The soft hiss of air brakes woke D from a light, uneasy sleep.

He blinked his eyes open and sat up slightly, careful not to jostle Joey, who was still curled up against his side. The dim cabin lights overhead glowed yellow-orange, casting sleepy halos over the heads of the other passengers. Through the window, D saw a worn, flickering sign: RESTON TRAVEL CENTER.

They'd reached the changeover stop.

Joey stirred against him with a groan, rubbing his eyes and scrunching his face like a little kid. “Ugh… my h-head,” he mumbled, still thick with sleep. He pressed a hand to his temple, wincing.

“Yeah, no shit,” D muttered, brushing Joey’s hair back. “Told you three beers was too many.”

Joey peeked up at him and pouted. “I f-feel like there’s a d-drum p-pounding in my skull.”

“And you’re hungry,” D guessed, right as Joey’s stomach let out a pitiful growl.

Joey nodded sheepishly.

D huffed a quiet laugh and nudged him toward the aisle. “Come on, lightweight. Let’s find you some food.”

The travel center was washed in garish fluorescent light, its high ceilings echoing with the faint hum of vending machines and the wet squeak of mops on tile. Most of the passengers from the bus drifted toward the restrooms or the little café tucked behind a row of dusty souvenir shelves. D guided Joey toward the smell of hot food and coffee, his hand lingering lightly at the small of the boy’s back.

They stopped at a warming rack under a heat lamp and grabbed two foil-wrapped sandwiches from the pile. Joey also picked out a chocolate milk while D went for bottled water and a bitter cup of black coffee.

They found a booth near the window, under a crooked neon EXIT sign that buzzed and flickered softly. Joey slumped down on the bench, tired and pale, but still trying to rally as he tore into the sandwich.

The moment he peeled the foil back and spotted a thick line of cranberry sauce soaking into the bread, his nose wrinkled in horror. “Ugh. N-nooo. Not this stuff…”

D raised an eyebrow from across the table, already taking a sip of coffee. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s g-got cranberries,” Joey muttered, pushing it away like it had personally offended him. “I didn’t know. They all looked the same and… y-you know.”

D picked up the sandwich and squinted at the tiny, barely legible label stuck to the side. “Turkey and cranberry on rye. Yeah, that’s a rough pick.”

Joey shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t tell. I j-just grabbed one.”

D sighed and slid his own across the table. “Ham and cheddar. You’ll like it.”

Joey’s eyes lit up. “Really? Y-you sure?”

“Yeah, go on.” D leaned his elbows on the table, watching as Joey eagerly bit into the new sandwich and made a happy little noise of relief.

“This one’s p-perfect,” Joey mumbled, already halfway through his first bite. “I s-swear this happens all the time. “Got diet pop by a-accident a couple weeks ago. Thought it was r-regular. Nearly spit it out.” He took another bite, frowning. “And one t-time, at the corner store, I got p-peppermint ice cream thinking it was strawberry, ‘cause it was red a-and I got confused.”

D frowned a little, quietly tucking that away. “You really couldn’t tell?”

“N-not till I licked it,” Joey said with a soft laugh. “Worst surprise of my life. I was so mad.”

D chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sipped his coffee and studied Joey’s face, a wave of quiet sympathy moving through him. “We gotta keep practicing,” he said gently. “You’re gonna get better. I promise.”

Joey looked up, cheeks already pink from chewing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we should do it more regular. Like tonight. When we get back on the bus.” D kept his voice casual, testing the waters.

Joey hesitated for half a second, then gave a little nod. “O-okay. I’ll try.”

D reached across the table and brushed his thumb over Joey’s knuckles. “That’s all I ask.”

Joey smiled, small and genuine, then kept eating.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the table and both of them looked up.

“Evenin’, boys. Mind if I sit with y’all?”

It was the older woman from the bus—the one in the church dress. She was balancing a tray of food in one hand, the other gripping a thick hardcover book tucked under her arm. She’d taken off her heels and wore fuzzy purple slippers now and her braided hair was wrapped up in a colorful scarf. Her dress was still pristine, though, pressed and smooth like she’d just stepped out of Sunday service.

Her smile was warm, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Not at all,” D said, gesturing to the bench across from them. “Still on the same route?”

“‘Fraid so,” she said with a huff as she sat down. “These old bones hate stopping once they get moving.”

Joey grinned sleepily at her. “Y-you look comfy though.”

“Oh, bless you,” the woman said, patting her slippers. “These are my travel shoes. Only come out on long trips. Feet are barkin’ tonight. That bus floor don’t got no mercy for old knees.” She smiled warmly at Joey, who straightened up a little, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “You were clean asleep back there, sugar. Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Oh, n-no, you didn’t.” Joey blinked, still a little dazed. “I—uh, sorry. I hope I d-didn’t… drool or anything.”

D chuckled and reached out, gently smoothing a piece of Joey’s hair back. “You didn’t. Just dropped your bag of candy straight away when you zonked out.”

“W-wait, what?!” Joey gasped, sitting up fast.

“Don’t worry. I saved it,” D said, grinning as Joey squirmed with anxiety. “Relax. It’s tucked in your seat back on the bus.”

“Ooooh, I h-hope it’s still there w-when we get back,” Joey moaned.

