Running with Scissors (21 page)

Shit. This was amazing—the talented mouth working its

magic on his dick, the view of himself slowly fucking Jude’s

mouth . . .

He groaned. If he’d known Jude loved sucking cock this

much, he’d have given in to this a long,
long
time ago.

Jude stopped again. He grinned up at A.J., and this time he

was the one to reach for the condoms. A.J.’s heart skipped—

they hadn’t even talked about who’d be on top, or if they’d

switch, or . . . well, anything. And as much as A.J. preferred

being on top, he had no objection whatsoever to taking Jude’s

cock. He just wanted to fuck. Soon.
Now
.

Though Jude’s hands were usually rock steady, they were

trembling as he tore the wrapper. A.J. hadn’t been fucked in a

long time, but at this point, he couldn’t think of anything he

wouldn’t let Jude do. As long as they were fucking soon,

he didn’t care whose cock was in whose ass.

Just . . . now . . . please . . .

Jude moved closer, and when he rolled the condom over

A.J.’s cock instead of his own, A.J. thought he was going to

black out.
Yes. Oh God, yes.

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As A.J. put some lube on his hand, he was about to tell

Jude to get on his knees, but Jude grabbed him and kissed

him. He pushed him onto his back. A.J. instinctively wanted

to fight him—
oh, you think
you’re
getting on top?
—but Jude’s kiss melted his resolve. He didn’t care who was on top, what

position they were in, who was fucking who, as long as Jude

kept kissing him like that.

Jude broke the kiss enough to murmur, “Fuck, I can’t

wait.” He kissed him again, and then slurred, “Been waiting

too long for you to fuck me.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?”

Jude brushed his lips across A.J.’s one more time, and then

he sat up. He lifted himself, and A.J. reached between his

legs with his lubed fingers, but Jude stopped him. Grinning,

he pinned both of A.J.’s wrists above his head. A.J. tightened

his fists and gritted his teeth, ready to wrench himself free,

put Jude on his back, and fuck him senseless, but the gleam

in Jude’s eyes gave him pause.

He relaxed. Jude grinned. He released one wrist. Then the

other. A.J. kept his arms where they were—they were free to

move, but that look in Jude’s eye kept him still and restrained even more than a sharp
Don’t move!
would have.

Jude put some lube on A.J.’s cock, steadied it, and lowered

himself onto it. There was resistance at first, and A.J. fought the urge to lift his hips and press against him. He lay there,

holding his breath, wondering if he could even handle being

inside him—and then Jude relaxed, and they both groaned as

he sank down onto A.J.

A.J.’s vision blurred. Despite the condom, with a man as

tight as Jude, that first shallow stroke was mind-blowing. Jude had only taken the head of his cock, and he was already out

of breath.

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“Oh Jesus . . .” Jude let his head fall back. He lifted up,

then came back down, but he was still too tight.

He took a breath. Released it slowly.

And . . .

Oh God.

As A.J. blinked his eyes into focus, Jude lifted up and came

down again, taking a little at a time. Just as A.J. expected, Jude relaxed more and more. Moaning, gasping, shaking—he took

him deeper, and before long at al , they were moving easily

together.

A.J. slid his hands over Jude’s thighs, up to his narrow

hips, and Jude didn’t protest. When A.J. started rol ing his

own hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, Jude swore softly and

shuddered. So did A.J. Even with the lube, a certain amount of

friction was inevitable, and it made his head spin. Jesus, Jude felt amazing. He tried to tell him that—to murmur
Fuck, you
feel good
or
I’ve been waiting forever for this
or, hell, he didn’t even know what he wanted to say—but all he could do was

moan again.

“Fuck . . .” Jude gasped for breath. He dropped onto his

hands and sped up, and A.J. quickly fell into sync with him.

Every time one of them changed speeds, the other did too,

their bodies moving together like they were completely in

tune, on the same wavelength while their minds were just

along for the ride.

A.J. couldn’t get enough. He ran his hands all over Jude’s

body—his tattooed arms, his pierced nipples, his gorgeous

broad shoulders.

