The Offer
(HANK)
I found it. On the pillow, just where I left it. But it was open.
His words are there. A different script, cutting through my own. A steady hand where mine was a tremor.
… We can jump into it together. Just you and me. Are you ready? As 1…2, 3. Into the sea. At 00:01.
I read it. Then I read it again. I sat on the bunk, the journal heavy in my hands, and I felt the last of my defenses crumble to dust. There was no fear in his words. Only certainty. An answer to every one of my silent, screaming questions.
The plan formed not as a thought, but as an instinct. A pull. As if I suddenly knew exactly what he meant. Clever little man.
I check my watch. It’s almost midnight. My voice screams in my head.
Now.
I’ve never walked the corridors so fast. I arrive in a pant, outside his bunk, eying the hallways.
23C
As 1...2, 3. Into the sea. His clue. To come to him. As one. To his room: 2. 3. Into the sea. The C. 23C.
At 00:01. One minute after midnight. As one. At one minute after the day
The distant, rhythmic thrum of the generators is the only sound I hear, other than my own heart pounding. I’m pretending to look for a sign on the door, patiently waiting. Knowing he will check.
When the door hisses open I don’t flinch, or even breathe. I just step inside quickly so no one catches me.
And then I lift my eyes from the bare feet I see in front of me to his eyes, and we lock our gaze.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me. He just closes the door behind him, and the world shrinks to this room. To us.
No storm to blame. No adrenaline. Just the quiet, and the tension, and the words written in a book between us.
He stands in front of me, wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs, his hands hanging by his side. Waiting. His eyes are huge in the dim light of his smaller bunk.
I lean back against the door, crossing my arms. Not to block him out. To hold myself together, so he doesn’t see me shaking.
“Your line,” I say. My voice is low, barely a whisper, but it echoes in the quiet space between us. “In the journal.” I pause, my throat tight. “Am I the mountain?”
A slow, beautiful smile touches his lips. It’s not cocky. It’s… relieved. He takes a step closer. Then another. Until I can see the flecks of green in his grey eyes.
“Have you looked in a mirror? You are a fucking mountain of a man,” he says. His voice is just as quiet. Just as sure. “And I’m not afraid of this, Hank.” He’s close enough to touch now. He doesn’t reach for me though. He just looks up. His gaze holding mine, pinning me in place. “I’m only afraid of losing it.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. There it is. The final, simple truth. The same fear that has been clawing at my own guts.
“So how do we do this?” I ask, and await his answer. “Out here? On this rig.”
He gives a little shrug. But his eyes are glistening. His smile is infectious. “Like this. You brought me to your room once. And it worked. Didn’t it?” He says, that cocky grin back. “So why not try it here too?”
I can’t help but match it. His grin. My arms come undone and I stand up straight.
“I’m usually the last to close my door on my floor. Midnight the corridor is empty.” I say factually. My words feeling foreign and right. “I can always leave my door open at midnight. And you can just come right in. By then everyone else is sleeping. Or working. I had no problem getting here. Or anyone seeing me walking in.”
It’s not a question. It’s an offering. A plan. His plan really. But I want to offer my own room too. So we can do this. Just like he offered. Together.
His smile widens even more, a flash of white in the gloom. “I’m like a ninja at night. We can alternate then. I’ll come to you. Or you can come to me. At midnight.”
A silent agreement. A conspiracy of two. We are no longer a driller and a roustabout pulled together by chaos. We are partners. Architects of our own secret world, built in the shadows of this loud, brutal place.
“We could’ve just told each other. Instead of turning this into a spy novel.” I mumble, feeling a flush flowing up my cheeks.
He snorts and folds his arms over his hard chest. “I would have! But you seemed to be avoiding me all the time! Like you were afraid to talk to me, about this. I figured I needed to get your attention somehow.”
