“Don’t panic. I’m highly trained in embroidery. I’ll do a fine job.”
“Oh my God.”
“If the edges were cleaner, I could use skin glue, but they’re not.”
Brock shunted away a few inches. “You don’t sound disappointed that the less painful option is not possible. Bloody hell! You’re enjoying this!”
Kyle rummaged in the first-aid kit until he found antiseptic, a curved needle and thread. “I don’t get to practice very often. The last time it was on myself and that wasn’t fun.”
“Let me see,” Brock whispered.
“What?”
“Let me see where you did the stitching. I should get to see an example before I let you stick something sharp into me.”
Several witty responses to that comment came straight into Kyle’s head but he resisted. Brock appeared pale and anxious, his brow furrowed.
“Fine.” Kyle undid his trousers, lifted his ass so he could push them down then kicked them away. He pointed to a faint white line just above his left knee. “It’s there. Got slashed with a Stanley knife.”
Brock didn’t say a word. He just stared. It took Kyle a few moments to realize that Brock wasn’t staring at the scar at all. His gaze was several inches north of where it needed to be.
“Brock.” Nothing. No response. “Lysander! Stop gawping at my fucking cock.”
“Oh. Oh! Sorry,” Brock muttered. “I got a little distracted.”
“I’ll just bet you did.” Kyle yanked his trousers back up but left the fly open a little. A bit of distraction wouldn’t hurt if it took Brock’s mind off the needle. “Give me your hand.” Kyle got onto his knees to make his position more stable. He threaded the little curved needle with a short length of thread. “I’ll swab the wound first.” He doused it in antiseptic. Brock yanked his hand away with a yelp.
“That stings!”
“It’s supposed to. Hand.”
Brock extended his arm and Kyle grabbed his wrist. “You need to keep still and not pull away. Do you think you can manage that?”
Brock nodded but he still looked pale and nervous.
“I didn’t think you’d be the squeamish type. You’ve been injured before on your travels.”
“Something else you found out during your research on me?”
Kyle gave him a sharp stare. “Yes, and I thought you’d got over the whole spying-on-you thing?”
“Sorry. I have. I understand why you did it. I’m just nervous.”
“In the last ten years you’ve broken your collarbone, cracked an elbow, dislocated a knee and broken your left wrist—twice. You’ve had stitches in your scalp and both legs. Two concussions. Various strained muscles and pulled ligaments. You can’t tell me you’re afraid of a couple more stitches?”
“Not afraid… Just a little nervous. It’s the whole lack of anesthetic and amateur stitcher scenario we have going on here.”
“Trust me.” Kyle rested Brock’s injured hand on his thigh. “You’re shaking.” He shook his head. “That won’t do.” He lowered his zipper a bit more.
Two minutes later, the job was done. Kyle nodded, satisfied with the neat stitches. “All done.”
“Oh! Really?” Brock examined his hand. “I hardly felt a thing.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable. I’m going to put another sterile patch over the top because these are hardly the most hygienic conditions in the world.” He finished dressing Brock’s hand and packed away the kit. “Now, I think we still need to have a conversation about your taste in men, don’t we?”
“Do you ever forget anything?” Brock pouted.
“No.” Kyle stretched out on one of the mats, putting the softer of the packs beneath his head. “Come here.”
Brock lay down next to him and didn’t resist as Kyle pulled him onto his chest.
“There, obedience isn’t so hard, is it?”
Brock frowned. “Is that what you want then? A meek submissive who will jump at your every command?”
Kyle gave a short laugh. “Do you think that I would find you so bloody attractive if that was the case?”
“Then what is it you want? What do you fantasize about?”
“I thought we were going to discuss your taste in men, not mine.”
Brock chuckled. “That won’t take long. Tall, dark and Dominant. Now, back to your fantasies.”
“Do you really need to ask?” Kyle felt strangely reticent about jumping into a response. He stroked Brock’s cheek, letting the slight roughness tickle his skin. Brock colored and shivered.
