by J. M. Snyder
Ross took the tablet, because it was easier than trying to bridge the gap between himself and Ash. The house shook again as another gust of wind blew against it, and the lights flickered for a second. The electricity held, though, and he settled in to read.
Ash had a pretty eclectic mix of reading material. He had books Ross couldn’t read at all—books in Arabic and in Spanish, for example. He had books about the countries where he’d worked, where he’d been. He had some books about war, about politics. Evidently, he’d written some books about politics too, which Ross hadn’t known.
“Holy crap. You’re famous and stuff.” He huffed out a little laugh and opened one of Ash’s books.
“Hardly. There isn’t a huge market in the US for books about the war in Yemen, or about the long-term repercussions of the civil wars in El Salvador or Guatemala.” Ash yawned. “There’s a market, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not huge. I’ve contributed to a few panel discussions on national shows, which was interesting, but it’s not huge.”
“Do you think that’ll be a stepping stone for you?” Ross bit his lip. “I mean do you see yourself moving on to a national anchor position eventually?”
Ash considered. “I wouldn’t say no, I don’t think. I don’t know. We’ll see how I do with this job. It’s a huge shift. Imagine moving from your job now to, say, the guy who sits at the front desk and smiles at people all day. It’s an important job, yeah, but it’s completely different from the job you’ve been doing and it might not be a job you’re well suited for, you know?”
Ross nodded slowly. “I guess I can see that. The anchors aren’t necessarily journalists, I guess.”
“Exactly. But at least I’ve still got a job. I’ll see where it leads.” He made a face, and then laughed at himself. “I mean hey, I already found myself facing down certain death on the side of the road, right? I guess it’s not that different.”
Ross hummed. The thought of Ash in danger left him cold and short of breath. He had to change the subject. “It’s funny, though. I mean I know you were in school for journalism and everything, but it seems so weird that you’re just now settling down to a home base.”
Ash blushed a little. “I guess. A lot of guys had them, and it would have been okay to have one too, I guess. There just wasn’t anything to hold me anywhere, you know? I expected to be based out of my family’s place in California, but after I got outed that fell through. And what’s the point in paying rent on an apartment when you’re never going to be there?”
“Well, I mean I figured you’d have someone.” Ross swallowed hard. He’d tried to get out of one awful subject and jumped right into another. “You know, to go home to.”
Ash tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if you’re serious about that or not. I’m going to go with not, for my own sanity.” He blinked and turned back to his computer.
Ross pursed his lips and closed Ash’s tablet. “Well, I mean you were always the one who wanted to be in something long term and steady. Isn’t that why we broke up?”
Ash’s laugh was surprisingly bitter. “We broke up because you wouldn’t be with someone who wasn’t out, and I wasn’t about to lose my family and everything associated with them to be one of your stable of dudes. Sorry.”
Ross flinched. “You really see it that way?” His gut ached.
“That’s how it was, Ross. And I kind of understand why. You didn’t want to have to hide who you were. That’s reasonable, you know? You wanted to feel free to show affection to your partners. I wanted that too, it just wasn’t possible. Do you think I wasn’t furious every time I had to watch you kissing George, or with your arm around Mike like it was no big deal, knowing I couldn’t have that?”
Ross looked down. “It wasn’t a big deal. I mean they all knew you were my number one, you know? I was just an affectionate guy. I needed to be with someone who could be affectionate back. I needed to be with someone who could actually share my life. And we were young! There wasn’t anything wrong with having an open relationship!”
“There was for me.” Ash’s voice was quiet. Then he looked away. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. It’s all water under the bridge, right? Whatever the reasons, it’s over. We obviously weren’t right for each other, and whose college relationship really lasts past graduation anyway?”
Ross snorted. “I always thought we would.” He rubbed at his temples. “I thought we’d last forever, honestly.”
Ash cackled. “Dude, you dumped me. Dropped me like a hot rock.” Porthos pawed at him, and he patted the dog with a little smile. “Do we have to go here, man? It doesn’t change anything. It just rehashes old hurts, in a place we can’t get out of for at least another full day. Is that really what you want to do here?”
“I guess not.” Ross grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow some of that toothpaste? It’s been more than twenty-four hours and it feels like something crawled in there and died.”
“Go for it.” Ash waved his good hand toward the bathroom. “I left it in there.”
Ross escaped to the bathroom and used his finger to brush his teeth. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing, and it was all an excuse anyway. He just needed to get away from Ash for a minute, away from this man who’d stolen his heart years ago.
Christ. He still needed to push this issue. Their kiss hadn’t been enough for him. He still wanted more. Was that why he wanted to keep pushing? Was it because he wanted Ash to try again? Things were different now. They were both older. Ross didn’t need to have an open relationship anymore—he was okay with it, but he didn’t need it. Ash was out, for better or worse.
He hadn’t thought about trying again with Ash until they’d spoken. He hadn’t even recognized Ash when he’d seen him. He couldn’t just sit there and pretend as though getting back together had been his plan from the beginning, that would be silly. This was his body talking, and his brain looking to justify it.
His brain was more than on board, though.
He shuffled back out into the main room. “Well, I’m beat.”