“Nobody’s going to steal a half-eaten bag of sour Skittles, sweetheart,” D said softly. “It’ll be fine.”

The woman smiled softly, eyes kind as she set down her silverware and looked between them. “You boys are somethin’ else. Y’all got me missin’ my husband, Lord rest him.”

Joey blushed hard at that, trying to hide behind his chocolate milk and D and the woman shared a laugh at his adorable reaction. For a moment, the table filled with the comforting sounds of crinkling wrappers and sipping drinks.

“I never got your names,” the woman said suddenly. “I’m Odessa, by the way.”

“They call me D,” D said. “And this is Joey.”

“Nice to meet you proper,” she smiled. “You boys going far?”

D kept it vague. “South Carolina. Got some family down there. Uncle.” He let it hang for a second. Then, after a sip of coffee, he added, “Figured it’s time I started trying to reconnect with people. Joey’s been real patient with me.”

Joey glanced at him curiously, eyebrows raised, his green eyes wide and bright despite how tired he looked.

“Well, that’s nice. It’s good to stay in touch with family,” Odessa said then turned to Joey. “I was just tellin’ your man back on the bus, I’m headed to Kingstree. My sister’s there. She’s got cancer, bless her. They’re doin’ surgery next week. So this ain’t really a visit—it’s the start of me takin’ care of her a while.”

Joey sobered a little. “That’s r-really sweet of you. I’m s-sorry about your sister.”

“Thank you, baby. We’re hopin’ for the best.”

D looked at the woman for a moment, again struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. “Yeah. I’m sorry to hear that,” he added sincerely, setting his coffee down. “My mom had cancer, too. Same deal. She… didn’t make it.”

“Oh honey,” Odessa murmured, reaching instinctively across the table to pat his hand. “That’s hard.”

D nodded. “Yeah. But… she was a good woman. Strong. You kind of remind me of her, actually.”

“Oh really?” Odessa smiled, clearly flattered.

“Yeah. That dress? My mom had one almost just like it. Wore it every Easter. Dragged us all to church every year, too—me and my brothers, my little sister. She didn’t take no for an answer either.”

Joey’s expression turned soft and fascinated, like he was listening to a story he never wanted to end. D felt himself continuing without even meaning to.

“My brothers hated dressing up,” he murmured, chuckling quietly at the memory. “Tried every excuse to get out of it. But me? I didn’t mind. Put on the tie, combed my hair. My sister—Amira—she loved church. Loved the outfits. Bows in her hair. Ribbons on her shoes. Had to be the princess of the pews.”

Odessa laughed. “That’s girls for you.”

D smiled down at the table, lost for a moment. “She’s the only one I’ve got left, really. My oldest brother, Marcus, he got shot. Dumb street shit. My other brother—Kendrick—he’s doing time. Been in for a while. I try to visit him twice a year, though. Christmas and his birthday.”

Joey’s lips parted slightly, surprised. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah,” D murmured. “He’s not perfect. Hell, none of us are. But… he’s still my brother.”

Joey looked down at the table, visibly moved. He shifted closer and slid his hand onto D’s thigh under the table, giving it a soft squeeze.

D glanced at him and gave the tiniest smile. “My sister, though, Amira. She was different,” he said after a moment. “She was the youngest. Smart, real smart. Got scholarships, made it to Ohio State. She broke ties with the rest of us when she left. I think she had to, to survive. Can’t say I blame her.”

Joey touched his arm. “Y-you miss her?”

“Every damn day.”

“Why don’t you t-try to find her?” Joey asked quietly. “I mean… m-maybe she’s on Facebook.”

Odessa laughed warmly. “Shoot, even I’m on Facebook. My granddaughter set it up for me so I could find my old classmates, cousins I forgot I had... You should look, honey. Might do you good.”

D leaned back against the booth, thoughtful. Joey rested his head lightly against his shoulder, and D instinctively put an arm around him. Their food forgotten for now.

“I might,” he said. “After we settle things.”

Odessa saw the meaningful look Joey threw in D’s direction, but she didn’t pry. She just gave them both a once-over, smiling with something like knowing affection.

“Well,” she said, “I think that’d be real nice. Reconnecting. Starting fresh.” She winked at Joey. “This one here’s got a big heart. I can tell.”

Joey lit up at the compliment, leaning closer to D with a happy little hum.

D kissed his hair, right above the ear. “He really does. That’s why I love him so much.”

Odessa smiled fondly, leaning back as she sipped from a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee. “Mmm. I like that. Young love and fresh starts. Got me all sentimental.”

Joey blushed again, but he didn’t look away this time. He just leaned a little more into D’s side, his cheek brushing the soft fabric of D’s flannel.

“And I mean it about Facebook,” Odessa continued, digging in her purse. “You’d be amazed what people are posting. I saw a video this morning—cat sittin’ in a bowl of spaghetti, like a whole dinner plate full, just starin’ dead into the camera like it knew it wasn’t supposed to be there.” She shook her head, laughing. “Little thing looked guilty.”

Joey suddenly perked up. “O-oh my god! I s-saw that one! Was it the orange cat with the g-googly eyes?”

“That’s the one!” Odessa grinned. “He was just sittin’ there like, ‘Don’t you dare take this plate away, Debra.’ I couldn’t stop watchin’.”

