Page 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HANK

Thunder and lightning crash around the shelter, while wind whips the trees. The flashes of light illuminate Elliot’s body as we grunt against each other on the ground. He’s got his hand between my legs as he plays with my rim, and I’m rubbing his dick as I pant under my breath.

Broken clam shells litter the ground, the last remnants of yesterday’s only victory before the storm arrived. Before we returned to being doomed and hungry and stranded under our cliff.

And horny now, which is a hell of a lot better than miserable and not-horny used to feel.

“You’re so hot when you do that gasping thing,” Elliot says.

I grab his ass, squeezing his body closer to me. “I’m afraid I sound a bit more feral in the cave than I usually would.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid of that, Hank,” he teases.

Thunder crashes again outside, and my pulse beats in my ears. What started as a late-afternoon drizzle grew into a steady storm that roared through the night. Elliot and I slept huddled in each other’s arms, but it hasn’t slowed, and the sky is dark as midnight even though I suspect it’s day.

Storms in this region could last for days. In extreme cases, the rain could stretch on beyond a week.

The thoughts evaporate as Elliot licks his fingers and plays with my hole, pleasuring me.

My body quakes in response. There’s nothing like anal penetration happening on this island, but the rim play is enough to drive me wild.

And with nothing else to do but hide, our bodies are a needed distraction.

I wrap my leg around Elliot and pull him to me, my brain alive with adrenaline as the weather rages, wind roaring violently.

When I get him on the ground, I take his dick in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his twitching erection.

Elliot paws at the back of my head and moans his appreciation, and rain blows in sideways and wets my back while I suck him.

The crash of a falling branch cracks behind me. Under the shelter of the cliff, spruce needles scatter in the wind. The apocalyptic storm rages, and Elliot and I cling to each other in the center of it, groaning and grabbing.

I stop sucking him and push him backward, getting us as close to the rocky wall as we can.

Sheltered from the storm, he’s safe, and I go at him again.

We stroke each other and make out, rolling against the mossy stone.

Thunder rumbles around us, and pleasure burns through me, every muscle and nerve molten.

I finish Elliot off first, sucking his cock until he’s groaning my name, and then he jerks me to completion, his other hand between my cheeks.

Collapsed and sweaty in each other’s arms, we watch the storm’s fury.

“We’re safe from lightning under here, right?” Elliot asks. “It won’t come in sideways.”

“This is good lightning shelter, yes,” I assure him. I shift my weight, letting him find a comfortable spot against my side. “Even if the rain continues for days, there should be breaks enough in the lightning for us to visit the creek. Maybe gather food.”

Elliot looks up to me. “Days,” he says.

I rub the back of my head. “Conditions are returning to bleak.”

“Bleak with blowjobs,” Elliot offers.

We made a small fire to cook the clams, but there wasn’t enough dry time to ignite the signals, and we’ve failed to complete the second X on the beach. With a dwindling stash of violets, we’re not prepared for an extended stay in the shelter, either.

Elliot strokes my leg. The intimate gesture comes naturally, and I don’t pull away. Now that we’ve acknowledged our mutual attraction, it feels easy to seek comfort in each other.

The high of sex wears off, but the desire to protect Elliot stays strong, and so I get him under my arm.

“I wonder if they’re still actively searching for us,” he says. “When would they stop?”

“I’m not sure.” The idea stresses me. “Our plan stays the same, either way.”

Elliot sighs sadly. “My life is going to be such a mess. If I’m not working, I’m not getting paid.”

I look out into the raging storm. “It’s been nearly a week. We’re going to need serious medical attention, too.”

“I can’t stress enough the amount of porn I’m going to need to draw.”

“Is it porn?” I ask, curious.

“Some of it is, some of it isn’t. Although what does the distinction mean, anyway? The fact that most of my illustrations are sexual even though they’re not necessarily about sex, that’s what makes it a kink in the first place.”

“I understand with some of the drawings you mentioned,” Hank says. “The superheroes had erections. And the wasp ladies. There’s pain involved, and penetration. Domination. But you mentioned one that’s just mythological creatures blowing bubbles.”

“Those are my favorite clients.” Elliot sits up.

“There are entire online communities into mythological creatures blowing bubbles. I’m a minor celebrity in that world.

Who else understands the subtleties in how an ogre, a river spirit, or a centaur might purse the lips?

Who else cares about the color of the bubble like I do?

And I don’t pander to my audience with hunky, generic heroes.

No! I deliver real, everyday faerie dragons.

The working woman’s swamp witch, caught in a private moment of play. ”

I laugh as the rain pours. “It sounds quite fun, actually.”

Elliot shrugs. His eyes are sunken, and his hair is wild. “I like fan communities. Small crowds of enthusiasts. Geeky stuff like that.”

“I’m a local library fan,” I share. “I adore a book reading with an audience of three.”

“Exactly.” Elliot smiles. “No one’s putting Sonic the Horny Hedgehog in The National Gallery, but I’m pretty happy.”

“Do you have any interests like that?” I ask. “Or it’s all for work?”

Elliot shakes his head as he goes back to playing with the hair on my thigh. “No kinks for me. I like experimenting and trying new stuff, though. Why? Do you have any kinks?”

I’m surprised by the question, although I shouldn’t be. I just asked. “No. I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean, you don’t think so?”

I huff, embarrassed that I immediately started thinking about the sock thing. “I don’t have any kinks,” I explain. “There’s nothing special that I need to get off.”

Elliot’s eyes widen, and I can tell that he’s reading me like a book.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, too exhausted to keep a secret.

With the storm raging and our survival questionable, Elliot and I are already laid bare to each other here on the island.

No reason to act coy now. “It’s nothing.

But I’ve always thought socks are sexy. Clean socks!

” I quickly clarify. “Not dirty socks. That’s yuck.

Gross. But technically, I do think there’s something hot about a guy wearing nice clean socks. But not enough to call it a kink.”

“Give me enough time and new packs of Nike socks, I’m sure I could turn it into a fetish.”

I huff out a laugh. “I know that I’ve truly lost it, because I’ve never told anyone that in my life.”

Lightning crashes again.

“I’m glad you did. I think it’s hot that you think socks are hot.”

I grumble under my breath, but I appreciate it.

“I hope one day you find a boyfriend you can tell about your sock thing,” he adds.

“Yeah. I hope you find everything you want, Elliot. You need to survive this disaster, get home, and lead the full, I’m-sure-strange life you have ahead of you.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’d probably hate dating me,” he says. “I love to go out all night dancing with my friends, and I leave a makeup and outfit disaster in my wake when I’m rushing out the door.”

“I’d hardly care if you went dancing. The mess might be a challenge.”

“I bet you wouldn’t let me talk to you during movies.”

“Well, not in theaters.” I rub his arm. “We’re at different stages in our life. You need someone who will get into trouble with you.”

“I’m trying to get into less trouble, as a matter of fact,” Elliot says. He pushes a hand through his hair. “Good thing we don’t have to worry about any of that boring stuff here.”

“Just surviving the elements.”

“The simple life,” he jokes.

The storm picks up again, and we cuddle closer. The darkness stretches in every direction. Exhaustion settles back in as I gaze into the shadows. Naked and holding Elliot for warmth, I fall back into an unsettled sleep.