Lang Downs

by Ariel Tachna

  This kiss, though, this kiss had to be perfect, and so Thorne lingered over the barest of contact, their lips hardly touching. He felt Ian’s breath against his beard, little puffs of air with only the slightest hint of a rasp from his smoke exposure. Thorne lifted his hand, intending to cradle Ian’s cheek in his palm, but the memories of his dream were still fresh. He could see the blood staining his hands, and he couldn’t sully Ian with that.

  Ian had no such reservations, grabbing Thorne’s hand and pressing it to his cheek, so Thorne gave up questioning what he’d done to deserve such a treasure and went with it, curving his fingers along Ian’s jaw so that the tips barely touched his ear. Ian shivered and leaned closer. Thorne took that as an invitation and increased the pressure of their lips, not asking for more, just brushing their mouths together, lingering, parting for breath, only to linger once more.

  Thorne felt the motion of Ian’s shoulder as he lifted his hand up to Thorne’s tangled hair. He’d lost his tie at some point during the day and had given up trying to keep his hair back. Ian didn’t seem to care as he hummed into the kiss. A moment later, his other hand joined the first, carding through the jumbled strands, easing out the knots and massaging Thorne’s scalp.

  Thorne groaned softly at the sheer luxury of it: a private room with a closed door, Ian’s mouth soft and pliant beneath his as he leaned into Thorne’s hand, Ian’s hands in his hair, stroking and caressing like he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Thorne pulled back for a moment, resting his forehead against Ian’s. Ian opened his eyes and met Thorne’s gaze, and Thorne could have wept for the joy and wonder he saw on Ian’s face. A kiss, a simple, practically chaste kiss, had earned him that look, and he would do whatever it took to keep it.

  He nuzzled Ian’s cheek, letting his beard brush against the hint of stubble along Ian’s jaw. Ian sighed and leaned into the contact, so Thorne brushed his lips over Ian’s cheekbone and across the bridge of his nose. Ian’s hair was too short to run his fingers through, but he curved his hand around the back of Ian’s neck, letting the bristle tickle his palm. With his hand that way, his thumb rested right below Ian’s ear. When he stroked that patch of skin, Ian shivered and sighed again.

  Thorne couldn’t resist that sound. He needed to swallow it from Ian’s throat, so he kissed him again with parted lips, though he kept his tongue to himself.

  Perfect, he reminded himself. It has to be perfect.

  When he repeated the caress, Ian repeated the sigh, and Thorne thought his heart would burst right then. He had done nothing to deserve Ian’s trust, but Ian seemed to be giving it to him anyway. He inhaled sharply when one of Ian’s hands tugged a little roughly on a tangle in his hair, the smell of hospital disinfectant overridden by the slightly woodsy scent of Ian’s skin. Carley must have brought Ian’s own toiletries from the station, because the hospital soap certainly didn’t smell that good.

  Wanting more, he buried his face in the crook of Ian’s neck and simply breathed Ian in.

  “Oh,” Ian breathed out, and Thorne wasn’t sure how to interpret the sound. He started to pull back so he could ask, but Ian held him in place. Thorne smiled and nuzzled a little more, making sure his beard caressed Ian’s skin as much as his lips did.

  “That shouldn’t feel so good.” Ian’s breathless tone would have brought Thorne to his knees if he hadn’t already been sitting. Ian had implied he didn’t have much experience, but surely someone had taken the time to appreciate him.

  If no one had, well, all the more reason for Thorne to make this kiss as perfect as possible. Ian deserved to be cherished. He deserved to be kissed like the treasure he was. If no one had seen that before, it made Thorne the luckiest son of a bitch in New South Wales, because he had Ian now, and he wasn’t letting go.

  Ian tugged at his hair until Thorne lifted his head, and this time Ian dove into the kiss with no guidance from Thorne. Thorne returned it but left Ian in control. If he wanted to play for a bit, Thorne wouldn’t complain.

  The touch of Ian’s lips was hesitant after the first burst of enthusiasm, like Ian didn’t quite know what to do with Thorne now that he had him there. Thorne didn’t press, content to share lazy kisses while Ian decided what he wanted. If this was as far as he was willing to take things, Thorne would stop there without complaint. He wouldn’t spoil the mood of the moment by asking for more than Ian was willing to give.

