Of Nuts and Men: A Gay Paranormal Romance

by Franks, LE

  He shuddered and pushed thoughts of his escape from death away and turned back to his savior.

  “Hey, Jamie! Put on your fur coat and come down—I think I still have a couple of nuts in my pocket for you.”

  Jamie’s guffaw sparkled on the evening air. “Is that right?” The redhead’s voice filtered down through the branches, and Sawyer flushed at the audible innuendo. Something quickened in his gut, a mix of anxiety and lust and just a little bit of hero worship.

  “Um... I meant, uh—not those kind of nuts.... Can you just get down?”

  Now he was flustered at the thought of a reunion on terra firma with one very sexy naked man—or half-man, half-squirrel—and he wished he could reel his ill-chosen words back across his tongue, never to be spoken. If he hadn’t been flushed with emotion, giddy over his rescue, he would have played it suave, cool....

  But now he felt like an inexperienced kid in the face of the kind beauty and courageous heart Jamie manifested.

  He rubbed at his neck and tried to work out another scenario in his head, one that gave him back his equilibrium and still got him his man... because after all this, Jamie had left a definite imprint on him. Maybe not something as crazy as soul magic, if there even was such a thing, or love at first sight, which was almost as unbelievable—but something tangible, nonetheless. It felt like he’d found a piece of himself that had been missing.

  If they were only destined to be good friends, Sawyer wanted every bit of it that he could have.

  “Give me a sec.” It was all the warning he got before Jamie toppled out of the tree to land flat on his back in the middle of the trail.

  “Oh, fuck!” Sawyer was at Jamie’s side in just a second.

  Jamie was pale—paler, actually, than before—and when Sawyer laid his hands on Jamie’s chest to check that his heart was still beating, the skin was painfully cold and the heartbeat was sluggish.

  Sawyer almost vomited in relief as Jamie groaned and curled over onto his side, and he hoped he’d only gotten the wind knocked out of him.

  Of more immediate concern was his body temperature. Sawyer had seen hypothermia before.

  “Jamie, can you hear me? Jamie—” Sawyer yanked off his denim shirt and used it to cover Jamie’s torso. There was just too much exposed shifter and not enough fabric on Sawyer to make much of a difference. He peeled off his vest and placed that over the shifter’s groin and started rubbing Jamie’s thighs to get his blood moving.

  “Come on, Jamie, wake up.” He needed to get Jamie warmed up quickly, so he worked on his arms next and was gratified to see a little flush of pink return. “Come on, come on, come on....”

  He looked around for something he could use as shelter and realized they weren’t actually very far from his campsite—the stupid cat had driven him almost back to his tent.

  All the better.

  Jamie’s eyes fluttered open, and Sawyer pulled him into a sitting position to lean half across his chest as he continued to work on warming him up.

  “Wha... what happened?”

  “You fell out of the fucking tree. Is that another one of your special shifter tricks?”

  “You said ‘get down.’ Jus’ followin’ orders....”

  “I said you should put on your fur coat first. Didn’t your mother ever teach you anything about playing outside without a jacket?”

  Sawyer meant to be gently teasing, but like everything else in the last ten minutes, it fell flat.

  “No mom,” Jamie gritted out. “Too cold, not enough... juice left—”

  Jamie’s speech was tentative but coherent, and Sawyer ignored the burst of emotion he felt for the orphaned child. It was easier to channel his irritation at the stupid risks Jamie had taken on his behalf.

  “So you stayed up there knowing you wouldn’t be able to squirrel yourself back to safety once you rescued me?” Sawyer clenched his jaw. Now was not the time to let his temper flare. “Since you’re so good at following orders, I have one more. Let’s see if you can manage this one a little more successfully. Get up. I’m taking you back to camp.”

  “Knew ya liked me... but ya haven’ bought me dinner yet.”

  Sawyer grunted and resisted flicking his nose. The humor was a good sign.

  Jamie hissed as Sawyer rose to his feet, keeping his arms wrapped around the redhead to help lever him upright. “You weigh a ton.” And he did.

  Sawyer had no idea how Jamie had managed all those feats of strength he’d performed in the tree while getting him down from there—but he’d never be able to do this on his own. “You have to help me, Jamie. Up, up, up! Use those gorgeous legs for something more than attracting other squirrels.”

