The Abyss
(NOAH)
Weeks.
We’ve been able to sneak around the Northern Pioneer for weeks now. It feels like a lifetime has passed since that storm brought us together. Now if feels like my world has split in two: there’s the world everyone sees – Hank the Tank, with his gruff commands as the Driller, all masculine and greasy, the huge Driller that exudes testosterone; and me, the Roustabout, the new kid who’s learned his respectful place among all these men, pulling his own weight, doing what he’s told, taking initiative as the newest crew member Parker becomes the focus of their jeers and taunts.
But then there’s our world at night, after our shift, the nightly meetings in each other’s rooms – there’s passion and cuddling, nakedness with pure intensity, silent orgasms and hunger. Our little secret.
Our cabins after midnight have become our private heaven. We alternate every night, meeting at the other’s room without a word. When the door is closed, we talk in whispers, our voices lost in each other’s mouths. He’ll lean against the door of my closed cabin door and just watch me, his gaze enough to make me harder than steel, as he tells me about how hard it is to keep his hands off me all day long.
I’ll climb up on him in his room, once the door is closed, and moan in his ear how much I’ve been thinking about him sliding inside me.
In between the passion and sex, as we lay there naked together, I’ve learned a lot more about Hank, and I’ve been allowing him to find out more about me.
He’s told me bits and pieces about his first year on the rigs, the self-induced loneliness he created for himself, and the grief he’s been carrying. He doesn’t talk much about Jim, but I know he wants to, eventually. It seems like this mountain of a man is giving in to talking more openly about his past as we quietly talk in the darkness.
I’ve shared with him some stories of competing, the pressure that goes with it, and the hollow feeling after the gold medal. I have yet to share details about my coach, and Liam, but they are on the tip of my tongue. I marvel at how, as we let our fingers caress spots on our bodies, he listens like my stories are the most important tales he’s ever heard. For the first time, I am sharing my true self to him, opening up to a man like I’ve never done before.
Every night feels like a thrill to me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s the sex I’m craving, or the talking afterwards. After working all day, side by side with him, I can’t seem to stop my heart from pounding once the day ends, the showers are done, and the food is eaten. I watch the clock like a hawk, trying my hardest to avoid his eyes, knowing my looks are slowly giving way to how I feel about him.
We’ve even become more daring, in those moments where we have ensured no one is around. We’ve slipped into small closets, narrow empty stairwells, and even the machine room once when it was empty.
Most recently, we were standing outside in a far corner of the rig just after our shift, the others already eating or showering, when we noticed we were all alone. He pulled me back, telling me he “just had to.” He spun me around and pressed himself up against me and managed to slide my overalls down over my ass to slide his erect cock into me so fast, scratching an itch we couldn’t’ seem to wait for that night, fucking me fast and furiously, dumping a load into me within minutes. It left me breathless, and walking a bit odd when I entered the cafeteria only moments later. But only he noticed, his face brighter than usual as we sat together eating in quiet humour.
But the best, always the best, is feeling the weight of him over me, in his bunk, as the gentle mountain quietly makes love to me on my back, kissing me the entire time, whispering my name in my ear as he fills me up with his love.
I had begun to wonder how long this safe sanctuary of ours could last amidst the turmoil of this rig. My own harsh critic, my inner fears were coming out against my will, despite my feelings. Because the signs were there.
It started subtly. A comment here and there from Dex, his voice a little too loud, but meant to carry. "Better do what the Driller says, Evans. He seems real invested in your... training." A few of the others would chuckle, but I would pass it off as my own mind overreacting.
But the comments kept coming over the past few days and the fear inside me seemed to be spreading. I felt eyes on me during shifts. What I used to take as cautious respect from the others now felt like deeper, curious glances that darted away when I looked up. The easy camaraderie I’d slowly built with some of the crew was gone, replaced by a noticeable distance. The crew seemed to be keeping their distance from me. They were being careful.
I ignored it all as best I could. Telling myself I was overreacting. Telling myself I was reading too much into things. We were always careful. We were always watching. We were making this work.
By 23:58 the corridor is silent, with most of the crew already asleep. I reach his door—3A—and my hand doesn’t hesitate. He no longer needs to keep it wide open because we both know it’s unlocked.
I slip inside, and the world of the Northern Pioneer vanishes.
I find him sitting up in his bed, waiting for me, patiently as I enter his room. He gives me that sexy grin and I practically melt standing there. I peel my shirt off and push my sweats down, stepping out of my casual clothes to stand naked before him, my dick already showing him just how hungry I am. Likewise, he sits up straighter and tugs at his shirt, revealing that packed muscular torso of beef, and slides his boxers up from his lifted hips. Just the sight of him makes me catch my breath.
“Hey,” he rumbles softly, his lips spreading into a warm smile just for me.
“Hey,” I whisper back, moving slowly towards him on the bed.
Here, he isn’t my boss, the Driller, the brutish man everyone seems to fear. He’s just Hank. And I am just Noah. And for a few precious hours, we don’t have to hide a thing.
