Wednesday Briefs #23 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014

Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and is posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers. 

If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.

Owen groaned and stretched his limbs, his muscles and bones aching worse than any collateral pain caused from overexertion. Damn, if he had to feel like he’d run up a mountain carrying a forty pound pack, at least it could have been because he’d actually had done it. One complaint he didn’t have was that he was cold...Actually, he was a little too warm, and the source of heat coming from behind him. When he tried to roll over, he hit a wall. Not a wall a person. Owen froze, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. Oh, shit! Who had the demon attacked this time? Why couldn’t he remember any of it? Why was he still in control of his body?

Flashes of their escape from the hospital, the bullets, Wes and Malcom, the broken IV bag...attacking Turk, trying to choke the life from him, his fingers digging mercilessly into the flesh of his neck, were all too much. The memory clawed at the inside of his skin and he bolted upright. A hand grabbed his arm and Owen squealed like a little girl.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Owen twisted to find Turk lying behind him. Owen’s lips moved but nothing coherent came out. A gentle smile caressed Turk’s lips, and he looked relaxed, as if they’d woken in bed together hundreds of times before. As if Owen didn’t have a demon inside of him with a hard on to kill Turk.

Not Turk...the Hunter.

“What...what are you doing? It’s not safe here.” Owen glanced down at his unbound hands and legs. Despite the IV once again suppressing the Incubus, Owen still feared for Turk.

Turk sat up, yet his hand still gripped Owen’s arm, as if he knew Owen would bolt. And he was right. The further Owen could get from Turk, from everyone, the better.

Soft, brown eyes, reminiscent of when they’d first met, brought a blush to Owen’s cheeks. The heat in his face matched the heat in his groin courtesy of his close proximity to Turk. That rich, manly scent tickled Owen’s nose, flashing him back to that first kiss next to Otter Creek. Owen’s eyes flicked down to Turk’s lips, a pale blush of pink. How he wanted to taste the sweetness again. Feel Turk's arms close around him and suck and bite and own Owen’s lips.

A low whiskey-laced chuckle escaped Turk. His smile was a gift that Owen had been sure he’d never receive again.

“Really, it’s okay. You’re hooked back up to the IV.”

Owen glanced at the tube pumping fluid into his vein, giving him a temporary reprieve from his permanent resident. Silent for now but not forgotten.

Owen frowned. “He tried to kill you. He’s inside of me. Who knows when he’ll pop back up and finish the job?” An icy panic wended its way from the darkest corners of his mind. His greatest fear had almost come true last night.  “He’s not going to stop. He will never stop until he’s shoved me aside in my mind and take over and killed you!”

Owen tried to yank his arm free from Turk’s grasp, desperate to put distance between the man he wanted more than anything and the Incubus. He wouldn’t survive knowing he’d put Turk in harm’s way.

The hand on his arm tightened. “Owen, just listen.”

Listen? No running was the only plan, the only way to protect Turk.

“I have to get out of here. Get away from you!”

Owen jerked at his arm again but damn, Turk was strong.  It didn’t help that in the past two weeks of being strapped to a bed, Owen’s muscles had atrophied.

“And where are you planning on going?”

He hadn’t thought that much ahead. He wouldn’t get far dragging an IV pole but despite that, at least Turk would be safe. Hey, Owen wouldn’t have claimed it to be a rational plan. “Just let me go!”

Owen kicked his legs over the side of the bed but Turk yanked him backward. Before Owen could utter a protest, Turk leapt up and straddled his hips. With a solid grip on both of Owen’s upper arms, Turk had him pinned to the mattress. That didn’t stop Owen from weakly fighting back.

“Please, get away from me! Tie me up...It’s not safe for you! For anyone!”

Owen’s attempts to buck Turk off were fruitless. The mischievous glint in Turk’s eye kindled Owen’s growing ire at Turk’s lack of self-preservation.

“Are you fucking crazy? He wants you dead!”

Turk nodded and with a smirk said, “I got that memo.”

Owen went still, puzzling over the drastic change in Turk. No longer the Hunter from the hospital, Turk was once again that playful and charming man Owen had first met, the one who’d flirted with him as they’d sat in the Mustang. The only plausible explanation...Owen had died and this was his twisted version an afterlife.

Turk’s smirk morphed into a grin. Sexy. “You look confused.”

Owen’s raised his eyebrows. He was past confused and well into a bad case of bewilderment. Although, his attention was continually forced to his groin where Turk’s ass currently rested.

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Old saggy balls. Nose hairs. Beer bellies.

Nope, not working.  Turk’s gaze was unyielding. Flecks of bronze in his brown irises caught in the eastern sun radiating through the window, flushing his face with a golden glow. White teeth peeked between those luscious lips. Owen minutely shook his head. This was the worse idea in the history of bad ideas.

Stop noticing his beautiful eyes, his strong chin, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners...the memory his lips soft against yours...

Turk leaned down, bending his elbows so he could continue to capture Owen’s arms. As he brought his face closer, Owen tensed, praying this wasn’t a game and Turk would spit in his face or something worse. No matter what, Owen had to stop this insanity.

“Don’t,” he whispered, totally unimpressed by the lack of effort but not surprised. If his dick were any indication of his desire to kiss Turk, he’d give it a ten out of ten.

Without input, Owen closed his eyes as soft lips brushed his.

Don’t kiss him. Don’t—

Owen groaned as Turk’s tongue snaked out and entered his mouth.

Way to resist. Open up and invite him in.

The gentle glide of lips intensified and Owen pushed his head up to increase the pressure. A hot tingle pulsed from Owen’s lips, zipping along his nerves and shooting into his cock, which Turk’s ass currently rubbed against. Oh yeah, nothing could have stopped Owen from bucking up against that luscious hard ass.

Turk snarled and pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving, his heated breath fanning Owen’s face. The liquid heat filling his eyes clenched at Owen’s gut.

“Fuck.”

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