by Skye Warren
When four fingers were tightly ensconced in the clutch of Sebastian’s body, and Sebastian responded by widening his legs impossibly farther, by fucking back on those fingers, Drake knew it was time. He carefully removed his fingers and eased the head of his cock inside. Sebastian gasped and bucked, but that wasn’t the hard part, not when he’d just been stretched. Drake eased himself in, bit by bit, allowing Sebastian’s body to spasm around the intrusion and ultimately submit with a strong, warm grip.
Drake stroked Sebastian’s cock with each small thrust of his hips. “Do you like it?”
“Gods…” Sebastian’s face was a mask of torment, alluring and heart-wrenching.
“Yes,” Drake ground out, gritting his teeth against the rippling pleasure. “Good.”
“It hurts. Don’t stop.” Sebastian thrashed on the ground, staked by Drake’s cock.
“More,” Drake demanded, never ceasing his stroking.
Sebastian moaned, low and long. “Just don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Fuck me, Drake. Harder.”
Drake was unable to resist. He pulled back an inch and then rammed inside. They grunted together in a symphony of masculine lust, Sebastian’s willing submission a sweet counterpoint to Drake’s helpless dominance.
The swell of pleasure boiled over inside Drake. He sped his hand on Sebastian’s cock. Sebastian’s hands grappled the ground, reached for Drake. Sebastian let out a soft cry as cum spilled over Drake’s hand. The ripples grew into waves around Drake’s cock, dragging him under to completion.
He was brought back to awareness by small whimpers from the man below him.
“Shh,” he soothed. “It’s okay, sweet one. You’re safe.”
He waited until Sebastian quieted before reaching down to the well-used opening and slowly pulled his cock free. He massaged the area, while leaving soothing kisses along the line of Sebastian’s shoulder.
When Sebastian settled, Drake fell to the side, pulling Sebastian to him. Soon they would get up and face their futures. Their lives would not be easy, but they would be each other’s solace on the road ahead. The world was barren of magic, and yet the darkly blanketed sky provided cover for their trek tonight.
He landed a final regretful kiss on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Let’s go wash up. We’ve got a lot of walking to do.”
Chapter Five
Drake watched Sebastian stumble and right himself. It hurt not to help, but Drake knew Sebastian would not appreciate an acknowledgment of his weakness. Already they had argued about the supply packs, and Drake now carried all of them. But of course—he was uninjured.
He had loaded Sebastian with water and a protein injection, but eight rotations across a barren desert was no small feat for the healthy. The man really needed rest, but Drake assumed he would prefer to see his father as soon as possible.
He hadn’t even told Sebastian about that yet. He told himself he didn’t want to get Sebastian’s hopes up in case something happened in the interim. He didn’t want to risk exciting Sebastian when his health was so fragile, and they had so long to travel. But a tiny voice taunted him that once Sebastian had his father back, he would begin to make plans that didn’t involve Drake.
Was Drake really so selfish that he would keep Sebastian with him, beholden by a sense of obligation? That remained to be seen.
The clay hills stretched before them like old skin, sunburned and cracked. Dust eddies swirled as they passed like miniature, harmless tornadoes. The temperature dipped once the sun sank below the horizon.
“How much longer? Just wondering,” Sebastian panted.
A surge of frustration ran through Drake’s body at the sight of his physical distress. He felt fury toward the men who hurt Sebastian, even for himself who had dragged him out here. Sebastian wasn’t trained for this shit, and even a well-trained soldier with those types of injuries would struggle at this trek.
He would throw the man over his shoulder if he thought Sebastian would allow it. He was tempted to do it anyway.
“We can take a rest,” Drake said.
“No.” Sebastian set his mouth in a determined slash, but his nostrils flared with the effort. “I’m fine.”
Drake didn’t believe that for a second, but he allowed the lie to walk beside them, as Sebastian slowed and the cold grew stronger. Sebastian gained a limp for his troubles, and Drake couldn’t take it anymore.
“You won’t allow me to help you?” he asked, unable to wring the frustration from his voice.
Sebastian threw him a dark glance. “I think you’ve done enough.”
The venom surprised him, though it shouldn’t have. Sebastian did nothing half-assed, including, apparently, resenting the hell out of Drake. “You’d rather I left you there?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Stop being so fucking reasonable!” Sebastian shouted.
Drake knew he was being baited, but damn it, it was working. He reminded himself that Sebastian had been through a hell of a lot these past couple days and considering the grim future that awaited them, it was likely to continue. He reminded himself that Sebastian was a hot head, and that’s what he liked about him.
Hell, loved.
What use was it to deny the new stitching on his heart, the one that proclaimed Sebastian its owner?
“I don’t like to see you struggle,” Drake said softly.
Sebastian stopped and stared off into the dusty ether. “That’s all I do,” he finally said in a voice choked with weariness. “It’s all I am.”
Drake put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Then let me help.”
Sebastian tensed under his palm, and Drake waited to be thrown off. But then Sebastian turned and wrapped an arm around Drake’s shoulder, embracing him, using him for support as they pushed on. Despite the significance of the submission, there was no resentment in Sebastian’s touch. No pain at the loss of independence as Drake had feared. Only the steady plod of a man determined.
