Chapter 1 A gentle wind whispered through the leaves of the Really Tall Oak Tree With the Dementedly Twisted Limb. Sunlight danced on the two men lying on the rough planks of the crudely built fort three-quarters of the way up the tree. Torn between holding and looking at each other, they’d worked themselves into a pose that allowed both. They lay with their hips pressed together, their legs intertwined, and their arms around each other. Their faces, though, were a few inches apart, their heads resting on each other’s arms so they could look while they talked, catching up on more than three months’ worth of news. “Been workin’ on the body, I see,” Shane said through his smile as he ran his hand over Thorn’s back, touching him through his shirt, a dark blue cotton button-down that Shane had bought for him the year before, when they were ‘just friends’. Shane had confessed more recently that he’d bought it because it matched the color of Thorn’s eyes. “Yeah,” Thorn said. He’d lost a great deal of weight, most disturbingly muscle mass, during his recent bout with leukemia – especially in the weeks he’d spent in a coma. Since waking in early January, he’d made it a priority to get himself in shape again. Now, in late February, he thought he’d made a pretty good start. The look of appreciation in Shane’s baby-blue eyes seemed to confirm it, though Thorn knew he still had a long way to go. They hadn’t seen each other since a few days after Thorn woke. Thorn knew he wasn’t the only one who’d suffered. Shane had lost weight in the time after Thorn got sick. His once-square face, framed by the long, golden waves of his hair, was more angular now. Thorn could feel the bones of Shane’s spine and his ribs as he rubbed his back through the black leather concoction that Shane had worn to welcome Thorn home from the hospital. Now, finally, they were together. It was Thursday afternoon, and Thorn had a long weekend before he returned to the hospital. Life was good. “Now I just gotta’ fatten you up,” Thorn said, grinning as he cupped Shane’s buttock in his hand and pulled him closer. “God, I missed your cooking.” “Whatcha want for dinner?” “I don’t care,” Shane answered with a languorous stretch. “So long as you’re there to make it.” Twenty-one-year-old Thorn was the designated cook – though Shane usually assisted by performing peeling, chopping, and assorted other duties – among the group of seven friends with whom they spent most of their time. Five of them, including Thorn and Shane, played in a bar band that called itself ‘Armageddon Lost’. The other two didn’t play in the band but did a great deal of behind-the-scenes work. Aside from being Armageddon Lost, they also referred to themselves as the Court of the Really Tall Oak Tree With the Dementedly Twisted Limb. Thorn, Shane, and Damon had first found the ancient tree one day when they were out four-wheeling. They’d been drawn to it in large part because it was as defective yet resilient as they were. The tree had become the seat of government for the seven friends, a symbol for who they were as a unit. Shane had unique claim to the Dementedly Twisted Limb, one low in the tree that shot toward the ground, swept upward, and looped back over itself, creating a cradle of sorts. When any of the others tried to invade it, the limb creaked and groaned in protest, and so they left it alone, not wanting to take a chance on marring the tree’s most unique aspect. Shane, though, could climb on the limb, bounce on the limb, do whatever he wanted on the limb, and it never made a sound. Thorn had once said that proved that Shane, at five-three, was lighter than both women in the group. Shane had first claimed it was his ninja stealth but later conceded that it was the tree’s acknowledgment that the truly dementedly twisted needed to look out for each other. The cradle was Shane’s, but the remainder of the tree was fair game for the others to climb. On that day, a huge, yellow ribbon was wrapped around the trunk of the tree. That was a custom. They’d take it off on the day when Thorn was finally, fully released from the hospital. Thorn looked up at the sky, which was beginning to show signs of dusk. “If we don’t go soon, we’ll be stuck with TV dinners.” “Just a few more minutes,” Shane whispered, snuggling his head into the place where Thorn’s neck met his shoulder. Thorn closed his eyes and held on tight, wishing he never had to let Shane go. He’d been in love with Shane for as long as he’d known him, and the feeling grew stronger with every day that passed. They’d first met when Thorn was fourteen and in high school. Back then, Shane had been twenty-one, and Thorn’s math teacher. It still amazed Thorn sometimes that he was the age now that Shane had been then. Shane had seemed so mature, so smart, so… together, to Thorn. Though Thorn had hoped to grow up to be like Shane, he knew that Shane possessed a wisdom far beyond his years. Shane had been a much better man, at twenty-one, than Thorn was now. He’d been Thorn’s