The Spur of the Platypus (4 page)

Okay, so the platypuses were really growing on him. He tried not to like them but couldn’t seem to help himself. They had been traveling all day, and Prescott had endured cheesy songs with the most laidback group of venom. The ants and bees were so different. They were tense, while every single one of these venom were loose. Oh sure, they had weapons on them, but they were using them to cut fruit, and hell, one guy was picking his teeth clean with the edge of a knife.

Prescott shook his head. Unfuckingbelievable and refreshing.

“You’ll get used to them, and heck, you only have half of us to deal with.” Flex appeared to be enjoying this a tad too much.

Prescott was on edge, constantly looking around for venom or Pacific allies on the attack, and these guys were picking up stones and tossing them into the ocean as if they were on a nice little walk instead of walking into a potential war zone. If he hadn’t seen how they’d acted last week during the fight or how they skillfully
played
with their weapons, Prescott might have wondered if they even knew how to fight. Shit, there was even one juggling his daggers.

Did these guys not have a care in the world? They were all so different...well from everyone Prescott had been around. Why weren’t they hardened by this world? And would it ever be possible for him to feel even a smidgen of this lighthearted attitude?

They were about a quarter mile away from their destination when Flex stopped him, massaging a shoulder. “You’re too tense.”

“Well, live twenty-three years being hunted and it’ll make you a guy who constantly looks over his shoulder.”

“Come on.” Flex grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Where?” They were heading toward the ocean.

“When I’m stressed, I like to go for a swim.” Flex grinned at him, and for a moment, Prescott was totally lost. He stood, wondering if they could actually make this work. Nature put them together, but hell, if they weren’t complete opposites.

Prescott shook out of his thoughts and shot back, “You’ve been stressed?”

“Well, not really.” Flex laughed.

“But...” Prescott began to ask how in the hell anyone could live in this shitty part of the world and not be worried or stressed.

“Look, some people just handle the bumps in the road differently. I like to live and not worry, so I do. I handle confrontation when it comes, but I’m not going to look for it constantly and lose time worrying.” Flex grabbed the hem of Prescott’s shirt and lifted it over his head.

Prescott waited for Flex to say something. He knew he was pretty average, and what little muscle he had, he had gained from hard living and fighting. Several scars marred his flesh, and the fuck if he could remember where they all came from. There were just too many and that many times he managed just to scrape by with his very life.

Prescott glanced down as Flex skimmed his hand along a new scar that was still pink and puckered from his fight just a few days ago. Prescott tensed and raised his eyes to meet Flex’s.

Flex was watching where he was softly tracing the scars and then skimmed another and another.

“Not what you were expecting?” Prescott asked.

“It is, but being able to see the trials of your past is an entirely different thing.” Flex raised his hand and cupped the back of Prescott’s head, focusing on his eyes.

Prescott tensed and tried to reach for his shirt in Flex’s other hand. Flex whipped his hand away.

“Give me my shirt.” Prescott ground his teeth.

“No,” Flex hid the damn thing behind his back. “I don’t think anything less of you. God, looking at you...I thank my fucking lucky stars you walked on to my beach. That you were strong enough to survive.”

Prescott glared at him. “Sure.” He wasn’t going to even talk about his body and the hard life he lived with Flex.

“It doesn’t detract from your looks, trust me.”

Prescott snorted. He knew he was a mess, but he wasn’t going to say anything. There was no point.

“It’s just a wakeup call that I’m going to have to let you fight with me. You’ve been standing on your own two feet for too long for me to walk into your life and tell you to sit back now that I come in. It would be wrong to do that to you. I’m sorry I held you back from the fight in Mission, but I can’t thank you enough for saving Weeds.” Flex stared at him. All the teasing was gone out of his blue eyes, and all that was left was cold, hard truth. For the first time, Flex was seeing him as, well...Prescott.

“Weeds told you?” Prescott murmured.

“He did.” Flex brushed a stray hair off his forehead.

It felt so good to be touched this way. Prescott shivered, and it had nothing to do with the ocean breeze.