Joey laughed, wide and delighted. “I w-watched it, like… t-three times. The look on its f-face—oh my god—like he knew he was gonna g-get in trouble but he didn’t care.”

D couldn’t help it. He let out a low, warm chuckle and shook his head. “You two are ridiculous. Viral videos?”

“I take that as a compliment,” Odessa said proudly. “Laughin’s good for the soul. Especially on long nights.”

“I got a million of those v-videos saved,” Joey said, suddenly animated. “There’s one with a r-raccoon stealing a whole loaf of b-bread outta somebody’s garage. Just… waddles away like a l-little thief.”

“And don’t forget that one with the goat yellin’ like a human,” Odessa added. “Scared the hell outta me.”

They all laughed at that—Joey wheezing, Odessa covering her mouth, D just shaking his head with a real smile blooming at the corner of his mouth.

It felt… good. Safe. Like maybe, just maybe, they were allowed to have this.

Then the overhead intercom buzzed softly, followed by a garbled announcement: “Route 6, southbound, now boarding at Gate B. Repeat, Gate B.”

Odessa groaned and stood slowly, gathering her tray and her book with practiced effort. “Time to load up again. Always too short a stop.”

Joey stood too, reluctantly, stretching his arms above his head with a little whine.

“Thank you for sitting with us,” D said quietly, offering Odessa a respectful nod.

She smiled back, her eyes warm and bright. “Thank you for the company. You two make a good pair. Don’t let nothin’ ruin that, you hear me?”

D caught Joey’s eyes with a teasing smile. “We won’t.”

“You boys heading all the way down south?” Odessa asked.

“Yeah,” D said, his voice quiet. “Charleston.”

“Well, I’ll be on with you a good while longer, then,” Odessa said brightly. “I get off just an hour shy of Charleston. Still got some miles to go.” She tapped the spine of her book, then tucked it into her purse. “Finished this just now, too. So I figure it’s time I grab a little shuteye before my stop.”

Joey smiled at her warmly. “G-good idea.”

Odessa fussily smoothed her dress. “Well, you boys better get back on and stake your seats again before someone snags ‘em.” She winked at Joey. “Especially with that bag of candy waitin’ for you.”

Joey gasped softly as if suddenly remembering. “Oh m-my god, yes. My Skittles.”

D laughed and stood with him, gently adjusting Joey’s oversized shirt. “We’ll see you on board.”

“Sweet dreams, O-Odessa,” Joey added sweetly.

“Same to you, baby,” she said, giving a little wave. “Y’all get settled. I’m nappin’ till Kingstree.”

As they stepped out into the night again, D slipped his hand into Joey’s and gave it a squeeze. They didn’t need to say much.

Back on the bus, the lights were dim again, casting everything in a sleepy amber haze. Odessa made her way to a new seat near the middle, already pulling an eye mask from her purse. D and Joey returned to their spot in the back, where the bag of Skittles still waited faithfully on the seat.

Joey grabbed his candy then flopped into the window seat with a relieved sigh. “She’s r-really nice.”

“She is,” D murmured, watching Joey settle in. “Like someone’s guardian angel riding Greyhound.”

Joey smiled sleepily and curled up against D’s side. “G-gotta finish these Skittles before our stop.”

D chuckled and wrapped an arm around him. “We’ve got time. Besides we should do that reading lesson we talked about. Don’t fall asleep just yet.”

Joey groaned softly, burying his face in D’s shoulder like a cat trying to burrow into a warm spot. “N-n-now?” he whined, muffled. “C-can’t we wait till t-tomorrow or… or n-never?”

D smirked and gently peeled the bag of sour Skittles from Joey’s limp fingers. “Nope. You promised.” He held the bag up and shook it playfully. “I’m officially using these as bribery now.”

Joey peeked out at him through one eye, suspicious. “B-bribery?”

“Yep,” D said smugly, tucking the candy between them on the seat. “One Skittle for every word you read right.”

Joey sat up slowly, scowling, but clearly intrigued. “That’s c-cruel.”

“That’s motivation,” D corrected. “Now come on. Sit up.”

With a reluctant sigh and dramatic flop, Joey straightened himself in the seat, legs crisscrossed, sleeves tugged low over his hands. D reached into the seat-back pocket in front of them and pulled out a glossy travel pamphlet advertising coastal tours and rates.

He flipped it open and pointed to a bold word printed near the top. “Alright, what’s this one?”

Joey squinted at it. “Buh… suh… buh… I d-dunno. I c-can’t—”

“Slow down,” D said gently, adjusting in his seat so he could angle the pamphlet toward both of them. “Remember what we did the other night at the chicken joint? Sounds first. Start with the first letter. What sound does B make?”

Joey paused. “Buh.”

“Good. Next letter is U. What sound does U make?”

Joey frowned. “Uhh… like… ‘uh’?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes it’s ‘oo.’ Like ‘blue.’ Or ‘uh’ like ‘mud.’ Try the second one.”

“Buh…uh… sss?”

D nodded. “Put it together.”

Joey’s eyebrows pinched as he tried again. “Buh…uh…sss. B…us?”

“Bus,” D said gently, smiling. “You got it.”

Joey blinked. “Oh. Oh! I-I did it?”

“Yeah. That’s a Skittle word.”

Joey grinned like a little kid and held out his hand eagerly. D chuckled and dropped a skittle into his palm.

