“Knock it off, guys,” said Marston, his voice commanding and low over the water as Gabe began to swim in the group’s direction.
Even as Gabe gave Gordy a hard talking to, Kell’s skin still shimmered from Marston’s touch, the firmness of his arm, the movement pushing Kell back. And how, as Marston’s gaze turned to him, sweeping him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Kell nodded, his chin ducking into the water, but in the growing darkness, he was not okay.
He wanted more than he had. He wanted to swim right up close to Marston, so close that he might feel the warmth of Marston’s skin through the coolness of the water. Feel the shimmy of movement as Marston’s arms and legs moved below the surface. Bump close enough for whatever might follow.
“I see lightning,” said someone. It could have been Gabe or it might have been Royce. It was darker now, a ripple of wind across the water cool on Kell’s shoulders. It was smart to get out, and maybe they might gather in the mess tent for another round of hot cocoa. But what he really wanted was—
“Hey.”
Marston’s warm breath moved across Kell’s bare, damp-speckled shoulder. Marston was right there, up close, treading water, his arms in a half circle around Kell. There was an energy in Marston’s blue-gold eyes, a question, a pause, dampness on his cheeks, a lock of wet hair curling on his forehead, a half-tilt to his head as he neither moved forward nor back, but stayed, a waiting watchfulness all around him.
Catching his breath, Kell eased into the circle of Marston’s arms and lifted his chin, catching Marston’s mouth with his own. Tasted the dampness, felt the warmth, the response as Marston didn’t draw away but let their lips linger, sweet and petal soft, the falling darkness all around.
When he opened his eyes, all he could see was Marston with a slender silver jag of lighting over Guipago Ridge, gray and looming, lit up for a single heartbeat, then falling into shadow again.
Kell wanted to push into Marston’s arms and let the two of them sink below the surface of the water so they could be alone. But the moment, spare and shear-edged vanished as Gabe clambered up the ladder and was shouting at them to get out because a storm was on the way, and then Royce added that lightning could arc over a distance of ten miles and that safety was paramount.
“Guess we better get out,” said Kell, treading water, breathless.
“Guess we better,” said Marston, though he didn’t look happy about it at all, which made Kell smile and his heart sing.
They both swam toward the dock, and Kell scrambled up behind Marston, the last one out. Which meant that there were no towels left for the two of them. Which meant they had to get into clothes with wet skin, or use the tail end of a damp towel that Duane held out with a wicked laugh.
“You can come back to my tent and dry off at least a little,” said Marston, low, under his breath as he shook droplets from his hair that fell like silver in the air, lit up by faraway lightning.
“Okay.”
The response sounded faint to Kell’s ears, and it almost didn’t make any sense to do what Marston was suggesting, as his own tent was just beyond where Marston’s was, and not all that far away. He could just as easily dry off a bit in his own tent, and his clothes were already sticking to him, so what difference would a few more feet make?
In spite of this logic, he followed Marston, one of the flashlights in his hand, bringing up the rear, keeping his head down because he wasn’t sure if he should let any of the others see that he was stopping at Marston’s tent. Even he knew that the single kiss they’d shared—his first kiss!—was very likely against some rule or other. Even he knew that to share more than that would definitely be breaking the rules, and if they were to do that, he didn’t want anyone to be watching.
“Come on in,” said Marston as he went up the single pair of steps to the wooden platform in front of his tent. He unzipped the screen and reached in to turn on the light, a simple overhead bulb. Then he stepped in and gestured for Kell to follow.
Inside, the tent was laid out very simply, perhaps even more simply than the one Kell shared with Wayne, which had clothes and boots all over the place, books stacked haphazardly on the shelves between the cots, Wayne’s dirty underwear beneath his cot.
Marston’s tent, on the other hand, was as neat as an army barracks, and quite bare, except for the single book from the mess tent’s library, a ratty shaving kit, a neatly made cot, and the green inlay cowboy boots and yellow work boots neatly lined up on the bottom shelf.
“Let me get you a towel,” said Marston as he turned to his shelf and pulled out a white towel, clean and rolled up.
“Get one for yourself, too,” said Kell, because Marston had pulled on his clothes over wet skin, just like Kell had. Marston’s hair was still dripping down the back of his neck, and his soft gray t-shirt was sticking to him in places.
“I’m fine,” said Marston. He unrolled the towel and lifted it and began to dry Kell’s hair and the back of his neck.
Kell let him, stepping forward, a stumble, really, into the strong curve of Marston’s arms. Into the warmth of that embrace, droplets drying along Marston’s neck, curling his fingers into Marston’s damp and oh-so-soft t-shirt.
“What?” asked Marston, just that, a single word, a query as to how he’d found himself with an armful of Kell.
“Please.”
Marston ducked his chin, looking at Kell with half-lidded and very bright eyes, unsmiling, almost stern.
“Oh,” he said, the word coming out a joyous sound, and then, without another moment’s hesitation, he pulled Kell to him, hard, his hands on Kell’s arms, letting the towel drop, and kissed him, intensity and heat all at once, shocking Kell breathless, eager, his head going back, wanting to wrap his arms around Marston’s shoulders, but he couldn’t because Marston held him fast.
The kiss ended too soon and Marston let him go, not quite shoving Kell away, but taking a step back himself. He stooped to grab the towel and balled it in his hands.
