Pyro had come out of the accident unscathed, except for the huge bruise on his forehead, but it hadn’t taught him anything either. Tank had decided to wash his hands off Pyro after that, but the poor guy was grieving, and Clover couldn’t desert him. Not just for the sake of his own feelings, but also because of Boar, who they still hoped to find.
“There you are, sexy,” Pyro said, dragging him up to the platform.
The last thing Clover needed was to be in the spotlight. “Hey, Pyro. You did great. Now let’s go home, okay?” He clenched Pyro’s wrist, desperate for the man not to slip out of his grasp, because his pupils were so wide they covered all the green in his irises. Mixing liquor and cocaine again. He was in no state to drive himself home.
Clover scrambled over the railing and put his arm around Pyro’s waist. He was wary of touching the loser’s blood, but Pyro pulled him closer so fast there was no escaping it. Clover would wash his hoodie the moment they got back home.
“But the night’s still so young,” Pyro patted Clover’s ass.
“It is, and we can go and celebrate together, but let’s get you out of here first.” He gave Pyro a quick kiss, desperate to leave this dangerous place swarming with people he didn’t trust.
Someone captured Pyro’s attention for the briefest moment, but Clover was relieved when Pyro ignored everyone else and led the way along the raised platform the contestants used to enter the cage.
“How are you? All your teeth okay?” Clover asked, relieved to be at least somewhat away from the eyes of strangers.
Backstage was no less dirty, but couldn’t be accessed by just anyone. Clover would never give up on him. No matter what Pyro threw himself into, he still wanted Boar back as much as all of them, and once that happened, once they found Boar, everything would fall back into place.
The air smelled of piss, and Clover didn’t want to know why, considering they were in a building that had working toilets. Still, none of that mattered when Pyro had come back to him victorious. Pyro’s behavior had become increasingly erratic in the four months since they’d lost Boar, and each time he left, Clover couldn’t help but fear for him. Tonight, at least, he could ensure Pyro found his way into bed.
Pyro opened his mouth and showed his teeth to prove that he was fine, but then his gaze locked on Clover in a way that bordered on uncomfortable.
“Do I have something on my face?” Clover asked, but Pyro was already pulling him down an empty corridor.
“What is it? Did you collect the money?” In his state, Pyro was capable of forgetting that too, and after the disaster of Tank’s house burning down, their finances were in dire need of repair.
“Money?” Pyro asked, spinning Clover around and pushing him into an open room used to store crates of beer.
Clover’s back hit the wall too hard, but he had no space left for thinking when Pyro pushed his head back and covered Clover’s Adam’s apple with his hot mouth.
Oh.
He swallowed, stiffening in surprise. Not because he didn’t want Pyro to touch him, but because sex had been the last thing on his mind when he’d feared for Pyro’s safety in the ring.
“The money you won?” Clover closed his eyes and trailed his fingers up the strong forearms. Even when Pyro snubbed him, snapped at him, or avoided him, sex was always where they reconnected. Sex was where Pyro calmed down and where he focused on something other than his pain.
Sex was where Pyro forgot that Clover was guilty of Boar’s disappearance.
“Later,” Pyro whispered, trailing fast, wet kisses all over Clover’s neck. He was shaking already, drunk not only on the drugs and liquor but also the adrenaline of skirting the line between life and death. Semi-public sex would surely add to that explosive concoction.
No matter how guilty it made him feel sometimes, Clover also craved to forget about the world he’d need to come back to. The one in which Drake disappeared for weeks, where they lived in trailers, and where Boar was nowhere to be found. He was only human, and when Pyro came at him with all the sex appeal of a wild beast, smelling of masculinity, and even of blood, Clover gave in without a doubt.
He ran his hands up Pyro’s tattooed arms, all the way to his shoulders, not bothered by sweat, and focused solely on their mutual desire.
Damp, stubbly skin moved against his, sending shivers of excitement and relief all the way to his toes. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this here, but Pyro needed him, and he needed Pyro just as much.