It was that perseverance that had kept Sebastian alive, Drake decided. Though he hoped this was one of many times Sebastian would rely on him, he would do well not to tarnish that core of steel, lest he threaten that which he held most dear.
Their path passed slower now, joined as they were, but the goal was more assured. After a long while the house became visible as a white dot, which grew into a hazy gray box. It was an oasis of sorts, and Drake let himself feel a moment’s relief even though he knew this was only a pit stop.
Finally they reached the world-worn home and dragged up its front steps. It was time.
“Sebastian.”
He looked up at Drake, and the vulnerability seared him like a scorching hot wire.
“When I left you there, I went to find El Basque like you asked me to.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened, but his breath quickened—too fast, considering they’d already been panting. “Where?” he breathed out.
Drake nodded toward the house. “Here. I don’t know if—”
But he didn’t need to explain, because then Maria was at the door, ushering them inside and dragging Sebastian to his father. Drake watched them embrace from the door. Quietly, so as not to disturb, he gave instructions for Maria to provide Sebastian with whatever he needed and asked her to tend his wounds.
Then he turned to leave.
“Drake, wait.”
He paused at the sound of Sebastian’s voice but didn’t turn around. “What is it?” He hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh, as if he was berating one of his subordinates for speaking out of line.
“I just… thank you. Thank you.”
His voice was boyish in its gratitude but imbued with meaning. You did this for me, his voice practically sang. And hell, it was only the truth, but somehow Drake didn’t feel up to it. It was too much, too fast, and when exactly had Drake decided he couldn’t live without Sebastian?
“It’s nothing.”
“No,” Sebastian said, so earnest. “I know
what it must have taken. I thought you wouldn’t… I thought you didn’t…”
He couldn’t stand to hear any more, not another word of desperate gratitude, for his escape, for his father. He whirled on Sebastian. “I said it was nothing. Nothing. What I did for you, I’d do for anyone, understand?”
And there it was—the surprise, the pain, the proof that Drake could fuck it up with the best of them.
“I understand,” Sebastian said, his voice too wavery to be believed. But then he’d slipped back into the room and the low murmurs came from within. Drake retreated to his room, knowing he’d proved himself a coward once again.
He sat on the small bed and pulled out the photograph of a woman, her hands resting on her still-flat belly. Her smile was full of pride and promise—a promise never fulfilled. What would she think of him now? He could imagine her teasing him that it had taken him long enough, that he’d finally gotten his head out of his behind. And then she’d smack it, and he’d pay her back in kind, but that was only in his head now.
He could imagine her laughing over Sebastian’s fire, encouraging him to nettle Drake. Yes, she would like Sebastian. She would probably think Drake was getting his just rewards for being a stoic bastard, and that sounded about right to him.
A smile was on his face, though he couldn’t remember how it got there or when he’d last done a thing like that. His cheeks were suspiciously wet, but it didn’t signify, not when he had a life again. A future again.
He only had to convince another man of that fact, and he had no doubt he would succeed. He hadn’t been made the commander of the Eastern Ke’lan province for nothing, had he? This was the time to prove his mettle.
* * *
Sebastian’s throat clenched at the sight of his father. Elation that he was free clashed dangerously with despair at the harsh lines of suffering etched on the older man’s face.
El Basque’s hand, spotted with age, scuttled over to cover his. “Do not look at me like that. It was a good life.”
Sebastian knew it to be a lie. He had waited for his father outside the taverns, seen him thrown out on the dirt for loosening his tongue to the wrong person. He had witnessed his father’s nightly rages, felt the force of them through his father’s fists.
El Basque chuckled softly, a harsh rattling sound. “If it wasn’t always a good life, it was the better for having you in it.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and suddenly he was a little boy again, huddled on the floor. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, just that he should have done better.
El Basque didn’t hit him this time, didn’t yell or stumble to his cot. “No, I need to apologize. I owe you that.” He coughed and spasmed. “I didn’t do right by you.”
Sebastian shook his head. “No.”
“Ah, well.” El Basque closed his eyes. “I pray to see your mother in the after. I’m sure she will have words for me.” He opened them again. “But you have this man, no?”
A life’s worth of emotion swirled in Sebastian’s stomach. “He just helped me. That’s all.”
“Yes, but it is more than that.”
It could never be more than that. Sebastian had already caused enough trouble for him. He had nothing to offer Drake, and he refused to cling to him like a leech. “We have to leave here.”
“It is a nice house. Small but warm.” El Basque breathed deeply. “It would be a good place to die.”
Sebastian sucked in a breath and considered asking Drake permission to stay. For how long? Would he sleep in Drake’s bed? He weighed his already emaciated honor and decided he could not whore himself out, not even for a bed for his father. Every man had his limit.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian repeated.
His father shut his eyes. “Do not worry, son. Come to me when it is time.”
Sebastian left the room, almost crashing into the elderly woman who stood outside the room. She directed him wordlessly to a small empty bedroom and then proceeded to scrub him down despite his best efforts to dissuade her. She cleaned his cuts and put liniments on his bruises. He refused the little contraband tablet of medicine she offered.
