Thunder rumbled. Skip sat up in bed. His skin crawling with electricity. It was dark, and he didn’t know where he was. Fear prickled down his spine and spread to his limbs as he oriented himself.

He reached out and scraped the nylon walls. “Tent,” he gasped out the word almost in relief. He found his lantern and turned it on. That helped. Thunder rumbled again, echoing off the lake. He could smell the rain that was about to come. He didn’t see lightning, but that didn’t mean anything.

He sat waiting for the worst. The wind whipped around the tent, bringing a strange sound with it. The long, low, keening of something unnatural amped up his unease several hundred notches. Someone shouted in the distance. Thunder crashed almost overhead.  “Chad!”

Chad was still out there.

He’d left the tent open, in case the young man changed his mind. He hadn’t. Skip flung his sleeping bag off and scrambled out of the tent into the wind that whipped around with an alarming force.

The fire was nothing but embers now; the glowing orange guiding him to where the Marine’s bedroll lay, empty. Chad was nowhere to be found.

The keening sound grew louder. It wasn’t the weather. The others poked their heads out of their tents one at a time. Sam and Darren forgot they weren’t supposed to be in the same tent and Sam retreated inside.

“Where did this storm come from?” Darren shouted, not seeming to care that he’d been caught sleeping with a woman who was not his wife.

“Don’t know. It wasn’t in the forecast when we left,” Blake shouted from the next tent over. “What’s the roaring sound?”

“Thunder,” Darren shouted back.

“That’s not thunder,” Skip shouted over the wind and the thunder. He saw the shadow now, down by the water. He lay on the ground, his hands over his head. Screaming.

Chad was screaming in terror.

“Oh, shit. The thunder. He’s triggered.”

“Triggered? What the hell does that mean… he’s triggered?” Sam stuck her head back out; she was wearing Darren’s flannel shirt now.

“He thinks he’s back there and we’re under fire.” Skip was out of the tent and slipping on the loose dirt as he tried to run and stay on his feet at the same time. It was starting to rain, and the kid was out there freaking out. He couldn’t leave him like that.

“He’s not going to kill us all, is he?” Blake was the Nervous Nelly who shouted that. Skip noticed that not a single one of the others dared come out of their tents. He managed to stand up and stay standing up as the next blast of thunder roared across the sky; this time high-level lightning lit up the heavens and showed him the stark fear on the younger man’s face.

“Just get back in your tents. I’ll handle it.” He didn’t add ‘like I always do’, but he thought it. “Watch that lightning, and get out from under the trees.”

Only one tent was near the tree line. The storm looked like it was rolling past them, but he wasn’t sure.

He raced across the clearing, pine needles digging into his bare feet. He hit the beach, and Chad uncurled from his duck and cover pose and held up his arms like he was going to shoot him. He didn’t have a gun. Skip dropped to his knees thanking god for small favors.

“Chad,” he shouted over the wind. “Chad. It’s me. It’s Skip. It’s Skip. Chad. Listen to me. It’s a storm. It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re not there.” He tried to keep his voice calm. He tried to keep it all nice and cool and collected. He needed to get him back into the here and now. “Chad. It’s going to rain. It’s too cold. Honey, it’s just a storm. You’re safe.”

He walked on his knees, his hands in the air for Chad to see that he wasn’t a threat. He saw the whites of the man’s eyes as the next blast rocked the sky. Skip took that opportunity to lunge for him. Chad could have torn him apart. He knew that. He wrapped his arms around the man and held him tight, pinning his arms to his sides. “Chad. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with me. We’re at the lake. It’s thunder, honey, just thunder.”

The kid had always been afraid of thunder. He remembered, as the man trembled in his arms. He was so cold and so scared. “Skip?” he said a couple of very long minutes later. His body sagging in Skip’s arms, dragging him down to the sand, but Skip didn’t let him go.

“Yeah, babe, it’s Skip. I’m here. I’ve got you. We’re good. It’s okay.” The first drop of rain felt like a razor blade on his face. “It’s going to rain now. Let’s go to the tent. It’ll keep us dry.” God, he hoped.

Chad stopped shaking and looked around. His eyes focused now. He nodded. He wouldn’t meet Skip’s gaze after that, but Skip didn’t care. He helped him up and they ran, grabbing Chad’s gear, the rain chasing them inside the only shelter available.

