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“We’ve checked here before. It’s like we’re walking in circles at this point.”
Patrick’s sigh cut off abruptly, swallowed by the empty room. Both men stood still for a few moments. Every room in this god awful facility looked the same now. Peeling walls, half-empty cabinets, and med-kits were bone dry. Their rigs beeped a warning every few seconds, batteries minutes away from death.
Patrick pushed a trembling hand through sweat-soaked hair. The adrenaline that had carried him earlier was long gone.
“I know, Nate. But stopping isn’t an option. There are cameras everywhere and, like, three fucking psychos on every corner-”
“You’re going to get us killed if you don’t slow down.” Nate braced a hand on the wall, grimacing. “Stop pushing us; stop pushing me so hard. I’m hurt, Patrick.”
Patrick flinched. Nate didn’t have to say it- of course, it was his fault. He was supposed to hold the jammer steady. He thought he had.
He slipped.
Nate walked right into the electric trap because Patrick’s hand shook at the wrong moment. The evidence box Nate held had burst open, and their med supplies had gone with him. Patrick cracked the stairwell door to check the hallway, then returned to where Nate sat. He crouched, hesitating, then placed their last roll of bandages beside him.
“Fine. You stay here. I’ll find the last box we need. Lock the door after I leave. I’ll knock when I’m back.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He couldn’t.
He had to make up for everything.
By the time Patrick reached the stairwell again, blood streamed freely down the side of his face. His right eye was completely swollen shut, and two fingers on his left hand were bent in ways fingers shouldn’t be. But the final evidence box was tucked under his arm. He just had to get past Coyle.
“Pain goes in this end, and truth comes out the other…”
Electricity crackled through the air. Patrick pressed himself into a dark corner, covering his mouth to steady his breathing. The box sat at his feet. He just had to wait for the right time-
“Found ya!”
Patrick reacted on instinct, slamming an elbow back into the ex-officer’s face. He scrambled for the box and ran, vision blurring, lungs begging for breath. The door, Nate’s door, was just ahead. Coyle grabbed him inches from safety, dragging him back and slamming him into the wall. Patrick’s world spun. A knee pinned his chest, a burst of electricity lit up his ribs, and his scream died in his throat.
“Think it’s funny, huh? Running from the law?”
A hand closed around Patrick’s throat. His airway vanished. Nate flashed through his mind; Nate limping, Nate bleeding, Nate alone behind that door… Nate, who deserved to leave this place alive. Nate, who deserved to LIVE. Panic filled him, his hips bucking up to try to get the man off of him. The ex officer let out a moan above him, grabbing his baton to harshly shock the inside of his own thigh. Patrick felt bile fill his throat as Coyle rocked his hips, getting off on killing the man below him.
Patrick clawed at the ground, fingers brushing something solid.
A brick.
He swung.
Coyle fell sideways with a grunt. Patrick kicked him hard, grabbed the box, and staggered for the door. He knocked desperately. “-ate! The door-! Open-!”
The door flew open. Nate yanked him inside and locked it quickly behind him. The adrenaline surged through him, and Patrick couldn’t stay upright. He crumpled to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Nate’s hands lifted the evidence box from his fingers, then cupped Patrick’s jaw, gently brushing his thumb along the bruises beginning to form. Patrick’s breath hitched. He leaned into Nate’s chest without thinking, clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
“Sshh…” Nate murmured. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. You were right. I’m okay. I could’ve gone with you- hey, hey, look at me.”
Patrick sagged against Nate, his whole body trembling from the shock and panic clawing at his throat. Nate held him firmly, one arm around his back, the other steadying him as if Patrick might fall apart.
“Look at me,” Nate whispered.
Patrick lifted his gaze. Nate’s breath hitched at the sight of him; bloodied, bruised, terrified and still trying to make things right.
“I almost lost you out there,” Nate said, voice low and rough. “I was angry because I was scared… Patrick, I can’t watch you try to do everything alone. It’s okay to slow down.”
Patrick swallowed hard. “I- I didn’t want to mess up again.”
“You didn’t.” Nate cupped Patrick’s face with both hands now, lifting it gently. “You came back. You always come back to me. Let me help you sometimes, baby. You don’t have to put the world on your shoulders.”
Patrick’s breath shook, and something in Nate snapped- the part of him that had been worried since the moment Patrick walked out that door.
He kissed him.
Not soft. Not sweet.
A hard, desperate clash of their lips.
It felt as though time stood still for them, a small moment of reprise within this shitty hellhole they found themselves trapped within. If they were to separate, the world would end, and the universe would collapse upon itself.
Patrick gasped into their mouths, the pain from his jaw pulsating harshly. His fingers curled tight in the other’s shirt as he pulled Nate closer. The older male pressed him back against the wall, careful of his injuries. His thumb stroked along Patrick’s jaw as their mouths moved frantically, sloppily, hungrily. Patrick moaned softly and kissed back with the same intensity. The younger’s uninjured hand slid around Nate’s neck, pulling him in even closer. Nate groaned softly into his mouth, the sound vibrating against Patrick’s bruised throat.
They didn’t stop until the alarm blared in warning- only a few minutes left to exit the trial.
When they finally parted, Nate kept their foreheads pressed together, his fingers still tangled in Patrick’s hair. Patrick himself was a mess- his chest rose and fell harshly; his good eye was blown wide, pupils dark with adrenaline and lust. Nate’s thumb brushed the edge of his injured jaw again, gentle this time, almost apologetic.
“You okay?” Nate whispered.
Patrick nodded once.
Before grabbing Nate’s shirt again and yanking him forward.
The second kiss slammed into Nate before he could react. Patrick’s mouth met his with raw urgency. Nate’s surprised sound vibrated against his lips, and Patrick drank it in, pushing them both back from the wall. Nate steadied him with hands on his waist, but Patrick didn’t stop; he pushed Nate forward again, lips crashing, teeth catching on their older’s bottom lip just enough to make Nate’s breath hitch. The shaking running through Patrick’s body wasn’t fear anymore; it was need, it was lust, it was-
Love.
Nate broke the kiss, panting. “Patrick- hey, hey, easy-,”
Patrick cut him off with another kiss, slower this time; he poured every second of missing Nate into the way he moved against him. His thumb brushed Nate’s waist, a whine leaving him.
“Don’t stop,” Patrick whispered into Nate’s lips, breath hot. “Not now. I…I need you… right here.” Patrick’s good hand grabbed Nate’s clumsily, dragging it under his blood-stained shirt. Nate’s fingers spread over the warm surface of Patrick’s skin, the younger male’s eyes pleading down at him.
Nate’s resolve snapped clean in two.
Their mouths moved together in messy, urgent rhythm. Their legs slid between each other’s thighs, a desperate grind of the hips being their only relief. By the time they finally separated again, both of them were breathless, foreheads pressed together, lips swollen, hearts pounding loudly in their ears. Patrick looked down between them, huffing out a small chuckle at the sight of them straining in their jeans.
“You really did miss me.”
Nate playfully shoved the younger male before leaning in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. He tiredly grabbed the last evidence box and limped towards the door that led to the exit. His free hand slipped softly between Patrick’s fingers as the alarms rang loudly in the distance.