by E M Lindsey
“Hernk,” the duck said, his voice getting hoarse and tired.
“It’s all right, there. You’ll be fine until the storm passes. Then I’ve a friend you’ll want to meet, and probably a good meal.”
The duck stared at him with a round, beady eye, but had settled against his hand, and Collin thought maybe he was making a little progress.
“You’re good at that.”
The sound of Spencer’s voice startled him, disturbing the duck as Collin ripped his hand away and stood. Spencer wasn’t nearly as soaked as Collin was, but close, and he was still in the damned dressing gown. “You like ruining my things?”
Spencer rolled his eyes, tugging the bit of cloth around him even tighter. “It was the most comfy thing you owned, and I was cold. You two left me alone in there.”
Collin softened when he heard the tension in Spencer’s voice. The bratty attitude belied his embarrassed truth—he’d been scared and lonely. Taking a step closer, he breathed out, then reached up to hook a knuckle under Spencer’s chin. His head tilted willingly, his eyes going a little wide, pupils a little dilated. “We’d never leave you.”
Spencer scoffed, trying to pull back, but Collin clamped a hand around his wrist and tugged. He didn’t know what the bloody hell he was playing at right now—not with these two. They belonged together, not to him, but while they were here, it was impossible not to reach out and take what was so willingly given.
“You’re kind of a dick.”
Collin shrugged, bringing his hand around to cup the back of Spencer’s neck. He liked the way it made his breath hitch, the way it made him press his body harder against Collin’s. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I bet you have,” Spencer told him, but this time, his tone was playful. His bare feet rose until his nose met Collin’s chin. “I really didn’t like it though. Waking up alone. It pretty much sucked.”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Collin confessed, and that was the raw truth. “You’d been through enough last night.”
“You two did a pretty damn good job at helping me forget,” Spencer reminded him, and Collin laughed darkly.
“Reckon we did. Reckon we have time to forget a little more.”
Spencer reached his hand up, toying with the collar of Collin’s shirt which was likely ruined by now. “Max said we’re not getting out of here today.”
“It’s unlikely,” Collin told him. “I caught a glimpse of the roads and they’re totally washed out. There’s another front moving in—probably worse than the last.” His hands moved down to Spencer’s hips, and he walked him back, a slow pace until his ass bumped the edge of Collin’s work table. “We might be here a while.”
“I guess we’ll have to make the best of it,” Spencer said, voice breathy and soft.
The wanton desire in Spencer’s tone went right to Collin’s dick. He was half-hard again, just from thinking about the way Max had tasted, the way Max had writhed and come all over the bark of a tree. Right now, he wanted to strip them both down—he wanted to spread Max’s ass cheeks and stare at the skin, pink from his beard. He wanted to slide up between Spencer’s thighs and suck him while Max watched.
“I have some ideas,” Collin told him. He wanted all those things, yes. But right now, he had Spencer all to himself and he wanted that too. A small, uncertain part of him didn’t want to be right about Max and Spencer being better for each other without him. He had spent the better part of yesterday watching Spencer desperate for a scrap of Max’s attention. Spencer had openly flirted with Collin, yes, but he hadn’t looked at him that way.
His thoughts were cut off when Spencer reached up, dragging a thumb over Collin’s bottom lip. He glanced down, Spencer’s gaze capturing his own, and there was heat in his eyes and unabashed need.
“Kiss me,” Spencer murmured.
Collin chuckled, leaning his head, letting their lips brush, but not giving in just yet. “Is that an order, darling?”
“Fuck,” Spencer growled. He fisted the back of Collin’s shirt, trying to drag him in, but Collin refused to give in. “Do I have to beg, here?”
The image of Spencer on his knees, sobbing with need, begging to be touched, almost had him coming in his pants like a teenage boy. He swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself. “I don’t hate that idea.”
