by Cecilia Tan
He’s still hesitating.
“Honesty is very important to me.” I can barely say it without cringing, knowing all I haven’t told him. I try to make it make sense. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to if it doesn’t affect us.” Us? Since when is there an “us”? “But if it’s making you flinch, I should definitely know. I thought . . .” I swallow my fear that I’m about to step wrong. “I thought you liked it when I hurt you.”
His cheeks go scarlet and he can’t meet my eyes. “I do.”
“Your hand and wrist doing okay?” I’m still angry at myself for the handcuffs.
Chase turns his hand over as if to show me it’s fine. “It was only numb that one time. But . . . other parts of me aren’t doing so well.” The way his voice drops when he says, “I’m sore,” tells me exactly which part of him he means.
I put my hand on his shoulder as relief sweeps through me. Physical damage is much easier to heal than psychological. “Didn’t I just say the other day I was worried about us getting chafed from constant sex?”
“I thought you were joking. I mean, I didn’t think it was even possible.”
I squeeze his shoulder gently. “Just because I was joking doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take it seriously.”
He’s still treading cautiously. “You’re not disappointed?”
“I’m never disappointed when you trust me.” It’s the right thing to say, but I still feel like I’m stabbing myself in the gut. “I love fucking you, but there are plenty of other things we can do.”
“Yeah?” He’s brightening up fast.
“Yeah. Strip and I’ll show you.”
I don’t undress, just get my cock out, and then I lie back on the pallet. When Chase is naked, I coax him into straddling me with his ass in my face. He’s about to receive the gentlest rimjob I can give while he sucks me until I come.
This is something I’ve never had before—someone to care for. I never had a little brother or even a subordinate lover. The closest I had was Mom, at the end, when I couldn’t really do anything for her, couldn’t actually protect her or heal her hurts. But I can take care of Chase, and with each soothing swipe of my tongue over his swollen flesh, I feel the urge to care for him growing stronger. I blow on the wetness and feel him wriggle, and then I have to lie back because the sensations reaching me from my own cock become overwhelming.
He hoovers the jizz right out of me, swallows to leave no mess, and then serves up as loving a tongue bath to my softening cock as I gave to his other end.
I pat him on the butt cheek twice to tap out and he stops, crawls around to lie beside me. I beckon him into the crook of my arm, and he pulls the sleeping bag over us. He makes a contented hum even though he hasn’t come.
“Mm-hmm,” I agree. When have I ever felt like this? Like simple affection is something so present, so huge? Possibly never. We lie still together, his bare skin pressed against my clothes, my arms around him, and it’s even more intimate than fucking him.
I don’t know how long we lie there, quiet and warm, with no anxiety or urgency forcing me to move. It’s a foreign feeling, but I enjoy the newness of it, the strangeness of it.
I surprise myself by being the first to speak. “So, ramen tastes like independence for you?”
He shifts in the crook of my arm, and I wonder if he had drifted to sleep. “Yeah, I guess it does. What does it taste like for you?”
The problem with asking questions is it invites questions. I don’t want to tell him how much Cup Noodle I ate while my mother was dying. I tell him a different, older truth. “My dad used to tell me a story. He was stationed in Japan for a while and there was ramen everywhere, but the guy who invented the instant ramen in the cup? He was a national hero. After the devastation of World War II, people were hungry. He wanted to invent something people could eat anytime, anywhere, that would give the nation the strength to survive tough times. Cup Noodle was the invention.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I used to make a tent in my room from a blanket and pretend I had survived a war and sit in it and eat Cup Noodle.”
Chase chuckles. “And you grew up to be the guy with the bunker in the woods with a stash of Cup Noodle.”
I have to laugh, too. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
His next question is more cautious, another tiptoe onto the minefield. “You were close with your dad?”
No, we weren’t close. I idolized him, but we weren’t close. We didn’t get a chance to be close. “He was killed in action,” I say. That usually closes the conversation right there.
