On the Streets of New Orleans (7 page)

“Oh yeah, man. Forgot about that.” Tony scratched his chest.

“At the shelter we had alarm clocks.”

“I got a watch in my jeans.” Tony rolled to the side and came back up with his pants. He dug in the pocket and pulled something out, then handed it to Scott and flopped back, rolling over onto his belly and burying his face in his pillow.

In the dark, Scott could feel the round face of the watch, but only one side had a strap. He held it up to his face and squinted.

“This is no good. I can’t see a thing, man,” Scott complained. “If I’m late again, Miss Tiffany will have my ass in a sling.”

Tony sighed. “Here, give it.” He took the watch, pressed a button, and the dial glowed. Then he pushed it back into Scott’s hands.

“Cool!” Scott hit the button, the face lit. “Three o’clock.” He exhaled, relieved he had plenty of time.

“Do we have to get up now?” Tony’s muffled voice came from the side of the bed.

“You don’t, but I need to get up in a little bit.”

“Good.” Tony reached out, grabbed Scott, and pulled him to his side.

Scott curled against Tony as those strong arms wrapped around him. Tony sniffled into his neck, his breath puffing warm against Scott’s skin.

“Mmmm, you smell good, Scott.” Tony licked a line from Scott’s neck to his shoulder, and Scott shuddered.

Scott backed up closer to Tony, pressing his butt against Tony’s crotch. A thick, hard cock speared its way into the crack of Scott’s ass, and Scott rubbed up and down on it.

“Shit, boy, you gonna make me come.” Tony groaned. “How much time you say we got?”

“Enough.” Scott bumped back again.

Tony moved his hips back and forth, sliding his cock along the valley between the firm globes of Scott’s bottom, and then reached around and took hold of Scott’s dick.

“God, that feels so good.” Scott sighed with contentment.

They took their time, rubbing and stroking, Tony’s kisses traveling over Scott’s shoulders and neck, his tongue searching Scott’s ear, his jaw, until Scott shifted, turned his face toward Tony, and their lips met.

Scott opened for Tony’s tongue. Tony filled the opening, delving deeper and deeper into Scott’s mouth, touching teeth, sucking tongue, exploring the roof of his mouth. And all the time, jerking Scott off as he thrust along Scott’s seam.

The pace picked up, and Tony shifted, his cock dropping and now spearing between Scott’s thighs, the head of the thick dick pushing past Scott’s balls. Scott clamped his legs tighter as Tony’s thrusting sped up. The slapping of Scott’s sac against the head of Tony’s cock made a sort of music, along with their moans and sighs.

Tony did all the right things to Scott. He let go of Scott’s cock, spit into his hand, then took a new grasp of the hard, hot flesh. This time his stroking matched the pumping of his cock through Scott’s legs, and together their arousal ramped upward, each hard stroke pushing them higher.

“Gonna come, Scott.” Tony’s harsh breathing sounded so loud in Scott’s ear.

“Me too, Tony, me too.” Scott hung on the edge, caught between the pain of his balls pulled and stretched with each thrust and pleasure as Tony jerked him off, rough hands in a tight circle.

“Here it comes… oh fuck!” Scott froze and shuddered as he came.

Tony cried out, and Scott felt the swell and pulse of Tony’s orgasm under his balls. They shuddered, then Tony wrapped his arms around Scott and pulled him so tight Scott thought he might not breathe.

“Shit, that was fucking good,” Tony muttered.

Scott laughed. “Yeah, you’re right!”

They lay there for a few minutes, then Scott tapped Tony on the arm. “Gotta get going. We need to clean up first.”

With a weary sigh, Tony sat up and threw back the blanket. “Guess we need to get a clock, huh?” He grabbed his jeans from the floor.

“Yeah. I’ll get one today.” Scott picked up his pants, got out of bed, and followed Tony as he led the way to the bathroom.

They cleaned up, changed clothes, and headed to the kitchen. Tony opened the back door, and Scott stopped and looked out on the small backyard.

A cat sat on the fence, amber eyes staring at them.

“That him?”

Tony looked past him. “Yeah, that’s him. I call him Top Cat.”

“Good name.”

“He’s wild as shit. Lives off the mice and rats.”

“That’s good. Keeps them away from here.”

Tony nudged Scott. “Let’s go.”

Scott went down the stairs as Tony locked up and shoved the key in his pocket.

