A month had elapsed since Cole had moved in. To say we were happy was putting it mildly, and in a strange way, Cole's presence had rejuvenated Uncle Bill in the most varied ways, almost as if he adored the family environment we'd made.
Cole and I had talked a lot about our relationship, but there were still things I didn't know about him, and I sensed Cole's reluctance to address topics that might help explain things. I decided to take the bull by the horns and see what happens.
I decided the best way to broach the topics I wanted to discuss was an afternoon ride in the hay fields, and today was warm and the field inviting.
The scent of sun-warmed grass clung to the air as Apollo carried us through the swaying fields, his hooves kicking up tiny clouds of dust as we trotted. Cole's thighs pressed hot against mine, his hands splayed across my stomach as he held me tight. We'd stopped wearing clothes weeks ago when out riding, and today was no exception as Cole's freckles bloomed across his nose.
Cole's fingers held my hips as we lurched over a gopher hole, his startled laugh vibrating through my spine. I'd memorised the exact pitch of that sound, the way it caught in his throat when he was genuinely surprised versus when he was just humouring Bill's terrible jokes.
We dismounted, jumping down from Apollo, who was now content to immediately bury his nose in the tall grass, his upper lip wriggling as he searched for clover. Cole caught my wrist, pulling me into the grass, laying my head on his stomach as we lay naked, chewing bits of grass.
"Cole, can I ask something. You've lived here all your life. How come you never knew what Uncle Bill does for a living?"
Cole plucked a stalk of wild wheat, splitting the stem with his thumbnail as he considered my question. He gave a small shrug that made the sunlight ripple across his shoulders. "I did know, but I’d never noticed what was right in front of me," his grin turning self-deprecating as he rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand, as my head now rested on his midriff, as grass stems poked up between his fingers like green lightning.
"I knew he bred horses, sure. But shires? Those big bastards might as well have been dinosaurs to a kid who only ever saw quarter horses at rodeos and, in fairness, were the other side of the valley."
Apollo's tail swished nearby, sending a dragonfly spiralling over our heads. Cole tracked its flight absently, his voice softening. "Da also told me to stay away, so I did. Nothing to pull me in this direction until you arrived. Besides, the creek was...free to play in and met all my needs, you might say."
"Can I ask you another question?"
Cole bent over towards my head, kissing me gently on my lips. "My, my, you are inquisitive today. Go on, ask away."
Cole's fingers paused mid-stroke along my ribs, his breath hitching just slightly. The dragonfly landed on Apollo's withers, its wings catching the light like stained glass as Cole exhaled through his nose.
"You seem to have gotten all the hand-me-down clothes, including your tighty whities. Why? It seems weird to get hand-me-down briefs."
"Hand-me-downs," Cole said finally, plucking a blade of grass and twisting it between his fingers.
"Mom and Da aren't, weren't, wealthy or anything," his voice flattening in a way I'd learned meant he was navigating painful memories. Apollo's tail swished rhythmically behind us, the only sound for several heartbeats. "We struggled. We relied on the food and clothes bank at the church, especially during poor years caused by the harvest. Most of the clothes were from people who’d passed away, but I didn’t mind, to be honest."
The dragonfly took flight as Cole sat up abruptly, strands of hay sticking to his sweat-damp back. He plucked at a burr clinging to his thigh, avoiding my eyes. "Hand-me-downs were survival. Underwear, socks, t-shirts and mostly bib overalls were always appreciated as donations."
I watched a ladybug traverse the ridge of Cole's kneecap as he lay back down, his forearm covering his eyes. The afternoon light painted his torso in gold and shadow, highlighting the scar along his ribcage as I ran my fingers along his skin, the one scar I'd never asked him to explain.
"And this?" as my fingers traced the rough skin of the scar.
"Da called it character building," he continued, voice muffled by his arm. "He would sometimes use me as a punching bag, and Mom would cry when he was drunk. In fairness, though, they always made sure I had notebooks for school."
The confession about his childhood lingered between us like dust motes in the golden light, but my attention kept drifting downward. Cole's cock stood at half-mast against his belly, a bead of cum glistening at the tip. The scent of hay was heavy as I turned my head, watching the droplet cling stubbornly before gravity won out, tracing a slow path down his shaft.
