AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was the strangest thing. One minute it was pattering down, the next it shifted into full sun, the solid sheet sweeping through the southern valley like slate-colored broom bristles.
Left behind was a world of green, the saturation turned to maximum. Mist curled in dragon tendrils from the lowest parts of the valley, the accumulation of humidity finally able to rise.
Luca checked one last time with the Command Center—not Sandy, who usually finished her shifts around two, but one of the rotating old men who manned the microphone when she wasn’t around. They confirmed that the storm was turning north, and the evening was predicted to be clear and cool.
Not that any of those men in the Center knew what Luca was actually planning for this evening. Even Sandy didn’t know that Artair had hung around.
It wasn’t that Luca had kept it from her. It just hadn’t come up in conversation after that first day. And he hadn’t been in a rush to prompt it.
As he stepped out the door and into the softness of late afternoon, he realized that he hadn’t brought anything to share for their dinner. It wasn’t like Artair was expecting him to. In fact, he’d specifically told Luca not to worry about bringing anything.
But still, you had to bring something, right?
That was basic manners.
Luca leaned his head back into the tower and frowned at his shelf of food, not due to be replenished until the next helicopter drop in midsummer, three weeks away. There was nothing good there, and even with Artair’s own lack of provisions, turning up with half a bag of all-purpose flour or a tin of refried beans didn’t exactly scream hostess gift.
If Luca had thought about it ahead of time, he might have tried to collect some honey from the hives and bring Artair a jarful. Not that he had the first clue how to actually do that.
Just as Luca was wondering if it might be worth collecting some wildflowers on the walk, or whether that gesture might set entirely the wrong tone, he remembered something that he’d seen on his first day in the tower.
A rummage among the low roof of the main shed and Luca was palming a few bottles of a dark, golden liquid—the glass dusty but well sealed with their little metal levers. He’d never been a massive drinker, but the only other time he’d seen bottles like this was in his college dorm, when a bunch of people got into brewing their own beer. All competing to see whose mix was best—or, more usually, the least awful.
A move of some heavy sheets revealed the same kinds of jugs and funnels that his college friends had used, confirming that the bottles probably contained something alcoholic, brewed up by whoever the last fire watch was.
Beer? Cider?
Who knew. But still, it was either this or the jumbo pack of marshmallows he’d been consciously avoiding for weeks now.
And besides, a few bottles of mystery drink seemed fitting for the evening’s menu.
Why don’t we think of it as an adventure?
It took under an hour to get to Artair’s camp, a fair bit quicker than last time, aided by both the knowledge of the way and the allure of the destination.
Not that Luca was in too much of a hurry, excited though he was to see Artair again. It seemed wrong to race through the post-rain woods, so crisp and clear. Gold glinted everywhere the misty sunlight filtered, as if every leaf and blade of grass was wearing a sparkling tourmaline earring. The image was enhanced by the gentle clink of bottles in his hiking pack, making the glint clearer and the sparkle somehow more dazzling.
It was funny how quickly he’d adapted back into the outdoors way of life. In Seattle, or even Lynden, wandering off for a two-hour round trip would’ve seemed mad. But out here, with the slower pace and fewer things to distract him, it was a treat to just take off in a random direction and go wherever he liked.
Each step of waterproof leather through wet shrub brought him deeper into the daydream, imagining the strong, furry man out on the dewy grass, soaking up rays.
Maybe Artair would be on his belly this time, forearms outstretched as his pillow, with his huge bear ass bulging in the post-lunch glow.
Maybe he’d see Luca arriving out the corner of one eye and slide his hips into the air. Waggling those massive cheeks. Offering up his vulnerability to the smaller man.
Willing Luca to take it.
Willing Luca to take him.
Luca would welcome that. He loved either bunk in the bed, and there was nothing hotter than a larger, stronger man giving himself over in submission. Of parting ass cheeks you could barely even grip. Of sliding your tongue into their most vulnerable spot, making the man coo and moan as you took command of their furry?—
Whoah! he thought, deliberately snapping himself out of the inadvertent daydream and the stiffening it had caused. The ease that he’d slipped into those thoughts reminding him of why he’d avoided dinner with Artair in the first place.
Remember what’s at stake, horny boy.
Just as Luca was rounding a familiar bend between two mighty spruce trees—the vivid needles dripping with more gems than a debutante ball—he stopped.
Just like last time, he sensed the camp before he sighted it. But this time it wasn’t the smell of smoke that told him the path was right.
