Coming Together: With Pride (24 page)

A jerk on his arm pulled him up short. Raven croaked in his ear. "Hey look, it's old man Parker's truck. He always leaves the keys in it." Raven pushed away and bounced across the street heading toward the battered, green pickup. "Especially when he's drinking."

For about two seconds, he'd thought he was about to get laid. Apparently, Marten had misread something in Raven. He scurried after the wings of a black coat. "You're not going to steal it?"

"Fuck, no." Raven paused at the side of the truck, waiting for Marten to catch up. Popping the door, he explained, "Just mess with the old guys head." Raven slid into the cab. "No one's around. No one's gonna see if you hurry up and get in."

Quick glances up and down the street told Marten that Raven was right. He darted around to the passenger side and crawled in. "What the fuck are you planning?"

Flipping down the cracked sun visor, Raven caught the keys as they fell.
Fun! It'll be cool.
Quickly, he started the truck and jammed it into gear. Marten barely had time to slam the passenger side door closed before Raven reversed it across the road and down an empty side street. He grinned across the cab at Marten. "Let's go watch. The old man should be coming out any minute."

"How do you know?"

"Time for him to drive across town." Raven hopped from the cab. "Mail should be in by now. It's the second Friday of the month." Nonchalantly, he strutted to the corner and leaned against the edge of the building.

"Oh, pension day." Marten drew alongside.

Slowly, Raven's hand fluttered across Marten's ass. "Yep." The dark man smirked.

Then he tugged and shuffled them both so that Marten's dick pressed into his thigh. If Raven hadn't been already teasing, Marten would have died. He was as hard and horny as a teenager. By the way Raven settled his weight against Marten's body; he wanted it just as much. Little twists and shifts kept them rubbing together. It felt damned good.

Across the way, hulked a concrete bunker of a booze-joint. Once bright paint long since faded to the color of mud, only one narrow window and a wooden door broke the flat expanse of the building. The Happy Time bar looked like anything but a happy time.

Using Raven's long coat to shield his movement, Marten reached into Raven's pocket. He slid his fabric-wrapped hand across a sharp hip until he cupped Raven's cock.

"You know we can't do much of anything here, right?" Raven rubbed against Marten's hand.

Long, slender, and hard, Raven's prick throbbed even through the layers of denim and canvas.
Damn, feels good.
If anyone caught them, Marten would have a time trying to weasel out an explanation. "I know," he hissed into Raven's ear, "but it feels too good not to." From across the street it might look, Marten hoped, like they were just talking… really friendly-like.

Marten tracked the line of Raven's cock. Raven bumped back against him, and Marten bit back a groan.

All too soon, an old man staggered out of the bar. His jacket, sans two buttons, was fastened tightly against the wind. He stopped. He turned back to the bar and then turned around again. Lurching toward the curb, the old man stared down at the vacant spot of pavement where his truck should have been. Old Man Parker took off his battered baseball cap and scratched his head. A slow once over of the street offered him nothing but the view of two men leaning against a building. Hoping Raven did the same, Marten pretended he wasn't watching.

The man walked back to the bar. He paused then spun. Maybe he thought that his truck played peek-a-boo. Marten swallowed his snickers. It might have been a little cruel, but no one was getting hurt by the prank. With a final glare at the street, Old Man Parker stomped back in the building.

"That was funny." Marten grabbed Raven's collar and tugged him back toward the truck. "Come on hurry, we only have a minute or so."

"What are
you
doing?"

This time Marten clambered into the driver's side. Barely waiting until Raven had jumped through the passenger door, he twisted the key in the ignition, fought the gear lever and drove the car back to its original spot. "Having a little more fun." He grinned.

"That's wicked sick."

Marten killed the engine and jumped out of the cab. "As long as no one gets hurt," he bounced the keys in hand, "it's good fun, right?" With a quick flick of his wrist, Marten flung the keys under the passenger side of the bench. "And with the way that old man was staggering, let's make sure no one gets hurt." He shoved his hands in his pockets and ducked between buildings, quickly heading for the woods.

"Yeah, his pension check'll keep 'til tomorrow." Raven chuckled as he followed. "He don't need to be driving right now."

The trees closed quietly around them. A few yards off the main drag, the rest of the world faded into fantasy. Slowly, even the sky disappeared behind a laced web of branches overhead. The trees sighed hellos in the shush of the leaves. Teasing his hair like a grandfather's hand, the wind welcomed him back. Damp loam obligingly hid their steps from all but the most perceptive ears. Marten loved the smell of the forest, the richness of it, the wildness of it. He breathed it deeply.

As they walked, Marten tried to sneak glances at Raven, but Raven seemed to catch him every time. The laughter in those bright black eyes stung a bit. Every few moments, a
There yet?
teased him. But Marten was shy, always had been. It wasn't his nature just to hit things straight on unless there was no other way.

Now that they'd wandered in the woods alone, Marten figured he could be a little less wary. He looked up and smiled at the other man. "You coming back to my place then?" It wasn't really a question. Not as brash as Raven's, but he didn't have to skulk around as much.

Raven grinned back, "I don't think I'm headed to see the three bears."

