Follow the River

I’m lounging on the couch in the living room, a paperback in hand when Rain comes barreling down the hall in a blur.

He made himself scarce after the first day we got here, not leaving his room unless it was to take a piss or grab something to eat from what I can tell. Who fucking knows what he is doing in his room alone for twenty hours a day other than doing his best to avoid me?

I can’t say I blame him. I want to be stuck here with him for a month as much as he wants to be here with me.

Not at all.

“Where’s the fire?” I laugh in an attempt to defuse any tension when he almost trips on his own damn feet.

We haven’t spoken a word to each other since the first night, when he woke me with his shouts and screams from what I’m assuming is a nightmare.

He’s had them every night since we got here.

I know, because for the past couple days, I’m startled awake in the dead of night to the sound of him battling whatever haunts his dreams. And every night I grab a blanket and pad over to his room, sliding down the wall to sit and wait. Listening to make sure he’s okay. Waiting until he manages to evade his demons and slip back into what, I hope, is a more peaceful slumber.

The lack of sleep on my end is a bitch, but at least I know nothing is hurting him.

Physically, that is.

“There isn’t one, that’s the fucking problem,” he grumbles in a huff as he storms over to the fireplace. He begins building a fire, the muscles of his back and arms taunting me as they flex under the fitted long sleeve shirt he’s wearing.

Why couldn’t the bastard be less attractive?

The saying might go all good guys are either gay or married, but they forget to mention the sexiest ones are always homophobic assholes.

Case in point? Ciaráin fucking Grady.

“Need a hand?” I offer, dog-earring my worn copy of Orwell’s 1984.

“I’ve got it,” he grunts as he strikes a couple matches, tossing them into the pile of logs and newspapers. Soon, the fire is roaring to life, giving the living room a little more heat.

He unfortunately discovered the first night that this cabin, while stu

Rain grabs a blanket from the basket beside the recliner adjacent to the couch I’m laying on and wraps it around himself before sitting on the floor directly in front of the fire.

“Jesus Christ, how do you people survive these kinds of winter? My hands are fucking freezing.”

“Feel free to put them down my pants.”

The words tumble out of my mouth before I have the chance to think twice. It’s a crude comment, one I’d make with any friend and it would almost always be laughed off.

Except this is Rain.

And by the way his spine just snapped to attention, I’m about to regret my lack of filter.

“The fuck did you say to me, Le

In all honesty, there are two ways I can play this. One would be to apologize, say I didn’t mean anything by it.

On the other hand…

“I mean you’d get your hands warm and I’d get some action in the process. Sounds like a win-win to me, Grady.”

Goddamn it, River. Why do you have to antagonize him at every available opportunity?

But I know why. As strange as it is, fighting with him is my favorite kind of foreplay. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get me a little hot and hard.

Rain shoots up from the floor and is instantly hovering over me, both hands plastered to the back of the sofa on either side of my head. His face is so fucking close I can smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath. I have the urge to close the space between us and taste his mouth.

Attraction is a strange thing, and the kind I have for him is dangerous.

Makes-me-stupid-and-reckless kind of dangerous.

Ruin-my-life kind of dangerous.

“Why, River? Why do you have to egg me on when you know it will blow up in your fucking face every time?”

I grin. “You make it so easy. Like right now? There are so many things I could do with that ‘blow’ comment you just made. But I’ll keep it to myself if you promise I’ll get rewarded for being a good boy.”

I feel Rain clench the fabric of the couch cushion in his fists and watch in fascination as he winces slightly before his stubbled jaw ticks in anger. My breath hitches when I think about what it would feel like to run my tongue along it, then down his neck, nipping at his pulse before trailing wet kisses down his pecs...

Fuck, now I’m hard…er.

“Stop fucking with me. Especially with anything related to blowing. Or shit is go

“Not my fault you can’t handle me giving you the best blowjob of your life, man.”

“You didn’t, not even close,” he spews, his voice laced with venom.

I cock a brow. “Really? So you’re telling me you didn’t grab onto my hair and fuck my face until you came so damn hard down my throat, my voice was hoarse the next day?” I nod my head in mock acceptance before continuing, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Okay, yeah. I believe you.”

“That’s not—”

“What happened? Oh, I know. Not at all.” An indignant laugh escapes me. “Why can’t you just accept it? It’s not a big fucking deal a dude blew you and you liked it.”

Rain pushes off the couch with a huff. “I don’t even like you, let alone what you did to me in that locker room.”

What. A. Liar.

Rolling my eyes, I stand and get in his face. “I think you like me a lot more than you’re willing to let yourself admit.”

“And I think you’re fucking delusional and Coach locked me up here with someone who is certifiably insane.”

“And I think I’d rather be batshit crazy than be so uncomfortable in my sexuality to the point where I have to constantly lie about being attracted to someone of the same sex.”

The pulse in his neck is beating rapidly and I can practically see the steam coming from his ears.

Good, I’m getting under his skin.

“In fact,” I continue, “I think the real issue you have is you’re also bi. Just unwilling to acknowledge it. You know, methinks the lad doth protesteth too much and all that.”

Jesus, I’m asking to get decked today.

Again.

“Fuck this,” Rain mumbles, brushing past me to head down the hall, and I’m sure, to the safety of his room.

But do I let it go and relish in my victory?

Nope.

I chase after the douche canoe, reaching his door as it slams closed. Trying the knob, I find he’s already locked himself inside.

“Let me in, Rain,” I growl, pounding my fist against the wood.

“I thought I told you not to fucking call me that?”

Yeah. You did. But all it accomplished was giving me something to use against you.

I ignore his question. “You need to face this head on, man. You can’t run away and hide from me for an entire month. And especially not from the truth about who you really are.”

His roar is muffled by the closed door between us. “Just fucking watch me, Le

I scoff before yelling back. “I mean, yeah you can try. I guess I never took you for a fucking coward!”

From the other side of the door, I hear a slam and a fist co

Looks like I hit a nerve with that one.

Satisfied with his little meltdown, I spin around and head into the bathroom we’ve been sharing. I desperately need to relieve my aching cock from his excitement our little tango caused. Stripping out of my clothes, I turn on the water to the walk-in shower.