Hank split the last nutrition bar with his teeth, passing half to Vito with grease-stained fingers. The morning sun turned their sweat to gold as they crouched by the freshwater pool, drinking greedily from cupped palms. Terry watched their muscles flex — Vito’s shoulders like marble in the dappled light, Hank’s forearms corded as he wiped his mouth with a smirk.
"We ought to explore the ridge first," Hank announced, nodding toward the jungle-choked slope. His calloused thumb traced the map he’d scratched into damp sand — crude but effective. "But one of us should stay to guard the shit in case any unexpected visitors turn up." His eyes flicked to the salvaged lifeboat provisions: waterlogged flares, a dented first-aid kit, three protein bars in torn foil.
Terry stretched, his back popping. "That's a good idea. I’ll play housewife." Vito’s chuckle warmed the nape of his neck before the Italian leaned down to bite his earlobe — not gently. Hank watched, thick fingers tightening around a rusted machete they’d pried from the lifeboat’s emergency kit.
Vito straightened, rolling his shoulders. "Be good," he rumbled, palming Terry’s erection. The engineer snorted, testing the machete’s weight before hacking at a vine blocking their path.
They disappeared into the emerald gloom, Vito’s broad back soon swallowed by ferns. Terry waited until their footsteps faded before turning to the scattered supplies. The heat pressed down, thick as Vito’s hands had been hours prior. He licked salt from his upper lip, watching a hermit crab investigate Hank’s discarded protein bar wrapper.
A rustle in the undergrowth spun him around. The crab scuttled away as Terry’s muscles tensed — not fear, but the gym instructor’s reflex to assess threats. The foliage parted to reveal not danger, but Hank’s sweat-streaked chest, machete dangling from one fist. "We forgot the fucking signal mirror," he grunted, bending to snatch it from the sand. Up close, Terry caught the musk of yesterday’s sex clinging to his armpits, mingling with fresh sweat.
Hank paused, nostrils flaring as he caught Terry staring. A slow grin spread beneath his beard. "Have you changed your mind about staying?" The mirror’s edge dug into Terry’s palm when Hank pressed it there — deliberate, testing.
Terry exhaled through his nose. The jungle sounds receded until all he heard was Hank’s breathing, saw the pulse jumping in his throat. "Vito said —"
"Fuck what he said." Hank crowded closer, his calloused thumb brushing Terry’s nipple. "You’re shaking." It wasn’t a question. The morning’s humidity made their skin stick where chest hair met chest hair.
Terry’s laugh came out ragged. "Just dehydrated."
Hank’s teeth flashed. He unscrewed their salvaged canteen with one hand, took a swig, then spit the warm water directly onto Terry’s collarbones. The liquid tracked down between his pecs, following the trail of dark hair. "Better?"
The mirror hit the sand as Terry grabbed Hank’s waist — right where Vito’s fingermarks still pinked the skin. Hank made a sound like a punched engine when Terry sucked his trapezius, all pretense of exploration forgotten. The machete thudded into moist earth as Hank backed him toward the lifeboat’s overturned hull, palms scraping on sun-warmed fiberglass.
Beyond the palms, a branch snapped. Neither turned. Hank’s knee slotted between Terry’s thighs as the first fat raindrops burst on their shoulders. The storm hit fast — warm as spit, loud as their moans when Terry finally got his mouth where he’d wanted it since dawn.
Hank’s cock weighed heavy on Terry’s tongue, thick and impatient. The engineer braced himself against the hull, fingers twisting in Terry’s hair not to guide, but to feel the scrape of teeth through his foreskin. Rain sluiced the salt from their skin as Terry worked him, lips stretched obscenely around each downward stroke.
"Christ, your mouth," Hank gasped, hips jerking when Terry hollowed his cheeks. The downpour plastered Hank’s chest hair dark against his skin, rivulets tracing the old scars along his ribs. Terry could taste the rain mingling with precum, could feel Hank’s balls tightening against his chin.
The hull groaned beneath them as Hank suddenly yanked Terry upright by his hair. Their cocks slapped together — hot and slick despite the rain — Hank’s calloused hand wrapping around both. Lightning flashed, illuminating the desperate twist of Hank’s wrist, the way Terry’s head fell back against fiberglass when the engineer thumbed their slits together.