I smile back at him as I crawl onto the bed, climbing around him, my eyes on his, his eyes never leave my face. He watches me with a growing admiration, watching me move. I feel like I am performing again, moving to his lips to kiss him, then sliding down his pecs to his already hard tool, warming it with my mouth, lubing it with my spit, going for gold as I finally climb over him, positioning my legs around his bigger ones to ride him.
I’m still wet and open after his earlier load he dumped in me quickly in the corner of the rig so he slides into me easily. I feel my body responding and my eyes close as he stretches me wide open again. I lean down over him and bury my face in the solid warmth of his chest, inhaling the scent that is just him as he sinks into me all the way. His arms wrap around me, strong and sure, and he lets out a long, slow sigh.
It’s these moments, when he enters me so slowly that make me leak and tremble in his arms. He moves inside me with careful precision, letting me take charge and control the depth this time, like he is afraid he will split me in two. We are quiet, whispering to each other as we fuse together.
I love the feeling of control, grabbing his big muscles as I move my body up and down his shaft. I love watching him watch me. I love seeing his eyes soften when I know he’s close. I love the feel of his big hands caressing my entire body as he lets me use his dick for our pleasure. I love the feel of his legs under me, my hands on his neck, kissing him as he grabs my waist to hold me in place when it’s his time to explode.
It’s like the day leads to these moments, after watching him for so long, waiting for him to enter me, aching to have him, that when I finally do, it’s been a buildup of intense passion.
As I’m in my own throes of pleasure I feel his big hand grip me, his fist squeezing around my cock as his other hand glides up my pec.
“Together.” He whispers softly in his cabin, forcing my eyes to open to his, my own hands wrapping around each of his thick wrists to hang on to him as he expertly strokes my cock in time with my inner walls gripping his.
My mouth gapes open as I watch him. His muscles tense. I can see his jaw clench and I know I’m riding him to his own explosion as I feel my own rise. I nod, and pant, and hang on to his wrists.
I feel the warmth flood within me as he lets out a quiet puff of air and I shudder immediately, expelling my own day’s load all over his big chest. My motions slow; his fist squeezes tighter; our breaths return to normal. And then I am moving to his lips again.
I love this feeling. I love curling up into him. I love the embrace afterwards and the thumping of his heart in his chest as we lay naked together in his bed.
There are times when I hate to sneak away, and must have him one more time. He is amazed I can handle it, but he is always up for the task. Often the second time is longer, like he doesn’t want me to go. We have become adventurous, exploring different positions, my body a temple of acrobatic movements his finds incredible in the small confines of 3A or 23C. He loves to nail me standing up, trying hard not to lose control or bang me too hard against the walls in case he wakes up one of our crew. He’s big enough, and I am small enough, he can simply just hold me against him, in the air, standing there in the middle of his room with me impaled on him, releasing his warm liquid into me in a quiet, mouth breathing shudder.
As I lay next to the resting giant of a man, I look to his ceiling and thank God that the helicopter brought me here when it did. Because I know I’m falling in love with this mountain of a man.
My bliss was short lived though. Because the very next day, after our shift, all those fears about the others came to light. The confrontation that solidified my fears happened in the mess hall.
I was carrying my tray back, my mind already drifting to Hank and his turn to visit my cabin at the stroke of midnight so I wasn’t paying attention.
Dex "accidentally" stepped right into my path. The collision was hard, and obviously deliberate. My tray clattered to the floor, sending scraps of food and a plastic cup skittering across the deck.
"Whoops, sorry there, boy toy," he said, his voice a low sneer. He didn't move to help. Instead, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. The few crew members nearby suddenly found something fascinating about their boots.
"You and Richardson," he whispered, the words meant only for me. "You think you're clever? I see the looks. I know what's going after lights out. You better watch your step. This ain't a place for your kind of gymnastics."
My blood ran cold. It wasn't a vague insinuation anymore or my mind racing away with scared thoughts. It was a direct threat. He knew. He’d been watching.
I met his gaze, my own anger surging. I didn’t feel like the scared athlete from before. Despite the knot in my stomach, and the grinding of my teeth, I took a step up to him even closer and snapped back. "You don't know what you're talking about, Dex. Maybe you have me confused with Parker, sneaking around in the showers looking for something dirty?"
He just smirked, not taking the bait as I hoped he would. I could see his lips curl and he held his mouth near my ear to deliver another message. “Yeah? Maybe I will be confused next time and give you what you really deserve. I can make sure I clean you up good, you little faggot.” He backed away and an even wider, triumphant curl of his lip spread across his face before he turned and walked away, leaving me to clean up the mess.
I went straight to my room, fear taking over and sending me fleeing in a shaking mess.
Hank was knocking on my cabin door in under three minutes. He must have witnessed the interaction. He saw the tension in my frame, the tremor in my hands and the way I was avoiding his eyes.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice tight.
