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It wasn’t. We hadn’t been going nearly long enough for that, and one thing I had in spades was stamina. But it provided an excellent excuse to slide my hand beneath Keaton’s T-shirt and tweak a nipple.

“Yeah, you like that,” I said when he groaned. “Want me to do it to the other?” I didn’t wait for an answer, presuming it would be a yes. We lapsed into silence then, save for the sounds of pleasure that came from his lips, and the wet squelch of my hand over his cock as I worked it toward climax.

When he came, every muscle locked tight in his body. It was a wonder to behold that made me long for more than candlelight. Bright sunlight that painted every curve and hollow would be my first choice.

I stroked him through the orgasm. He’d come a lot. So much that cum dripped over my fingers. “Messy boy,” I teased. “If I weren’t worried about you biting, I’d make you lick it off.”

Keaton stayed silent. His eyes tracked me, his thoughts unreadable. The jerky had dropped from his mouth, and he followed my gaze to it. “Hungry,” he said.

I laughed. “Typical man. Gets one urge satisfied and immediately moves on to another.” I cleaned him up as best I could before tucking him back in his jeans and fastening them. He hadn’t gone soft, but a slight relaxation in his expression said it had at least taken the edge off. And while he was far from friendly, he no longer looked like he wanted to kill me.

Retrieving another piece of jerky, I held it up. “Open wide.” When he did, I shoved it in, and he obediently chewed. It wouldn’t satiate his hunger; it hadn’t satiated mine. But much like the orgasm, it would ease the ache.

Once he’d finished eating, I retreated to the fire, the water having been bubbling for some time. After taking it off the heat, I left it to cool. It would be up to me to keep him hydrated. Looking after someone tied up was a full-time job. When I headed for the door, Keaton finally found his voice. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be a minute. Try not to miss me too much.”

I made my way to the kitchen, counting on the whistle of the wind through the gaps in the tree branches to mask the sound of what I was doing.

It was a matter of seconds to release my cock. I tried to think of something else, somebody else, while I fisted it, but Keaton’s expression when he’d come was etched on the back of my eyeballs. In the end, I gave in to it, stroking myself off to the memory of him and reaching my own shuddering orgasm in no time at all.

Chapter Ten

Keaton

First light brought pain. The pain of trying to sleep with your arms forced into an unnatural position. Memories hammered at me as I struggled to an upright position to ease the worst of the discomfort.

Rain. Anger and lust. August at the door. Letting me in, but with conditions. Being fastened to the radiator like a dog. Saying things to him I knew in retrospect were awful, even if I couldn’t recall any of the words I’d used. August making me an offer. Stroking me to orgasm.

Jesus! Even thinking about that stoked a fire in my cheeks. I should have told him no. I hadn’t been in charge, though. The damn virus particles circulating through my blood had taken temporary control as they were wont to do, and they hadn’t given a damn about what was right. They’d only cared about getting to come.

“You’re awake then?”

I’d been so busy trying to piece together the events of the previous evening that I hadn’t registered August moving about. He paused from shoving things in his backpack to study me. I met his gaze for only a fraction of a second before looking elsewhere, mortification a permanent itch beneath my skin.

“I’m awake.” My voice sounded dull, like all the life had been stripped from it.

“And are you back to being yourself? Or to put it more bluntly, am I safe to release you?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at me.”

It took an enormous amount of willpower to turn my head, meet his gaze, and hold it this time. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. Leaving his backpack, he came over, crouching behind me to untie the knots in the rope. “Not very comfortable sleeping with your arms tied behind your back, is it?”

“You had a bed,” I pointed out, talking to him easier when I couldn’t see him.

“You weren’t face down.”

He finished with the rope, the pain doubling in intensity when I brought my arms to the front. I was still trying to massage some life into them by the time he’d finished packing the bag and stamped out the fire. August held out a bottle of water, and I took it. “Boiled,” he said. “Just in case you think I’m trying to poison you.”

I took the lid off and downed half of its contents, the familiar smoky taste and tepidity not bothering me as much as it usually did. In the army, we’d had water purification tablets, but out in the real world, they were in short supply and people relied on more basic methods. It was wet, and I was thirsty, and that was all that mattered.

“Are you coming?” August asked from his position over by the door. Screwing the lid of the bottle back on, I climbed gingerly to my feet. My crossbow and knife were on the floor to my right, August watching me with an impassive stare as I retrieved both items, along with my bag.

An awkward silence hung between us once we left the house, one that stretched for some time. “We need food,” August eventually said. “If I’ve got my bearings correct, there’s an orchard around here somewhere. I’d kill for something that’s not meat.”

He sounded remarkably chipper. So perhaps the awkwardness was all on my part. Did that make it more or less awkward? I couldn’t decide. It took a few wrong turns and doubling back before he located the orchard. It was worth the extra steps, though, once it came into view. At this time of year, the fruit weighed the branches down. Apples bigger than any I’d seen before. Succulent looking pears. I squinted into the distance, something dark catching my eye. “Is that…?”