Hank spat into his palm and redoubled his strokes, his biceps flexing as he worked them toward delirium. Terry’s thighs trembled, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Hank’s rain-slick shoulders. Their hips rolled in tandem, precum mixing with rainwater in lewd streaks across their bellies. The storm drowned out Hank’s growl when Terry suddenly dropped to his knees again, lapping at the engineer’s balls with broad, worshipful strokes.
Terry’s tongue traced the thick vein beneath Hank’s shaft as the engineer fisted his own cock, rainwater dripping from his foreskin onto Terry’s upturned face. Hank’s groan turned ragged when Terry swallowed him whole, throat fluttering around the intrusion. The lifeboat shuddered beneath them as Hank braced himself, thrusting shallowly into that wet heat while his free hand cupped Terry’s jaw — possessive but gentle.
Terry’s nose pressed into Hank’s thatch of pubic hair, inhaling musk and monsoon as the engineer’s rhythm faltered. Hank’s sperm hit the back of Terry’s throat in hot pulses, his thighs quaking as Terry milked him dry. The rain slackened to a drizzle as Terry rose, their mouths meeting in a messy clash of spit and stormwater. Hank’s tongue mapped Terry’s palate lazily, his hand sliding between them to finish what they’d started.
Terry came with Hank’s mouth on his shoulder — not hard enough to mark, just enough to feel the vibration through his bones. Hank’s chuckle was pure satisfaction as he wiped his palm clean on Terry’s thigh, the gesture oddly tender despite their debauchery. A fallen coconut bobbed in the newly formed puddle between their feet, ignored in favor of Hank’s lips tracing the shell of Terry’s ear.
Vito’s distant whistle sliced through the jungle’s steam. Hank smirked against Terry’s pulse point, his breath humid as the air around them. "Better clean up," he murmured, thumbing come from Terry’s abdomen. The engineer’s grin turned feral as he licked his fingers clean. "Unless you want him to know."
Terry’s laugh tangled with Hank’s as the lifeboat’s shadow stretched long across the sand — a silent witness to sins the jungle would never tell.
Vito’s footsteps cracked branches before they saw him emerge, arms laden with green coconuts and vines coiled around his biceps like living tattoos. His nostrils flared as he took in their damp skin, Hank’s smirk, the way Terry’s fingers twitched toward his softening cock.
"You guys were ... busy," Vito observed, Roman accent curling around the word like smoke. A coconut thudded at Terry’s feet, its husk split by one twist of Vito’s knife. Milky sap dribbled over Terry’s toes as Vito crouched, beard glistening with jungle sweat. "Drink."
Hank snatched a coconut, tipping it back with a throaty groan. Vito’s gaze never left Terry’s as he licked sap from his palm — slow, deliberate. The knife’s edge flashed between them, sunlight catching on steel as Vito carved another coconut.
Terry’s throat worked around the sweet liquid, eyes watering when Vito suddenly gripped his thigh. The Italian’s thumb found the bite mark Hank’s teeth had left — faint but telling. Vito’s chuckle rolled through the clearing like distant thunder.
Hank tossed his empty shell aside. "We found a cave system," he announced, wiping his mouth. "Dry. Defensible." His knuckles brushed Terry’s spine as he reached for another coconut — casual as the lie they both knew Vito already saw through.
Vito’s knife stilled. The seabird screamed again, closer now. Terry’s pulse hammered where Vito’s fingers circled his wrist, pressing into the rapid flutter there.
"Tonight," Vito decided, eyes dark as the storm clouds gathering beyond the palms. The knife sank into sand between Hank’s spread thighs. "We move."
Hank’s grin showed too many teeth. He palmed the knife’s hilt, testing its weight as raindrops began tattooing his shoulders. Terry swallowed hard when Vito’s free hand found Hank’s nape — not quite a caress, not quite a warning. The Italian’s fingers flexed. "You scout ahead," Vito murmured, thumb brushing Hank’s jugular. "Alone."
Terry’s breath hitched as Hank’s pupils dilated, his throat working beneath Vito’s grip. The engineer exhaled through his nose before inclining his head — submission or strategy, impossible to tell. Vito released him with a shove that sent Hank stumbling toward the jungle’s edge, his muscular back gleaming with fresh rain as the storm intensified again.
"Stay here," Vito commanded Terry without turning, watching Hank vanish into the green. Sand gritted beneath Terry’s knees as he obeyed, his cock half-hard from adrenaline and lingering musk. Vito finally faced him, kicking aside the coconuts to crowd between Terry’s thighs. The storm’s fat drops splattered across Vito’s collarbones, tracking through his chest hair like liquid silver.
