by Lucy Eden
It was Remi.
“Sonofabitch,” Grant huffed out a laugh. Remi was standing with hands on his hips, hair and clothes plastered to his body and face. He swallowed hard and was grateful for the small flair of pleasure he got at seeing Remi stuck in the mud after their little run in. He laughed then, even threw his head back and let the sound of it fill his truck. Maybe he wouldn’t be trying to clear his mind tonight, not with the image of a stranded Remi to keep him entertained. He was still laughing when he slowed, or at least he meant to slow as he came down the hill---instead his wheels spun and locked and before he knew it the truck was sliding forward.
“Shit!” Grant turned the wheel guiding the truck away from Remi and onto the shoulder. He swore as the truck came to a sliding stop. He sighed and refused to look out the window where he knew Remi was. Where the other man was probably, as in, definitely staring at him. He threw the truck in reverse and hit the gas but to his chagrin, the truck only rocked back an inch before the wheels began to spin.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Remi’s figure approaching and he grit his teeth and tried once more to back right out of this bad dream. “I shoulda never laughed at his ass. I knew it.” His foot pressed on the gas again, he pressed on the pedal until the damn thing nearly went through the floor but again the truck didn’t move and still Remi came closer.
“This is exactly what I get. Fucking karma and--”
The rap of knuckles against the glass of driver door made his jaw tighten and he would have bit right through his tongue if he had caught the thing just then. He took in a deep breath and this time it was his jaw that ached when he threw the car in park and turned his head to look at Remi.
Grant’s breath shuddered at the sight of one rain-soaked Remi. His shirt was nearly transparent and Grant felt his gut clench at the white material that could have been poured, not fitted, to Remi’s body. Every muscle ridge, dip, and godforsaken plane of flesh was on display for an audience of one. If Grant had entertained any thought that he’d be thinking of anything else but Remi that night, it was over and done. His jeans were slung low on his hips, waterlogged and weighed down until it exposed a strip of tan and muscled skin to him. Grant licked his lips and when Remi threw out his hands gesturing at him in a move that could only be classified as “What the fuck?” he sighed and rolled down the window.
“Yeah?” he said.
“What the fuck?” Remi threw his hands up.
Grant rolled his eyes. “What?”
“Were you tryin’ run my ass over or were you not paying attention on your own damn road?”
“You’re one to talk! You’re the one in the middle of the fucking road, Remi! I went off the road trying to miss you.” Grant jabbed a finger at Remi. He scoffed and raised a hand shoving his hair back out of his eyes and glared at Grant.
“Because when was the last time you had this road graveled huh? It washed out! A goddamn cup of water woulda washed this thing out!”
Grant bit his lip and said nothing. He had him there.
“It’s on my list!”
“Sure it is!”
Grant opened his mouth to shout at Remi but then shut it with a snap and inhaled deeply. Why the hell was he screaming at Remi in the middle of a thunderstorm? “Look,” he said, after he had taken a beat to calm himself, “let’s get out of here. Does your truck start?” he asked.
“No. Engine got flooded. I’m stuck until I get a tow.”
Grant hooked a thumb at his cab. “Get in then. We’ll come back for it after the rain.”
Remi gave a quick nod and strode around the truck. A second later he was climbing into the cab and he shut the door with a slam. Neither of them said anything, both men sitting in the stillness with the rain thrumming overhead. Grant took in another deep calming breath and glanced out towards Remi’s truck. It was at a low point of the road, the water high there, and he shook his head at the sight of it.
“You’re right. I should have been concentrating more on maintaining this road. This is on me.”
Remi snorted but said nothing and leaned back in his seat. Grant took it as an acknowledgment of his apology and he once more made to reverse onto the road, except that once more the truck failed to move.
He cleared his throat and turned the wheel choosing to try again and made no progress. Remi turned towards him then arched an eyebrow and had what Grant knew to be a smug look on his handsome face.
“You’re stuck,” he said matter-of-factly.
Grant shook his head and cranked the engine again trying to drive forward, but his wheels spun uselessly kicking up mud in vain.
“Grant, you aren’t going anywhere.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re dead in the water.”
“Like hell.” Grant floored it, and this time the truck lurched but it wasn’t forward. Instead, it was to sink down into the soft red Georgia mud and he growled in frustration. “Fuck.” He slammed a hand on the wheel and glared with unseeing eyes ahead of him. He was still glaring ahead of them, eyes focused on the rain-splattered windshield when the sound of Remi’s low chuckle began. Grant’s fingers flexed on the wheel. “Something you’d like to say?” he asked.
Remi scoffed and shook his head. “Come on, let’s get a move on.” He threw open the door and exited the truck, all the while still laughing. Grant didn’t want to follow suit, but he knew it was the only way they were going to get out of this. Reception was horrible and even if it wasn’t there was no way they would be able to call a tow while the storm continued to rage. No one was going to come get them, not this far out of town and not on this beat up and washed out road. He sighed and followed Remi out of the truck. They were walking all right but when he turned in the direction of town he saw that he was the only one.
“Where ya going?” Remi called out to him and he spun around to see the other man walking in the direction of the greenhouse.