I feel the guilt wash over me. He’s right. I went inwards. Like I always do. I stand there for what feels like a moment frozen in time, letting my eyes burn over his mostly naked flesh. I can see the outline of his cock in his underwear, already thick and hard for me. I feel my own in my pants, aching to be released again.
“I was afraid…” I start to say, but his eyes widen and he nods.
“I know. I was too.” He says quietly, looking down briefly before he looks back up and our eyes connect.
And then we both sort of laugh, nervously, stupidly, like we’ve been two dumb fools for the past few days. His eyes are sparkling. His smile is wide. And I’m melting inside. Big time
And then his hand moves up to my hand, and he takes it in his. And steps towards me.
I feel like my skin is burning.
I can’t help but think of how I will start my next entry when I return to my room. The words already forming in my head as the heat from his hand radiates within me.
The rig, with all its rules and eyes, just became the most private place on earth. Just act casually. Like we belong here. Right here in my own slice of heaven. His cabin. Or my bunk. Now my two most favorite places.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(NOAH)
He’s here.
He’s here by choice. The storm was a wild, desperate collision of the longing we both felt. The morning after was a soft, sleepy miracle, ripped apart too soon by the cleanup waiting for us both. But this… this is a choice. He figured out my message. He wants it too. A deliberate, sober, terrifyingly clear-eyed choice we are both making. There’s no adrenaline to blame, no darkness to hide in. There will be the grey, practical light of morning filtering through the portholes. We will be wide awake without any desperate need to leave.
I stepped closer to him, taking his hand. He is breathing heavily, almost afraid to move. I can see the thoughts passing through his eyes. Like him, a thousand thoughts are running through my head in this single instant.
I hope he kisses me. Not like the first time, a frantic claiming against a shuddering wall, but slowly. I want to learn the shape of his mouth without the panic of the world ending around us. I want to feel the scratch of his stubble against my palm, to trace the line of his jaw just because I can.
I hope he talks to me. I want to hear the things he writes in that journal spoken in that low, gravelly rumble, meant only for me. I want to make him say my name again as his excitement grows.
I hope he lets me touch him. Not just with the frantic need of before, but with curiosity. I want to feel the dense muscle of his shoulders, the solid plane of his chest, the surprising softness of his skin over all that hardened strength. I want to create a memory of his touch, responding to the feeling properly, and giving him the equal feeling of having my hands on him.
Most of all, I hope he lets down the last of his guard. I want to see the Hank from the journal, the one who is afraid of the abyss but more afraid of being there alone. I want him to know he doesn’t have to be the unshakable Driller with me. He can just be Hank.
Just a few minutes ago I had stood shaking, in just my underwear, staring at my watch, watching the second-hand count down the time, wondering if he’d come, desperate for him to get here. Me, in front of my own cabin door, standing in the center of the room in just my underwear, my body buzzing, completely vulnerable, listening for the sound of his footsteps.
The knock startled me. And when I opened the door, there he was, panting. Without a word he stepped inside.
This is it. Our secret rebellion on this rig begins now. And I have never been more ready for anything in my life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
(HANK)
I can hear my own breath escaping my nostrils. His hand is warm, steady in mine. My heart is thumping so hard it feels like my chest will burst.
The silence in here is a different kind than it was with him during the storm. There’s a sense of calm. Not desperation or frantic lust. Like we belong here.
He’s here. Standing in the middle of his room, in front of me. The sight of him, alone like this, ready for me… it does something to my chest. Makes it hard to breathe right.
His eyes are wide, a little wild. Not with fear. With anticipation. The same electric current that’s been buzzing in my veins for days.
We don’t speak anymore. What is there to say that the journal hasn’t already screamed?
I take a step towards him, to close the gap even more. He took the first one when he took my hand. I want to show him I want this too. My offer. I’m here.
My larger body in my clean white tee and joggers I slipped on seem twice the size of him. My feet in my runners are quiet on the floor as they move around his perfect bare feet. I move right into him, closer than I’d ever dare on the other side of his door. I can feel the heat coming off his practically naked body.
