Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
C amping.
Sloan couldn’t believe Lance had agreed to go camping, but after three weeks of them going out on dates, Lance had agreed to try it.
They’d opted for a cabin at Cooper Lake rather than roughing it in a tent or in his truck, because that was easier on their bones, and better for Abby.
The place was rustic, but clean, and it had taken Lance about an hour to figure out where all the stuff was. The bathroom was fab, with the whole thing kind of being the shower, the toilet cut off by a little partition wall, but very accessible.
Hell, even the guys in the wheelchairs could come here.
Maybe he would suggest a weekend trip with all the housemates to Lance.
He glanced over at Lance, who was lounging against him as they listened to an audiobook and ate Cheez-Its.
So no suggesting anything right now but kissing orange crumbs from Lance’s lips.
Lance had spent almost every night at his house unless Sloan was at work .
He’d been very careful to let Lance take the lead.
At first it had been just sleeping together—with space between them, then with Lance cuddled into his side.
The next step had been when he’d asked if it was all right if he took his shirt off because it was warm in the house at night.
Then he discovered Lance came to bed one night without his shirt on.
He didn’t comment on the scars. Lance didn’t comment on his hard-on when they snuggled together in the bed. Fair was fair.
Then Lance’s pajama pants had become shorts. Little PT shorts that didn’t hide anything. It had been so easy for Sloan to do the same.
When Lance had reached over to explore his scars, his heart had damn near jumped out of his chest.
Now they were in the woods, alone, the heavy clouds promising rain.
Lance yawned, and he grinned, shutting off the book. “We had a busy day.” They had taken Abby swimming after the drive over to the state park. It had been awesome to see Lance wade in, allowing himself to be vulnerable. “Want to head to bed early?”
“That sounds great, babe. Let’s let Abby out and secure the food.”
“Deal.” Sloan rose, then touched Lance’s shoulder so Lance could grab his hand.
Lance’s fingers twined with his. “I don’t guess you want to… I don’t know. Explore our options in bed.”
Sloan blinked. “Are you talking about switching sides? I mean, I don’t mind, I just don’t want to misunderstand.”
“Switching sides. I guarantee you I’m still not into boobs.
” Lance rolled his eyes, and a quick little grin twitched those pretty lips.
Sloan could see Lance’s nervousness now.
“I can’t guarantee you that anything will come of it, but it’s been a long time since we’ve been together and naked in a bed. ”
“Fucking eons. Hell, even when we were both—” He wanted to say whole, but he knew that was a bad idea. “—younger. Having you and me together naked in a bed in the same bed was a rarity.”
“Yeah, no shit on that. Well, I’m willing, and I want desperately to try and be able. Like I said, even if nothing comes of it. Pun intended.”
“I’m interested.”
“I am too.”
And somehow he was supposed to remember how to walk and put food away and let the dog out when every bit of blood he had in his brain had evacuated and was heading south with a fierce determination.
Lance had always been able to do that to him. Say something that felt innocuous but somehow was hot as the hinges of hell.
He took a deep breath. Right. Okay. Food and dog. “I want that, honey. I’m hard as a rock. I hope that’s okay.”
“It is. As long as you’re okay with it if— if I can’t get as happy.”
“I’ll take anything I can get, Lance.”
Sloan personally thought Lance was too worried about whether or not he could get it up.
Sloan wasn’t stupid. He’d felt that sweet cock, rising to meet him in the middle of the night and in the morning. He hadn’t touched, because he hadn’t been asked, but it all worked.
It was just up to Lance now, whether or not he was ready for it to do what it needed to.
And Sloan meant it. He didn’t care. He didn’t. He gave no shits.
He wanted Lance. He wanted hot monkey sex. He wanted slow crazy-making sex. He wanted heavy petting and making out and blow jobs and hand jobs and jobs that he didn’t even know were occupations.
Sloan needed Lance.
This was so much more than sex. It wasn’t about fucking.
This was about being in love. This is about knowing that he had his person.
That he had the man he talked to. Who knew his stories.
Who wanted to make more stories with him.
The one who understood that life was hard, except for the times when it was easy.
Rough, except for the times that were good.
Lance was Sloan’s home, and if he never, ever got to touch the son of a bitch ever again it wouldn’t change a thing.
Lance was his person, and Sloan was going to keep him.
They headed into the bedroom, and Lance started stripping down.
The light was on, so Sloan got to look. There were scars, sure.