“Alright, next one.” He pointed to seat.

This one took longer. Joey kept tripping over the ea pairing, trying it as “seh-ah-tuh” at first, then “seh-tuh,” before D finally interrupted and gently explained vowel teams.

“See, sometimes letters work in pairs. This one—e-a—makes the long E sound. So it’s not eh-ah, it’s ee.”

Joey’s nose scrunched. “Th-that’s dumb.”

“It is,” D agreed. “English is dumb. But we’re stuck with it.”

Joey laughed, then tried again. “Sss…ee…t. Seat?”

“Got it.” D held up a Skittle like a trophy.

Joey snatched it, victorious. “Th-this is kind of f-fun.”

“It’s supposed to be.” D glanced at him. “You know, most people learn to read by doing this kind of stuff. Phonics. Sounding out letters, practicing patterns. But even more than that, it’s repetition. Your brain starts recognizing whole words. That’s where sight words come in.”

“And… t-that’s different than s-sounding them out?” Joey asked.

“Exactly. You don’t have to sound out bus every time if you see it a hundred times. After you’ve seen it enough, you’ll just know it on sight. Like how you recognize faces or logos.”

Joey nodded slowly, watching D’s mouth as he spoke like he was trying to memorize the whole lesson. “But wh-what if I’m too old to learn all that?”

“You’re not,” D said, his voice low but certain. “Not even close. Your brain’s still plastic—meaning it can change and grow. It’s not about age. It’s about consistency.”

Joey softened at that. He looked down at the pamphlet, fingers nervously tracing a word along the edge. “Okay,” he said after a beat. “L-let’s do another one.”

D pointed to the next word in the pamphlet: ride.

Joey stared at it, then gave it a try. “Rrr… ih… duh… eh? R-ih-deh?” He frowned. “R-ih-dee?”

“Close,” D said, tapping the word with his finger. “Try it again, slower.”

“Rrr… ihh… duh… eee?” Joey scowled, frustrated. “I-I don’t get it. See D? I’m hopeless at this”

“No, you’re not,” D said gently. “That E’s a tricky bastard. You don’t pronounce it, but it does change the sound of the word.”

Joey blinked at him. “H-how? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a rule, kind of. When there's an E at the end of a word like this—after a consonant—it usually makes the vowel before it say its name.”

Joey looked more confused. “Say its… name?”

“Yeah. Like, the letter I usually makes an ih sound, like in tip or bit. But when there’s a silent E at the end? It turns into eye—like in side.”

Joey’s mouth opened a little. “Umm, o-okay…”

“The E doesn’t get said out loud,” D explained, “but it changes the vowel before it. It stretches it. Think of it like... a magic letter that reaches back and changes the sound but keeps quiet itself.”

Joey stared down at the word again, more curious now. “So it’s… rrr…eye…duh... ride?”

“Exactly.” D grinned. “You got it.”

Joey smiled, slowly. “Ride.”

D dropped a Skittle in his palm. “Earned it.”

Joey tossed it into his mouth with exaggerated triumph, his whole face lighting up. “Th-that one was hard,” he admitted, chewing.

“Yeah, but you figured it out. And now that you know the rule, you’ll start seeing it all over the place. It’s one of the most common patterns in reading. Silent E makes the vowel say its name.”

“That’s s-stupid,” Joey said again. But his smile said he liked knowing it anyway.

The next word—park—tripped him up again. The ar pairing made him stumble, and he sounded it out as “pay-er-kuh” with a frustrated groan.

D nudged his knee gently. “No rush. This one’s tough, too. AR usually sounds like ‘arrr,’ like a pirate. Think ‘car.’ Try again.”

Joey’s face lit up. “P-puh… ar… kuh. Park?”

D nodded. “There you go.”

Joey snorted. “T-this is dumb but… it kinda makes me h-happy, too.”

D softened, brushing his fingers over Joey’s knee and letting his hand linger there. “You should be. You’re doing good.”

Joey’s eyes flicked up. “You r-really think so?”

“I know so.”

They worked through a few more, going slower now, letting the rhythm of the road and the quiet night make the struggle feel less like learning and more like something private—just theirs. Joey got frustrated again with hotel and view, both of which had weird combinations that didn’t follow any rules he’d ever learned, but D stayed patient, even drawing the letters in the air with his finger and letting Joey copy the motions.

Eventually, Joey yawned mid-word and leaned over, resting his head on D’s shoulder.

“I c-can’t do anymore,” he mumbled. “My b-brain’s melty.”

D smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Melted brains get a Skittle, too.”

Joey held out his hand, eyes closed and D dropped one in.

They sat that way for a while, the pamphlet tucked away, the bag of candy half-empty between them. Outside, the dark hills rolled past, sleepy and endless.

Joey shifted against him, whispering, “Th-thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just… f-for not giving up on me.”

D pulled him close and let the silence stretch, warm and safe. “I never will. So don’t worry about that. Ever.”

Joey didn’t say anything after that. Just nestled in, warm and trusting, like the whole world had finally gone quiet.

D watched him sleep for a long time. He looked peaceful now, his parted lips pink from the candy, a lock of blond hair tickling the gentle curve of his cheek. Too young to have lived through what he had. Too damn sweet to be caught in a life like this.