“To town!” Grant yelled. He threw his hands out in frustration when Remi showed no sign of slowing down. “Where the hell are you going, Remi? Come back here!”
Remi kept walking, not even sparing a glance at Grant which meant he was going to have to go after the man. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, stomping after Remi. He swore when he nearly went sprawling in the mud. Perhaps stomping was a bit ambitious, given the mud he was trying to navigate. He righted himself and took in a deep breath, willing himself to be calmer, but it was no use; the confusion and anxiety he had suffered at Remi’s treatment had been transformed into anger and it was with the burning hot edges of it itching at his skin, that Grant continued on after Remi.
He only slowed when he caught up with him at the base of the hill his truck had struggled to traverse only minutes before. “Why are we going this way?” he grit out between clenched teeth.
Remi lifted a hand and pushed the hair out his face squinting at Grant in the rain. “Because town’s too far. We make it back to your greenhouse, wait this thing out, then we can call from that phone you had put in.”
Grant stiffened. The phone, that was right. He’d had the line put in and it had been a big to do in Plenty as no utilities had been put in this far out of town. He’d forgotten all about it, that’s how damn mad he’d been at Remi.
“Good idea,” he admitted, jaw still clenched. “Let’s move it,” he said, brushed past Remi, and continued on down the road. How had he forgotten about the telephone back at the greenhouse? He slowed though, when he wondered on how Remi had remembered it at all. When he was dropping off supplies to Grant, he couldn’t get done and gone fast enough...but somehow he had remembered a phone that hung on a hook beside the back door before Grant had even thought of it.
Maybe the other man noticed more than he let on.
Grant tilted his head, catching sight of Remi out of the corner of his eye...or as much as he was able through the downpour. He was walking along, matching Grant step for step, even though the man was doing his best to leave him behind. Remi’s brown hair had
come loose and was plastered to his neck, the ends of it reaching his collarbones and making Grant think of what it had been like to kiss the surprisingly soft skin there. Grant’s lips pressed into a frown and he forced himself to look ahead. They had about a mile left of walking before the greenhouse would be in front of them and he didn’t much like the thought of torturing himself with a walk down memory lane for the whole of it.
Thankfully his focus and strength of will, plus the ever-growing need to get out of the battering storm which only seemed to increase in intensity, gales of wind, and nearly sideways blowing rain gave the right motivation for getting indoors. He sighed in relief as the greenhouse came into sight and before long he was pushing open the door and shaking himself off as he stepped inside. His skin was practically singing in relief after enduring the storm and he shivered, shaking his arms out and yanked his shirt off. The last thing he wanted was anything touching his body, it was almost too much after the rain.
“What the hell, Grant?” Remi slammed the door shut behind them and scowled at him.
“What?”
“Put your shirt back on.”
Grant scoffed. “No.”
“What are you trying to do, huh? Put your clothes back on,” Remi ordered, spitting the words out at him. He stepped close then, his body crowding Grant against the worktable behind him. He backed up in surprise, his back hitting it and he blinked in surprise at the anger he saw in Remi’s gray eyes. They stared at one another in silence then, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, until they were nearly touching. If Grant leaned forward he could press his mouth to the very spot he’d thought about earlier, that dip in Remi’s body right before his broad chest began. It would make him gasp, he knew that sound well, and then he’d put a hand to the other man’s cheek, fingers seeking and moving until he was cradling his head, until his fingers were twisting in his brown hair, giving the locks a tug until Remi’s head was tipping back and offering the expanse of his throat to Grant’s mouth.
He knew all of this and yet he did not move. He was still too angry over the way Remi had been acting since he’d set foot in Plenty, too angry over his behavior even today. He’d tried to fix it over and over again only to have it thrown back in his face. He wouldn’t touch him.
Not yet.
“I said no,” Grant growled. He leaned in then, eyes locked with Remi’s for a beat before he dropped his gaze to his mouth. That mouth was beautiful as anything carved from stone had a right to be. Pillow lips soft and inviting, or they could be, had been once. Now they were twisted in anger at him.
He wouldn’t touch him. Not until Remi begged.
Remi looked surprised at his answer. A look of uncertainty passing his face at Grant’s answer. He backed up a step but Grant came with him, pushing away from the table, eating up the space between them with sure steps.
“Whatever,” Remi said but his voice was weaker now, a tremble could be heard in it and Grant had never heard anything sweeter. This was more like it. This was the man he had once known.
“Whatever?” He tilted his head to the side and for a moment he felt like a predator stalking his prey. He almost stopped then, but he had had quite enough of Remi Wilson’s shit. He rolled his shoulders, aware the movement brought attention to the muscles he’d grown through the honest work of lugging fertilizer, hours of digging holes and laying new ground.
“Why’re you actin’ shy now, sweetheart?” he asked and Remi’s head snapped back as if he had been slapped. Grant had always been the gentle one out of the pair of them, pet names and sweet nothings plentiful on his tongue when it came to talking to Remi. Sweetheart had been his favorite because of course it had been Remi’s favorite. Anything Remi had wanted, Grant had given him willingly...everything of course, except for staying in Plenty.
