Polar Reaction (3 page)

Chapter Three

Tuck opened his eyes and closed his mouth. He lifted his head, which had been lolling uncomfortably against his neck. Disoriented, he looked down to see Jamie asleep, his head resting on Tuck’s outstretched legs. Brendan was nowhere to be seen.

They’d made themselves some lunch—several cans of beef vegetable soup and some crackers, plus the remains of the spaghetti from the night before. Along with the meal, they’d all had quite a bit to drink, especially Jamie, who was still out like a light.

Tuck didn’t remember falling asleep. He did remember their conversation, which started out soberly discussing what they would need to do in order to ride out the storm. They agreed to shut down the labs and storage rooms completely to conserve fuel. Limited washing up, so as not to tax the hot water heater, and limited cooking to conserve the propane. Luckily they had several boxes of hot and cold cereal, energy bars, peanut butter, crackers and canned soups and vegetables, as well as about thirty gallons of purified water in the pantry. Once the storm abated, they would try to get outside, clear away some of the snow and check out the satellite dish.

When the meal was over, bottle in hand, they’d moved to the sleeping quarters to relax. Jamie had joined Tuck on the couch. Brendan sat on the cot next to it, eventually stretching out, his arms behind his head, the bottle of scotch on the floor beside him.

As they continued to talk and drink, it seemed to Tuck that Brendan was avoiding his eye, mostly staring at the ceiling. Tuck was dying to know exactly what Brendan had witnessed between Jamie and himself. Was he avoiding Tuck’s eye because he disapproved? Or was there something else at play?

Tuck still wasn’t quite sure what had gone on himself. His initial intention had been to calm the obviously anxious Jamie. It was also a diversion to focus on Jamie’s knotted muscles. Tuck had always enjoyed giving massages, deriving satisfaction as tight muscles responded to his skilled touch, easing and untwisting beneath his fingers.

So caught up with his research and his obsession with Brendan, he’d never really paid much attention to Jamie before, at least not sexually. They’d known each other from the institute back home, but only professionally. Jamie had only been there a year and kept pretty much to himself. During these past weeks in Antarctica, they had a cordial, positive relationship in the lab, but had had little personal interaction.

At first he was unprepared for the strong sexual reaction he experienced once he touched Jamie’s firmly muscled back and neck, but in retrospect he shouldn’t have been. Jamie was, after all, extremely good looking. He was funny and smart, though a little younger than Tuck was used to considering as potential partner material.

Even back in Monterey he’d suspected Jamie might be gay, and the massage had done nothing to dispel this feeling. A straight guy wouldn’t have let Tuck touch him the way he had, slipping his hands beneath Jamie’s shirt and most especially, lying over him, allowing Jamie to feel the bulge of his erection. How far would it have gone if Brendan hadn’t chosen that moment to poke his head around the door?

He smiled down at the sleeping Jamie. With a light touch, he pushed Jamie’s flopping bangs from his face, though they promptly fell back again. Jamie was seven years younger than Tuck’s thirty-two, and in repose he appeared even younger. Did he have someone at home worrying about him now? His parents, a roommate, a lover?

Jamie stirred, turning his head so his nose rested on Tuck’s fly. Tuck’s cock rose in response, like Pavlov’s dog hearing the bell. Embarrassed, even though Jamie was ostensibly still sleeping, Tuck moved away, letting Jamie’s head fall to the mattress.

Jamie opened his eyes and lifted his head, unfocused blue eyes coming to rest on Tuck’s face. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he stretched his arms overhead and yawned. “Man, I fell asleep.”

“Me too.” Tuck surreptitiously admired the other man’s broad chest. “Guess we’re not used to drinking half a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the day.”

“I guess not.” Jamie smiled. His eyes were almond-shaped and slightly slanted beneath prominent cheekbones, lending him an exotic appearance. His mouth was sensuous, the lips plump and inviting.

Jamie eyed Tuck with a quizzical expression. Without speaking, he touched Tuck’s thigh with three fingers. Tuck looked at his hand and back up into Jamie’s face. There was a question in Jamie’s eyes, mixed with the unmistakable smolder of desire.

Jamie leaned forward, his eyes still locked on Tuck’s. Tuck found himself drawn toward Jamie by a powerful force. They moved in slow motion until their lips were touching.

