Chapter Six
Eli sat stiffly in the truck as Marsh pulled onto the winding road that led back toward Obsidian Ridge. The trees whipped past in a blur of late-summer green and gold, but Eli didn’t see them. His mind was already cataloging what he needed to do.
Pack the bag in the closet. Wipe his files from the Ridge network. Email Ezra—apologies, explanations, rehab plans. The schematics for the water therapy project. The prosthetic specs. Everything Marsh would need to recover fully.
He didn’t want to leave it messy. He just wanted to disappear without causing more damage.
He was halfway through wondering if his car would even make it down the mountain—it’d barely gotten him up the damn thing, but surely down would be easier, right?—when he realized Marsh was slowing down.
Not near the Ridge. Not near the turnoff.
“Where are we—?”
“Thought you’d like to be by the water,” Marsh said, his tone unreadable, bringing the truck to a stop and turning off the engine.
Eli blinked. They were at the river—a wide, lazy stretch of it that shimmered in the sun.
The water rippled with the breeze, catching the early afternoon light and scattering it like diamonds across the surface.
It was breathtaking in its simplicity, a slice of serenity carved out of a world that never seemed to stop spinning.
He swallowed hard, the ache for that water blooming in his chest, raw and sudden.
His body craved the weightlessness, the silence, the sense of being untethered.
He shifted in his seat, eyes locked on the gentle current.
It had always been like this for him—rivers, oceans, even swimming pools.
Water was his sanctuary. It was the one place the noise couldn’t follow.
Where hands couldn’t find him, where voices couldn’t cut him down.
Where he wasn’t a broken man with a past he couldn’t outrun, but just a body moving through water, free and clean and whole.
He didn’t want to want it. Didn’t want to need it so badly. But his fingers curled into fists in his lap, aching with restraint. Even now, even here, his body remembered the promise of solace.
But he didn’t move. “We need to get back.”
Marsh didn’t turn the key. His big hands stayed loose on the wheel, but his jaw ticked once, hard. Silence stretched between them until finally he exhaled through his nose.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Eli frowned, the words slicing through his thoughts like broken glass. “For what?”
Marsh’s gaze stayed fixed on the river, on the way the sunlight fractured over the surface.
“Because I am pretty sure that asshole found you through me. I didn’t use my usual systems to run your name.
Didn’t bother hiding the query behind enough firewalls.
I got sloppy, and it made you easy to find.
” He swallowed, the muscle in his throat working.
“Rookie mistake. And rookie mistakes get people killed.”
Eli sat back, confusion sharp and unwelcome. “Marsh...”
“I should’ve known you were on the run,” Marsh pressed on, voice hardening against himself. “Should’ve known you needed cover. Should’ve—”
“Stop.” Eli cut him off, sharper than intended.
He waited until Marsh finally looked at him, eyes shadowed with self-recrimination.
“You’re not psychic. You didn’t know. You take on too much—always carrying everyone else’s weight, like it’s your penance.
But you didn’t hand me to the Colonel. That’s on him. Not you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t as sharp this time. Still heavy but threaded with something else, something unspoken that hung in the humid air of the cab. Marsh flexed his hand against the steering wheel once, then finally looked at Eli again.
Marsh turned slightly in his seat to look at him. “Tell me about him.”
Eli’s spine went ramrod straight. “No.”
Marsh’s gaze sharpened. “Why not?”
Eli shrugged, going for an indifference he simply did not feel. “Because talking about him means he wins. Means he still matters.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Eli turned sharply. “You don’t get it, Marsh. You don’t know what he’s done—what he’s capable of. Talking about him could bring it all down on your head. On the Ridge.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well, maybe you should be.”
Marsh leaned closer, jaw tight. “He hurt you.”
Eli looked away. “Don’t.”
Marsh leaned in toward him. “I need a name, Eli.”
Eli shook his head. “No, you want a name, Marsh. For control. For vengeance. That’s not how this works.”
“I want it because I need to know what we’re fighting. Who we’re fighting. I need to protect you.”
“I’m not yours to protect, Marsh. I’m not a fucking mission file. I can protect myself.” Eli said with a confidence that, if he were completely honest, he simply did not feel.
“Like you did back there? Like you’ve been doing all this time? The bruises, the scars, the flinching—”
“Stop!” Eli shouted, hands shaking. “Just stop. You don’t get to demand answers when you won’t even let yourself feel anything half the time.”
