Page 37 of Hell and Gone
“You already saved my life—”
“Because I been there, Everett. I been staring at the bottom and beggin’ for the end. I been screaming at the night, hatin’ that I just stubbornly keep on existin’. I know this song ‘n’dance,” he whispered. “It took someone else to get me out of that pit, and I bet you ain’t got no one around you helpin’ you right now. You push everyone who knows you away? Or did you run as far as you could?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Everett hissed. “You don’t know me—”
“I know a bit. I know enough to know what you need.”
“And what the fuck is that?”
Lawrence stared. Firelight flickered over his skin, danced in his dark eyes. “When’s the last time you feltanythin’?” he whispered.
It had been too long. Two years and eight months and fifteen days too long. Since he’d kissed a man, since he’d touched another man the way he wanted. Or since he’d been touched the way he wanted.
Since he’d stolen a kiss and a wink from Holt after the mission brief before they’d climbed into the Humvees and made their way up the mountains to that God damn village.
Lawrence cradled him in his arms, his hands stroking his skin, playing in the small of his back. His skin was flushed, sweat pricking the surface, overheated from the fire and the blankets, but Lawrence’s touch burned hotter, left trails of sparks where his fingers ran down his skin. Every point of contact was a brand done on the inside of him.
His eyes traced Lawrence’s face, from his open mouth, the soft pants falling from him, to his eyes. Lawrence’s pupils were so wide and dark they swallowed the burnished mahogany of his eyes, the color of the deep woods. With the firelight dancing in their gleam, his eyes looked like the forest set ablaze, the whole world turned to flame. The Crazies were inside of Lawrence, had shaped him, had made him into the man he was.
And Lawrenceknewhimself, the very center of himself. He was everything Everett was not, solidity made flesh, certainty shaped into a man. Everett chased ghosts and steered clear of shadows, flickered away from the past like a candle shying its flame. Meeting Lawrence was like meeting an immoveable force of nature. He was the mountain, the peak, the steadiness. And Everett had blown up against him, wind-torn and ravaged, a broken thing thrown away, discarded from life and everything he’d hoped for.
Once the Crazies get in you, you can’t get them out.
Lawrence waited, his fingers tracing the knobs of Everett’s spine. One palm slid down. Hesitated. Cupped the curve of his ass.
His touch was a promise.I’ll make you feel somethin’.He heard it in his mind in Lawrence’s drawl, his swaying accent. He was already inside of him, already the voice in his mind.
Groaning, Everett captured Lawrence’s lips, tasted him, pulled him close with both hands. Lawrence wrapped him up, Everett’s body almost disappearing in his massive hold. Everett was no small man, but Lawrence was almost double his size.
He had to feel Lawrence, touch him. Touch a man again, and be touched.
He needed some crazy in him.
They kissed as Everett stripped Lawrence’s shirt, undoing buttons and shoving the flannel down Lawrence’s arms. Lawrence shook the shirt off and then wrapped his arms around Everett again, pulling him until their skin touched and their chests rubbed together.
Everett threw his head back. He was burning. Lawrence was going to burn him alive.
Lawrence ran his hands over all of Everett, his back, his ass, up to his shoulders. He rolled his hips into Everett’s, the jeans and his belt buckle rough against Everett’s naked skin. Everett hissed. Lawrence pulled back. “Sorry,” he whispered. His voice shook.
“Take them off.” Everett reached for his fly. “Get them off, now.”
Lawrence fought with his belt, his fly, his jeans. He toed off his boots, thumbed his waistband. “What do you want, Everett?”
“Make me feel again. Feelsomethingagain. I haven’t felt anything until I met you.”
Lawrence pulled down his jeans and stepped out of them, left them on the ground as he grabbed Everett and pulled their bodies together from head to toe. Skin rubbed against skin, golden in the firelight, warm from the flames and the heat of their blood. Their cocks pushed against each other, twin lengths hard enough to cut wood. Lawrence shivered, and he bucked into Everett’s hips.
His hands dropped, held Everett at the waist as his lips moved down Everett’s neck, over his collarbone. Down to his pec, where he bit the curved muscle. Nuzzled Everett’s nipple, and then sucked it hard.
Everett groaned.
Hands grabbed both of his ass cheeks, cupping them. A grunt and a lift, and then Lawrence hefted him into his arms. Everett wrapped his legs around Lawrence’s waist and his arms around his shoulders. He stared into Lawrence’s eyes.
“Take me,” he said. “Fuck me. I want tofeelit, Law.”
Lawrence kissed his neck, his collarbone, feather-light. “Let me make love to you.”
“I want tofeelit.” He needed to feel alive again, like he hadn’t, not since the spreading pool of blood, and the taste of dust on his lips.