protector long before he’d been his friend. Despite all that, though, some bad things had happened in Shane’s life, and for a time there’d been a reversal in their roles. Thorn had looked after Shane, seeing him through the aftermath of a vicious rape, the resulting drug dependency, and a motorcycle accident that had left him temporarily paralyzed. Shane had gotten a lot better, and somewhere along the way things had evened out. Now they just took turns looking after each other during the hard times. It was a very good thing to have each other. Shane was the best friend Thorn ever had, the most wonderful person he’d ever known. He’d never wanted to be in love with him, though. While Shane seemed comfortable with himself as a bisexual, Thorn desperately wanted to be straight. Thorn had spent the last seven years fighting his feelings for Shane. In the autumn, just before he went in the hospital, he’d entered an honest phase in his life and confessed his love. It had taken Shane longer to come clean. He hadn’t told Thorn he was in love with him until the first conversation they had after Thorn woke from his coma – but Thorn had figured it out by then. He didn’t think Shane wanted to be in love with him any more than he wanted to be in love with Shane. Because Shane had first known Thorn as a child and because he wanted Thorn to have a good life, it had been hard for him to admit his feelings. Still, his eyes had revealed them during the few quiet hours Thorn had begged Shane to give him in October, just before Thorn went into the hospital. Shane’s eyes in those pre-dawn hours had told Thorn what it would take Shane’s mouth another two-plus months to admit. As Shane pressed himself to Thorn’s body, Thorn felt the return of the hard-on that had plagued him off and on since he’d first laid eyes on Shane that afternoon. He burrowed his face into Shane’s golden hair, his mouth seeking and finding the sensitive place beneath Shane’s ear. He was rewarded by the catch of Shane’s breath and a tremor that coursed through Shane’s body. Thorn tasted Shane, breathed his scent, and pulled him closer. “I need…” The tortured words escaped before he could stop them, but he managed not to say more. After so long apart, he didn’t want Shane to think he wanted his body more than the rest of him. But, God, Thorn ached for him. “I know,” Shane whispered, grinding his hips into Thorn’s. Now it was Thorn’s breath that caught. He’d avoided kissing Shane all afternoon because he’d feared it would be his undoing. He couldn’t wait any longer. He caught Shane’s silver-painted lips with his own and gave Shane a series of tiny kisses, resisting the urge to immediately plunge his tongue into Shane’s mouth. He wanted to devour him, but Shane was skittish about physical things and so Thorn forced himself to go slowly. He ran his tongue over Shane’s trembling lips before he used it to gently pry them apart. By the time he coaxed Shane’s mouth into opening for him, they were both trembling. The tips of their tongues played for long minutes before Thorn’s tongue wrapped around Shane’s – and encountered something he hadn’t expected. He drew back, his eyes dancing. “You got a tongue ring!” He put his hand to Shane’s chin and pulled downward. “Lemme see.” Slowly, teasingly, Shane extended his tongue. Thorn smiled at the sight of Shane’s new jewelry. When they’d first met, Shane had a tongue ring. His tongue still bore the scar from where it had been torn from his mouth on the night he was raped. Thorn was glad to see the jewelry there. It, like the leather Shane wore and the make-up on his eyes and lips, was a sign that he was feeling more like his old self. Thorn was fairly certain that Shane had gotten that for him. He nibbled his way up Shane’s tongue, reclaiming it. Thorn ran his hands over Shane’s body, every touch confirming that it was finally real. Shane clutched at Thorn’s back, as if trying to pull Thorn into his skin with him. Thorn rubbed his palm over the leather that lay just over the jewelry he felt at Shane’s right nipple. That was new, too. Thorn had first felt it during Shane’s Thanksgiving visit to the hospital. “And what are you wearing here?” Thorn asked. “I’ll show you later,” Shane whispered. Thorn smiled, running his palm over Shane’s nipple, teasing him through his shirt. “Show me now,” he whispered, raising his hand to the zipper at Shane’s throat. He kissed Shane while he lowered the zipper, but monitored him for signs that he was uncomfortable with what Thorn was doing. When he reached Shane’s navel, he smiled at the feeling of metal there, too. He pulled his mouth from Shane’s long enough to watch his hand as it moved over Shane’s chest and abdomen. His eyes danced when he saw Shane’s new tattoo. The word ‘BAD’ appeared across his bare chest, a tattoo done in shades of black and silver, an intricate working of guns and vines, swords and leaves, daggers and roses. The last time he’d seen Shane’s chest, it had borne the word ‘FAG’, carved there by a man