When she finally left him tucked in bed, he stole from the room. It wasn’t hard to find Drake, slumbering in another soft bed. He looked too peaceful to disturb, but there was only now. The moonlight slashed his bare chest. His body was beautiful, but it was Drake’s eyes, now closed, that would haunt him.
Sebastian climbed into the bed, trying to memorize the warmth that encased him. He scooted closer, nuzzling into Drake’s side like a pup trying to drink sustenance.
“Feeling better?” Drake mumbled.
“I have to talk to you,” Sebastian whispered.
Drake swiped a hand over his face, but his eyes remained closed. “In the morning.”
Sebastian took the opportunity to memorize that face. “I’ll need to leave before then.”
“Don’t leave.” He wasn’t sure Drake was even awake for this.
“You’ll understand,” Sebastian said, curling into his side. “I have to.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
* * *
Sebastian woke in the dark before dawn. His body was well accustomed to such a schedule from years of training, to abandoning whatever temporary sleeping location they’d used the night before. To seeking out food and water before his father awoke and needed them.
Drake lay on the bed beside him, though sometime in the night they had switched places. Their limbs were in a tangle, and Sebastian moved incrementally to make sure he did not disturb Drake. He was a coward, but he had no desire to face Drake in the light of day.
Drake would insist that he stay, at least for a while. He would feel responsible for Sebastian and want him to heal before making the journey. Sebastian could not countenance the idea of living in Drake’s home, even sleeping in his bed, but not having him.
Plus there was the small detail that he planned to steal Drake’s vehicle.
It was the right thing to leave. He hated to steal, but it was the only way to accomplish it. He didn’t think Drake would mind.
What I did for you, I’d do for anyone, understand?
That’s all he was to Drake—a charity case. He crept from the room, quietly, carefully, and made his way downstairs. He packed enough food to last for a couple of days, knowing it would take at least that before they reached another town.
Sebastian went to wake El Basque. “It’s time to go.”
His father allowed himself to be wrapped in sheets. “Thank you, son.”
Sebastian did not like the finality of the words. They sounded like goodbye. “You’re going to be well,” he said fiercely.
El Basque smiled faintly. “I know.”
Sebastian set his jaw and carried him down the stairs, cringing at every creak of the old wood. He settled him into a makeshift cot of wood and blankets.
He walked back into the house, almost running into the woman again. Damn, she was quiet. Would she tell Drake they were leaving?
She handed him a small bundle. Sebastian peeked inside and saw the medicines she’d used last night.
He managed a smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Her wizened face crinkled into a smile of her own, then she disappeared into the house. How she managed to move that quickly, he didn’t know. He went to gather the last of the supplies he’d plucked from the house’s pantry, feeling like the worst kind of louse. He knew that Drake had plenty left, that he would have allowed Sebastian to take what he needed, but also that Drake would not be happy to find him gone.
He held his breath as the old vehicle rumbled to a start. He pulled to the front of the house and stared at the door. All this quiet, all this creeping, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than for Drake to come running out of the house, icy blue eyes blazing. Drake would tell him off, but Sebastian deserved it. And then he would get to say a proper goodbye.
None of that happened. The door remained shut, Drake remained sleeping, and Sebastian rem
ained a selfish little shit. He looked back at the still lump that was his father and knew he had best get going if he wanted to find shelter before the end of the day.
With one last, long look at the plain white house, Sebastian left Drake behind.
* * *
The wheels clattered over the uneven clay, jolting them along. He could hear the makeshift cot rattle against the wooden base of the caravan.
The sound wormed its way into Sebastian’s conscience. He was the cause of his father’s suffering now. And not only that, he thought of Drake’s face when he said he was leaving. Had he seen sadness in those blue eyes? Hurt even?
Because he was surely hurting. Every revolution of the wheels was like a crank to his heart, winding and grinding until there’d be nothing left.
In the rear-facing mirror, a lone insect crawled the horizon, traveling closer until it morphed into a single man on a bike. It vroomed even closer and pulled alongside him. The rider lifted his visor, and Sebastian could see that it was not a man but a woman. He slowed, and she matched his speed.
“Where are you headed?” she called in a melodious voice.
Sebastian’s shrug blended into the bumps of the terrain.
She glanced back at the covered caravan of the vehicle. “It’s not safe to travel alone in these parts.”
“Then what are you doing?”
She grinned. “Living dangerously.”
Sebastian allowed himself a small laugh. He should probably be more worried—this could be an ambush or hell, a woman could handle a gun as well as a man—but somehow he wasn’t.
“There’s a watershed about two miles that away,” she said. “They overcharge, but they don’t ask questions.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Sebastian said.
The roar of the bike between her legs signaled her imminent departure.
“Hey, wait,” Sebastian called. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“You betcha, soldier.” She pulled ahead of him and drove away. Bemused, he watched her shrinking form, shimmery in the desert. Soldier. He wasn’t a soldier, although he knew one. Hell, he wasn’t ever getting away from this, was he? The reasons he had left seemed small in his mind.