Marsh was breathing hard, anger and worry and something else burning behind his eyes. “So, what—you’re just going to run again? Is that it?”
“Yes!” Eli shouted, voice cracking. “Because that’s what I’m good at, Marsh. Because running is the only way I stayed alive. I have a choice to make, and this is what I need to do.”
“Then choose to stay,” Marsh growled. “Choose me. And I will have your back until my last breath. You will never have to fucking run again.”
The cab went silent.
Then Eli leaned forward, eyes dark. “Don’t offer things you don’t mean.”
Marsh leaned in closer again. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”
Something shifted then—cracked and spilled between them. Eli surged across the console, dragging Marsh into a kiss that was all heat and desperation.
Marsh groaned, grabbing Eli’s hips, pulling him fully into his lap. The seat was shoved back with one move of Marsh’s hand. Eli straddled him, hands braced on his shoulders, grinding down against him as Marsh’s mouth claimed his.
Clothes were half-off, jeans shoved aside just enough. Marsh wrapped one hand around Eli’s cock, stroking him, and Eli gasped, forehead dropping to Marsh’s shoulder as he moved.
“You gonna run from this, too?” Marsh growled in his ear, making him shiver.
Eli shook his head, breathless. “Not—fuck—not this.”
After a mind-blowingly intimate moment, Marsh shifted slightly, reached over to the glove compartment, and popped it open with a muttered curse. He grabbed a small tube of lube, his movements hurried.
Eli raised his head slightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Seriously? You just keep lube in your truck like it’s part of a first-aid kit?”
Marsh grimaced, cheeks flushing. “It’s new. I was ... hopeful.”
Eli laughed softly, then leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Hope looks good on you.”
Marsh chuckled, then grew serious. He squeezed the lube onto his fingers, and with slow, deliberate care, reached down to prepare Eli, easing him open gently, giving him time.
Eli lifted himself up a little to give him room, then let his head drop to Marsh’s shoulder again, breath hitching with every glide of his fingers. “God ... you take your time, don’t you.”
“You deserve that,” Marsh murmured, voice thick. “You deserve more than quick and desperate. You deserve to be worshiped.”
Eli shuddered. “Then shut up and worship me already.”
Marsh slid into him with a groan, steady and deep. Eli gasped, nails biting into Marsh’s shoulders, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t want to. In that position, with Marsh inside him and the sky spilling light through the fogged windshield, Eli felt something crack wide open inside his chest.
He was the one riding, the one setting the pace. And yet, every hip flex thrust from Marsh felt like possession. Like grounding. Like home.
Marsh wrapped one lubricated hand around Eli’s cock again, stroking him in time with their bodies.
The rhythm built slow, then faster, until it turned frantic then eventually it crested—white-hot pleasure tearing through Eli, dragging Marsh with him moments later.
He loved the hoarse sound Marsh made as he yelled Eli’s name into the cab of the truck.
Their breathing slowed together, Eli still wrapped around him, head on Marsh’s shoulder. “Ko nui taku aroha koe.”
Marsh jolted, then kissed him on the shoulder. “I will work out what language that is.” He promised. Eli knew that he would, and he looked forward to it, but then he might be ready for him to translate those words. I love you.
Marsh’s hand slid up his spine. “Are you going to leave me, Eli?”
Eli hesitated, voice quiet. “What if I can’t stop being afraid?”
Marsh kissed his temple. “Then be afraid. But stand behind me while you are. I’ll take the hits until you remember how strong you are.”
A long breath passed between them.
Eli whispered, “Thank you.”
Marsh, still breathless, whispered back, “You were wrong before, lover. You are mine to protect. And you are mine to fight for, and fight with.”
Eli released a shuddering breath and simply let himself melt into Marsh. He was his, just as Marsh was Eli’s. And suddenly the world didn’t seem as terrifying as it once seemed.
****
Marsh thought that the moment was perfect. The sun caught the river just so, a gleam of gold over liquid sapphire, and the air had gone still, thick with something unspoken.
They stood at the river’s edge, Marsh leaning heavily on Eli, trusting him to hold his weight, both stripped down to their underwear.
Not because either of them gave a damn about modesty—they’d already seen more of each other than most—but out of respect for the possibility that some unsuspecting local might decide to go for a nature walk and be treated to a surprise anatomy lesson.