He waved the others back inside their own tents and zipped his tent closed. The wind slamming against it scared him. “In thirty years, this is the first time it’s stormed.”

Chad didn’t say anything. He sat huddled on the floor looking ashamed. “You’re fine. It’s okay.”

Chad fixed him with a look he couldn’t read and went back to staring at the floor.

Skip reached out and gripped his hand, holding it tight. “No shame. Okay. There’s no shame here.” He put his face in front of Chad’s. “Let’s get you warm.”

Chad squeezed his hand; his nostrils flared as he let out a cleansing breath. His gaze flicked nervously around the small tent. “Did you and my dad…” he looked at Skip’s sleeping bag and up to Skip, his eyes carefully blank.

“No, man. We weren’t lovers. He was probably the closest thing I ever had to a brother. Your dad was straight… maybe he was asexual. I’m not sure he really liked sex. Or women. Or men. Or people. He loved his tech. That’s what he lived for. And he loved you.”

Chad let out a long breath, his shoulders slumped as his body finally released the last of the tension that had him on his knees. Skip found his extra blanket and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders. His hands were ice cold when their fingers brushed. “Let’s get your sleeping bag set up. You’re freezing.”

Chad nodded, still unable to meet Skip’s gaze. He pulled his bedroll and shook it out before opening it and laying down. Skip took the blanket he’d abandoned and tucked it around him. Chad reached for his pack and put it under his head to use as a pillow. He didn’t say anything. He shivered and closed his eyes as if Skip wasn’t even there.

“I’m going to turn the lantern down to nightlight strength if that’s okay. I want to be able to keep an eye on the sky, but hell, man, I don’t want to be in the dark. Not overly fond of storms, myself.” Skip sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag and looked through his bag for a pair of socks. His feet were freezing. He found his cap and pulled that on too. “It wasn’t supposed to storm. We wouldn’t have hiked out if we knew this was coming.”

“I know. I checked the weather this morning.” Chad’s voice was thin and raspy when he finally spoke.

“Okay, good. I didn’t want you to think we were idiots or something, who didn’t know how to survive in the woods. Other than the fishing incident that is. We’d all starve if we had to fish for food.” Skip knew he was babbling, but was helpless to stop it. The lightning flashing in the sky had him on edge.

“Other than the fish incident, yeah, sure,” Chad said, there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “All camping gurus. I gotcha.”

“Asshole,” Skip laughed as he turned the lantern down to a bare glimmer. Chad opened his eyes when the light dimmed. He blinked rapidly as if trying to adjust to the near dark. Skip wondered if he was still fighting off whatever he’d seen to send him to the edge of the lake. He knew better than to ask.

“So I’ve been told,” Chad answered weakly. Thunder rumbled again, more distant this time. Chad squeezed his eyes closed; his face looked almost blue in the pale light. “I’m sorry. That’s never happened before. I don’t know… I thought I could handle it.”

“It’s okay, Chad. Lake effect. It was echoing the thunder all around. Sounded like…”

“Artillery fire,” Chad finished. “I went back. I wasn’t expecting to go back.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Skip wasn’t going to push him to talk. He’d let the man deal with it however he needed to deal with it.

“No, Sir,” Chad said, his voice breaking, and he cleared it.

“I’m here if you need to.” Skip turned the lantern off and sat stiffly on his bed to watch the storm roll off into the distance. The wind and rain stayed behind, becoming heavier and louder as the thunder and lightning died away. The tent shook violently a few times, but it was holding.

He jumped when something cold snaked over his hand, and cursed when he realized it was Chad’s fingers. He was still freezing. Skip curled his fingers around Chad’s, and let him hold on. When the wind finally died down and the rain became a soft patter on the roof of the tent, Skip flipped his bag open and lay down, scooting as close to Chad as he dared, hoping the kid didn’t take anything the wrong way. Chad might not have a gun, but Skip knew he had something wicked strapped around his ankle and he sure as fuck didn’t want to wake up with that pressed to his throat.

“You okay?” He heard from the dark.

“I’m good. How about you?” He asked as Chad released a long sigh. Hot breath ghosted over his neck, sending chills all over his body.

“Cold. And tired. I haven’t slept in a long time,” Chad confessed, as if the dark made it okay to share his weaknesses. “Not since Dad died.”

