Page 3 of Into Hell: Prelude (Holding Cell: Return to the Island)

U h!” Axel's breath hitched as he squeezed his thighs tightly around Clint's waist, his hips undulating urgently in the cowboy's lap.

He rode Clint's throbbing erection with an eager, almost desperate enthusiasm, his body slick with a sheen of sweat that caught the dim light, making him glisten like a bronze statue.

“ Fuck...” he panted, his breath hot and damp against Clint's hair, which clung to his fingers like dark, wet tendrils.

Axel's body shivered, every muscle taut and gleaming as rivulets of sweat snaked down the deep valley of his spine, smeared by Clint's calloused, trembling hands.

Clint's breath was a ragged, heated symphony against Axel's throat, his body tense and coiled beneath him.

“Fuck, baby...” he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble, signaling how close he was.

His hands, rough and demanding, gripped Axel's ass, spreading him wider, as he bucked his hips, driving deeper, harder, each thrust a relentless claim on Axel's body.

The bed quaked beneath them, its rhythmic dance against the wall echoing the wild, desperate pace of their lovemaking.

When Clint's hand snaked between them, reaching for Axel's pulsating cock, Axel gripped fistfuls of his damp hair, his breath hot and urgent in the cowboy’s ear.

“ No... don't touch... I wanna cum... without... hands...” he pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper.

Clint's hand retreated, and no argument passed his lips.

He knew how Axel loved to climax untouched, the orgasm crashing through him like a storm, unbridled and raw.

Out in the living room, Clint’s cell phone rang. When Axel started to pause, Clint crushed him in a bear hug. “ Leave it,” he growled—and fucked Axel harder.

“Fuck, I'm so close...” Axel whimpered, his mouth pressed to Clint's heated skin, his cock grinding against the cowboy's taut, slick stomach, his mind tuning out the ringing phone until it finally went silent.

Clint filled him, each thrust a searing, exquisite torture, hitting that spot deep inside him, again and again, until Axel's vision swam with stars and a pressure built at the base of his spine, threatening to explode.

He clawed at Clint's hair, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, his chest heaving. “Oh fuck... fuck—”

A soft, tentative knock echoed from the bedroom door, a jarring intrusion into their world of sweat and desire. Both men froze, their bodies trembling with the promise of release, left cruelly unfulfilled. Clint swallowed hard, his voice a raspy, uneven growl when he finally spoke. “What is it?”

A brief pause from the other side of the door, followed by a gentle, cautious, “Phone call for you, Dad.”

Clint released a stiff, slow breath, his muscular frame quivering beneath Axel. “Tell ‘em I’ll call them back.”

“It’s…” Luke’s quiet voice pressed back, muffled and weak, thick with sleep. “… he said… it’s important.”

“Fuck,” Clint mumbled into Axel’s damp shoulder.

Sighing shakily, Axel kissed him between the eyes. “We can finish after you take the call.” He kissed Clint passionately on the mouth. “Anticipation,” he whispered with a smile. “It’s good for us.”

Clint grunted. “Don’t know about that.”

Axel laughed lightly and lifted off him, shivering as the cowboy’s hard, thick muscle pulled out of him in a slippery, reluctant retreat.

Axel pulled the sheet up around his waist while Clint left the bed and tugged on his jeans, forcibly stuffing his stiff erection into his pants.

He exhaled heavily and dragged his hand down his sweaty, flushed face, then opened the door.

Luke stood outside, fidgeting nervously, with Clint’s cell phone in his hand. He glanced anxiously at Axel, then handed the phone to Clint and took a step back, quickly glancing between the two. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled his apology.

Sighing, Clint smiled small. “It’s all right, son,” he drawled. “Go on back to bed.”

Luke nodded, cast Axel another apologetic look, and went to his room.

Shaking his head, Clint closed the door and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Axel stayed silent, watching the cowboy’s expression shift from sexual tension to another kind—one Axel knew all too well. His stomach clenched, filled with nausea. What now? Phone calls in the middle of the night were never good news.

Clint grunted his responses, then muttered, “I’ll get back to you.” He ended the call, stuffed his phone into his back pocket, then pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket, not bothering with a shirt.

“What is it?” Axel sat up straighter. “Who was on the phone?”

“I’ll explain later,” was all Clint offered as he left the bedroom. A moment later, the backdoor opened and closed.

“Fuck,” Axel breathed and flopped back onto the pillows, their night of heated passion abruptly cut short by yet another intrusion from the inconsiderate world outside.

Foolishly, he’d thought that when Clint awoke in the middle of the night, hot and horny, there would be little chance of interruption. Silly you, Axel thought sourly.

Another sigh escaped him, and Axel closed his eyes, draping his arm over his face as he prayed that whatever was calling Clint this time wouldn’t take him away from home.

Their eyes locked.

“Where?” the Egyptian asked. He already knew the news was bad. It was midnight, and the cowboy was standing on his back porch—news was never good at midnight.

Clint’s reply cinched in his throat; how could he tell the man they were going back there? The rock of horrors that nearly snatched away the Egyptian’s sons, leaving one traumatized, possibly for the rest of his life.

Cochise’s face twitched. “Where?”

The cowboy spoke. “The island.”

The Egyptian’s face hardened like stone as a disturbing shadow flickered behind his pale gray eyes. “Why?”

“Agent Alvarez. He’s asked for our help.”

“What kind of help?”

“He wants to meet with us first thing in the morning. He’ll explain the situation.”

The Egyptian leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his mouth.

“We can say no,” Clint said.

Cochise held his stare, then looked back inside the house with a brief, subdued expression shadowing his face, which vanished as he turned back to Clint. “What time?”