Cole hadn't noticed my distraction yet; his forearm still draped over his eyes as he processed the vulnerability of his own admission. I shifted subtly, letting my lips brush the crease of his hip where sweat and sunshine had mingled into something earthy and sweet. His breath hitched when my tongue caught the stray droplet, the taste of him flooding my mouth.
"Steve," his voice cracking as I took him in fully, his cock twitching against my tongue while Apollo grazed obliviously nearby. Cole's fingers tangled in my hair as hay stems prickled my knees as I adjusted, the sun-warmed earth beneath us radiating heat against my bare skin. Cole's hips lifted instinctively when I hollowed my cheeks, his muscles tensing as I worked him deeper, not with the frantic urgency of our first times, but with the practised rhythm of someone who'd memorised every gasp and tremor as his other hand clutched at the grass beside us, uprooting clover as his back arched.
I slowed deliberately, relishing the way his abdomen quivered when I pulled off just enough to swirl my thumb over his tip. His arm finally slipped from his face, revealing eyes gone dark with want, and something softer beneath it, something that made my chest ache even as I took him back into the wet heat of my mouth.
Cole's hips stuttered against my mouth in tiny, involuntary jerks, the kind of movements that told me he was teetering right on that knife-edge between control and surrender. His thighs trembled against my shoulders, sweat beading where his skin pressed hot against mine. I loved this part most: the way his breath came in ragged bursts, the way his fingers tightened in my hair not to guide me, but to anchor himself as if he might float away otherwise.
A groan ripped from his throat when I flattened my tongue along his underside, the sound scattering a flock of sparrows from the nearby fence line. His cock twitched against my palate, that familiar salt-bitter taste flooding my senses as his heel dug into the small of my back. "Jesus, Steve," his voice cracking mid-syllable, his hips lifting in a shallow thrust I knew he couldn't suppress.
I slowed just enough to make him whimper, glancing up through my lashes to watch his face contort. I loved wrecking him like this, loved how his body spoke even when his words failed, how every tremor and gasp charted his unravelling like a map only I could read.
Apollo's contented munching provided counterpoint to Cole's ragged breathing, the horse's obliviousness somehow making the moment more intimate. "Fuck...I'm gonna..." his warning dissolving into a strangled moan as I took him deeper, one hand sliding beneath to cup his balls, rolling them gently just the way he liked.
His entire body went taut, tendons standing out in sharp relief along his neck as the first pulse hit my tongue. I swallowed reflexively, my nose brushing the coarse hair at his base as his release spilt hot and thick down my throat. Cole's cry echoed across the hayfield, loud enough to make Apollo's ears swivel toward us momentarily before the horse resumed grazing.
Cole shot spurt after spurt into my mouth, his thighs trembling against my shoulders as I swallowed him down, the taste of him flooding my senses like summer lightning, sharp and elemental. His fingers loosened their grip in my hair as his body sank back into the grass with a boneless sigh, his chest rising and falling in erratic cadence.
"You," he panted, his voice rough as gravel road, "have a fucking unholy talent for that," his fingers tracing the shell of my ear absently, his touch still electric despite his exhaustion. Apollo snorted nearby, his muzzle buried in clover as if deliberately ignoring us.
The late afternoon sun cast gold and shadows across our bodies, the way his softening cock lay against his thigh, still glistening. I licked my lips, catching the last traces of him, salty, musky and alive, before shifting to lie beside him, our shoulders pressing together in the grass. His fingers found mine, twining our hands as if sealing something unspoken between us.
The realisation hit us simultaneously, Apollo's lazy grazing had turned into impatient stomping, his ears flicking toward the distant barn where supper buckets would soon clang. Cole exhaled against my neck as he stood, his fingers trailing down my chest to where I was still half-hard from his taste lingering on my tongue. "Think you can ride like this?" his chuckle vibrating through my spine as he mounted behind me.
Apollo snorted when Cole's hand slid around my waist, fingers playing along my shaft with deliberate lightness. "Christ, Cole," I hissed as his thumb swiped over the tip, my hips jerking forward involuntarily. Apollo tossed his head in protest at the sudden movement, forcing me to grip the reins tighter while Cole's laughter warmed the back of my neck.
"You're gonna make me wreck us," I muttered, but Cole only hummed, his calloused palm sliding down to cup me fully now, his fingers tracing the veins with agonising precision. The contrast was dizzying, Apollo's steady plod toward home, Cole's wicked fingers reducing me to trembling urgency, the late sun turning everything amber and low except the blood pounding between my legs.