  He continued to prod and tease until Jamie was back on his feet and leaning heavily against him.

  “You think ’m pretty,” Jamie huffed.

  “Stay,” Sawyer ordered, keeping a hand on the small of Jamie’s back, trying desperately not to stare at the firm globes of the man’s ass cheeks, now inches from his face. He grabbed his vest and shirt from the ground and wrangled Jamie into them, small protection from the dropping temperatures, but maybe just enough to get Jamie back to his camp in one piece.

  It was a stumbling trip they made. First to the trailhead, another hundred feet back up the path, and then a short trek to the first of the park’s permitted backcountry campgrounds.

  Still early in the season—snow in June wasn’t unheard of—most campers preferred cabins to tents, and in the week he’d been here, Sawyer had yet to see another camper sharing the area.

  Nice for the privacy, just bad luck when he really needed a phone to call the rangers to get Jamie professional help. He looked longingly at the deserted campsites.

  No sense in wishing for the impossible.

  “Let’s get you warm.” Sawyer unzipped his tent and helped Jamie crawl inside.

  Chapter Twelve

  It felt like there were a thousand tiny needles pricking his skin, and the only thing that soothed the burn was Sawyer and the magic he wielded as he rubbed the life back into Jamie’s body, which was odd, given the heat coming from the hands traveling along one thigh.

  “Still too frickin’ cold.” His body was shivering and racked with minute shakes, but he was safe and ensconced in a sleeping bag covered in Sawyer’s spicy scent, and content.

  Clarity returned to Jamie’s brain as he listened to the blond mutter under his breath as he piled blankets and clothes over the top of him. But it was not enough. He was still cold—he’d let it go too long, exposing his body to the elements, and he knew better. He could have shifted at any time, reset his body temp back to the safe zone before proceeding with the rescue... but something about Sawyer’s anxiousness had struck him, kept him close and unwilling to make him wait. Even if it meant ignoring everything he’d ever learned about shifting.

  If mama cat ever found out... well, that was the stuff of nightmares, not the risk of a little frostbite on his bits.

  “This is not how I wanted to go about this,” Sawyer announced to no one in particular.

  Jamie could see him from his corner of the tent—the blond’s head bowed in order to stand in its apex as he faced away, as if contemplating his escape through the zippered flap.

  He was about to speak, or at least grunt his appreciation to Sawyer for all that he’d done for him, when the other man abruptly peeled off his thermal undershirt and began to strip.

  While Sawyer was bent over, busy unlacing his boots, Jamie was occupied by the rippling muscles on display. In the soft glow of the Coleman lantern, the skin on this man’s chest and back looked golden, like the light of a summer’s day, and Jamie couldn’t wait to see how far down that color extended.

  “Do you need anything? Are you feeling all right?” Sawyer paused, his hands frozen in the act of unbuttoning his pants, and Jamie realized he must have moaned or whimpered out loud—the pain, this time, localized somewhat south, if Sawyer were to demand specifics from him.

  “Fine. J
ust... thirsty?” That seemed safe enough, and Sawyer’s face flushed, like he’d forgotten something vital and was just now being reprimanded for his failure. Jamie was about to take it back, but the other man had disappeared outside, taking all his lovely skin with him while letting the cold back in.

  He felt what little interest remained subside as a fresh wave of shudders rolled over him. And when Sawyer was back, pressing a warm tin cup in his hand, he was grateful.

  “Hot cider. Thought you could use the sugar as well as the heat.” Sawyer stooped awkwardly over him, cup in one hand and silver thermos in the other. He held it up, as if for inspection, then continued a little more sheepishly. “I have more.”

  His moans this time were pure pleasure as the hot liquid slid down his throat. Jamie could almost feel it traveling through every vein, leaving warmth and vitality in its wake.

  “Delicious.” He drained the rest of the cider in one long gulp, and when he held the blue enamel cup out for Sawyer to take, he noticed the flush blooming across the blond’s chest and the heightened color in his cheeks—both easily attributed to his half-naked dash outside, except for the lowered eyes. Sawyer had never failed to make eye contact with him before.

