Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
A GENTLE brEEZE RUFFLED Sully’s hair. The tall green grass around him swayed and rustled.
In the distance a mountain range towered, lush and vibrant with trees and life.
He breathed in slowly through his nose, taking in the scent of fresh wilderness and summertime.
He’d never smelled air so clean in his life.
At camp, they weren’t in a city the size of Chicago or New York, but with so many men crowded so closely and facilities that were hastily built, it certainly didn’t smell half so wonderful as this.
The weight of Elliot’s head resting on Sully’s outstretched thighs was a pleasant connection.
Months of time spent in each other’s company had relaxed Elliot in miniscule degrees until the rule prohibiting touch shifted into a silent agreement that physical contact was permissible if it was innocent.
Sully absent-mindedly hummed a quiet tune, stroking his fingers through Elliot’s silky flax hair.
They hadn’t spoken much tonight, but something about the haunted look in Elliot’s eyes when he appeared led Sully to drag him down into this position, cradling him as much as he thought Elliot would allow.
Now those beautiful, heart wrenching eyes were closed, dark blond lashes fanning over his smooth sun-pinked skin, almost glowing white where the light caught them.
His perfect rosy lips downturned in the faintest pout.
Sully’s mouth flooded with moisture. He swallowed, forcing his gaze to the mountains before he could surrender to the strong impulse to lean down and capture those soft lips with his.
“Where are we today?” he asked instead.
“Italy, near the Dolomites. That mountain range there.” Elliot was quiet for a moment, his lashes cracking open to reveal blue as the sky that stretched wide and clear above.
He turned his head slightly to take in the spectacular view.
“I was here years ago with a lovely Italian painter. I posed for him in the grass with the mountains behind me, and spent hours basking in the sun while he painted. It took him a week to declare the painting was finished, and I suspect it only took so long because he kept cutting his work short to thoroughly tumble me.”
A burning sensation simmered in Sully’s gut. He frowned to himself at the reaction.
“It’s very pretty here.” Sully noticed Elliot’s intense focus on him. “And I can see why he’d be so distracted,” he added, glancing slowly along the length of Elliot’s body and back up to meet his longing gaze. Sully’s breath caught in his chest, and he ached with wanting.
Clearing his throat, Elliot turned away again, looking out at the scene before them.
“I don’t expect it’s nearly so pleasant here anymore.
” His expressive face clouded over as he spoke.
“I’m glad I’m not going back, I don’t think I could stand to see what’s become of the places I knew, or the people I loved there. ”
“What happened to the painter?” Sully asked, bitter curiosity prompted by the revelation Elliot had been in love at least once before.
He wished he had the same experience, but he’d assumed fleeting and anonymous fucks were how it had to be.
And then Elliot went and spoke so easily of love.
What would it be like? To be in love with a man. To have those feelings returned.
“Luca and I fell out, it was never meant to be more than a summer romance on either of our parts. Though we lost ourselves in it for a time, when it ended, it was the way most things between us did—with a passionate explosion.” Elliot’s gaze went distant, caught up in a recollection Sully couldn’t see.
“I continued occasional correspondence with his cousin Pietro who was my friend first. We studiously avoided any mention of Luca until Pietro informed me they had both enlisted.” Elliot shut his eyes, a furrow pressing between his brows.
Sully refrained from smoothing it away with conscious effort.
“A few months later, Luca wrote me a hastily scrawled letter. An apology for how our friendship ended. A request for forgiveness. I immediately wrote him back, but days after Luca’s letter arrived, another came from Pietro.
Luca was shot while laying barbed wire. He said it was quick but he would say that, wouldn’t he?
No one’s going to tell you if it was a painful, drawn out affair. ”
“Probably not.”
“No.”
They were silent for long moments, both lost in thought. He was afraid to ask about Pietro. Afraid of the answer and of bringing up more pain.
It was hard not to compare circumstances, not think of the future, of the dark, shapeless, terror-clogged void of madness and violence waiting to swallow them whole too.
Or of the upcoming voyage across the Atlantic through icy waters that would be infested with German U-boats trying to sink them before they ever set foot on foreign soil.
