Page 32 of Breakdown
Hewasn’tstrong enough, though. Nik had buried too deep, filled too much of his world to be crudely wrenched out and it didn’t matter how selfish he told himself he was for wanting this.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed, voice cracking, “yeah, ok.” He kept his eyes in his lap as Nik drove on, ashamed at the relief he felt.
He didn’t notice Nik had taken a detour until he shifted the Mustang into park a few minutes later, the roar of the engine idling to a purr. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness pressing in on the car, Peter recognized the small lot, heavily wooded, bare except for some post markers, a garbage can, and a few scattered picnic tables. It had all started here. The fleeting, irrational, devastating thought struck Peter that maybe Nik had changed his mind after all and brought him back here to end it. It didn’t help that Nik wasn’t saying anything. He was just staring out of the windshield inscrutably like he was working up to something.
“Bit cold for a hike, isn’t it?” Peter finally ventured.
“Perhaps,” Nik agreed, but he shut off the engine and got out of the car just the same. He stood at the edge of the woods, his shearling collar flipped up against the cold, one hand jammed into his coat pocket. Peter scrambled out of his seatbelt to follow him, unsure. But, as he neared, Nik’s other hand comfortably caught Peter’s own, their fingers entwining with warm, habitual ease. Peter held onto that hand with a desperation that scared him as Nik led him up the familiar, winding climb.
They crested the steep hill in silence. The brush beneath their feet was scrubby and browning, the ground giving way to slick pats of mud. The Santa Monica Bay was a bleak gray expanse stretching out onto a stormy ocean. But the stars...he’d forgotten how they looked up here away from the light pollution of the city: radiant points of promise against the encroaching blackness of the night. Peter suddenly remembered the hope he felt, that first night up here with Nik. His mouth felt horribly dry.
Nik cleared his throat a few times, his free hand working in his jacket pocket like he was searching in there for something to say. “This was stupid.” His brows knit, soft and anxious. “I am sorry, I should not have made you come up here. It is cold and it has been a long night for both of us. We should go home.”
Peterwascold and he did want to go home, but he couldn’t bear to disappoint Nik. At least not any more than he already had tonight. He pulled Nik down with him as he planted himself in the withering winter chaparral. “It’s fine. I’m fine, really.”
Nik leaned forward, closing the gap between them. He thumbed delicately along Peter’s jaw, ghosting over the spot where Liv had struck him. Peter dragged the bracing salt air into his lungs with breaths that were growing alarmingly ragged.
“I know,” Nik said, sliding his huge, warm hand across the back of Peter’s neck and drawing him in. His dark, gentle brown eyes bored right into Peter’s core. “You are always fine.”
And that was it—he was brittle and fragile enough that that was all it took to shatter him. Peter pushed himself against Nik with a despair that nearly hurt, forehead to collar bone, the night finally catching up to him and the weight of it all knocking him flat.
“Fuck,” Peter exhaled the word, muffled and raw, into the solid plane of Nik’s chest. Nik wrapped Peter tightly in his arms, the thump of his heartbeat a steady reassurance in Peter’s ear. He carded his fingers through Nik’s curls, breathing him in—the scent of cars and cheap, musky soap andshelter.
He let Nik just hold him for a moment: like he deserved it, like he didn’t have to earn it, like he was worthy of love no matter how fucked up he or everything else around him was.It was coupled with a fear so great that it threatened to swallow Peter whole. “I don’t want to lose you,” he choked out.
“I am right here,” Nik soothed, stroking his hair gently. “I am not going anywhere, I promise you.”
It was true, and Peter was never, ever going to be worthy of it. He wept, like there was too much inside of him and it was never going to stop coming. Nik didn’t let him go, just held on as the waves crested and crashed, until Peter was finally wrung out dry, his chest hitching with the effort.
Nik kissed him then, tenderly, again and again. The top of his head, his cheek, his jawline, his fingertips and knuckles and wrist and the neat, deep scar on his forearm. “You are going to be okay,” he whispered hoarsely.
Peter wanted so badly to believe him or to at least stay in this moment with him where that was true—together in the eye of the storm. He kissed Nik back, needful and graceless. The solid familiar heat of his mouth against Peter’s drove the darkness back, leaving only warmth and incredible light.
It was love and it had always been. From that very first moment they came up here, for the last, stupidly wonderful, impossible year and a half, Peter had been in real, honest-to-God love. And no matter what happened tomorrow, no one could take that away from him. Peter wouldn’t let them.
Peter slid a hand under Nik’s jacket, the smooth muscles of his abdomen contracting beneath Peter’s touch as he deepened the kiss. Peter wanted Nik, needed him now. He dug a packet of lube out of his back pocket, shifting himself to straddle Nik’s lap.
Nik rooted his huge hands on Peter’s hipbones. Bracing him, his eyes dark with desire, lips parted and flush, Nik searched Peter’s face intently. “Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes,” Peter moaned impatiently, horrified with how desperate he sounded as he voiced it out loud. On the heels of that came the incredible, terrible self-doubt. “Do you...not...?”
“I do,” Nik said. “This is just a lot, okay? You just tried to pick a fight with me and then basically had a small breakdown and then we moved right into this. I want to make sure you are alright first. Take a minute for yourself.”
Grey dawn was already threatening to break over the horizon. They didn’t have another minute; they only had tonight and it was quickly running out. “What if this is the last time, Nik?”
“It will not be.”
“What if you’re wrong?” He hated the panicky ache that settled behind his ribs.
“If I am?” Nik adjusted their position—Nik’s chest against Peter’s back, his chin resting on Peter’s shoulder, his breath warm and steady in Peter’s ear—so they were looking over the bay. The dark glass of the ocean, the delicate blanket of stars spread out before them, the breeze stirring the chaparral in rippling waves, it all seemed to stretch on in front of them forever. As though it were offering a promise that just maybe their future could too. Nik’s solid arms around his waist felt eternal, like hope, like home. “Then this is what I want to remember, Peter.”
After a long, quiet moment, Nik landed a feather-light kiss into the hollow of Peter’s collarbone, and that felt right too.
Peter flushed, desire and affection warming his whole body, radiating out from that gentle, insistent connection point. “I love you, Nik.”
“I love you too.” Nik’s voice was low and husky, and the rumble of it against his skin made Peter’s cock twitch with renewed insistence.
Mouth on his, Peter twisted to meet Nik, pressing him back with urgent kisses until they were flat in the grass, Nik pinned underneath his hips. Peter gasped as Nik’s calloused fingertips slid under Peter’s waistband in response, splaying across the sharp points of his hipbones and gripping hard. Peter ground down into him, Nik’s firm length against his thigh sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.