He looks up at me, his stormy eyes searching mine. “Hank,” he breathes. Just my name. But it sounds so new coming from him. Henry is gone. Hank has been found. “I want you.”
My control, the last thin wire holding me together, snaps.
I don’t kiss him. Not yet. Even though I am dying to. Even though all the blood has descended to my other organ. I don’t want to forget this moment.
I bring my hands up, slow, giving him every chance to pull away. I frame his face with my palms. My thumbs, rough and scarred, stroke the high arches of his cheekbones. His skin is so smooth. So alive. He lets out a shaky sigh and leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed.
This. This is what I wanted. To touch him without an excuse. To feel the reality of him, solid and trusting under my hands.
“Noah,” I say, and my voice is wrecked. Like it’s a confession I’ve been keeping inside. “I want you too.”
His eyes open, and the look in them is my undoing. It’s full of a trust so complete it terrifies me.
I bend my head. Finally.
And I kiss him.
It’s not like the storm. There’s no desperation in it. No panic. It’s slow. Deliberate. My lips move against his, parting his, gently, like I’m apologizing for my gruffness before. The sound of our lips meeting echoes in his room, and press harder, letting my tongue slide in, as if it’s a promise for what comes next. His hands come up to grip my wrists, not to pull me away, but to hold me there. To anchor himself to me.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing like we’ve just surfaced from deep water.
He rests his forehead against my chest, right over my pounding heart. I wrap my arms around him, my hands splayed across his back, feeling the powerful muscles shift as my arms feel his bare skin. He fits. God, he fits against me like he was made to be there.
“I’m ready to jump into it together,” I whisper into his hair, repeating his words, making them a vow.
He nods against my chest, his arms tightening around my waist. “Together.”
We stand like that for a long time, in the quiet of his room. The Driller and the roustabout are gone. There’s only Hank and Noah.
And for the first time since I stepped onto this rig fifteen years ago, I am not lonely.
I bend to kiss him again and he is moving against me. Crawling upwards. I lift him up, easily. He’s so light. His legs feel good wrapped around me. I’m sure he can feel how hard I am as my arms engulf him in an even firmer grip.
There is a different passion this time. The storm made us hungry in a different way. This has been building now for days. This is beyond pent up feelings. This is an unleashing.
I move forward, not breaking our kiss, my eyes slightly open to see the bed behind us. Ever so gently I lay him down, not wanting to break our embrace.
Neither does he as he pulls me down on him, reaching for the hem of my white undershirt. In a move like we rehearsed it, my shirt is off fast, and his hands grip my bubbled pecs firmly. He lets out a sound that makes me grin. His eyes dart to my bare muscles, his eyes running over my wide shoulders, my pecs, as his hands slide back up my arms to my neck and he is pulling me down again.
And down I go, willingly, kissing him harder, my tongue exploring the wetness of his mouth. There is a soft hum in his throat and I feel a smile growing on my lips again. My little humming gymnast. I push myself into him, feeling my trapped member against the firmness of his ass as he moves under me, wrapping his bare legs around me again.
I want to slide into him already. But this time, I want to enjoy this little gymnast.
I push his hands up over his head, eying him greedily, giving him a smile that makes him smile widely back at me and arch his back. And then my eyes close slightly and my mouth begins to move down his smooth muscular physique. He is squirming, moaning, as I hold his two hands in my one large one. He is trapped. He’s mine. And he is enjoying this just as much as I am.
I kiss and tongue his small bellybutton, seeing his abs tighten in surprise, my stubbled chin brushing against the pipe hiding in his black boxer briefs. I let go of his hands and peel the fabric back, revealing the pulsing manhood of this gymnast, the smell of him filling me and making me groan in lustful hunger.
I missed this. So much more than I realized as I open my mouth and swallow him whole. I hear him gasp, and a hand grabs my hair as his legs spread wider.
