The Long Fall of Night: The Long Fall of Night Book 1 (47 page)

“Donnie,” he said between desperate kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Please, please do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, whatever it is that comes next.”

“There’s no script, Chris. What do you want?”

Chris knew instantly. A dick up his ass. He didn’t know how or why the act held his attention so raptly, but he needed to know, as scared as he was to let someone, even Donnie, inside him.

“Fuck… me.” He said the second word before he could chicken out.

“Do you have something?” Donnie rasped, his tongue working down Chris’s jaw and neck, sending ripples of pleasure straight down his spine.

“Shit, no,” he cursed. He hadn’t come to find his friend to do more than talk.

“I’m not spit-fucking you bare. Not for your first time.”

Chris was just afraid enough of butt sex not to argue, but apparently his disappointment was obvious enough in the dim night to embarrass him, because Donnie laughed.

Heat suffused Chris’s cheeks. “What?” he demanded, doing a push-up off the other man.

“The look on your face. You’ve only thought about that one thing the last few weeks, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Chris admitted. He didn’t know how to say he’d also pictured Donnie on his knees without sounding like a slutty porn star, so he stayed quiet. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this after all. Maybe he should have just stuck to girls and left what was in his head to jerk-off fantasies. He knelt up and started to slide off the rock, willing his hard-on to subside.

Donnie grabbed his wrist, halting his retreat. “Where are you going?”

“No… stuff,” he waved his hand while trying to inconspicuously press on his erection to ease it.

“Oh my god, Chris. I fucking hate you sometimes,” Donnie growled, pulling him back down for a fierce kiss.

“Huh?” Chris asked as soon as his mauled mouth was free to speak.

“There’s so much more to sex with two guys than anal. Do you know there are some guys who never stick their dicks in people, or have one stuck in them?”

Chris gaped. “That’s a
thing?
”

“Yeah,” Donnie laughed. “My god, you’re cute right now with your innocence.”

“Fuck off,” Chris growled, the words losing heat when Donnie started to work on the front of his pants.

“Just… let me, okay?”

Chris nodded, lifting himself to give Donnie more room to move. When their pants were open, Donnie drew their dicks out and wrapped one mammoth hand around both lengths, jerking them together.

“Different, yeah?” he rasped, watching Chris’s face morph from curious to pleasure-ridden in seconds.

Chris nodded, his nerves singing as he humped into Donnie’s hand. He wished it wasn’t so dark. He wanted to
see.
But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, wanted skin to skin, to feel the hair he knew was on Donnie’s chest against his nipples. Lowering his face, he rubbed his smooth cheek against Donnie’s rough one, reveling in the new sensations.

“Lie on your back,” Donnie whispered, flicking his ear with his tongue.

Chris complied and the sound of Velcro being separated was loud in the lakeshore quiet. Donnie pulled apart Chris’s BDU top and hiked up the tank beneath to pec level. Chris’s brain shorted out when Donnie dropped to his knees and closed his mouth over the head of Chris’s cock, one hand wrapped around the base and the other toying with Chris’s nipples. He squirmed and moaned, lifting his head to see. The silhouette of Donnie’s head bobbing over his lap had him close to coming in seconds, and it was obvious to him Donnie was no slouch with the cocksucking.

Is he going to want a blow job?
he thought, trying to focus on more than the gathering pressure in his balls.
Will I suck at giving a blow job?
His earlier anxiety rippled through him, and his climax receded as his brain veered off into nerve-wracking territory.

Donnie pushing his trousers down to the tops of his thighs got his attention, and when his fingers pushed into Chris’s mouth, he instinctively sucked them, running his tongue between them and making Donnie moan around his dick. The vibration jolted Chris’s pleasure up a few notches. He licked and kissed Donnie’s fingers, pretending it was Donnie’s dick and taking it for practice if he was going to reciprocate.

He wasn’t prepared for Donnie to take his hand away, part his cheeks, and ease one of his spit-slicked fingers into Chris’s asshole. Nearly jumping off the rock, Chris hollered at the intrusion, which was awkward and a little painful, but then Donnie lit him up from inside at the same time he took his cock all the way down. The feel of his nose against Chris’s pubic bone overwhelmed him with sensation very quickly, and he huffed a breath and could only watch, his knees falling as far apart as possible in his restrictive trousers.