Ash chuckled. “Yeah. It’s been a long day of sitting around and waiting for the snow to stop. I’m beat too.” God, Ash’s face was still so expressive, even after all this time. “You want to take first shift? You let me have the blanket last night.”
Ross bit the inside of his cheek. “We don’t need to do this in shifts, Ash. We’re grown men. We’re hardly strangers. It’ll be more comfortable if we do this together anyway.”
Ash looked away. “Do you really think this is a good idea, Ross?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. We’ll be warmer this way, which will make us sleep better and longer. Which will help to kill some of the time until we get rescued.”
Ash looked at him for a long moment, and then he sighed. “I guess you’ve got a point.” He unfolded their blanket. “I’ll let you get ready. I’m going to go and take Porthos outside for a second.”
Ash and the dog disappeared toward the rear of the house. They returned a few moments later. Ash got rid of his shoes and lay down on his good side, with his back to Ross. He was as stiff as a corpse, and he didn’t move an inch.
Ross lay there for a few seconds. “Are you okay? Should we turn off the light?”
Ash huffed a little laugh, but otherwise ignored the first question. “I think we should leave it on. If they send out a rescue party, I’d rather they saw the light on than off. At least then they know we’re here, you know?”
“Makes sense.” Ross paused. “So, you going to relax, or what?”
“That’s easier said than done, don’t you think?” Ash sighed, just a little, and pulled his legs up. “I mean it’s not like this is normal for us.”
“It’s not like we’re strangers either.” Ross tried to swallow his hurt. “I used to know just how to get you to relax. Remember that?”
Ash huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
> Ross took another chance. This was a big one. Ash might punch him. The dog might bite him. Ash might run into another room and shut the door. As Ross reached his arm around Ash’s waist and kissed his neck, he pushed all of those possibilities from his mind. He could do this, if he focused only on Ash. He focused on the scent of Ash, on the way Ash’s taller, more muscular body felt in his arms. He concentrated on the way that more muscular body lost so much of its tension as Ross mouthed at those old erogenous zones.
Ash pressed back against him, moving into Ross’ body with a little sigh. Porthos grumbled and moved across the room. Ross smirked. Clearly the dog was on board. He kept mouthing at Ash’s neck and slid his hand under Ash’s shirt.
Ash didn’t stop him. In fact, Ash whispered a soft little “Yeah” as Ross explored the flesh hidden underneath. He craned his neck, to expose more of it to Ross’ mouth and stretched so Ross could have more access. Ross loved that. Ash had always done that, offered himself up like that. It was good to know some things didn’t change.
Other things did. Ash’s body had once been as smooth as silk. Ross’ questing fingers trailed over the body that had once been so familiar to him, and now he found new furrows on the broad plains he’d once known. These were scars, and Ross had no idea where they’d come from. Some made sense, given what he knew about Ash’s story. Some implied other dangers, other close calls. Ross wanted to ask, wanted more details. He needed to know about everything that had happened when he hadn’t been around to keep this incredible man safe.
He had no right to that information, none at all. He traced the tips of his fingers along each and every inch of skin he could find. Scars or no, this was Ash, and he was going to make Ash feel like a million dollars, no matter what. Ash was feeling it, too. Ross could see it in the way he rolled onto his back, wedging himself underneath Ross. His pants were tented, not unlike Ross’ own. Their cocks rubbed against one another, just the slightest contact through their pants, and Ross hissed.
He reached for Ash’s fly. “Can I?” When Ash nodded, eyes mere slits, he shook his head. “I’ve got to hear you say it, Ash. I have to be sure.”
“Yes.” Ash swallowed hard, but he made eye contact. “Yes, please.”
Ross unzipped Ash’s khakis and pushed them down, along with his briefs. He made short work of his own, too. He didn’t have any condoms or lube with him, and he didn’t want to break the spell of this moment. Instead, he grabbed both of their cocks together in one hand. He jerked them both together, keeping Ash’s eyes locked with his. This was enough for him, for now. It was more of Ash than he’d had in years. The look of astonished wonder on Ash’s beautiful face—rounded lips, half-closed eyes, pure bliss—was beautiful enough for him.
Little thrusts from both of them settled into a kind of rhythm, building heat and intensity. This was exactly what had been missing from Ross’ life all these years. This was everything he needed. When his orgasm washed over him, like a wave, he gave into it without fighting. Ash cried out softly, burying his face in Ross’ shoulder. Ross wasn’t the only one who needed this.
When it was over, they lay together for a moment. Then Ash sat up and grabbed a hand towel from his bag. He cleaned himself up quickly and passed the towel over to Ross. Ross followed suit and wrapped his arms around Ash again.
They would last longer the next time. Maybe being stuck in the abandoned house would be the best thing for them.
* * * *
Ash woke up in Ross’ arms. He was warm and he was safe, and for a few beautiful minutes he was home again. Porthos was curled up against his belly, and that just made everything more perfect. He didn’t need more than this from life. Okay, an actual bed might be nice, and food. But this unit right here, with a roof over his head and the silence of a peaceful and stable environment—it was all he needed.
