That week was extremely hard on Corey. And it was only Tuesday. He had the weekend off and kinda wallowed in his misery and shed pity with his guitar and dark songs. The old friend of his self-hatred raised its head again, throughout the weekend leaving the mostly drunk man sink into new depths, or in the old ones just more painfully.
He was irritated with everything and the fact that his coworkers were plain idiots didn't help much on his mood. Like... how hard was it to look at the wall where the list of duties were pinned and actually get the fucking meat out of the freezer in time??? Fucking morons...
He kept cursing as he already couldn't feel his fingers in the still ice-cold ground beef he was stirring to knead together with the spices for the burgers tomorrow. It had to stay in the fridge and let the spices work their magic for a day to make the burger juicy and taste that special flavor that started to draw more and more people into the place. Even then the motel was full. Only the one bigger room was free beside the apartment Corey lived in. And as he heard that morning, someone got into there too.
His heavy leather-boots banged against the diner's floor as Jim walked to a corner table, far from everyone. His black jeans were starting to get dirty from wearing it for too long. He should go check out the clothing store a block down the road. Maybe they have some clothes that would fit him. There weren't many buildings around this stop next to the highway, but that's how he liked it. At least the food was awesome. Even if his depression was lurking around the corner, trying to drag him down, Jim still had to eat. And when he was under stress, his appetite only seemed to grow. In prison – even if working in the kitchen – that urge could be controlled somewhat. Now he had to have kind of a firm grip on that urge because his cash was limited. Chris gave him a few thousands, but Jim didn't know how long he'd have to wait until that call came with the directions to that cabin in the woods. And later he'd have to find some job to be able to afford food.
He was no stranger to living as a nomad and that separate cabin sounded like heaven after such a crowded place as prison. Maybe there he'd be able to finally relax, because even in this diner – although he looked calm on the outside – he was still tense. At least there was no TV there with the news on. Maybe the hunt after him was broadcasted only in Illinois state. This was Iowa, out in the middle of nowhere. Hopefully people didn't give a shit about strangers like him and his mean biker look gave him enough privacy to get lost in his own thoughts.
"What can I get you, sir?" he suddenly heard as a pretty blond waitress stopped by his table.
Glimpsing up from behind his sunglasses he ordered one of those kickass strong coffees and of course a double cheese burger with fries and some apple pie to somewhat satisfy his cake craving. Food in prison was half as bad as they say, but here everything seemed to taste great despite the little run-down look of the place and the motel.
That Tuesday was just crap. Corey just had it. Reached his limit – again – and his temper ran short during the day. Really just how hard can it be to actually read the order ticket and start to make the dishes in time??? Like, the fucking place was full and everything could go so well and in sync and rhythm making the food and giving it out one by one not like that moron Peter vanishing for half an hour to flirt with the waitresses THEN giving him six orders AT ONCE.
Corey was throwing pans and pots all over the place, yelling curses about all kind of saints and why those haven't came striking Peter ‘cause now he even burned half his arm with the oil catching flames in the hurry.
Jim was reading the newspaper and sipping on his delicious coffee. It was a relatively nice day. His demons were more or less dormant after 14 hours of sleep. Yes, he was exhausted by the time they got to the cheap motel bed that felt like heaven after riding his bike nearly all night. At least that beauty was an amazing machine. But he didn't expect less from his old MC.
While riding he got all nostalgic. He couldn't describe how amazing it felt being on the road again, the bike purring between his legs as she was eating the miles with ease. Jim remembered all the MCs he used to be part of and the days when he worked as a nomad, too. He thought back on the couple of years he had shared with Cristina too. Luckily Mick managed to save that picture for him from his cell. Now it was tucked safely into his wallet. Jim just wished he had a picture of Corey too. Although he could remember every detail of the beloved face and body. He often saw those amazing blue eyes in his dreams too. Fuck, he missed him so much...
But some loud yelling caught his attention before he could sink too deep into his sorrow. "What's going on?" he asked the obviously annoyed waitress who just put down his food in front of him while Jim folded the paper.
"Nothing to be concerned about. Just some argument among the stuff. I apologize. Enjoy your food."