Faster
, he wanted to . . . beg? Order? Plead? Every time he met Jude’s gaze, though, he forgot what speech was. And

though he loved the way Jude fucked him—slowly, fluidly—

he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t find out what it felt like to slam himself into Jude until they both fell apart.

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To hell with it. He grabbed Jude’s hips and thrust upward.

“Oh fuck!” Jude’s eyes widened. A.J. thrust into him again,

and Jude shivered. For a second, A.J. was sure Jude was going

to grab his wrists and pin him again, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned on one hand and, with the other, stroked his own cock

as A.J. fucked him from beneath.

Oh. God.
Yes
. Every time A.J. bottomed out, Jude

moaned, and the harder they fucked, the more Jude trembled.

A.J. would’ve given anything to have Jude bent over or flat

on his back, but this? This was insanely hot. Jude might have

been on top, but there was no mistaking who was in control,

and if those blissful little whimpers were any indication, Jude loved it as much as he did.

A.J. thought he heard himself cursing but didn’t care one

way or the other. He was inside Jude, thrusting deep and hard

while Jude jerked himself off, and holy fuck, this was hot.

Every time Jude took him, he was sure he was going to lose

it, but somehow he kept going. He was out of breath, fal ing

to pieces from the inside out, but he wasn’t coming yet, and

thank God because he wanted to enjoy this ride as long as he

possibly could.

Jude whimpered. His hand faltered, and he swore softly.

Still struggling to catch his breath, A.J. pushed Jude’s hand out of the way and took over stroking his thick, rock-hard dick.

“Fuck . . .” Jude squeezed his eyes shut. His abs tightened.

His rhythm fell apart, but it didn’t matter because they were

still moving together—erratically, with no regard for anything

except what felt good, and it all felt good. “Fuck, A.J. . . .”

Jude rode him faster. A.J. stroked him harder. Jude sucked

in a breath, and he clenched around A.J., and then he was

coming, his hips jerking as his cock shot cum all over A.J.’s

stomach.

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A.J. moaned and fucked Jude even harder as his own

orgasm started to take over. Back arching, vision blurring, he

ground out a whispered curse and pulled Jude down so his

cock was buried as far as he could take him.

“Jesus . . .” He shuddered one last time, and his hands

slipped off Jude’s hips. Jude slumped over A.J. His arms

trembled like his elbows might col apse, so A.J. pulled him

the rest of the way down.

And they were both still. As it had been almost the

entire time since Jude had arrived, the apartment was silent

except for their breathing—faster now, and sharper—and the

marcato of A.J.’s pounding heart.

After a minute or two, Jude lifted his head and met A.J.’s

gaze. Slowly, he ran his tongue along his lips. “All the way

here,” he whispered, “I was sure we shouldn’t do this.”

“I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t have.”

“Probably not.” Jude ran his fingers through A.J.’s hair.

“But now that we’re in bed like this, all I can think is, how the hell did it take us so fucking long to get here?”

A.J.’s skin broke out in goose bumps. He ran a hand up

Jude’s chest. “I don’t know. I’m just glad we finally did.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

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took care of the condom, and then they col apsed

a.j.in bed. Despite the narrow confines, they fit

comfortably together, and for a while they just lay there, A.J.’s head resting on Jude’s chest, Jude’s arm around A.J.’s shoulders.

A.J. was awake as near as Jude could tell—his breathing wasn’t

slow enough for someone who’d drifted off.

Eventually, Jude turned on his side and met A.J.’s blue

eyes. “So I have to know something.”

“Hmm?”

“Who are you and what have you done with A.J.?”

A.J. burst out laughing. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean . . .” Jude hesitated. “It’s like there’s two sides of

you. You’re such a different person onstage.”

A.J. laughed again, this time uncertainly. “Aren’t we al ?”

“Yeah, but . . .” Jude trailed his fingers along A.J.’s sculpted forearm. “You’re . . .”

