11. Asher
Chapter 11
Asher
W hat the actual fuck? This is exactly the reason I stopped sharing a bed with Dalton when I first realised I was attracted to him. We’re drawn to each other even when we’re asleep and I have no way of controlling my traitorous dick when I’m not consciously keeping it under control. I have sprung countless boners around him and always, always , kept them hidden. Well not this time!
Fuck.
I stand in the dark, cold bathroom, staring at the shadow of myself in the mirror, wondering if I can sit tight in here until help arrives. Dalton knocking on the door swiftly throws that plan out the window. The cold air making my nose tingle is another indication that I will have to leave the confines of this bathroom soon.
“Ash, come out. Everything is okay, I promise. The sun’s not even up yet, let’s get some more sleep.”
Dalton’s cum drying on my skin, is starting to itch, and my heart skips a beat as I replay the last half an hour. Embarrassment aside, it was everything I had dreamed of yet was too afraid to hope for. Where we go from here, who the fuck knows.
He knocks again, louder this time, and I huff then wrap the blanket tighter around myself before exiting the bathroom. Dalton comes up to me and pulls me into a hug, kissing the top of my head then leads me over to the mattress and all but manhandles me down onto it. With his arm over me, he reaches for my pinky and links up together. I stare at the fire, which he’s built again and watch as the flames dance together. Sleep is as far away from me as England is from our current location.
“Your thinking is too loud, it’s keeping me awake. Sleep and we’ll talk about it later.” This man, he knows me so well he can even read my silence.
The dog’s yapping wakes us hours later. The sky is still grey, snow falling steadily but the wind has died down. Dalton sits up and leans his back against the sofa, reaching for his phone.
“Any signal?” I ask, pulling on my tee. I hate that he saw me topless, I’m self-conscious of how I look. Small, hairless and pale, with freckles dotting my skin. And especially next to Dalton’s tanned, ripped abs and toned stomach. Throw in the fact that I leak excessive amounts of precum when I’m turned on and well, Dalton has now seen two parts of me that I prefer to keep hidden. Make that three if you count that fact that I’d rather he didn’t know I’m in love with him.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Looks like we’ll be here a little longer.” His stomach growls in protest and I can’t help but laugh at the entire situation.
“Let’s see what we can rustle up in the kitchen without any electricity,” I say, standing and leading the way, Beate close on my heels and Dalton not far behind her.
Dalton digs through the cupboards while I bring out two bowls and stare at the cans and packets of food I left on the counter the night before. Baked beans, soup, two packets of ramen, tinned tomatoes, a jar of sausages, a tin of peaches, tuna, olives, flour, salt, popcorn kernels, oats and a tub of honey - an array of food forgotten by previous guests.
“If you can find some form of heat source, we can have porridge for breakfast. Otherwise, I’m afraid it’s baked beans and these strange looking sausages floating in brine.” I hold the jar up to him and he scrunches his nose then returns to his searching, going to the small supply cupboard near the back door. I feed the second-to-last tin of tuna to the dog, who eats it in one go then promptly sits with an expectant look on her face.
“Yes!” Dalton shouts, pulling out a rather rusty looking camping stove and gas bottle. “We’re in luck, well only if there’s gas in here.” He places it on the kitchen counter then produces the matches from the fireplace and tries lighting the stove. With bated breath I wait as Dalton fumbles with the matches until a whoosh sounds and the flame ignites. Not knowing how long we have until the gas runs out, I hurry to make a pot of porridge.
Adding plenty of water, I grimace at the fact that we have no milk and porridge without milk is just… wet oats. Stirring the pot, I'm hit with a memory of doing something similar on a little gas stove when we were in our early teens.
“Remember that time you insisted we join the Scouts?” I stop what I'm doing to look at Dalton. He throws his head back, laughing in that open way that is so him.
