On Solid Ground

by Quinn Anderson

  He hoped Marci and her girls had made it to safety. He hoped Sam and Pat and Lisa and that one woman whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn were all right. He hoped Kit’s cat was safe, that everyone’s pets and loved ones were safe. Most of all, he hoped all his hoping did some good, instead of just making him feel worse.

  “Has anything changed?” Kit appeared in the doorway and walked around the desk to see the screen.

  Despite everything, Chance warmed at the sight of him. “Nothing much. It’s still hell out there, and we’re still trapped in here.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  Chance waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, Chance took the initiative. “Kit, we need to talk about— Holy shit.”

  Kit jerked his head toward him. “What? What is it?”

  “Look! Look at the TV!” Chance jabbed a finger at the screen. “That’s our street! That’s our building!”

  The camera panned over an eagle-eyed view of a stretch of city center. Chance recognized it instantly. He drove those roads every day on his way to work. They were largely obliterated, but a few had been cleared, and on them were fire trucks, ambulances, and construction vehicles. A voice-over explained that teams of officials and volunteers were checking the buildings for survivors.

  “Holy shit,” Kit echoed. He looked back and forth between the TV and Chance, eyes growing wider with each pass. “Rescuers are coming. They could find us today.”

  Chance was so overcome with relief, he got up and threw his arms around Kit. “I’d say I always knew they’d find us, but that would be a lie.”

  Kit wrapped him up in his arms and rested his forehead against Chance’s. “I know. I wanted to believe it, but after everything . . .”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to celebrate until—”

  The ground rolled beneath them.

  The walls cracked. The ceiling crumbled and rained down around them like confetti. The hope Chance had felt not moments before was ripped from his chest. It dug its claws in as it left, shredding his insides.

  Not again. Ice water flooded into Chance’s veins. Please, not again.

  The shaking brought them to their knees. They grasped onto each other as the building collapsed around them. There was too much dust in the air for Chance to open his eyes, but he heard something shatter next to him. Then something splintered. Out in the hall, it sounded like a bus had plowed its way through the building.

  Chance didn’t need to look to know what had happened. It sounded just like before, back on the eleventh floor. The hallway outside had collapsed.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, the whole building shuddered and then swayed, as if a breeze could knock it down.

  It was over as quickly as the others, and yet this one was so much worse for the emotions it brought with it. Despair, and skin-prickling familiarity. Chance shuddered to think that he was getting used to this.

  For a long moment after, they didn’t look up, didn’t let go of each other. They knelt, covered in plaster and dry wall, and breathed together.

  Eventually, Kit’s vise-like grip started to hurt, and Chance squirmed. He kept his eyes shut as he eased back and shook himself off. When he looked around, all he saw were nightmares and worst-case scenarios.

  The TV had fallen off the desk and cracked, removing their last window out into the world. The bottle of Scotch they’d shared was now shattered on the ground, soaking into the dust. The hallway outside had collapsed, exactly as Chance had suspected. They were more trapped now than ever.

  Chance’s heart rate refused to return to normal even now that the ground had stopped shaking. He couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the fact that they were still alive. They wouldn’t be for very much longer.

  “The building won’t survive another aftershock.”

  Chance didn’t realize he was speaking until he heard his voice echo down the remnants of the hall. He swallowed, his throat dry once again from the particles in the air. “I heard on the news that they’d expected one last night. Guess it waited until morning.”

  Kit raised his head, and bits of ceiling fell out of his hair. “Did they say if there would be more?”

  “There was no if. There was only when.”

  Kit let out a breath. “I guess we need to face facts. If we’re still trapped in this building when the next aftershock hits, it’s over. It doesn’t matter how close the rescue teams are to finding us. They’ll find a collapsed building, and if we’re lucky, our bodies. This could be our last day on earth.”

  His words should have sent Chance into a panic. They should have made Chance collapse onto the ground and cry like an infant. But instead, they filled him with a sort of fever.

  Chance could feel every sinew in his body. His heart beat so hard in his chest, he was certain it was going to break free. He looked Kit dead in the eye. “How do you want to spend it?”

  Something between them broke—shattered—and suddenly, they were kissing again. Kit wrapped a large hand around the back of Chance’s head and held him in place as he pressed their mouths together. Chance took a handful of Kit’s wrinkled shirt and gave back with everything he had. Lips—chapped and rough—moved together frantically, and flashes of tongue and teeth made them both gasp.

  When Chance moved to slide his arms around Kit and deepen the kiss, Kit did the worst thing imaginable. He pulled away.

  “Hold on.” He was gasping for breath. “Slow down. I can’t. Not like this.”

  “What? Why?”

  Instead of answering, Kit pushed away and got to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes as if that made them any less ruined.

  Chance scrambled after him. “Kit, talk to me. I’m not going to spend my last hours being ignored.”

  That got his attention. Kit whipped around, a wealth of emotion in his dark eyes: uncertainty, hesitance, and deep, deep longing. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m sorry. It’s just, if I keep kissing you, I won’t stop.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chance struggled to make sense of Kit’s actions. “Are you pulling away because we might die? I understand, believe me, but this could be our last chance.”