Corey survived the day somehow with a burned hand. The pain actually was welcomed in his brain. Feeding his self-guilt and harming himself kind of days were back again, and later that night in the cold loneliness of his room he examined the previous razor cuts on his forearm getting infected from the oil burn. Yeah he was always good to fix his problems with a blade… Or almost fix them. The blame he felt for Jim was devastating and he couldn't move himself from it. Maybe he didn't even want to do so that much...
Torturing himself a bit more with cleaning the cuts out and pouring some aftershave on it to sterilize it somewhat made the trick for that night too and he let the hopeless bitter crying, triggered by his physical pain take over him a bit silently while he showered. It was his daily doze of regretting his existence.
It was about midnight when he tried to play the guitar like every night. But after a few attempts of an Iron Maiden song his wounds and burned skin just ached too much and he gave up. He settled in to spend the nigh with Mr. Daniels and some gay porn. He still couldn't sleep normal after all the weeks outside. And as he heard the heavy painful sobs from the other room, his new neighbour couldn't either... Poor guy...
After that late lunch, he did as he planned and got some new clothes for himself. Nothing fancy, just a few band T-shirts, plaid shirts and a couple pairs of jeans. It would do for now and he wanted to travel lightly. With that task out of his way too, he went back into his motel room and opened a bottle of Jack. He couldn't do much but drink, pass out, watch some TV, eat and repeat the circle.
So he did that and the next time he woke up, it was around midnight. Taking a piss then drinking some more, Jim heard some nice guitar tunes. The previous night he couldn't hear it since he got there nearly in the morning. Now it took him only a few moments to realize it was an attempt to play Maiden and although it was hesitant and paused a few times, it broke something in Jim.
That dam that he tried to hold broke through and his painful emotions finally flooded him without stopping. He knew this was coming, but now there was no immediate plan or task to distract him and he was still more than half-drunk as he plopped down onto the edge of the bed and let the first sobs out, tears streaming from his eyes to disappear in the bushy beard Corey used to love so much.
He remembered how he liked to stroke it, how he loved it when it tickled his pale skin... Jim also remembered how Corey played the same Maiden song in that music room. He could clearly see that joy in the insanely blue eyes as he glimpsed at Jim with that cute half-smile of his. The smile he'd never see again. The uncontrollable, heart-breaking crying stopped only while Jim took long swigs from the bottle and let his guilt and pain take over.
After that night the following two days proved that they wouldn’t turn out to be good neighbours with the sad guy. Corey got way too used to not caring about anyone so the guitar playing on full volume till the break of dawn stayed, and the guy next door didn’t really appreciate his musical genius, so to say... Well Corey didn't like him banging on the wall either, so...
He learned later on that the guy was a big biker, and that made Corey hate him even more for 'various reasons' that he didn't shared with no one. The third day he even tipped the – otherwise gorgeous – black bike over with the van he used to bring groceries from a near farm. Oh well… It got nice double white lines from the van's painting, but otherwise not a starch on it. Who travels with such thing must be used to it falling over...
Since Jim wasn't used to alcohol after the time he had spent in prison, usually a bottle per night and later a few beers were all he needed to get wasted in the following days. The crying returned time after time too, but then more and more he just felt numb. He also developed a daily routine with eating breakfast, lunch and dinner in that diner and as he got more familiar with the waitresses, he'd learned that their chef was an asshole. Yeah, he got enough proof of that from the havoc he could cause in the kitchen, but he never got a glimpse of said asshole. But he'd learned that their rooms were right next to each other. So he was that guitar player, who kept him up all night, often waking him from a nice drunken nap with the otherwise pretty badass playing that resulted in Jim banging on the wall more often than not. Really, what a fucker would do that at 4 am???
But what pissed him off even more was that some jackass hurt his baby. Jim was back from his breakfast that day when he saw his bike knocked over, lying on the ground. "Motherfucker!" he shouted then quickly looked around, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to him. After all, he was still hiding...
