This week's episode is
On the Road Again
Every single prayer I’ve ever memorized comes tumbling from my lips, from Hail Mary to the Lord’s Prayer to the one we used to say for grace. Sonny’s clinging to me like a homesick leech, Dale’s screaming his fool head off, and bullets are ricocheting off of everything, with sharp pings.
And then all of a sudden there is silence. Even Dale has stopped giving his imitation of a siren. It isn’t til I raise my head and glance at him that I notice he’s got some agent’s hand over his mouth, and his eyes are bulging just a bit. Dale’s, not the agent’s. The sight warms my heart, and the silence blesses my ears.
“You can come out now, gentlemen.”
Yeah, like I really want to. On second thought, I do, cause it’ll get us away from Dale, whom I suspect has had an accident. First things first.
“Sonny, you okay?” I ask, peering cautiously into his face, looking for signs of tears. He’s surprisingly calm, and gives me a Sonny smile.
“I like being that close to you, Tim-tim,” he confesses, and I feel myself suddenly go quite warm, as I realize just what that closeness hath wrought.
A cough behind us. Damn, this isn’t the place, now is it? We manage to extricate ourselves from beneath the picnic table. Agent Nelson is on his phone, and his fellow agents are standing over what appears to be a body. No, make that two bodies.
“Yessir. Right away, sir.” The FBI man closes his phone and turns to us. “Well, then, let’s get you to the hotel, shall we?” Calm and cool as a cucumber, not a hair out of place. There’s two fucking dead bodies on the ground! Isn’t that something to get at least a little excited about?
My stomach is churning violently and I think I’m going to get sick. I quickly turn Sonny away from the sight of the bloody carnage which lies in the grass. I’ve never seen anyone who was shot before—it’s not a pretty sight. “Don’t look, Sonny,” I caution him. I don’t think to warn Dale—maybe ‘cause I don’t care what he does, as long as it doesn’t involve Sonny—and I’m not surprised to hear him puke.
Agent Nelson takes Dale in hand. I have to restrain Sonny from offering the noodge either comfort or a Kleenex, which he seems to have a huge supply of in his pocket. One of his agents approaches him and whispers in his ear.
“All right, let’s haul some serious ass!” Nelson motions to us to follow him. The other agents are hovering around me and Sonny. I growl at them when they get too close for my comfort. We’re hustled into the back of a big black Cadillac with tinted windows. I make sure to get in between Dale and Sonny. At the moment, Dale seems too dispirited to try anything. Good. I hope he stays that way. For as long as this situation lasts. However the fuck long that is.
“Um, what’s gonna happen with them?” I ask Agent Nelson. He sits shotgun in the front, and Agent A is driving, while Agent B sits in the middle, looking straight ahead, like a truck driver on crack. “With the bodies, I mean.”
“What bodies?” The agent turns to face our way, flashing us a humorless grin.
Great. Denial at high levels. Or intensive cover-up. Take your pick.
I notice that Agent A (who looks just like Agent B, even to the length of his regulation dark hair and mirrored shades) is driving a rather circuitous route, weaving in and out of traffic on the highway like he’s got a cake in the oven and if he doesn’t get to it quickly, the house will burn down. My heart leaps into my throat at several near collisions, including one with a huge tractor trailer with a clown painted on its side. The driver blasts his horn at us. Sonny and Dale turn around and make motions with their arms to get him to do it again. Morons. The windows are tinted, no one can see in.
“Can we slow down a little?” I suggest, my words falling on deaf ears.
You know what, there's no point to this. I’m just giving myself an ulcer for no good reason. I scoot over toward Sonny as far as I can without unbuckling, as far away from Dale as possible. Sonny doesn’t complain. I put my arms around him, and we snuggle together in the corner. If I keep my face buried in his flesh, I can’t see oncoming traffic, right? At least that’s my theory.
I find myself kissing Sonny’s neck, surprising myself at my own amatory tendencies—normally I’m not one to express myself so openly when in the company of anyone else, cretin or otherwise. He curls his fingers in my hair, and makes little moaning noises. This is so familiar. No, not necking in the back of a Federal agent’s car. Me and Sonny. Loving, touching, squeezing. Each other.
I’d like to pretend it’s just us, he and I, alone, in love, and living our lives. But the sound of Dale’s voice puts an end to my fantasies, assaulting my eardrum like nails on a chalkboard.
“I’m hungry!” he whines, “can I have some chicken nuggets?”
I want to reach over and slap him until his head bounces, and scream, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” And I would, but Sonny chooses that moment to wind his legs around mine, and I find myself in just the right position, albeit an uncomfortable one, to feel his hardness rubbing against mine.
Screw Dale. My libido takes on a life of its own, I devour Sonny’s mouth with my own, the motion of the vehicle putting us into auto-frottage. Oh God, I can’t believe we’re doing this, here and now, and I think I’m about to explode and….
… then the car stops.
To be continued...
Check out this week's other Silver Flashers:
Sui Lynn m/m
RJ Scott m/f
Ryssa Edwards m/m
Heather Lin m/m
Lindsay Klug m/m
LM Brown m/m
Nicole Dennis m/m
Lily Sawyer m/m
Come back next week for the continuing saga of Sonny and Tim in Yes He's My Ex!