Not with Chase, though. “How old were you?”
“Five.”
“Was he a SEAL, too?”
I am suddenly done with questions. “If you don’t let me up to piss, I’m going to soak you in it.” I’ve freed my arm and I’m getting my boots on before he can object. I can’t help but shoot back, “How’d you know I was a SEAL? I never said that.”
He cracks a smile. “Oh come on, after the way you talked smack about the Army Rangers at your Boy Scout camp?”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.” It just goes to prove that no matter what you’re trying to hide, you can’t be other than what you are. I slap him on the bare thigh. “Come on, piss time, and then dinner. Sunset’s coming.”
Time stamp: 1530 Wednesday, Ledge Island
No reply from Aiden. It’s been over forty-eight hours since I sent the proof and still no reply. I’m getting antsy, no other way to put it, but I’m trying to keep Chase from feeling it. When I’m edgy, though, I’m tough. I’ve been working him over pretty good for two straight days when night falls. We’re standing at the watch point looking for whales, but the sky has darkened early with clouds. He points across the dim water to something unmistakable, a colorfully lit party boat of some kind. It’s one of the only vessels we’ve seen in over a week that we’ve been on the island. Most likely they’re on a pleasure cruise of the coast, but my hackles rise as I wonder if it’s an elaborate cover for a SWAT team or worse.
“Some kind of corporate Christmas party,” Chase says, looking through the binoculars before handing them to me.
I look, too, wondering what he’s seen that makes him think that. As they draw nearer, I can make out people dancing through the windows of a party deck. The faint sound of a live band playing “Jingle Bell Rock” wafts across the water followed by the sounds of the boat’s engines as they pass near the island, coming about in the deep part of the bay before heading back out again.
“Can they see us?” Chase asks.
“No. We’re in the dark to them.” They must have a navigational chart that tells them not to come too far into the bay or they could run aground on our island or any number of others. “The only way to get their attention would be by radio or flare.”
“Do we have a two-way radio?” he asks.
It doesn’t feel right to lie to him. “There’s one in the storage chest, along with batteries, but it’s useless if there isn’t someone listening on the other end.”
“That’s deep,” he says with a smirk. “Hey, I’ve lost track. How many days until Christmas?”
“Some,” I say. It’s December 20th. I’m kind of counting on Aiden wanting his boy home for Christmas. If he does, he’s running out of time.
“Well, Merry Christmas,” Chase says, and puts his arms around me. He kisses me on the cheek, sweet as a Starlight mint, and I feel a momentary flush of warmth. Momentary because a second later my stomach twists again with the realization that very soon this has to end. I don’t deserve this affection. It’s all an illusion, and he’ll see that the moment I tell him.
The words stumble out of my mouth like a badly practiced lie. “M-Merry Christmas.” Does he think a kinky pickup is turning into something more? You stupid fuck, he better not be falling for you.
“You know what I want for Christmas?” His breath is warm in my ear.
“What?” I ask automatically, trying to hold my
self perfectly still in his embrace, as if that could calm the rough waters churning inside me.
“You’ll have to catch me to find out,” he says.
A second later he’s sprinting away from me, down the flat face of the rock and into the dark woods. I’m frozen for a few crucial seconds while my brain gets in gear, and then I laugh out loud, partly in glee, partly in relief. He was just lulling me with that moment of affection so he could take off like a wild thing.
Oh, yes. It’s so much better to slide into my hunter persona than to stand here being eaten alive by my worries. He wants to be chased? The chase is on.
I run after him, into the same gap in the trees he disappeared into, but I won’t try to catch up to him in the dark, even if in my fantasies I simply run and run until I tackle him to the ground, tear open his clothes, and fuck him on the spot. My blood pounds at the thought, but no, that’s not how we’re going to do this. I’m better trained than that. I head toward the cabin and the night-vision goggles. The Boy Scout motto is “Be Prepared.” I put the lube, some condoms, and a flashlight into my jacket pockets, some other stuff into a light pack on my back, and off I go on the hunt.
