Authors: Jane Davitt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright 2009 by Jane Davitt
Cover illustration by Alessia Brio
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-60370-841-8, 1-60370-841-3
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: October 2009
Printed in the USA
Tyler opened his eyes a crack and studied the pale light seeping into the bedroom through the curtains that Dan was holding open. Yeah, it was snowing, but he didn't know why Dan sounded excited about it. It was January. Snow happened.
Dan was naked, his bare feet shifting on the spot to avoid prolonged contact with the wooden floor, which meant that when he got back into bed, he'd be pressing cold skin against Tyler. Finding out that it was snowing didn't seem worth the discomfort to come and the present lack of Dan beside him. Tyler decided that he was getting soft. Six months of sleeping with someone who squirmed close at the first sign that Tyler was awake, arms and legs wrapping around him with flattering enthusiasm, did that to a man.
On the other hand, while Tyler was currently missing out on sleepy kisses and wandering hands, he had a good view of Dan's ass and the long line of his back, winter-pale skin covered in goose bumps. He hummed appreciatively, and Dan turned, still holding the curtain, blue eyes narrowed in pretended exasperation. Not that Tyler was really looking much at Dan's face…
"Yeah, I heard you. Not sure why you're surprised; the storm's been forecast for a few days now." Tyler ran his tongue across his teeth and felt the fur from one beer too many the night before. "And it's snowed already this winter. On Christmas Day, the ground was white."
Tyler grunted and fought off a feeling of claustrophobia. He wasn't trapped, pinned down, or helpless, no matter how much it felt that way. His truck might not be able to make it down the long lane to the road, but he sure as hell could if he had to. He reminded himself, as he did at least once most days, that as far as he knew, no one was looking for him, and if they were, the storm would slow them down -- and found himself staring at the computer desk drawer where he kept one of his spare guns.
Dan wasn't seeing the storm as anything but pure fun, and Tyler didn't want to ruin it for him. Dan grinning and lit up was like espresso on legs, the energy and enthusiasm contagious, and if Tyler could only take small sips before he had to walk away and find some peace, well, he knew ways to harness that energy and make it work for him.
They didn't all involve Dan being naked, either; when the storm blew out, there was shoveling to be done, and it was going to be a nice change to have help with that.
Dan didn't keep him waiting, landing on the bed with a thud a moment later. It reminded Tyler of his mother's cat, who'd woken him up like that every day one summer vacation after discovering how to open doors with his paw. Tyler had always suspected that Fluffy had had some help from his mother with the finer details of that little trick, but it hadn't been worth arguing over. Fluffy had usually just curled up next to him, purring and lulling Tyler back to sleep, anyway.
"True," Tyler allowed, rubbing his hands over Dan to warm him, a less than altruistic gesture. Dan felt good this close, his arms working their way around Tyler, one leg pushed between Tyler's thighs. "Maybe I'll just get you some bed socks."
Dan rolled them so that he was astride Tyler, the covers pulled up around his neck. He rocked his hips slowly, kindling a flame of arousal deep in Tyler's gut and the words Tyler had intended to say melted away. Silent now, his eyes half closed, Dan used Tyler's skin to get hard, the soft swell of his cock stiffening as it rubbed and brushed against Tyler's stomach.
Tyler put his hands on Dan's hips, his thumbs fitting into the hollow of bone and his fingers spread over the curve of Dan's ass. His hands knew this hold now; knew where to press lightly, where to dig in. He used his hands to urge Dan to speed up the languid shift back and forth and turned just enough to make Dan's next slow, teasing thrust meet his own growing erection. Dan held still at the first touch of Tyler's cock, and his eyes went blank for a moment, then he let himself fall forward, his mouth greedy on Tyler's, the careful, measured rhythm lost as he bucked and writhed.
Dan choked out something incoherent, his dark hair, still shoulder-length
tickling Tyler's arm as he bit down on Tyler's neck, and Tyler allowed himself to be swept along with him. Tyler couldn't move much with Dan's weight bearing down on him, but he got his cock lined up with Dan's and clamped his hands on the meat of Dan's ass, guiding Dan's wild thrusts.
"No snow blower?" Dan looked as if he wasn't quite sure if he was being teased or not. The storm had blown itself out, and the afternoon sky was a pale blue shimmer dusted with leftover wisps of cloud. "Come on, you've got to have one."
"Yeah, I keep it in the top drawer in the kitchen. Why don't you run and get it?" Tyler shook his head. "Think, boy; if I'd had one, you'd have seen it. Of course, you'd have to use your eyes and brain at the same time, and I can see how that'd be tricky."
