Frost

by Isabelle Adler

  “That was so good.”

  Spencer grunted in agreement, stroking Finn’s hair. His touch was gentle, almost soothing.

  Finn’s heart swelled. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for Spencer to feel the same kind of bliss. He extracted himself and reached for Spencer’s utility belt.

  “You don’t have to—” Spencer began, but Finn was having none of that nonsense. He pushed Spencer down so he was half lying on the floor, his back propped against the sagging couch. His erection strained against the fabric of his fleece-lined pants and popped right into Finn’s hand when he released it.

  Finn wasted no time taking it into his mouth, encouraged by Spencer’s sharp intake of breath and the way his fingers tightened in Finn’s hair. Spencer’s cock was bigger than he imagined, and he struggled to fit it into his mouth, but he hoped his enthusiasm would make up for any awkwardness. He’d never been so eager to suck someone, not even in his previous life, but hearing the sounds Spencer made when Finn applied his lips and tongue to the task was the sweetest reward.

  Spencer’s muscles went rigid, and Finn coaxed his climax nearer, dragging his tongue on the underside of his cock all the way to the tip, eliciting a hiss from Spencer, and then bore down on him again with renewed effort. Spencer grunted and threw his head back, thumping it against the couch seat, as warm jets hit the back of Finn’s throat. He almost choked, but took it all in, swallowing rapidly around Spencer’s softening cock.

  Spencer tugged him gently upward and claimed his lips in a kiss. It was sweet, almost indulgent, the traces of the taste of each other mingling in their mouths. When it was over, Finn withdrew slightly, looking into Spencer’s half-hooded eyes.

  He would have liked to stay longer. To delight in each other’s touch—to let contentment envelop them in a warm cocoon. But it was a luxury they couldn’t yet afford. With the burn of passion abating, the cold made itself known again, and they couldn’t linger. Especially not when Siobhan was waiting for them in that broken-down basement.

  “We should go.” Finn forced himself up and adjusted his clothes. After a long moment, Spencer followed suit.

  THE WIND WAS starting to pick up as they made their way back into the basement, so much that they had to cover their faces against the biting gusts.

  “We’re home!” Finn called before stepping inside, not wanting to alarm Siobhan. To his relief, she was fine, busying herself in the meantime with fixing a broken handle on one of the empty water buckets.

  Finn was glad to see her up and about, even if he didn’t like the idea of her exerting herself so soon. Perhaps they shouldn’t have stayed away so long, he thought with a pang of embarrassed guilt.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling his gloves off. Coming up behind him, Spencer did the same before trying to right his wind-tousled hair.

  “Pretty good.” Siobhan put away the mended bucket. “Can’t wait to get out of here, to be honest. It stinks in here, and it’s always pitch dark.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be able to move soon,” Finn assured her, picking up the bucket. “I’ll go fetch some water while I’m already dressed to go out.”

  “Let me.” Spencer took the bucket from his hand. His fingers brushed Finn’s on the handle, and a spark passed between them. Finn smiled as he watched Spencer climb up the stairs and go outside, heaving the door closed once again after him.

  “Finn? You’ve got this weird look—oh my god, you got laid, didn’t you?” Siobhan exclaimed accusingly.

  “I did not get laid.” Finn turned around quickly, feeling his ears burning. “Technically speaking.”

  “But something did happen?” Siobhan held up a hand when he started to speak. “No, spare me the details. I don’t want to know. But I’m happy for you.” She smiled. “I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other.”

  “You have?” This particular slip aside, Finn thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding his growing attraction, and up until the moment Spencer’s lips touched his own, he wasn’t sure it’d be reciprocated.

  “Please.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I was passed out half of the time, but even so, I couldn’t not notice. Anyway, Spencer’s definitely a keeper. And he’s cute. So don’t mess this up, Finn.”

  “Why would I mess it up?”

  Her gaze became serious, almost sad. “Because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. And you do. Everybody does. I can see Spencer’s a good man, and he cares about you. He wouldn’t have hung around here otherwise.”

  Finn stared at the fire, watching the flames dance but not really seeing them. His sister was right. He didn’t really believe he deserved to be happy, not when their family and friends were dead, and they were barely better off. But could she be right about the rest of it?

  Spencer’s return stirred him out of his thoughts. Finn avoided looking at him as he helped Siobhan with their dinner. But as much as he tried to focus on other things and clear his thoughts, her words still cast a shadow over him in a way he wasn’t quite ready to deal with.

  Judging by Spencer’s subdued demeanor, Finn’s sudden change in mood hadn’t gone unnoticed. He could also feel Siobhan’s disapproving gaze on him and did his best to ignore it. The silence, which was often companionable between the three of them, had become tense and oppressive.

  “So, how’s the house?” Siobhan asked finally when they were all seated and eating their portions of the stew. Spencer hadn’t brought his snares, so there wasn’t a lot of meat in it, but it was still better than their usual day-to-day fare.

  “It’s nice.” Finn threw a quick look at Spencer, hoping Siobhan wouldn’t mention their previous conversation. The situation was awkward enough already.

  “Is it big?”

