by AJ Rose
Elliot glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly three in the morning. She’s not going to be mad at how late we are?”
“She knows I’m coming. Plus I have a key, so we can be quiet and get some sleep before we bugout again.” It bothered him, Elliot hinting at going back to the city, but his sister’s old minivan sat under the carport, so if Elliot left, Ash still had legal wheels. Even if hers is a piece of shit compared to this beauty. He let his fingers linger on the leather-covered steering wheel. He’s weird for never driving it. I’d be driving it everywhere if it were mine.
Elliot seemed to be waiting for his lead, so he got out and stretched, looking up and down the street for signs of movement. Other than the rhythmic shuffle of the few spring leaves in a light breeze, there was nothing. He dug in the trunk for their meager supplies, feeling itchy about how poorly provisioned they were despite having decided getting out of the city was a better plan. Well, Charlotte would have some stuff, and they could hit up one of the lakes’ many sporting goods stores and the grocery before the shit hit the fan. There would be better equipment up here anyway.
The door creaked lightly when he unlocked and opened it, the tiny living room to the left a mix of shadow and light from the lone candle. They shuffled in and stood briefly to let their eyes adjust.
Quietly removing his shoes, Ash looked around, memories rushing at him from the years he’d lived here. He supposed he was in a reflective mood as they stood on the cusp of possibly leaving this house for good. The wall over the couch bore the enormous portrait of their family taken just before their father had left for Afghanistan the second and final time, and while the furniture was different, it was laid out the same as it had always been. Only their dad’s recliner had remained untouched, the perch from which he’d read to them at bedtime or pulled them into his lap to explain the ways of the world, outdated in style but not worn. No one sat in it now.
All that was missing was the chug-chug of the ancient fridge, making and dropping its load of ice and waking the dead.
“Everything okay?” Elliot whispered, pulling Ash back to the present. He realized how long he’d been standing there and shook himself mentally. Now was not the time to get maudlin.
“Yeah.” He moved into the hallway to the right of the front entry, toward the bedrooms. Charlotte’s door was cracked only a sliver, but Riley’s was wide open. He peeked in and saw a neatly made twin bed with a solar system pattern on the comforter in the dim moonlight through the window. Figuring Riley had gotten scared and bunked with his mom, Ash stepped into the room and set their bags on the floor. Elliot shuffled in behind him, looking about ready to drop on his feet.
“You take this room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Elliot looked…disappointed. “But won’t your nephew freak if there’s a stranger in his bed?”
“Nah,” Ash said, scrubbing his face, stubble rasping on his palms. “It’ll be fine. Go on.”
Elliot hooked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the living room. “But there’s a recliner. I could sleep there.
Ash went rigid. “No one sits in the recliner.”
“Is that like no one puts Baby in a corner?”
“Fine. Sleep on the fucking floor or in your car. I don’t care.” Ash turned on his heel and moved to the hall closet. He pulled down a small lockbox and went to the living room, snagging his grandmother’s afghan from the back of the couch and tossing one of the throw pillows flat on the cushion. He stowed the gun, a Colt .45, in the box, the key for which hung on a chain around his neck, along with a dog tag. The locked box went inside the drawer of the small table between the oversize chair and the beloved recliner. After peeling off all but his briefs, he threw himself on the sofa, turning to face the wall and drawing the afghan around his shoulders, fighting its short length to cover his feet, too.
What was that about cutting Elliot slack? his traitorous brain asked. Jesus, even his inner voice was a sarcastic shit. He scowled at the couch cushions. Elliot was only trying not to scare Riley. Or Charlotte, if she decided to move her son from her bed to his own. Ash should be making sure his guest was comfortable, not biting his head off. Perhaps the outage had him more unsettled than he cared to admit, and fatigue from a pitch black five-hour drive wasn’t helping. He’d just decided an apology was in order when Elliot shuffled into the living room, his socked feet whispering against the bare hardwood.
“Do you at least have a blanket I can use?” Elliot’s whisper was frosty as he threw Riley’s pillow on the floor as far from Ash as he could get.