And they were still far from safe.

D shifted his gaze toward the dark window, watching their reflections shimmer and stretch. The bus headlights cut through the trees like searchlights, and his stomach clenched with unease. The hunters’ stolen truck was still parked back at that gas station, just a few miles from the depot. He hadn’t even thought about wiping prints, hadn’t ditched it clean.

All he’d cared about in that moment was getting Joey—tipsy and shivering from those bastard’s beers—onto that damn bus. He hadn’t even taken time to make up a trail. He’d been too sloppy.

He let out a long, soundless breath.

He’d already planned on them getting off in a smaller town just before the city limits—someplace quiet, familiar, where he could scope out the area from a distance before they made any moves. But now he needed time to think. Time to plan.

D closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts aside for now.

Later. He’d sort it all later.

For now, he pressed a kiss to Joey’s hair, breathing in the faint scent of soap and sugar.

“Sleep while you can,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. “We’ll need it.”

He curled around Joey, tightening his arm across the boy’s waist, letting the rhythm of the road rock him slowly back toward sleep.

Three hours later, the Greyhound hissed as it slowed to a crawl, the brakes squealing against the damp October air. It was half past midnight, and Folly Beach was dead quiet—the little bus depot lit by a single flickering streetlight and the dull glow from the vending machines humming just outside. Nothing moved. Not a car. Not a person. Not even the wind.

D didn’t move at first. He stayed in the bus seat, leaning forward just enough to peer through the streaked window. His dark eyes scanned the lot. Every parked car. Every alley mouth. Every doorway. But there was nothing but shadows, peeling paint, cracked pavement. No sign of sirens. No black sedans. No hints of trouble.

But that didn’t ease the tension in his spine.

He knew better than to feel relieved.

They’d left a goddamn trail from Ohio all the way to here. From the Velvet Room disaster, to Milo’s body cooling in a Dollar General parking lot, down to the stolen truck back in West Virginia, abandoned carelessly just a couple miles from the local bus station.

It was a mess. One of the worst he’d ever run from. And still…

Nothing.

But that didn’t mean they were safe. And D was getting fucking paranoid.

He made a mental note to call Nina in the morning—see if she’d heard anything, seen movement. They had the burner still, tucked in D’s back pocket, and if anyone knew how to read smoke signals in the underworld, it was her.

Beside him, Joey stirred.

D instinctively slid his hand across the space between them, brushing Joey’s arm as the kid blinked awake, his soft hair sticking out in every direction.

“Are we… are we in C-Charleston?” Joey mumbled, voice low and scratchy with sleep.

“Close,” D said, watching him. “Folly Beach. Little town about ten miles out. Its… quiet here. Less busy than Charleston. Fewer tourist types.”

Joey blinked out the window, confused. “You’ve… b-been here before?”

D paused. Thought about how to word it. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Four years ago. Job in Cleveland went sideways and Vinnie sent me here to lay low for a while. About six months.”

Joey’s brows lifted. He looked more awake now. “And you st-stayed here?”

D nodded once. “Did some odd jobs. Leon had people down here back then. I kept busy. Kept quiet.”

He watched Joey’s face change with curiosity, all the pieces clicking together. Joey hadn’t known that part. D had mentioned Uncle Leon, but this was the first time he’d ever said anything about this place. And there was more he still wasn’t saying.

D turned back toward the front of the bus as the driver announced their stop. “When I was here before,” he said carefully, “I stayed above a surf shop.”

Joey blinked. “A s-surf shop?”

D nodded. “Yeah. Called Board to Death.”

Joey made a face. “That’s a r-really bad name.”

D smirked. “It’s a pun.”

Joey blinked at him, clearly not following.

“‘Bored to death’—like when you’ve got nothing to do,” D explained as they started walking toward the exit. “But this one’s spelled like board, as in surfboard. It’s wordplay.”

Joey squinted, his expression twisting in obvious confusion.

D chuckled under his breath, amused by the blank look on Joey’s face—but the laughter faded almost as quickly as it came.

As they stepped off the bus, the warmth of the coast hit them in a heavy wave. Not hot—not this late in the season—but sticky and dense, the kind of October air that clung to your skin and smelled faintly of salt and brine, even if the ocean itself was still hidden behind blocks of quiet storefronts.

The town felt like it was holding its breath.

No traffic. No neon signs flickering. Just the low thrum of bugs in the distance, and the soft hum of a broken soda machine blinking red beside the depot bench.

Joey shuffled closer. “What d-do we do now?”

D glanced down the sidewalk, toward the dim horizon he remembered like a map etched into his skull.

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

Joey shifted uneasily. “How much m-money do we have left?”

“Forty bucks.”

Joey made a face. “We c-could sleep in the park. Maybe f-find a nice bench.”

D didn’t laugh. He just sighed, the weight of everything pressing hard behind his eyes.

“I’ve got a plan.”

Joey tilted his head, watching him.

“When I was here before,” D said, lowering his voice as he reached out and gently guided Joey forward by the elbow, leading him away from the depot, “I got close with the guy who worked the surf shop. Name’s Zeke. He was the son of the owner. Real surfer type. Gave lessons and lived in a little room in the back.”

Joey blinked up at him. “You mean… you guys were f-friends?”

