Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

Sam awoke suddenly, his body tensing. Then he relaxed, going limp. Someone’s arms were around him. Someone’s warm body was pressed against his from behind. The air was close and warm, the bed beneath him hard as a rock.

Suddenly, everything came back in a rush. He was lying in a tent on a deserted island. He could feel Donovan’s chest against his back, his heart thumping in a slow, even rhythm. Why the heck was Donovan holding him? Not that he minded. It felt great, actually, but also confusing. His cock hardened as he pressed gently back against the other man, even though his mind told him to slow down.

He shifted on their makeshift pallet, and Donovan fell away from him onto his back. The moon was high in the sky outside the tent, its light silvering the space. Sam lifted onto his elbow to see if Donovan was awake. His eyes remained closed, his lips slightly parted.

With a small sigh, Sam lay down again and closed his eyes.

 

When he woke again, golden-pink light was leaking in through the tent flap. Donovan was still lying on his back, his T-shirt scrunched to reveal his flat belly above his jeans. Unable to help himself, Sam fantasized leaning over Donovan’s body to glide his tongue along the dark line of hair disappearing into his jeans. Before his imagination got the better of him, he slipped out of the tent and stood in bare feet in the cool, powdery sand. Every muscle in his body ached and the skin on his nose and cheeks felt tender and tight. He lifted his face to the sky, took in a deep breath of fresh salty air, and realized he was desperately glad to be alive.

He walked down to the water’s edge. As he stared out at the vast endless stretch of salt water, he swallowed, his mouth sour and dry. Hopefully Donovan was right about those trade winds creating the right environment for a fresh water source. They would need to find it as soon as possible.

There was no sound from the tent. Sam retrieved his sneakers from where he’d left them beneath a tree. He pulled them onto his bare feet and tied the laces. Deciding to let Donovan sleep a little longer, he took the water jug and made his way through the brush and tall grasses, going farther inland than he had the night before.

As he came upon some large black rocks, he cocked his head, listening carefully. Behind a symphony of birdcalls, could it be? Yes! The sound of running water.

Hurrying toward the sound, he began to scramble upward over the volcanic rock. Please, oh please, oh please, let it be fresh, let it be fresh! As he came to the top of the rock, he saw a ring of palm trees, hung heavy with coconuts. They stood like sentinels around a small pool. Over more rocks on the far side there was a sparkling, splashing waterfall. It appeared to be fed from a stream trickling down the side of the highest elevation on the small island—not precisely a mountain but taller than a mere hill.

Sam approached slowly, still managing to startle a large white heron sunning itself on a nearby rock. With awkward grace it rose from its perch and flapped away. The bird already forgotten, Sam knelt by the water. It smelled fresh, no hint of salt. Sam dunked his head in, shaking his hair like a puppy as he came up. Cupping his hands, he brought the water to his cracked lips and drank deeply. He had never tasted anything so pure or perfect. Dumping the tepid water from the jug, Sam refilled it with the fresh cool water and screwed the cap closed.

He walked farther into the water—it didn’t seem to be much more than five feet deep at its center. The bottom was a mixture of sand and pebbles. He felt little fish grazing his legs and leaned down, trying unsuccessfully to catch one with his hands.

So far they’d found fresh water, clams, mussels, fish, coconuts and seaweed, all of which would sustain them. His burnt skin and aching muscles forgotten, Sam plunged into the water with his salt-laden clothing still on, swimming with the energy of joy and relief.

~*~

Donovan awoke, aware his mouth was hanging open, his shirt drenched with sweat. He sat up stiffly, the remnants of a bad dream still lingering. As he eased himself out of the tent, he looked around for Sam. He was nowhere in sight.

It was weird, they’d spent an entire day together but Donovan knew next to nothing about the guy. Maybe when survival was first and foremost in your mind, you forgot about mundane things like how old someone was or what they did for a living.

He figured they were about the same age, but there was something about Sam that demanded a kind of quiet respect. He was almost deferential in his behavior, but it was the deference of someone who was supremely confident in himself—aware he could get things done with a whisper instead of a shout.

Still thinking about Sam, Donovan walked down to the water. Shading his eyes, he scanned the horizon for boats and the sky for planes, to no avail. With a sigh, he turned back around and headed toward the thicket of bushes past the palm trees, again looking around for Sam.