“Oh my god,” he whispers as I deep throat him, moving around him, enjoying his tool for a moment, before my mouth slips downward, over his round smooth balls, and I’m pushing his glorious ass upwards.
I hear more moans, and feel his hand in my hair as my tongue searches out the sweetness that is Noah that I have come to crave already. My face buries itself under him, his ass resting on me as I probe into him. I am hungry. And he loves what I’m doing.
With a flushed face he appears at mine, grabbing my cheeks to kiss me. He sucks my tongue back, tasting his own scent, pushing me backwards. His hands move to my joggers and he is pushing, anxious to get at me.
I rock back, standing up to shuck my pants, kick off my shoes and step out, bare foot, naked, in front of him.
I watch his magnificent body as he moves to me, down on his knees, and grabs my pole and starts to suck it down. My hands can’t help themselves, to feel his body, to grab his muscles, to finger his still wet hole.
He sucks. I finger. He moans. I groan. I am holding back. I want to fuck him senseless, ram my cock down his throat, fill his ass with my love. I stare up at the ceiling and run my hands over my own face to calm myself, or he’ll suck every drop from me.
“I need to be inside you,” I moan out pulling him off my dick, hearing the pop of his mouth as he pants and backs onto the bed.
He props himself on his back and lifts his smooth legs up, inviting me back. I growl and my face wets his ass again, licking and kissing and spitting to get him wet, before I stand up and shake my hard erection at his leg, slapping it around his entrance.
“Please Hank,” he begs, staring at me, those eyes locked on mine. “I need you too.”
Something in those words reach into my heart. I catch my own breath before I bend him backwards, pushing one leg towards his ear as I line myself up and I place the head of myself at his opening. I let go, and look up at him, and feel myself sliding in.
Or is it Noah that is pulling me inside him.
I sink in all the way to a muffled sound before I am pulling his body into mine, wrapping myself around him, and sliding my tongue into his mouth as I slowly begin to move in and out of my little gymnast.
“You feel so good,” he moans under me, turning his head sideways, showing me how lost in the sensation he is.
“So do you,” I mumble into his neck, pushing him backwards with my legs, shoving myself so deep in him that I feel like we are one indeed. “Unbelievably good.”
I feel his hands move down my sides, reach around to my ass where he grabs me firmly and spreads his legs wider. His eyes are glazed over, but he’s looking at me. I am trying my hardest not to fuck like a beast, like the wild animal he is turning me into. I am holding back. But he feels incredible.
“I want you to cum inside me again Hank. I’ve been wanting you for days.” He barely whispers out between the grunts he emits as I slowly drive myself inside him deeper with every thrust.
I make a sound, half grunt, half relief I think as I study him. He feels so good I know I won’t last.
“You won’t have to wait days anymore.” I lean over and kiss him, hard. And I fuck him harder. “I want you every night.”
His fingers dig into my ass and he growls, kissing me back, with more hunger than ever and I can’t hold back any longer. I unload in him with a grunt, and with such force, that his eyes widen and his own dick spews out white liquid with every thrust I give him. His body shakes momentarily as he hangs on to me, pushing himself into me as much as I am pushing into him. He is panting hard, breathing heavily, looking rather shocked.
“Holy fuck my man!” He whispers out, making sure I didn’t pull out, wrapping his entire body around me, pulling me down onto him. “Don’t move. Stay inside me.”
I lay down on him, panting myself, breathing hard. I feel his body relaxing under me, letting me cover him with mine.
This was what I missed the most. That after moment, catching our breaths, post orgasm, bathing in each other.
This was even better than the first time.
I snuggle up to his body. We are wrapped tightly together in his bed. Naked. Vulnerable. Letting our breathing return to normal.
As we settle in, finding that natural connection between two bodies, I stare up at the ceiling. His head is on my chest. My arm is around him, under his neck. His leg is on mine. A smile drifts across my lips as I picture my journal in my room.
I’ve been waiting for this.
End log.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