Cursing under his nose he walked over and lifted the heavy bike back onto its stand. Then he examined the damage. The white paint lines were pretty obvious on the black body of his bike. If he was back in his first MC, he'd totally go after the fucker and break his leg or arm for this. But now he couldn't hunt him down. Walking around the parking lot he noticed the white van of the diner which had two black scratches on its bumper. From there it wasn't hard to figure out that someone who drove the van kicked his bike over. He contemplated about what to do. If he told it in the diner and they involved the police, Jim was fucked. Besides he could fix the damage once he moved on and found a garage somewhere. So it wasn't worth the scene and he decided to let it slip. He had the suspicion that it was that asshole chef, but he had no proof so he didn't go into the diner to drag him out of the kitchen or break down his door to confront him. Instead he tried to calm down with some more alcohol and gay porn, deliberately choosing videos in which the bottom looked nothing like Corey. Jim needed to get off, but didn't need to cry along the whole video while mourning his lost lover...
The days went along. Fucking morons at the kitchen pissing the redhead off and causing him several damages health-wise and cooking-wise also. The nights started to set into the routine of him playing and his neighbour banging the rhythm on the wall.
Corey even tried once or twice to play along with the sound. Yeah he was very wasted… But at that time it was a good idea and was actually fun. One of the rare occasions he didn't feel that pissed and for a few minutes the playing on the guitar didn't bring him sadness from always remembering Jim and how they played in that music room. And how they made passionate love after…
At least the customers and Debby were pleased with his work. Despite the occasional rambling in the kitchen many people came for the quality of the food. That all was taught to him by Jim too. His lover's ghost was always covering him and he wanted both the pain and the nice soft feelings of the sweet memories.
He promised his boss lady to try to slowly heal himself. So he kept writing down his thoughts, slowly forming lyrics for sad love songs. He only needed to make music for it. If some fucker didn't interrupt him every five seconds with that fucking banging. He started getting way too pissed and turned the volume up more.
Jim was getting impatient and irritated about not hearing from Chris yet. Seriously, what was so fucking hard to choose and set up a cabin? With a sigh he tossed the burner phone onto his nightstand and cracked that night's bottle open. He knew if he continued like this, he would have some problems later, but he didn't care for now. He could fit the mean, drinking big biker stereotype better like this anyway, right?
With a bitter chuckle he started surfing on the TV and lit a cigarette too, puffing the smoke into the air. Damn, he wanted to get out of here. He would miss only the awesome food that kept his daddy belly well-fed. He missed Corey nuzzling to it or caressing it after an intense love-making. At least his wound had healed nicely, leaving only a yet angry red scar there.
He was in the middle of a trip down memory lane when that asshole started with his sad songs again. Usually for a while he listened to it when it wasn't too late. But by then Jim realized that he got pissed for other reasons too. Like not having his own guitar, or the fact that there were parts the dude couldn't work out while Jim knew how those parts could be much better. But who was he to butt in into some stranger's business? Even if it was about guitars. Like so often in prison, he found himself moving his hands as if he was playing.
For a couple of hours it was fine, but when both the booze and his patience were running thin, he began his usual knocking on the wall. Which only resulted in the asshat turning up the volume.
"That's it!" he grunted, stumbling out of the bed barefooted, wearing only a pair of boxers and Slipknot T-shirt as he marched to his neighbour's door and started banging on it so loud that it would draw in even zombies.
"What the fuck? Wanna join the jamming, asshat?" Corey grumbled hitting the strings hard and laughing loud.
He might as well open it up and have a convo over how annoying it is when a creative process is disturbed by that fucking wall-hitting he often did out of rhythm too. Motherfucker...
"What's up dude? Can't stand rock 'n' roll?" he grumbled opening the door. Then dropped the unlit cigarette from his hand... "It's… It's you? J-Jim?" He mumbled frozen in shock.
Why the fuck did that guy have to have a similar voice and laughing to Corey's too? Was the universe so cruel to him that it reminded him of the little redhead even now?
But the second the door was going to open – because he was not stopping with the banging until that – Jim was going to tell his piece to that asshole chef! He already opened his mouth to start when the door opened and then the room started to spin and it had nothing to do with the booze still sloshing in his veins – although staring at the short man in front of him was quite the sobering experience.
"No fucking way... Corey?" he mumbled. It couldn't be. Corey was dead. He was a hallucination or some shit. But although this guy's hair was somewhat longer and there were huge dark circles under his eyes and he looked slimmer too, he looked and talked like Corey and he obviously recognized him.