  When he did look up, Jamie was waiting to catch his gaze and project as welcoming a smile as he could muster in his sorry state.

  “Do you want more? Are you still cold?” Sawyer held the cup uncertainly.

  “No, and yes,” Jamie replied, snuggling back down. It was the truth. The chill had sunk teeth into his bones, and it wasn’t letting go, not for hot cider, or foot rubs, or even the other half of Sawyer’s duffel bag dumped on top of him.

  That seemed to settle something in the other man—in a flash he’d kicked off his boots, removed the rest of his clothes, and then Jamie was presented with an up close and personal view of a broad chest, cut abs, and a heavy cock swinging in his face.

  Jamie was sure his tongue was permanently stuck to the roof of his mouth from lack of moisture.

  It was only getting worse, or in this case, Jamie thought, better as Sawyer pulled open the sleeping bag far enough to slip in beside him—faster than Jamie could shift, Sawyer was there, wrapping him in his arms, sharing his searing heat.

  And when Sawyer slipped a leg between Jamie’s thighs to draw him even closer, he was sure this was some form of karmic payback—and counterproductive to boot—because after all his efforts to save him, this time Sawyer was going to be the death of him.

  “Come on, Jamie....” Sawyer sounded concerned as he rubbed slow circles across his chest, setting off tiny rings of fire that burned for many seconds after Sawyer’s hand had passed. And all that blood that the man was working so hard to circulate was now rushing en masse about as far away from his extremities as it could go, unless you considered a man’s cock to be extreme.

  Sawyer brushed a finger across Jamie’s nipple, eliciting a moan that he hoped sounded like just another painful groan—similar to all the other noises he’d made as his fingers and toes came back to life with the sensation of being feasted on by fire ants.

  Unlike those other times, Sawyer froze.

  Then Jamie froze.

  Finally Sawyer took a breath. “Are you okay, Jamie?”

  And wasn’t that the question of the day? If Sawyer kept squirming on top of him, he was going to find out for himself—their shared body heat was turning his frozen blood into a river of fire, he could feel it surging, igniting desire in the wake of cold’s retreat.

  “More than.” His voice dropped to a whisper, even though Jamie was sure they were alone. “Another gift of the mage—quick recovery....”

  “Good to know.” Sawyer smiled and began to move his hand again, though the circles were different somehow—less clinical, maybe. “So... how much more?” Sawyer whispered, giving Jamie a shock, and he wondered what he should say. He hitched their bodies closer, instead.

  “Ah.” Sawyer’s fingers drifted back across Jamie’s chest, and the heat growing between them flared as Sawyer dragged a thumbnail across Jamie’s other nipple, toying with it until its pucker matched the first.

  The sound Jamie made was definitely a groan.

  And the noise Sawyer made in return was a sparkling laugh, the sound of snowmelt dancing down an alpine stream, splashing over its banks.

  “You have a marvelous laugh—” Jamie slid his hips just a little to the left, silently nudging Sawyer’s knee away from his erection, which had the benefit of sliding Sawyer farther south, putting everything of interest within the range of the blond’s clever mouth.

  Jamie sucked in a breath and held it as Sawyer flicked out a fat, pink tongue and licked his chest, as if tasting him before committing to order the full meal.

  Clever tongue.

  “Are you feeling up for this?” Sawyer didn’t really wait for Jamie’s answer, or he did—sort of. He rolled his head sideways so he could continue to watch Sawyer and tease him at the same time.

  “Yesssss,” Jamie hissed and tried not to buck Sawyer off his chest. “If you’re not sure, just slide your hand over a little and find out for yourself.”

  “Not what I meant.” Teeth underscored the sentiment as Sawyer bit down, sending electricity sparking to Jamie’s brain, nipple throbbing in delight. He shuddered out a breath and reached over to cup Sawyer’s chin with his hand, brushing a thumb across his lower lip.

  “If not this—” Jamie undulated, bumping their tumescent cocks together, “then... what, exactly?”

  “Ummmm....” Sawyer drew the thumb into his mouth and began to suck and chew on it. “...can’t remember. But ‘this’ is good.”