They walked down the alley to the front of the house, checked the street, then climbed over the rubble, crossed the street, and headed to the bus stop.

On Tchoupitoulas, they only had to wait about fifteen minutes for the bus. It lumbered to a stop, the doors opened, and Tony and Scott got on. The bus driver stared at them as if he’d seen a couple of ghosts. Scott paid their fares, and they headed to the middle of the bus and sat.

“You boys stay around here?” The driver glanced into the long rearview mirror that let him see the passengers.

“Yeah.” Tony shrugged. “Why you asking?”

“Cuz nobody never gets on the bus this stretch.” The man pulled the handle and the doors hissed shut.

Scott nodded. “Neighborhood’s coming back.” He elbowed Tony, who just gave him a shy smile. They settled into the seats and Scott watched the streets go by in a slow blur, Tony warm at his side.

Way in the back, an old white guy leaned against a window of the bus as he slept, but he and Tony and Scott were the only riders all the way to Poydras.

“WELL, THANKS
for walking me to work.” Scott shifted his feet as he stood at the entrance to the alley. “Why don’t you come in and have some breakfast? My treat.”

Tony looked into the window, licked his lips, and grinned. “Really?”

“Sure. Best wings and waffles in town.” Scott’s voice took on a tempting tone.

“You cook them?”

“Naw, Miss Tiffany does the cooking. I clean up, wait tables, and pour coffee.” Scott shrugged.

Tony looked inside, his hands fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to Miss Tiffany.” Scott grabbed his hand and pulled Tony down the alley.

They came to a screen door, and Scott opened it. “Come on in.”

Tony stepped inside, hands thrust in his pockets.

“Miss Tiffany?” Scott called out.

Tiffany came out of the pantry, carrying a large box of coffee filters. “Hey, Scotty, how you makin’?” She stopped when she saw Tony. “Who’s this fine young man?” Her eyebrows went up, and she looked him up and down.

“This is Tony. He’s my friend.” Scott smiled and bit his bottom lip, praying Tiffany wouldn’t mind that he’d brought Tony to the back door.

“Welcome, Tony. Any friend of Scott’s a friend of mine.”

“Is it all right if Tony sits out front and has some breakfast?”

Tiffany put down the filters and ripped open the box. “Of course, long as someone’s paying.”

“Great!” Scott dug in his pocket and pulled out some money as he shepherded Tony toward the swinging door to the kitchen. “Here, take this. It should be enough.”

“I got my own money, Scott.” Tony pushed it back and set his jaw.

“I know, but I said it was on me. You can buy me dinner tonight, okay?” Scott looked into Tony’s face, then smiled.

“Okay. Dinner’s on me.” Tony nodded and went through the door.

“Just sit anywhere. I’ll be out in a bit.” Scott closed the door and turned to get the bus cart.

Tiffany stood in the center of the kitchen, hands on her ample hips, grinning bigger than a bear. “That’s your somethin’ special, right? Makin’ you all smilin’ and grinnin’ and happy?”

Fire raced up Scott’s face to the roots of his hair. “Well, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Boy, I can see it in your eyes. See it in his eyes too.” She chuckled and went back to making the next pot of coffee.

Scott got his apron on and pushed the cart out of the kitchen before she said anything else. Behind him, he heard her making kissing sounds, and he thought his face would burst into flames.

TONY LOOKED
up from a menu and laughed, then he ducked his head and pretended to study it. And, oh man, the menu looked so good, with pictures of the food right on it. He knew exactly what he wanted.

A waffle. Golden brown, with extra butter, and plenty of rich, dark cane syrup.

And two wings.

And a cup of coffee.

He licked his lips in anticipation of the meal he’d been dreaming of since the first morning he’d met Scott.

Scott finished cleaning off the tables and pushed the cart into the kitchen, then came back out with a black apron on to take his order.

“A number one, please.” Tony grinned up at his lover.

“Coffee?” Scott asked, pencil poised over the order pad.

“Yes. With cream.”

“Got it.” He tucked the pencil behind his ear, took the menu, and went behind the counter, stuck the sheet on the order wheel, and spun it around for Tiffany.

“Order up!” Scott called out.

Tony watched as Tiffany came to the window, took down the paper, gave him a wink, and disappeared. It made him feel as if he were a part of some secret, part of the place itself.