“How about that swim? Hmm?” Flex drew closer, their lips just inches apart.

Noise and laughter by the ocean had Prescott turning his head, breaking the moment. The platypuses were already diving into the waves. Prescott smiled as Weeds was shoved under the waves by another platypus.

“Come on, time to go and relax.” Flex tugged on Prescott’s hand as he guided him to the edge of the waters.

Prescott didn’t resist this time. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Flex broke into a run and cut through the water before diving into one of the waves. It was seamless and beautiful. Prescott toed off his shoes by the water. He dropped a couple weapons on the beach but kept one knife strapped to his thigh and one on his forearm. Then, he proceeded to walk his way into the water with just his shorts on. It was a hot day, and there was no better way to cool off than to taking a swim in the ocean.

Prescott and his friends had done this before, but none of it had been as carefree. It was used to cool them off or bathe in a pinch when they were in hiding.

Prescott took a deep breath, pulling himself away from memories and into the present. He wanted to be here and whole with Flex now.

Slowly, Prescott drew deeper in the water until the waves kicked up to his stomach and then his chest before he sank down and began gliding through the water. The other guys were having a blast, but at the moment, Prescott felt completely content. Flex was right, the water was washing away the hard traveling, the overthinking, and in its place was a calm he hadn’t experienced before. He felt almost safe, and it had everything to do with Flex.

Flex made his way over to him with a smile on his face. “The ocean has a way of washing away even the shittiest of days.”

Prescott nodded. “True.”

Flex pulled at one of his outstretched hands. “Come here.”

Prescott floated over to Flex, now that they were far enough in the ocean that there was no break of waves in the water. Flex pulled Prescott in tight. He was surrounded by Flex’s warmth, and for a moment, Flex was right. He wasn’t thinking about anything but the two of them bobbing in the waters.

Prescott stared at Flex’s wet lips, craving a taste. Just this once, could he let go? Reach out for something that he wanted for only him?

Instead, Flex made the decision for him, bringing their lips together. God, it felt good, and Flex tasted divine—a hint of salt and sunshine. There was no other way to describe it. Flex took over completely and deepened the kiss, and if Flex hadn’t been holding him up, Prescott would have sunk beneath the waters.

His body grew heated in the cold water. They molded against one another. Prescott wrapped his arms around Flex, wishing they were on the beach where they could take this farther. Audience be damned. It was like a floodgate had opened inside Prescott. Flex took over, completely grabbing a hold of Prescott’s legs and wrapping them around Flex. Thank god the platypus was a strong swimmer, or they would have sunk for sure. Pressed this close, he could feel Flex’s erection gliding against his own, causing him to moan into the kiss.

It was such a fucking tease. Their cocks softly working against one another, but the water was making it impossible for them to gain more friction.

“Beach,” Prescott gasped into the kiss.

Flex moaned as he tried to thrust against Prescott. “Audience.”

“Don’t care.” Prescott bit at Flex’s lower lip.

“Don’t care?” Flex pulled away, brow raised.

“We’ll find a place.”

Flex chuckled and leaned in to kiss again. “I’m all for that.”

Prescott unwrapped his legs from around Flex’s waist and allowed them to float out behind him. His leg brushed against something. White-hot pain entered his leg as he stared down.

Floating all around him was venom with tentacles floating off them in the water. They were eerie as fuck as they surrounded them. Some had transparent skin, while others had human flesh with tentacles hanging off of them at various spots on their body. Several had this blue tinged, pink protrusion coming out of their back, and for a moment, Prescott thought it might be a fin until he saw others having the same protrusion coming from the top of their head. It was creepy and sent a shiver down his spine. A venom woman swam past Prescott, her head full of tentacles instead of hair. What the hell were they? Jellyfish?

Flex screamed next to him as another venom brushed by them.

Then, chaos ensued in the water as several platypuses started shouting and fighting. Splashes surrounded him, and it was hard for Prescott to see the enemy beneath the surface.

Prescott pulled his knife from his forearm sleeve, “Jellyfish?”

