Now that he had the prospect of taking out all that frustration and rage on someone who was willing to fight back, something inside him was slowly unclenching.
Dave shook his head in defeat, with a rueful smile touching his lips the way it so often did when it came to Christian. He knew Dave wouldn’t say any more about it. Dave hated violence, but he understood what Christian needed.
Christian put his hand on Dave’s thigh, the ancient denim soft and warm beneath his touch, and it felt good,familiar,rooting him in a way nothing else ever had.
DAVE
“You want to check out the caves tomorrow?” Dave asked as he toed off his shoes. His buzz had mostly worn off, but his limbs still held a loose, end-of-the-night heaviness.
He was stretched out in the one comfortable chair, watching Christian move restlessly around the room like a wolf who hadn’t yet found a place to bed down.
“Might as well,” Christian said, picking up his phone, unlocking it, then locking it again without doing anything. “Talking to more non-shifters isn’t going to get us anywhere. And there might be something to tell us we’re in the right place.”
He didn’t sound like he believed it.
Dave didn’t, either. “Even if we are, all we’re gonna find are rocks and sun-bleached bones,” he said, rubbing a thumb over his temple.
Christian didn’t answer. He stood in front of Dave for a moment, then stepped in, planted one knee on either side of his lap, and straddled him.
Dave blinked up at him.
“Hey,” Christian said, voice a rough-edged drawl.
And then he kissed him. There was no hesitation, no teasing build. Just heat and tongue and the weight of Christian pressing down, mouth open like he needed something only Dave could give.
Dave groaned softly as Christian deepened the kiss, hips shifting in slow, unmistakable rhythm. His hands slid under Dave’s shirt, warm palms mapping familiar territory, leaving Dave weak and breathless.
When he finally broke away, Christian was flushed, his breath ragged. He stared at Dave like he was the only thing that mattered right now.
“Goddamn it,” Christian said. “I want you to fuck me.”
He rarely asked for that, and the trust laid bare when he did always left Dave breathless. Dave’s heart kicked once, hard. He nodded, thumb brushing over Christian’s hip as he leaned in again, kissing him until he couldn’t wait any longer.
They undressed without ceremony, tossing clothes aside as Christian moved to the bed. He stretched out on his back, eyes locked on Dave.
He took his time, working Christian open with steady fingers and slow kisses pressed to the inside of his thigh. When he finally pressed inside, Christian arched up with a broken sound, hands braced against Dave’s arms like he needed an anchor.
“You’re good,” Dave whispered, voice rough. “I’ve got you.”
Christian didn’t answer, but the way he moved—desperate and open and still somehow in control—said more than words could have.
Dave kept his rhythm steady, every thrust grounding them both. When Christian came, it was with a soft, almost startled sound, a breath punched out of him. Quiet and private, like it cost him something to let it go.
Dave treasured that sound more than anything. Christian didn’t talk when he bottomed, as if he was already giving everything he could. He was letting Dave give him pleasure—and for Christian, that was close to surrender. The ultimate trust he could offer.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, breath slowing, skin damp. Christian rested against him, loose-limbed and open in a way he never was with anyone else. He never saidI love you. He didn’t need to. Dave could feel it in every breath, every moment of trust.
That didn’t stop Dave needing to hear it, even just once, whispered into the dark. Something for him to hold on to.
Chapter Four
CHRISTIAN
The next morning, after finally getting his cinnamon roll—one full day later than any reasonable person should have to wait—they tried the diner across from the motel. It wasn’t exactly Jason-level cooking, but it was food. Christian ordered a stack of pancakes with syrup, while Dave picked his way through a sad little bowl of fruit, accompanied by dry toast.
“You sure you don’t want some of this?” Christian asked, gesturing at his plate. HeknewDave wouldn’t eat animal products, but it felt bad to dig in when Dave was nibbling like a damn hummingbird. “Syrup, maybe?”
Dave drew a finger through the pool of syrup and sucked it off slowly—not teasing, exactly, but notnoteither. Then he began dipping each tired slice of fruit like this was some gourmet brunch and not a sticky booth with peeling vinyl seats. Christian picked up his fork and pushed the remaining syrup toward Dave’s side of the plate without a word. He ate the rest of the pancakes dry, buthe didn’t give a shit. Dave was smiling, and that made the syrup worth losing.