  Ian didn’t deepen the kiss, but he didn’t stop either, running his fingers through Thorne’s hair and over his beard, tracing the line where the beard stopped and smooth skin began both on his neck and on his cheeks, and generally taking his time exploring Thorne’s face.

  The soft, almost teasing caresses were far more potent than any more sexual touch as far as Thorne was concerned. If all he wanted was sex, he could find it in any bar from here to Melbourne, but not one of those encounters would give him even a fraction of the intimacy that came from the tentative brush of Ian’s fingers over his skin.

  He set up a rhythm with his thumb, back and forth across the smooth patch of skin behind Ian’s ear. Anything else might disrupt either their continued kisses or Ian’s exploration of his face, but Thorne couldn’t stop touching entirely. He wanted Ian to feel the same blossoming intimacy that had him more overwhelmed than he’d been since he lost his virginity.

  He pushed that thought away to focus on Ian again. Memories of Daniel would only spoil the moment.

  Finally Ian sat back, looking at Thorne with lust-darkened eyes, and Thorne felt like he’d won the prize to beat all prizes. “I never knew kissing could feel like that,” Ian murmured.

  Thorne closed his eyes briefly, humbled and horrified in equal parts by Ian’s words. He had somehow earned Ian’s trust enough to be able to share this moment, and yet the years of emptiness those words represented struck him to the very core. Thorne might not have had a relationship since Daniel, but he hadn’t lived such an isolated life that he didn’t know how good a kiss could feel. “I’m happy to repeat the experience anytime you want.”

  Ian grinned at him, quick and bright. “You might regret saying that.”

  “Never,” Thorne swore.

  “The blokes at the station don’t know about me,” Ian said. “There was never a reason to tell them.”

  “Do you really think they’ll have an issue with it?” Thorne asked. “With three other gay couples living openly on the station, why would it make a difference to them?”

  “Because I didn’t trust them with it even when it was obvious it wouldn’t make a difference,” Ian said. “Michael wouldn’t tolerate slurs of any kind in his hearing, and we heard a few back then, mostly against Kami rather than about anyone being gay, because no one was open about it. The few times it came up, Michael shut those comments down just as fully as he did the racial ones, but he couldn’t control what he didn’t hear, and while Kami had his defenders in the bunkhouse, nobody said anything about the homophobic slurs.”

  “That’s not the case now,” Thorne said. “Neil warned me the first night I arrived.”

  Ian laughed, although it didn’t strike Thorne as a happy sound.

  “Yes, I’m sure he did. Neil is incredibly loyal. Almost to the point of stupidity.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Thorne asked.

  “Neil was the worst about the comments when Michael wasn’t around. When he found out about Caine, he was as nasty and cutting to him as he could be. I don’t honestly know why Caine didn’t fire him, except that he was still getting his feet underneath him at the station and so maybe didn’t feel like he had the authority to do that yet,” Ian explained. “And then we had a series of bad storms, and Neil got trapped on the other side of a gully with no way to get anywhere safe and dry. As cold as it got by the time the storms passed, Neil would have died of hypothermia if he hadn’t drowned trying to cross the gully to get home. Caine refused to lose a man, even Neil, and tied a rope around himself so he could ride across the gully to get another rope
to Neil and lead him across safely. Neil’s attitude toward Caine did a complete reversal after that, but I was never sure how much that extended beyond Caine.”

  “His brother’s gay too, isn’t he?” Thorne asked. He thought he’d got the relationships among the senior jackaroos straight, but he wasn’t completely sure.

  “Yes, and the struggle there wasn’t even because Sam was gay, but because Sam ended up falling in love with Jeremy Taylor,” Ian said. “It’s not rational, but the fear of his reaction was still there. Caine saved his life, Sam’s his brother; his loyalty would keep him from turning on them.”

  “And you’re his best friend,” Thorne said. “He tore me a new one in the field today when he thought I was taking unnecessary risks.”

  “He and Caine have that in common,” Ian said. “He wouldn’t want anyone hurt on his watch.”

  “That’s not why he yelled at me,” Thorne said. “He yelled at me because if I got hurt, it would upset you.”

