markwildyr.com,
Post #108
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| Courtesy of clipart-library.com |
What a
meeting of two macho men! But Hawk came out on top… literally. But what will
come of Hawk fucking the enemy? Will he convert the drug runner? Oh, wait! Will
the drug runner convert Hawk? Read on.
*****
HUNTINGHAWK AND WOLVERINE
When he went outside with
his cup of coffee at the morning star’s rising, he thought of Brit Guerrero
spread naked over the back of the chair and the hair on the back of his neck
rose. What had he been thinking? Crap! He’d gotten together with
Wolverine, with a drug runner. With the enemy. His mind swirling, he got up to
go get ready for work.
Naturally taciturn, Hawk guessed
he’d overdone the silence thing when he caught Grove glancing over at him from
behind the wheel of the four-by as they patrolled a patch of the border.
“What’s the matter, bro?”
Grove finally asked.
“My boots showed up on my
front porch this morning.”
“What! Man, why didn’t
you say something? Maybe there’s fingerprints or something.”
“Hell, Grove, we aren’t
some high-tech outfit. We don’t even have hand radios or cell phones for Christ’s
sake! We find somebody, we gotta hike back to the truck radio or send up smoke
signals.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Surprised
we aren’t on horseback.”
“Hell, we are sometimes,”
Hawk said, tearing his eyes away from Grove’s handsome face and taking in his
friend’s crotch before staring resolutely out the windshield. Man, they’d taken
a piss together a hundred times, on the desert, in bars, but Hawk had no idea
what Grove looked like down there, not even if it was cut or not. He almost let
out a startled exclamation when he realized he wanted to know.
After they returned to
headquarters that afternoon, Hawk found a phone and made a call to the Motor
Vehicle Department. Fifteen minutes later he had confirmed the black Blazer
belonged to Brit Guerrero. Next, he picked up a small magnetic radio
transmitter and a receiver from a surveillance specialty store without
plundering all of his savings. On the way home, he detoured by Brit’s address and
parked a block away. Hawk got out and walked the neighborhood until he spotted
the right house. A Lexus and a Chevy Blazer, the two cars registered to Brit
sat in the proper driveway. Brit wouldn’t take the Lexus into the desert, so he
bugged the coal black Chevy.
The rest of his
half-baked plan was trickier. The receiver had to be within a mile of the
transmitter in order to work. He debated over taking Grove into his confidence,
but in the end decided he wanted to do this alone. By midweek, he had not found
the opportunity to track the Blazer’s movements except in the evenings on his
own time.
He was surprised one
night when the bug led him to his own house. He parked in the drive and got
out, trying to cover his nervousness.
“Hello, Hawk,” the words
came from over by the barn at the back of the house.
“Hello, Brit. Skulking
again?”
The laugh was soft and
didn’t seem to hold any malice. “Yeah, I’m a good skulker. Can lurk like hell
too.”
“Well, quit it and come
on in.”
Brit strode out into the
moonlight, and Hawk was shaken when he got a good look at him. The traficante
was even better looking than he recalled. He was dressed in black, and his
handsome head seemed to float through the night… like a phantom, like El Espectro.
As they walked to the
back door, Brit spoke. “I don’t know what spell you used on me, but I want you
to call it off. I can’t stop thinking about you…about us,”
“Didn’t know there was an
us.”
“Of course, there’s an us.
Has been since you joined the Rezagados. And now there’s another us.”
“Okay, I’ll accept that. And
I’ll confess I’ve been thinking about you. Both of you… Wolverine and Brit.”
“And what do you think
about when you think of Brit.”
“A handsome, vital man. Somebody
I could like a lot if he didn’t make his living the way he does. If he didn’t
shoot people when it suits his purposes.”
“Can I come inside?”
“Same condition as
before. Don’t sandbag my house.”
“If I come in, are you
going to fuck me again?” Moonlight collected in Brit’s eyes and flashed back at
Hawk.
“Guess it depends on who
comes inside, Brit or Wolverine.” Hawk turned to go inside but was stopped by
the man’s hand on his arm.
“Deal. Wolverine won’t
ever enter your home. But while Brit’s there, the Rezagado goes away
too. Here in this house, it’s only Brit and Hawk, okay?”
Hawk considered carefully
before replying. “Deal. From this moment forward, Brit and Hawk here. Wolverine
and Rezagado everywhere else. But make no mistake, Brit. I’m going to
get Wolverine. I’m going to see he’s locked up for a long time.”
“We’ve got a deal, Hawk,
but I can promise you one thing. You’ll never lock him away. I know him too
well. He won’t permit it.”