“Humor me. I’m intrigued, and if you go all mysterious on me, I’ll just keep plaguing you until you give in anyway.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Kyle shrugged and pulled Brock closer. “That you won’t want to be with me anymore.”
“Jesus, Kyle, how bad can it be!” Brock twisted onto his side and began to play with Kyle’s chest, tracing his muscles and brushing against his rapidly hardening nipples.
“Oh, I can be very bad. For now I think I’ll leave it to your imagination. You have an active one, so I’m sure you can come up with all sorts of interesting ideas.” Kyle swallowed as Brock flicked a nipple. He was especially sensitive there and Brock knew it.
“You could take up being aggravating as a new profession. You know that, don’t you?” Brock extracted himself from Kyle’s hold and sat up, a stubborn expression pasted on his pretty face.
He might act the innocent, but Kyle suspected that Brock had a pretty good idea of what Kyle would like to do with him. Physically Kyle was very dominant and didn’t try to hide that he relished that role. From his research, Kyle knew that Brock’s previous relationships had been on an equal footing.
“Tell me why you broke up with your previous boyfriends.” He put his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles.
“All two of them? That won’t take long. I thought we weren’t comparing lists of exes?”
“We’re not. I just want you to think about it.”
Brock’s shoulders dropped and he resumed his position curled against Kyle’s chest.
“They were both nice guys. Thoughtful, considerate… Neither of them was particularly toppy. They both liked to switch. It’s a perception thing, I suppose. I’m not exactly small and twinky, but topping does nothing for me. I’ll oblige if it gives my partner pleasure but given the choice…”
“You prefer to be held down and fucked to within an inch of your life?” Kyle queried, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” Brock said in a dreamy tone.
“Hey! Focus.” Kyle brought Brock back from whatever kinky daydream he had going on his head.
“If I must. I suppose that was the problem. I always felt that there was something lacking. Neither relationship was fulfilling for me. They were too…nice.”
“Nice… A damning word if ever there was one.”
“It wasn’t as if I even recognized my need to be submissive in the bedroom. That didn’t occur to me until I met you. I’m not naturally submissive in day-to-day life and have no intention of being that way as a general rule, but when it comes to a physical relationship… It turns me on in a way I’ve never felt before.” His voice had dropped to a whisper by the time he finished speaking.
“It’s not something you should be ashamed of, Brock.” Kyle wanted to wrap Brock up and protect him from the world.
“I’m not ashamed… A little afraid, perhaps. When you broke into my brother’s house and had me tied to that chair in my underwear…”
“Mmm. That’s a picture that will stick in my memory for a very long time.”
“Stop it! I should have been terrified. I didn’t know who you were or what you wanted. Instead, I was turned on. That can’t be normal.”
Kyle stroked Brock’s back in comforting circles. “What is normal? We hardly met in average circumstances and things haven’t been boring since, have they
? This is normal for me. Most people would freak out and run for the hills. You didn’t.”
“I saw your reactions when you had me restrained. Your icy control, your confidence… Something in me recognized a Dominant and you made me ache in all the right places.”
“Maybe my fantasies won’t scare you off then,” Kyle said. “I want to tempt you. See how far you’re prepared to go. I want to take you to places you’ve only dreamed about—and I’m not talking about more forests or caves.”
Brock propped his chin on Kyle’s chest and gazed into his eyes.
“My limits are completely untested. I’ve been further with you than with any other lover… I don’t have much experience, but I know that when I’m with you, I feel more alive even than when I’m dangling off a cliff with a camera in my hand, and that’s something I didn’t think could be beaten. But I don’t like the uncertainty of the position we’re in. What future can we have together, Kyle? Once this adventure is over, I have no idea if you’ll disappear from my life or if you’ll find a way to stick around. I don’t even know if that’s possible for you in your job. I won’t ask you to tell me one way or the other, because I’m afraid of what the answer might be.”
