Chapter 9
Sick
Carter
A loud thump woke me up. It sounded like a minor earthquake, and it took me a moment to realize it came from somewhere in my apartment. I jumped out of bed and barged into the spare bedroom, only to find Thorsen sprawled on the floor.
“What the fuck?” I muttered, hurrying towards him. “Are you okay?”
He wasn’t moving.
“Thorsen?” I said, crouching next to him. “Thorsen? Tye? Tye? Wake up, damn it! I’m not giving you mouth-to-mouth. Do you hear me?”
“Hmm?” he murmured, still motionless. “A kiss?”
He was alive. Thank God.
“Get up,” I said, shaking him. “You’ll get sick.”
He ignored me, so I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled him up on his knees.
“I couldn’t fall asleep because of your damn cologne,” he murmured, scrambling to his feet. “I could smell you everywhere.”
“What are you even talking about?” I said, panting under his weight.
I helped him up until he collapsed on the bed face-down, murmuring something unintelligible in French. I rolled my eyes and covered him with a blanket, only to realize that he looked awful. His face was pale, his cheeks had an unhealthy flush, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. When I felt his forehead, I cursed under my breath. He was burning up.
I hurried out of the room only to return with some pills and a glass of water.
“Thorsen,” I said, shaking him. “Drink this.”
No reply.
“Hey, wake up,” I tried again, only louder.
Finally, he raised his head, looking at me in confusion. His eyes were bloodshot blue.
“Is that you, Carter?”
“Yeah. Drink this.”
Surprisingly, he did what I said.
“Thanks, man.”
When his head sank into the pillow, I headed to the door, only to stop abruptly.
Was it even safe to leave him alone? What if he falls off the bed again? What if he hurts himself? What if he dies?
I mulled it over, chewing on my lip. I didn’t want to stay but leaving him alone seemed irresponsible. Unnecessary too. We spent three days and nights lying next to each other in that bunker. One more night meant nothing, especially considering his present condition. Besides, no way would I let him die on me after everything we had survived.
Quietly, I climbed into the bed and lay down next to him, careful not to touch him.
Until he falls asleep. I told myself. Then you can go.
The last thing I could remember was the sound of his uneven, raspy breathing, and then… nothing.
When I woke up, his arm was thrown over me. Leg, too.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I grumbled, pushing him away, but it only made him move closer to me. His limbs returned too.
“Mommy?” he murmured, snuggling against me. “You smell so good.”
Hell, no.
“Stop doing that,” I said, feeling emotionally and physically drained. “I’m not above hitting a sick person.”
A soft snore was his only reply.
I shook my head in disbelief, staring at the ceiling. It was only a dream, wasn’t it? The bunker. The darkness and the cold. Hunger. All of it, including the present moment. It was just a nightmare, and I would wake up soon.
I was in and out of sleep when I felt Thorsen trembling next to me. Or better yet, on me, since various parts of his body were tangled with mine. I felt his forehead and realized he was still burning up, so much so that I considered taking him to the ER. His eyelids were moving rapidly as if he had a nightmare, and his T-shirt was soaking wet.
I brought him more pills and somehow made him drink them. I helped him take off his wet T-shirt and replaced it with a dry one. When his head sank into the pillow, I noticed a frown on his face. My gaze slid over him as I searched for the source of his discomfort, only to spot a hair tie in his bun.
“I’ll remove this,” I whispered. “It looks uncomfortable.”
I took off the hair tie and ran my fingers through the long, blond strands, untangling them.
“Is this better?” I asked him to see if my assumption was correct.
“Mhm,” he murmured, looking more relaxed. “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not stroking your hair,” I exclaimed, laughing nervously. “Are you insane?”
He shivered instead of replying.
What if he dies tonight? Like… from a fever or something. Do I want him on my conscience?
Oh, fuck it.
Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.
I finally relented because I was a good person, although the thought alone made me cringe. I could even feel my stomach acting up.
“If you mention this to anyone, I will shoot you,” I threatened. “Do you understand? I’m doing this only because you’re probably on your deathbed.”
Whining internally, I ran my fingers through his hair, trying not to think about it too much.
He risked his life for you. I reminded myself. He’s sick because of you. He may repulse you on any other day, but tonight you will ignore it.
I kept touching his hair, surprised to realize how soft it was. How it was longer than it looked. Secretly, and I would never admit it to him, I was jealous of his hair. He had beautiful hair. He mostly wore it tied into a bun, but I preferred it when he left it down.
Still, this entire situation left me seething.
Thorsen, you may have saved my life, but if you don’t die tonight, this makes us even. And to the person who did this to us, if I ever catch you, you are soo dead.
Thorsen
I woke up in heaven, or it seemed like it. I was somewhere warm and cozy, maybe in the tropics. Was I shivering? If yes, it was out of sheer enjoyment because I was floating on a hot, fluffy cloud. Everything around me was so soft. Well, not everything. The body next to mine was nothing if not hard muscle, and it made me smile. I would recognize this body blind and deaf and with my fingertips removed. I would recognize that cologne anywhere… oh, my God! I moaned and raised my head to inhale more deeply when I heard a deep voice.
“Drink this.”
I blinked in confusion, but all I could see was darkness. Was I in the bunker again?
“Carter,” I croaked. “I think we’re back down there.”
“No, we’re not.” A calm voice soothed me. “You have a fever, and your mind is playing tricks on you. Raise your arms.”
I did what he said, only to feel him taking off my T-shirt. Was he undressing me?
“Am I dreaming?” I muttered. “I must be dreaming.”
I never dreamt of him before. I imagined us fucking, sure. Our exhausted, well-fucked bodies. Balls empty, dicks half-hard. My cum, running out of his ass. The bite marks, the hickeys, the spit, the begging—was it all just in my head?
