A Fortunate Blizzard

by L. C. Chase

  Silence fell between them, but Trevor could feel the wheels turning in Marc’s mind at hyperspeed.

  “I have two perfectly good kidneys,” Marc said. He nodded, and determination lit in his eyes. “I want you to have one. We’ll go tomorrow and get things started.”

  Trevor clutched at his chest and fought back tears. He couldn’t take this. He turned a watery smile on Marc, whose eyes were shining bright with unshed tears, and caressed his cheek.

  “I love that you’re willing do that for me, more than I can ever say, but—”

  “Please, Trevor. Let me do this. Even if nothing comes of us, I need to know you’re out there. Happy and healthy and living a full life.” Marc put both hands on Trevor’s knees and squeezed tight. “Please, let me save you if I can.”

  Trevor couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears he’d been fighting broke through and cut a wet path down his cheeks. He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Sure it is.”

  Trevor huffed a moist breath. He could have fallen in love with this man. “An idealistic lawyer. Is that a thing?”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “No. No, it isn’t, but tell me, what’s your blood type?”

  “It’s—” Marc frowned. “I don’t actually know.”

  Trevor raised his eyebrows. “How can you not know?”

  Marc shrugged. “I guess I never had any reason to find out, but I’ll get tested. First thing tomorrow I’ll find a lab and get my finger poked.”

  “Here’s the thing, though.” Trevor placed his hands over Marc’s. “I’ve been on the transplant wait list for so long because I have a very rare blood type—O negative. Only a little over six percent of the population has it. And the real kicker? Even though my blood type makes me a universal donor, I can only receive blood and, by extension, transplants, from someone who’s also O negative. Most people are A or O positive, so chances are incredibly slim that you’ll be a match.”

  “But I could be O negative,” Marc said, the naked hope in his voice heartbreaking to hear. “Don’t discount it until we’ve made sure.”

  Trevor shook his head. “The chances that you and I would both have O negative . . . We’d both have a better chance of getting struck by lightning.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Marc said with enough conviction to take Trevor aback. “I won’t.”

  “I can’t let myself hope,” he said quietly, willing Marc to understand. “Even if we’re a blood match, that doesn’t mean we’ll be a tissue match. And say we don’t match? Then what? I’ll be lucky if I have a year left with where I’m at.” He looked down at their joined hands, shaking his head. “No. Hope has been snatched away from me too many times.”

  “And what if we do match?”

  “My body could still reject the organ, and I’ll be right back where I was. On dialysis but with even less time. Probably with a higher risk of complications, too.”

  Marc reached up and tucked his fingers under Trevor’s chin, gently asking him to meet his eyes. When they did, Trevor’s heart broke a little more.

  “If we don’t match, we don’t match,” Marc said, his voice low and broken but still commanding. “But that doesn’t need to stop us from being together. Wouldn’t a year of living to our fullest be worth more than never having had the chance?”

  “But that’s just it. Don’t you see, Marc? We don’t have the chance,” Trevor argued. “It’s more than just having to watch my diet every single day, more than having to sit through three hours of being plugged into a machine that cleans my blood every three or four days for the rest of my life. However much is left of it, that is. There’s the quality of life, too.”

  Trevor paused, ran a hand through his hair. He had to make Marc understand. He deserved someone who could give him everything, which started with someone who actually had a life ahead of them. “I’m exhausted more often than not—that’s why I needed to nap yesterday. My stomach is almost always unsettled. My sex drive is low—how you’ve managed to get me so aroused these past couple of days is nothing short of amazing, and has been the most active I’ve been in years, but it won’t last. Eventually you’ll end up discouraged and unfulfilled with a partner who can’t fully satisfy you in the bedroom or anywhere else, really.” Trevor held his hand up, forestalling the argument he saw brewing behind Marc’s open-book eyes.

