Jamie woke up in the dead of night. It took him a second to recognize where he was. He didn’t make a habit of waking up on the ground, with a building groaning around him like the structure itself was about to collapse.

A flicker of lightning from outside, striking only a short distance away, reassured him that the place was still standing. Morgan was wrapped around him like some kind of bizarre cross between an octopus and a heating pad, but he wasn’t asleep. Jamie could feel his stuttering breath behind him.

Morgan. He’d loved going down on Morgan last night, taking him into his mouth and watching his face while he came. It was something he could get used to.

He’d meant what he’d said. He understood that Morgan was a proud guy. Jamie got pride, probably as well as any man alive. He got not wanting to ask for help. He got not wanting to be seen as weak by someone he’d been told for decades was the enemy.

So, he wouldn’t give him an option. There was no damn reason Morgan had to freaking squat in an abandoned building. If nothing else, Morgan’s familiarity with his father and the Roman Patrick Companies’ operation would be a perfect entry to Roscoe Industries.

He’d be the perfect asset, really. He’d always been good at sales, something Jamie lacked, and Jamie knew from experience he was a competitive guy.

Morgan was hard, and he wasn’t asleep. Jamie considered telling Morgan to get the sleep he needed, but he decided on a different option instead. He took Morgan’s work-rough hand and moved it down, toward his crotch, instead. He heard Morgan’s quiet laugh as Morgan figured out what was going on.

“I take it you’re awake,” Morgan murmured, as Jamie rolled over.

“With you here? Hell, yeah.” He kissed Morgan, deeply and thoroughly. It might be pitch dark in here, but he could feel Morgan’s grin under his lips.

Morgan unzipped the sleeping bag and opened it up. Jamie grinned. This would be a lot more fun if they had some freedom of movement. “I’ve got to make up for lost time somehow.”

He fumbled in the dark for the little canvas messenger bag he’d brought with him. It didn’t contain any paperwork, even though he’d ostensibly been here to show the place. He’d only brought lube.

Sure, last time they’d made do, but he liked to come prepared. He set it on the ground beside the sleeping bag and rolled them over, so he could slot himself between Morgan’s strong legs.

Their cocks rubbed together, and even through their pants, it sent a jolt of electricity right through Jamie. He groaned, the sound muffled in Morgan’s generous mouth. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, helping Morgan off with his shirt.

Morgan chuckled and pulled back for a second. He unbuttoned Jamie’s shirt. Jamie tensed up, but he didn’t resist, and Morgan stopped with just opening it. “It’s dark, doofus,” he said. “You can’t even see me.”

“I’ve seen you before,” Jamie told him, and kissed his neck. “I know what you look like. And I can feel you. I like how you feel, you know.”

He dragged his lips down to Morgan’s collarbone and grazed his teeth along the edge. “You have no idea how this feels, do you? Having you right here under me, getting to touch your skin, hear your voice.”

Jamie couldn’t see anything at all, except for when the occasional bolt of lightning illuminated the room. It was a lot like being blindfolded. He didn’t mind it.

As beautiful as Morgan looked in the throes of an orgasm, Jamie wanted to explore his other senses, too. He could hear whether or not Morgan liked what he was doing when he licked at his nipples. He could taste those same nipples hardening under his tongue, and he could feel Morgan’s skin getting even hotter.

Morgan wasn’t content to just lie there, either. He ran his hands along Jamie’s bare skin, leaving a trail of heat. He didn’t let his hands stray behind the limits of the shirt. He didn’t move them to Jamie’s ruined back. He teased Jamie’s nipples until Jamie was ready to scream, and he followed the little trail of hair from his chest down to his waistband with his tongue.

Jamie hadn’t been able to have this since the fire. He’d only been able to have any kind of intimacy with his clothes on, the way they had their first time together. The way Morgan was touching him, almost worshipping him like he was beautiful, almost made Jamie come from happiness alone. He’d felt so alone, so isolated, but Morgan knew, and he still wanted to touch him.