D didn’t answer directly. “Zeke… might be willing to put us up for a few nights. If he still works there that is. It’s… been a while since we talked and it didn’t exactly end on the best of terms.”

They turned onto a quiet street. Streetlamps buzzed above them, casting orange pools of light on the old sidewalk. Far in the distance, down a road D hadn’t set foot on in four years, he knew the surf shop still stood.

Joey’s eyes were wide as he tried to read D’s face in the dark. Curious. Watching. But he didn’t push—yet.

D just kept walking, the kid tucked close against his side, his jaw set tight as a drum.

And somewhere inside him, a memory stirred—saltwater, heat, sunlight, and the echo of someone else’s laugh.

But he didn’t go there. Not yet.

They had to survive the night first.

They crossed an empty street and headed toward the older part of town. Folly Beach was sleeping—porch lights flickering, palm trees rustling in the night breeze. A few closed cafés and gift shops sat dark and quiet, their painted signs swinging gently above locked doors. D’s boots echoed against the cracked pavement, each step bringing back a ghost of memory he wasn’t quite ready to face.

As they turned onto the wooden boardwalk, the faint scent of brine drifted in with the wind. Somewhere ahead, out past the sleepy rows of beach cottages and narrow alleys, the ocean whispered its presence.

Joey slowed, lifting his head. “D… is that…?”

“Yeah,” D murmured. “That’s the Atlantic.”

Joey’s eyes widened, wonder slipping across his face in the moonlight. “I c-can hear it. The waves…”

“You’ll see it soon enough,” D said gently. “Right now, we need to focus on finding cover.”

They passed a weathered bait shop with an old pirate mannequin slouched out front. A dog barked somewhere far off, and the faint creak of a windchime stirred above them.

The boardwalk creaked under their boots as they rounded the corner, and there it was, just like D remembered.

Board to Death.

The faded surfboard sign swung above the door, the lettering still done in old Frank’s sloppy stoner script. The wooden siding had been painted a sun-bleached turquoise sometime in the last few years, and a couple of plants in chipped ceramic pots flanked the entrance like lazy sentries.

The place hadn’t changed much.

But D had.

And somehow, he knew this was about to get complicated.

He hesitated a beat, then reached up and knocked—not hard. But not shy either.

Joey stood beside him, quiet but alert, his eyes darting across the sleepy storefronts. He looked up at D, clearly dying to ask more questions, but D didn’t look back.

It took a moment. A long one.

Then the little window at the far end of the building creaked open, and a head popped out, backlit by a warm yellow glow.

“Who the hell—?”

The voice cut off.

Then, “Darius?”

A beat. Then the window slammed shut, and footsteps shuffled inside the shop. A dark figure appeared behind the glass, then a few locks clattered and it creaked open.

And there he was.

Zeke.

Same golden tan, like the sun never let him go. Wavy light brown hair tousled in a way that looked effortless, perfect—like it had grown that way on purpose. Shirtless, because of course he was, standing barefoot in threadbare board shorts, chest and abs cut like marble and lightly dusted with salt and sand.

Seaglass blue eyes stared hard at D. A little dazed. A little hurt. A little too awake for it being past midnight.

“Darius fucking Cross,” Zeke breathed. “I thought you were a ghost.”

D cleared his throat. “Hey, Zeke.”

Zeke didn’t move. Didn’t smile.

Just… looked at him.

Then his gaze slid sideways.

Right to Joey.

Joey, in his rumpled flannel and scuffed boots, messy blond hair sticking up in wild tufts, blinked at him like a deer caught in the surf shop’s glow. Immediately, he took a half-step back behind D’s shoulder.

Zeke’s eyebrows ticked up—just slightly. Then he looked back at D. “Wow,” he said flatly. “So… that’s how it is now?”

D didn’t answer that. He wasn’t about to unpack years of history with Zeke on a dark doorstep while Joey looked like he wanted to evaporate.

Zeke leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, muscles flexing. “It’s been four years. You show up in the middle of the night. No call. No warning.”

“I know,” D said. “Wasn’t exactly planned.”

Zeke snorted softly. “It never is with you.” He stepped back, finally, and gestured them inside. “Come on, then. You look like hell.”

They entered the shop. It smelled like wax and salt and something vaguely citrusy. Joey hovered close to D, silent, soaking in the surfboards racked along the walls and the handmade jewelry spinning lazily on a counter display.

Zeke locked the door behind them and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“My dad’s gone,” he said abruptly, quieter now. “The old hippie finally took his last wave.”

D’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry. Frank was good people.”

Zeke shrugged one shoulder. “Left me the shop. The house in town. Didn’t really know what to do with any of it, so… here I am. Still give lessons when the season’s right.”

D nodded. “You still living in the back?”

“Mostly.” Zeke’s eyes flicked to Joey again. “Lucky for you, huh?”

Joey flushed and looked down again.

Zeke didn’t stop looking. “You guys need a place?”

D nodded. “Just for a bit. Not long.”

Zeke tilted his head, his eyes unreadable. “You running from something, Darius?”

D didn’t blink. “Aren’t I always?”

Zeke made a face like fair, then yawned and stretched—very deliberately—all toned arms and sun-kissed skin. His eyes flicked toward Joey again. “He don’t say much, huh?”

Joey startled. “I-I…”

Zeke blinked—surprised, maybe, by the stammer.