  Ian opened this mouth to respond, but no words came out, only a harsh, dry cough. Thorne grabbed the cup of water and pressed it to Ian’s lips, but although he swallowed a few sips, that didn’t settle his cough like it had before. Growing worried, Thorne caught Ian’s chin in a gentle hand. “How can I help?”

  Ian fumbled for the oxygen mask hanging by his bed. Thorne helped him put it on and turned on the flow of air. He didn’t know how far the nurses had opened the valve on the tank before, but he opened it two turns, hoping that would be enough. When he was sure Ian wasn’t going to choke, he would get a nurse and have her come adjust it to the appropriate level.

  Ian’s coughing eased a little, but his eyes were still watering. “Should I get a nurse?” Thorne asked.

  Ian nodded, so Thorne rushed to the door and called for a nurse. One came in, all bustling efficiency, and set the flow of oxygen and then gave Ian another dose of something in the breathing tube. That seemed to help, but Thorne was acutely aware again of the smell of smoke on his clothes. Staying would only make Ian’s symptoms worse. When the nurse left them alone again, he squeezed Ian’s hand once. “I’ll come back tomorrow, in clean clothes this time. You should get some rest.”

  Ian frowned at him, but Thorne didn’t let that dissuade him. He couldn’t put Ian’s health at risk. He stopped at the door and turned back for a moment to appreciate how even beneath the oxygen mask, Ian’s lips were visibly swollen from their kisses, his neck and jaw slightly red from Thorne’s beard. It was a delectable look on him, and one Thorne wouldn’t mind reproducing when Ian wasn’t stuck in a hospital bed with a compromised pulmonary system.

  He blew one last kiss in Ian’s direction, feeling silly until Ian caught it and pressed his hand to his heart. He smiled and shut the door behind him. Now he just had to get through another day, and then he could come back and visit Ian again.

  Twelve

  IT TOOK a long time after Thorne left for Ian’s breathing to return to normal. His pounding heart was probably as responsible for that as anything else, but he couldn’t very well explain that to the nurse. He ran his fingers over his cheeks and around the edge of the mask, feeling the tingling that remained from the gentle scratch of Thorne’s beard. The few guys he’d kissed before coming to Lang Downs had all been clean-shaven, so that had been a revelation. He’d felt the whiskers when they kissed before, of course, but it had been so sudden and over so quickly Ian hadn’t really had time to do more than realize they were kissing before it was over. Not so today. Today Thorne had lingered over their kisses, seemingly content with the tender contact. Not once had he hinted in any way that he wanted more or that their kisses somehow weren’t enough.

  It was a good thing, too, because those kisses had been all Ian could handle without being a prelude to something more. His few fumbling forays hadn’t prepared him for the depth of emotion Thorne’s kisses evoked in him, the wonder that this magnificent man would want such a thing with him. Thorne hadn’t hurled accusations of teasing or worse at him. He hadn’t groped him. He’d simply touched Ian’s face and neck like he was the most precious thing in the world. If their first kiss had been desperate and full of fear, like Han kissing Leia before being encased in carbonite, their kisses tonight were more like their reunion after she rescued him on Tatooine: tender and full of promise.

  He’d outgrown his obsession with Han and Leia about the time he’d decided boys were more interesting than girls, but they had defined romance for him from quite the tender age. Sioned’s vision of herself and Rohan in the flames had perhaps superseded that since then, but the imagery remained with him still.

  Whichever comparison he chose, Thorne fit right into the role, a thought that warmed Ian’s heart even as it sped his pulse. He coughed a little behind his mask as his elevated pulse made breathing more difficult. As much as he wanted to dwell on the memories of the time spent kissing Thorne, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He’d have time enough to remember—and repeat—the experience when he could go for more than a few minutes without coughing.

  With a smile on his face, he picked up Dragon Prince again and allowed his imagination to replace the familiar faces of his favorite characters with the mental image of Thorne and himself.

  IAN HAD just finished lunch and had been told by the nurse to leave his mask off for a while when Molly and Dani arrived.

  “Uncle Ian!”

  Dani ran across the room as fast as her three-year-old legs could carry her, which was far faster than Ian had ever been able to explain, given how short they were. He caught her as she threw herself at him and lifted her up onto the mattress with him.

