Page 63 of The Fallen
Bryn chuckled, ran his tongue slowly up the underside of Gil’s cock, stopped at the tip, and met his eyes. “I’m a cat. I like to play with my food.”
“I have an idea,” Gil said. “Stand up.”
Bryn swiped the back of his hand over his lips, and he did what Gil asked. Gil grasped the hem of Bryn’s robe and lifted it over his head. He skated his hands over Bryn’s lean belly reverently. With one finger, he traced the star of raised, white skin above Bryn’s heart and said, “I’ve thought about you alot since that night, how your body felt under my hands. I’ve thought about doing this with you….”
He arranged their cast-off clothing as best he could and stretched out on his back, his fair skin flushed pink with arousal, his lips swollen, that fat dick throbbing with his heartbeat.
“Fionn’s thumb, look at you….”
“Come here.”
Bryn took Gil’s outstretched hand and let himself by guided down onto his side facing Gil, Gil’s erection inches from his face. Tight warmth closed around Bryn’s cock, and Gil’s whiskers brushed his flesh as Gil’s head bobbed up and down. Following his lead, Bryn got down to business too, swallowing Gil deep and swirling his tongue around the head when he pulled back.
Bryn’s balls tightened, and before he knew it, he was dancing on the edge of release. He grasped Gil’s cock at the base and sucked hard, letting Gil thrust into his mouth. As soon as he tasted the first droplets of Gil’s release, Bryn exploded, pleasure wracking his body, making him twitch and tremble. He sunk his claws into Gil’s thigh to hold on, lest he be blown away by the intensity of it all.
A minute later, Bryn slipped from Gil’s mouth as Gil threw his head back and shouted out his own release. His warm seed flooded Bryn’s mouth, and Bryn swallowed it down, sucking to make sure he harvested every drop.
Afterward, Gil guided Bryn onto his wide chest and petted his hair and down his back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done that,” Gil said with a chuckle.
Bryn was happy to see him sprawled out, not curled in and making himself small. The firelight accentuated the planes of his body and turned the hair covering it to crimson and gold.
“I couldn’t tell.” Bryn circled Gil’s nipple with his finger.
“Good.” Gil closed his arms around Bryn and buried his nose and lips in Bryn’s thick hair. They dozed until it got too cold tolay naked and Gil had to put his clothes back on. He twisted from side to side, cracking his back, as he looked south into the night.
“I knew it. I think I can see the Southwest Head Lighthouse,” Gil announced. “We got lucky.”
“We certainly did.”
Gil blushed. “I mean we’re on Grand Manan Island. We’ll be able to find somebody to take us back to Maine as soon as the sun comes up. There are still fisherman and even tourists. Then… then I have to decide how to tell Grady that I lost over a million dollars’ worth of fentanyl.”
CHAPTER 7
Afishing boat took them to Eastport, and Uncle Doddie met them in front of the pier by 8:00 a.m. It was a cold, bright morning, and the puddles reflecting the blue sky were the only indication there’d been a storm at all. Uncle Doddie looked old and tired as Gil climbed into the blue truck. The strong sun showed the blue veins beneath his thin skin when he took off his cap to rub a hand over his bald head. It made Gil sad, that irrefutable evidence that his uncle wouldn’t be with him forever.
It made it even harder to lie to him.
“Hell of a thing.” Uncle Doddie shook his head as he backed away from the coast guard building and the little hotdog stand across from it. “And theFreya, lost. What were you doing out there, Gil?”
“Fishing.” Gil settled Mr. Brimstone—Bryn—into his lap, where the cat immediately started making biscuits with his big paws.
“Fishing,” Uncle Doddie repeated.
“There was no sign of bad weather,” Gil said. “The sky was as clear as glass when we set out.”
“You know, you don’t have to do it,” Uncle Doddie said. “The fishing. Hell, boy, the house has been in the family for four generations, and my pension from the Coast Guard is more than enough to keep us fed until you… figure things out. You’ve got one life, Gil. Make something of it. Don’t throw it away.”
He left thelike your motherunsaid, but Gil heard it anyway.
Gil sunk lower in his seat, making himself as small as he could and curling his shoulders around the cat. But then Bryn’s green eyes met his, and they held a sharpness Gil felt in his belly. He pushed his shoulders back, sat up straight, and looked over at his uncle. He hoped only Bryn could hear the rapid beat of his heart.
“You’re right,” Gil said decisively. “I’m going to take care of it.”
Uncle Doddie smiled as he pulled onto the highway, and half an hour later, they were home. The trees surrounding the house blazed with autumn color, and a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins from the back garden sat in front of the porch.
“Go on,” Uncle Doddie said, not turning off the truck. “Clean up and get some rest. I’m going to head into Machias to the insurance office, let them know what happened to theFreya. You do what you need to do.”
“I will.” Gil patted his uncle’s shoulder and stepped out of the truck, followed by Bryn. The hard rain had brought out the scent of the leaves, and they mingled with sea air. It was fresh and bracing, and it felt like a new start, though Gil wasn’t naïve enough to think it would be that simple.
