The next morning, just two and a half hours after he’d gone to bed, John woke up to his alarm blaring at him from his bedside table telling him that he had to get up and get to work.
He tried to hit the off button, reaching toward the horrible sound with his hand, but he misjudged the position of his arm relative to the clock and ended up knocking it to the floor—where it just kept ringing.
Crawling out of bed, John bent down and shut the blasted alarm off and sat back down on the mattress. His hole ached with the familiar pain of being recently fucked, every move making him wince, but John paid it no mind.
He was so fucking tired.
Scratching his chin, John spent a few seconds debating whether or not he should just call in sick. As tired as he was he wouldn’t be much use out on the highway, and worst case scenario his drowsiness might cause an accident.
It was better to call in than to risk it, he decided. Besides, John had never called in sick before. As long as he didn’t make a habit of it he should be fine.
Looking around for his phone, John frowned when he didn’t see it in its usual position on the dresser. He usually left it there, plugged into its charger. He must have forgotten to take it out of his pocket the night before, or maybe even left it in the storage box of his bike.
He really hoped it wasn’t the latter.
John pushed himself off his mattress and started looking, going first to the closet to check his coat before heading into the kitchen. He was relieved to see his phone lying on the counter next to a half empty glass of water. If it hadn’t been there, John would have had to go all the way down into the parking garage to look for it.
John picked up the phone and called into work, explaining that he wasn’t feeling well and that he wouldn’t be coming in today. Once that was done, he crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up under his chin.
He smiled into his pillow, hardly able to believe the night he’d had.
After the first round of fun Carter had fucked him over the desk, pounding his ass until he saw stars, and after that John had spent close to an hour on his back on the floor inside the cell, Carter squatting over him and letting him eat out his ass while he jerked off.
It had beenmagnificent.
Just the memory had John’s cock tenting his sheets, but when he reached down to touch it he winced at how sore he was. Not just his hole, which was to be expected, but his actualcock. The skin of his shaft was rubbed raw, his hour long and very rough jerkoff session obviously having taken its toll.
John dropped his shaft and shifted onto his back, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling. The night with Carter had been one of the best he’d ever had, and by the time they’d ended up on the couch in the lounge John had felt like they were connecting on a level he’d never felt before.
Then John thought about the way Carter had said goodbye and he frowned. It had been obvious that Carter was pulling away—no doubt part of the ‘no attachments’ thing he’d talked about the first night they’d met—except he hadn’t seemed happy about it.
He probably wanted to make a connection; he just couldn’t because of his pack. The thought made John sad, and it served to renew his anger at Luke and the rest of the pack.
Before he could think about it too long, however, John’s eyesdroopedshut and he drifted off to sleep.
***
John woke up five hours later to someone knocking on the door of his apartment. It took him a few seconds to wake up. He pulled on a pair of briefs and a t-shirt and went to answer the door.
He wondered who it could be, hoping that it wasn’t a salesman or a religious person come to preach at him.
Opening the door, John found Mike standing in his doorway holding a container of soup from the takeout place around the corner. He was in uniform, and as John watched he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket.
“I heard you were sick, so I brought you soup,” Mike said, tilting his head and looking John up and down. “Though you don’t look very sick.”
“I just had a long night and didn’t get any sleep. Figured it was best to call in and stay home.”
“But you’re feeling better now?” Mike asked, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. He kept John at an arm’s length away. “You’re not contagious or anything, are you?”
“No, I wasn’t sick. I was just up late. Thanks for bringing me soup, though. That was nice of you.”
Mike handed him the container, shrugging. “You weren’t answering your cell, so I got worried.”
John motioned for Mike to follow him into the kitchen, putting the soup down on the counter and reaching for his phone. When he tried to turn it on the screen stayed black, not even the low battery icon flashing on the screen.
“I forgot to charge it last night,” John said, sliding it into his pocket. He’d plug it into the charger first thing when he went back to the bedroom. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. I was in your area, anyway.” Mike leaned against the counter, crossing his boots as he looked around John’s small kitchen. “So what were you doing last night?”