I told him fast: the bump, the whisper, the specific threat. As I spoke, he listened quietly but his face darkened, and I could see his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"I'll handle it," he growled, turning to leave. "I'll pull him aside and—"
"No!" The word burst out of me in a sudden panic. I grabbed his arm. "Hank, no. That's exactly what he wants. If you confront him, it just confirms everything. You'll make it worse."
"How can it get worse?!" he shot back, his voice low and fierce. "He threatened you. On my rig. I won't stand for that. I can't." The protectiveness in his eyes almost terrified me.
"And what happens when you 'handle it'?" I pleaded, my grip tightening on his arm. "He'll get angry, he'll get loud. He'll tell everyone that you’re protecting your...your… favorite." I spat the word out. "We have to be smarter than him. We have to lay low. We just... work."
There was a sudden pain that flashed across his face. "Lay low?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a wounded whisper. "After all this? We just go back to nothing? I don’t want that."
"We won't be nothing," I said, my own heart breaking. I avoided looking at the confusion in his eyes. "We'll just be... more careful. For now. I don’t want to go back either. But we have to be smart for now. So just…go. Before someone sees you here. Don’t come tonight. Just…it’s for the best for now."
We stood there in the humming silence, Hank just outside my room, me afraid to let him in. This was the first real break between us now, and it felt like my heart was ripping apart. His natural instinct was to fight back, to shield me with his fists.
Mine was to hide us with silence. Fear was winning out again in my head.
For the first time since we jumped into the abyss together, we were on opposite sides, wondering how we were going to bridge the gap suddenly, staring at each other, unsure of what we really needed to do.
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(HANK)
It’s only been two days but I can’t take it.
Two days of silence. Two days of keeping my hands to myself. Two days of keeping my eyes off him as we work. Two days of walking past his door at night, knowing he’s lying awake in there.
It’s like trying to hold my breath again. But this time I can’t do it.
We passed in the corridor an hour ago. Just the two of us. He looked tired. I felt cracked open.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I said, the words grinding out of me. It wasn’t a question. “I can’t….”
He just shook his head, his eyes saying everything his mouth couldn’t. “No. We can’t.”
I told him to come to my cabin. Midnight. Tonight. No more waiting. The risk be damned. Fuck Dex and his stupid threats. I needed to see him. I needed to be with him.
He agreed and the relief was so overwhelming it felt like I was going to collapse. I could finally breathe again.
Then everything went wrong.
We were working together. My guard was down momentarily feeling the relief at seeing him tonight. And that’s when it snapped.
It was a high-pressure hydraulic line on the main draw works. It didn't just leak; it vaporized. One second, the deck was rumbling with its normal work. The next, a white, screaming mist of fluid filled the air, and a steel cable, released from its tension, became a deadly, whipping serpent of metal.
The alarm blared. Men shouted, scrambling back.
My brain instantly mapped the danger zones, the escape routes. It’s my job. It’s what I do.
And then I saw him. Noah. My Noah. He was closer than anyone. Frozen for a split second. Too inexperienced to realize the immediate threat. His eyes were wide, staring right into the heart of the chaos. Right in the path of the whipping snake. He didn’t know what to do.
Every rule, every precaution, every ounce of discipline I’ve ever had evaporated. There was only me, as Hank, watching Noah. And the certain, gut-wrenching knowledge that I was about to watch him be torn apart.
A sound tore from my throat I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a shout. It was a guttural roar. A sound of pure, animal terror.
“NOAH!”
I didn’t think. I launched myself across the deck. Like a missile. I slammed into him, my entire body weight behind me, wrapping my arms around him and driving us both clear of the kill zone. We hit the hard steel deck with a sickening thud, me taking the impact, my body curling around his. Protecting.
The whip-crack of the cable sliced the air where his head had been a second before.
Silence.
The emergency was contained as quickly as it began. The systems kicked in. The hazard was gone.
But the real damage was done.
The ringing in my ears was the only sound. I was on my knees, still crouched over him. My shoulder suddenly in pain from the landing. My hands gripped his arms so tight I was probably bruising him. My chest was heaving. My heart trying to beat its way out of my ribs. I could feel the fine tremor running through my body.
I looked down at him. His face was pale. His eyes were wide with shock, staring up at me. Those beautiful eyes.
And then I felt it. The weight of every single eye on the drill floor. I hadn't checked on my crew. I hadn't secured the line. I hadn't barked a single order.
I had only screamed his name.
I had thrown myself at him. And here I was, still holding him. My face was now an open book of desperate, terrified, undeniable love.
My eyes met Dex’s across the deck. There was no smirk now. Just a cold, hard understanding. He hadn't been sure before, as Noah had suspected. Now he was. Now they all were. And it was all my fault.
I didn't look away. I didn't let go of Noah. The secret was dead.
But I didn’t care.
Because Noah was safe. In my arms.
A calm washed over me. Like I was free. Again. Like I was in New York. Proud. No longer afraid.
I glanced down at Noah, whose eyes were still terrified.
“What…?” He panted, out of breath. Shocked. Scared.
But I wasn’t. Not anymore.
I just gave him a wink as I felt a smile spreading across my lips.
“Together.” I whispered.
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