The finger in his ass monopolized his focus, and he found himself squirming to hump it and fuck into Donnie’s mouth. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he ground his hips to a halt, but Donnie shook his head and pulled off his dick with a pop.

“You can fuck my mouth.” And he dived back down, unaware of what his words did to Chris. He withdrew his finger, and Chris whined a negative, but the stretch of two fingers had him throwing his head back and staring at the stars above him while stars inside him exploded. Instinct took over and he fucked himself into wet heat and onto the penetrating fingers, his world reduced to what was happening to his ass and cock and the man doing it to him.

He was so far gone, he couldn’t even warn against what was coming, and when Donnie moved the hand on his cock down to his balls and tugged on them, that was it. The grip was intense, but so was every sensation in his entire pelvic region. He came, and he came hard, with a shout that echoed in the lake basin and bounced to the peaks of the mountains. His hearing reduced to a whine as his blood rushed everywhere, and his muscles spasmed and released rhythmically, like a whole body orgasm.

As awareness returned, the sound of a hand on flesh reached him, and he saw Donnie over him, straddling his legs and beating off above his softening dick, making noises like he was close.

“Come on,” he urged. “Splatter me with it.”

“
Hnnngh
,” Donnie groaned and the warm spurts hit Chris’s skin and snagged in what little pubic hair he grew and along his limp dick. He reached down to smear it on himself, giving his oversensitive shaft an experimental tug. Another pulse hit the back of his wrist, and he suddenly had to taste it. Panting, Donnie watched him lift his hand to his mouth and lick, and the salty tang burst across his tongue. Donnie fell to his knees again and licked his own spunk from Chris.

“Oh my god,” he said incredulously, his prick giving an almighty twitch despite being thoroughly exhausted. “That’s so hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” Donnie agreed, breathing heavily.

They stared at each other for a long minute, and the shame Chris had expected to accompany his first experience with a guy never came. There was no regret, just an incredible surge of affection for the man in front of him. He sat up, feeling the chilly air for the first time since they’d sat on the rock, and pulled down his undershirt. Then he clenched his fist around the Velcro band on Donnie’s BDU top and yanked him forward.

“Is that how it is every time?” he asked, brushing his lips against Donnie’s.

“No,” Donnie answered, breathing hard into Chris’s mouth.

Chris’s asshole twitched with the ghost impressions Donnie’s fingers had left behind. He kissed Donnie hard, faint traces of come reaching his taste buds and nose, tanging the air between them. He wanted to find out what was different about this time, but he was afraid Donnie would say it wasn’t as good as it had been for Chris.

With that thought, his insecurity surged, and he slowed the kiss to a stop. No one had played his body like Donnie just had. No one had taken him from zero to holy-fucking-shit at such a breakneck speed. But he’d just lain there, let Donnie do all the work, and hadn’t given the man any reason to want a repeat.

Hell, if Chris were Donnie, he wouldn’t want a repeat either. No one wanted to fuck a limp noodle.

“We good now?” Donnie asked, searching Chris’s face.

There was the shame.

He only did that to shut me up, so we’d get it out of our systems and go back to the way things should be.

“Yeah, we’re good,” he whispered, not trusting his voice to remain steady and keep from betraying his thoughts.

Well, if he thinks once is enough, he’s out of his fucking mind. Next time, I’ll fuck him so stupid his only option is to want more. Like I do now.

Because the one thing Chris hated was being told he couldn’t have something.

C
ivilization is
like a thin layer of ice upon a deep ocean of chaos and darkness.

—Werner Herzog

T
HE DEEP NIGHT HELD
THE chirp of crickets, the chittering scurry of furry creatures, and the occasional hoot of an owl in search of dinner. Mist shrouded their footsteps where the cool ground battled the warm air. Elliot felt like he should be wearing a hooded cloak and carrying a scythe instead of a newly laden backpack and Ghost’s leash, attached to a new harness. Ghost looked ethereal in the moonlight.

