Seventy-Two Hours Ch. 02

Swallowing the corresponding lump in his throat, Axl said, "I told Gage if he ever fucked up with his girl then this was the song he needed to sing to her. To, ya know, apologize."

"Turn it off, Axl." Justice closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall.

"That little brat laughed at my suggestion," Axl continued, ignoring Justice's words. "He actually had the nerve to straight up laugh at me, J."

The hazels popped open. They were filled with an interest that hadn't been there moments before.

"Yep, you heard me. He laughed. Several times, in fact. Especially when I tried to demonstrate for him exactly how he should hold his girl while making his apology. He thought the shit was wildly hysterical."

"He hardly ever laughed," Justice said disbelievingly.

"Well, he did for me. Or maybe it was at me." Approaching Justice, Axl held his hand out. "I'll give you a personal demonstration of exactly what it was I showed your son. And you can set the record straight, once and for all, on whether I made a clown out of myself."

Sure Justice was going to rebuff his suggestion in favor of letting his anguish keep its tight hold on him, Axl held his breath. But Justice surprised him by taking his outstretched hand. Axl let his pent up air free as he pulled Justice to his feet, struggling with the much bigger form.

"Damn, J, what the hell you been eating since I been gone, bro," Axl joked lightly. "You're a donut away from needing to be beached, man."

"Fuck you." A small hint of what just may have been amusement colored the foul words. "And just show me what the hell type of apology you tried to mislead my son into thinking he could make using a rock song."

"A good one," Axl responded. He eyed Justice up and down with mock criticalness. "You're a tad bit bigger than my man Gage when we had our lesson, so we'll have to reverse the roles. I'll be the girl."

"You made my son the puta?" There was definitely amusement in that raspy voice. "I should kick your little ass now, Axe."

"Let me finish my demo first, then you're welcome to try." Axl returned to the iPod and restarted the song. "But for now we have to settle this issue of whether Gage thought I was making a fool of myself." He approached Justice, taking Justice's right arm and placing it around his waist. "First, I told him he needed to be holding his girl close when he apologized or it wasn't even worth the effort."

On his own, Justice brought his left arm up and wrapped it around Axl's shoulders.

"Second, I told him her head should be laid on his chest."

Justice repositioned his left arm so that his hand was buried in the hair at the nape of Axl's neck. Applying a slight amount of pressure, he pushed Axl's head down.

Axl sighed contentedly as Justice used the pads of his fingers to lightly massage his neck. "And the last thing I told him was that he needed to memorize each and every word of the song so that when he sang it to his girl he came off as truly genuine."

"Well, I don't know the words, and I don't plan on learning them, so tough shit."

"S'ok," Axl assured, his voice deeper than normal, husky.

They swayed back and forth, tentatively at first. But the longer they moved with one another, the more comfortable they both became, until, at one point, Axl lost himself completely in the moment and twirled around so his back was to Justice's chest. Undulating his body, he slowly dropped into a crouch, then just as slowly pushed back to his feet, sliding and rolling intimately against Justice. When he turned to face Justice again, he was welcomed once more into the circle of his arms.

But, all too soon for Axl's liking, the music ended. He was surprised, though, when Justice didn't immediately release him.

"Shit, I've missed you, Axe," Justice said, drawing him closer, burying his face in Axl's hair. "Gage did, too. And you didn't get to say..."

"We said our goodbyes, J." When King had sought Axl out the night before and relayed the end was near, Axl had driven to the hospital. Not wanting to intrude, and knowing there was no way he could get into the ICU without Lisa spotting him, Axl had sat upon the hood of his car out in the same parking lot he'd utilized on the day Gage had been born. He'd smoked a premo as he'd sat there in the pitch black.

And he'd said his farewells to his little brother.

"Why the hell did you leave, Axl?"

Rather than out Lisa, Axl said, "Shit was getting kind of deep 'round here. And I guess...I guess I just thought this was a family issue and that I was in the way."

"That fucking bitch," Justice snarled. "Did she tell you to leave? Did she?"

Axl hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering truthfully, "Yeah."

"Jesus, you idiot, why the hell did you listen to her? You are my family, Axe. You know that. You were my family long before she came along. And you were Gage's family, too."

"I know, J. I just, I just...shit, I don't know."

"You're here now. That's what counts. And together we'll get through this." They stood there, Axl enclosed in Justice's strong arms, for several long minutes. Then Justice asked, "What the hell is this sad shit playing now?"

Axl forced his attention from the steady beat of Justice's heart. The song was Break Even by The Script. "The song I told Gage he would be singing to himself when his girl told him to go fuck himself after he made his apology."

Then it happened. Justice threw his head back. And laughed. Loudly and raucously, he laughed.

He was going to be okay. They were both going to be okay. It would be a long, rocky road to healing, but they'd get through it together, just like Justice indicated.

"Yeah, as I recall, Gage thought that was pretty amusing, too," Axl said.

"Only you, Axe. Only you," Justice whispered, still chuckling.