Apollo's hooves clicked against the gravel path as the barn loomed closer, Cole's hand still working me with relentless precision. My thighs trembled against the horse's sides, sweat beading where our skin stuck together. Cole's chuckle vibrated against my back as his thumb circled my tip, smearing pre-cum in slow, torturous circles. "Look at you," he murmured, lips brushing my ear, "dripping all over Apollo's back like some teenager on his first ride."
The insult should have made me angry, but the way his fingers tightened just shy of pain sent another thick droplet rolling down my shaft to join the mess. My knuckles whitened on the reins as Apollo tossed his head, sensing my distraction. Cole's free hand slid up my chest, calloused fingertips finding my nipple and pinching just hard enough to make me hiss. "Gonna cum for me before we reach the barn?" he taunted, his voice gone rough and low.
Of course, I was going to cum before we got back, and that's exactly what happened. Cole's fingers worked me, rubbing my shaft up and down as we rode through the fields. His thumb pressed just under the crown on that spot that made my vision blur, his other hand pinching my nipple in cruel counterpoint. Apollo's steady gait rocked us together, each step jostling me deeper into Cole's palm until my hips jerked forward uncontrollably.
"Fuck, Cole," the warning tearing from my throat, half-formed as my orgasm hit like a lightning strike. White-hot pleasure arched my spine backwards against Cole's chest as streaks of cum painted my groin and stomach as Cole pulled my cock back into my body. Cole chuckled against my sweat-damp neck, his fingers milking every last pulse from me until I sagged boneless against him.
"You animal," I panted, watching my release drip down my stomach to settle on my flaccid shaft.
Cole's hands moved over Apollo's flanks with practised ease, stripping the bridle with his usual deftness while I unbuckled the girth strap, both of us still gloriously but stupidly naked in the fading light of the stable. Sweat and hay dust clung to our skin as we worked in wordless sync, Apollo's contented sigh ruffling Cole's unkempt hair as the other stallions tucked into fresh hay and oats.
Neither of us reached for the pile of discarded clothes by the tack trunk; this casual nudity had become as natural as breathing over the past month, and Uncle Bill couldn't give a flying fuck what we looked like. I think he enjoyed seeing us naked, but he never mentioned anything negative or positive towards our nudity.
Just then, the barn door creaked open, sunlight slicing through dust to illuminate Cole's father standing frozen in the threshold.
"Da," Cole breathed. I watched Cole's spine straighten incrementally, his shoulders squaring in a way I'd never seen, not defiance exactly, but something far more meaningful, quiet certainty.
Cole's father lowered himself onto the hay bale with deliberate slowness, the weathered leather of his work boots creaking as he settled. Dust swirled in the shafts of late sunlight cutting through the barn, settling on his patched overalls, on the sweat-stained bandana around his neck, on the way his calloused hands flexed once before stilling on his knees. He didn't speak, just stared at us, at Cole standing barefoot in the straw, still glistening where my mouth had been on him minutes before, at me leaning against Apollo's flank with drying streaks marking my stomach.
The stallion shifted uneasily beneath my touch, sensing the tension thickening the air like summer humidity before a storm. I felt it too, the prickle along my spine, the way Cole's breathing shallowed beside me.
His father cleared his throat, spat into the straw beside the bale. "Church ladies have been askin' after you," he said finally. His gaze flickered to the pile of our discarded clothes by the tack trunk "Told 'em you were workin away."
Cole's fingers twitched at his sides as Apollo blew out a long breath through his nostrils, the sound loud in the heavy silence as I stood there, waiting for...an eruption maybe.
"You happy, son? Your mother and I miss you."
The question hung in the air like dust motes caught in the late sunbeams. Cole’s fingers curled into loose fists at his sides, his knuckles pale against his sun-darkened skin. Apollo shifted behind me, his warm breath gusting across my shoulder blades as if urging me to step forward, but this wasn’t my moment.
Cole exhaled a deep breath, slow and measured. "Yeah, Da. I'm happy."
His voice didn’t waver, but his throat worked once before he continued. "Steve and Bill, they’ve been good to me. Real good and... Steve’s my boyfriend, before you ask."
"Your ma... she worries and misses, you know. Keeps setting a place for you at supper."