Ash sighed and sat up, elbows on his knees, hands hanging toward the floor. “I’m sorry, okay? You can have the couch, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No, no.” Elliot waved dismissively. “You don’t care where I sleep, so I’ll make do until the morning, when I can get out of your hair. But I’m not going to freeze my ass off all night. Blanket?”
Ash was silent as Elliot shucked his jeans and sat on the floor in his boxers and t-shirt. Going to the hall closet, Ash pulled a sleeping bag and two blankets from the top shelf. When he returned to the living room, he unzipped the sleeping bag to turn it inside out so the soft side faced up, and spread it beside Elliot, closer to the couch. Then he laid out one blanket, yanked the throw pillow down, and settled onto the pallet. He left the other blanket for Elliot.
“Take the couch.” Cocooning beneath the covers, he tried to drift off as Elliot finally bedded down on the sofa, but his mind wouldn’t wind down. Instead, he thought of the last time he’d seen his father, lacing up his steel-toed combat boots in preparation for deployment. Was the ghost of the man hovering? Did he check on them? Ash had spent many of his teen years looking around corners, hoping to see the man walk in the door, well aware it was impossible. Even when Uncle Marvin had darkened their doorstep, the irrational ten-year-old boy inside him hoped those chiseled features would belong to his dad, not his dad’s best friend. He’d grown up feeling if he ever sat in Dad’s chair, that would seal the deal, and the man really wasn’t coming back. How stupid was that?
“It belonged to my father,” he spoke into the silence of the room. “We haven’t sat in it since he died. It’s his chair.”
Elliot could have been asleep and missed the confession, but it was impossible for Ash not to explain, despite rarely explaining himself to anyone.
“My mom died five years after my dad. Cancer. It’s been me and Charlotte and Riley ever since. I’ve spent so much time looking after them, I didn’t have time to make friends or need anyone else.” He kept his volume low, in case Elliot was sleeping, but once the gates opened, he couldn’t close them again. “I apologize if my protectiveness of my family makes me gruff, but they’re all I have.”
There was nothing from above him on the couch, so he rolled away, facing the front window and the little candle still burning in its dish on the wide windowsill. He’d just about convinced himself Elliot hadn’t heard when a whisper drifted over.
“You don’t have to explain. I just didn’t want to scare your nephew.”
Ash grunted. “I wanted you to know I’m not a total dick.”
A few moments passed, then, “Ash?”
“Hm?”
“You didn’t have to give me the couch. I would have been okay on the floor.”
“Well, if you don’t want it,” Ash sat up, grinning in the dimness to show Elliot he was teasing.
“Too late,” Elliot said quickly. “Mine now.” He fell silent as Ash lay back down, then asked, “Do we have any bottled water from the car? I could use a drink.”
Ash started to say no, they needed to conserve, but thought better of it. They could get more when he went to the store, though that mindset would only be okay for a couple more days.
“Check the fridge. Might still be cold. But don’t use tap water for drinking. Who knows when the treatment plants will stop working?”
Elliot gave him a strange look, shuffling into the kitchen before he dis
appeared into Riley’s room, then the bathroom, before returning to the couch. He brought the water, offering it to Ash.
“I only had a couple sips.”
Ash smiled and hiked himself up on one elbow to take the water, nodding his approval. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Elliot surprised him by lying on the sleeping bag beside him, his head pillowed on his bicep, his brown eyes nearly black in the dark. Ash could only blink at him as he fought the immediate urge to pull the boy close. They didn’t seek comfort from one another. That wasn’t their agreement, but when Elliot scooted over and put a tentative hand on his side just above his waist, Ash shifted in silent invitation for him to do just that. Elliot immediately buried his face in Ash’s shoulder, burrowing beneath his chin like a puppy seeking warmth. His breath smelled minty, and when Elliot bumped a knee against his thigh, Ash wrapped his arm around him and yanked him so their bodies were flush. He hooked his leg over Elliot’s bony hip and tangled them further together.
“You sure?” he whispered.
“No,” Elliot said simply.
Trying to soothe him, Ash rubbed circles on Elliot’s lower back through his t-shirt. “What can I do?”