Terry gasped when Vito hauled him up by the hair, their mouths colliding in a brutal kiss that tasted of salt and iron. The Italian’s beard scraped raw against his chin as Vito walked them backward toward the lifeboat, his free hand already working between Terry’s thighs. Thunder rolled overhead when Vito’s fingers sank inside — not teasing, just claiming.
"I thought you’d wait," Terry managed, arching as Vito’s thumb found his perineum. The Italian’s chuckle vibrated against his carotid.
Vito’s teeth closed over Terry’s pulse point. "Didn’t say when." His fingers crooked sharply, wrenching a shout from Terry’s lungs as the storm broke overhead. The lifeboat’s fiberglass groaned beneath them, rainwater sluicing down Terry’s spine as Vito flipped him effortlessly.
Terry braced his forearms against sun-warmed plastic, the scent of their prior sins rising with the steam around them. Vito’s palm landed sharp across his ass — once, twice — before spreading him wide. No prep, no warning. Just the blunt press of Vito’s cock against his hole as lightning illuminated their figures against the jungle’s edge.
Hank’s distant whistle cut through the downpour. Vito stilled, his breath hot on Terry’s shoulder blades. "Answer him," the Italian growled, nipping Terry’s earlobe. The whistle came again — two short, one long — before Terry could form words.
Vito’s thrust buried him to the hilt as Terry screamed the response into the storm. Their hips met with a wet slap, Vito’s fingers bruising Terry’s hips as the seabird’s cry echoed their ragged breaths. Somewhere beyond the palms, branches snapped under purposeful footsteps. Vito’s lips curled against Terry’s nape.
"Fast learner," he purred, snapping his hips in time with the approaching crunch of boots on wet leaves. "Let’s see if he’s watching."
Terry choked on a moan as Vito’s pace turned punishing, each withdrawal leaving him empty before slamming back in with enough force to make his knees slide on rain-slicked fiberglass. The seabird’s cry turned frenzied — closer now — but Terry barely heard it over the obscene squelch of Vito’s cock splitting him open, over and over.
Hank emerged from the foliage dripping rainwater and sweat, his machete dangling from one fist. His eyes locked onto where Terry’s fingers clawed at the lifeboat’s edge, knuckles white.
Vito didn’t slow. "Find it?" he gritted out, using Terry’s hips like handles. Hank’s nostrils flared as he stepped closer, boots sending up sprays of mud.
"Yeah." The engineer’s voice was gravel. He reached out, calloused fingers tracing the sweat-drenched valley of Terry’s spine. "Dry as a bone back there." His thumb pressed against Terry’s tailbone, pushing in tandem with Vito’s thrusts.
Terry shuddered, his cock leaking onto rain-streaked fiberglass. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the hungry gleam in Hank’s eyes as he watched Vito’s balls slap against Terry’s ass.
"Good." Vito’s rhythm stuttered, his breath coming in ragged bursts against Terry’s shoulder. "Then we —" A brutal thrust cut him off.
Hank’s chuckle was dark as the storm clouds. He dropped the machete and palmed himself through soaked shorts. "Then we what, boss?"
Vito’s hand fisted in Terry’s hair, wrenching his head back to expose his throat. His hips pistoned faster. "Then we move in tonight."
Hank’s fingers curled around Terry’s jaw, forcing his mouth open as he stepped closer. Rainwater dripped from Hank’s beard onto Terry’s tongue — salty, metallic, thick with exertion. The engineer’s cockhead bumped Terry’s lips just as Vito’s thrusts turned jagged, his rhythm fracturing into desperate snaps of his hips.
"Swallow him," Vito growled, his own release imminent in the tightening grip on Terry’s hair. Hank obliged, feeding Terry his length inch by inch until Terry’s nose pressed into coarse pubic hair. The stretch burned — Hank’s girth wider than Vito’s — but Terry hollowed his cheeks, his throat fluttering as Hank’s groan vibrated through him.
Lightning split the sky when Vito came, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside Terry with a guttural snarl. Hank’s fingers tightened in Terry’s hair, holding him still as Vito’s softening cock slipped free, followed by a hot trickle down Terry’s thigh. The engineer’s chuckle was dark with promise. "Your turn," he murmured, pulling Terry’s head back just far enough to watch his own cock disappear between Terry’s lips again.