Tyler didn't want to be linked with Dan's father in any sense, so he gave Dan a vaguely apologetic grimace and explained, "It doesn't snow that much out here most years, and they're noisy." Tyler liked being able to hear if there was someone coming. His lawn mower was powered by his muscles. "Besides, the exercise will do you good. Your ass has been pretty much welded to the couch recently."
"No job," Dan said succinctly. He'd taken odd jobs around town and on some of the local farms in late summer and fall, heading out early and coming home late, which hadn't pleased Tyler much. He approved of Dan's independence, but the hours alone in the cabin had passed slowly. They probably had before Dan showed up in his life, too, but he hadn't noticed it as much. Work had dried up once the tourists left and the crops were safely harvested. Tyler had gotten Dan back underfoot then, but he'd seen Dan's restlessness grow until it matched his own.
When spring came, they'd pack up and go, but Dan had wanted these months together before they set off on their travels, and Tyler had to admit that it'd been a good idea. The way he felt about Dan had mellowed and deepened after living with him. It hadn't all been smiles and sex. He'd discovered some habits of Dan's that irritated him -- and been informed of his own shortcomings a few times, too -- and they'd had some spectacular fights. Dan, mindful of his promise not to run away again, had stood his ground with the tenacity of a bulldog, all snap and bite, and Tyler, for the first time in his life, had found himself backing down, reconsidering his position -- hell, even apologizing once or twice.
He'd begun to suspect that he was getting a back ache, not from too much sex in weird places, but from being wrapped around Dan's little finger. Filling three bowls with Halloween candy at Dan's insistence, even though no one ever came trick or treating and Tyler liked it that way, had kind of rubbed that truth in.
Dan, buzzed on sugar, had been a sweet treat all by himself, impish and tempting, sprawled out on their bed, one hand stroking his cock, the other tied -- by Dan -- to a bed post with one of Tyler's best silk ties. Tyler had leaned in the doorway, watching the show until Dan was close to coming. Then he'd tied up Dan's other wrist, sacrificing a second strip of expensive silk, and sat at the end of the bed, fully clothed. It'd taken Dan a surprisingly long time to realize that Tyler wasn't planning to touch him or to release him until after he'd come, and when he had, he'd gone from cajoling to creative as he fought for his release in every sense of the word. Tyler had looked his fill, smiling, ready to untie Dan at the first genuine sign of discomfort or panic.
"All I needed was to look at you," Tyler told him, and let Dan see the damp stain where spunk had soaked into the front of Tyler's jeans. He grinned. "I never knew I had a kink for you tied up, doing an impression of a hooked fish."
He'd saved the ties. They were no good for their original purpose, twisted and creased as they were -- and not ideal for the use Dan had put them to -- but Tyler could get hard just from running them through his hands, silk-cool and light.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Tyler told him with a smirk. "You think about sex more than I do," Dan said, pursing his lips in what Tyler assumed was an attempt to look disapproving. It failed to convince. "I'm going to ask Anne to prescribe you whatever the opposite of Viagra is."
Dan with a raw nose and a croak for a voice had been plaintively endearing for the first day. Tyler had given him chicken broth, aspirin, and a certain amount of sympathy. By day two, Dan had been fretful and demanding; by day three, dictatorial and whiny.
On the fourth day, Tyler had driven into town and stayed there until he was reasonably sure that he wasn't going to ram the thermometer Dan was insisting on using every hour into a place it had never been designed to go.
Tyler was looking forward to it. He wanted to feel his muscles ache and see something visible come of that ache. Exercise gave him the first, but not the second. "Yeah. You clear the doors and a path to the woodshed, and I'll dig out the truck. Bring some more wood into the lean-to while you're out there."
Tyler had given himself the more difficult task. The woodshed was, sensibly, close to the house, but in winter he stored his truck in a deceptively rickety shed twenty or thirty yards away, and it was going to take an hour to shovel a path to its doors and from there to the start of the narrow lane connecting Tyler's cabin to the main road.
Clearing the lane wasn't on Tyler's to-do list -- spring would come before he finished that task -but knowing that his truck was accessible would make him feel better, even if he couldn't drive it far before the snow stopped him. His insecurities weren't logical, but he'd never asked that of them, so he didn't care.
Still grumbling about people who failed to take advantage of technological advances being unAmerican -- the closest Dan had ever come to expressing a political opinion in Tyler's presence
- Dan picked up a snow shovel from the nail on the lean-to wall and stomped out into the white hush that had followed the storm.