When he lay down next to me, I reached for him greedily, my teeth chattering. I had to make sure he wouldn’t leave me alone in that place.
“It’s okay,” he said, and then I felt his arm around me, or maybe it was a dream too. “We’re home. You’re safe.”
I believed him because it was exactly how I felt. Safe.
***
When I woke up, I was in the bunker again. The water was dripping on my naked body, and every drop felt like a pinprick on my skin. I was hungry and cold, and I couldn’t open my eyes as if my eyelids were glued together. And I was all alone, which made it even worse.
“Carter?” I whispered, but I was too weak to search for him. Was he even here? Or did he abandon me? He hated me… He must have abandoned me. It made me realize I was about to die, and I never even kissed the fucker. Worse than that, I probably never would.
I woke up with a scream lodged in my throat, my heart pounding like crazy. For a moment, I was almost frantic with fear. Only when I saw a ceiling above me did my heartbeat slow down a fraction. A room. I was in a room, thank God, and not in a dark pit. It was only a fucked-up dream.
I started to straighten up because I needed to pee, only to realize that I couldn’t move. I looked down at my body to see what hindered my movements, only to spot a dark-haired head lying on my chest. The long, inky eyelashes cast a shadow on the perfectly sculpted cheeks, while the soft, full lips remained parted to aid the deep, steady breaths. The arm around my waist held me firmly, ensuring I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
I stifled a laugh because this was hands down, the best way I ever woke up. Still, I knew my partner wouldn’t be as thrilled about this situation as I was, so I decided to wake him up. After all, he allowed me to spend the night here. He took care of me while I was ill, and now it was time to reciprocate.
“Hey, Carter,” I said, groaning when I felt my throat sting. “Wake up.”
His soft snoring told me he chose to ignore me.
“Carter,” I tried again, caressing his arm. “Wake up, babe.”
Yes, I was taking advantage of the situation, but it was just a word. A harmless little word that wouldn’t hurt anyone.
“Mm-mm,” he murmured in disagreement, burying his face in my chest. “Warm.”
I bit my lip to stifle a laugh.
“You should probably move, partner,” I said when he threw a leg over me, and that wiped the smile off my face.
Jesus. Christ.
Okay, calm down. It’s just morning wood. No biggie.
No biggie? I almost laughed because… what the fuck was the size of that thing?
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, panicking.
My body got stupid at that point. I gritted my teeth to stop the inevitable, but it was too late. My dick was already swelling. I pressed my palm against the thickening hardness, willing it down, but it only made the pre-cum pour. Sweat coated my upper lip as I stifled a groan, hyperventilating. When Carter’s leg moved and grazed my erection, I bit on my tongue to stop myself from making a sound. My balls tightened—just by fucking that. Just by… God, why do I feel as if I'm about to burst?
Premature ejaculation. It was the only thought that helped me restore my sanity. I squeezed the tip of my dick to prevent a disaster, groaning in pain that made my entire body shake. Then I used all my strength to push Carter off me until he landed on his back, still deep asleep.
Please go away, erection. I begged. Please go away.
It wouldn’t. Even after the pain, it wouldn’t go away.
He’s dreaming about Vicky.
I wiped the snot from my nose with the back of my hand, sniffling. Now, that was a thought capable of killing a boner stone-dead. Not just because it made my chest hurt, but also because it was probably true.
Carter
I dreamt about being chased through the woods. I ran like crazy, but I could feel the presence behind me snapping at my heels. After a long and exhausting run, I managed to put some distance between us. The air cleared, and I saw the blue clouds above me. Blue. So damn blue. Violet, cerulean, aquamarine… They kept changing color.
After my fear was gone and I could breathe again, one sensation stayed with me, hot in my belly. One craving wrecked my insides. One singular need made my body weak—the need to fuck. Not make love. Not have sex. Fuck. I needed to fuck. I needed to pound someone into the mattress so hard the bed would break. I needed to bury myself into someone so deep I would come out on the other side. I needed... I just needed to fucking rut. The next thing I knew, I was falling into the abyss. My blue clouds were gone, and I was all alone.
When I finally woke up, my first thought was that I couldn’t breathe. As it turned out, I really couldn’t breathe because I had two hundred pounds of muscle lying on top of me.
“Thorsen,” I said through my teeth. “Move the fuck off me.”
He muttered something incoherent in his sleep.
I tried to push him away, but it was impossible, even for me. His weight pinned me to bed so I couldn’t move. His arms lay on both sides of my head, hugging the pillow and entrapping me. His face was buried in my neck. And between my thighs, his leg was pressed against my junk… my increasingly hardening junk. Human biology was truly a bitch.
“Thorsen!” I hissed, hitting him in the ribs. “Move, or I will shoot you!”
“What?” he rasped.
“I can’t breathe.”
He groaned, sounding annoyed as if he had a reason to be annoyed while making a pancake out of me. I breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled away, only to gasp when he grabbed me by the hips and dragged me on top of him.
“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Have you lost it?”
I tried to free myself, but his arms tightened around me, refusing to let go of me. I looked at him incredulously, but he still seemed asleep… how was that even possible? I could understand his PTSD after everything we've been through, but this was getting ridiculous.
“Tye, let go of me,” I said with a sigh, only to feel him pushing my head on his chest and muttering, “Shut up.”
At that point, I laughed. I laughed at him, at myself, and at destiny for being a bitch. I vowed to myself that I would kill both Bob and Baldie. Then I fell asleep because something that Thorsen had said was correct: after everything that happened, falling asleep with him was easy. Escaping the nightmares that awaited us at the other end was hard.