A sudden disquiet fell over him. What if something had happened to him? “Sam,” he called out, moving deeper into the foliage, his ears pricked. “Sam,” he called again. He heard the bubbling sound of the waterfall before he saw it. Clamoring up the black rocks, he came into view of the small pool and saw Sam’s blond head bobbing in the water. Relief washed over him as he let out breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Sam saw him at the same time and waved. “Donovan! It’s fresh! Fresh water!”

Donovan hurried closer and slipped off his sandals. He grinned widely as he waded into the cool, refreshing water, still in his salt-streaked, grubby clothing. Sam had removed his shirt, and his broad shoulders glistened under the morning sun as he stood in the pool. The water came just to his waist. Donovan couldn’t help but admire Sam’s strong physique, the muscles etched beneath supple skin, rippling as he moved. The pool was crystal clear, revealing the rest of Sam’s body, wavering in the refracted light of the water. Holy shit. The guy was naked.

“Dunk your head,” Sam cried with a laugh, apparently unaware of Donovan’s discomfiture. “It’s fantastic!”

Donovan bent his knees to lower himself completely into the shallow water. Holding his breath, he submerged his head. The sensation was pure heaven. After a moment, he popped up for air and waded over to the bank of the pool, eager to get out of his filthy clothes.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head and managed to get his jeans and underwear off while remaining in the water. He dropped the sodden clothing next to Sam’s pile. The cool water felt wonderful sluicing over his aching body.

They swam in circles near one another. Sam dove beneath the water and rose again like some kind of blond sea god, his back muscles bunching and lengthening as he glided through the water. He burst upward and splashed Donovan, who leaped back in surprise. Laughing, Sam took off, swimming in powerful strokes.

“Hey!” Donovan sputtered as he dove after Sam. When he caught up to him, Donovan reached out and grabbed Sam’s leg, pulling him under. Like boys, they splashed and played, swimming around each other and diving beneath the water only to burst forth with a splash, shaking water into each other’s faces. Donovan was exhilarated—filled with the sheer joy of being alive.

Eventually they tired and stopped their romping. A more serious mood seemed to overtake them both at once. They were quiet as they caught their breath. Donovan was only a little taller than Sam, and they stood face to face, chest to chest. Sam reached out and put his hands on Donovan’s shoulders, his expression difficult to read.

Then he pulled Donovan toward him. As if in a dream, Donovan allowed him to do it, until their naked bodies touched. He could feel the press of Sam’s hard cock against his thigh. Confused, Donovan felt his own cock rising in response. His heart was pounding, his breath catching in his throat. Sam leaned forward, and the dream was suddenly dispelled.

What the hell?

Shocked at both Sam and himself, Donovan jerked back abruptly, his gesture rougher than he intended as he pushed against Sam’s chest, sending him tumbling back into the water.

Sam righted himself, shaking back his wet hair from his face. He said nothing, but only looked at Donovan, who suddenly had the uncanny feeling that he was somehow looking past Donovan’s face and into his secret thoughts.

Disconcerted, Donovan turned sharply away. He swam back toward the bank and his clothing, eager to cover his body along with his confusion.

Sam swam after him, stepping out of the water a moment after Donovan. Donovan could hear him pulling on his clothing as Donovan did the same. His wet jeans felt stiff and uncomfortable, but Donovan didn’t want to be naked a moment longer in front of Sam.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Sam said to Donovan’s back. “I didn’t mean to… It just happened.”

Donovan stood still, not sure how to respond.

Sam’s voice was gentle, still apologetic. “I think we got our wires crossed a little. The relief of finding fresh water, the pleasure of washing away the salt and grime, the easing of tension for the first time since the explosion on the ship… It lowered defenses we would normally keep raised.”

Donovan turned slowly around to face Sam. He had sat down on the bank. His hair hung in wet waves down his neck. “The last thing I want is to compromise you in any way. I apologize if I’ve upset or offended you.”

Donovan nodded abruptly and quickly turned away. He was aware he was letting Sam take the weight, but felt unable to respond with more than a grunt. Finally, he managed, “It’s okay. It’s like you said. Our wires got crossed.”

 

They each ate an energy bar and drank from the fresh jug, neither saying much. Donovan kept glancing at Sam, trying to read his feelings in his expression, but Sam’s face was carefully neutral. Donovan tried to assume the same seeming indifference.

Later that morning, they moved out onto the white sands of the narrow shoreline. Sam raised the signal mirror. Holding it up toward the sky, he positioned the card until he captured a glint of sunlight. He moved his arm in a wide sweeping arc. He had pulled off his shirt, and his tan chest glistened with a light sweat. Slowly he repeated the process, again and again.