A.J. lowered his gaze. “I guess the stage is the one place

where I’m not afraid to be that guy.”

Jude arched his eyebrow. “I don’t think the stage is the

only place.”

“What do you mean?”

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He grinned, curving his hand around the back of A.J.’s

neck. “I’ve seen that side of you when we’re alone. I just saw it a few minutes ago.”

A.J. shifted a little, and a shy smile formed as his cheeks

colored.

Jude’s fingertip traced a line up the middle of A.J.’s abs, his own muscles contracting when A.J.’s did. “It’s like you’re kind of shy, maybe even a bit passive most of the time, but there’s

this side of you that comes out onstage. And apparently it

comes out in the bedroom too.”

Sighing, A.J. shifted onto his back and stared up at the

ceiling. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have to walk on eggshells on the stage. Or in the bedroom.”

Jude pushed himself up onto his elbow. “Why would you

have to walk on eggshells?”

A.J. eyed him like he’d lost his mind. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“The band. Obviously.”

“Okay,
I
have to walk on eggshells with the band, but . . .”

Jude cocked his head. “They like you. And you’re an amazing

musician. Why the hell . . . What are you so afraid of?”

A.J. shook his head. “I’m not even sure. Rocking the boat,

I guess. I’m so used to playing the peacekeeper, and trying to

keep people from killing each other . . .”

Jude grimaced. “The band has fucked with you that

much?”

“No, no. I mean, yes. Kind of.” A.J. swept his tongue across

his lips. “Yeah, I do the peacekeeper thing with the band, and

it’s irritating, but it’s always been that way. I was the one who kept my siblings from fighting so we wouldn’t get in trouble,

and so my parents wouldn’t fight because they couldn’t agree

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on how to discipline us for it, and . . .” He sighed. “That was pretty much my childhood—keeping people from fighting.”

Jude slipped his fingers between A.J.’s. “But when you’re

onstage . . .”

“No one’s fighting. No one’s really even there.” A.J.’s gaze

turned distant. “It’s just me and the beat.” He paused for a long moment. “I guess it’s the same way in bed. Approaching guys

has never really been my strong point either. Once I know

we’re on the same wavelength, though, and we both want the

same thing . . .” He looked at Jude, and that grin made Jude’s

pulse jump. “Why hold back, right?”

“But why hold back the rest of the time?”

“I guess . . .” A.J. exhaled and stared up at the ceiling. “Ever since I joined the band, I’ve been waiting for the other shoe

to drop. Like I’m one bad step away from someone changing

their mind and replacing me.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. You’re an amazing

drummer.”

He laughed quietly. “I think the only time I believe that

is when we’re onstage. That’s the only time I’m sure no one’s

going to come along and say ‘You—out.’ I’m there until the

end of the show, and I’m not holding back for anything. But

I’ve . . . I mean, I’ve been in Running with Scissors for a year and a half, and I still feel like the new kid. I’m not really part of the group, you know?” He sighed. “Except as the peacekeeper,

I guess.”

“That has to be exhausting. Trying to toe the line and

keep the peace.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. And between you and me, there

are definitely times when I wish that one time, someone else

could be the adult, you know?”

“Yeah. Especially with this bunch.”

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“Eh, they’re not so bad. Keeping them from killing each

other beats the hell out of trying to keep my
parents
from killing each other.” He pursed his lips.

Jude kept quiet, sensing A.J. wasn’t finished.

“I’m the oldest of four,” A.J. went on, “and my parents

were on the rocks for a long time before they finally split up.”

“You got caught in the middle?”

“Oh yeah. So I guess I kind of learned to defuse situations

and not rock the boat myself.”

“Wow. I mean, it’s bullshit that your parents put you in

that position, but I have to admit, that peacekeeping thing . . .

I kind of envy that about you.”

“Envy it? Why?”

“Because you’ve got a cool head. It’s fucked up that people

take advantage of it and leave all the diplomacy shit on you

instead of, you know, being adults.” He slid a hand over the

top of A.J.’s. “But when idiots like me lose control and do