He gave a broken yelp when Pyro spun him around and rocked his hips against Clover’s backside, palms on either side of Clover’s head, breath tickling Clover’s nape. “You’re so sexy,” Pyro whispered.
Clover’s breath became shallow, and he didn’t wait any longer, his fingers shaky when he unzipped his jeans. “And all yours. Always. You know that, right?”
Pyro hummed in response, his hands gravitating to the front of Clover’s chest. “I won today. Of course you’re mine,” Pyro said with a slight slur before claiming Clover’s mouth again. This time, he was more aggressive, and stroked his tongue along Clover’s palate, as if he wanted to claim him.
Clover reached back to stroke Pyro’s hip, welcoming one of Pyro’s hands pushing under his hoodie. When they had sex like this—fast, hard, and on the wild side, he felt like himself again, not like the broken boy with dyed hair and afraid of his own shadow.
That was why he needed Pyro more than ever.
“Yes, you won. Take the spoils,” Clover whispered with his forehead pressed to the cold wall. Warmth streamed all over from where Pyro touched him, but once he was done talking, his lover closed his teeth on Clover’s nape and bit down. It wasn’t enough to pierce skin, but the shock of it still made Clover rise to his toes.
“You want the winner’s dick in you?” Pyro asked, grabbing the front of Clover’s pants too hard, but then he yanked them down just enough to reveal Clover’s ass.
The touch of Pyro’s thick cock against naked skin came as a shock. Clover hadn’t even noticed when Pyro had pulled down his sweatpants.
“Yes,” Clover uttered as Pyro’s dick rubbed against him, sliding into the crevice of his ass. “You won, and you get to have anything you want.” And Clover did honestly cheer Pyro on in terms of winning, because Pyro winning, meant he lived. Some of his opponents didn’t get that pleasure.
His head spun when he heard Pyro spit, but he wasn’t afraid. He needed this to be as intense as possible. Thighs spread, facing the wall, he braced himself, though by the time the thick dick breached him, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the storm coming his way.
He grunted, closing his eyes at the sting, but at least Pyro was there with him, desperate for release. Pyro had one of his arms squeezing Clover’s chest, the other wrapped around his neck, and held him tightly.
“Such a pliant hole for me, Clo,” Pyro grunted into Clover’s ear, rocking his hips against Clover’s ass.
His thrusts were frantic, but as they both eased into it, Clover relaxed into the embrace, letting lust carry him, despite his head knocking against the wall a few times. Pyro’s balls slapped against Clover’s buttocks over and over, raising the heat further as they moved together, joined by love and regret combined.
Clover had no idea what this was, because it wasn’t a hate-fuck but wasn’t a love-fuck either. Pain mixed with pleasure to the point of blurring the world around them, and he was free to forget about anything other than the rock hard cock inside him, the inked body pressing him to the wall, and Pyro’s lusty kisses on his neck.
“Yes, do me like that,” he rasped, high on the adrenaline, and his voice turned into an elongated whimper when Pyro fucked him even faster, a ball of energy that couldn’t be stopped or contained. It could only be tamed.
Pyro gasped and squashed Clover against the wall with more force, his hips twitching rhythmically as he came, pouring his cum inside Clover.
“That’s great, Clo. That’s what I need,” Pyro whispered.
Clover c
ould have cried at those words, a shivering mess in Pyro’s strong hold. He wanted to be the answer to all of Pyro’s troubles, wanted to be what he needed.
He reached for his own cock, jerking off hard and fast, with Pyro’s dick still inside him. Pyro was most tender during those cooldowns, his kisses lazier, and Clover’s orgasm washed over him like a memory of a much simpler time when he really didn’t have to worry about anything outside of cramps after too much shibari.
His hole emptied all too soon, but Pyro’s warmth remained, with arms and chest like a cradle promising safety.
Pyro hummed. “You know, I liked you more with white hair. Shame you dyed it.”