Vito wiped his hands on Terry’s rain-slicked back, smearing sweat and come across his shoulders before gripping the lifeboat’s edge on either side of Terry’s hips. "Make him work for it," he told Hank, his breath still ragged. Hank’s grin was all teeth as he withdrew completely, leaving Terry gasping, then shoved back in with a brutal snap of his hips that punched a muffled cry from Terry’s chest.
The seabird’s shriek cut through the downpour — closer than ever — but Hank didn’t slow, his thrusts turning punishing as Terry’s jaw ached. Vito’s thumbs dug into the dimples above Terry’s ass, spreading him wider as if to better watch Hank’s cock breach Terry’s lips with each plunge.
"Gonna cum down that pretty throat," Hank warned, his voice shredded. Terry’s fingers scrabbled against wet fiberglass as Hank’s balls slapped his chin, the engineer’s rhythm stuttering. Vito’s palm landed sharp across Terry’s ass — once, twice — the sting arcing straight to Terry’s neglected cock just as Hank’s release flooded his mouth.
Hank held Terry’s head still, milking himself with shallow rolls of his hips until Terry swallowed convulsively. Only then did he step back, his cock glistening in the storm light as Terry sagged against the lifeboat, spent.
Vito grabbed Terry’s hair, yanking his head back to inspect him—lips swollen, chin slick, pupils blown wide. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest. “Good,” he muttered, releasing him with a rough pat to the cheek. The seabird, now perched on the lifeboat’s edge, let out a sharp cry, as if protesting their distraction.
Hank wiped his palms on his thighs, breathing hard. “Shelter’s not far,” he said, jerking his chin toward the dense jungle. “But we move now or we’re sleeping in the rain.” Vito grunted, hauling Terry upright by the waist. The smaller man swayed, legs trembling — whether from exhaustion or the aftershocks of stimulation, it didn’t matter. Vito’s grip tightened, fingers digging into Terry’s hipbone. “Walk,” he ordered.
The seabird took flight as they stumbled inland, its wings cutting through the storm-lit air. Hank led, hacking at vines with a salvaged piece of hull plating, while Vito half-dragged Terry behind him. The jungle swallowed them whole: leaves slapped at their shoulders, roots snagged their feet, and the scent of wet earth clung to their skin. Terry’s breath hitched when Vito’s free hand slid down to grope him, casual as a man checking his pockets.
"Almost there," Hank called over his shoulder, voice strained. Lightning flickered, illuminating the crude lean-to nestled between two towering banyan trees—a frayed tarp stretched over driftwood poles, barely enough to shield three men. Vito shoved Terry inside first, the tarp flapping violently as wind whipped through the opening. Hank barely ducked in before the deluge hit, rain drumming against the tarp like a thousand impatient fingers.
Terry collapsed onto the damp sand floor, chest heaving. Vito loomed over him, water sluicing down his furred abdomen, catching in the dense curls. Hank watched, nostrils flared, as Vito dragged Terry onto his knees by a fistful of hair. "Still useful," Vito muttered, guiding Terry's mouth toward his half-hard cock with relentless pressure. Hank exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance—fabric stretched taut across his thighs.
Thunder cracked. The tarp billowed inward, spitting rain across their backs. Terry gagged briefly before finding rhythm, tongue working the underside with practiced desperation. Vito's jaw clenched, fingers tightening. "Tighter," he demanded — voice raw, deeper than the storm's growl. Hank stepped closer, the heat radiating off him palpable.
Terry's fingers scrabbled against Vito's thighs as he took him deeper, throat fluttering. Hank gripped the tarp's edge, knuckles whitening. "Christ," he muttered, watching spit slick Terry's chin. His own cock jerked against his shorts, fabric straining.
Vito shoved deeper — once, twice — then stilled with a hissed curse as Terry choked. "Mind your teeth," he warned, thumb digging into Terry's temple. Hank exhaled sharply, palming himself through damp fabric. Lightning flashed again, throwing their shadows against the tarp — Terry's bowed head, Vito's broad shoulders, Hank's coiled tension.
The wind howled, drowning out Terry's wet gasps as Vito fucked his mouth in slow, punishing strokes. Rainwater dripped from Vito's beard onto Terry's forehead, mingling with sweat. Hank's fingers twitched. "Need help holding him?" he asked, his voice rough.
Vito's answering grin was all teeth. "Get over here."