The thought had Grant in motion once more. He’d loved this man with everything in him and Remi had ended it, shut the door on them before they’d had a chance and he was damn mad about it, and it was time Remi found out.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Fightin’ me. Fightin’ us.” Grant made a line in the air with a hand, the gesture sharp and quick, just like the hurt he’d felt every time Remi turned his back on him. “I’m sick and tired of the bullshit.”
Remi began to shake his head but Grant continued on cutting him off and this time it was Remi back pedaling until his back hit the glass of the greenhouse wall. “I don--”
“Stop it, sweetheart.” Grant leaned in, voice rugged and rough. “You know what I mean. You hurt me. You hurt us. Why? Why do you keep doing it?”
Remi blinked, his normally cold eyes suddenly going soft before he was blinking back tears and moving to look away from Grant, but he was done with Remi Wilson not looking at him.
“Look at me,” he ordered. Remi’s eyes snapped back to his face in an instant. “I’m mad as hell, Remi.”
The other man’s handsome features twisted in pain and he sucked in a ragged breath. “I know.”
“I still love your sorry ass,” Grant told him.
“I know.”
“Tell me what else you know?”
“I know that I still love you too.”
Grant leaned back then truly surprised at the confession, but the anger that had been awakened in him showed no signs of abating and he crossed his arms over his bare chest and leveled a look at Remi that said that those words weren’t enough. Not by a mile.
“I’m sorry,” Remi continued on, voice catching and Grant raised an eyebrow at him.
“Show me, sweetheart. Show me how fucking sorry you are because I’m real,” he rubbed his bottom lip with a thumb and made sure to do it nice and slow remembering how Remi had liked his mouth. “Real damn mad.”
Remi swallowed hard, eyes tracking the movement, and then he was moving, sinking to his knees in the soft dirt beneath them. The area was a clear space in the business of Grant’s greenhouse. It was normally used for outgoing orders but he hadn’t quite gotten around to that this week and he’d never been more glad for the open space.
Remi looked up at him then and Grant swore. “Say it again,” he managed while Remi reached for his belt buckle.
“I’m sorry,” Remi breathed out yanking his belt free and working on his jeans with eager fingers. “I love you. I’m so fucking sorry. You left, and it killed me. I’ve been so angry, and I just-just need your hands on me so much that I can’t stand it--”
Grant bent low, catching the man’s mouth with his own and stealing his words. He kissed Remi with the kind of need that only the seasoning of years apart and aching could give. Their mouths moved together, lips and teeth clashing as they relearned how to breathe as one, how to move together, but Grant had always been a quick study and it appeared Remi was as well. They were just that way together and a shared moan passed between the once lovers, their kiss transforming until it was the only thing Grant cared about.
The world could fall down around them and he wouldn’t care. Not if he could keep Remi Wilson with him, kissing him like this and touching him as he was. God it was perfect. They separated with a shuddering gasp, both men’s breath coming short as they did so and there were no words, not right now.
They broke apart, Grant standing as Remi pulled Grant’s jeans and pants down, the garments catching at Grant’s knees but there wasn’t time to step out of them, not when he needed the other man as he did. He gasped when Remi’s hands found his balls, fingers fondling them gently as he began to stroke his dick with ever increasing strokes.
“Fucking hell,” Grant breathed, his head lolling back and he reached out, putting a hand on the wall behind Remi. He opened his eyes then, when Remi moved close, his tongue circling the head of Grant’s cock before he took the head of it into his mouth with an eager moan.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Grant encouraged him. It hadn’t been like this with anyone, not since he’d left Plenty and now with his
cock in Remi’s mouth it was like coming home. His hips moved then thrusting forward into Remi’s mouth as his free hand caught in his hair. He wrapped the length of it in his fist urging the other man forward and the only way to describe the sound from Remi at that was licentious.
He was loving it. Always had loved making Grant weak-kneed, still did.
He gasped as Remi began to suck and bob his head in earnest, his mouth hot and welcoming as he brought Grant closer to the edge. He swore and tried to focus on the rain still falling outside but the truth was that he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not when the man he loved was on his knees working him over, not when it had been a long dry spell for Grant. With anyone else he could manage it, but Remi? Remi was pure magic and he felt the familiar tightening of his balls signaling that he was about to crash right over the edge and lose it entirely.
“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart,” he bit out, breath short now and he leaned forward, his hand balling into a fist on the cool glass in front of him. “You gotta stop--” his voice cut off when Remi began to suck him off with even more energy. He looked down, and saw Remi looking up at him with a gleam in his eye. He knew exactly what he was doing, wanted to do in fact if the messy sounds he was making were any indication; the wet sound of his mouth on Grant’s dick, the way he was practically smirking around said dick with his long pretty hair wet and stuck to his face, and god, his free hand cradling Grant’s ass, fingers sliding between the cleft of his ass and a seeking finger pressing against him in the way he knew drove Grant crazy, all of that---well that was when he came undone.
“Remi!” Grant came with a shout head, falling back, back bowing as he shot his release into Remi’s eager mouth. And that mouth swallowed every last drop of it, and if he could have passed out he might have, except that now he had Remi back and that kept him standing and as lucid as he could manage.