Dhavi is on his way to getting the professional
respect he knows he deserves. He’s landed a corporate sponsorship to be the
first paleologist to prospect on a faraway planet, and finding a spectacular
fossil there will set him up for life. But when he discovers his worst rival,
and former friend, is also going to be there, years of resentment ignite his
temper.
Breon is shocked to learn he’s sharing equipment
with his old study partner on this important expedition, and he’s worried that
the enmity between them will sabotage any potential discoveries they might
make. Resolving to make the best of it, he tries to cooperate, but savage
creatures, dangerous weather, and geologic hazards all conspire to make the
fieldwork every bit as perilous as trying to ignore the attraction to Dhavi.
With the frosty ground shaking under their feet,
Dhavi and Breon have to save each other, and in the process, heat up a shared
sleeping bag. But when it comes time to return with their findings, those old
hurts flare to life, sending them on their separate ways.
There’s one last chance for them at the exhibit
opening, but are either of them brave enough to risk their hearts again?
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Dhavi must had heard a smidge of encouragement
tacked on to the delayed response, because he crowded even closer to Breon’s
side and pressed his full lips to his neck, right in that spot that made
Breon’s knee joints loosen. “Are you interested in men?”
“Yes, some,” Breon managed to croak out after a
fraught pause. Dhavi rose beside him, his face a shadow in the fragmented light
of the shelter. The cold wind outside kicked up a notch and Breon shivered,
relishing Dhavi’s weight along his side.
“Really? I never knew.”
“You never asked.”
“I never caught you looking, not once. Even when
Olad would wander through the common room half naked and sweaty after a plekko
match. Remember him? He was astonishingly attractive.” Dhavi almost laughed.
“Do you like how I look?”
“Yes.” Breon’s breath disappeared as he tried to
speak. His body was as tense as if an electrical charge was coursing through
and he thought he might die if Dhavi kissed him. Dhavi leaned down and Breon’s
heart stuttered in his chest, but it kept beating, hard enough he wondered if
Dhavi could hear it.
Without another word, Dhavi leaned down and bumped
his nose to Breon’s. A puff of his breath flickered across Breon’s lips, then
he gingerly pressed his mouth to Breon’s. Incoherent thoughts careened through
his mind as Dhavi slowly shifted his lips, then took a slow, inexorable nibble on
first the upper, then the lower. Was his breath fresh? Did he smell of sweat
and fear? Was that Dhavi’s hard cock rubbing against his hip as Dhavi flexed
his body above him? Commanding his scattered brain to shut up, Breon reached up
and tentatively rubbed his palm along Dhavi’s back, his fingers sliding up and
down all that bare skin, along swells of muscle, hoping he didn’t accidentally
brush against a bruise.
Dhavi slid his tongue between Breon’s lips and
waited a bit as if to ask whether it was permissible. When Breon opened his
mouth, Dhavi rumbled out a pleased noise and deepened the kiss, always with a
pause before every new movement. Breon’s cock throbbed and without much thought
he reached down and squeezed himself, then cupped his balls, urging his body to
calm down. A kiss was a matter of attraction and entreaty, not a promise of
sex.
“Why did you stop touching … ah, I understand,”
Dhavi whispered. “Let me do that.”
It was difficult for Breon to believe that the man
he’d wanted for so long, even through the long estrangement, was now embracing
him, was now nudging his hand away so he could measure and grasp Breon’s cock.
Dhavi licked at his neck as he stroked up and down Breon’s length through the
layers of quilted thermal garments.
“I’d wondered about this. Did you ever think about
about mine?”
“Yes.” Breon knew he was gasping, but couldn’t do
anything about his lack of control. Dhavi rocked his hip against Breon, which
he took as an invitation, one he was almost afraid to take. He wanted Dhavi,
had always wanted him, it seemed, but now that the time had arrived, he was
shaking with insecurity. A large part of him couldn’t even believe this was
happening.
“Touch me.” Dhavi nosed at Breon’s jaw as if to urge
him on.
“I…” Breon gulped and was immediately ashamed. He
was nearly mute like an untested youth, hardly an attractive trait.
“We need this, don’t we?” Dhavi touched the tip of
his tongue to the corner of Breon’s mouth.
“Yes.” Breon relented, accepting this would happen.
Even if it didn’t live up to the fantasy, it was still something he would not
deny. With that acceptance, his body performed a curious, simultaneous
relaxation and escalation of tension. With a jolt, he remembered Dhavi’s
request, and fumbled his way to his waist, allowing his hand to trace along
Dhavi’s hipbone before travelling lower. When his fingertips encountered
Dhavi’s rigid cock jutting out from the soft fabric of his undershorts, his own
member throbbed. Breon listened to Dhavi whisper encouragement in his ear as he
rubbed his fingers along the length. As his reward, he received an answering
caress in turn.
It was so warm under the blanket, sweat broke out
all over his skin.
His muscles tightened as the breath caught in his
throat. Dhavi kept touching, skimming one hand along Breon’s chest, pressing
his lips to his neck, then returning his attention to Breon’s aching cock. When
Dhavi slid his palm lower to cup Breon’s balls, he gasped aloud as his hips
arched up. He lost hold of Dhavi and thoughtlessly threaded his fingers into
his hair, the bedding, anything he might grip to keep himself on the bed.
Pulses shot through his calves and thighs as his cock strained. Dhavi coiled
above him, still kissing, still stroking and intent on Breon’s body. In agony,
Breon tugged at his pants, desperate to free himself, needing Dhavi’s skin to
slide against his with primal urgency.
His hands tangled with Dhavi’s and he hoped
desperately he didn’t misunderstand, didn’t think he was pushing away. His cock
was caught in folds of stretchy fabric and he yelped out a curse of
frustration.
“Let me,” Dhavi whispered directly into his ear, and
again, Breon sank back, shifting his body to allow Dhavi to untangle him. As
soon as Dhavi’s hand slid up his length and closed over the head of his cock,
Breon pressed his head against the mattress, his eyes tightly shut as his
impulses took over. Warm and firm strokes, one after the other in an
unrelenting rhythm made his knees draw up and his thighs open as if his body
was begging for unrestrained access. Dhavi rubbed his thumb along the underside
of his cock in a knowing stimulation. He was reeling with the crushing
realization Dhavi was touching him so intimately, like the dreams he’d
entertained so shamefully. Reality was infinitely better.
About the author:
J. J. Lore has been interested in the
dashing men who roam outer space since she was transfixed by Han Solo piloting
the Millennium Falcon a long time ago in a theatre far, far away. Sadly, there
is no way for her to join in the fun of intergalactic adventures unless she
writes them, so that’s what she does whenever she isn’t taking care of the
business of life. If you can’t find her typing madly on her sluggish keyboard,
she’s probably poking around in a thrift store searching for the perfect pair
of worn jeans or a vintage kachina bolo tie. These days she puts her
anthropology degree to work when she whips up dishes from many different
cultures, most of which benefit from a liberal dose of sriracha or a smear of
green curry paste. Her favorite reading topics are costume history,
epidemiology, and permaculture, all of which she’d like to work into a story if
she’s suddenly overcome with a brilliant idea someday.
Twitter: @JJLore1
Website: www.jjlore.com
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