"Stop the fucking loud playing. I can't sleep..." he blurted out what he wanted to say at the first place. He knew it was stupid and out of place the second he said it, but whatever. He was too shocked as he stepped into the room and banged the door shut behind him.
Corey just stared with round eyes and an open mouth at his “dead” lover walking into his apartment, closing the door.
"Yeah? Well stop banging on the wall ‘cause I can't play…" he shot back just blinking at the tall man before him. He looked tired and worn out but it was Jim… His Jim... "Fucking asshole, I thought they killed you..." he mumbled and dived at the bigger body, hugging it as tight as he could, crying low.
"Well, fuck you! I was told the same!" he yelled as his long arms wrapped around the small shaking body, his own silent tears starting to flow now that the first shock was starting to slowly ebb down. Then he couldn't stop a chuckle which soon turned into a laugh.
What a twisted joke of fate! They both were mourning while living in neighbouring rooms! It must be what's called a cosmic joke. Because seriously, what was the chance of that?!
"Corey... Corey, baby..." Jim cupped his head and made him look up at him so he could look into those beloved blue eyes that were red and full of tears right now, but Jim found them just as beautiful. "How are you alive? How is this possible?" he whispered hoarsely. "My beautiful boy..." he murmured and his voice failed him at the end.
"Is this your fucking diner? Cause I make the burgers here now," Corey sniffed then laughed too. It seemed that he’d found the exact motel and diner after all. "Davis’ two men tied me up and kidnapped me. Took me up to Wisconsin then let me run. They saw that behind all the stories that you and I are trying to overtake the other gangs was spread by Jay. They told me Jay took care of you too…" he swallowed and hid his face in Jim's tee.
"Yeah, it is. And the burgers are much better than I remembered," Jim smiled down at him lovingly, caressing the flushed cheeks, wiping away a few teardrops while listening to Corey's story. It all made sense now.
Letting Corey hide his face in his tee, Jim sighed, rubbing the shorter man's back. It felt narrower than he remembered. "Well, Jay did take care of me. He stabbed me right here in my belly," he said pulling back enough to show the scar on his right side under the tee. "I was kept in the hospital wing after Davis' men roughed me up too. They killed Sid when he refused to give up on the Root gang. Alex, Craig and the others joined Shawn's crew which surprisingly stayed out of all this. But I'm sure Jay will get what he deserves sooner or later. Mick helped me escape in a transport van, faking some medical papers for me. He had to vanish too cuz of Jay. I helped him do that through my former MC. And now... I'm here. I'm fucking here with you! I can't believe it. Corey... I thought I'd never see you again," he said hoarsely then leaned down to finally kiss those missed lips with all his love.
Corey hugged Jim's neck, pulling him down and drinking in the loving kiss of those beloved moustache-covered lips. "I thought you died cause of me…" he said once he could tear himself away to breathe. His fingertips caressed gently over the scar on his lover's belly. "Karma has to pay back a lot to Jay. I should have ripped his throat when I was there…" he mumbled but couldn't stop touching the warm skin of his daddy now that he was back in his arms again. "I won't leave you… If you still want me…" he looked up into the hazel eyes with desire and love, meaning his words. He would never want to leave this man's side again.
"I thought the same. I thought you became the third person who had died cuz of me... I couldn't fully break down until I got here," Jim confessed, enjoying the gentle and very much missed touches of his lover. "I don't give a shit about Jay any more. He's digging his own grave and he'll realize it only when it's going to be too late. I don't want to think about him or anyone in that prison. Just you. Us..." Jim sighed reaching up to caress Corey's hair. He should soon shave the sides, he noticed.
"You mean it..." Jim murmured under his moustache more to himself seeing that look. His own fears he had no idea he had eased up from that. "Although you're free now. Everyone thinks you're dead. You can go do whatever you want. I wouldn't stop you... I'm still wanted and hunted by the police. I can only offer hiding for fuck knows how long. Think about it. You really want it? With me?" he asked and looked back at him a bit unsure and hopeful.
