Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Harry
Today, I have been hunted by dogs. I’ve been submerged in a frigid river. I’ve been shot at. I’ve nearly plummeted over a waterfall. I’ve scaled a sheer rock face.
But it’s at this precise moment that I am the most deeply afraid.
Because I’m currently the recipient of Toby Webley’s genuine, unguarded smile.
It’s never been directed at me before.
I’m well aware that it’s not truly intended for me. I merely happen to be in the vicinity. He’s smiling because we’ve successfully created fire, which means we won’t die of hypothermia in the next few hours.
I’m positive it is solely the smoke from our newly kindled fire causing this lightheaded sensation.
“We just need marshmallows, then we’d be all set,” Toby says.
“I believe they forgot to include marshmallows in the survival kit,” I say.
Toby’s eyebrows flicker up in response to my humor, and another smile tilts his lips. It’s more of a smirk this time, more like the smiles I normally receive from him, but it’s still got his lingering happiness in it.
“Such an oversight,” he says.
“A momentous one,” I agree.
The fire makes everything better. It’s like having another person here, a sparkling, lively person who provides warmth and comfort.
Toby and I scramble to get material to feed the fire, and it grows in response to our careful attention, becoming a crackling beast.
Then, we spread out our clothes on logs around the fire to dry.
“If we stuff pine needles inside the clothes, it should help them dry faster,” Toby suggests.
“As long as we’re careful not to place our clothes too close to the fire, we don’t want them to ignite.”
“No. Clothing ignition is definitely not on my to-do list,” Toby says.
I stretch my legs towards the fire, ensuring the bandages on my heels get a chance to dry out.
As the fire intensifies, Toby shrugs off the top of the survival blanket and sits on a log with it wrapped around his waist, staring into the dancing flames.
He looks like one of the Greek heroes Homer wrote about, his bare chest a sculpture of masculine beauty.
I try to avoid my gaze lingering on his body, but there’s a limit to the other places you can look in a Nordic forest clearing.
So I find myself irresistibly drawn to observing the perfect lines of his body, the way his broad shoulders taper to his waist, the enticing smattering of hair on his chest.
I take in all of these details from the safety of my own log as the warmth emanating from the fire penetrates deep into my bones.
Toby turns his head and catches me looking.
I don’t know what he sees in my gaze, but it causes his eyes to widen.
Bloody hell.
“We should eat,” I say.
“Yes. Good idea.” Toby’s voice sounds rougher than usual.
He keeps one hand clutching the survival blanket around his waist as he leans down to rummage in the survival kit.
“We don’t have many energy bars left,” he says as he lobs one at me.
“We can worry about that tomorrow,” I say. “We’ll have to make some decisions about whether we stop to gather food or just press on to find habitation.”
“Unless we’re at the point of starving, my vote is definitely for habitation,” he says.
“I’m inclined to agree,” I reply.
“What happens if our vote is one apiece?” he asks.
“I guess we’ll solve that problem when we encounter it,” I say.
Toby turns over the energy bar in his hand, his face contemplative. “You know, I’ve been thinking since we’ve been out here that this is really how leadership came about, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, this is how leadership came about?”
“Well, back in cavemen times, a group of people needed to survive, so they had to select leaders they trusted to make the right decisions to help find food and shelter and protect them from threats.”
He looks at me, his eyes bright. “And all politics stemmed from that basic concept, didn’t it?
It’s easy to become distracted by all the lobbying and infighting and forget what our core mission is.
Even though you and I disagree on the best way to do it, we’re both just trying to make the best decisions for the people of the United Kingdom.
To help everyone find food and shelter and protect them from threats. ”
I shift uncomfortably, my survival blanket crinkling underneath me.
I went into politics because it was expected of me, because it was my family legacy. I was determined to succeed where my grandfather and father had failed, to become the first Matheson prime minister.
Do I enjoy it? Yes, most of the time. I have skills that make me a good politician. I’m adept at thinking clearly and rationally on my feet. I can control my emotions.
“There’s this quote from an old antipodean politician,” Toby continues without waiting for me to respond. “It basically goes that all people need is someone to love, somewhere to live, somewhere to work, and something to hope for.”
“I think they forgot the key component of something to eat,” I say.
“Yes, I agree. We are definitely learning how essential having something to eat is,” he says with a smirk.
There’s a funny fluttering in my stomach.
To avoid examining it, I stand and move to the other side of the clearing, busying myself by making a shelter for Toby and me to spend the night. There’s a little hollow at the base of a tree, and I dig it out. I gather moss and dried pine needles to line it to provide insulation.
Toby and I will be in close proximity again. But there is no way to avoid that.
It’s cold away from the fire, even with the survival blanket wrapped around me. I check our clothes and find our trousers are now dry. I quickly pull them on myself with the most enthusiasm I’ve ever put on clothes.
Relief shoots through me that Toby is doing the same.
Because those glimpses I was getting of his strong thighs weren’t helping me to maintain my composure.
Our jackets take longer to dry, but eventually, the wool of my coat is dry enough to wear.
Unfortunately, the light is beginning to fade.
“It’s starting to get dark. We need to extinguish the fire,” I say with regret. Somehow, this cheerfully flickering fire has made our current circumstances seem not quite so grim.