Jamie discarded both of their pants and slicked his fingers up. He wasn’t going to hurt his beautiful Morgan. Last time they’d both enjoyed it, but he’d been careless. This time, he was going to do it right.

He stretched Morgan open carefully, slowly, teasing him so sweetly Morgan was begging by the time he was ready. “Come on, Jamie, just get in me already!”

Jamie was happy to oblige. Morgan wrapped his legs around Jamie’s waist and Jamie slid into him, reveling in the way Morgan’s body felt against his bare cock. It did occur to him that he probably should have grabbed a condom, but by that point it was too late. He’d already bottomed out. They hadn’t had one last time, so the horse had already left the barn, but they should probably be better about contraception.

And then Morgan’s body adjusted, and he told Jamie to move. Jamie forgot all about responsibility and caution, at least for the moment.

He set a slow, steady pace for them tonight. He wanted Morgan to understand just how valued he was. He could use words, but he’d never been great with emotional discussions, and he didn’t think Morgan was either. Jamie would let his body do the talking, with deep, slow thrusts that hit their mark every time.

The friction, and the slide, were as much as Jamie could stand. Morgan’s cries of ecstasy were the finest symphony, or maybe the dirtiest rock band to ever play in public. Morgan came quickly, and Jamie congratulated himself on a job well done. Then Morgan’s body clenched around his cock, over and over, and that was it for him.

He let himself go. They would have plenty of time for marathon sessions, if they wanted to. The combination of the darkness, and his joy at this rediscovered intimacy, was too much.

Morgan dozed off after he and Jamie finished. Was it foolish to call something love after such a short time? Probably.

It wasn’t like Jamie was a stranger. He’d known Jamie, at least peripherally, most of his life. And he’d always been drawn to the man, like a moth to flame.

So, maybe, letting his thoughts progress from attraction to love wasn’t the most unnatural thing in the world. And maybe he shouldn’t worry so much about when the “right” time was to call something love when he had a guy calling himself Captain Ice coming for his head.

He hadn’t dreamed much since losing his home and the life he’d known. When he had, his dreams hadn’t been good. Tonight, he dreamed for the first time about a future. He dreamed about working again, in an office. He dreamed about showering in a proper bathroom, with running water, and eating a hot meal.

Across from Jamie, who smiled at him while they shared a breakfast.

Even in his dreams, he had to be a little bit embarrassed. Jamie could say all he wanted about helping him. He probably even meant it.

But Jamie didn’t run Roscoe Industries. The rest of the Roscoes would never tolerate a Patrick in their midst, not after everything Roman had done.

And everything Morgan had helped him do.

He could still enjoy his dream world, though, even if it was all an illusion. Maybe things would start to look up for him soon. Who knew, maybe he’d find a way out of things with Collins yet.

Morgan woke up needing to use the bathroom. The storm was still going in full force, shaking the walls badly enough to make them groan. He’d be a fool to go out and try to get to the outhouse in this. With his luck, it would probably crash on him.

He could probably make it to the back door, though. He inched his way through the empty house until he reached it. Even that felt unsafe, and he rushed through his business as quickly as he could. God, he hoped this storm ran itself out quickly. He didn’t know how much more of it he could take.

A clap of thunder shook the house, and Morgan raced back inside. He’d lifted some hand sanitizer from the hospital when he was last there, so he found that when he went back inside and made liberal use of it.

Then he headed back into the main room. He’d hoped to warm himself back up by getting back into Jamie’s arms, but Jamie was nowhere to be found.

Panic and dread washed over Morgan for a moment. His first thought was that Jamie had taken off, but his shoes and messenger bag were still there. Jamie also wasn’t foolish enough to run off during a storm like this.

Had Collins’ men come after Morgan, with the storm to cover their tracks? Morgan hadn’t thought Collins would risk it, but maybe he wouldn’t put it past them. Shit.

He’d asked to have Jamie meet him here. What if his lust and self-interest had gotten poor Jamie killed? Morgan wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

He wouldn’t have to. Either Collins’ minions would get him, or the Roscoes would. Thank heaven for small favors.

