Brought Down

31. Threads and Needles

Julian

I'm absorbed in a book when the knock on the door comes.

"Yes?" I put the book aside.

"It's me."

Garrett. I get up, then pause. If I hurry too much, it could give him wrong ideas. Spending days and nights alone does kind of make me look forward to his occasional visits, but there's no need to let him know that.

Not that I'm not allowed to go outside, but the animosity I sense from every person I meet takes all the fun out of it. I have accompanied Garrett to their dining hall a few times, but now that their food supplies are dwindling, and they are forced to eat artificial food, I better not show my face out there.

Garret's voice comes again. "Just how long could it take for you to reach the door?"

I snicker, then turn the key and let him in.

He's wearing jeans and a dark green shirt, the kind that most miners here wear. It sits well on him, the fabric hugging his muscular chest and arms. My eyes linger on his torso for perhaps a second too long. Damn, this solitary confinement sure makes me crave for all kinds of human contact.

I lock the door and saunter back to my bed.

"So?" I sit down and pick my book again, to not look too interested. "How was your day?"

He shrugs. "Another day without a nuke on my head, so I'd say perfect."

"I'm sure the miners just love me now. Almost a month with no nukes and no work, all thanks to me."

"And no proper food. They'd lynch you if they could, you know."

"That's why I keep to my cozy little bungalow." I gesture around, then point at his lap where he holds something that looks like a folded coat. "What's this?"

"It's my new jacket." He moves to sit next to me and unrolls the shabby garment. "Not so new, as you can see, but that's all they could find for my size. It has a tear on the sleeve, and you've mentioned once that you took sewing lessons, so I thought perhaps you could fix it for me."

"What?" I gape at the jacket, then raise my eyes to his face, only to find him laughing breathlessly at my expression.

"I was curious how you'd react," he says, still laughing. "Boy, that was good. Never mind." He starts rolling the jacket into a bundle again. "But since you've destroyed my previous coat, you could cooperate a bit, you know."

"Ask Angie for help."

"Angie doesn't speak to me, as you well know." He pauses. "Which, by the way, is also your fault."

"Yeah, right, everything is my fault." I contemplate the jacket. A new activity may not be such a bad idea, given how bored I am. "I could try, I guess, but I don't have a needle or a --"

"I came prepared." He retrieves a little box from his pocket and throws it in my lap. Then he moves closer and shows me the damaged sleeve. "From here to here, okay? And here's a shabby place, too, on the other side --"

He's sitting so close his shoulder keeps brushing against mine, and I find myself paying more attention to this casual contact than to his words. His hands rub the fabric of the old jacket, and I find myself imagining how they would feel on my skin.

I shake my head. What the hell? Too long an abstinence, I guess. Even if Garrett is the closest thing to a friend I have here, it's pathetic to have such thoughts. Especially given that he has rejected me once already.

"I'll see what I can do." I begin to rummage through the little box.

"Good." He watches my manipulations as I insert a black thread into the needle's eye. I spread the jacket's sleeve on my knee and evaluate it.

"You actually know how to do it?"

"You mean, the secret art of sewing? Sure." I look at him and, once again, his proximity throws me off balance. His blue eyes watch me seriously, his face just inches from mine. I try to smile to dispel the mood but can't quite manage it. Why does he have to sit so close?

"Julian," he says, and then his lips are suddenly on mine.

"Mmm...what?" I draw back. "Wait..."

He leans forward as I move away instinctively until I half lay on the bed and he's looming over me, his hands on the mattress to the sides of my head, his eyes fixed on mine. His jacket is still between us, the needle still in my hand. I point it at him.

"I have a needle and I'll use it."

He raises one hand in a mock surrender. "I thought you were in."

"I thought you were not. What about 'I have a girlfriend', 'I don't fuck with men'?"

"Well, I clearly don't have a girlfriend anymore," he says, "and as for men..." He frowns and then, suddenly, his hand dives under my shirt and travels along my abdomen up to my chest. I breathe in sharply at his rough touch. His fingers pause on my nipple, rub it gently, forcing a gasp from me. A crooked smile replaces his frown. "You're a man all right. And yet ..." His hand pauses. "I can't get you out of my head," he says, and then just looks at me, waiting.

"Go on." It comes out needier than I intended, but who cares. "Touch me."

My hand with the needle searches for the little box, but Garrett moves, and the box rolls to the floor, spilling its contents. I flick the needle blindly away and throw my hands around his neck. His lips find mine again, his weight pressing me into the mattress. He shifts a little to the side, and his hands travel under my shirt and end up on my back, pulling me closer.

"Fuck," he mutters into the kiss. "Fuck."

"Good idea," I whisper, and he smiles against my lips.

My hands move down to his jeans and undo the buttons. He tenses, but then his hard dick prods at my stomach, and I know that at least his body has no doubts. I spit on my palm, then grab his dick and rub it, fast. He groans and buries his face between my shoulder and my neck, his hot breath burning my skin. I wish he would touch me, too, but even though his hands travel all around me, hugging, rubbing and groping, they deliberately avoid my erection. Perhaps this is still off limits for him, but I'm turned on enough to not really care.

Keeping the rhythm of the strokes with one hand, I tend to my own erection with the other. I increase the rhythm, my both hands moving in unison, our ragged breaths mixing together, and it doesn't take long to push both of us over the edge.

He groans next to my ear, and hot liquid fills my palm. I follow close, my own relief forcing a half moan, half whimper out of me. Damn, I so needed this.

He moves and lies by my side, panting.

"Don't freak out over this," I warn him.

"I won't." He looks at me askew, then leans over and plants a soft kiss on my lips.

Then comes a loud knock on the door.

We jump into a sitting position. Before he can say anything, I press my palm to his mouth, and only then realize it's still smeared with my cum. Judging by his shocked expression, he's realized it, too. I remove my hand and he wipes his mouth with such a confused expression that I start giggling uncontrollably.

The knock on the door comes again, more urgent this time.

"Yes?" I call out in between giggles.

"General Rykar calls a meeting," a voice says. "A communique was received from the royal forces. They want to negotiate."

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