  “It’s not that.” He laughed humorlessly. “It should be that. Sex should be the last thing on my mind right now, but it’s not.” Kit paced the length of the office, hands on his head like he was contemplating pulling his own hair out. After several deep breaths, he turned around and stopped right in front of Chance. “There are some things I need to know.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  Kit opened and closed his mouth.

  Chance’s patience ran out. “Whatever you’re not saying, will you please say it already? If the earthquake doesn’t kill me, frustration might. There’s something between us, Kit. You can’t tell me there isn’t.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Then what’s the problem? We’re here. Right now. This is our last shot. Why won’t you be with me?”

  As soon as the words left Chance’s mouth, he was terrified of the answer. If Kit said it was because he didn’t feel as strongly as Chance did, it would break him. Or if Kit admitted he was only acting out of fear and desperation. Chance wouldn’t need another aftershock to send him reeling. He held his breath and did his best to brace himself.

  Luckily or unluckily, Kit’s answer wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

  “Because I’m the reason you’re stuck here!” Kit’s face contorted with guilt and anger. “You’ve been too kind to say it, but I know it’s true. You didn’t get out when you had the chance because of me. I should have made you climb out that exit. But I didn’t, and now you’re trapped here. It kills me, because if I’d been honest about who I was from day one, we could have been together. We could have had time.”

  Chance started to interrupt, but Kit was on a roll now. Words poured from him in a torrential flood.

  “I’ve been trying to be the brave man you think I am, but the fact is, I�
�m terrified. Not only for me, but for you too. I’m worried we won’t get out of here, but I’m also worried that if we do, I’ll go back to being exactly who I was before: the suit who can’t even tell the people he works with that he’s gay. I admire you and your honesty too much to make you put up with that.”

  Chance almost took a step back. “Kit . . . you . . .”

  Kit interrupted him. “I have feelings for you, Chance. Real feelings. Feelings that started long before we got stuck here. I’ve liked you since the day I met you, and my feelings have grown every day since. I never acted on them. I was a coward, and I needed you to know that before this went any further. Now you can decide if I’m really who you want to spend your last day with.”

  Speechless, Chance stared openly at Kit. It wasn’t that Kit’s confession was overly surprising, but the passion with which he said it made Chance dizzy.

  Kit was breathing hard. He seemed taller than before, like his speech had lifted some burden off his shoulders, and he was now free to stand up straight. He swallowed and stared down at his feet. “Please say something.”

  Chance was stunned. More stunned than he’d been when the earthquake first hit. More stunned than he’d been during any part of the aftermath.

  “You . . .” He had to take a breath before he could complete the sentence. Thoughts flitted through his head so fast they left him reeling. “Kit, is that why you’ve been holding back this whole time?”

  “More or less.” Kit shrugged, looking miserable. “I also needed to figure some things out on my own, and I wasn’t sure what you were feeling. Plus, you know, imminent death.”

  Chance wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “If it’s any consolation, I was convinced you didn’t have real feelings for me. I thought it was the earthquake driving us together. Making you do things you wouldn’t do otherwise. I thought you only kissed me because you’re scared of dying.”

  “What?” Kit’s head jerked right back up. “You think this whole thing—all of the emotions between us—is some kind of adrenaline high?”

  “Not entirely.” Chance swallowed hard. “I think there’s always been something between us. But I was kinda waiting on you to make a move, and when you didn’t, I figured there had to be a reason. Then when you opened up last night, I thought it was alcohol and desperation. People act differently when they’re stressed.”

  “Chance, I don’t know what to say. That’s not what was going on at all.” Kit searched his face, looking as shocked as Chance felt. “I told you how I feel. Are you saying you feel the same?”

  Chance’s head swam with all the things he wanted to say at once.

  Finally, he settled on something. “Kit Gibbons, the past twenty-four hours have been some of the worst in my life. I’ve feared for my safety, I’ve feared for others, and I’ve lain awake at night wondering if my loved ones are dead. If they think I’m dead. And the only thing that’s made this bearable is you.”

  He paused, anticipating an interruption, but Kit was silent. He hurried to finish what he needed to say before Kit rallied. “You’re not the coward here: I am. I’ve let uncertainty and insecurity stand in the way for far too long. I want you, Kit. Because you’re you. Going through this with you has made it obvious to me that if this is my last day, there’s no one I’d rather spend it with.”

  Kit’s face was caught somewhere between delight and suspicion. “You mean it?”

  “I’ve thought about asking you out a hundred times, and if I die today, the only thing I’ll regret is that I never did.” Chance hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping closer. “You really had feelings for me before all of this happened?”

  “Of course I did. Since before we talked at that party, even. From the first time you ever said hi to me in the hall. You did for me too?”

  “Are you kidding me? I don’t know if you’ve seen you, but Jesus, Kit. You’re gorgeous. And sweet. And funny. And brave, no matter how much you say you’re not. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Chance shook his head. “I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you. So many opportunities wasted.”

