12. Indy
TWELVE
INDY
There’s a dull headache sitting at the back of my skull.
We end up lying on the floor, legs in opposite directions, heads together. The air is marginally fresher on the floor. Or maybe I’m imagining it. It’s difficult to say.
“What if nobody comes?” I say quietly.
Nick is silent for a bit.
He clears his throat.
“They will.” He sounds so forceful, like he can get us out of here with sheer will and determination.
He turns his head just a bit so when he speaks next, his lips touch my cheekbone the slightest bit.
“We don’t know what the hell’s happening out there, but if that tornado tore through town, things are fucked up, and rescue will just take more time.
They will come, and all of this? It’ll just be an interesting story you tell people. ”
I close my eyes. “About that time a building collapsed on me, and I peed in an empty water bottle?”
“It’ll be hard not to get laid with that in your dating profile.”
“Fingers crossed,” I say.
I stare into the darkness above us and try not to imagine the whole building, the debris, the rubble, all stacked on top of us.
“I keep thinking about trees,” I say absently.
“What about them?” Nick asks. He doesn’t sound surprised or taken aback by the out-of-nowhere topic change.
“I’ve never seen a giant sequoia. They’re supposed to be majestic.”
“They are.”
I turn my head. Now our noses are touching.
“You’ve seen one?”
“We used to take road trips,” he says. “Lots of national parks on the agenda. They’re affordable when you’re on a budget.
Mom was always so apologetic about us not going to amusement parks instead, but...
” He lets the sentence trail off unfinished, and his shoulder moves in a shrug. “I don’t like heights anyway.”
I raise my brows. “That’s the first time you’ve admitted feeling fear. I have to rethink everything I know about you now.”
“I’m not afraid of heights. I just don’t like them.”
I lift my hand and aim it awkwardly over my head to pat his cheek. “You’re so tough. Who’s my big, tough guy?”
He slaps my hand away, but then he’s laughing.
“I don’t like you,” he says, but nobody who doesn’t like somebody says it like he does. Like he’s trying really hard to convince himself of it and not succeeding.
Sometime in the hours in this darkness, he’s lost the ability to intimidate me. It might be temporary, who knows, but for now I’m reckless.
“I’m glad I kissed you.”
He goes so very still.
I snort out a laugh. Another one. And once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I’m just so fucking proud of myself for taking him off guard like that.
He moves away from me, and I’m still laughing. Suddenly he’s hovering above me. His face is right above mine. I can feel his breaths on my lips.
I swallow hard. Suddenly, I don’t feel like laughing anymore. My voice comes out on a whisper. “I’m glad I got to know what it felt like. This kind of need. It would have sucked missing out on it.”
“Stop wasting oxygen,” he says.
He’s so close. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. Arms on either side of my head. Nose somewhere above my chin. Lips above my lips.
My breathing is ridiculously loud.
I lick my lips, and my stomach tenses, and it’s hot and unsteady and loud.
“Make me.”
We’re nothing but atoms formed in ancient stars. Just stardust.
But he kisses me, and I feel infinite.
He kisses me and everything… stops.
And it’s sweet. So, so sweet.
He’s hovering above me, body tense, vibrating, like he’s doing his best to hold himself in check, and all the same, his mouth is sweet. It’s tender. It coaxes the kiss out of me.
My mind is light, and my hand goes to the back of his head, fingers curling in his hair. A raw, helpless sound escapes my mouth, and I can’t stop it even if it makes me feel vulnerable in a whole new way, because now he’ll know without a doubt that I’m in too deep.
In reply, his tongue dips into my mouth, and I surrender without a fight.
A low hum rumbles in his throat, like approval. My body feels electric, all buzzing and sparks.
He breaks the kiss too soon. Then again, right now it feels that any time would be too soon.
“What do you want?” he murmurs, lips a hairsbreadth away.
I’m suddenly speechless. It was easier earlier, fueled by anger and adrenaline. This is different. This is gentle. And soft. And I find myself woefully speechless, even though there’s so much I want.
The only thing I can do, on pure instinct, is to grip his hair tighter to make it very clear that I don’t want him to stop.
He chuckles. Also softly. “Okay. Okay.”
He moves anyway, and then he’s on top of me instead of above me, and that’s good.
And we’re kissing again.
Which is even better.
He jerks open the button of my jeans. The zipper sounds impossibly loud in the darkness.
Goosebumps travel over my skin at high speed, and my ears ring when he shoves his hand inside and wraps it around my cock.
He starts jerking me, and I whimper as my brain tries to process all the different sensations.
The roughness of his palm. The scratch of dry skin.
The tender, slow slide of his lips against mine.
Filthy and sweet wrapped up in one.
My hard cock is trapped between his hand and my stomach.