  “Hello, Danibelle,” he said. “Can I have a kiss?”

  She gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. He blew a raspberry on her neck in return, making her giggle wildly.

  “How are you?” Molly asked as she pulled the chair up to the bed.

  “Doing better,” Ian replied. “How’s everything at the station?”

  “Everything’s fine, if you don’t count everyone being worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” Ian said automatically.

  “You’re not,” Molly retorted, “or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I will be fine,” Ian amended. “They just want to keep me for another day or two until they’re sure I won’t have an asthma attack out on the station. I’m not in danger anymore.”

  “Uncle Ian sick?” Dani asked.

  “I am. I breathed in too much smoke and it made me sick,” Ian said. “But the doctors are taking good care of me, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

  “Come home today,” Dani demanded imperiously.

  “You’ll have to talk to the doctors about that,” Ian said. “I think they want me to stay a little longer. But I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

  Dani pouted, so Ian tickled her until she laughed again.

  “What are they doing about the fires?” he asked Molly.

  “They went back out to keep an eye on the hot spots,” Molly said, “but Neil seemed to think it was a precaution more than a necessity. He said the fires were out in all but a few isolated locations, and that they’d probably burn out in another day or two without any help, so as long as no new ones start, the worst has passed.”

  “Did he say… anything else?” He glanced at Dani. Neil wouldn’t have said anything about him and Thorne in front of his daughter, no matter his own feelings. He was raising her to love and accept her Uncle Sam and Uncle Jeremy without blinking. Ian had heard the brothers talking one night, and Neil had sworn to Sam he wouldn’t be the kind of father they’d grown up with. That didn’t mean he hadn’t said something to Molly in private.

  “He mentioned that Thorne might be staying longer than planned,” Molly replied. “Something about sleeping on your couch?”

  “The other choice is the guest room in the main house, and that means listening to Caine and Macklin.”

  Molly chuckled. They’d all heard stories from Chris about the challenge of s
taying down the hall from their bosses. During the day, in the sight of the jackaroos, they were completely circumspect, and if one didn’t know about them, one might miss their relationship entirely. At night in the privacy of their own home, they were apparently much less reserved.

  “Is it a good thing that he’s staying?” Molly asked.

  Ian considered his answer for a moment. The very idea of Thorne staying on his couch and in his life pushed him far out of his comfort zone, but every time he got nervous, he remembered the way they’d kissed the night before, and especially the way Thorne hadn’t even tried to do more than kiss. He hadn’t abused Ian’s trust last night, so Ian was willing to trust him a little more. “I think so,” he said finally. “I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “Just remember you aren’t doing it alone,” Molly said. “You have people who love you and who will be there if you need to talk or if you need someone to go beat him up for you.”

  “Not sure how good an idea that is,” Ian said with a laugh. “He’s pretty highly trained.”

  “Dani can take him,” Molly said. “Can’t you, sweetheart?”

  Dani put up her little fists and looked at Ian with perfect seriousness. “I take him.” She looked back at her mother. “Who I taking?”

  Ian burst out laughing, long peals of sound, until he couldn’t breathe and started choking. He wiped the tears from his eyes as he reached for the oxygen mask. Molly started to apologize, but he waved her silent. He grabbed his pad and wrote, It feels good to laugh.

  DESPITE HIS confident words to Molly, Ian was glad of some time alone after she and Dani left and before Thorne arrived. Thorne had talked about staying on the night before, had asked Ian’s opinion on the possibility, and hadn’t been put off by Ian’s concerns, but Ian had had time to think since then, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he’d come up with. Staying on the station would mean starting over completely for Thorne. Ian didn’t know if he could ride a horse or if he knew the first thing about sheep. Ian loved every aspect of life on the station except maybe shoveling out the sheep sheds in the winter, but he’d spent fifteen years listening to jackaroos complain about one aspect or another of the job. He’d watched people swear never to spend another minute on a sheep station by the end of a summer. Even if Thorne chose to stay now, it didn’t guarantee he’d stay forever. He could well end up so bored he’d decide to leave, especially if Ian couldn’t get over his own fears. What good was a relationship if he couldn’t do more than kiss his lover?