Donovan sat nearby, his mind still grappling with what had happened by the waterfall. He had already begun to suspect Sam was gay. That wasn’t what bothered him. It wasn’t Sam’s erection against his leg that had startled him as much as his own response. Was it only because of the situation, as Sam had said? The relief at being alive, at finding fresh water, at not being alone… Was that all it had been?

Was that all Donovan wanted it to be?

Donovan watched Sam as he patiently swept the sky with the little mirror. His body was lean and strong, not an ounce of fat on his frame. There was no denying it—Sam was a good-looking guy, whether you were straight or gay or somewhere in between.

Eventually Sam tired. He offered the signal mirror to Donovan, who stood and took it from him. Copying Sam’s movements, he swept the sky with the rectangle of glass and plastic. Armed with the jug of water, Sam sat farther back under the shade of a coconut tree. If they’d been expecting a plane to suddenly fly into view and touch down to speed them to safety, they were disappointed. Donovan was forced to acknowledge he’d harbored just such a ridiculous expectation.

Finally, he sank down near Sam with a sigh. He pulled off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and accepted the jug of water. “Well, that was a bust,” he said dispiritedly.

“Not necessarily,” Sam replied. “The directions said the signal could be reaching someone a hundred miles away. For all we know, they’re on their way right now. We have to have hope.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Donovan agreed, slightly buoyed by that. “How about we’ll do this after every meal. Three times a day we’ll send out our signal. The rest of the time, we should probably focus on collecting food and preparing ourselves in the event of a longer stay. If nothing else, it’ll keep our minds occupied.”

“Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Sam got to his feet and walked a distance away to pee. Donovan watched his back, unable to get the feeling of Sam’s naked body pressed against his own out of his mind. He touched his own thigh, recalling Sam’s hard cock pressed there.

Sam hadn’t brought up the incident. He seemed almost to have forgotten it. How was he so calm and cool about everything? Why couldn’t Donovan find that same kind of equilibrium?

Maybe he had Sam figured wrong. Maybe he wasn’t actually gay. Maybe whatever had happened at the pool had just been a pure mistake—an unintended result of their horseplay. But he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it unless he addressed it head on. As Sam returned to sit beside him, Donovan blurted, “Are you gay?”

Sam didn’t look directly at Donovan. Instead, he stared out at the ocean, his lips curving slowly into a small smile. “I’m pretty happy, if that’s what you mean. Glad to be alive.”

Donovan grunted with annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

Sam chuckled and turned toward Donovan. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve never really liked to define myself by my sexual orientation. I don’t really know what it means. But I understand what you’re asking. You’re asking, do I like men? Do I find men sexually appealing?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking,” Donovan said, aware it was none of his business yet unable to help himself.

Sam eyed him for a moment and then shrugged. “Well, the short answer is yes. You want the long answer too?” He smiled, his teeth white against his sunburned face, his eyes gentle as they met Donovan’s.

Donovan swallowed, not sure how much he actually wanted to know, though he was the one who had posed the question. Curiosity won out over trepidation and slowly he nodded.

Sam looked back out to sea as Donovan studied his profile, the nose slightly crooked, the high cheekbones, his hair blowing gently in the sea breeze. “I guess I like people. I’m attracted to men, but also to women. I appreciate the curve of a breast, the feminine gasp of pleasure at the moment of orgasm, the sweet heat of enveloping warmth around my cock.”

Donovan’s face heated at Sam’s poetic but graphic description.

“But my connection,” Sam continued, “my emotional, even my spiritual connection—seems to be with men. Not that I don’t love them physically, as well.” He smiled again, his eyes sweeping over Donovan’s bare torso.

Under his gaze, Donovan felt a confusion of feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with.

“I love the strength of men,” Sam went on in the same calm voice. “I love the hard muscle, the scruff of their beard, the tenderness beneath the swagger of some guys. I connect with men in a way I never have with a woman.” Sam looked at Donovan head-on, as if daring him in some way.

Donovan was startled to realize his cock had hardened during Sam’s description. What the hell was wrong with him? “Yeah, okay,” he said gruffly, getting to his feet. “You don’t need to go into any more detail.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you were really asking.”

Donovan turned away, his face hot, his heart racing as he tried to ignore the erection in his pants. “I’m gonna go take a tour of the island,” he mumbled. “Later.”