  “Not huge. It’s a bungalow, like this one. Two bedrooms, a basement. Everything we need, and it’s in solid condition. Maybe some repairs on the windows, but nothing major.”

  “Good. Would you like to move in with us?” Siobhan asked, addressing Spencer.

  He raised his head, spoon in hand, clearly startled by her question.

  “Siobhan!” Finn hissed as heat flushed his cheeks and his palms turned sweaty. His inner turmoil, heightened by self-doubt, now threatened to grow into a full-blown panic. While it was true that most social constructs had been rendered meaningless by the circumstances, he still didn’t feel it was right to ask for a commitment from a guy so soon into their relationship, regardless of their physical intimacy. It wasn’t the sexual attraction that mattered here, anyway.

  He risked a quick glance at Spencer and met his steady blue gaze. The same blush colored his cheeks above the line of his beard, but it seemed he had more courage than Finn when it came to these matters, because he didn’t flinch or look away.

  “Would you like me to?” he asked quietly.

  There was no doubt whom he was asking. For a brief moment, Finn choked. Inviting someone to live with them was a huge step. For the past five years, it had been only the two of them, united against the world. Making room for someone else in their sheltered little life was just as much of an obligation.

  But here was a man who was worthy of such a risk. Spencer’s own words about finding meaning, something to care about, suddenly resonated with Finn. If he failed to hold on to this chance, what kind of life would he ultimately have? He was already tired of this fearful existence, with no hope, no joy, nothing to look forward to except the fight for survival. How could he possibly refuse this kind of special gift, either out of guilt or cowardice?

  If felt a little like leaping off a cliff without peeking to see how high it was, but he swallowed hard around his trepidation before answering.

  “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  “Then I’d like that too,” Spencer said.

  Chapter Seven

  “HE’S NOT COMING back,” Finn said.

  The realization had been brewing at the back of his mind, but up until now, he couldn’t bring himsel
f to say it out loud. It had been two days since Spencer had left for the city with the intention of gathering whatever personal belongings and gear he could from his apartment before moving in with Finn and Siobhan. They’d moved the next morning after Finn inspected it, settling in the living room until they were able to clear the rubble from the rest of the rooms.

  The house still had that funky smell about it, but Finn had been too busy making the place livable to notice it much. Spencer had helped him move the worst of the junk out of the rooms into the back yard, making a stock of kindling out of the broken pieces of furniture while he was at it. At least the chimney was in good condition, and soon the open space was warm, without the fireplace giving out too much smoke. They’d even decorated the mantelpiece with glittery baubles they found in a box in the basement in honor of the holidays. Siobhan found it hilarious and good-naturedly mocked them both for holding on to that sentimental crap, but didn’t take the decorations down.

  Spencer departed the day after. With everything still to be done around the place, their parting had been short. They exchanged a hurried kiss out on the driveway before Spencer set off, shouldering his bag and his shotgun, leaving Finn feeling a bit like a Civil War sweetheart waving goodbye to his man.

  Siobhan came to stand beside Finn where he was sitting by the window. They’d boarded everything up but left one board loose so it could serve as a peephole of sorts to survey the surroundings. All Finn could see were the bare branches of a fallen tree sticking out of a pile of gray-streaked snow. The street was empty, save for an occasional rat scurrying on its business.

  “It hasn’t been that long,” she argued. “He could still be packing. You said he had a lot of stuff to sort through. Or he could be held up by the weather.”

  “The weather is fine.” Granted, it could be different in the city, but here, nothing had disturbed the bucolic quiet for the last few days. “And it’s not that long a hike. Maybe…he just changed his mind.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  Finn glanced down at the book opened in his lap. Treasure Island. Spencer had gifted it to him what felt like ages ago—Finn had come to think of it as a token of affection, as sappy as it sounded. He ran his finger along the worn blue spine. As much as he wanted the welcome distraction of immersing himself in the story again, he couldn’t focus on the words. He kept glancing out the window, looking for that tall figure in a long coat and a thick scarf.

  He actually wanted to believe that Spencer had changed his mind about coming back. Because if he didn’t, it would mean something bad had happened to him to prevent his return, and that possibility terrified him.

  When he didn’t answer, Siobhan perched on the armrest of an oversized chair beside him. She looked much better; her skin had adopted a healthier pinkish hue. Higher quality food had certainly helped with her recovery, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  “He wouldn’t have stuck around here with us for so long if all he wanted was just to up and leave,” she said. “Taking care of me, putting in all that work. Come on. You know he did it because he likes you. And he’s not someone that’d make empty promises.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s delayed for whatever reason. Maybe…maybe something went wrong.”

  Hearing her voice, his deeper fears sent a chill down Finn’s spine. He knew only too well how easily things could turn sour in a split second, and how fragile human beings were, despite the resilience of their spirit. Images of Spencer coming home to find it taken over by violent squatters, or him lying in a ditch somewhere having broken his leg on a hidden pothole assaulted Finn in rapid succession.

  He knew what he had to do. Even if Finn ended up finding Spencer alive and well and would have to face being told he wanted nothing more to do with him, it would still be infinitely better than this awful uncertainty and dread gnawing at his heart.