Axl gazed up into the beloved, rugged panes of Justice's severe countenance. Unthinking, he pushed up to the tips of his toes and brushed his lips against the smiling ones. Then pulled back, aghast, when he realized what he'd done.

He'd acted on his true feelings for Justice. Feelings Justice didn't return. Not in that way.

Justice knew about, and accepted, Axl's homosexuality. But Justice himself was straighter than the path to the nearest exit Pastor Fred Phelps and his congregation would take if they ever found themselves inexplicably standing in the middle of a gay bar.

Immediately, Axl tried to extricate himself from Justice's grip. "Shit, I didn't, oh, fuck, I didn't mean to do that."

But Justice refused to let him go. Instead, he buried his fingers in Axl's hair until Axl had no choice but to stop struggling. It was that, or risk a sizeable patch of his hair being torn out. When Axl finally fell still, Justice tugged gently on the strands, forcing Axl's face to tilt upwards.

"J, I'm really—"

Axl's apology was swallowed by the cavity of Justice's mouth.

He was kissing Justice! Jesus Christ, Holy Mother of God, he was kissing Justice!

Or, more accurately, Justice was kissing him!

The remainder of Axl's profound thoughts were lost as Justice increased the pressure. His tongue swept into Axl's mouth, exploring, teasing. He tasted faintly of his Cuban heritage, an intoxicating combination of the illegally imported Havana Club Máximo Extra Añejo rum he favored and the Cohiba cigarillos he liked to smoke and other things uniquely Justice.

Still not quite believing this was happening, Axl melted into Justice, letting him set the pace. Wasn't too hard to pull off as Axl was naturally a submissive who tended to follow where his lovers led.

And he'd been following Justice for forever. Hoping. Praying. Longing.

Justice pulled back, regarding Axl with a fair amount of lust in his hazy, amber gaze. "Take your clothes off."

The thought of reason, that they probably shouldn't be doing this, scampered through Axl's mind. But he banished it as he complied with Justice's command.

He wanted this too bad not to go through with it. Had wanted it for so long.

Had had to sit back and act like his young, fourteen year old heart hadn't been ripped, still beating, out of his chest when he'd watched Justice exchange vows with Lisa, four years before, to love, honor and obey.

When they were both naked, Justice again captured Axl's mouth. His lips were warm and insistent as they moved over Axl's, claiming and branding him. Not breaking the contact, Justice pulled them both down to the floor until he lay flat on his back with Axl sprawled sideways across his golden, hairy chest.

Axl wished he had the opportunity to just sit back and drink in the perfection that was Justice. But he didn't for fear that if he did stop to look, Justice would also stop.

And would then come to his senses.

So when Justice grabbed one of Axl's legs and tugged until one leg was on either side of him, Axl readily went with no objection or hesitation. He straddled Justice's hips, knees to the floor.

"Ride me," Justice demanded in his rasping voice. He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

Axl felt the tip of the cock positioned at his sphincter, awaiting entrance. It had been a while since the last time he'd had sex. And from the brief peek he had been able to sneak of Justice's sex, he knew it, like the rest of Justice, was huge.

There was no way Axl could take him without lube or without being loosened up first. He had to have one or the other.

And Justice taking the time to loosen him up also fell into that category of Justice coming to his senses.

For a moment, Axl panicked. Just freaked out that he'd gotten so close to having something he wanted more than life itself only to have a tiny matter like the lack of lube ruin it for him. Then he spied the changing table sitting an arm's length away. On the bottom shelf was a bottle of baby oil.

Offering a quick promise to the Lord to attend church for the next month's worth of Sundays, Axl leaned over and snagged the bottle. He squirted a generous amount of the liquid into the palm of his hand, then reached behind him to grab Justice's cock, coating him from the tip down to the springy hair surrounded base.

The groan Justice emitted was beyond sexy.

Axl wanted to hear him make more of the intoxicating sound. It was that addictive. Better than any drug induced high he'd ever experienced.

Holding Justice's cock steady, Axl carefully lowered himself onto it. He felt the head pop past his body's natural resistance and held himself still, adjusting. That first moment of penetration was always the hardest.

But Justice's massive girth meant this whole ride was going to present a test. Good thing Axl enjoyed a good challenge.

"Fuck, you're tight," Justice growled. "Gotta feel more, baby."

Justice brought his hands out from under his head and grasped Axl's waist. And with Justice guiding him, Axl slowly slid down Justice's cock until he'd taken the entire ass splitting length and Axl's bottom was nestled securely against Justice's balls.

"Ride me." As if to show Axl exactly what he wanted him to do, Justice lowered his hands to clutch Axl's buttocks. Using the strength of his arms, he moved Axl furiously up and down a few strokes then let go. He folded them behind his head again.

But Axl didn't need the demonstration. He knew exactly what to do. It was just that, in his current position, while not making it impossible to give Justice the rough pleasure he wanted, it did make it rather difficult. Readjusting himself, Axl placed his feet flat on the floor.