“Fucking…of course you don’t,” Spencer growled. “You and Max are both…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Collin had let his pretty mouth dominate the conversation long enough. He hauled Spencer in by the front of the robe, roughly parting Spencer’s thighs with his knees before shoving his own between them. Spencer’s skin was hot, a little damp from running to the barn in the rain, and he was hard. His dick pulsed against Collin’s leg as Collin thrust upward, and then finally kissed him.
Spencer groaned a sound of relief and want as Collin’s tongue pushed into his mouth, tasting his own toothpaste and something else, something sweet. Everything about him was delicate, not quite dainty, but softer than Max would ever be, and Collin loved the juxtaposition of it. He curled one hand into Spencer’s hair, forcing his head back, then tore his mouth away from Spencer’s to suck a bruise just below his ear.
“Shit. Fuck…are you…”
“Mm,” Collin said against his skin. He pulled back to examine his work, pressing his thumb to the spot. When Spencer hissed in pain, Collin licked a stripe up his neck to soothe him, then returned to his mouth for another deep kiss.
This time, his hand snuck between the folds of the robe, and he let Spencer swallow his moan when he realized the other man was not wearing pants. He was entirely naked under Collin’s robe, his dick leaving smears of precum. A rush of possession hit him, and he couldn’t stop himself from lifting Spencer by the hips and forcing him down onto the table.
The robe protected him from splinters, but if Collin had his way, Spencer would be returning to the house with his pretty skin marked up in more ways than one. He used his trembling fingers to pry Spencer’s legs apart, then tugged on the tie that held the robe together. It fell off to the side, opening Spencer’s front to the chill of the barn air.
Behind them, the duck quacked feebly.
Collin refused to get distracted, refused to let Spencer’s mind be anywhere else except on him. Bracing his hands on the table on either side of Spencer’s hips, the wood bit into his palms, and Collin lowered his head to the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. He kissed there first, warming the skin before dragging his chin across. Spencer groaned, pulling away like he wanted it to stop, but grabbing Collin by the back of his head like he wanted him to go on.
He loved that he was getting Spencer twisted, and he wanted him so mixed up, he didn’t know right from left.
“Put your hands on the table next to mine,” Collin ordered.
Spencer’s hands spasmed against the back of his head. “Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you want to come, and you’ll get to come if you do what I say.” He glanced up then, his eyes soft because he wanted Spencer to know that he was going to take care of him—that he was going to make it good, make him cry, but this time with pleasure. “Trust me?”
Spencer swallowed, then carefully moved his hands off Collin’s head.
“Thank you, my darling,” Collin told him quietly. He watched as Spencer’s blush darkened, making his faint freckles stand out a little more. With a breath, Collin’s hands drifted toward Spencer’s hips, grabbing them firmly and holding him in place. He took one last look at Spencer’s face before he lowered his mouth, then took the head of Spencer’s dick between his lips.
The tang of him, a slow dribble from the slit of his cock, dragged along Collin’s tongue. He was so different from Max—from the way he tasted, to those soft little sounds he made when Collin sucked him all the way to the base. He could feel him throbbing, feel him growing closer just from this alone, and Collin knew it wouldn’t take long.
He pulle
d back with a hard suck, his hands keeping Spencer from thrusting. He glanced up once or twice, and it was the look of utter euphoria on Spencer’s face that took the edge off the sting in Collin’s back. He was not a young man anymore—he hadn’t been young in far too many years. His body was not built for this, but he knew, in that moment, he’d sacrifice every one of his comforts to make these men happy.
And what a strange thought—both welcome and unwelcome. He shouldn’t feel like this after two days, but it was so much stronger than he’d ever felt for Grant. Not even in the beginning was it like this. He had always assumed he was not destined for a life of passion, but now…
“Stop.”
Spencer’s voice broke through, and Collin tore his mouth away instantly, rising to meet Spencer’s gaze. “I’m sorry. Did I…”
“Kiss me,” Spencer said. His trembling voice was barely above a whisper, but his tone was so desperate, it made Collin’s knees weak. “Please. I want to kiss you while I come.”
