Chapter Twenty-One Still Burning #2
The second Reece stepped out of the car, bracing against the ache in his ribs, Trent was already there.
No words. No hesitation. He reached him in three quick steps, wrapping Reece into him as if he didn’t trust the moment to be real unless he was touching it.
Then with one hand on the back of Reece’s neck, the other ghosting the bandages beneath his shirt, he felt his heartbeat underneath.
Reece folded into him, breathing him in. All the sweat and antiseptic and rain-damp cotton. “Hey, beautiful. ”
He dipped his forehead onto Trent’s, curling an arm around his waist. And for the first time since that night in the school corridor, he stopped fighting. Because he was home.
And Trent was here with him.
Trent eventually stepped back, eyes glassy but bright. “Thought you might need an in-house medic.” He bit his lip, as if unsure how far he was allowed to go. “Until you’re better.”
“Longer.” Reece held his gaze. Certainty in one word.
Behind them, Ethan got out of the car and stood awkwardly by the door. “I’ll head off. Let you settle in.”
Reece nodded. “Thanks for… y’know. The lift.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll come by. Check on you.” He turned to Trent, quieter now. “Thank you. For giving me my brother back.”
Trent nodded once, sincere.
Ethan left and Trent wrapped his arm around Reece to help him to the door, searching inside Reece’s pocket for his keys. He then opened the door and led him in. Inside, the house was quiet. Dimly lit. Comfortably familiar.
Reece dropped onto the sofa with a quiet groan, every muscle sighing with the effort. Trent toed off his boots and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and two small codeine tablets cradled in his palm. He held them out.
Reece shook his head. “I’m good.”
Trent sat down beside him, setting the water on the coffee table. He didn’t put the pills down, though. He turned them over in his hand.
“Don’t stay in pain because of me.”
Reece cocked his head. “ You are the one who busted my ribs.”
That earned him a quiet laugh .
“Yeah.” Trent bit his lip. “But you not taking these to protect me? That’s not the deal. I can handle it.”
Reece’s smile faded enough to leave room for truth. “Can you?”
Trent met his gaze. “Yeah.” He leant back, resting one arm along the back of the sofa, brushing his thigh along Reece’s. “It’s not easy. The last few weeks… I’ve wanted to cave more times than I can count. Wanted to dull it all. Soften the edges a bit.”
Reece stayed quiet. Let him speak.
“But I didn’t. I haven’t. What that fire showed me—what you showed me—is that I’m needed. Out there. On the ball. Head clear. No blurring, no shortcuts. Not if I want to keep people alive. And not if I want to feel you.”
Reece’s chest pulled tight. Not from pain, but from how much that meant, and he placed a steady hand on Trent’s thigh. “Agreed.”
Trent’s eyes flicked to his, warm and tired.
“I’m seeing a counsellor now. Private. Not NHS, so I can talk about everything without worrying it’ll end up in a file somewhere.”
Reece tightened his grip on Trent’s leg, showing him he was there. He got it.
“I told my mates, too.” Trent dropped his head back on the sofa.
“Told them I haven’t been… great. That I need their help.
Niko pretty much knew already. Dev didn’t want to admit it, I think.
And Rory… he’s Rory. I’m not sure he clocked how serious I was, but he listened.
And offered me a full treatment down the salon. ”
Reece let out a soft breath. “That’s brave.”
“The treatment?” Trent shrugged off the joke, ruffling his perfectly styled and golden highlighted bouncy curls.
“It was overdue. And—” he paused, searching for the word, “—therapeutic.” He then glanced down at the codeine in his palm.
“So if you need these, please take them. I didn’t go through all this for you to sit here hurting. ”
Reece looked at the tablets. Then at Trent.
And he realised then, this wasn’t about pain relief. It was about trust. Faith. Saying, I believe in you enough to let myself need something you’ve had to walk away from.
So he folded Trent’s fingers around the codeine tablets. “I’ll take one before bed. But not now.” His voice dropped lower, smoky. “Right now… I want to feel you.”
“Then you’ve got me. For as long as you need me. Figured I’d stay the night. Monitor your vitals.”
Reece smirked, tilting his head. “That what we’re calling it?”
Trent flushed, switching his gaze to the window, but Reece caught his chin between his fingers, coaxing him gently back. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He smiled. “What I’m calling it is—I want you here. For as long as you want to be here.”
Trent leant in and kissed him. Cautious. Worrying about hurting him. Then he settled into Reece’s side and tucked his head beneath his jaw, lacing their fingers together.
“You’re in all the papers, by the way.”
Reece snorted. “Most wanted?”
“Worthbridge’s hero.”
Reece exhaled, the tension draining from his shoulders. “The real heroes’ll be the ones who put whoever did it behind bars. This shit’s gone on too long.”
Trent stiffened.
Reece didn’t miss it. “What’s the latest?”
“I’m under strict orders not to talk about it with you.”
“By who?”
“Your crew manager. ”
“Miller?” Reece arched a brow. “Since when are you and Miller on first-name, top-secret terms?”
“Since he dropped off homemade cookies at the hospital. In a Tupperware with your name sharpied on the lid.”
Reece narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. And where are these cookies?”
Trent made a face. “They were an abomination. Doesn’t have your baking ability. I did you a favour.”