Then, bracing his hands on the top part of Justice's hips for leverage, he rode. Hard.

With his cock flopping up and down in unison with his movements, Axl bounced. On each up stroke, his cock hit his own stomach. On each down stroke, it hit Justice's. And on every stroke, Justice's dick hit Axl's prostate.

Several minutes of the brutal fucking was all Axl could take. Not breaking motion, he grabbed his cock and tugged on his flesh with a tight grip. Then his orgasm was on him, the feel of his ass clutching at Justice's cock the first sign.

"That's it, baby," Justice moaned. "Shit, I can feel you grabbing my dick. I'm about to, oh, fuck, I'm about to cum. Your hot ass pussy is milking it right out of—"

A spray of semen erupted from Axl's cock. It hit Justice right below the chin. The second shot landed in the tight curls of his chest. The third and fourth on his flat stomach.

"What the fuck!" Justice's eyes flew open before he screwed them tightly shut again.

Axl closed his own eyes, any post orgasmic relief he might've experienced dissipated. He stopped riding Justice, but the cock in his channel was already jerking, filling him with hot seed.

That brief glimpse into Justice's eyes had filled Axl with a horrid realization.

Justice had given himself overr completely to his grief driven lust. Whoever he'd been imagining he was fucking, it wasn't anyone who possessed a dick.

And it sure the hell wasn't Axl.

"Goddamn it!"

A forceful shove knocked Axl off of Justice and into the wall. Slightly dazed, he opened his eyes to discover a very pissed Justice towering over him. Not liking Justice's superior position combined with the wild rage in his eyes, Axl scrambled to his own feet.

"What the fuck, Axl?" Justice bellowed as he stalked to the other side of the room, bending down to grab Axl's shirt along the way. He wiped Axl's sperm from his body then flung the piece of material disgustedly to the floor. "What the fuck was that?"

"Something we both enjoyed...or so I thought," Axl answered.

"Something we both enjoyed...or so you thought? So you thought? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" An accusatory finger pointed at Axl. "How the hell could you ever think I would want that from you?"

Right then and there something in Axl shattered in response to the pure horror and revulsion displayed on Justice's face. And the knowledge that it was all for Axl.

His heart, Axl dimly realized. His heart had just been demolished into a million tiny pieces.

"Wasn't my dick slapping against your chest a clue?" he asked quietly.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I asked why the fuck my dick slapping against your chest wasn't a clue you weren't fucking a chick," Axl shouted.

"I'm not gay," Justice gritted between tightly clenched teeth. "I'm not twisted."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you have to tell yourself."

"Goddamn it, Axl! I'm not like you! I'm not some butt loving, bitch ass—"

Faggot.

Justice may have stopped himself before actually saying it, but the word still hung there in the air between them, ugly and hateful as if it had been given life. Funny enough, Justice's unspoken word was ten times more hurtful than Lisa's spoken one.

"Nope, you're not a faggot. Not at all. Never mind the fact that your cock rammed deep up my ass was done at your request, not mine. And, oh, how about we also just forget about the fact that you did, in fact, enjoy it." Axl used his fingers to scoop up some of the semen sliding down his inner leg and flicked the blob in Justice's direction. "Enjoyed it so much the goddamn proof of your pleasure is still leaking out of me!"

"Fuck you." Justice advanced menacingly.

Axl stood his ground, waiting to be crushed. He wanted all parts of him to match. Inside and out.

By the time Justice reached him, his fist was cocked. He let it fly, hitting the wall right next to Axl's head causing bits of sheetrock to splatter onto the side of Axl's face. Justice then strode out of the room, muttering under his breath, "Goddamn faggot ass bitch."

And Axl knew he was watching the only family he'd ever truly had walk away from him. For good.

Axl picked up his pants. The torn off corner of a clear, plastic sandwich baggie fell to the floor from one of his pockets. Retrieving the bag, he studied the ivory colored rocks within.

Never get high on your own supply. The Notorious B.I.G's fourth crack commandment. Justice's number one rule.

But what about when the product was the perfect antidote to mending a broken heart by making it numb? Was there an extenuating rule for that circumstance?

Because otherwise Axl wasn't going to be okay. Not by a long shot.

*

January 17, 2011

One hour 'til dawn.

And Saint was willing to bet his unfortunate was still comfortably abed with his assurance. Well, he knew just how to remedy that situation, didn't he.

Saint eased into Justice's dark room. Sure enough, there Axl was. Ensconced safely in Justice's arms.

But what Saint hadn't expected was to discover both men naked.

The last time they'd both been nude in a room together had just been full of shits and giggles. And by that afternoon Detroit had welcomed its newest crack head.

Studying the sleeping forms, Saint wondered why he hadn't been aware of Justice's sexual actions with Axl. Why hadn't he felt Justice's soul searing guilt over fucking his charge?

Because, Saint realized with irritation, Justice wasn't feeling any.

Well, that just was not acceptable.