Elliot’s thoughts must have taken the same direction. “Have you heard when you’ll be going over?”
Sully swallowed nervously. “Another week before we head to New York and wait for deployment. You?”
“Next week, precisely the same. I was selected to lead a special operations unit comprised of three members of my class and two French Army officers. I’ve been promoted to Captain of all absurd things.”
Sully’s eyes widened. He knew from talking to Elliot that he was smart, clever, and could take charge of at least one man anyway.
Still, it seemed to crystallize everything Sully didn’t like to think of.
How they were both headed toward drastically different, uncertain and frightening times.
“Congratulations. You skipped right over Lieutenant, first and second. That’s… ”
“Awful decision-making? Three months of classroom learning, play acting soldier, and forcing myself to use a skill I swore I never would unless I had no other choice, and I’m deemed fit to determine the fate of five of my fellows?
Even the month of training in France won’t qualify me.
Then I see the others in my class, and half the cadets are hardly old enough to be living on their own without their mothers.
I shudder at the thought of them fighting, let alone leading men.
They’re all swagger and the confidence of youth.
At least I’ve been thoroughly disabused of the foolish immortality of the young.
I suppose I can be counted on not to assume it will all turn out because our side is the right one.
As if there’s truly any such thing in war. ”
“Aw hell, don’t get me started on the fools.” Sully groaned, massaging his temples. “Excited to march off to battle, thinking it makes them men.”
“What about you? Where will you be stationed?” Elliot asked, something desperate in his voice Sully couldn’t interpret.
Leaning back, Sully rested his palms on the soft grass. “France is all I’ve been told. Somewhere at the front. When we get there, we have another month of training for trench warfare. Learning to use real guns.”
Elliot shot upright, staring at him incredulously. “Real—wait—what do you mean real guns?”
Sully shouldn’t smile, but Elliot’s indignation on his behalf was endearing. “Well, they haven’t got enough of them, so we had to practice with wooden ones. You must’ve seen us marching ’round with them.”
Elliot’s brows were drawn down in fury, his pale cheeks suffusing with outraged red. Why does anger look so good on him? “Yes, but I don’t know, I assumed you were at least being taught with real ones. You can’t be serious!”
“Just the way things are,” Sully said with a shrug. No use in wasting time being furious on his behalf. It wouldn’t change anything. “Not like they’re sending us out into the trenches without learning at all.”
“No, but—”
“And anyway, at least I finally got a couple uniforms and a pair of boots that fit.”
Elliot’s brows pushed down lower, his lips pressed tight.
Guess that didn’t seem like much consolation to him.
It did to Sully after marching around with the shoes he came in for so long.
With some difficulty, Elliot mastered himself again, muscles losing their rigid set.
“Yes, I’ve seen your new uniform. Quite the sight. ”
Tilting his head slightly side to side, Sully couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re one to talk, I’m half-tempted to forget the risk whenever I see you in them, just walk over there and lay one on you. Might even be worth the court martials if anyone saw.”
“Without a doubt.” Elliot sounded troubled once more. Sully wanted him to be happy, the way he was in here. Wished it could be a safe place for both of them. “You still think of me when you’re conscious?”
“Lots. Probably too much since I don’t remember enough of this to make sense of it. Just think I can’t get over you.”
Elliot chewed on his bottom lip. Sully wanted to reach out and run his fingers through Elliot’s hair again. He didn’t think it was a good time to. Elliot’s conflicted expression made him think over what he’d said. Should he not have admitted it?
“I know you were teasing but it still bothers me that you don’t know,” Elliot said softly.
“I’ve tried to find an opportunity to speak to you for months now, but there’s never enough privacy, never a reason for our paths to cross naturally.
This would be so much easier if you remembered.
Or I could be sure of your reaction to my approach. ”
Sully shook his head. “I promised I’d keep you safe the night we met, and I know I’d damn well do it now too. If I could be sure no one would see through the illusion, I’d have approached you, even without any of this stuff going on in my head.”