“…Huh,” he said, head tilting as he took Joey in properly now. “You’re younger. Like way younger.”

“Zeke,” D warned.

“What? Just an observation.” Zeke smiled without showing teeth and crossed to the back cooler. “Still got that freezer problem, by the way. You remember that thing—always acting up. Couple other things around here need work, too. You still handy?”

D started to answer, but then shook his head, gesturing toward Joey. “He’s better than me. Joey’s your guy.”

Zeke looked back at Joey again, this time slower.

Joey straightened a little. “I—I c-can fix stuff. I mean, I—yeah.”

Zeke raised one perfect brow, then looked back at D with a smirk. “Well. He talks…. Sorta.”

Joey’s face flushed crimson. He dropped his gaze to the floor, like he wanted it to open up and swallow him whole.

D felt his gut twist. He stepped forward slightly, shoulder brushing Joey’s in a quiet I’ve got you sort of way. “We can do whatever you need,” he said, tone steady. “Fix the freezer. Hang drywall. Sweep sand outta your soul.”

Zeke gave a short laugh at that, the tension in his frame softening—but his eyes never left D. “Still got that mouth, I see.”

D didn’t reply. His eyes flicked to Joey, who hadn’t moved, jaw tight, hands tucked into his sleeves like a nervous kid.

Zeke caught the look. His smile faltered just a hair. “So, you two are…?”

“Together,” D said simply.

Joey’s head jerked up—wide-eyed.

Zeke’s face didn’t change, but something in his jaw clicked. “Wow. Didn’t think you did together, Darius.”

D looked him in the eye. “I do now.”

The silence stretched.

Then Zeke gave a small nod. “Well. Good for you.”

He turned, walking toward the back of the shop again. “I’ll grab you a spare key to the upstairs. Sheets are clean. Towels too. Hot water’s hit or miss, but the view’s still good.”

Joey watched him go, then whispered, “He’s, uh… n-nice.”

D grunted.

Joey leaned a little closer. “Also hot. Like. Ridiculously.”

D sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

“Did you guys…?”

“Joey.”

Joey clammed up immediately, going red again.

D shook his head, heart pounding, already dreading the tension that was bound to simmer once the upstairs door closed behind them.

Yep.

This was gonna be a long couple of days.

Zeke returned a minute later with a key, dangling it from two fingers. “Top of the stairs. You remember the way, I assume.”

D reached out to take it, but Zeke didn’t immediately let go.

He held it there between them, gaze steady. “The lock still sticks a little. You gotta jiggle it just right.” A beat passed. “Like you used to.”

Joey blinked, looking between them, confused.

D gave the key a sharp tug, finally prying it free. “Yeah… thanks.”

Zeke leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed again, a slow smirk creeping up one side of his mouth. “Place looks different, but it still smells like you, weirdly enough. Probably the citrus. You always liked that stuff, remember? Dad used to say you’d bathe in it if you could.”

D didn’t respond. Just motioned for Joey to follow.

But Zeke wasn’t done.

He tilted his head toward Joey, eyes glittering under the dim shop lights. “Is this your first time at the beach?” he asked sweetly. “Darius used to swim naked out there at night. Like some kind of feral sea god. Real sight to see.”

Joey froze mid-step.

Zeke chuckled. “Did he ever tell you that?”

“N-no,” Joey said, stiff.

Zeke turned his gaze back to D, letting the air hang heavy. “I still have that blanket, you know. The one we used on the roof that night it rained. You were so damn loud, I thought we were gonna get the cops called.”

D’s jaw flexed. “Zeke,” he said tightly, voice low. “Enough.”

Zeke shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, man. Just reminiscing. You know how nostalgic I get.”

Joey looked down, his cheeks burning, arms crossing over his chest.

Zeke’s eyes lingered on D one more time. “Well. Goodnight, Darius,” he said again, slower this time, savoring the syllables. “Sweet dreams.”

D turned without a word, grabbed Joey gently by the arm, and led him down the narrow hall toward the back stairs.

As the surf shop door clicked shut behind them, Joey finally whispered, “H-he doesn’t like me.”

D didn’t answer. Not yet.

Not until they were upstairs. Not until the door was shut and locked behind them.

“C’mon,” D murmured, then they took the stairs, Joey trailing just behind him, his head down.

The apartment upstairs was small but cozy—open-concept, with slanted ceilings and warm beach-toned walls, the color of wet sand. A ceiling fan spun lazily above, making soft clicks with each turn. The air held a faint citrus trace from an old reed diffuser that sat dried out on the windowsill, next to a forgotten conch shell.

A tiny kitchenette stood in one corner, blue-painted cabinets chipped at the corners, a little fridge humming like a tired insect. There was only one bed, tucked neatly under the slope of the ceiling. The curtains over the balcony doors were drawn tight, but through the gaps, faint moonlight flickered like the sea was breathing just beyond the glass.

D set the key on the side table, his shoulders tight. He turned, expecting Joey to be exploring the place, maybe making some sarcastic remark to lighten the tension.

But Joey stood in the middle of the room like a ghost.

His arms were crossed hard over his chest, knuckles white. His jaw was clenched, and he was staring at the floor like it had personally offended him.

“…You were together,” Joey said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y-you and him.”

D winced. “Yeah.”