Kyle wanted nothing more than to hold Brock close and give him as much comfort as possible. He couldn’t give him the reassurance he needed about the future but he could try to make the present a little more bearable.
Chapter Twelve
Brock slept well—a deep, dreamless sleep prompted by fatigue and supported by the security of Kyle’s arms. He woke to the eerie half-light of dawn filtering into the cave through its curtain of water. The fire had burned away to a few blackened embers and a scattering of ash. He lay quietly for a few moments, riding the rise and descent of Kyle’s chest as he breathed and listened to the relentless pounding of the falls. The continuous sound of water reminded him of his bladder.
How does that work? Why does the noise of water always make me want to go? Every time. He extracted himself from Kyle’s grip and got to his feet, suppressing a groan as his muscles protested the movement. He did a few quick bends and stretches, then padded outside, ducking through the spray as quickly as he could. In the early light, the glade and its emerald pool were stunning. Brock found a convenient place to relieve himself then went back into the cave to fetch his camera. He moved quietly, but Kyle was already awake.
“Morning.” He yawned. “I need coffee.”
Brock grinned. “That would be your first thought—today of all days.”
“And I’ll bet yours was ‘Where’s my camera?’ wasn’t it?” Kyle looked at him expectantly.
“So, I’m predictable too. The light out there is just stunning. I won’t be long.” He grabbed his camera before Kyle’s naked chest could distract him.
“Get some water while you’re out there. I’ll rebuild the fire and get it going. I believe we have the delights of reconstituted oatmeal to tempt our taste buds this morning.”
Brock picked up the billycan and took it with him. Once he was out beyond the falls, it was hard to know where to aim his camera first. He put the can down in among some roots, then took picture after picture, delighted by the way the light reflected from so many glistening surfaces. A scurry of movement caught Brock’s eye and he zoomed in to a spot at the base of a tree, rapidly adjusting his settings. To his astonishment, a small creature—no bigger than a kitten—clung to the trunk.
“Oh my God, it can’t be!” Brock snapped off some shots and crept closer. The tiny creature didn’t run away, just stared at him with curious eyes. Farther up the trunk, another animal scratched at the bark. Brock panned upward and realized that this must be the mother of the tiny cub on the ground. “Olinguitos. I can’t believe it.” The animals seemed unperturbed by his presence. The baby was so small that Brock could have fitted it onto his palm. He was so close that he could see its tiny, curved claws and textured foot pads. It was perfectly designed for climbing trees.
Brock forced himself to move slowly backward to the cave, never taking his eyes off the olinguito baby. He desperately wanted Kyle to get the chance to see the animals too. As he reached the waterfall, he turned to find Kyle standing there, staring.
“Are those what I think they are?” he asked.
Brock nodded. “Yes! Can you believe it? A mother and baby—and they are so fearless.” The two of them stood and watched the cute little creatures as they foraged for insects and chased up and down the tree. Eventually they disappeared upward and out of sight.
“That has to be a good omen for the trip,” Brock said as he filled the billycan with water. “That was as good as winning the lottery.” He wanted to stay and see if the animals returned, but Kyle took his hand and led him back into the cave.
“Unfortunately, we have other things to do today. Let’s go and eat.”
* * * *
They had a very quick breakfast of oatmeal and chopped fruit, then packed up in silence, each preoccupied with what they had to do that day. Any kit that wasn’t needed was hidden behind rocks on one side of the cave. Apart from climbing equipment, head torch and camera, Brock was taking nothing else with him.
“You remember the plan?” Kyle asked.
Brock nodded. “Of course. Once we’ve negotiated the more dangerous parts of the route, you’ll stop while I continue on alone. That’s about halfway through the route. I get to the other side of the mountain, take the pictures and retrace my steps as quickly as possible. You’ll then pick up the relay and take the memory card back to base camp so that Jonesy can get it to a location for satellite transmission.”