“The crux of the problem,” Elliot acknowledged. “With so many skilled around, it’s damned near impossible to guess who’s perceptive enough to see past your illusions.”
Sully hummed his agreement. “But if you spot a chance to get me alone, take it. Don’t like the idea of you feeling guilty.
I’m the one who asked you to stay. I’m the one who keeps asking you to come back.
” Pausing, Sully reflected. It was true, but he knew himself enough to know that admitting it or having to face up to it outside this charmed place wouldn’t be easy.
Relying on anyone else was a foreign and unwelcome sensation.
He couldn’t tolerate it most of the time.
The only person he could rely on was himself.
“Just break it to me gently. I hate to say it, but I might not take it as good as I’d like. Not at first.”
“Reassuring, truly.”
“Sorry.”
“Aren’t we all. Distract me for now. Tell me how you’re doing. Have you let yourself make any friends yet?”
“Mostly I keep my mouth shut, keep to myself. There is this one kid—could’ve sworn he was barely old enough to be here, turns out he’s nearly my age—and I can’t help mothering the brat. He’s trying to hide it, but he’s nervous as hell and it itches under my skin.”
Elliot smirked at him, something false about it. “Getting under your skin, is he? Might you have feelings for the ‘brat’?”
“Ha, no.” Sully rolled his eyes. Was Elliot jealous?
Suddenly, something that should’ve occurred to Sully months ago smacked him square in the face the second the words left his mouth.
He didn’t know if Elliot was jealous or not because he couldn’t feel it.
He couldn’t feel any emotions emanating from him.
Hadn’t this entire time. How was he too boneheaded to notice?
He was practically missing one of his senses.
If he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by everything he might have noticed sooner.
Had some weird phenomenon of Elliot’s magic caused it or was it because they were inside Sully’s mind? Either way, it was frightening. And sort of exciting.
A flash of memory tugged at Sully. His lips twisted up as he said, “Not remotely the sort of man I’m interested in.”
“No? What sort’s that?” Elliot asked, playing along. A thrill zipped over Sully’s skin. He remembered too.
“I think you'll simply have to share a drink with me to find out,” Sully quoted back to him, pitching his voice low and coy as Elliot had.
Laughter doubled Elliot over, his eyes sparkling. “God, tell me I didn’t sound like that.”
“Oh you did.” Sully grinned at him, his own laughter bubbling up.
“But I liked it.” The desire to actually see Elliot, out there, in the waking world swelled and pressed in.
“I don’t know how it’s possible to miss someone you only knew for a night in reality, but it feels like a lifetime in here.
And I do. Miss you, I mean. I wish I could go back to that night and relive it, the way your lips felt, the way your mouth tasted.
” Sully reached out and slid his thumb over Elliot’s lips, watched his eyes go wide and hazy.
“How it felt with you pressing me into that cold rough brick or against those soft, soft sheets.” He pushed his thumb down on Elliot’s bottom lip hard enough to part them.
A flicker of tongue darted against the pad, and Sully groaned.
He smoothed the dampness over Elliot’s lips, leaving a shiny trail, heat slip-sliding through him with startling force.
Sully’s gaze darted down to the obvious bulge in Elliot’s pants and lingered there, recalling exactly how wonderful that cock was. He started to lean forward, cradling the back of Elliot’s head, guiding him closer, intent clear, desperate need reflected right back at him in vibrant shades of blue.
Then Elliot abruptly pulled away, rubbing a hand over his mouth. The yearning on his face slowly overwhelmed by determination. “I want to, Warren. You can’t possibly understand how much. I can’t though. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Sully sighed, disappointment cooling the rush of blood and anticipation. As much as he wished Elliot didn’t feel that way, he understood. With a rueful smile, he raised one shoulder. “It was worth a shot.”
Elliot smiled back, eyes tinged with sadness or regret or some similar emotion that twined around Sully’s heart and squeezed it.
Standing, Elliot held his palm out to Sully. “How does skipping rocks sound? I know a lovely little pond that’s perfect.”
Sully grasped his hand and levered himself up. “That’ll have to do.”