  “Bouts of depression bring me so far down sometimes I can’t even leave my bed, let alone the house. I can’t travel anywhere without first planning ahead to arrange treatments at local dialysis centers. That kind of shoots any spontaneity out the window. Soon I’ll probably have to increase dialysis treatments, and then—” His throat snapped closed, and he had to look away before he could continue. “And then I’m just going to die anyway because my blood is too rare to find many transplant donors. The only things on my horizon are the complications that come with this disease, which will end up killing me before my kidney actually does.”

  But I’ll stop dialysis before that happens.

  “But every minute of every day would be worth it,” Marc said in a broken whisper, and then he rose to his knees and pulled Trevor into his arms.

  Trevor’s mind resisted, but his heart didn’t want to fight the hold. And right then his heart was stronger. He wanted to take this moment for what it was, a beautiful memory he’d been gifted with. He wrapped his arms around Marc, clinging to him for all he was worth, trying to press closer, crawl into the safety of his harbor.

  “In another life,” he mumbled into Marc’s shoulder, the shirt material beneath Trevor’s cheek growing damp from his stray tears.

  “I can’t let you go,” Marc said. “Not when I’ve just found you and there could be so much more for us.”

  “Please. No more talk.” Trevor pulled himself from Marc’s embrace and stood up. “This is the way it is—why there can’t be more. I have nothing to give you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You have everything to give me.” Marc rose to his feet and took Trevor’s hand in his before he could turn away.

  How could the man standing before him be dying? Right now? He couldn’t accept that. Sure, Trevor had been pretty wiped out yesterday, but Marc, too, was tired after the ordeal of the blizzard and the night of passion. But otherwise Trevor looked healthy as a horse. And to have been told such a bleak diagnosis but still be making sure Marc had a good Christmas, going out of his way . . . No. Marc would do everything and anything in his power to save the man he never knew he needed.

  Trevor made to tug his hand back, but Marc held tight. “Come with me. Please.”

  “Marc—”

  He cut him off with a gentle kiss. “Please.” He had to know, right now, reassure himself that Trevor was very much alive and healthy and, if he had any say in the matter whatsoever, would stay that way. “You said no more talk, so let me show you.”

  He led Trevor to the bedroom and stopped at the foot of the bed, turning around to face him. Trevor nodded and let his hands drop to his sides, but his eyes revealed a kaleidoscope of emotion—pain, sadness, longing—his mind a whir behind those blue depths. But lingering beneath it all, there was hunger. That was what Marc wanted right now, to still that mind, draw desire to the surface, and shift Trevor completely into sensation and raw emotion—life in its purest expression.

  He placed another sweet kiss on Trevor’s silky lips. An air of detachment hovered around Trevor as Marc slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, as though he was just beyond an unseen barrier.

  “Let me love you,” Marc whispered against Trevor’s mouth. “Right here, right now. Let me love you.”

  Trevor closed his eyes and groaned. “Marc—” His voice was hoarse, ragged.

  “Please.” Marc kissed him again, soft, reverent, hoping Trevor could understand the words he seemed unable to articulate.

  Mere seconds later, Trevor’s groan became a moan, and he leaned into the kiss, attempting to deepen it, but Marc pulled back, gentling
it until Trevor acquiesced. He had no intention of rushing this. Just like the first night at the hotel with Trevor, that urge to make sure he gave everything he had to this man built like a firestorm in his chest. It mattered more than ever now, as though this was his very last chance at experiencing something great. Something he would never find in his life again. No matter what Trevor said, if they only got a year together, it would be a year to last a lifetime.

  With each button Marc freed, Trevor pushed for more, but Marc controlled the pace, their mouths dancing in a sensual give and take. He freed the last button on Trevor’s shirt and slowly slid it off his toned shoulders. He ran his hands over the smooth planes of Trevor’s chest, his abdomen, up the sides of his torso, and back over his shoulders, cataloguing every inch of the man. All the while, he continued his languid kiss, opening his mouth and teasing out Trevor’s tongue, savoring his taste.

  His fingers brushed the raised skin of Trevor’s biceps. Trevor tensed but didn’t break their kiss. Marc did. “This?”