Elliot answered by licking his neck, then whispering, “Make the dark not matter. Just for a few minutes?”
Ash stopped to consider the wisdom of getting physical on the living room floor with his sister and nephew a couple doors away. If Charlotte and Riley had slept through their arrival, they’d sleep through this. He threw his blanket off and rolled to cover Elliot’s slender body, dropping his face into the crook of Elliot’s neck. Elliot immediately spread his knees so Ash could fit into the V of his groin, and his hands landed on Ash’s ass, squeezing and pulling him in tighter, Elliot’s hardness very much in evidence.
Ash gasped. Elliot wasn’t usually that aggressive, though Ash couldn’t deny the zing it sent through his bloodstream, rapidly plumping his dick. Their underwear was all that separated their erections, and he didn’t move to change that. Rutting slowly, he pulled up to his elbows, planted on either side of Elliot’s head.
“Better?”
Elliot nodded and closed his eyes. The play of the candlelight on his smooth skin made Ash want to kiss him. His hips stuttered at the realization. They didn’t usually kiss, the heated one after class earlier that night notwithstanding. Most of the time, it was a few tugs, or a few sucks, and once or twice, a fuck, but no real intimacy. The goal was pleasure, in the quickest and dirtiest sense.
That’s not what he wants now, Ash thought. After a brief hesitation, he closed his parted lips over Elliot’s, testing his partner’s reaction to see if the change was welcomed. Elliot’s eyes flew open and he froze, but when Ash moved to pull away, Elliot palmed the back of his head and held him there, opening his mouth to invite him in. His grinding changed tenor, too. Not faster, but bigger, more aggressive, more insistent.
Ash didn’t end the kiss until he needed air, and even then, he turned his face an inch to the side, keeping them cheek to cheek. Elliot’s harsh breathing tickled the hair hanging along his jawline, and he shivered, more turned on than he’d been in a long time, and they weren’t even skin to skin yet.
“Ash,” Elliot whispered shakily. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”
Gritting his teeth, Ash grunted a negative. “No lube or condoms.” He was always happy with blowjobs or handjobs or a good old fashioned frot session, but this time, he cursed the lack of supplies, and for the flicker of a moment, almost wondered what it would be like for Elliot to fuck him, a desire he hadn’t had since the first time he’d tried it with a one-night stand who hadn’t been gentle.
“In my bag,” Elliot said into his ear, sucking Ash’s lobe between his lips to punctuate the point.
Their hips had taken on a pace of their own, however, and Ash wasn’t so sure he wanted to stop. He could easily keep going like this, it was so unexpected, so hot.
“You brought lube and condoms?” he asked, staring with amusement and surprise at his…. The only word that fit at the moment was lover. “We’re in a dangerous situation, and you brought lube and condoms.” His voice took on a wondering air despite his growing breathlessness.
Elliot, thankfully, didn’t take offense. “Please.” He smiled with a mock eye roll and poked Ash in the ribs, then gripped Ash’s ass to slow his movements. “Would I even be attracted to you if I didn’t like a little danger now and then?” To illustrate his point, he nosed aside the chain around Ash’s neck and licked up his chest, outlining with his tongue the tattoo on his pec. It was an atom, one of the ellipses forming an infinity symbol, set in a compass rose, and at the cardinal directions were inked pictorial symbols for earth, air, water, and fire.
Ash actually growled and shot to his feet, darting into Riley’s room with as much stealth as he could and returning with Elliot’s duffel bag. Elliot rolled toward it and dug the supplies from the side pocket, lying back down, stopping only to shuck his boxers and t-shirt. For once, his eagerness stoked Ash’s fire, and he followed suit with his underwear.
“You have to be completely quiet. I mean it. Charlotte will have my head if she knows we did this.”
Elliot only nodded and yanked Ash’s hand to pull him down for another heated kiss. Ash lay flat out, their bodies pressed together from knees to chest, the rutting automatic. Despite the heat between them, Ash didn’t escalate like usual, instead letting the fire build, each thrust a waft of oxygen to the coals, each kiss more fuel to be burned. Both of them stayed far quieter than was normal, letting their breathing drag out in long, slow bellows.
