| Inspired by the following line from
‘Shadow of the Jaguar’ by Steven Savile: “The clammy press of
Stephen’s hand against his skin sent a shiver through
Cutter’s exhausted body.” Even with the sun down, the heat in the still air was stifling. Both men were covered in sweat, dirt and blood, the carcases of insects smeared on their arms and faces, ash from the camp’s fire in their hair. Despite the soldiers on guard duty on the perimeter, Nick could feel the threat of death from the black of the forest pressing in all around them. And right now, Stephen represented life. In the tent, Nick desperately pulled Stephen down on top of him. His hands were clammy, sending shivers across his flushed, burning skin, waking his exhausted body. Sticky fingers got under his rank T-shirt to tease the skin over his stomach and ribs, legs tangling, boots thumping. Nick fumbled between them to unzip Stephen’s jeans, unbutton his own combats, that first touch of flesh against flesh causing desire to flare, dragging groans from both of them, sounds quickly swallowed in a frantic, dirty kiss – mouths clashing, tongue delving for tonsils, hands scrabbling to get as near to naked as they dare. Looking up into Stephen’s dark face, Nick swallowed, locked their gazes and deliberately slipped a tight fist over his erection. Stephen growled - God help him, Nick could love that sound – and shifted his hips, hands on Nick’s, holding him in place. Nick hooked his thumb around his own cock and brought them both together, length to length, fingers moving to clutch at Stephen’s denim-clothed arse, lifting his head with some effort to look down their closely tangled bodies before dropping it back to the thin tent floor. Eyes met and held, meaningful and heated, as Stephen thrust forward and rocked back, setting a rhythm, keeping sounds trapped in his throat as Nick was fighting to do. Animalistic need drove them, hot and sweaty, towards the inevitable climax, orgasms sweeping over them like tidal waves. Stephen kissed him to cover the noise, catching the sob that rose in Nick’s throat and the blasphemy that followed it. He murmured something Nick didn’t quite hear, then he dropped onto Nick’s aching body, burrowing his face in Nick’s shoulder for a few, long seconds before rolling off him onto one side. “Jesus,” he whispered, the word heavy in the hot, sticky darkness. “Yeah.” Still bone-weary, Nick felt endorphins like a heady mix of coffee and Red Bull searing through his veins. He got an arm under Stephen’s neck, fingers spread on his hard muscled arm, dark head coming to rest against his shoulder, Silence fell between them, Nick’s heart thundering, pulse racing, Stephen’s heat just perfect along the right side of his body. “Don’t die, tomorrow.” The plea came out of the darkness and Nick opened his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he promised emphatically. “Good.” Stephen draped an arm over Nick’s stomach. “Because I want to do this on a bed, with a mattress and clean sheets.” “That sounds like a great reason not to get ripped apart by beasties.” “The best.” |