“Man O’ Wars!” Flex shouted as he punched one, trying to carefully avoid the tentacles but unable to. Flex screamed out in agony.

Prescott stabbed one, but another brushed against him. Fuck, the pain was so intense as he gritted his teeth, feeling his body beginning to react to the venom.

Another brushed against him, and he could no longer contain the pain as he released a cry of suffering. Staring into the choppy water, all Prescott could see was a sea of tentacles. There was no way to escape.

Flex wasn’t going to go out like this. As another man o’ war stung him on the leg, all he could think about was how the hell he was going to get him, Prescott and the other platypuses out of this alive.

Protecting his mate came front and center as he kicked out and nailed a venom with his spur. The guy seemed okay for a moment before the man yelled out in distress and swam away.

He’d only ever saw one when he was younger. The guy washed up on the beach and attacked. Flex’s father had ended the guy, but Flex remembered just what the guy looked like and what his father had told him. The pneumatophore or the sail is what distinguishes them from jellyfish. Well, several of these assholes had the tinged blue and pink sail. They looked like damn shark fins on most of the guys. Fuck.

They were so close to Mission Territory. Could anyone hear them, though? Would they even get to them in time? Why the hell did he think they could possibly be safe this close to a war zone? Why the ocean when no one ever attacked in the waters? The ocean had always been there safe zone. They place they hid from the enemy.

All these questions raced through Flex’s mind as he fought with everything he had. He swung his arm around and struck a man o’ war in the face as he kicked out to hit another in the stomach. He hit another with his spur praying the venom would inject and take out his enemy. But the tentacles kept connecting with various parts of his body. The pain grew unbearable.

“Prescott!” Flex screamed.

Flex reached out and grabbed ahold of Prescott, who was gasping and fighting with his knife. Prescott was no match for them, especially in the water.

Another sting and Flex’s body began to seize up. His arms would no longer cooperate, and he felt the ocean begin to pull him under. Prescott slipped from his fingers as they both sank beneath the surface.

Venom after venom swam past them, brushing their deadly tentacles against him. They were going to drown, and being able to hold his breath longer, Flex was going to have to watch Prescott die before his very eyes.

Seconds ticked as Flex struggled, precious bubbles of air escaping his mouth as Flex fought to reach out to Prescott, to save him.

A man o’ war next to him was there one moment and the next gone.
What the...

More and more man o’ wars were disappearing, something pulling them deeper into the ocean, quicker than Flex could see. Who was helping them? Then, he saw who it was when one swam past.

He wasn’t sure what type of venom it was. He appeared completely human except for the blue coloring on one side of his body, while the other side was silver and black striped. He’d never seen this venom before.

Skilled fighters in the water, the man o’ wars were quickly outnumbered and killed in mere seconds. Most just used a knife to slice their necks. They didn’t even seem affected by the tentacles that were connecting with their bodies.

They were graceful swimmers as one pulled Prescott up to the surface and another grabbed a hold of him and pulled. They broke the surface, and clean, fresh air hit Flex’s face. He gasped and sucked in a lungful, trying to see where Prescott was.

The guy pulled Flex until the water was shallow enough in the surf to pick him up. Other platypuses were being carried out of the water, the men running toward the beach. Flex lost sight of Prescott and began to panic. They had been under too long.
Did Prescott make it?

His back hit the sand, and the man peered down at him. His face had a bluish tint to it as he leaned down and began sucking at his stings. Flex jumped as the man’s lips made contact with a particular nasty sting on his leg. If he could have jerked away, he would’ve, but his limbs were nonfunctioning.

Flex’s head drooped to the side, and he saw other platypuses having their wounds sucked on, all lying on the beach in the same manner. Flex felt the pain lessen, and he sought out Prescott, finally spotting a crowd of men surrounding one individual.

Prescott lay prone on the beach as one guy leaned over him and began doing mouth to mouth. Flex screamed and rolled over clumsily, crawling to Prescott, limbs failing him. Twice his face hit the sand as he desperately tried to get to his mate.