“Did you?” Reece leant in, playful heat in his tone. “So if you can’t offer me home baked cookies to distract me from thinking about the arsehole who nearly killed me, a kid, and a teacher… what can you distract me with?”
Trent bit his bottom lip, tilted his head. “I’m a medic, Reece. Technically, you’re still under restriction.”
Reece brushed a knuckle along his jaw. “I think there are ways of doing it without me breaking a sweat.”
A crooked smirk broke over Trent’s face. Mischievous. Confident. A little wrecked with want.
“You’ll need to be handled professionally.”
“With care.”
“The utmost care.” Trent sloped down off the sofa onto his knees, nudging himself between Reece’s parted legs. “It’s what the people would want for their hero.”
“I can see the headline now: wounded firefighter finds healing in hot medic’s mouth-to-cock.”
Trent snorted, then pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh through the soft fabric of his joggers. “You sure?”
Reece cupped his face, brushing a thumb along the hollow of his cheek. “I’ve never been surer. Kiss me better, sweetheart.”
Trent tugged down Reece’s joggers, Reece lifting off the sofa to allow him to pull them down and off, he took his top off himself, leaving him completely naked and exposed, apart from the bandage around his chest. Broken and beaten. And he let Trent kiss it all better.
Letting go of control. Of pain. Of fear.
Giving himself, his trust, his body, the ache still pulsing in places no medication could reach, over to the only person he wanted to feel it with . And when Trent took him into his mouth, every glide of his tongue, hollow of his cheek, every wet, lewd slurp was devotion.
Reece gripped Trent’s curls, threading his fingers through the soft strands as Trent worked him deeper. “That’s it,” he rasped, watching his cock slide in and out of Trent’s perfect mouth. “Fuck— Trent …”
He held him there, gentle but firm, guiding him up and down. Trent moaned around him, the vibrations making Reece bite back a groan.
But it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. Not with everything they’d held back.
So he growled, “Take your clothes off.”
Trent pulled off him with a wet drag, lips swollen, chin slick, and looked up with those flushed, shining eyes. He stood, breathless, and peeled off his greens. Top first, then down to his briefs, revealing bare skin and a cock already hard and leaking.
Reece sat up, stroking himself, his cock slick and heavy in his palm. “Ride me.”
Trent swallowed. “I don’t know if I should—”
“You should,” Reece cut in. “Right here. Sat here. I won’t move.
You set the pace. Take it easy. Ride me like you love me.
” He stroked his thumb along Trent’s hipbone.
“You can manage that. C’mon, sweetheart…
” His voice turned to a whisper, hungry, tender.
“Need to feel you around me. Want to be in you.”
That tipped the scale .
Trent reached around to the side of the sofa, pulling his medical kit to him, and rummaged inside. Tucked discreetly beneath bandages and antiseptic wipes, he retrieved a small sachet of lube.
Reece arched a brow, smirking. “You carry that in your trauma kit now?”
Trent flushed, not quite meeting his eyes as he ripped the packet. “It’s called being prepared.”
“For a medical emergency?”
“There are a multitude of reasons we need lube. None of them are for this reason. Do you want me to explain each use, or get on you?”
“The latter please.”
So Trent straddled Reece carefully. Then, right there, unashamed, worked himself open with his lubed-up fingers in his lap. And watching him like that, was almost too much.
“Jesus.” Reece gripped Trent’s hips.
Trent smiled. “You ready?”
“Sweetheart, I think you could ride me into oblivion, and I’d die smiling.”
“That’s alright. I’ll bring you back to life again.” Then Trent shifted, guiding Reece to him, and lowered himself down.
Slow. Tight. Perfect.
Reece gripped his thighs, holding still, trembling with restraint as Trent took him inch by inch, slow and deep, until seated fully, body trembling from the stretch and the emotion.
“Fucking hell,” Reece whispered. “You feel so good, baby.”
Trent rolled his hips, riding him perfectly. He dropped his head back, parted his lips, breath catching with each motion as he found the rhythm that suited his need. And Reece watched him like a man starved. Roaming his hands, touching everything he could without breaking him.
“Look at you.” Reece sucked on his neck. “So fucking beautiful. Taking me like you were made for it.”
Trent braced his hands on Reece’s shoulders, riding him with more urgency. Each roll of his hips sending sparks up his spine, drawing out breathy moans and ragged gasps filling the quiet. He moved as if chasing something he already had. Not just pleasure, but connection.
Reece held still beneath him, his strength no longer about control, but surrender. Offering Trent everything and holding nothing back. Letting him take what he needed. Letting him lead.
“Kiss me,” Reece breathed, desperate now. “Please, sweetheart, kiss me while you come.”
Trent leant in, pupils blown wide, lips trembling, and when their mouths met, it wasn’t frantic. It was tender. And as it built, tight and pulsing, the rising wave that threatened to break them both, Reece tangled his fingers in Trent’s hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss.
They came. Mouths fused. Bodies trembling. Hearts pounding hard enough to bruise . And even as the last shocks ran through him, hips stuttering and breath catching, Trent never pulled away . And Reece held him there.
Because this was the place they’d fought through fire and blood to reach.
And against every odd and every fear, they were home.
And it had been worth every bruise to get there.