But we only saw one helicopter leaving. And our clothes are dry now. Fire at night increases our risk of being spotted.
Luckily, Toby doesn’t argue with me. Together, we reluctantly scoop up handfuls of dirt and throw them onto our fire.
“It’s like letting go of a friend,” Toby says mournfully. “Goodbye, precious fire.” He throws another handful of dirt. “It was fun while it lasted. In fact, it was more than fun. It was hot. Scorching even.”
Toby’s tendency towards melodrama can be infuriating. But it’s also amusing, and I feel my lips twitching upward.
Toby’s eyes drop to my mouth, and another part of me gives a twitch.
Bloody hell.
I concentrate on smothering the last of the fire with more dirt.
When I’ve finally finished, Toby’s examining the sleeping hollow I created.
“Um…so…we probably need to replicate last night’s sleeping arrangements,” he says.
I swallow. “I think that would be prudent.”
“It’s my turn to start out as the big spoon.”
“The ice cream scoop, you mean,” I say, and I’m rewarded by another flash of a smirk.
“The ice cream scoop holding the salad fork,” he agrees, and it’s my turn to hide my amusement.
We nestle into the hollow, one survival blanket beneath us, providing a barrier against the cold, unyielding ground. The other blanket is draped over us, a makeshift cocoon. We use our coats as bedding, arranging them meticulously around our bodies to serve as improvised blankets.
Toby’s arms hesitantly encircle me, and I make a concerted effort to avoid stiffening at the contact.
The weight of his forearm rests across my waist, a solid presence that feels possessive.
I catch the faint scent of smoke and pine that clings to his skin.
With our bodies still radiating heat from our proximity to the fire and the layers carefully arranged around us, it’s almost… dare I say, cozy.
“We almost died today,” Toby whispers into the silence.
“But we didn’t,” I counter.
“Only because of you.”
“You are the one who came up with the idea for dummies.” I feel obliged to point it out. “We’d still be trapped behind the waterfall if it weren’t for that.”
He shifts position slightly, and the warmth of his breath is now on the back of my neck.
“Hopefully, we’ll survive tomorrow too,” he says.
“We’ll give it our best effort,” I reply, and Toby huffs a half-laugh.
I try to relax into the cocoon of warmth, but my mind starts to flicker with images from today.
Toby, with his careful ministrations to my feet. Toby in the river, clinging to the survival kit. That moment when the current was hurtling him towards the waterfall, and I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach him.
I suddenly find it hard to breathe.
Toby’s arm around me tightens, and the weight of his arm over my waist causes the panic in my chest to subside. He’s here. He’s safe.
It’s my last thought as I drift off to sleep.
Toby’s naked in my arms. I kiss the side of his face as I pull him towards me, feeling the heat of his skin.
“Harry,” he whispers, and the longing in his voice has my cock hardening even more.
He turns in my arms, and we’re kissing properly, our cocks leaking as we move against each other. We’re in such close proximity there’s no way to clearly tell where he ends and I begin.
The heat between us intensifies with each passing moment, the scent of sweat and arousal surrounding us like a haze. Toby’s fingers trace down my back, sending shivers through me as his nails dig into my flesh.
Our bodies writhe against one another, the need for release becoming increasingly urgent with each touch. He groans softly into my mouth, his lips swollen and wet from the kisses, as I thrust harder against him, seeking the friction I crave.
“Harry.” It’s Toby’s voice, but something’s not quite right, making me pause my thrusting.
He’s not sounding turned on anymore. He’s sounding…amused.
I snap my eyes open.
Oh, holy shit. Toby Webley is actually in my arms. But he’s not naked like in my dream. He’s fully clothed.
And my cock is hard, and it appears I’ve been rubbing myself against him, leaving him in absolutely no doubt about the state of my arousal.
I pull back in horror, scrambling away from him as far as I can, tearing off the survival blanket in my urge to retreat as far from this situation as I can. The cool air greets me like a slap.
Toby rolls over to face me, amusement in his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I apologize. I was dreaming. I thought you were someone else,” I manage to stammer.
“Clearly.” He’s still smirking.
His obvious amusement causes anger to flash through me.
“You didn’t move away,” I say accusingly.
“I guess I was interested to see exactly what Harry Matheson’s seduction techniques are. I’ve discovered grinding is a key component.”
He stretches lazily, still with that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face.
“To reiterate again, I was asleep. I cannot be held responsible for the things my body does while asleep,” I say stiffly.
“No. You’re right. I wouldn’t want to make things hard for you by holding you accountable for what your body does while you are unconscious. Even if you did seem to be thoroughly enjoying yourself.”
“Do you mind?” I snap.
“Sorry. Just having a joke,” he says.
I glare at him. “I think you’ll find a key component of humor is that both people find the incident amusing.”
Toby’s smile is extinguished instantly. He scrambles to his feet.
He claws a hand through his hair before turning back to me, his voice full of venom.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry, can’t you ever lighten up?
Just relax and enjoy the moment. God knows how many more moments we’re going to have on this planet, so we should be enjoying the ones we’ve got. ”
Toby’s eyes are bright, and suddenly, I realize they’re glistening with unshed tears.