Jamie’s hand still rested on Tuck’s thigh. For several seconds they remained still, lips pressed together, hearts beating. A part of Tuck didn’t believe it was happening. He was drunk and dreaming. He would wake in a minute, alone on his cot as usual.

Jamie parted his lips, his tongue licking along Tuck’s mouth, nudging until Tuck let it gain entrance. Tentatively Tuck explored his mouth in return. Jamie tasted faintly of whiskey and peppermint. Jamie clutched at Tuck’s thigh and placed his other hand on the back of Tuck’s neck.

Tuck’s eyes were open, focused on the door that led to the kitchen. He could hear the faint tap-tapping of Brendan’s fingers on his keyboard. What would Brendan think if he walked into the room? Did it matter? Brendan was straight. He’d made his interest, or rather lack thereof, pretty clear since the one, sexually charged interaction the year before.

And here was Jamie, handsome, sexy and obviously interested. It was a relief to have something to distract himself from the constant underlying anxiety caused by their being stranded and without communication with the outside world.

Abandoning himself to the moment, he responded ardently to Jamie’s kiss, pulling him close and running his hands over Jamie’s back and shoulders as their tongues collided. Jamie drew back long enough to grip Tuck’s shoulders and push him down against the sofa.

Clambering over him, Jamie again sought his mouth, catching Tuck’s lower lip between his teeth. Tuck could feel Jamie’s erection, hard as steel against him. Tuck’s balls were tight with need, the desire he’d been harboring so long for Brendan transferring itself to the hard-bodied man lying on top of him.

He brought his arms around Jamie and slipped his hands into Jamie’s jeans, pushing past the elastic of his underwear to cup the muscular globes of his ass. Jamie shuddered and moaned.

“Jesus,” Jamie hissed, drawing out the second syllable in a sibilant breath. He buried his head between Tuck’s head and shoulder. Tuck could feel Jamie’s heart beating violently. He could feel Jamie’s tongue, wet and warm against his neck, his cock thrusting and grinding against Tuck’s hipbone.

Jamie’s breath quickened to a rapid pant, his body suddenly spasming on top of Tuck’s. Jamie emitted a small, guttural cry. There were too many layers of clothing between them for him to feel the spurt, but he knew from Jamie’s limp, heavy weight upon him that Jamie had come in his pants.

Tuck’s cock still throbbed, trapped in his clothing, pinned under Jamie’s strong body. He held onto Jamie like a lifeline, confusion rising beneath the lingering lust. What was he doing, seducing this sweet, sexy young guy with Brendan in the next room? Was this new attraction purely a result of the dire straits in which they found themselves?

Or was Tuck now falling for not one guy but two?

“Fuck.” Jamie rolled from the cot to the floor. “I didn’t mean to—” His face twisted into a sheepish grin. “You’re just so damn hot, and it’s been so long…” Jamie looked from Tuck to the closed kitchen door and back again. “Listen, let me return the favor.”

“No, we’re cool.” In fact, Tuck felt anything but cool. He, too, looked toward the kitchen, straining to hear the sound of the keyboard on the other side of the door. Not that they’d done anything wrong, but he really didn’t need Brendan walking in on them again.

He glanced at Jamie, still sprawled on the floor beside the cot. “Maybe you want to, uh, clean up a little.” He gestured with his chin toward Jamie’s crotch, where a small stain was spreading along the fly.

Flushing, Jamie jumped up and headed toward his own cot. Grabbing some clothing from the trunk at the end of it, he went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Tuck put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His own cock was still hard as iron but he found himself too distracted to do anything about it. His mind was jumping from Jamie to Brendan like oil sizzling in a pan. What the hell had just happened? What did he think he was doing?

I haven’t the slightest fucking idea
, he answered himself.

~ * ~

Earlier, Brendan had awoken before the other two, alone on the cot. For a long moment he’d looked at the two sleeping men, Tucker slumped uncomfortably against the sofa back, Jamie’s head on his lap like a child.

He had wanted to push Jamie away. To lay Tuck down and put a pillow beneath his head. He wanted to lie beside him and sleep—just sleep, neither of them stirring until the storm had ended and rescuers were on their way.