Once he might have thought he needed more. He’d had dreams of building fame as a correspondent. Ash Machado, he’ll get the story. His family would hear about him, all the stories he’d covered and everything he’d seen, and they’d love him again. They’d understand he couldn’t help who he was, and they’d welcome him back with open arms.
He’d achieved most of that. He’d seen things most of them couldn’t dream of. He’d done things, covered stories, most journalism students only heard about. Still, Ash was alone, except for the dog. When Ash’s life had hung by a thread, the only one who cared had been Porthos. Even this, this moment of bliss with Ross, was just an illusion.
Ross hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to Ash, not once in all the years since their breakup. He hadn’t recognized Ash when he saw him. He hadn’t checked social media or anything, not even in a moment of curiosity, to find out what Ash was up to. Last night had been incredible, the first time Ash had done anything even remotely sexual since the bomb went off, but it didn’t change anything.
Ross would have been perfectly content to go the rest of his life without ever seeing or hearing from Ash again. That was fine—Ash hadn’t exactly been pining away. But he couldn’t sit here and pretend that one night of pleasure meant he had a home now, or that he was part of something. An accident of nature and a car wreck didn’t exactly make true love—even if it was a beautiful fantasy.
He disentangled himself from Ross’ arms. The guy had always been an octopus when it came to cuddling. Funny, Ash used to put all sorts of meanings onto those tendencies when they’d been together. The way Ross clung to him in his sleep made Ash feel special, and cherished. He was older now, and he understood more. Ross wasn’t clinging because he wanted to keep Ash close. He did it with everyone and he probably just liked having a heat source close by, kind of like a lizard.
He eased himself to his feet and fed Porthos. He might have screwed everything else about his new life up already, but this was different. He’d taken care of Porthos.
Once Porthos was fed, he let him out to do his business and headed inside. He took some time to clean up, since he had his shower kit with him. Poor Ross didn’t even have that. Well, he was welcome to use Ash’s. They’d have to share a towel, which could be uncomfortable, and he’d have to put the same clothes back on, but at least he could wash up.
He tried not to look at the scars while he scrubbed. He’d noticed Ross touching them last night, but it had felt so good just to have someone touching him anywhere he hadn’t said anything. What had Ross been thinking? Nothing good, most likely. Scars didn’t feel great to the touch. They looked even worse. Not all of them came from the bomb. Plenty of them came from other incidents, other little encounters, and mishaps along the way.
He’d survived. He had to keep reminding himself of that. It didn’t matter how they looked. Under clothes, no one could see them anyway. He finished washing, dried himself off, and went out to face the day.
Ross was awake by the time he got back. He looked over at Ash and gave him a grim little smile. “I would cheerfully kill someone for a cup of coffee right now.” Then he made a face. “It looks like the worst of the storm is probably over. We’re still getting snow, but it’s light snow without winds instead of the kind of nor’easter crap we were getting.”
Ash sat up a little straighter. That was a good sign, right? He ignored the little pang in his chest. It wasn’t relevant, and he was just pining for something that wasn’t real. “So, we’ll be out of here soon? Maybe they’ll bring a thermos on the rescue truck.”
“Cute. Not likely, and don’t go getting ahead of yourself. It’s going to be a very long time before we can get anywhere. They’ve got to deal with all the obstacles between there and here first, and there’s more than one or two. In addition to the one tree I told you about before, there are cars that got stuck and abandoned, and there’s a big wreck farther down the road, that just got left there to deal with after the storm ended.”
Ash couldn’t respond to that in any way other than blinking. There was a story there, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t get out to cover it. “Um. I have to assume they got
the people out?”
Ross rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands into his pockets. A little grin played around the edges of his mouth, like he wanted to laugh. It was such an adorable look on him, Ash wanted to kiss him. He didn’t.
“Yeah, they had enough time to get people out. Living and deceased, I should point out. They decided to leave the wreckage where it was because the roads were shut down anyway, and it wasn’t worth risking the tow drivers’ life and limb to try to get it out of there. This is Massachusetts, Ash, not Yemen or wherever you’ve been. We do care about human life here.”
Ash ducked his head. Sometimes human life had seemed cheap in some of the places he’d been recently. War, and constant exposure to war, could do that. “Right. So basically, sit tight and wait.”
“I can think of a few ways to kill time.” Ross wagged his eyebrows.
Ash sighed and turned his head away. He didn’t need a translator to figure out what Ross meant by that. Parts of him wanted to take him up on it, too. He had condoms and lube right there in his bag—not that he’d thought he had much hope of finding someone, but both items had alternate uses and a guy never knew when they would come in handy. He had to think of his own mental health, though. He had to do what was right for himself in the long term, and not for short term gratification.
“We shouldn’t.” Ash sat down near his computer and his equipment. They created a wall of safety, or at least of good sense, around him.
Ross frowned, and then he tilted his head. He stepped closer to Ash. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”
“I didn’t mind last night.” The words fell out of Ash’s mouth, like water spilling from a tilted glass. He would have stopped them if he could, but he knew he didn’t have a chance in hell. “I wanted to—a lot. That doesn’t mean it was a good idea.”