Skip closed his eyes and rolled toward the shivering man. He had no intentions other than comfort. “My mom died of complications from pneumonia when I was seventeen. I was there when she passed. We buried her, and I thought everything was fine. I thought I could deal with it. She was sick. She’d been sick for a long time and wasn’t getting better. It’s not like cancer. You just don’t expect someone to drown in their own fluids or whatever it was that killed her. Some antibiotics and that shit’s handled, right?” Chad squeezed his hand as he inched closer. Skip closed his eyes as the man’s head tucked against his shoulder. “My dad couldn’t deal with it. That day after we buried my mother, he went into the garage and shot himself.”

Chad didn’t say anything. He draped his arm over Skip’s waist and pulled him close. “And you saw it happen, didn’t you?”

Skip nodded. He couldn’t swallow; he dug his fingers into the blanket that covered the man in his arms. He could see it like it was yesterday. His dad standing at the workbench in the back. He didn’t say a word.  He didn’t turn around. He opened the drawer where he kept the gun. “Sometimes I wonder if he’d have done it, if he knew I was behind him. I sometimes wish I hadn’t stayed quiet. I thought he needed the silence. I was sent to tell him to come in to eat. I wasn’t there to see him buried. I packed everything I owned, and took all the money I had, and I left. I don’t know what I did for a couple of weeks. I can’t remember. I remember walking into the tavern, and your dad asked me to sit down and they fed me. I loved him, Chad. He was a good man. But he was such a terrible person too. He lived in his mind, and if you didn’t know how to get his attention, he didn’t know you existed.”

“I know.” Chad shivered against him, but he didn’t shed a tear. “Thank you for telling me about your parents.”

“You’re welcome,” Skip whispered, and for some reason he swiped his lips across the man’s forehead, kissing him softly, as if that could make up for a lifetime of being a shadow in his father’s life.

* * * * *

Fuzzy thoughts went through his mind. Blurry images of flesh on flesh, and heat, like nothing he’d ever experienced. The deep red of the sun burning him, making him sweat and ache at the same time. Ache in places he wasn’t supposed to ache. He wanted to touch himself to make the aching stop. He wanted to touch the flesh that he craved. He could smell sweat and pine and the sun-kissed flesh of another.

He longed to taste the sweat; he longed to have flesh against his. He searched for the sun. Digging past cloth until he found heat, soft and smooth and sweaty, just like him. He nuzzled for sustenance, looking for life. He found hot lips that tasted of lust and he let himself devour that what he craved. Cool air kissed his back as hot fingers sought to pull him into the fire. His flesh screamed for the touch. He whimpered into the mouth of the sun.

He ached, so much. He arched his back, seeking to relieve the ache.  He nearly cried out when he brushed against the wicked lust of another.

He rolled away. Scrambling for safety. The dream riding him hard. His body flashing cold as his vision cleared and the green eyes that haunted his dreams blinked at him, the flame that would consume him, dying as he watched.

“Chad,” he said, his voice a broken whisper. Chad closed his eyes, but he couldn’t block the truth of what he’d done. Skip’s swollen lips and engorged crotch evidence enough that his fever dream hadn’t been just a dream.

“I’m sorry,” Chad whispered, his own body foreign to him. “I’m… sorry.”

He looked around the room. Tent. This was a tent. He still wore his boots. The storm had cleared. It was dark and windy and cold. Cold enough to kill the urge to crawl over the man and take what he craved.

“I have to go… out… for air.” He couldn’t look the man in the eye after forcing himself on him.

He found the zipper tab and opened the tent. He scrambled out into the clearing and the unnatural quiet of the woods at dawn. He didn’t wait for Skip to condemn him. He took off down the beach, dodging driftwood and fish that had washed up during the night. He ran until he couldn’t breathe. His body still wanting…

He fell to his knees and crawled into the tree line, looking for a place to hide to do the deed. To make it stop.

He found a large rock and crawled to it. Pulling himself up, he leaned over the rock and released his swollen flesh. He hadn’t wanted this in so long, he’d thought he’d purged the need. He stroked himself, trying not to cry out at the touch of his own hand. He ached so badly this time. Worse than he’d ever ached. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over the tip, his knees shook from just the slightest touch. He stroked himself, pulling the skin over the head and back, hoping to gather moisture to make it easier and quicker. He held onto the rock and stroked, eyes closed… but he couldn’t stop seeing the green eyes staring back at him, or hearing his name whispered from swollen lips as he devoured.