I’m not anticipating that it’ll take long to find him. I’m anticipating another long, warm night in the cabin. His ass is sore, but I didn’t let him come earlier. Maybe tonight will be the night I milk him mercilessly, forcing as many orgasms out of him as possible. With the NODs in IR mode, I follow the glow of his heat-emanating form through the trees. I stalk him past the lean-to copse and toward the northern tip of the island.
I’m not anticipating that as he hears me coming on the path, he’s going to break into a run again.
I’m not anticipating that as I run after him I’m going to turn my ankle, but that’s what happens. My foot goes into a hole, and down I go with a grunt. Fuck. I get myself righted and feel my ankle through the leather of my boot. Seems okay. I should’ve known better than to run in the dark, though. Infrared doesn’t show you the terrain. And Chase, what was he thinking? He could’ve stepped in this same hole.
I look around. The glow of him is gone. Time to continue the hunt.
I circle back to the lean-to to check inside it. Nope, not there. I stand at the entrance to the lean-to, listening, watching. Twenty or thirty meters west I see a fisher or something like it scurry away.
Then I see the glow. I switch to night mode to make out the outlines of the trees. The fallen spruce. He’s in the natural shelter under it.
A natural shelter that isn’t easy to escape from if you’re larger than a fisher. I move as silently as I can, the wind through the trees masking the sound of my boots against the dried needles underfoot, until I am almost there. I memorize the shape of him, crouched under the horizontal trunk, and then stow the NODs. I set my pack down. The only thing in my hand now is my Maglite.
I’m on him in a hot second, one arm around his neck, the other pressing the cold metal end of the flashlight against his temple. He freezes when he feels it.
“Is that a gun?” His voice is harsh, every word a gasp.
“Keep struggling and you’ll find out,” I say.
He goes limp and I loosen my hold. He’s still on the ground, knees tucked under him, head down. I press the “barrel” of the flashlight against the back of his head, and he asks, “What are you gonna do?”
“Punish you for running away, of course,” I say. “Can’t have my captive thinking there’s no consequences for trying to escape.”
“O-okay.” Fear or excitement makes his voice quaver.
“You sore, boy?”
A hesitation before he answers. “A little, sir.”
“Then my cock will be punishment enough.”
“Oh, God,” he says, but my blood surges at the note of desire in his voice. He’s breathy and trying to stay on script, but it comes out terribly insincere when he adds, “Anything but that.”
“Anything? You’d rather I fuck you with the flashlight again?”
He backtracks quickly. “Er, please, sir, I won’t do it again. I won’t run away again. I promise.”
Huh. This is an interesting twist on the game. “You promise?”
“Yes, yes.”
I undo my belt buckle. “See if you still want to keep that promise when I’m done with you. Get your pants down.”
I click on the light, and he keeps his eyes shut. He’s on his knees as he pushes his pants down as far as they can go and then bends over again.
If we weren’t in the middle of the spruce, if we were in the open, I’d whip his bare ass with a branch. Some other time. Right now the only thing that makes sense is this.
I examine his hole with the light. It’s less red and swollen than it was the other day. The rest has really helped him. I lube up one of my fingers and press it slowly into him.
The groan he gives is pure sex, no protest at all.
The words in my mouth won’t stay locked behind my teeth no matter how hard I try. “Good boy,” I say, stroking his hair with my other hand. His hole clenches around my finger.
“Am I?” he asks, then catches himself. We’re off script. He tries to get back on. “I mean, if I’m good, does that mean you won’t hurt me?”
I push another finger into his hole. What does he want? Does he want me to say yes or no? He gets off on being forced—I’m one hundred percent sure of that—but I can’t tell if he’s trying to change the deal here or reinforce it. “You’re my captive,” I say, trying to roll with it. “You do as I say, you stay put, I’ll treat you well.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, and his voice doesn’t sound the slightest bit fearful. He sounds fuck-drunk and I haven’t even fucked him yet. I kiss him on the back of the neck, grab a hunk of skin in my teeth, and bite just enough for him to really feel it, then kiss the spot again.