Hank moved like a man pulled by wires, crouching behind Terry to grip his shoulders, forcing his spine into a deeper arch. The angle made Terry's jaw slacken — Vito thrust deeper, groaning as heat enveloped him. Hank's breath hitched against Terry's nape, his thumbs digging into the divots above Terry's shoulder blades. "Fuck, look at him," he muttered, watching Vito's cock disappear between Terry's swollen lips.
Terry gagged, tears streaking his cheeks as Vito set a brutal pace. His fingers clawed at Vito's thighs, blunt nails leaving pink crescents in tanned skin. Hank smirked, leaning down to bite Terry's earlobe. "Take it," he rasped, his breath hot against Terry's wet skin. The storm outside reached a fever pitch — rain hammering the tarp, wind screaming through the trees — but inside, the air was thick with salt and sweat and the musk of three bodies pushed past exhaustion.
Vito growled something in Italian, his grip twisting in Terry's hair as he pulled him impossibly closer. Hank watched, mesmerized, as Terry's throat bulged with each thrust. His own cock ached, straining against his shorts, and he couldn't resist grinding against Terry's ass, the friction maddening through damp fabric. Terry whimpered around Vito's cock, the vibration drawing a ragged groan from Vito's chest.
Suddenly, Vito yanked Terry back by the hair, his cock glistening with spit. "Turn around," he ordered, voice rough. Terry gasped for air, drool dripping down his chin as Hank swiftly maneuvered him onto his hands and knees. The sand was cool beneath Terry's palms, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off Vito as he positioned himself behind him. Hank didn't wait — he shoved his shorts down and guided Terry's mouth back onto his cock, fingers tangling in his hair.
Vito spat into his palm and slicked himself, the sound barely audible over the storm's roar. He didn't bother teasing — just pressed in with a single, brutal thrust that made Terry arch and scream around Hank's cock. Hank chuckled, tightening his grip as Vito set a punishing rhythm, each snap of his hips driving Terry forward. The lean-to trembled under the wind's assault, rain seeping through gaps in the tarp, but neither man slowed.
Terry's fingers dug trenches in the sand, his muffled moans vibrating against Hank's length. Vito leaned forward, his sweat dripping onto Terry's back as he bit the nape of his neck — marking, claiming. The salt of skin and the iron tang of blood mingled when Terry's teeth scraped Hank's thigh in reflex. Hank hissed but didn't pull away, thrusting deeper into Terry's throat as if punishing him for the sting.
The tarp above them flapped violently, a sudden gust sending a spray of rainwater across Vito's shoulders. He barely flinched, too focused on the tight heat clenching around him. One hand gripped Terry's hip hard enough to bruise while the other snaked between Terry's legs, calloused fingers finding his leaking cock. Terry whined high in his throat as Vito stroked him roughly in time with his thrusts, the conflicting sensations making his thighs quake.
Hank groaned, head tipping back as Terry's throat fluttered around him. "Fuck, he's —" The words died in a grunt when Terry's teeth grazed him again. In retaliation, Hank thrust deeper, cutting off Terry's air until his face flushed dark. Vito smirked, watching Terry's eyes roll back before loosening his grip just enough to let him breathe.
The lean-to shuddered as wind ripped at the tarp's edges, but the structure held — barely. Rainwater pooled near Terry's knees, soaking into the sand beneath him. Vito's rhythm never faltered, his hips pistoning with the same relentless force as the storm outside. Every snap forward dragged a choked sound from Terry, muffled by Hank's cock stuffing his mouth.
Hank's thighs tensed, his fingers tightening in Terry's hair as he fucked into that wet heat with short, brutal thrusts. "Gonna make you swallow it all," he grunted, voice thick. His balls drew up tight, the telltale pulse of his cock making Terry's eyes water.
Vito noticed — of course he did — and twisted his grip on Terry's leaking length, thumb pressing hard under the head. "Take it," Vito commanded, his own release building like pressure behind a dam.
Hank's hips stuttered, breath coming in sharp bursts as Terry's throat convulsed around him. Then he was coming with a ragged shout, pumping thick spurts of his sperm down Terry's gullet. Terry swallowed reflexively, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his cheeks, his body jolting with each forced gulp. Vito watched Hank's cock slide free, glistening and spent, before Terry could fully catch his breath.