“Six a.m.”

Cochise nodded. “I’ll be ready.” He sighed, stepped back inside, and closed the door.

Clint stood for a moment, staring at the door, then looked across the spacious backyard to his own house. Had he hoped the man would say no?

You know he can’t—any more than you can.

That was the bitch of it.

“Dad?”

Axel dragged his arm away from his face and sat upright. Luke stood in the bedroom doorway, nervously shifting his feet. Axel motioned for him to come closer.

The boy walked up to the bed with his head bowed and his steps unsure. “I’m sorry about…” he whispered, his words fading away.

“It’s okay.” Axel smiled. “Not your fault.” He patted the bed, and Luke crawled up beside him, lying back on Clint’s pillow. “Do you know who was on the phone?”

“He didn’t say. He just asked for dad.”

“Hm.”

“Dad didn’t tell you who it was?”

Axel sighed. “No, not yet. He’ll tell me when he gets back.”

“He went next door?”

“Yeah.”

“To talk to Cochise?”

“I assume so.”

Luke looked up at the ceiling, tension tightening his young body. “That’s not good, is it?”

Axel lay down next to him and looked up at the ceiling. “Probably not.”

“Is he… Is he gonna leave again?” Luke’s voice quivered.

“I hope not.”

“If he does…” Luke swallowed, and tears welled in the corners of his eyes. “… Will you go with him?”

Axel turned his head to look at the boy. A single tear rolled down Luke’s temple as his chin trembled. “Hey.” Axel propped on one elbow and wiped the tear away. “It’s going to be okay.”

Luke sniffed and wiped his eyes, but tears kept coming.

“I don’t want dad to go. It scares me when he’s gone.

But it scares me more when you’re both gone…

like last time.” He bit his lower lip, trying not to let the tears spill out.

“I-I saw how scared dad was when he couldn’t find you.

I was so scared he wouldn’t find you, that you… that you would never come home.”

“Come here,” Axel whispered, pulling Luke into his arms and kissing his hair. “I was scared too. But you understand why I had to go away, don’t you? It was the only way I could save Marisol.”

“I know,” Luke choked softly, pressing against Axel. “But I was still so scared I’d never see you again.”

Sometimes, when away from home, they forgot that those left behind suffered as well.

Trading himself for Marisol had been the only way to save the little girl, but had he stopped to consider what his own son had gone through during that time away?

It was the second time Axel had left and almost didn’t come back.

On the road to Canada, the bullet that grazed his head could have just as easily blown his brains out.

Luke wrapped his arms around Axel, trembling.

“I-I know I can’t ask Dad not to… do what he does.

I can’t because… because I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t do those things, but…

” His young arms tightened around Axel. “I can ask you not to go.” Sobs broke his voice.

“Please don’t go, please don’t leave us again… please…”

Axel exhaled shakily and held his son closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “Even if Clint has to go… I won’t. I promise. I won’t leave you and Hope.” He kissed his head. “I promise, I won’t leave you again.”

After a few moments, the tremors faded from Luke’s body and he relaxed as sleep began to take him.

When the backdoor opened, Axel eased off the bed, careful not to wake the boy, pulled on a robe, and walked into the kitchen.

Clint stood at the counter, preparing a fresh pot of coffee.

Axel glanced at the clock on the microwave: 3:47 a.m.

“Coffee?” Axel murmured. “Kind of early yet, isn’t it?” But he knew what this was; Clint was going somewhere, soon.

“Agent Alvarez wants to meet with us in the city at six.”

“Why?”

The hesitation in the cowboy heightened Axel’s concerns.

“He needs our help with something,” Clint mumbled as he dumped a scoop of coffee in the tray and snapped it closed, flipping the switch on the coffee maker.

“With what?” Axel asked.

Clint leaned on his arms, staring at the counter. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to tell Axel. He would— but he didn’t want to. And again, his reluctance fueled Axel’s worries about this new job because that’s surely what it was—another job.

“After all we’ve been through,” Axel said quietly, “I can handle it.” Was that true? God, he hoped so.

Clint sniffed, cleared his throat, and looked at Axel. “I don’t know all the specifics yet, but…” He exhaled slowly. “… it involves… the island.”

Nope. Axel was wrong. He couldn’t handle it—not if it meant Clint returning to that place of horror.

Kane was waiting in the kitchen when Cochise returned from the back porch. The look on the Egyptian’s face spoke volumes, revealing things to Kane that he didn’t want to hear. The man avoided eye contact as he put on some fresh coffee.

“How long?” Kane murmured.

Cochise shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he grabbed a travel mug, removed the lid, and scooped in dry creamer along with a spoonful of sugar. He set the mug aside while the coffee brewed.

Kane sighed. “You know you have to tell me.”

Cochise seemed to search for something else to do, even if just for distraction, but found nothing. “Agent Alvarez has new information about the island,” he said quietly. “Clint didn’t know the details, but Alvarez asked to meet with us at six this morning.”

“The island,” Kane whispered, his stomach twisting.

They had nearly lost John and Donald to that horrible place.

A part of John was gone. He hadn’t been quite the same since coming home, trauma clinging to him like a second skin he couldn’t shed.

Clint had almost lost Axel to that place as well.

And others, too, who barely made it back.

“We don’t know anything yet,” Cochise said. “Don’t start worrying.”

Pressing his lips tightly together, Kane thought, ‘Too late’ , as he looked at the Egyptian, reminded once again of how much he loved the man—and how badly it scared him every time he went away on a job. And one that took him back to the island?

Maybe that isn’t what Alvarez wants of them.

Yet, the tension grinding Cochise’s muscles into stone suggested otherwise.