Cole sat down next to his father on the hay bale, straw prickling against his bare ass and thighs. "Shall I put some clothes on?" he asked, voice softer than I'd ever heard it. His father shook his head, eyes tracing the familiar scars on Cole's shoulders.
"Don't worry, son. I'm used to you running around buck naked at home since you could walk and now...I get the gay thing. The need for you to have a boyfriend. We get everything, and we want you to come home."
Blaze licked Cole's neck from behind as Apollo lipped at my shoulder, his warm breath stirring the hair at my nape as Cole's father cleared his throat again. "Your ma...she made peach cobbler. Your favourite."
His father's boot scuffed the dirt floor, carving half-moons into the packed earth. "That stallion of yours," he said abruptly, nodding toward Apollo. "Looks just like old Jasper. Remember how he'd...Fuck, he's huge. Much bigger than Jasper."
"Yeah, same colours Da, but not the same and Blaze is mine. He's next to Apollo, Steve's favourite."
The silence stretched taut as a barbed wire fence in winter. Apollo shifted behind me, his tail swatting at flies that weren't there. Cole's father kept staring at his own hands like they held some secret written in the cracked calluses, the dirt ground permanently into his knuckles.
"Peach cobbler," Cole repeated softly, his voice catching on the second syllable. I watched his throat work, saw the way his fingers dug into his thighs just hard enough to leave pale crescents in the tan.
Apollo lipped at my shoulder again, his warm breath stirring the fine hairs at my nape as Cole's father cleared his throat. "Got fresh cream from the Jerseys too," he added, like this was any ordinary invitation, like we weren't standing there naked.
"Can Steve come?" Cole asked.
Cole's father took a deep breath this time, the sound whistling faintly past his missing front tooth. "Ain't my table," he said finally, boot scuffing the packed earth again. "Your Ma sets the places at the table, but I can't see a problem as long as you wear some tighty whities at least."
We did better than that. Bill tossed us a pair of clean shirts from the porch railing as we sprinted barefoot across the yard, Cole catching his midair with that reflexes-of-a-farmhand grace I still envied. The truck bed smelled of fresh-cut hay and diesel, the metal scorching our thighs through thin shorts as we huddled against the cab for shade. Cole's fingers laced through mine with a squeeze that said everything his voice couldn't, how the truck's familiar vibrations felt different now with his father's eyes watching us in the rearview, how the wind smelled sweeter knowing home wouldn't slam its door this time.
Cole's home, the farmhouse he had called home since a child, materialised. His mother appeared in the screen door before we'd fully rolled to a stop, flour-dusted hands clutching her apron.
For three heartbeats, her face was pure… I couldn’t really decide, but her mouth was tight, her eyes raking me with the same lethal look as Cole, aiming a rifle. Then her boy wrapped around her, all sinew and sunburn and the same cowlick he'd had at six, and her hands flew to his cheeks like she was memorising the changes. When Cole turned without releasing her, tugging me forward by our still-clasped hands, her shoulders dropped incrementally.
"Mom, this is Steve," Cole announced proudly as he glanced at his father unloading tools from the cab, then back to her with newfound steel in his voice. "My boyfriend."
His mother's floury fingers rose, not toward me, but to trace the healed split in Cole's eyebrow where his father's wedding ring had caught him at fourteen. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and caring. "You look..." a tremble betraying her as she tucked a strand of hair behind Cole's ear. "Happy."
"Mom, I am… so happy. The happiest I've ever been." Cole's thumb brushed across her flour-dusted knuckles, his voice catching on the simple truth of it. "Working with their Shires, Christ, you should see them, like living mountains, but I miss..."
His gaze flickered past her shoulder to the dented cookie sheet cooling on the counter, the chipped blue mug hanging from its familiar hook.
Cole's father scuffed his boots on the braided rug, his calloused hands flexing around the pitcher of iced tea. Condensation dripped onto the checked tablecloth where three places were set, three, not two, the third plate slightly crooked like someone had added it at the last minute.
"Those Shire's of Bill's," his father said abruptly, setting the pitcher down hard enough to make the ice clink. "Good lines and good breeding stock?" the question hanging between them, ordinary as weather talk, but his eyes kept darting to where Cole's pinky curled around mine under the table.
Cole exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing incrementally. "Better than good. Apollo's grandsire took reserve champion at Calgary," his knee bounced against mine under the table, the way it did when he got excited about bloodlines.