Collin couldn’t deny him anything. Forty-eight hours, and he was already so fucked. He leaned in, wrapping Spencer’s legs around his waist, then pressed one hand to the small of his back, grabbing his spit-slick cock with the other. It slid through the tight ring of his fingers, and when Spencer was gasping, hips jerking upward, Collin leaned his mouth in and gave the man what he wanted.
The kiss was a mess—all teeth, sloppy tongue, stuttered by Spencer’s cry as he seized up and came all over the front of Collin’s waders. The rubber would clean off easily, but some had soaked into the robe, and he didn’t hate the idea of leaving it there.
Spencer came down in fits and bursts, calm breaths followed by a hitched half-sob, and he collapsed against Collin’s front, leaning into his warm embrace. Collin soothed him the way he’d done with animals—a slow, firm hand stroking down his back, and he could feel the heavy thud of Spencer’s heart starting to ease up.
A crack of thunder had Spencer all but leaping into his arms, and Collin held him tight. “We should get back to the house. Max is waiting.” Part of him hated that he had to break this moment, that it had to be interrupted, but a bigger part of him wanted Max to be part of this too.
Spencer sighed, nodding, then he hooked his chin on Collin’s shoulder and just sat there a long moment. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”
“Max is fine,” Collin started, but Spencer’s soft chuckle interrupted him.
“Not him. The duck.”
Rolling his eyes, Collin pulled back, using his steady fingers to readjust the robe so it was tied on tight. “The duck is going to be fine. This place doesn’t flood and he’s meant for inclement weather. That’s what all those feathers are for.”
Spencer rolled his eyes as he hopped off the table and held Collin for a moment as he regained his balance. “He would have died though, wouldn’t he?”
Collin licked his lips, glancing back at the duck who had finally tucked his head around backward and buried his beak in his uninjured wing. “Probably. That happens out here. Nature’s a fickle beast and I can’t save them all.”
“But you saved him,” Spencer pointed out, then looked at him. “Why?”
Collin felt heat creep up his neck, but he knew it would be impossible to lie to him. “Max asked me what you would do.”
Spencer’s lips parted in faint shock. “I…oh. And you…”
“And I knew exactly what you’d do. So I did that.”
Spencer drew his bottom lip between his teeth before letting it go with a slow drag. “But ...why?”
Collin knew the answer to that, and this time, there was no hesitation when he spoke. “Because in the short time I’ve known you, you’ve shown me that sometimes—even if nature wouldn’t have been as kind—it’s worth it.”
Chapter 20
Spencer's Second Greatest Disappointment
Spencer pulled the robe closed, concealing his naked, cum-covered body. What he wanted to do was push Collin down and ride him until he came apart. He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like with Collin. He imagined the way his beard would feel, scratching at Spencer’s neck. His rough hands would command Spencer’s body, bend it to his will.
Hawnk!
Spencer gave the bird a sad look and hitched his robe tighter. His stupid cock was already half hard again and now was not the time. “We can’t just leave him out here.”
Collin gave Spencer an incredulous look and he seemed as though he was about to argue with him, but then Collin nodded and trudged over to the bird. He made a soft cooing sound, soothing the poor injured thing as he again scooped it up into his arms. “Let’s get back to the house then, before this rain gets any worse.”
Spencer nodded and dashed out of the barn toward the house. He had been warm in the oversized robe, but the rain soaked it almost through by the time they reached the porch. When they got through the door and into the house, Spencer shivered, but put his focus on the bird and Robert, who appeared at his feet, interested in what was going on.
“How bad is it hurt?” Spencer asked.
“Busted wing. I can set it and wrap it.”
Spencer put his hands out. “First you’re going to change into something dry. I’ll try to warm him up in the meantime.” If the bird was half as cold as Spencer, he’d need it.
“It won’t take more than a few minutes to get the bird settled.”
“Is arguing with common sense a British thing, or just a Collin thing?” Spencer reached out and gently put his hands on the bird and eased it out of Collin’s arms. “Get changed. If you die of pneumonia, Max and I will never make it off this mountain.”