“I'd never forget that! That was the first time we ever went camping. I was so sure you would hate it, but you were so enthralled by everything the Scout Leader said, I thought we'd never get you home. We had some great times as Scouts, I can’t remember why we quit.” His gaze drifts off, like he’s lost in a memory, before snapping back to me.
“Because you entered your ‘I want to be in the navy phase’ and you swapped to the Sea Scouts instead. I stayed on for a bit, but it wasn’t the same without you.” I shrug, recalling the disappointment I’d felt that day he’d told me he wanted to try something else, again.
“Do you remember that time you filled in for someone on the rugby team? What were we, fourteen?” I ask, watching my best friend fiddling with a can, tearing at the label while he thinks.
“Fifteen. That was an epic match, I was pretty damn good at it too.”
Dalton’s eyes narrow at me when I bark out a loud laugh. “You were a bench warmer! I think you saw ten minutes of time on the field, if that.” For three months after his ten minutes of fame, Dalton was convinced he would be the next Johnny Wilkinson. He joined our town’s rugby practice, got fully kitted out and then…. he discovered basketball.
Of all the things Dalton has joined, tried and thrown himself into over the years, being my best friend and playing football have been the only things to ever stick.
The porridge starts bubbling up to the edges of the pot and I stir it a while longer before adding a little more water and a glob of honey. Breakfast is going to be… interesting.
“You’re going to need to pretend this has milk in it.” I say to Dalton.
“Sounds delightful,” he replies while opening a tin of peaches. “Fruit on the side?” Dalton drops a slice of peach into his mouth, licking the syrup from his plump lips and my eyes hone in on the movement. I’m instantly drawn back to this morning when he leaned over me and pressed those same sinful lips to my stomach. I won’t forget a single moment of our tryst, safekeeping every touch and every groan.
My attention still on Dalton, I reach for the pot, not realising the flame has reached the handle, heating it to a dangerous level. “Fuck!” I exclaim, ripping my hand back from the hot metal and pulling my stinging fingers to my chest.
“Shit!” Dalton places the peaches on the counter and bounds over to me, gripping my hand between his two and pulling me towards the tap. He runs cold water over them and I wince at the pain when the coolness hits my skin.
“First you fall down a hill, now you burn yourself. What am I going to do with you?” His voice is playful and when I meet his eyes, they’re sparkling like snowflakes on a sunny day. I watch with butterflies dancing in my chest as Dalton pulls his hand up and takes my finger into his mouth, sucking on one finger than the other. His eyes don’t leave mine and I swallow thickly, my throat growing dry as he closes his eyes and sucks my finger harder. My dick perks up and I shuffle to turn my body away from him just as he opens his eyes and releases my hand.
“All better now.” Dalton smirks and returns to the pot of porridge which is now burned to a cinder. “Looks like we’re just having peaches for breakfast.” He dumps the pot in the sink and pours the tinned fruit into two bowls.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest we have sausages too, but my best friend is a big child sometimes and I can only imagine the response he’d have to that. I chuckle to myself as I follow Dalton back out to the lounge and sit next to him on the sofa.
“I’m glad I’m stuck here with you, Ash. I wouldn’t want to be trapped in a cabin with anyone else.” He smiles at me and I melt inside, unlike the snow blocking our path home.
“Same, Dalt. Even if I know I’m going to have to put up with your hangry ass soon enough.”
Dalton snorts as he eats the last of his peaches. “There’s always the sausages,” he jokes, winking at me and I laugh.
“Yeah, there’s always the sausages.”
We sit in silence for a moment, me watching the snow falling, Beate tucked up next to me. She smells like wet dog, but I don’t hold that against her - she’s just as stuck here as we are.
“Are you ready to talk about the elephant?” Dalton asks and I turn my body towards him, my brow raised in question.
“The elephant?”
“Yeah, Ash, the big, fat, ‘I-jerked-off-my-best-friend’, sized elephant in the room.” My cheeks flush at his words - and at the memory. I swallow thickly, knowing I have no way of escaping this conversation.
Fuck you very much snowstorm. Fuck you very much.