The evening was a huge success. Some tears, some hugs, and some stories for me of Cole growing up, and I could tell that Cole was delighted. The laughter lingered in our footsteps as we crunched down the gravel road, Cole’s fingers warm and sure around mine. Behind us, the farmhouse windows glowed amber, his mother’s silhouette still visible in the kitchen, wiping down plates with a dish towel she’d forgotten to toss aside.
"You realise," Cole murmured, swinging our clasped hands like we were kids skipping home from a county fair, "my Da didn’t call me a single name tonight. Not even that stupid ‘fairy boy’ shit he used to..." his voice catching, not from pain but from the weight of the miracle that we had forgiven each other.
I squeezed his hand, the words sticking in my throat. Cole’s joy was a physical thing tonight, his shoulders loose, spine unclenched, as he kicked off his shoes to be barefoot. Even the crickets seemed to chirp in triple time to match his heartbeat as he stopped walking and turned me to face him.
Cole's fingers rested on my hips as he pressed a kiss onto his lips, his grin wicked under the oak tree that stood at the entrance to Bill's farm. "Guess what I liberated from Bill's workshop tonight, as he pulled the bottle out of his pocket?"
"I don't know," I lied, already recognising the shape of that particular bottle, the one with the faded label Bill used for equine joint treatments. The one we'd repurposed weeks ago when Cole discovered its surprising silkiness on human skin.
"It's been a couple of weeks since you fucked me properly," he murmured, his lips brushing my earlobe as he lifted my t-shirt over my head.
His hands slid up my ribs, thumbs catching on my nipples just hard enough to make me gasp. "Tell you what..." his teeth grazed my shoulder "...you lie back on the bench and I'll ride you like Apollo taking a jump."
The bench was one of those wrought-iron garden pieces Bill kept under the old oak, not to be confused with the exercise bench on the veranda, its scrollwork cool against my bare shoulders as Cole pushed me down onto it. The night air smelled of cut grass and the faint metallic tang of the coming storm, but all I could focus on was the way Cole's teeth caught his lower lip.
"Fuck, you're beautiful like this," he murmured, his hands skating down my ribs to pop the button of my jeans.
The cast iron groaned faintly beneath me as I arched up, helping him pull the denim and cotton of my briefs past my hips. Cole made this small, punched-out noise in his throat when my cock sprang free, the same sound he'd made the first time he'd seen me naked, and for a heartbeat, I wondered if he'd ever get used to me, if I'd ever stop thrilling at his reactions.
His own clothes came off in a series of hurried movements, belt buckle clattering against the flagstones, t-shirt catching on his elbows until he abandoned it halfway up his torso with a frustrated growl. Moonlight caught the sweat-slick hollow of his throat, the way his erection curved toward his bellybutton, the old scar along his ribs that I knew by touch now. He fumbled with the stolen bottle, slicking his fingers with more urgency than grace, and the first cold slide of lubricant against my cock made me hiss through my teeth.
Cole's laugh was all breath and heat as he straddled my thighs, working me with long, slow strokes that left me trembling. "Easy, Loverboy," he murmured, leaning down to nip at my collarbone while his free hand guided me toward his entrance. The first press was electric, tight heat and hesitant pressure, and then Cole was sinking onto me with a groan that vibrated through my chest. His thighs trembled against mine, his fingers digging into my shoulders as he took me inch by excruciating inch.
Cole's descent was a slow unravelling, his body yielding millimetre by millimetre until our hips met with a quiet slap of skin. The bench's wrought iron groaned beneath us, its decorative vines digging into my shoulder blades, a sharp counterpoint to the molten heat engulfing my cock. Moonlight caught the sweat beading along Cole's collarbones as he paused, trembling, his fingers kneading my pectorals like he was mapping unfamiliar terrain.
"Christ, you feel..." his words dissolving into a punched-out gasp as he rocked forward experimentally, his prostate dragging against my hard cock in a way that made his thighs jerk. The bottle of lube lay discarded in the grass, its cap missing, no longer required, as the scent of wintergreen and horse musk rose between us.
I reached up to thumb away the droplet of sweat trailing down his chest, but Cole caught my wrist, pinning it above my head with surprising strength. "No," he panted, his callouses scraping my pulse point. "Just...let me." His hips rolled in a shallow undulation that had me seeing stars, his free hand braced against the bench's armrest where decades of weather had worn the iron smooth.