That one leg was a wreck, but the horrifying redness had faded to pinks and whites.
Puckers and lines danced over Lance’s skin, going lighter on the chest before digging deeper on the one shoulder and then climbing up his neck into his face.
It was a miracle he hadn’t died. Not just because of the heat and the trauma, but just sheer blind luck. One more millimeter and Lance would have had his carotid ripped open, and he would have bled out. It would have been over in seconds.
“Tell me it’s not all ugly to you.”
“I was just thanking God, baby, that you look so good.”
“Yeah?” Lance lifted his head, his eyes seeming to search for Sloan.
“Uh-huh. You—” He didn’t want to kill the mood, so he took a deep breath. “I did see you in the hospital, remember? This is a miracle.”
“Thanks. I think.” Lance chuckled.
“I mean it. You’re beautiful to me, honey.”
Lance ducked his head, cheeks flushing. “I want to be. It’s just hard to believe. I mean, I’m not as scarred as some of the guys, but I’ve heard people gasp when I walk into a room.”
“Well, we’re lucky there’s no one here with us, huh?”
“Super lucky.” Lance’s lips curled in a damn sexy grin. “Well, you could come look from a closer standpoint.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. Then I could see you with my hands.”
“I’m all over that.” He stripped off his shirt on the way to stand next to Lance. “Ta-da. I am no longer afar.”
“No, now you’re a-near.” Lance put his hands on Sloan’s chest, and that simple touch made his breath catch and his nipples harden.
“Maybe not close enough, though.” He curved a hand around to the small of Lance’s back and pulled him right up against his chest, letting them be skin on skin.
Lance moaned, his hands coming up to grab Sloan’s arms. “Oh, hell, yeah. That feels amazing.”
“Uh-huh.” Sloan was a little glad Lance couldn’t see him. He was probably drooling and already fighting his goofy O face.
“Kiss me?”
“Anything you want, honey.” He pressed his lips to Lance’s, and it was as if the world narrowed down to just the two of them. His lips tingled, his skin went hot, and his cock rose so insistent his belly hurt from the pull of it.
He kissed Lance with all the hunger he had pent up in him, hoping he didn’t scare his lover off with it, but not knowing how else to show Lance what he needed.
His cock prodded Lance’s hip, and when they broke for air, Lance struggled to get at his jeans. “Too much cloth, babe. I need to feel all of you.”
“Let me just?—”
“No. I want to.” Lance undid Sloan’s button and zipper, easing it down before skimming his jeans off.
Sloan stepped out of them, boots and socks long gone, and he’d left his flip-flops in the front room.
Naked, he pulled Lance close again, and he almost shouted his exultation when he felt Lance’s dick hard against his thigh.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
He kissed Lance again, getting them moving to the bed, because his knees were getting unsteady, and he wanted them to be able to stretch out and really touch each other, not worry about balance.
He chuckled. That wounded warrior thing took a lot of the acrobatics out of sex…
“Bed?” Lance asked when the backs of his legs hit it.
“Is that cool?”
“Hell, yes. That way I don’t look like a fool if I fall over.”
Sloan chuckled. “I was just thinking that. Suave, huh?”
“I don’t need suave. I need honest.” Lance reached up to touch his cheek.
He kissed Lance’s fingers. “Honest is my knees won’t hold me much longer. I can’t hardly breathe. You make me crazy.”
“You’re the one, Sloan. You always have been.”
“And I’ll take whatever you have.”
Lance had plenty to give him.
They stretched out together, sinking into the bed that was a little too soft, the sag in the middle forcing them to lean into each other. They cracked up, and that was when Lance started touching him, hands dragging over him, petting and stroking and playing.
They found his hot spots, one after another until he was fixin’ to scream. Lance remembered everything about him, that he liked his ribs touched with a firm caress, his hips with a feather-light touch that sent electricity zipping through him.
The smattering of scars here and there felt new now, different, and he had to gasp, to toss his head and whimper as Lance explored him.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. No, it feels like heaven, I swear to God.”
“This is what you need?”
He nodded, because he did. He needed Lance’s curiosity focused on him.
“Good. I need it too. You. I need you. You’re still so strong.” Lance murmured to him, so soft, like they had when they were stealing time and space.
He was tempted to tell Lance to yell the words. He wanted them ringing in the room, loud and proud. “Genetics,” he managed to choke out, the single word not louder than a sigh.