  “Direct access to my veins for dialysis.” Trevor seemed to hold his breath, his gaze searching Marc’s. For what, Marc didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He reclaimed Trevor’s mouth, fighting to hold back.

  He broke the kiss again and stepped away, shaking his head when Trevor tried to follow. With their gazes locked and the air between them sparking like an electrical storm, he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. He moved back to Trevor, wrapping one arm around his back and the other behind his head. Pressing skin to skin, he claimed Trevor’s mouth again, but this time when he deepened the kiss, Trevor answered with a checked fire that Marc fought to keep at bay just a little longer. He wanted this moment, this night, this lovemaking, to last as long as possible. He wanted to draw out every breath and gasp and sensation. Revel in it, roll in it, until it permeated his every pore and became a part of him.

  Once again he put the brakes on the kiss, this time having to place a hand on the middle of Trevor’s chest to keep him from following. His breath came in short and shallow bursts, keeping time with Marc’s. Confident that Trevor would stay put, Marc closed the distance just enough to work Trevor’s pants open while holding his gaze, silently telling him that he wasn’t going anywhere and that he wasn’t letting Trevor go anywhere, either. They would get more than a year because Marc wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t know if he’d be a transplant match, but maybe if he willed it hard enough, begged the universe enough, he would be.

  “Stay,” Marc said, both meanings intended.

  Trevor shook his head. “I can’t.”

  Trevor’s pants fell to the floor, and Marc ran a hand down his bare torso and below his navel. He smiled at the harsh intake of breath when he loosely gripped Trevor’s filling cock and slid down its growing length. Trevor’s eyelashes fluttered, his lips parted, but he held still, letting Marc command him at will.

  With his other hand, Marc snapped open the buttons of his own fly and shimmied out of his jeans and underwear. Stepping from the pile of denim and cotton, he pulled Trevor to him, aligning their bodies and marveling at the sweet rush of the contact. This time, when he kissed Trevor, he didn’t hold anything back. He couldn’t. The restraint he’d been trying to maintain was quickly running out. Trevor answered with fervor, hands cupping Marc’s face and angling his head to deepen the kiss even more.

  Marc walked backward, keeping Trevor glued to him, until they reached the bed. Only then, Marc ended their kiss once more. “Stay,” he rasped again.

  “Can’t.” Trevor crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder at Marc, who stood at the edge watching him with lust and desire and a deeper emotion he didn’t yet know how to name. Instead, he absorbed the sight before him: this gorgeous, generous man who’d come into his life, either by design or coincidence, and tipped it on its side. He never had time for anything but work, but now he begged whoever would listen for all the time in the world to spend with Trevor.

  Trevor stretched an arm behind him, hand reaching out, beckoning. Marc climbed onto the bed behind Trevor, and sliding their fingers together, brought Trevor’s hand to his mouth. He kissed Trevor’s knuckles, turned his hand over and kissed his palm, and then slid Trevor’s index finger into his mouth.

  Blue fire flared in Trevor’s eyes, and he whispered, “Make love to me.”

  Warmth spread throughout his chest at the words, and he nodded, because words seemed to have left him. Trevor smiled and laid his head to the pillow, one arm—the one with his dialysis access—stretched out in front of him as though he was deliberately keeping it out of the way, and the other tucked under his body. Marc draped his body on top of Trevor, hands gliding over firm shoulders and arms. He pressed a kiss to the back of Trevor’s neck, his shoulder blades, then inch by inch down his spine. Lower and lower, tasting, licking, loving . . .

  Trevor jumped and moaned when Marc slid his tongue over Trevor’s hole, swirled around and in and out, teasing and coaxing him open. Marc’s body trembled, his skin flushed with heat, his nerves snapped, and just maybe he and Trevor were creating their own lightning. Trevor moaned again and rocked back against Marc’s tongue.

  Loving the way this man made his body sing with joy and made him want to scream in ecstasy, he couldn’t fathom how anything could be so terminally wrong with him. Marc couldn’t wrap his mind around it, make sense of it; therefore, it couldn’t be real. In a day or two, Trevor would get his flight home to celebrate the delayed holiday with his family, and then he’d come back, and they would pick up where they left off.