  “I have to go find him.”

  Siobhan nodded. “And I’m going with you.”

  “What? No way!”

  She stood up and rounded on him, hands on her hips, her green eyes flashing.

  “There’s no freaking way I’m staying here alone again, Finn. Just so it’s perfectly clear.”

  “You can’t go with me.” Finn slammed the book shut and stood up, facing her. “The city’s dangerous. And you’re still not well enough to make such a hard trip. You were delirious with fever only four days ago!”

  “You said yourself it was a short hike.” It was clear she wasn’t going to back down without a fight—if at all. “I’m serious, Finn. I don’t want to be sitting here waiting on both of you to come back. It’s not like we have cellphones anymore, do we? What if something happens to you while you’re out there? How the hell am I supposed to know, or let you know if I get sick again? I’m done with your solitary trips. We either go together, or stay together.”

  She stared at him defiantly. He couldn’t really fault her reasoning—certainly not after what had happened to him in that hospital. He still hadn’t told her about that particular incident, hedging around the question of how exactly he and Spencer had met. Siobhan did have a point. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he could handle the anxiety of worrying about her being all alone ever again—not after the last scare.

  “Okay, you’re right.” He threw his hands up in a pacifying gesture, admitting defeat. “We go together. But you have to promise me to take it easy and let me help.”

  “I promise,” she said promptly, with a readiness that made Finn suspicious, but it was too late to back down. He sighed heavily, unsure whether he should feel better or worse about the entire situation.

  “Fine. Let’s get packing.”

  “I CAN WALK,” Siobhan said stubbornly.

  Finn scoffed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Trudging along a snowy stretch of highway while pulling a DIY sleigh made out of an old folding bed wasn’t exactly easy, but he’d rather Siobhan conserve her strength for as long as she could, even if she was capable of walking and had started out on her own feet. However, after one too many coughing fits, Finn insisted on pulling her in the sleigh for a while and refused to go any farther until she agreed, despite her indignation at being “treated like a helpless child.” Finally, she gave in, but that didn’t mean she’d given up on complaining about it.

  “Trust me, you’ll get to walk once we reach downtown.”

  Towing another person would mark them as easy prey within the city limits. But two people going about their business, bundled up enough to be indistinguishable by gender, would attract much less attention, although it did make things more difficult for Siobhan.

  They ended up ditching the sleigh somewhere around Massachusetts Avenue. It took them considerably longer than the usual four or five hours to get to the city since Finn had to make frequent breaks to rest his legs and shoulders, but at least the journey had been uneventful. He slung on his messenger bag and helped Siobhan to her feet, supporting her thin frame. With all the layers of wool scarves wrapped around her head, only her green eyes, so similar to his own, were visible. The dark circles underneath them showed that, despite her insistence to the contrary, she still wasn’t entirely well.

  “Feels like ages since I’ve been here,” she said, pulling the scarf away from her mouth and looking around.

  “Keeps getting worse every time I drop by.”

  Light snow began to fall as they walked down the avenue. Finn carried a metal pipe in his hand, alert to any stirring of movement around them. It wouldn’t deter any real predators, but maybe it would give pause to opportunists who might think of accosting them.

  Spencer’s high-rise loomed in front of them, an easily spotted landmark. The twin buildings next to it were in much worse shape, most of their siding missing and the balconies precariously close to crumbling away and falling. Their broken windows gaped like empty sockets, peering blindly on whatever life-forms scurried below.

 
; Finn looked up, searching for any sign of life. The building appeared abandoned—as well it should—with heaps of half-frozen garbage littering the curb. All the windows on the lower floors were boarded shut. It was an unwelcoming sight, and Finn’s spirits fell. What if Spencer wasn’t home? What if he’d simply tarried a bit, getting his stuff together, and had already left, missing their arrival? They’d covered this contingency and left a note for Spencer at the house, letting him know where they’d gone, but Finn hated to think Siobhan had made the rough journey for nothing.

  On the other hand, he’d much prefer that version of events to any other he’d conjured in the last twenty-four hours.

  There was only one way to find out. They made their way toward the entrance. The large lock Spencer had used was missing, and the door stood slightly ajar. Snow had already piled up in the lobby, covering the tiled floor in a thin carpet that crunched under their feet as they walked in. Finn took out his flashlight and led the way up the stairs to the second floor, pausing in front of the first door on the left. Like the front door of the building, it had been left opened.

  Cold dread coiled in the pit of his stomach. It could well be that Spencer hadn’t bothered with locking it for the last time before leaving, but somehow, Finn knew this wasn’t the case. Something was terribly wrong.

  “Stay here,” he whispered to Siobhan and opened the door as quietly as he could, stepping inside with the steel pipe in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

  The apartment was dark and cold, the exact opposite of how he remembered it. Spencer’s coat and shotgun were missing from their pegs in the hallway, but Finn didn’t have time to contemplate what that might mean. He stepped cautiously into the living room, dimly lit by the daylight seeping in through the cracks in the boarded windows. The beam of his flashlight swiped across the room, but the added illumination only heightened the impact of the wreckage that greeted him.