“He won’t be able to stop
me.”
“He will if he kills
you.”
“That’s the only way.”
Brit hesitated a moment. “Maybe
not, Hawk. But this is Brit, not Wolverine. And Brit wants to go inside with
you.”
Hawk had not even snapped
on the light when Brit came for him. He tensed as the arms came around him.
“God, Hawk! I can’t stop
thinking about you… about us, what we did. I can’t even make love to my girl
without thinking about you. What did you do to me?”
Hawk shrugged. “I was
just being me, Brit. Nothing magical about that.”
“I’m not so sure. I keep
feeling you inside me. I wake up at night dreaming about it.”
“You left here halfway pissed
off last time. Is it going to be that way again?”
“No, I promise. And you
promise me you’ll love me better than you’ve ever loved anyone else.” Brit’s hands
wandered “Promise!”
“Donno about the loving
part. But to be crude, I’ll fuck you the best I can.”
Brit insisted on a light,
so Hawk turned on a small lamp on the bedside table while Brit tore off his own
clothing. Then he undressed Hawk slowly before kissing him. Damn! He really
felt that one. As Brit stood back and gazed into his eyes, Hawk wondered if
he’d said that aloud.
“You’re a witch,
Huntinghawk. A damned witch. And I’m going to prove it. I’m going to do something
else I’ve never done.” Brit sank to his knees, and Hawk felt his mouth on him.
Brit wasn’t very good at it, but the idea of reaching orgasm like this was
appealing.
Sooner than expected, his
contractions hit. Halfway curling his naked body over Brit, he whispered words
in his native tongue as he held the man’s head tight against him. When it was
over, Brit looked up at Hawk.
“You bastard, I didn’t
intend to take you all the way like that.”
“You started it, Brit. Don’t
start something unless you can finish it.”
“I just wanted to get you
hard and…”
“And see what it was
like,” Hawk finished. “Now you know.”
“Are you still going to make
love to me?”
“Like you wouldn’t
believe. But first I’m going to have a beer. Want one?”
They lay side by side on
the bed and rested cold cans of beer on hairless, muscled chests between sips.
“Hawk, can we be friends?”
“Sure. You give yourself
up, serve your time, and I’ll be there to help however I can when you get out.”
“I can’t do that. You ask
too much. They’d kill me if I turned myself in.” Brit threw his leg over
Hawk’s.
“There it is then.”
“So we can be lovers, but not friends.” Brit
paused. “Curt, make love to me. Down deep where it counts.”
“Nobody’s called me Curt
in years. Sounds good after all this time.” He turned to his willing partner,
pausing to rake his eyes over the strong man spread on the bed before rolling on
top of him to keep his promise.
Thirty minutes later, he fell
back onto the mattress, bathed in sweat and panting heavily.
“Well, how’d I do?” he gasped.
“Infuckingcredible! Man,
I’ve been truly fucked!”
“But don’t ask me to do
it again. At least not tonight.”
“You’re a hell of a
lover,” Brit said into Hawk’s ear. “But I guess you’ve been told that a lot. Was
it as good as with the Mexican kid?”
Without waiting for an
answer, he dressed, refused another beer, and caressed Hawk’s cheek
affectionately. As he moved to the door, Hawk’s voice stopped him.
“Nothing’s changed, Brit.
I’m still coming after you.”
“Nothing’s changed except
I’m in love with you,” the other man answered bitterly. “But I understand.”
“You won’t consider my
terms? I’ll wait for you. If you want me when you get out, I’ll be there for
you.”
“Thanks. That means a
lot. Strange isn’t it? I shot you once, and now we’re lovers. I can’t, Curt. They’d
kill me. Inside prison or out, they’d kill me.”
“Together we—”
“Is it true the Mexican
kid was the first for you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you’re my first
and my last. I’ll never permit another man to touch me. But I’ll do it with you
any time you want.” With that, he turned and walked out the door.
*****
Looks
like Hawk still in control of the situation, but his effort to turn Wolverine seems
to have failed. Now what? Does he continue to consort with the enemy, or does
the scheme he has working in his brain hold a solution to that problem? We’ll
have to see next week with the conclusion of the story of Huntinghawk and
Wolverine.
For those
of you who have not already done so, please order Cut Hand
and Johnny Two-Guns from Dreamspinner Press. I’d like to
convince them to publish the rest of the Cut Hand Series, including the
unpublished manuscript Wastelakapi…
Beloved, It’ll take some help from readers to get Dreamspinner interested.
My contact
information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
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Until next time.
Mark
New posts at 6:00 a.m. on the first and
third Thursdays of the month.
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