Brendan’s head hurt, his mouth tasted sour and his bladder was full. He hauled himself up from the cot and went into the bathroom to relieve himself.

When he returned to the sleeping quarters, neither man had moved, both still caught in the net of an alcohol-induced stupor. Brendan, though shorter and slighter than either of them, obviously could hold his liquor better. This thought amused him and at the same time made him feel old. Not that he was much older than Tuck. Yet sometimes Brendan felt like an old man already—set in his ways, a lonely guy who never took risks. At least not risks of the heart.

With a sigh, he left the two sleeping beauties and sat in the kitchen to work on some reports. He closed the door between the two rooms so his typing wouldn’t disturb them, realizing belatedly that this was rather silly, as the wind still whined and moaned outside, coupled with the sound of hail tapping insistently on the roof and buffeting the walls.

He’d actually managed to distract himself with his work, even forgetting for stretches at a time where they were and what was happening outside their snug abode. After a while he’d heard Tuck and Jamie stirring and talking quietly. He expected them to poke their heads into the kitchen. When that didn’t happen right away, he forced himself to continue with his work.

In time he did become involved again in what he was doing. When he finished a thought, he realized the murmuring had stopped. The silence made him wonder if they’d fallen back asleep.

He stood and moved toward the door that separated them. He turned the knob, opening the door only a few inches when he heard them—the sound of the sofa springs creaking, a muffled moan, rapid breathing and then a small, animal cry of lust.

He felt in his bones what he was hearing even before his brain caught up. Feeling as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, he jerked the door shut and sagged heavily against it, his heart hammering painfully.

He wasn’t sure how long he leaned there, his mind blank, his heart thudding. All he knew was he felt more alone than at any other time in his life.

After a minute, an hour, a lifetime, he heard the sound of Tuck’s open, sunny laugh and was seized with an overwhelming desire to see Tuck, even if he were naked in Jamie’s arms. Without giving himself a chance to fully consider what he was doing, he pushed the door open. To his immense relief, he saw Tuck was alone.

At the sound of the opening door, Tuck looked up to see Brendan leaning against the doorframe. “Tuck. We have to talk.”

Any number of scenarios passed through Tuck’s mind, running the gamut from het outrage to the admission of secret love and jealous longing. Brendan remained in the door so Tuck stood, glad his lingering erection was hidden beneath his flannel shirt. He moved to follow Brendan into the kitchen, Jamie all but forgotten.

Sitting caddy-corner from Brendan at the head of the long table, he waited for whatever it was Brendan had to say. Beside Brendan’s laptop was the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a small juice glass.

“May I?”

Brendan nodded, pushing the bottle toward him. “I’ll join you.” He went to the cabinet and returned a moment later with a second glass. Tuck poured a few fingers for each of them, lifted his own and drank it in a single burning gulp.

Brendan sipped his and set it back on the table. “I’ve checked the supply logs.” His tone was brisk and businesslike. Was it only Tuck’s imagination, or did something more urgent lurk just beneath it? “I did a few calculations, based on our discussion about shutting down the labs and supplying heat and electricity only to the living quarters. If we set the temperature at sixty, limit the use of the propane stove and keep water usage to a minimum, we can easily survive for two to three weeks. We have enough food and water for longer than that.”

Thoughts of any amorous admission on Brendan’s part rapidly receded in the face of his words. “Two to three
weeks
. Do you really think this storm’s going to last that long?”

“No. I hope not. The only thing that worries me”—Brendan lowered his voice, glancing toward the sleeping quarters—“is how close we are to the winter season. If the winds keep up, it won’t be safe to land a plane. There’s a possibility, though an unlikely one, that we could be stuck here through the winter. But even if that did happen, they’d more than likely be able to parachute supplies to us. We aren’t going to starve. We aren’t going to die. We just have to conserve energy and supplies and be sensible.”

Tuck swallowed, absorbing the possibility of spending the winter stranded in an Antarctic wasteland, with only wood, steel and insulated fabric between them and the harsh elements. He knew the
temperature outside could drop as low as -50°C, the blizzards reducing the visibility to just a few meters, with the added specter of twenty-four-hour darkness for one hundred and five days when the sun dipped permanently below the horizon.