“Chad?”

He wasn’t dreaming. He woke to the dream. Kissing the man. Rubbing against him like a cat in heat. Begging him for something he wasn’t supposed to want.

“Don’t, okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again.” He leaned against the rock, holding his hand over his swollen shame as if to hide it from the man.

The hand on his shoulder wasn’t gentle. Chad turned to face the anger he knew he’d find. He covered his shame as best he could. Skip looked at him, his eyes filled with… surprise. Not anger. Or hate. He reached out and Chad flinched, turning his head away. Skip grabbed his chin and held him, almost tenderly. “Who hurt you?”

Chad had no answer. He struggled to control his breathing. Skip’s hand on his chin was gentle yet Chad couldn’t look him in the eye yet. He still ached. So very badly. The fingers on his flesh weren’t helping at all. “You’re gay?” God, he flinched again and hated himself for reacting. Skip didn’t allow him to avoid the question this time. He turned his face and Chad opened his eyes.

He was so very close Chad could feel the anger emanating from his body. He looked up, afraid of the condemnation he’d see in Skip’s eyes. He didn’t want to disappoint this man. He blinked and swallowed hard before meeting Skip’s gaze. The green in his eyes burned bright; the flame so intense Chad sat frozen as Skip stole his truths. “You want me?”

The truth shouldn’t sound so unsure of itself. He wanted the flesh of a man. His boyhood crush shouldn’t still haunt him. The man in his dreams shouldn’t make him cringe like a child waiting for the belt for touching himself.

He nodded, because lying always made it worse.

Skip released his chin and sighed. The flame in his eyes faded, the green going a deep emerald. “You’re too young for me,” he said, sorrow in his voice. “Way too young.”

Chad forgot to cover himself. He leaned back on the rock and looked away, the shame returning. He’d tempted a man old enough to be his father. “I’m sorry,” he said again, clutching the sharp edge of the rock with both hands as he waited for the strike that never came.

“Baby,” Skip whispered softly. He lifted Chad’s chin again. This time with one finger and leaned over him. He smiled and licked Chad’s lips before lightly kissing him. Chad moaned and leaned away. Skip followed, licking him gently until Chad’s eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth opened.

The kiss was soft. Skip’s lips barely brushing his. Chad flicked his tongue between his lips, hoping to taste. Skip moaned into his mouth and pulled away. He stared down at Chad as he leaned back, his hands braced beside his hips. His dick sticking out of his fly, the head peeking from behind the foreskin, the moisture he’d been searching for streaming down his engorged shaft, gleaming sticky in the first light.

Skip licked his lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked away, down the beach. He sank to his knees without looking Chad in the eye again. His hands twitched as he reached for Chad, hovering over his thighs. He glanced up, the fire he’d lost returned to his eyes. He held Chad’s gaze and leaned over him, resting his palms on Chad’s thighs. He licked the tip of Chad’s dick, his gaze holding Chad’s, forcing him to watch as he opened his mouth to kiss the tip of his dick. His tongue slipped into the fold to find the rim hidden inside, he flicked his tongue over the slit, pushing inside. Chad couldn’t look away now, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. The heat from Skip’s mouth only rivaled by the heat burning in his eyes. God, he wanted this. He wanted so much more. He wanted to bare his body and touch Skip in the same way. He wanted to know how he tasted, how he would sound when Chad did this to him.

He curled his fingers behind Skip’s neck.  He needed to touch, he needed to be touched. He didn’t know how to ask for any of it. Skip’s eyes smiled, his lips were too busy to do the same. He opened his mouth and dipped his head, taking Chad deep into his mouth. His tongue flicked at the spot beneath the hood, pressing him hard there as he sucked with his mouth. The fire in his eyes growing brighter and more intense as he took him deeper into his mouth, and down his throat. He didn’t gag. He didn’t stop. Skip sucked him with his mouth and owned him with his eyes.

Electricity sparked in his tailbone and shot down his legs to his toes and up his spine to his brain. He curled his other hand around the back of Skip’s head and squeezed. He shoved his dick hard into the man’s throat, pumping into him as if he’d die if he didn’t. Skip never looked away, he took the punishment, sucking harder when Chad needed it. Sucking hard enough to suck the electricity from his toes and his brain. The pain of it leaving his body, and echoing through the dawn.