He’d protested shackling the dog, but Ash suggested if the dog’s footing slipped in the mountains, an anchor of sorts wouldn’t be a bad idea. After all, they’d gotten climbing equipment for themselves. It only made sense. Elliot had joked that maybe he’d get a harness to carry Ghost on his chest like he would a baby.

Ash scared him by giving it serious thought.

Three human figures and one canine split the mist into swirls and eddies in their wake. Elliot, Ash, and Brian neared their campsite in Bamforth National Wildlife Refuge by the vague light of the Cheshire Cat-smile moon.

“I’m starving,” Charlotte said as they approached the small fire she and the others sat around. “What’d you get?” Alongside the coals rested two pots of water, ready to be boiled.

“Beef stew, spaghetti, Jamaican BBQ chicken, chili mac,” Brian sing-songed as he tossed a pouch to each person. “Teriyaki chicken and rice, shepherd’s pie, chicken and mashed potatoes, and for me, lasagna with meat sauce. Feel free to barter, trade, beg, plead, steal to your heart’s content.” He sat in front of the fire and hefted one of the pots to put it on the grate directly over the flames.

“Does this spaghetti have meatballs?” Riley asked skeptically. “They didn’t have any Spaghetti-Os?”

Elliot winked at him, taking up the other pot to help boil the water. “Don’t worry, kid. After this, we’ll do dessert.”

Riley immediately perked up. “Dessert?”

“Yep, freeze-dried apple cobbler and freeze-dried ice cream,” Ash said as if it were the most abhorrent thing he’d ever heard of.

Elliot, however, knew differently. Ash had taken way more time than normal to pick out things in forgotten storeroom of the camping store that had long ago been raided. They’d lucked out immensely in the quantity of food they’d been able to acquire from a box someone had clearly missed, and Ash had said over and over he wanted to take as much as possible in case they had unexpected trouble in the mountains. “We’re not going to be the next Donner Party,” he’d grumbled.

Elliot had to ask Brian what he’d meant by that, having never heard of the Donner Party. Brian had smiled but only just. “Group of pioneers going west got stuck for the winter in the mountains in Utah, I think it was. They had to eat each other to survive.”

Elliot was horror-stricken.

“Mom, I’m never complaining about your cooking again,” Riley said, sticking his tongue out to convey his disgust.

“I’m never eating fish again,” Elliot agreed.

They were all tired and hungry. The last few days had seen little in the way of game to trap, and they’d been down to sharing food pouches to the point where it was worrisome they’d run out.

When they’d crossed into Wyoming, Elliot had almost cried. He’d only known because Ash had shown him the border between states on the GPS screen as they’d crossed it. Elliot had whooped and kissed Ash for all he was worth. Luckily, Ash had come up laughing, the others joining in. All except Tim, who’d stared back the way they’d come.

Shortly after that, Elliot had had an absence seizure.

No one seemed to notice, and he didn’t call attention to it because they would only worry and try to move faster. He’d breathed deeply, concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, and kept himself away from Tim. Ghost had licked his hand, and he’d patted the dog’s head in reassurance. He was fine. They were so close now, a few days more and he’d be in proximity to a hospital. He could return to almost-business-as-usual.

Elliot shook himself. That was behind them now. They’d resupplied, gotten fresh equipment and hiking boots for everyone, and were well on their way to seeing the last of this hellish journey. He’d had no more absence seizures.

“A few more days,” he murmured. The others assented quietly, a peace coming over them they hadn’t known in weeks. “Tomorrow, the mountains, right?”

“Yep,” Ash said, wadding up his empty food pouch. He’d broken out the lemonade flavoring, and despite the unappetizing sound of dessert, the sweet smell of cinnamon apples permeated the air as the boiling water did its thing to reanimate it. Elliot found himself looking forward to the splurge they hadn’t allowed themselves at all on this trip, no matter how repulsive it sounded.

After dessert, everyone retired for the night, but though he was exhausted, Elliot couldn’t sleep. Beside him, Ash breathed deeply, his hair a mess over his forehead. Ghost chuffed in his corner of the tent. Since the night of the storm, they’d decided if the dog wanted to sleep closer, he could. What was a little more cuddling to make room for another warm body anyway?