That was all the warning Terry got before Vito's thrusts turned erratic, his balls slapping against Terry's ass with wet smacks. Vito's fingers tightened brutally around Terry's cock, twisting on an upstroke just as he buried himself to the hilt. Terry's scream tore through the lean-to as he came untouched, thick ropes of his seed spattering the sand beneath him. The clench of Terry's ass around his cock was Vito's undoing — he threw his head back with a guttural roar, hips jerking as he emptied his sperm inside Terry in hot, pulsing waves.
Hank exhaled sharply, watching Vito collapse forward onto Terry's back, both men trembling with exertion. Rainwater dripped from the tarp's sagging edge onto Vito's shoulder, tracing the ridges of old scars before disappearing into Terry's sweat-slicked skin. The storm still raged outside, but the wind had lost its earlier violence, settling into a steady, drenching rhythm.
Terry groaned as Vito finally slid out of him, his body limp against the damp sand. Hank reached over without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from Terry's forehead — a gesture startling in its tenderness. Vito's eyes flashed in the dim light, but he said nothing, merely pulling Terry against his chest with a possessive growl. The lean-to smelled of sex and salt and wet earth, but none of them moved to escape it.
Outside, the storm softened into a steady downpour, the drumming rain against the tarp lulling them into an exhausted haze. Hank stretched out beside them, his thigh pressed against Terry's back, skin still humming with spent energy. Vito's fingers traced idle circles on Terry's flank, the touch incongruously gentle compared to the brutality of minutes before. Terry exhaled shakily, his body thrumming between pain and a deep, satiated warmth.
The lean-to held, its flimsy structure somehow resilient against the elements, cocooning them in damp heat. Vito's breath evened out against Terry's nape, his beard rough where it brushed Terry's shoulder. Hank shifted closer, his arm draping heavily over both of them — territorial, but lacking aggression now. Terry closed his eyes, the scent of salt and sex mingling with the petrichor rising from the wet sand beneath them.
Outside, the storm had settled into a rhythmic patter, a lullaby of rain on the tarp. Vito's hand, still resting possessively on Terry's hip, twitched — not a demand this time, just the unconscious flex of a man too accustomed to control. Hank snorted in his sleep, his exhale warm against Terry's spine. The seabird, wherever it had roosted, was silent now. Only the occasional drip of rainwater through the tarp's weak spots punctuated the dark.
Terry shifted slightly, wincing as his body protested the movement. Every muscle ached — his jaw, his thighs, the tender stretch of his ass. Vito's fingers tightened reflexively, pulling him closer. The scrape of Vito's beard against his shoulder was familiar now, almost comforting in its roughness. Hank's arm, slung over them both, weighed like an anchor.
Outside, the storm's fury had dulled to a murmur. The tarp sagged under the weight of collected rainwater, but it held. Vito snorted against Terry's skin, his breathing deep and even. The scent of sweat and sex lingered. Terry let his eyes drift shut. The island wasn't so bad. Not when they filled the hollow ache inside him so completely.
Hank murmured something unintelligible, his arm tightening around them both. His knee pressed into the back of Terry's thigh, anchoring him between their larger bodies. Hunger gnawed at Terry's stomach, but it was distant. Easier to ignore than the throbbing reminders of their earlier demands. The thought of scavenging for fruit or fishing seemed absurd when he could just lie here, bracketed by their heat.
Vito exhaled against Terry's neck, his breathing deep and steady. Outside, the storm had faded to a drizzle, the occasional droplet finding its way through the tarp to trace cold lines down Terry's ribs. He shivered, pressing back into Vito's chest instinctively. The Italian responded with a sleepy growl, his palm splaying possessively over Terry's stomach. Hank's fingers twitched against Terry's hipbone, blunt nails scraping skin still sensitive from earlier bites.
Sleep claimed them unevenly — Terry first, his exhaustion dragging him under despite the dull ache in his muscles. Vito lingered in the hazy space between wakefulness and dreams, his fingers still flexing occasionally as if to confirm Terry remained within reach. Hank slept like a man accustomed to danger, his breathing shallow, his knee jammed against Terry's thigh as if ready to bolt at any moment.
The storm's remnants whispered through the jungle outside, but inside the lean-to, the air hung thick with the musk of spent desire. No one dreamed of rescue. No one mentioned the wreckage scattered along the shore, the flares they'd never fired, the radios swallowed by the sea. The island had become their world, its boundaries defined by the press of Vito's thighs against Terry's back, by the weight of Hank's arm pinning them both to the damp sand.
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