“That’s right. I don’t like separating and leaving you to do the worst part of the job alone, but one of us has to conserve the energy to be able to make the return trip at speed. You can then follow at a slower pace once you’ve recovered. You can camp at the waterfall, retrieve any remaining kit from the cave and make sure that no trace is left of our presence.”
“Then I head back and meet you at base camp.”
“That’s right. Then if everything goes well, we can go home.” Kyle re-dressed the wound on Brock’s hand and stroked the sensitive skin on the underside of his wrist. Brock shivered at the contact and leaned into the searing kiss that followed.
“Be safe, Brock. I need you back in one piece.”
“I’ll do my best.” He ran his hand round the back of Kyle’s neck then reluctantly moved away.
Brock headed toward the smallest opening in the back wall of the cavern. He eyed the tiny tunnel and grinned. Kyle didn’t come across as nearly so enthusiastic.
“It’s called a wormhole,” Brock said.
“Looks more like a fucking sewer drain to me,” Kyle complained. The black entrance stood only two and a half feet high. Brock crouched and shone his head torch down the tube.
“With a backpack on, I estimate it will just be possible to crawl through these holes. It’s a good job we’re traveling light,” Brock said. He got down on his belly and squirmed into the darkness.
Kyle stood with his hands on his hips as his last view of Brock’s boots disappeared. After a couple of minutes he heard Brock shout back to him that he was good to go.
“Just wonderful.” Kyle got down on his knees and gave the cave entrance another examination. It didn’t get any better from his staring at it. His pack was bigger than Brock’s so he pushed it into the hole, then followed Brock’s example and slid forward with his arms outstretched, shoving the bag in front of him.
“Fuck, this is tight.” Rock pressed down all around. He edged ahead. He cursed as he scraped his wrist on a jagged edge and twisted his upper body. His helmet ground against the rock.
“I fucking hate small holes,” he muttered, clawing his way on. “I feel like a piece of that spiral pasta.” He wriggled his hips, losing another shaving of skin. His bag was yanked free, then he popped out of the narrow hole into a larger cavern. He rolled onto his back and looked up into Brock’s grinning face.
“Fusilli. That’s the proper name for that kind of pasta. And I thought you loved fucking small holes.” Brock put Kyle’s pack down next to him.
“Cheeky brat. My shoulders are about a foot wider than yours. I’ve lost skin in there.”
“Aw, poor baby. I think I may have broken a nail, so we’re both equally battered.”
“You realize there’s nowhere to run down here, don’t you?” Kyle rolled onto his knees and stood. “The locals call that passage the throat of the snake and we have to go back through there to get home. Some days, I hate my job.” He stretched with a groan. “I suppose you love it, don’t you?”
Brock nodded. “Don’t hate me.” His grin was enormous.
After the wrestling match with the narrow tunnel, they sat to rest for a few minutes. Brock leaned against the rock wall, then pressed his shoulder to Kyle’s.
“Switch off your head lamp to save battery life,” Kyle said. “I have spares, but the more energy we can conserve, the better.” They both switched off their lamps and a palpable blackness enveloped them.
“You’d never experience this kind of blackness on the surface,” Brock said softly. “Even in the dead of night, there’s always some light coming from somewhere. From the stars, moonlight or firelight. Your eyes adjust and you can see after a fashion. But down here, the darkness is so thick, you can hold your hand an inch from your face for as long as you like and you won’t see it.”
“You’re holding your hand up, aren’t you?” Kyle asked.
“Of course. Have to test the theory.” Brock patted Kyle’s knee.
“Well, much as I’m enjoying sitting here, admiring the color black, we should get moving.” Kyle snapped his torch back on and Brock blinked at him owlishly. Even with their powerful lights, Kyle could barely make out the walls around them. “This chamber is the size of a barn.”
“Which way do we need to go?” Brock asked.
“Up and left,” Kyle directed. He shone his lamp onto a sloping rock wall. “We go up there. There should be an opening at the top.”
Testing Lysander Page 14