  Kit blew out a breath that had a hint of a laugh in it. “I used to think about asking you out all the time. I didn’t because I was afraid of what people might think. How pathetic is that?”

  “It’s not pathetic. But it was a mistake, on both our parts.” He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “We’re lucky enough to have a chance to correct it.”

  “Yes.” Kit stepped even closer. “What do you want me to do, Chance?”

  They were inches apart, both breathing hard. The air between them was charged with emotion and need.

  Chance reached up and touched Kit’s face. “Kiss me.”

  And Kit did.

  It was nothing like when they’d kissed before. When Kit had woken up without him, his kiss had been powered by relief. When they’d kissed after the aftershock, it’d been because of fear. But this? This was pure passion. It stole the breath from Chance’s lungs. He never wanted it to stop.

  Kit crowded close to him, backing him up until he bumped against the desk. Chance couldn’t stop touching him: his face, his hair, his body. He slid fingers down Kit’s chest and grabbed hold of his waist. Kit wrapped him up in a tight embrace, like he never intended to let him go. Kit nudged Chance back until he was sitting on the desk. Then Kit stepped between his legs, closing the last of the distance between them.

  It was a wonderful sort of agony, feeling like they had all the time in the world to kiss, but knowing that they didn’t. God only knew how much time they had left. They had to make the most of it.

  Kit seemed intent on doing precisely that. His hands were everywhere: in Chance’s hair, stroking his sides, pushing his shirt up to get at his bare skin. Before Chance could react, Kit pressed against his torso with his body, prompting him to lie back. Chance did, and Kit followed him down until they were half lying, chest to chest. He never stopped kissing him for even a second. His hands found their way to Chance’s hips and gripped him tight.

  Suddenly, Chance was hot from more than the humid air. As Kit’s warmth seeped into him, it was all Chance could do to keep from melting.

  He broke the kiss only to skim his lips down Kit’s neck. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”

  Kit shuddered and angled his head to give Chance more room. “Which part? I told you things last night I’ve never shared with anyone.”

  “I mean about what turns you on. How you like to have sex.”

  At the word, Kit made a rough noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah?”

  Chance mouthed his stubbly jawline before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Show me.”

  Kit wet his lips. “That’s what you want?”

  “You are what I want, and I want you exactly how you said.” Chance rubbed their groins shamelessly together, hot and needy. “Pin me down. Cover my body with yours. Fuck me.”

  Kit made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl and flexed his fingers on Chance’s hips. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. I’d give you anything, Chance.”

  Chance didn’t hesitate. “I want you. Just you. Until the end.”

  Kit moaned, soft and low—Chance felt it in his bones—and nodded. “You have me.”

  8:08 a.m., Tuesday, August 14th

  Kit couldn’t imagine less sexy circumstances. They were both exhausted, terrified, and a little hungover. Neither of them had showered in a full day, and after all the sweating and having ceilings fall on their heads, it showed.

  And yet, never in Kit’s entire life had he wanted someone more.

  He could feel it in his teeth, he wanted Chance so much. After everything they’d been through together—after everything they’d learned about each other, good and bad—all Kit wanted was to be as close to Chance as possible. Especially now that he knew Chance felt the same way.

  Chance was warm beneath him. Kit couldn’t stop moving against him, he loved
the feel of him so much. In the back of Kit’s mind, he knew there was a good chance the desk was going to collapse beneath them if they had sex on it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be with Chance, even if they were half buried in rubble. Even if the building came down around them.

  “Kit,” Chance breathed against Kit’s neck. His lips found the underside of Kit’s jaw and mouthed it. “It feels so good to finally touch you.”

  Kit moaned and rolled their hips together. “It’ll feel a lot better when we get all this clothing out of the way.” He slipped a hand down to Chance’s pants and palmed him. Kit’d been turned on before, but when he felt the outline of Chance’s cock through the soft material—hot and hard and straining against it—a fresh wave of arousal swept through him.

  At the touch of Kit’s fingers, Chance arched up. “Oh fuck.”

  Kit stroked Chance through the fabric, loving the way he squirmed and all the little sounds he made. “Your reactions are delicious.”

  Chance panted for breath and shut his eyes as he rocked against Kit’s hand. “Sorry. Can’t help it. Feels so good.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” Kit bit back a gasp as he watched Chance. “It’s really hot. I can make it better, though. Hold on.” He withdrew his hand. Chance immediately whined, but Kit got to work opening Chance’s pants and pushing them down. When Kit slid a hand into his underwear, Chance’s whine turned into a long groan of pleasure.

  His cock was just the right thickness. Kit was able to make a nice, loose fist around it. Within three strokes, Chance was incoherent. He had his palms flat against the desk, head stretched back, eyes clenched shut. His shirt had lost a button and was lying open across his flat stomach. Kit wanted to see that stomach painted with Chance’s come, but it would have to wait for next time. He had other plans right now.

  Chance seemed to have the same idea. As Kit stroked him, he hooked a leg around Kit and pulled him closer. When he was in range, Chance reached for Kit’s fly and fumbled with it. It took some doing—no surprise, since he couldn’t stop rocking against Kit’s hand—but he got the pants undone.