Something outside made soft, rhythmic noises, and Elliot strained to hear in case some woodland creature decided to surprise them. But the sound accompanied a groan and a murmured name in a woman’s voice. Elliot smiled in the darkness. Apparently the peace was enough to relax everyone, and in particular, Aaron and Jennifer. He tuned them out as best he could, rolling to his side to study Ash’s face.

I should tell him,
he thought, resisting tracing the straight line of Ash’s nose or brushing his hair back. Ash was a fairly light sleeper, and he needed the rest. A touch was guaranteed to disturb him. Elliot’s thoughts wandered to making plans for after they got to Seattle. He imagined Uncle Marvin living on a secluded piece of land overlooking water, and let his mind meander to hunting with Ash and picturing sunrises and sunsets, peace and nature, and no power worries. He’d wanted Ash to prefer he stay for reasons besides Elliot wanting to, but why would he, if Elliot had held himself in reserve the entire time? Yeah, they’d fucked, and they had great chemistry, and they were affectionate when no one was looking, but how was that much different than when they’d been at school?

He’s not going out on a limb if I don’t, too.
As far as Ash knew, Elliot was simply doing what Ash was—enjoying his company and taking comfort from human contact. Yeah, Ash liked him, and he’d said so. But the reality was Elliot had fallen and fallen hard for Asher Caine, and it was about fucking time Ash knew it.

Even if it burdens him because of my seizures. I have nothing to lose.
Though he knew that wasn’t true. If he spoke up and Ash couldn’t handle it, Elliot would lose someone who’d become a lifeline. Still, his resolve deepened even as sleep began to steal over him.

In the morning, with the sky only just pinking up, the group had woken more enthusiastic than usual, as though the energy they’d need to cross the mountains had been supplied by little gnomes in the night. Elliot honestly thought it was the relief that the end was in sight. They chattered as they broke down camp, and even Riley was laughing.

“Charlotte, your son is going to have a hell of a tale to tell his kids,” Elliot said, stuffing his sleeping bag in its nylon casing.

“Don’t I know it? When it’s time to teach him to drive, he’s going to say, ‘Mom, I handled Nebraska. I can do anything.’” She chuckled and ruffled Riley’s hair. “Yes you did, kid. And I’m proud of you.”

“Hey, thanks for getting that bottle of Tums for Jenn in Laramie,” Aaron put in. “She swears this baby is lying in magma, not amniotic fluid.”

“Okay, gross,” Ash said. “But you’re welcome. No need to suffer unnecessarily.”

“I feel lots better,” Jenn agreed.

Elliot couldn’t suppress a secret smile.
Yes you do, sweetheart.

They were gonna make it. He could feel it, and the day proved him right as they passed uneventfully into Medicine Bow National Forest. They planned to go south of Rock Creek Ridge until they reached Sand Lake, then northwest out of the forest and into the flattest area of Wyoming, from what they could tell on the map. Ash had debated getting off Uncle Marvin’s coordinates again, because the map showed flatter land elsewhere, but the group had vetoed that idea. Last time they’d strayed, they’d lost a man.

In early evening, they found a small clearing beside a creek right after crossing Highway 101 and decided to call it good. Though they hadn’t traveled as far as a regular day, the increasing elevation wore them out, and Elliot groaned when he sat down on a fallen tree.

Over a dinner of rabbit stewed in a vegetable broth Charlotte had made with their newly acquired provisions, mushrooms, and a few berries picked along the way, they planned the next day.

“I don’t want to rush,” Ash said. “If we do, someone’s more liable to get hurt in the mountains, so I say tomorrow, we sleep in if we want. Maybe we can get our hunting done early. We’re going to need more stealth the farther west we go. We don’t know where the border between power and no power is, and I guarantee you, someone’s watching that line.”

“You’re probably right,” Aaron agreed. “If we can shoot a deer and spend tomorrow curing meat, we’ll be able to ration our emergency stash of food pouches so when we get to higher elevations, we can concentrate on moving forward. And before we separate once we reach power,” he began, “I want you, Riley, to teach me how to set those snares you’ve gotten so good at. Cool?”