He was so thankful Miss Tiffany had treated him nice, not like he was ghetto trash. Maybe if she knew how Scott and he had met, it’d be another story. He sobered, not wanting that to happen ever. She looked a little like his grandmother, the kind of woman who would brook no foolishness and demanded honesty.

Scott moved around the place, taking orders, filling coffee, as Tony watched him. Scott had a smile on his face and a good word for everyone, and it filled Tony with pride that this was his man. How in the world he ever deserved someone like Scott, he’d never figure out.

His coffee arrived, with a small metal pot of cream. “Thanks, Scott. It smells so good.” He inhaled and then dumped four sugars in and nearly half the cream.

“Like it sweet?” Scott laughed.

“Sure do.” Tony winked at him, and Scott blushed. It looked good on him, and it tickled Tony that he could make Scott turn that wonderful shade of pink.

“Order out!” Tiffany rang the bell.

Scott went to the window, got the platter, and brought it over to Tony. He sat it on the table and stood back. “Best waffles and wings in town.”

“Mm-mm-mm! I can’t wait!” Tony smeared the butter all over the waffle, then poured the syrup, nearly drowning the golden waffle.

“Man, you do like it sweet! Want some waffle with your syrup?” He chuckled.

Tony took a bite and rolled his eyes. Then he chewed, making soft moans that sent Tiffany, who’d come out of the kitchen, into gales of laughter.

“I loves a man who loves my cookin’, child.”

All he could do was nod, his mouth full of waffle.

Scott moved off, working the room, and Tony grinned up at Tiffany, swallowed, then said, “I think I died and went to heaven, Miss Tiffany!”

“Good Lord, boy! You sure know how to sweet-talk a woman, you sure do.”

“A guy too,” Scott muttered, just loud enough for Tony to hear.

Tony didn’t bother answering. He finished the waffle and picked up the first wing, tore it apart, and took a bite. “Damn, Miss Tiffany, you put your foot in these wings!” She burst into laughter, shaking her head at him.

For the next five minutes, he didn’t say a single word.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t make any noise, not if you counted the moans of delight.

“SCOTT, GET
over here!” Jimmy called out.

Scott went over to the table of regulars from the club. “What’s up?”

“You tell us.” Jimmy raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow.

“About?”

“Tall, dark, and de-li-cious, of course.” Jimmy put his hands on his hips and jerked his head at Tony.

“Oh.” Scott smiled.

“Oh? That’s all you got to say about him?” Bob chimed in. “Uh-huh, you have to dish.”

“So you came over to the dark side, dawlin’?” Peter, who had mocha-colored skin, pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

Scott’s face went up in flames at the teasing. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

Across the room, Tony got up, went to the register, and paid with the money Scott had slipped him.

“So, bring him over here and introduce us.” Jimmy pulled out a compact and checked himself out in it, then snapped it shut.

“Down, Celine,” Derek drawled. “That’s Scott’s man.”

“Lordy, that man’s muscles have got muscles.” Jimmy pretended to swoon.

Scott laughed. “Okay, okay.” He turned to Tony. “Hey, Tony.”

TONY LOOKED
up, stuffed the change into his pocket, and then sauntered over to Scott. As he reached the table, he took in the four guys eyeing his man and slung an arm around Scott, staking his claim.

“What’s up?” He tried to sound cool, but his heart was beating like the bass drum in a jazz band.

“These are my friends. This is Jimmy, Bob, Derek, and Peter. They work at the Cage aux Folles club on Bourbon Street.”

“Hi.” Tony nodded. “How you guys makin’?”

“Not as good as you, Tony.” Jimmy grinned.

Tony pulled Scott closer and grinned back. “What can I say?”

Jimmy got serious and leaned forward. “Listen, Tony. Scott’s special, to us and to Miss Tiffany. What are your intentions?”

“Intentions?” Tony cocked his head at the guy. What the hell did he mean by that?

“You know… how you plan on treating him? If you hurt him, we’re not going to be happy. We may look like a bunch of fags, but we can still kick your ass.”

“Whoa! Whoa!” Tony held out his arms, trying to calm them down. They obviously cared about his man; he couldn’t fault them for that. “Look, I’ll tell you what I promised Scott. I swore I’d never hurt him, and I meant that.”

Jimmy’s narrowed eyes relaxed, and he nodded. “Fair enough. Take good care of him, Tony.”

Tony grinned. Seemed he’d passed the test. “I plan on it.”

“Hey, I’m standing right here!” Scott huffed.