“Speak for yourself, sweetheart.” Max appeared, his hair now towel dried, and handed a stack of dry clothes and a towel to Collin. “I’d make it down just fine.”
Hawnk!
“Do we have anything the bird can eat? He’ll need something. And we’ll need some nesting material for him. A box, some blankets or towels, rags, something warm.” Spencer had kicked into rescue mode and while not all of his knowledge was transferable between feline and fowl, the basics would be the same. Food. Water. Warmth.
Collin peeled his soaked garments off right there in the kitchen, so much for modesty, and to Spencer’s disappointment, he was dried and redressed in just a minute or so. “Park his arse under some blankets, Max. He’s going to shiver himself to death. I’ll get some supplies then tend to the bird.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” Max steered Spencer to the couch. “You should take the robe off. It’s drenched.”
Spencer grinned. “Eager to see me naked, are you?”
“Yes.” Max rolled his eyes. “Because you’re so hot when you’re half dead from hypothermia, holding a duck.”
“Give me that towel and we’ll wrap up Dudley first.”
“Dudley?” Max questioned. He helped Spencer wrap the injured bird in the towel, being careful of the broken wing, while leaving it exposed so Collin could fix it.
“Dudley the Duck.”
“It suits him.”
Collin returned with a cardboard box, a roll of gauze, and some old ragged looking towels. “What suits him?”
“Dudley.”
A smile teased at Collin’s lips. “Give me the duck.” Collin set everything down and took the bird from Spencer. “Get yourself some clothes,” he said when Spencer peeled out of the wet robe.
Spencer ignored him and wrapped up in a blanket. He’d woken up early before Collin and Max had left and he remembered feeling warm and safe. Wanted. And when he’d woken again and all of that was gone, he’d been on the verge of tears. Angry at first, then sad, then angry again. Then worried as another storm front barreled in and they hadn’t returned.
If the blush on Max’s cheeks whenever he looked at Collin was any indication, they’d clearly done more than go on a nature hike. Maybe it should bother Spencer that they’d probably been intimate when they’d left Spencer in bed, but he kept thinking about how it would’ve bee
n.
And holy shit, the way Collin had looked at Spencer out in the barn. He’d devoured him first with his eyes, then his mouth. It wasn’t what Spencer had expected to happen, but it was easily one of the hottest moments of his life.
The bird made a terrible squawking sound, and Collin cooed at it, soothing it until it stilled again, then he wrapped the wing in gauze and set it in the box.
“That’ll have to do.” Collin turned to Spencer. “Are you still cold?”
Spencer bit his lip and let the corner of the blanket drop, revealing his shoulder. “You should warm me up.”
Max’s touch made Spencer’s skin sing as he traced the line of Spencer’s shoulder. “Our sweetheart is pretty cold, Collin.”
Spencer looked at Max. “Why sweetheart?”
“Why not?” Max cupped Spencer’s cheek. He grabbed a fistful of blanket and tugged Spencer closer. “Even if you’re prissy, you’re also sweet. I don’t mean anything bad by it.”
Spencer licked his lips. He knew Max was telling the truth. Maybe he wouldn’t have believed him yesterday, but they’d been through a lot, and even though Max still walked around with a giant chip on his shoulder, he’d softened toward Spencer. He’d looked out for him, comforted him, protected him.
He didn’t think he wanted anyone as much as he wanted both of these men. Men he had no business wanting. Spencer leaned in closer to Max. He wanted to throw himself at the mercy of both men, but Collin sat there watching, waiting. Too polite to take his turn when it was offered in the barn, when Spencer had been willing to drop to his knees despite the storm raging outside the doors.
Spencer brushed his lips past Max’s, barely touching, then turned and looked at Collin. “I really am cold.”
Collin’s laugh was thick with lust. “You’re a brat.”
“I thought I was a sweetheart?” Spencer mock-pouted, moving closer to Collin.
“Also a brat.” Max supplied, following Spencer.