Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Without another word, Kyle slides down into the deep and narrow pit, standing at the bottom with his back flat against the wall, then peers up. Drake pulls a few wide, flat stones to the edge of the pit, like a lid, then dangles his legs. “Will you do us the honor of sliding these sick puppies over the opening when I’m snug inside?” he asks Mikey, before he spreads his legs slightly, minding Kyle, then begins to lower himself into the hole.
It is an act that, with Kyle in the way, proves to not be easy.
Kyle suspects it wasn’t meant to be.
At first, just Drake’s legs slide into the pit. Then comes the crotch of his jeans, pressing rather deliberately against Kyle’s face and seeming to hang there. “Hey, help pull me down a bit more,” says Drake, “unless you’re, um, enjoying the view.”
Kyle grabs hold of the bottom of Drake’s legs as best as he can and helps tug him downward. Overhead, the sky is growing dangerously brighter. Soon, it’s Drake’s stomach against Kyle’s face, then his chest, then their faces are in front of each other.
A grunt is heard overhead before the light is slowly eclipsed as the wide, flat stones are slid over the opening above, like the lid to a vertical coffin sliding shut. Three stones is all it takes until every trace of light is gone. Kyle’s eyes adjust, making out the side of Drake’s face, chin resting on Kyle’s shoulder, arms by each other’s side. For some reason, Kyle hadn’t anticipated how intimate this situation would feel. Maybe the urgency of the sun rising caused him to neglect certain considerations, including whether or not he might start to feel claustrophobic.
“You okay?” whispers Drake, the soft words nearly tickling Kyle’s ear.
“Far from,” answers Kyle.
“I know,” he says. “This is a less than ideal circumstance. I doubt I’m at the top of your list of guys you’d love to be buried pressed up against. Assuming you carry such a list. Do you carry such a list? Forget I asked, stupid question.”
The two remain in silence a moment.
From above comes a muffled voice. “You guys okay? You dead down there? Can you breathe?”
“We’re fine,” Kyle calls out.
“Dandy,” answers Drake. “Get some rest. Take care of my jacket. Don’t you dare run off with it, it’s a one-of-a-kind!”
“Where the hell would I go anyway?” Mikey returns in his muffled voice. Then come the crunching sounds of Mikey lying atop the stones, presumably getting as comfortable as he can manage. The sounds include a couple of muffled curse words and a miserable groan.
Drake turns his face slightly. “We should probably get a bit of rest, too.”
“Yeah,” agrees Kyle mildly, closing his eyes.
Silence passes.
Kyle feels a hand touch his waist, slowly sliding down his hip, then grazing the side of his ass. “Drake,” he says warningly.
“Just finding somewhere comfortable to put my hands.”
“Put them in your pockets, then.”
“Can I put them in yours?”
“No.”
“It’d be easier. Like this.” Drake slides his hands into the back pockets of Kyle’s jeans. “See? Put yours in mine. Then our bodies would be supporting each other as we rest.”
“I’m not—” Kyle sighs. To be fair, his arms are dangling in the miniscule amount of open space by their sides. He slides his hands blindly around Drake’s hips, around to his ass, searching for his back pockets. He seems to have trouble finding them.
Drake turns his face more. “Enjoying yourself back there?”
“Can’t find your pockets.”
“Keep feeling around. My cheeks could use a massage.”
Kyle rolls his eyes, drops his hands away. “Never mind.”
“Hey, hey, just teasing.” Drake’s nose is near Kyle’s ear, his every breath like a gentle ocean wave. Kyle feels soft lips on the side of his neck, right where it’s most tender. “God, this is so … so tempting.”
“Don’t make me thrust you out of this hole into the sun.”
“I love when you talk dirty.”
“I’m serious, Drake. I’m not here to fuck around.”
Drake’s lips pucker in the slightest, almost like a kiss. Kyle simply bears it. What else can he do? They’re sandwiched by hard, unrelenting stone, sardines in the tin can of earth itself. He feels each and every squirm of Drake’s body. He feels the pulsing of Drake’s cock against his own through the tightly-pressed-together crotches of their jeans. Their hearts beat as one with their chests squeezed together. It is as deeply intimate a situation as Kyle fears he’ll ever find himself in.
Only it’s not with Elias.
And the more turned on Drake becomes, the more it flows stubbornly straight into Kyle’s system via the Reach, confusing him worse and worse by the second. Is Kyle turned on at all by this situation? Or is it all Drake? Can he even separate their feelings any more than he can separate their bodies?