The night air hummed with crickets and the distant whicker of horses, but all I could hear was Cole's ragged breathing syncing with the creak of metal beneath us.
Cole's breath hitched as his hips stuttered; that first full downward plunge always wrecked him, his body seizing around me in involuntary pulses. The ironwork dug crescent moons into my shoulders as he arched back, moonlight glazing the sweat-slicked hollow of his throat. His thighs trembled where they bracketed mine, the same way Apollo's flanks quivered after clearing a jump.
"Fuck," he gasped, as his spine curved like a question mark, his cock bobbing untouched between us, pearling at the tip with each downward grind.
I knew better than to reach for him. Tonight was about surrender, letting Cole set the pace as he'd done in the hayloft weeks ago, when he'd first traced the stretch marks on my hips with reverent curiosity. His hands slid up my chest, twisting my nipples just hard enough to make my hips jerk upward.
"Easy," Cole murmured, his voice roughened by pleasure. He braced one hand against the scrolling iron above my head, the other guiding my grip to the bench's armrest. "Just take what I give you."
The warning died in my throat as my hips bucked upward uncontrollably, the iron bench screeching against flagstones. Cole's eyes flew wide, that split-second of startled realisation before pleasure overrode everything, and then he was coming, ropes of white fluid streaking my chest and stomach in hot arcs as his body clamped down on me in rhythmic pulses.
The sight of him unravelling above me, the way his release splattered across my chest in perfect synchrony with my own renewed climax, sent another surge boiling up from my groin. Cum flooded into him in a flow that defied biology, my cock twitching inside him with aftershocks that felt divine.
Cole collapsed forward, his forearms bracketing my head, our sweat-slick chests pressing together in a sticky mess. His breath hitched against my neck where he'd buried his face, his hips still making tiny involuntary circles that milked the last drops from me. The scent of sex and wintergreen hung thick between us, undercut by the iron-and-rain smell of the storm brewing overhead.
"Jesus fuck," Cole panted into the hollow of my throat, his voice wrecked as it started to rain.
The first raindrops hit like cold needles, shockingly sharp against our sweat-slicked skin. Cole gasped into my mouth, his tongue still tangled with mine, when the sky split open, a sudden deluge that plastered his hair flat against his forehead in dark strands. Water cascaded down the hollow of his throat, pooled in the divot between his collarbones, and for one suspended moment, we just stared at each other, breathless and stupid with wonder.
Then Cole laughed, that unguarded, belly-deep sound I'd only heard since he'd started working with Apollo and grabbed my wrist. "Come on!" as he dragged me upright, our bodies sliding together with rainwater easing the friction of semen and sweat.
The downpour transformed everything; the garden bench became a gleaming iron sculpture, the grass a slick emerald sea that squelched beneath our bare feet as we stumbled into the storm's heart.
Cole spun me under the oak's thrashing branches, his hands finding my hips as thunder rumbled somewhere beyond Bill's pasture. Water streamed down his nose and dripped off his chin when he leaned in close. His eyelashes were spiked with rain when he blinked, his pupils blown wide despite the lightning flickering overhead. "Steve," he shouted over the downpour, his thumbs digging into the dimples above my ass.
The words tore out of him as something long buried: "I love you!"
The words hung between us for a heartbeat, just long enough for the rain to fill my mouth when I gasped, before our knees hit the mud simultaneously. Cole's fingers tangled in my hair as we fell together, his lips crashing against mine with bruising force. We rolled through the slick grass like foals learning to stand, earth and rainwater churning beneath us as we grappled for purchase on each other's slippery skin.
Cole's teeth caught my lower lip when I tried to speak again, his growl vibrating through my chest. "Say it properly," he demanded against my mouth, rainwater dripping from his nose onto my cheeks. His thigh wedged between mine, pressing insistently against my spent cock as the storm roared around us.
"I love you too, Cole," I gasped into the space between his teeth, the words tasting of ozone and wet earth. His answering groan got swallowed by thunder as we rolled again, his back hitting the ground with a splash that soaked my chest.
Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating Cole's face in stark relief, his eyebrows dark smudges against his forehead, his mouth reddened from my beard stubble. Somewhere behind us, Apollo whinnied sharply, but Cole's hands were already mapping my ribs like he needed to memorise me in this exact moment.
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