Clover’s shoulders fell. “Seriously?” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Couldn’t reality wait five more minutes before crashing into him? He’d dyed his hair because he couldn’t bear knowing that somewhere out there was an order to find him, and his most defining feature was his albinism.
He didn’t like his new hair either.
“Come on, don’t be touchy. We’re just having fun,” Pyro stumbled back. When Clover turned around, he saw him sitting on one of the crates, dick still out.
Clover had to take a deep breath, but walked up to Pyro and cleaned him with a wet wipe, only then realizing how useless it was when what Pyro needed was a shower. Sweaty, bloodied, it was hard to say where bruises began and where ink ended.
“I’m not touchy, it’s just… you know I had to dye it. Pick up your money and I’ll drive you home.” After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in to kiss Pyro’s lips. He wasn’t ready to let go of the closeness, or of Pyro’s big hands, even though they were stained with blood.
Pyro sighed, rubbing his face, as if the sex had pumped out his energy. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but ended up dragging himself to his feet with his mouth shut. Maybe it was for the better.
It took another twenty minutes for Clover to walk Pyro to the money collection, then to the pickup truck, where Pyro fell asleep before Clover had even managed to buckle his seatbelt. He was snoring by the time Clover took the wheel and drove off from the old toy factory where the illegal fights were being held.
Driving was a difficult task, at night, as Clover’s vision didn’t have perfect sharpness even with glasses, but he did what he had to in hopes that they wouldn’t be stopped by the police. Because he wasn’t legally allowed behind the wheel.
In his drunken, drugged state, Pyro was an even worse candidate to drive. When Clover watched him sleeping so soundly, the serenity of that moment made his heart ache. Sleep and sex were the only times Pyro seemed at peace nowadays, and Clover suspected fighting also allowed his mind not to drift off to Boar.
No matter how hard they searched and how much hope they had, the truth was that they might never find him, or that he was already dead. It was a reality none of them wanted to face. The search was all that stood between Clover and self-loathing so intense it charred his skin, because he’d been the one to pull Boar into going with him on that disastrous night. He’d used Boar’s love for him as a way to force him into a situation he hadn’t agreed with. Pyro did not know that part, but when his already-sparse filter failed, his words didn’t leave place for doubt whether he blamed Clover for this mess.
He blamed everyone, including Clover.
At least he was still willing to interact with Clover, something that couldn’t be said about Pyro’s relationship with Drake.
It was as if Boar had been both their glue and the frame that had kept everything sane, and without him, nobody could pick up the pieces.
Clover was glad to leave the main road and head for the small property they’d rented for the week. The grassy plain offered Clover some peace with its silence, but a naked hill provided enough shadow to prevent them from getting baked alive in the trailers. It wasn’t a bad spot, and Clover hoped he could convince Tank to stay a little longer after Drake’s return from a reconnaissance in Denver.
It was 2 a.m. when his headlights licked their little compound, and he was relieved to switch off the engine and take a breather. Every time he came back here after a few hours away, a spark of hope lit up inside him that he would see Drake’s van, but today, just like every day over the last two weeks, it was nowhere to be seen.
Pyro still snored in the other seat, his face remained streaked with red, but cleanup would have to wait until tomorrow. Clover was too tired.
He walked around the truck and opened it on Pyro’s side before gently shaking his arm. “We’re home.”
Pyro jerked out of his sleep, and for a moment stared at Clover with pupils wide as saucers. “Home?”
Home was where they made it. Home was where they all lived together. Without Boar, it was broken, but still the best thing Clover ever had. The one home he’d known to be his safety net.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He gave Pyro a quick kiss.
“That’s not home. I burned it down,” Pyro grumbled but didn’t resist, and slid one leg out, balancing on it as he moved out of the vehicle at the speed of a grandpa with bad rheumatism. The adrenaline from the fight must have worn off.
“Yes you did. And because of that, we couldn’t make an insurance claim. Because we don’t want you in prison. So this is home until—” Clover stopped himself from speaking because ‘until we find Boar’ wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with an intoxicated Pyro.