  “It is.” Jamie almost lost track of his train of thought as his penis pulsed in sync with the digit in Sawyer’s mouth. He pulled it together enough to continue. “Lucky for you, I can remember for you—you’re worried that if I let you fuck me—”

  Sawyer bit down hard at the word “fuck,” and Jamie jerked his thumb to safety, flicking the end of Sawyer’s nose as he went.

  “Shit, Sawyer!”

  “Yes,” Sawyer announced before returning to licking and nibbling, this time in the crook of Jamie’s neck.

  “What?” Jamie was afraid the cold had done damage to his brain; he seemed to keep losing vital pieces of information.

  Hovering above him, Sawyer did not look angelic anymore. “You were about to invite me to fuck you. So I said ‘yes.’”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A sharp nod from Jamie was all Sawyer needed—that and another six inches of height.

  “Jamie, can you reach that blue bag behind your head?”

  Supplies—condoms and lube: the single guy’s symbols of optimism, at least until he checks the expiration date. Lucky he’d changed his mind and stopped at a drugstore on his way up the mountain, or he’d be the one crying.

  Jamie grabbed the plastic shopping bag and poked through it, holding up each item as he named them. “Dental floss, Bed Head shampoo, Twix, shaving cream—Do you actually have any hair? Is all this shaved?” Jamie gestured at Sawyer’s smooth chest with the can.

  “Funny. I’m about to take the blowjob off the table.” Sawyer tried to look stern, but Jamie wasn’t even paying attention.

  “You seem to be a biter... so... pass!” He glanced up with a grin that sent Sawyer’s pulse racing.

  Jamie stuck his face back in the bag. “Eureka!” He pulled out a full- sized bottle of lube and a travel pack of condoms. “Lacking confidence?” Jamie smirked, tossing both over.

  “Afraid I can’t make you come six times in one night?” Sawyer countered, setting them aside before crawling up the bag to hover over Jamie. Sawyer loved the way Jamie’s hair looked, like old mahogany in the low light, and he reached out to brush aside a loose strand, trailing his fingers across a sculpted cheek as he did.

  “I thought you were wearing them,” Jamie husked, capturing Sawyer’s hand and placing a soft kiss in the palm.

  “So six?” It was a challenge. “I’m ve
ry, very good, Jamie. I won’t leave you hanging.”

  “Says the man who’s not fucking me... yet.” Jamie curled his fingers, capturing and entwining Sawyer’s into a tight grip, pulling him flush against his cool marble chest.

  Sawyer had never felt quite so naked before. The skin beneath him was measurably warmer, probably some advantage to being a shifter, or a squirrel, or both—this wasn’t an invalid he was taking advantage of.

  In fact, just the opposite. Jamie was hard and smooth, his body dipped and rose as musculature demanded, his heartbeat was steady, if a little fast, and those dark eyes of his held promise and impatience. There was no lingering weakness Sawyer could detect.

  The last of Sawyer’s reluctance melted away, and he kissed Jamie like he’d wanted to from before—not at first sight, but soon after—after the shock of seeing him peering from between the needles of that damn tree had worn off.

  Jamie couldn’t let it be this easy; he fought Sawyer for dominance over their kiss, pushing Sawyer’s tongue aside with his own, using it to explore his mouth, stroking his palate, tempting Sawyer to fight back and take control. When he did, Jamie made a tiny sound of bliss, pulling his long legs up as far as the sleeping bag allowed.

  Without breaking their kiss, Sawyer grabbed one silky thigh, anchoring it to his hip. It left Jamie beautifully splayed beneath him. They were pressed too close together, the tent too dark for Sawyer to clearly see, but the memory of Jamie’s nudity so fearlessly on display from before was burned onto the back of Sawyer’s eyes. If he lived to be a thousand, he was sure he’d wake every day seeing all that russet beauty.

  “More.” Jamie was the first to break, gulping a breath before pulling Sawyer in for another kiss.

  It was a sentiment they shared—as Jamie moved his mouth under his, Sawyer felt charged with electricity, like he was made of lightning and Jamie was the only thing keeping him from flying apart. Or maybe it was the other way around—they were evenly matched. Sawyer could just as happily be the one pinned to the ground under Jamie’s weight as he made free with his tongue as Sawyer was doing now.