"Of course! I almost went crazy without you. It's perfect this way. I can work anywhere or arrange things for you. Like your good boy. If you still want me, daddy…" Corey smiled teasingly at Jim, pushing his body to the bigger one. "I really want it. All of it… I've been missing it so much…" he moaned kissing Jim's throat through the beard.
Jim thought he'd never hear Corey call him like that again and it made him feel hot and bothered in seconds. That small body pressing to him still fit him so, so well he wanted to cry again just from that as relief washed over him. "Of course I want you. I'll always want you. You belong to me. We belong together, my beautiful boy," he closed his eyes, enjoying the throat-kiss, one big hand massaging Corey's nape and neck, the other holding him close as if he never wanted to let him go. Which he didn't want to do, of course. Not after all the hardships they had to go through.
It was so strange not feeling that certain fabric of their orange jumpsuits under his fingertips as he finally slid his hands down to the hem of Corey's tee to pull it over his head and then Jim moaned from the sight. He only paused when he’d noticed the healing burn and the cut marks on Corey’s forearm, but aside from a gentle caress at the edge of them, he didn’t say a word, just dived down for a passionate and demanding kiss, backing Corey towards the messy bed like an unstoppable force of nature.
Corey's knees went weak in seconds from that demanding kiss. He let himself be guided to the bed and holding onto his daddy he dropped back on top of it, pulling Jim on top of him, moaning into the kiss and his legs crossed over Jim's waist at once, his fingers lost in the longer hair, feeling alive once again.
Covering that small body again made Jim groan into the kiss, loving Corey's legs and arms around him. He'd missed his touches, taste and smell so fucking badly! Sucking on the plump lips he opened his eyes, looking at the flushed face admiringly. It was still hard for Jim to believe this was actually happening. That this wasn't just one of those vivid dreams that feel so real that in the morning it's hard to convince yourself it wasn't true.
But the erection against his felt very much real, but the clothes in the way annoyed the biker so he pulled back enough to drag Corey's brief's off then he got rid off his own clothes too, moaning once their naked cocks could finally slide against each other, the greedy and nearly desperate kisses back as Jim kept rocking against his love.
"Oh fucking yesss..." Corey threw his head back against the bed, lifting his hips to brush himself more to that very much missed and in his opinion perfect cock, not holding his groans and moans back at all. His nails dug hard into the Jim’s back and soon he peeled off the Slipknot tee too just to pull the other man closer to himself. "Bite me… Please daddy, bite me ‘cause I need to know that I'm not dreaming…" he moaned holding onto Jim's neck, biting and kissing it along with that amazing big beard as if his life depended on it.
Jim hissed from the nails in his back and neck, but loved every second of it and they only made him growl approvingly and grabbed Corey right under his jaw to turn his head upwards and a bit to the side to bare that thick neck and then he bit hard into the crook of it, sucking and chewing on the flesh as if he wanted to bite a piece out of his lover, his hips rolling faster and harder against Corey's groin, feeling their wetness mix.
It was pushing Jim deeper into his own lust and after soothing the already dark bite with his tongue, he looked at Corey's face, pressing a gentle kiss against the slack lips. "I fucking missed your sounds... Keep singing for daddy, my good boy," he whispered then letting his throat go, Jim slid lower on the bed to spread the redhead's legs wider and lick along the tasty and very hard cock there. In no time he was sucking on it while his wet fingertips were teasing that clenching hole he's been dreaming of, but didn't let Corey push down on them just yet.
Corey wasn't disappointing his daddy at all. There was no hand over his mouth or the thought in the back of his mind that he had to be silent in the half-light of their prison cell. His rich voice grumbled in the thick strong throat and his moans and passionate cries echoed from the walls.
"Fucking... hell... Fuck, daddy… Please... I… I want to feel you…" he practically whined and wiggled for those long fingers. It was heaven and hell having Jim with him once again and he missed the touches and rough kisses so fucking much. Hell, he even missed the teasing too. But it's been so, so long and the feelings made him lose his mind and his dick jerk ready to shoot into that hot wet amazing mouth working on it.
Jim groaned around the cock in his mouth, sucking on it good and hard a few more times from all the noise Corey was making. Somehow he didn't mind it this time that the "asshole chef" was too loud. And man, he could get fucking loud now that he didn't have to hold his voice back like in prison!
