Taron liked the sound of that so much he didn’t even care if it was a lie or not. That was so hot. How would it be to have Colin around, though? Now that they’d fucked again, would Colin want to laze around all day in a hammock, or would he be up for helping around the homestead? If he could do some of the gardening, Taron’s workload would become much smaller. He didn’t like to hire people, because they always got too nosy, and communication was hard because most didn’t know sign language. And Colin… he had to stay here anyway.
Taron stroked the fingers touching him without prompting. At least he knew that Colin did like to be fucked by him.
Colin smirked and tickled Taron’s hand, gravitating closer until Taron could smell his hair. “It’s weird, but now that my brain isn’t so goddamn busy with cramming all the time, I actually want to spend time with people.”
That instantly got Taron tense. And you’re not fucking anyone else.
Colin didn’t seem displeased and only moved closer, circling Taron’s arm with his hands. “Well, in that case I’ll just have to satisfy all my social needs with you. You think you can keep up?”
Taron shook his head, but smiled with relief. When had he become so soft? The boy was doing something to him that he never expected to feel. He’d been perfectly happy falling asleep with a cat on his feet, and now he was considering moving his bed to the bunker. They could sleep together then, and if they got in the mood in the morning, falling into sex would be so easy.
Colin made a little jump and put his arms around Taron. His face radiated happiness that Taron hadn’t seen on his handsome face before. “Yes! I’d love to keep up with the gardening work. And I’ll gladly keep up with you, too,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.
The flood of emotion was choking Taron and he couldn’t bear to push Colin away, no matter how much he’d meant for this thing between them to stay strictly transactional. He’d kept a dam on his feelings for so long he’d forgotten they were there, just waiting for a crack in the concrete. Why the hell was he doing this to himself? There was no way Colin could ever grow fond of him.
Colin was silent for a while, but then his fingers danced across Taron’s chest, making his heart reach a furious pace that Colin could surely have sensed. “Why didn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked in the end.
Taron licked his lips, embarrassed by the truth, but something else became much more pressing.
Someone was driving toward the house.
Chapter Eleven
There was someone coming.
Just a few heartbeats ago, Colin and Taron had been negotiating the nature of their relationship, but the sudden invasion of their bubble offered Colin a variety of new, unexpected choices. Before he’d heard the approaching car, there had been a plan in his head, but now he was no longer certain of it. He didn’t know what to do.
The decision was made for him—the story of his life.
Taron opened the door to the chicken coop and pushed Colin inside, spooking two birds sleeping on perches close to a couple nesting boxes. The straw dug into Colin’s bare feet, and when the scent of wood and excrement filled his nose, he spun around, eager to go back outside. Taron stopped him with a hand pressed to Colin’s chest and frowned. He whispered instead of signing, as if he were desperate for Colin to understand him without fail.
“You c-come out, all you gonna get is a cellmate, understood?”
“I know you’re here, Hauff! Come out and show your fucking face!” someone yelled from the other side of the house in a thick local accent.
“Who is that?” Colin whispered back, shocked by the angry tone in the stranger’s voice, but Taron was already running, and the door of the coop shut halfway on its own, leaving a gap that allowed Colin to peek outside. His bare skin covered in gooseflesh, but he didn’t retreat deeper into the small shed and stayed close to the door, listening in.
The man’s voice was smothered in anger, so he couldn’t have been a friend of Taron’s. If he found out Colin was a prisoner here, would he choose to help? And if so, was he even capable of withstanding the power of Taron’s muscles? Colin watched them move rigidly on Taron’s back when the stranger came into view.
Colin’s heart stopped beating, and he had to bite his tongue not to scream. It was the dead guy, Peter McGraw, only his skull was intact, and he came at Taron as if he had nothing to fear from him. What the fuck was going on? Colin had seen his head split open, he’d seen the blood and smelled the fear on him, so how could he possibly be alive?