slam. Tears in his eyes as Cold fucked him ruthlessly, Jimmy whimpered. Cold was punishing him now, making Jimmy cry out and scream, the brutal snap of their bodies cracking like a whip. But even though Jimmy couldn’t explain it, the way Cold held his throat didn’t scare him at all.
He trusted Cold completely, and Cold never applied enough pressure to restrict Jimmy’s breathing. It made him feel safe somehow, every sensation a hundred times more intense, and he loved how possessively Cold’s fingers would curl when Jimmy moaned particularly loudly.
Cold shrugged one of Jimmy’s legs up over his shoulder, leaning over him and fucking with long, deep thrusts. The angle was so good, too good, Jimmy scrambling to reach down and grab his cock to stop himself from coming. He ached all over, overstimulated and raw, and sobbed loudly as he denied himself release.
“Good boy,” Cold said proudly. He let go of Jimmy’s throat, both of his hands latching onto his narrow hips as he worked their bodies together. His movements were more passionate now, less cruel, making sure every sound that left Jimmy’s lips was a cry of pleasure.
Jimmy gave himself over completely, smiling as he let Cold move him however he wanted. Cold was looking down at him with that same awestruck expression he’d had when he was listening to Jimmy sing. His entire face was softer, his eyes lighter, and all the years melted right off of him.
Jimmy had to touch him. He had to. Fingers shaking, he reached out, lightly tracing over Cold’s cheekbone. To his amazement, Cold didn’t smack him away. His eyes closed halfway, lost somewhere, only to snap open a moment later and gaze down at Jimmy with an intensity that took his breath away. He had slowed down to nearly a crawl, but each thrust still wreaked a low moan from Jimmy’s lips.
Braver still, Jimmy cupped Cold’s cheek with his palm, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”
The emotions that suddenly broke out over Cold’s face were startling. Hurt, anger, indignation, all in a quick flash that left his icy eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parting as if to speak.
But he suddenly froze, his head snapping around to glare over his shoulder as he drew his gun from under his jacket. “Someone had better be fuckin’ dead!”
“Well, someone hopefully will be soon,” came the smooth and deranged voice of Francis Von Valdemar, punctuating his words with a loud giggle. Thirdsies was with him, both leering at the spectacular situation they saw before them as they walked out onto the stage.
Jimmy bolted upright, trying to hide himself behind Cold as much as possible. He grabbed onto the front of Cold’s vest, wishing he could bury himself in it. The Gentlemen were at least maintaining a respectful distance, but it didn’t make Jimmy feel much better about being seen like this.
Cold hadn’t even taken off his jacket.
“We’re so sorry to interrupt, Cold,” Valdemar said with a humble bow, lecherously smirking. “Especially while you’re... hmmm. While you’re...”
“Tickling the ivories?” Thirdsies suggested, grinning wide.
“Ooo, that’s good, son,” Valdemar agreed, giggling like mad.
They’re both crazy, Jimmy thought. Neither one of them seemed the least bit concerned that Cold had a loaded gun pointed at them, continuing to snicker and guffaw at their terrible joke.
Cold growled, his voice eerily calm as he hissed, “You have twenty seconds to tell me why you’re here.”
“Oh! Right! Well, you said not to interrupt you—” Valdemar began.
“Unless it was an emergency!” Thirdsies added, beaming proudly.
“And we agreed that this definitely qualified,” Valdemar exclaimed passionately.
“Spit it out,” Cold growled, his aim zeroed right in on Valdemar’s forehead. “Fifteen seconds...”
Jimmy was impressed Cold’s erection hadn’t faltered, but before Valdemar and Thirdsies could get out what was actually going on, he sensed someone staring at him. It made the little hairs on the back of his neck jump to attention, and he turned his head to see Rufus Corman standing behind him on the other side of the stage.
Corman stared unabashedly at Jimmy with a nasty smile, and while he couldn’t see much from the angle he was at, Jimmy could still feel his skin trying to crawl right off his bones. Corman’s nose was bandaged and one of his eyes was swollen and black; Cold really had beat the hell out of him.
No one had ever looked at him with such hatred and disgusting intent. It made Jimmy feel sick. He pressed against Cold, feeling him tense, but he didn’t push Jimmy away.
“Larry, Curly, and Moe are all here,” Valdemar exclaimed finally, eyes wide as if this was exciting news. “Here in Strassen Springs. Right now.”
Jimmy was certain it was another stupid joke, terrified that he was about to see Valdemar get shot right in the face, but Cold’s upper lip twitched. He lowered his gun, tucking it back into the holster under his jacket. “How long?”
“Larry and Curly have been here since yesterday apparently,” Thirdsies supplied quickly. “Moe just got here tonight.”