who didn’t like people like Shane. Thorn smiled. It was very Shane-like to take something horrible and turn it into something beautiful. “You are bad, Shamus,” he said, using a name he’d once given Shane as a joke, but which had since become more a term of endearment. “Yeah,” Shane said, crinkling his nose. Thorn loved Shane’s little nose, with its sprinkling of freckles across the top. As his hand continued its exploration, moving the leather aside so he could look at Shane, he found a second tattoo, a silver rose on Shane’s shoulder that camouflaged the bullet wound that had been put there in the same attack as the knife wounds. Shane wore the phoenix-and-fire nipple shields Thorn had once given him, with the chain between them. Shane’s smooth chest was still well-defined; clearly, he’d been working out, even if he didn’t always take the time to eat right. Thorn played with the chain, loving Shane’s responses. First it was only Shane’s expressions, but then he made a sound that made Thorn’s heart race. Thorn slid his hand downward to Shane’s navel, playing with the jewelry there, and let his mouth explore Shane’s chest and its tattoo and jewelry. “I don’t suppose there’s any more below this?” he asked as his finger tugged at the navel ring. “Funny you should ask,” Shane said through panting breaths. “You’re kidding,” Thorn said. He’d been kidding. “Prob’ly.” Shane’s eyes were teasing. Thorn knew he’d have to wait for that answer – but he looked forward to the discovery. He didn’t want to push Shane to go too far, too fast, and so he concentrated his attentions on Shane’s torso. Shane unbuttoned Thorn’s shirt to return the favor. His mouth and hands wrought havoc with Thorn’s senses, raised his desire to a fever pitch. Thorn’s hands clutched Shane’s backside, pulling him tightly to him. Shane moved their shirts aside, pressing their bare chests together. Thorn rolled Shane onto his back and pressed his hardness to Shane’s, moving against him in undulating waves that started gently but built in intensity. Shane wrapped his legs around Thorn’s hips. Thorn fought the need to come, waiting for Shane. Though Shane had once said his body wasn’t capable of ejaculation, he did know orgasm, and Thorn didn’t want to go there without him. Thorn held out until he felt the tightening of Shane’s legs around him. They came together in shuddering waves. “I love you.” They groaned the words into each other’s mouths between kisses. Thorn finally collapsed onto Shane, spent. He could feel Shane’s heart pounding against his chest. They lay still and quiet. Shane could have stayed there forever, except that Thorn began trembling as the evening got colder. The day had been unseasonably warm, but it didn’t feel like the night would be. “Let’s go, Thorn,” Shane said, patting his shoulder. “Your house?” Shane smiled. He wanted to take Thorn home to his white farmhouse, but he knew the only reason Thorn had been released was because his doctors were counting on Armageddon Lost member Rod, who was a certified physician’s assistant, to look after him. “We better go to Fawn and Gary’s.” Thorn laughed. “Rod might not let us in.” Rod, though only in his early thirties, was the father figure in Thorn’s life. He also had a bit of a mother duck thing going, and got in the way of a lot of things that Thorn might otherwise have gotten into. He hadn’t want Thorn and Shane to leave earlier. Shane hadn’t left him much choice in the matter. Shane was little, but he had a black belt and was faster than anybody Thorn had ever seen. He’d knocked the fight out of Rod long enough for the two of them to make their escape. Thorn knew Rod, as well as the other members of Armageddon Lost, were at Fawn and Gary’s house waiting for their return. He breathed a beleaguered sigh and rolled upward. They got their shirts situated and climbed down the tree. Thorn went first so he could watch Shane’s butt as he made his way down. Once they were on the ground, Thorn caught Shane in his arms. He turned him, pulling Shane’s back to his front. He wrapped his right arm around him and grasped Shane’s left hand with his own. On those hands, they wore matching rings that weren’t really supposed to mean anything, but which meant a great deal to Thorn. He pulled Shane close. “You were the last thing I saw, when I slept… and the first thing I saw when I woke up.” Shane swallowed. “I thought about you every minute.” Thorn pressed Shane’s hand to the tree with his own over it. “What are you doing?” Shane asked through his smile. “Seekin’ the Oak Tree’s blessing, about us.” Shane half-suspected he might be serious. “What if it says ‘no’?” “Then we’re gonna cut it down in the morning,” Thorn answered, laughing. He turned Shane in his arms. “It said ‘yes’.” Shane smiled. “My favorite word.” “Oh, God, I hope so.” Thorn covered Shane’s mouth with his own. They walked hand in hand to Shane’s black, silver and purple Harley and pulled on their helmets. After one last kiss, they were on their way.
An
Ivey Banks
Excerpt