Sliding off the tasty meat with a loud pop, Jim grinned and let his beard brush against the sensitive skin on his way down to lick and suck on the exposed hole passionately, his tongue and a finger soon finding their way inside, his other hand caressing Corey wherever he could reach him. It was hard for him to hold back too, but his lover still needed some stretching so he worked in his fingers and more of his spit as fast as he dared. Then he was kneeling there, watching the wet tip finally pressing against the glistening entrance and Jim pushed and pushed, groaning loud himself from that beloved tight heat surrounding him once again.
Fucking finally!!! Corey cursed and could swear to anything that if he let himself, he would come from just the feeling of Jim's cock sliding slowly inside him once again. He fantasized so much about this. Them outside and no time limits and actually no limits about how and when they make love. Even after he got to the motel he couldn't help to not bring up his memories of their sexual life with his daddy.
"Fucking move and don't hold back..." his mind was reacting to his body's burning and forgot the important parts. "Please, daddy… I need you…"
"No... no holding back this time... Need you just as much," he panted as he slid out slowly until only his tip stayed in, his intense eyes glued to the face he couldn't stop staring at then he rammed into Corey, crying out from the intense feeling along with his boy.
After pulling his lover's legs and arms around him and covering his body with his bigger one, building up a fast and rough pace that would make the bed creak and bang against the wall behind them wasn't hard. They could finally love each other without the need to hold back or stay quiet and Jim unleashed everything on Corey that he couldn't beforehand. His balls were slapping against the small ass as he screwed into him as deep as he could go. His hands cradled the other man's head, pulling on his hair while his teeth left marks on the sweaty skin wherever he felt like it, marking Corey his. "Mine! You're mine. Say it!" he growled like an animal, completely lost in the pleasures and need for this small man.
"Yours. All yours, daddy…" Corey breathed between his lustful groans. He could cry his heart out right then and there from all the emotions. The need and want and love Jim was giving him. And the small man melted into a puddle of feels under his daddy.
He didn't even know where he scratched or touched Jim. He kissed the side of his head while his daddy was chewing on his neck, moving in sync with those amazing hips. He was balancing on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm and didn't even want to hold back.
"Yes... yes," Jim groaned into Corey's neck, his fingers curling into fists as he accelerated the speed of his thrusts some more, ready to shoot. This was what he's been missing so much. Not just the sex, but to do it with Corey and getting this fucking close to him, moving, breathing and existing as one.
"Give it to me, my boy... take daddy with you," he uttered the magic words and then he was shooting his load into that perfect tight body under him, fully giving in to the pleasures and his own emotions too.
The command was just mere protocol, really… Corey didn't need to be allowed, he was out of his mind and hearing Jim’s deep animalistic voice talking to him made him lose it hard. Body trembling and jerking as he shot his load over them, howling his pleasure long and clinging onto Jim with all his strength as his inner-walls were milking his daddy dry.
It felt as if Jim's mind completely melted. The only thing he could do was to feel. And it was overwhelming and so good. Happiness was a rare thing in his life, but being still one with Corey, covered in their bodily fluids and inhaling that beloved scent again, Jim was truly happy. He felt complete again.
Now he dared to believe that this wasn't a dream as they were holding on to each other tight. He never wanted to let Corey go and if it depended on him, it'd never happen again. He meant what he said: they belonged together. The time that was forced on them to be apart had only confirmed what he already knew: a life without Corey wouldn't be much of a life. "I missed you so much. I love you," he whispered once he was able to talk again, but he didn't move.
"I missed you too. Love you so much, daddy. Promise me that we’ll never be apart again. Please…" Corey whispered back, kissing Jim wherever he could, caressing the kinda bloody back with love and tenderness. He meant his words, he never again wanted to lose this man he felt so close and one with. He didn't care if they had to hide for the rest of their lives or run from the police, but he wanted to stay by Jim's side. He wanted that locked up even, so them being outside and alive already was a big plus. Hearing Jim whisper the promise and kiss him deeply was the perfect serum for a much needed sleep for them both, cuddling tight.