“Cool,” Riley said with a nod.

“We should probably wash our clothes, too,” Charlotte said. “Now that we have new ones to put on, the old ones could stand a good cleaning.”

Jennifer sniffed her shoulder. “Or a good burning.”

They finished dinner and cleanup, and Riley instructed Jennifer and Aaron, and a somewhat less interested Tim, how to set up the snares he’d perfected while they still had sunlight to see by. Aaron clapped him on the shoulder when he released them to practice on their own.

“Hey, I have a question,” Tim asked. “How much weight does this snare wire hold?”

Riley furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. It’s good enough for rabbits and squirrels.”

“So you haven’t caught anything bigger, like a fox or coyote?” He pointed to Ghost, who was lounging in the shade away from the warmth of the fire. “Like the dog’s size?”

Elliot stiffened, and Riley looked at the dog uncertainly. “No, I haven’t. I guess they’re not interested in the bait.”

“I bet if we use a piece of meat, we could get something bigger,” Tim said. “Is there any rabbit left over?”

“We ate it all,” Elliot answered, trying to keep his tone light. But he didn’t like the way Tim had pointed at Ghost.

“That’s a shame. Is anyone else sick of the same kinds of meat over and over?”

Aaron shrugged. “Back home, we’d eat beef, pork, and chicken pretty regularly. That’s the same kind of meat over and over, and I don’t remember getting all that tired of it.”

“I guess. When we get to a place with power, I’m going to park myself at a restaurant, if there are any open, and eat nothing but nachos and grilled cheese and cake and all the things I’ve missed out here. I want a steak. Maybe a burrito. Oh my god, Mexican food.”

Elliot let himself laugh. It was the first they’d heard Tim talk about doing anything in his future that didn’t entail getting back to Nebraska to carry out some elaborate revenge plot on the psycho landowner. Frankly, it was nice to hear.

“Pizza,” he offered.

Tim groaned and closed his eyes.

“Donuts,” Riley chimed in, forgetting what had started the conversation.

“Anything chocolate,” Charlotte grumbled. “Hey, why don’t you all gather your clothes for me to wash, and I’ll make a morning of it.”

They split off to their own tasks and tents, and as Elliot passed as close to Tim as he’d done in days, he tentatively put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’ll be okay,” he assured him. Tim looked at him with inscrutable eyes and after a pause, nodded. But he didn’t sneer, and he didn’t smack Elliot’s hand away, so it was a win. Maybe the mountains were good even for Tim. It was hard to see anything but beauty in their surroundings.

Their forty-seventh day dawned with a chorus of birds chirping and the sounds of Riley’s laughter. Elliot made quick work of brushing his teeth. Ash emerged from the tent in a t-shirt and fresh jeans, new hiking boots on his feet. He studied them, then peered at Elliot from under his brow. He was so boyish and handsome in that moment, with the early morning sun dappling his hair, Elliot had to resist the urge to kiss him silly.

“Nothing like a new pair of shoes.” Ash strode over to where Elliot sat on the fallen tree, cleaning one of the rifles. “You take a look at that yet?” He pointed to the bow and arrows he’d acquired from the camp store in Laramie.

“No,” Elliot said. “I didn’t want to start the day off shooting myself in the foot.”

“It’ll be quieter than the guns. Maybe we can get a deer without scaring the rest of the animals off.” He lifted the contraption and tested the tension, closing one eye and aiming without an arrow nocked on the string.

“I’d probably just hurt myself, snap the string on my face or something. Plus, I’d have to take off my glasses.”

“Yeah, you should stick with what you know. We can practice at Uncle Marvin’s.” Ash lowered himself to the log and held out his hands so Elliot could lay pieces of the unassembled gun in them. This was routine, something they’d done together dozens of times, and they fell into companionable silence. Aaron, Jennifer, and Tim crawled free of their tents and stretched.

“Well rested?” Ash asked. “You could have slept longer. It’s not even eight yet.”

“Something about the crisp air makes it hard to sleep in,” Jennifer answered. “I’d feel too lazy.”

“I’m not a fan of lounging in that tent,” Tim grumbled, hauling himself off to the trees, presumably to handle his bladder.