For a few tense seconds, Clover feared accusations coming his way, but Pyro slumped against the truck and only moved once Clover slung his heavy arm over his shoulders. Pyro’s trailer was just a couple of footsteps away, but his weight still made Clover’s back ache by the time he switched on the light inside, illuminating a mess of food and alcohol packaging scattered on every available surface. The stale smell made him scowl, and he made a mental note to tidy the place up tomorrow. There was an empty bag of chips on the unmade bed, but Clover ignored it and deposited Pyro onto the mattress with a sigh of relief.
Pyro had enough strength to shift closer to the wall, leaving space on the right side, where Boar would have slept, and seeing him do it even in his fatigued state broke Clover’s heart. He watched Pyro roll his face into the pillow and go still, with his knees slightly bent. Clover only pulled the blanket over him once Pyro’s breathing evened out.
He sat by the table in the tiny eating area, wanting to be there if Pyro woke up and needed help, but after half an hour, he was confident that all would be fine. He left Pyro a plastic bowl, in case he needed to throw up, and some water and painkillers for the morning.
The air outside was cool, so he wondered for a while if he shouldn’t go and get Pyro an extra blanket, but in the end decided Pyro wouldn’t want the additional heat in his state anyway. He searched the stars for answers to their biggest worry, but when none came, and tiredness got the best of Clover, he dragged himself to the big trailer he shared with Tank.
This one smelled of citrusy air freshener. Tank and him kept it spotless. It wasn’t home-home in the same way Tank’s Oregon house had been, but he felt safe inside its thin walls. There was a stability to the trailer that motels couldn’t offer.
Tank’s form was sprawled on the right side of the bed, and Clover decided not to turn on any light as he undressed. Tank had far too much on his mind to be awoken in the middle of his much-needed rest. The T-shirt Clover used for sleeping lay ready on the sofa, and he quickly put it on before making his way to bed. The thin mattress felt familiar in the way it dipped under his weight, and as soon as he slid under the blanket, Tank put his arm over him, hugging Clover tight without a word.
Only then Clover could fall asleep.
Chapter 2 - Tank
Tank was never much of a lie-in kind of guy, but lately even getting up to exercise early had lost its merit. They’d ran out of leads on Boar, and no matter how much he tried to stay busy, there was no denying that he had nothing planned for the day.
Maybe it was time to move. Texas had yielded no hope and di
sappointed Tank with a thread that led nowhere. Some guy had claimed he’d seen a big bearded redhead juggling in the street alongside his dancing monkey, and when they’d traveled for hours to find some hipster, not Boar, they were all so embarrassed none of them spoke of that day again.
It all frustrated Drake so much he’d left—to search for new clues—he’d said, but since he’d switched off his phone and didn’t update them about his whereabouts, Tank was positive this was yet another fit of leave-me-alone coming from a guy who’d caused this whole mess with his reckless behavior.
Tank exhaled, wondering if he was okay, at least. Since Boar’s disappearance, Drake had spent more time away than with their small group, more often than not disappearing without telling anyone, only to reappear without explanation. There was no point in chastising him about it, no matter how much it stung that he didn’t want to turn to them for comfort, and preferred solitude instead. Though what he was up to during those secretive runs was anyone’s guess, and Tank respected him too much to bug the van.
When sunshine slapped him in the face and the scent of bacon became too intense to resist, Tank got up, ready to face a new day and Clover—the one part of their broken machine that still worked like a charm despite all he’d been through.
The trailer was the size of a bedroom and packed with necessities, but the kitchenette was the center of it all, and seeing Clover turn food in the sizzling pan put a rare smile on Tank’s face. The blonde-brown shade of his hair dimmed Clover’s features, but the fact that Clover felt he needed to dye it reminded Tank that he hadn’t managed to keep his boy safe. Still, he looked perfect with the sunshine illuminating his handsome features, dressed in fresh clothes, as if they weren’t at an austere campsite that didn’t even have access to running water.
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