  And in reality, you’ll probably never see him again.

  Marc crushed the voice that spoke what he knew was probably the truth—as much as he refused to believe it—and filled his hands with two well-muscled ass cheeks, kneading, pulling, and pressing, working Trevor’s body with his fingers and his tongue, until Trevor’s muffled whimpers and gasps told Marc he was on the verge of begging.

  “Ready.” Trevor grunted. “Marc. Ready.”

  Spitting on his thumb, Marc used it to caress Trevor’s hole, sliding in and out, not wanting to take his hands off Trevor for even the second it took to lean over to the bedside drawer with his other hand. But he did, and one-handed, he ripped open a foil packet from inside, sheathed himself in latex, and then was slicking his aching cock and Trevor’s beautiful hole with cool lube. He lined them up and stopped.

  “Stay.”

  “God, Marc,” Trevor whined, rocking back. “Please.”

  “Yes.” Marc gripped Trevor’s hips, holding him steady while he pushed inside, stretching him wider, slowly filling him, inching deeper and deeper until his whole body shook, inside and out, and Trevor’s body clenched and relaxed around his cock.

  “Jesus, Trev,” Marc growled. “You feel so fucking good.”

  But if Trevor responded, the words didn’t register, all of his focus on the place where their bodies connected, where they had physically become one. Trevor whimpered when Marc pulled back, sliding almost all the way out, and then practically purred when he pushed all the way inside.

  “Yes. More. Deeper, harder, faster.” Trevor panted, gasped, and chanted it over and over, and Marc would never do anything to disappoint this incredible man writhing and rocking under him.

  He gave what Trevor needed—in and out, hard and fast—and the world disappeared as Marc became the eye of the storm. Trevor was the swirling mass of energy and electricity and fire surrounding him, spinning faster and faster, growing too big to be contained in the kinetic clouds. Release came in a booming, blinding burst of lightning. Once, twice, and again. His ears popped, eyes squeezed shut, sweat slicked his skin, and Trevor clamped down on him hard. Together, they collapsed to the mattress, and Marc covered Trevor’s body with his own, as though he could be the shield, protecting Trevor from the world, from the reaper who wanted to steal him away too soon.

  The storm passed as they floated back d
own to Earth, and in its wake, it left both of their bodies boneless and quaking in the aftermath. Marc rolled off of Trevor, pulling him into his arms and wrapping his body around him. Trevor burrowed into the embrace, getting even deeper under Marc’s skin, and Marc knew this perfect moment of sated bliss was one he’d never have with anyone else.

  Marc pressed his lips to Trevor’s forehead. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

  But Trevor had already drifted off and didn’t hear him. Or he heard him and chose not to answer. Before Marc could ask again, postorgasmic slumber had its claws in him too, and he followed Trevor into a dream where there was nothing wrong with his kidneys.

  Eyes still closed, Marc reached across the bed knowing he’d find an empty space where Trevor’s body should have been. That he’d proven himself right didn’t do anything to lessen the debilitating disappointment that gripped him in an ice-cold fist. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the vaulted wood ceiling, watching the morning sunrays inch across the room. There was no warmth in the golden light, though, nothing that could fill the heavy emptiness that hung in the air. Had it always been like this? Was he only feeling it now because a brilliant breath of life had blown through the still corners?

  He listened for any hint of sound that would tell him Trevor was still there. That right now he was in the kitchen with breakfast prepped, waiting for Marc to wake up. But he knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking. The house was as deserted as his heart felt. He sat up and looked over at a chair by the window, where Trevor’s bag had been, but was now only an empty space.

  Trevor had left him. Without saying good-bye.

  When he could no longer stand lying in bed, he moved through the motions of his morning rituals—bladder relief, shower and shave, dressing. He’d halfway put on his suit before he remembered it was only the day after Christmas—a Saturday—and the office was closed until Monday. Though it wasn’t uncommon for him to head to the office on weekends or even holidays, right now he just didn’t have it in him.