“You fuckin’ bastard,” Michaels hissed. He trembled against that hard body pressed against him. He didn’t know if it was the extreme way the cortisol which flooded his system during the fight was replaced by chemicals released during orgasm that had him feeling high, but he closed his eyes and shuddered hard as his release got closer. He berated his traitorous cock. How had Judge overtaken him so quickly? He couldn’t let him have this much control over him. His anger was his and his alone. His orgasm was building fast and he pushed at Judge’s chest.
“Stop it,” Judge snarled. He had to take his hand off Michaels’ cock in order to hold him. Those soft lips were pressed against the shell of his ear. “Michaels, are you just mad at the world? Or are you mad at me?”
“Get off me. You hate me, right? You don’t want to talk; you don’t want shit to do with me. So get the fuck off me.” Michaels jerked out of Judge’s hold but he didn’t try to get past him to the door. Judge’s mouth was right there. So close to his. He wanted to kiss him hard. Punish him. Hated how much he did.
Judge didn’t back up. Instead he used the back of his hand and drug it across Michaels’ cock. “I don’t hate you,” he whispered. “It’s killing me how much I don’t hate you.”
The door to the bathroom slammed open. Michaels heard a couple of men come in, talking to each other about the traffic. Judge quietly closed and locked their stall while Michaels put his deflating cock back in his pants. The men were only a few stalls down; hopefully they wouldn’t bother looking around. He was pretty sure if those guys found two men in a stall together it wouldn’t end well.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michaels was going to be the death of him. Dude had some serious anger management problems. Judge knew all about those problems. Angry at everything, everyone. He knew he hadn’t helped by blowing up at Michaels for no reason, especially after he’d been so nice to his family. But Michaels had retreated into his rage before Judge could even apologize. He knew the wild detective was pissed but he hadn’t been prepared for what he’d seen when he went into the men’s room. Barely controlled madness. Michaels’ nerves were worn paper-thin. But Judge knew exactly what to do. His cock was pulsing with excitement to do it.
He’d had Michaels where he wanted him, relaxed and compliant against that wall. Until those idiots busted in. Now they were standing there face to face, waiting on two men to finish taking the longest piss in history. Michaels licked his lips, drawing Judge’s attention down to his mouth. He seriously had him reconsidering his firm no kissing rule. He ran the pad of his one thumb along that plump bottom lip, feeling it quiver under his touch. Michaels’ eyes closed briefly, focusing back on him when they opened. That’s right. Eyes on me, gorgeous. He wanted to kiss him. Damnit. Follow the rules. Judge leaned in closer, their breaths mingling. Kissing meant something; a lot could be said with a kiss. Kissing spoke of being cherished and special. He veered to the side and sucked lightly on Michaels’ neck. It was beautiful how he arched to give him more room. He stayed there, licking and tasting until the door closed behind those men. Michaels groaned, used Judge’s belt loops to pull them closer together.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Judge licked beneath Michaels’ ear. “I understand your urges. I truly do. I know the feeling of wanting to hit, to fight until that anger leaves you.” Judge scrubbed his beard against Michaels’ jaw, nuzzling and basking in that scent of fury before he ended with, “I just don’t want you to fight me.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” Michaels confessed. “I don’t want to be angry.”
“I know.”
“I can’t fix it.”
“I can.” Judge winked.
“How?”
“When we get to the hotel I’m going to show you.” Judge unlocked the stall and led them out of the bathroom. He couldn’t get to that damn hotel quickly enough.
When they were back in the truck, Judge couldn’t help but notice how stiff Michaels was next to him. Surely his back was bunched up in knots and his neck was red, like if Judge reached over and touched him, he’d get burned. Although the air conditioning was set on max cold and the interior was cool, Michaels had beads of sweat trickling slowly down his temples into the rough hairs on his chin. He was on the edge, ready to snap. Michaels fidgeted in his seat and gripped the door handle, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed the leather. Bookem whined, sensing Michaels’ stress, rising up on his haunches to stick his head between the seats. Michaels exhaled shakily, reaching over to pat Book’s head.