Shit. I think he’s finally crashed.
I crawl over to him. “Give me your shirt,” I say, pulling it up as I try to take it off. That snaps Hank back to reality, and he letsout a surprised laugh as he gently pushes me away. “Okay, I got it,” he says.
He pulls his t-shirt off, and I take it from him. I kick off my filthy dress pants, too, and spread them out on the rocks. When I turn, Hank has his pants in his hands, and he nervously shoves them to me.
I’m in my favorite pink briefs, and he’s in a slightly loose pair of gray boxer briefs that go halfway down his thigh, and that fail to hide the heavy weight of his dick.
It’s important that I don’t think about the fact that Hank is apparently hung. I’ll just have that information, and I’ll know it going forward, but it will be something that I don’t ever think about. Totally chill.
Hank leans back, huddling from the rain again, and pulls his knees up. I get next to him and find a comfortable spot as we watch the growing storm.
Lightning explodes somewhere over the water.
“Lie down with me,” I tell him. “We’ll cuddle and keep each other warm.”
Hank looks at me and nods slowly. “Okay. But I need to keep my hand elevated.”
We get horizontal on the hard ground, the dry dirt beneath us. Hank and I lie almost touching for a moment before I wiggle closer to him.
“For warmth,” I murmur, and Hank turns, getting behind me. He puts his arm over my chest, holding me with his hand on my shoulder.
“How’s this?”
His body is sturdy and warm, and I immediately wiggle closer, chasing away the chill of the storm. His musky scent goes to my brain.
We settle into an embrace.
“Good,” I say, my voice dry.
It’s a relief to be held, even as I know he’s frustrated with me after I stopped us from finding a better shelter.
We’re stuck on the island. I’m hungry and tired and cold, and branches are whipping menacingly in the wind around us.
It absolutely sucks, but at least I have a decent guy to hold onto.