He pushes one of his thighs between mine, and I rock up helplessly into the pressure. His dick, rock hard, aligns with mine in this mess of bodies and limbs. Our chests brush, and it’s… a lot. It’s a lot.
Me, flat on my back. Him above me, hand in my pants. Me straining against him, letting out desperate noises, shoving my hips against his, searching for more friction.
My other hand slides down his side then grabs his ass. He makes a choked noise when I wrap my legs around him.
He pulls his hand out of my pants and fumbles with his own jeans, pushing them down then wrestling mine lower before he aligns our bodies again. He wraps his fingers around my wrists and holds them up over my head as he starts to gyrate his hips, pushing our bodies together.
His kiss grows more demanding, and his tongue traces my lower lip. I press closer and open wider, and he groans into my mouth.
The kiss becomes more.
Hot. Wet. Wild. Full of teeth and tongues. I lose another tether to reality. Never once have I been kissed like this before.
Like I’m air. Like he’s drowning. Like he needs me. Like he can’t stop.
Like I’m his.
I grip his ass cheeks, pulling them apart. He makes sounds in the back of his throat, desperate, needy sounds. The head of his cock nudges the underside of my balls, and I strain closer.
He’s strong and hard and unyielding above me. It turns me on in a way I didn’t expect. Didn’t know it was possible.
His lips are still on mine. I arch, and our cocks brush again. He starts rocking into me, still holding my hands trapped above my head.
His mouth slides from my mouth to my neck, then to the hollow of my throat.
He sucks, and I buck up wildly.
The heat has been building up for a while, but it was manageable before. Now it’s overwhelming.
“Nick,” I gasp. Plead. Fire ravages through my veins. And still, it builds.
He shoves his hand between us and takes hold of my cock. He jerks it, fast and loose, and bites down on the side of my neck, teeth sinking into the sensitive spot.
I sob out my release as I come in a blinding rush, drifting in the blissful sensation for a few seconds before I sag to the floor.
“Fuck,” Nick gasps into my ear. He sucks the lobe between his teeth and bumps his hips into mine, his hard cock rubbing into my softening one.
Then he’s coming too. Warmth pools against my cock.
He slumps on top of me.
We lie like that for a long time. Every now and then he kisses my neck. Every time, it’s unexpected. Every time, I shiver.
When we finally peel ourselves off each other and get up, I make a face. We were already sweaty and dirty before, and now there’s cum added to the equation. Pulling my jeans up will suck ass.
He turns on the flashlight for a moment and tugs his shirt over his head.
My mouth goes instantly dry at the sight of his back.
The light from the phone is uneven when he moves around, but I can easily trace the line of his spine and the smooth edges of his shoulder blades.
The faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He shifts and the muscles in his back bunch and move.
I stare. Unabashedly.
He pushes his pants down and steps out of them.
I stare even more.
His ass is… It’s so firm it looks like it’s been carved out of stone. The curve of his lower back just above his buttocks looks so smooth I want to touch it and check.
He finds another bottle of water, sticks the shirt between his arm and side, and twists the cap off.
“Take off your shirt,” he says as he turns around.
I snap my eyes up from his cock and blink at him, and he waits until I grab the hem of the shirt and pull it over my head. Then I watch him splash half the water on his shirt. He comes and stands in front of me. And starts to wash me.
The wet fabric is cool when it comes into contact with my skin, and my stomach muscles tighten for a moment from the surprise.
He wipes the shirt over my chest and pecs. Over my shoulders. Arms. My stomach.
“Turn,” he says softly.
I do what he says in a daze. He cleans my back.
The feel of the cool cloth and being clean and not hot and sweaty is heaven. I let out a breath. My shoulders drop. He cleans my armpits, and a groan escapes my lips.
He stills for a breath.
His lips press a kiss to my nape.
He pours more water on the shirt and cleans his own upper body while I watch.
“Pants.” He nods at my jeans.
I push them down and off my feet. And then I try not to whimper when he cleans my cock and runs the wet fabric over my balls. Over and over again.
I just came my brains out.
But I’m getting hard again.
He slides the pad of his thumb over the head of my dick, and I’m surprised my knees manage to hold me up. My breathing hitches, and the smallest of smiles quirks in the corner of his lips.
“There,” he says hoarsely, and lets his gaze meet mine.
My heart beats wildly, savagely, when he starts to clean his own dick. It gallops in my chest like it’s being dragged along by wild horses when he slides the shirt over his erection.
I drink him in. Eat him up. Sear the sight into my brain.
He pulls his pants back up, and I find my jeans.
He sits down on the floor, spreads his legs, and looks at me.
I sit down between his legs and lean my back against his chest.
He wraps his arms around me.
And we wait.