“Ash.” Elliot’s word was so soft it barely had any air behind it, just the hint of sound floating between them, like a fragile bubble where even the slightest of breezes would have burst it. Ash understood, though, and knelt up, hastily donning the condom and cracking open the lube, the flip-top cap sounding like a ricochet in the silence. Elliot hiked his knees toward his chest, his long shaft against his belly and his balls jumping in their wrinkled sack when Ash smeared lube on his hole, then dipped a finger inside to thoroughly coat him. Ash had no idea if Elliot was hooking up with anyone else; their arrangement included nothing about exclusivity. Still, if he was only sleeping with Ash, it had been more than a month since they’d done this, so as ready as Ash was to bury himself balls deep and go, he wasn’t that kind of lover. Had vowed never to be.
Elliot jammed his hand between his teeth and bit down, making Ash immediately withdraw for fear of having hurt him. But when he did so, Elliot raised his head from the pillow, neck corded with the strain of desire, and frantically shook his head.
“Go!” he mouthed, his head thunking back down. His lips disappeared in a taut line and his eyes squeezed shut as Ash pushed his forefinger in to the last knuckle and pumped in and out, less seductive than utilitarian. On another night, one when they had time, Ash wouldn’t mind seeing how much he could tease Elliot by fingering him, milking his prostate and watching the boy come undone. This, however, was not that night.
When Ash shot up to cover Elliot, their chests sliding with sweat and Elliot’s cock dragging pre-come across Ash’s abdomen, Elliot loosed a sigh and a whisper.
“Oh thank god, yes.”
The last word hissed out as Ash breached him, and they began to move in time with each other, taking it slow when Elliot’s grimace was clearly pained. Ash kept his thrusts more a rocking motion than ins and outs to avoid the slap of skin, and Elliot hooked his legs around Ash’s waist, arms locked around his neck as he held on.
The fire that had banked while they’d dealt with the logistics of sex roared to life again, and Ash found himself staring into Elliot’s eyes as they stayed nose to nose, joined in an intimacy Ash had never intended. Instead of being freaked out, Ash was soothed by it. If forced to tell the truth, he was scared by what had transpired in the city and all the blackness on their drive up. The connection with someone reassured him he wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t thinking about it in wor
ds like adaptation and survival. It was a feeling, one that had started out lost and unanchored, and holy shit, but in this moment was eclipsed by humanity and need and instinct. If Elliot felt better seeking comfort from him in a time like this, Ash wouldn’t judge himself for wanting it, too. No, not wanting. Needing.
“Close,” Elliot murmured, their lips brushing incidental to their writhing in each other’s arms.
Ash sped up his rocking, ignoring the protest of his knees on the hardwood through the inadequate sleeping bag. The slide of Elliot’s dick against his sweaty stomach made Ash want to stroke him, but when he backed off enough to get a hand between them, Elliot clamped his arms and legs tighter and shook his head, eyes widening with a plea to stay right where he was. If that friction was enough for Elliot, Ash was happy to concentrate on the rest of the sensations between them.
Changing his hip rocking to a more circular motion, they both gasped, which Ash turned into a sloppy, tongue-warring kiss. Elliot groaned into his mouth, and Ash held his head still while he swallowed the sound, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone. The grip and catch of skin between them went slick as Elliot’s orgasm pumped over both their torsos, and Ash had to fight voicing his own moan. He couldn’t maintain the kiss anymore, opening his mouth in a wide O as his balls furled up and heaved their pleasure through every nerve in his body and out through his cock, turning him inside out. His hearing shorted into a muffled whine and all he could do was hold on and let the ticks and flinches of aftershock roll over him while he tried to control his breathing.
Elliot scrabbled at his back, digging his fingers into the taut muscles to keep Ash over him, on him, inside him as long as possible. Eventually, though, Elliot needed to breathe, and Ash’s aching knees and elbows demanded relief. He rolled to the side, keeping in contact with Elliot’s sweaty skin. His partner looked different without his glasses. Softer somehow, though that could be more his sweaty, mussed hair and the sated look on his face in the dim glow of the candle.