“But you ran, so here’s your punishment.” I’m not planning to come now. I’m just planning to teach him a lesson. “My dry cock.”
“Oh, God,” he says again, arching his back to angle his ass toward me.
It’s not actually dry, of course. He’s well-lubed, plus I’m leaking pre-come like crazy. I swipe the bare head up and down in the wetness, teasing him.
“Oh, God, please,” he groans, and I can hear what he means by those words. He’s begging me to put it in right like that: bare, raw, wild.
“Right like this,” I say. I want nothing more than to have my flesh join with his, no barriers between us. “I’m taking you right here, right now.”
He reaches back and pulls at my leg needily.
I wrap my arms around him from behind and push and push until I’ve speared him on my cock.
“Oh, Eric,” he gasps, and I freeze. Was that what he said? Was that my name? He doesn’t know my name. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
He didn’t say Eric. He said fuck. But adrenaline pours through me from what feels like a close call as well as the utter thrill of barebacking him like this. The wind in the trees is picking up, roaring through the canopy, and the scent of spruce is intense as I bite him on the back of the neck again. I pull all the way out and then push at him again until his body lets me in. “You’re mine, boy.”
He whimpers and starts to tremble. “Yes, sir!”
“I think you like being mine.” This doesn’t feel like role-playing anymore. I rock my hips and deepen the penetration. “I think you like it when I fuck you like this.”
“I do! Fuck, it’s so good!” It doesn’t sound like role-playing anymore, either. “So good.”
“What do you want?” I hear myself demanding it as I begin a rhythmic thrusting. I’m way off script. “What do you want?”
“This!” he screams. He’s pushing back against me, squeezing my cock as hard as he can, speeding up the rhythm. “Oh, God, this! Fuck me, take me, rock me.”
And I do. I’m fucking him hard now, extremely hard, the light on the ground beside us as I grip him with both hands, driving my cock into him as deep as it’ll go. When he start
s to scream again I don’t stop, and it takes me a while to realize that the reason he’s screaming is because he’s coming. I’ve never fucked a man so hard he came like that, but I reach around to feel the evidence for myself, catching the last few spurts of his come in my hand. I pull out, smear my cock with it, and jam it back into him. It only takes a few more thrusts before I’m adding my own semen to the mix and my own howls of lust to the rising wind.
Time stamp: 1645 Wednesday, Ledge Island
I am so spent that I literally stumble back to the cabin after that. We’ve got spruce needles in our hair like some kind of wild things, and our clothes are only partly redone as we fight to shut the door against the wind. It’s starting to feel like serious weather is coming in. When I stand back, the latch rattles in the gusts. Can’t really batten it like the hatch of a ship. I push a storage trunk against the door instead. “Good thing we finished that caulking,” I say.
“Yeah.”
I turn around to see Chase has stripped to nothing. He’s shivering but he’s standing straight. There’s dirt on his face and under his fingernails.
“Good boy,” I say. “Stoke up the fire so you’re not cold, and warm some water so I can clean you up.”
“Yes, sir.” The Boy Scout and the captive have merged into one role. One fuckable, irresistible role. Like something from a dream, from my wildest fantasies.
I get out of my clothes, too. Everything’s a little damp, and Chase hangs it all up to air out and dry, then treats the semen spots as best he can. We do the same for ourselves without an actual shower.
I’m exhausted. I want to collapse into bed with him in my arms, but I know I should check the weather.
And see if there’s a reply from Aiden.
I beckon Chase under the sleeping bag, and I feel my eyes drooping despite the urgency gnawing at the back of my head. “You sleepy?” I ask.
“Not really. Can’t sleep through all this noise.” The wind is like a train going by. He snuggles against me.
“Here. Try this.” I slip from the bed to get a bandanna. “A blindfold will help you sleep.”