They hit the stony outcrop of a draw. Below, the soft babble of a creek added its murmurs to the whispers of the trees. "Just beyond the stream. Once we cross it, we'll be close." Marten slithered down the boulders, bounding from rock to rock and wriggling through tighter spots. When he looked back, Raven still perched at the lip. "Aren't you coming?" he called.

Raven stared at him. He took a few steps to one side and then the other. With a croak of a laugh, Raven ran and leapt. High into the air, his black coat spread out from his body in a broad wedge. For a moment, his shadow blocked the sky. Raven landed in a wet thud of boots to earth and the snapping of his coat as it flapped about his legs. A few hops carried him forward before he caught his balance.

Huffing, Marten slunk past. "That was a stupid thing to do."

"You go down the hill your way." Raven's hands landed on Marten's shoulders and pulled him back. Mouth nearly on Marten's ear, he added, "I'll go down mine."

For the second time that day, Marten found himself pressed against Raven's lean body. He was so close. The wind drifted fringes of Raven's hair to tickle Marten's neck, and his breathing slowed. He drew in the scent of Raven—heady and feral. Somewhere between earth and sky, rainy winds mixed wet leaves slumbering on the forest floor.

"Mmm." Raven's sharp cheek slid across the back of Marten's skull. "You smell good. Real warm."

It was too chilly to get into much right there, at least for Marten's taste. If he were desperate, he might consider risking frozen nuts. With the house not far away, Marten figured he could wait a few minutes more. He pulled away. "Not much farther." He grinned over his shoulder. Raven's face wore frustration and want. "Come on." Teasing, Marten added, "I've got food at home."

"I don't think I want to eat any more." Raven's voice told Marten he wanted other things much more. Likely they were the same things Marten wanted.

Marten hopped from the bank of the creek and landed on one of the large, slick boulders, poised. Neither on water or land, but part of both, the stream's chatter swept off the worries, the pretenses of Avie and the town. Quickly, Marten bounded to the next and then turned. As though something caught his attention, Marten stared at the water. "What's in the stream?"

"I don't know." Raven glared from the bank. "What do you see?"

Marten pointed to a random spot between the first stepping stone and the one on which he stood. "Can you see it there? It looks shiny, like a ring or something."

"Show me." Raven hopped onto the first slick stone. He wobbled slightly and stuck his hands out for balance.

"See," Marten insisted, "right there."

"I don't see."

"Maybe if you leaned a little farther?"

Raven craned his head forward and cocked it to the side. "Where?" All his attention centered on the stony bottom of the creek.

"Right." Marten lunged, jumping onto the stone next to Raven and hitting Raven's ass with his thigh. "There!"

Raven twisted, tried to catch himself. Legs tangled in his coat, weight already unbalanced from leaning forward, Raven fell with a splash into the stream. Choking with rage, Raven flailed. "I'm fucking drowning! I can't swim."

Calmly, Marten bounded to the next boulder and then to far bank. He turned. "Put your feet down." He barked the order to be heard over Raven's splashing. "It ain't that deep."

When he stopped struggling Raven sank. Marten counted off the seconds until Raven broke the surface. Water came up to his thigh as he stood in the churning flow. "That was a mean trick."

"Serves you right."

"For what?" Raven grumbled as he waded through the water.

Marten held out his hand. "For making me miss a day of work. Screwing around is for after you've put enough by to last."

"Shit." Raven glared for a moment before taking it. Both grunted as Marten helped haul him up the bank.
Bastard.
Grabbing his coat tails, Raven snapped them out with a crack of wet fabric. He huffed and added, "You work too hard."

"I work only as hard as I need to so I can get by." Marten reached out and flicked Raven's wet bangs off the pale forehead. "I can fuck off just as good as any one else once I know that my stomach is fed and I'll have a warm place to sleep."

"Speaking of warm," Raven shivered, "it's fucking cold now that I'm wet."

"Your teeth are chattering." Marten grabbed Raven's shoulder. He turned them both, using the pressure to steer Raven along a narrow foot path. "Come on. My place is close. We'll dry you off there."

"Feeling bad because you pushed me?" Raven's voice was sour.

"No, that was funny, and you deserved it." With a snort, Marten leered in mock triumph. Then he sobered a bit. "I would feel bad if you actually got sick, though"

Just ahead, a small narrow house, half buried into the hill behind it, waited. With little ceremony, Marten led Raven inside. He wriggled through the entry and into a living area. Warm, dry and crammed with odd bits of overstuffed furniture, the house rambled around various interconnected rooms. Marten liked the cozy confines of his place.

"Wow." Raven's voice broke the stillness. "I've been over here a million times, and I don't think I've ever seen your place."

Marten chuckled. "You have to come across the stream just right or you won't be able to see it." Moving from that space into a dining room, Marten shucked his jacket. "Give me your clothes." Then he reached over and tugged Raven's coat off his shoulders.

"All of them?" Raven protested but didn't fight.

"Yeah, unless you want your nuts to shrivel in a cold, wet pair of shorts," Marten teased. The room after that was the kitchen. Marten made his way even farther back into the pantry. Popping the door on a small under counter dryer, Marten smiled at Raven. "Come on, toss 'em in." Then Marten stepped into the bedroom off the pantry and grabbed a thick, tan blanket.

Listening to the suck of wet clothes coming off Raven's body warmed Marten more than any blanket.
I know you want it.
Shit, did he ever!