Just as his stomach started to bubble over with anxiety, he noticed the front door was open. How had he missed that? He slipped into his pants and crept out onto the porch, cringing at the sound of wood rebelling against wind. If the storm didn’t let up soon, something was going to give.

He shielded his eyes from the battering rain. The porch wasn’t much help, thanks to the rain, and Jamie wasn’t on the porch anyway. He stood under the lone tree a few feet away, holding the phone up in the air and exposing it to the elements. His open shirt flapped in the wind.

Jesus Christ. Morgan was torn between laughter and rage. He’d been afraid, but this idiot was just standing out here trying to get himself killed. “Jamie!” he shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jamie must have heard him. It was a miracle, because between the wind and the rain and the thunder and the fact that Jamie had clearly dropped his brains somewhere between where they’d lain down and the door, Morgan could barely hear himself.

“My family will be freaking out!” Jamie yelled back. His hair was plastered to his head. “They don’t know I’m up here. I’m trying to call and let someone know where I am.” A roll of thunder shook the very ground beneath them, and they both ducked.

Morgan shook his head. A fork of lightning sent the world into a brief second of daylight. “You’re an idiot,” Morgan told him. “A flaming, flying moron! There’s no service.”

“Have to keep trying!” Jamie screamed. “Can’t have them out on the streets looking for me!”

And sure, it was great for Jamie to be that guy, the one who thought about other people’s safety. It would be even more awesome for him to be the one who thought about his own safety. “You’re going to run out of battery before you get a signal!” Morgan hollered. “The tower’s probably out!”

Jamie and Morgan both turned in the direction of the nearest cell tower. No lights warned incoming planes of its presence.

“Get inside,” Morgan directed. Jamie must have found what remained of his intelligence, because he bowed his head and trudged against the wind to come back toward the house.

More wood groaned, just before another flash of lightning hit with a massive boom of thunder. This time the reek of ozone and burning wood came with it. Morgan saw it like it was happening in slow motion. Lightning struck the tree, knocking a heavy branch off. The end that had been hit ignited, and the flaming branch sped toward the ground.

Jamie, oblivious, walked right beneath it.

Morgan had to act. He ran forward and grabbed Jamie. He used his momentum to fling them both to the side. There wasn’t time to be more graceful about it, and Jamie outweighed him by now.

Grace wasn’t necessary, not when there was no one to see. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the branch, still flaming, landed a scant few inches from their heads. Thank God everything was too sodden to ignite, or else the branch would have started a wildfire.

He stared at it, panting, as the flames turned to steam and died. “That,” he gasped, “was too close.” He gulped and let himself flop back into the mud. He’d mop himself off later, before he got into any cars. Jamie obviously didn’t care, since he was still flat on his back too.

The icy rain still pounded down on them both from above. The wind helped it along, making Morgan’s teeth chatter. “Let’s never do that again, okay? It’s totally cool that you wanted to reassure your family and all that, but seriously. Not worth dying for.” He rolled over and stood up. “Let’s go inside before we get hit by even more lightning.”

Jamie didn’t respond.

Morgan turned around and crouched down, offering Jamie his hand. “Are you hurt, buddy?”

Another flash of light revealed that Jamie wasn’t looking at him. Jamie wasn’t looking at anything at all. Jamie’s eyes were shut, long lashes pretty against his pale cheek. His entirely too pale cheek.

Morgan cursed and dropped to his knees beside him. He groped in the mud until he found Jamie’s cell phone. The screen had been smashed in the fall, but he managed to get the flashlight to work. He couldn’t get much out of it, but he could see a trickle of red washing away from underneath Jamie’s head.

“Oh, no,” he moaned, tears stinging his eyes. He slipped his fingers underneath Jamie’s head and found a large rock. Jamie must have hit his head when Morgan had tackled him.

Jamie was unconscious, the storm was worsening, and Morgan had no way to help him.