The Full Ride

He Could Stop Traffic-3

Tomás had anticipated the chloroform before it hit his face, but even holding his breath and acting like it had gotten to him faster didn’t spare him. At least he woke up sooner than he would have otherwise. He was naked on a cool cement floor, his vision blurry and his head buzzing. His rectum throbbed with hot pain. He sat up, noticing he wasn’t cuffed or guarded. He tried to focus on his surroundings. Doors on two walls, no windows, a couple wooden chairs, and some metal boxes. There was also a shiny black disc on one wall that was likely a camera. He needed to lie back down and pretend he was still out until his head cleared.

Less than five minutes later, there was that asshole, Tiburón.

“You’re awake, putito. Good.”

Tomás used the wall behind him to help himself stand up. “What the hell is your problem?”

Tiburón mimed a confused shrug. “No hay bronca. I want to f**k you, that’s all. But this time while you’re awake so I can hear you moan.” He began to undo his belt. “Just once more before you reach Matamoros.”

“Matamoros?”

“You needed to leave town, right? I’ve done you a favor.”

Tomás felt his earlobe. The tracking device was still there. He closed his eyes and imagined simply lifting his legs and allowing this man to invade him. Tomás believed the expression “nice guys finish last” was, in his case, “nice guys always get fucked.” Tiburón stroked his thick d**k.

“So now you owe me. Fighting would be a mistake.”

Tomás nodded but didn’t want to get f****d. Again. The longer he played along, the more time to get rescued. “Bueno, papi. But I want to be yours, okay? Don’t let me be a slave in Matamoros or wherever. Keep me yourself. I will be good to you.”

Tiburón’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Tomás got on his knees and started jerking the man’s d**k. “Just keep me in your apartment. I can sleep in a corner. I’ll clean every day. You can f**k me constantly. I wouldn’t stop you. I couldn’t.” Tomás didn’t like that he was getting hard at his own words, but he’d worry about his screwed-up head later. “And…if you want, you can give my ass to your friends. Or sell it if you need money.” This is where he had to make the offer look real by pulling back. He shot Tiburón a beseeching look. “But, please, your friends have to use condoms. The only one I want bare is you, papi.”

Tiburón let out a low growl, rumbling with lust. Tiburón ran his hands through Tomás’s hair and then shoved the young man onto his back.

“Ahorita, ofrécemelo.” Offer it to me, now.

“Yes, yes, papi,” Tomás whimpered as he lifted his legs. “Espera, papi. Momentito.” He spit into his own hand and lubed himself as well as possible. Why was his heart racing with need? He shouldn’t want his ass pumped by a man who would sell him, but he thought of a reason why it was okay this once. How often does the City of Houston need someone to lose his ass to rescue innocent victims? Go ahead. Give it up. Slut and hero at the same time.

Ay, goddamn. Not enough lube. Not ready. “Stop! Not yet! I’ll give it to you, but…ay!” Tiburón was not stopping, and the burn was too great. Tomás bit his own hand to stop screaming, but that made Tiburón ram harder.

I might be easy, but you will not f*****g hurt me.

Tomás took his right hand and clawed deeply at Tiburón’s face, at the same time leaning forward to bite down on Tiburón’s forearm. Tiburón’s scream was cut off by a gasp, the wind going out of him as Tomás kneed him in the gut and toppled him onto his side. Tomás landed on top of Tiburón, putting one leg on Tiburón’s chest but grabbing his d**k at the same time. He stroked gently, not knowing how long rescue would be. “Look, I’m serious about you owning my ass, papi. But I need you to go slower. If you injure me I can’t be as good to you as I want, can I? So please?”

Tiburón looked more angry than frightened. “Pinche putito, I’m going to f**k you as hard as I want, but now there will be others in the room. If you try that again, we’ll break your arm.”

Tomás didn’t move. “Okay, I’ll be good, but you can trust me, papi, only if I can trust you.”

Both doors burst open. Operatives in black bulletproof vests rushed in. Tomás stood up and put his hands in the air.

The first man to reach him removed his earring. “Device recovered,” he said into a headset as other hands patted Tomás on the back and ushered him out of the room before he could see what happened to Tiburón.

Outside he was swathed in a blanket and handed a cup of water. Through flashing lights, he watched the chaos of arrests and shouted orders. Moments later, Karl was giving him a brief hug.

“Hey, brave man, this went better than we could have imagined. We got the judge’s son back. Half a dozen young women, too. They were in another part of the bunker. And now we know there’s another site a hundred miles south of here.” He squeezed Tomás’s shoulder. “You okay? Did they hurt you?”

Tomás knew he’d be given a rape kit, and Karl was sure to find out about it then. But he blinked and looked Karl in the eye. “I’m sure I’m doing better than the other guy.”

* * * *

Karl jogged up the stairs, having brought Tomás’s prescription pain killers as promised, but he’d also brought flowers and some dinner. Tomás opened the door in his jockstrap. Karl inhaled at the sight, making a sizzling sound through his teeth. Dinner could wait. Karl headed for the fridge. “So, my man, this is the biggest break they’ve gotten against traffickers in years. The chief of police is rewarding me with a move up to Vice and a bonus. I’m taking a week’s vacation on a private beach in Martinique. If you come with me, I could have you nude nonstop for seven days.”

Tomás gave Karl a simmering look. He’d told Karl to be sure to put s*x in every conversation, saying he didn’t want things to be any different after the attack. “That sounds extremely cool, but could I be nude nonstop on your mattress instead of the beach? You know, no sunburn in sensitive areas?”

Karl grinned. “To pay for all that incredible s*x you’ll get, will you learn some French? Maybe take a course a couple hours a day?” Karl didn’t mention learning French had no connection to Martinique. The federal judge had been impressed with Tomás and told them he’d get that interview. But Karl hoped they’d eventually work together in Vice, and traffickers were moving women and children in from Haiti. They needed an agent who could listen in on conversations held in a rapid fire combination of Spanish and French. They hadn’t found anyone.

“Je parle Français…mais…tu as besoin de quelqu’un qui comprend Créole, oui?”

“Uh…what?”

“I was trying to say I know some French, and I was gonna ask if we could spend those couple hours a day doing…something else.” Tomás let out a small laugh. “But I realized you probably were thinking of the department’s need for someone who understands Haitian French, not high school French, right?” Tomás stretched and looked away, as if absent-mindedly spreading his thighs wasn’t a deliberate enticement.

Karl raised his eyebrows, once again amazed at his young friend, but he couldn’t resist the invitation. He slid his fingers between Tomás’s legs. “Yeah, you guessed my game. But we do need something else to do for two hours a day. At least.” He pressed insistently on Tomás’s hot, tight hole.

“This is when you usually say I’m always full of surprises.”

“You are. And you will be in more ways than one after I change my name to Karl ‘Surprises’ Wilkes.” He grinned, seeing his wickedness had shocked Tomás. “And I hope you keep surprising me for a long time.” He kissed Tomás’s mouth deeply. “A very, very long time. Our adventure hasn’t even begun.”