Joey’s breath hitched. “And it was… serious?”

D turned slowly, his heart already heavy. “We weren’t boyfriends,” he said. “But it was something. Something real. Messy. Passionate.”

Joey flinched like he’d been struck.

“I didn’t handle it well,” D admitted. “For awhile, I thought about staying. I thought about building something here. With him. But when Vinnie called me back to Cleveland, I left without saying goodbye. Just disappeared.”

Joey looked at him, jaw tight, his eyes too bright. “He kn-knew your name,” he whispered. “Y-your whole name. First and last. You told him. But not me.”

“Joey—” D started toward him.

“Why?” Joey snapped, stepping back. “Wh-why didn’t you t-tell me? I’ve… I’ve done things with you. I l-love you, and you didn’t even—even give me your full name?”

D’s chest ached. “It’s not like that. It just never came up. I swear to you, I’m not hiding anything.”

“But you were!” Joey’s voice cracked. “You h-had this whole l-life here. A p-pretty boyfriend. A fucking beach town! And I d-didn’t even know!”

“We weren’t boyfriends—”

“Y-you said it was real!” Joey shouted. “That it meant something!”

“Yeah. It did. Four years ago,” D snapped back, louder than he meant to. “So what?”

Joey recoiled.

D closed his eyes and breathed deep, fighting for control. When he opened them again, Joey looked like he might cry. Or bolt.

Slowly, D crossed the room. “It was intense. We were close. But I never gave him the whole truth,” he said, his voice steady. “About who I am. About the things I’ve done. With you—Joey, I’ve already told you more than I ever told him.”

“But you l-left him,” Joey whispered. “Just… l-left. You could do that to me too. Y-you barely know me.”

D flinched. “Joey, I’m not gonna leave you.”

“How d-do you know that?!” Joey cried, finally looking up. His cheeks were red, his eyes glassy. “You only just met me. It’s been a week. Maybe I’m just… just another detour before you run back to Cleveland or off to some other g-guy who knows your damn name.”

D’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do that.”

“And he’s so fucking perfect, isn’t he?” Joey shouted. “H-his hair, his voice, the way he walks around like he’s not afraid of anything! And he l-laughed at my stutter.”

“Joey—”

“Don’t pity me!” Joey’s fists curled in the fabric of his shirt. “I know I’m n-not like him. I’m not smooth. I don’t know how to talk to people, and I d-don’t have muscles or tan skin or a f-fucking surfboard!”

“Stop comparing yourself to him!” D snapped again, sharp and unfiltered. “You think what we had even touches what I feel for you?!”

Joey’s breath caught.

D stepped forward, hands trembling slightly as he cupped Joey’s face. “He was a dream I walked away from. You’re real. You look at me like you see every part of me, and you don’t run. You ask questions even when you’re scared of the answers. You hold my hand like it means something.”

Joey blinked hard. His bottom lip trembled.

“You’re beautiful, Joey,” D said, voice low and steady now. “Not in spite of the stutter. But because of it. Because you are messy and rough around the edges. You’re beautiful because you’re you. And being with you is the first time in a long time I’ve felt like a person again.”

Joey looked down, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I just… I don’t want to be something you r-regret.”

“You won’t be,” D whispered. “You aren’t. I’ve never felt this way before. Not with him. Not with anyone.”

Joey trembled in his arms, fists curled in the fabric of D’s shirt. “I just f-feel so stupid. I hated the way he looked at me.”

“I didn’t like it either,” D said, kissing the side of his head. “He was trying to get under your skin. He’s good at that.”

“Y-yeah.” Joey let out a little sound—wounded and relieved all at once—and D pulled him into his arms, holding him like a lifeline.

“But you don’t have to listen to him. I’m not going anywhere,” D murmured into his hair. “I swear to God.”

Joey’s arms slid around him slowly, fiercely. “I still h-hate him,” he muttered.

“Me too,” D said, lips brushing his temple.

Joey looked up at him then—eyes wet, lips parted, a silent question trembling between them.

And D kissed him. Deep and slow and anchoring. Like a vow.

Joey melted into it, clinging to D with everything in his being.

And when they pulled apart, breathless and flushed, D smiled and pressed their foreheads together.

“Let’s not talk about Zeke anymore,” he whispered.

Joey nodded, lips swollen and eyes glassy.

D kissed him again—slower this time—and when he pulled back, he said, “C’mon. Let’s check out the balcony.”

Eyes wide, Joey followed D across the room then, watched as he slid open the balcony doors with a grunt—the glass stuck in its warped frame until it finally gave way with a moan, the sound echoing into the stillness like a secret finally confessed.

A warm wind drifted through the opening, laced with salt and moonlight.

Joey kicked his boots off, then stepped barefoot onto the wooden planks outside, his flannel loose around his shoulders as his lips parted and the sight met him like a punch to the soul.

“…Oh my God,” he whispered, reverent.

Before them, the Atlantic stretched out like something out of a dream—black velvet water stitched with silver threads of moonlight. Waves lapped at the shore in gentle, rhythmic breaths, kissing the sand then pulling away again like they couldn’t bear to stay gone for long. Palm trees swayed in silhouette. The sky glittered with stars so sharp and close, it felt like they could reach up and pluck one down if they dared.

The boardwalk ran just below their perch, and beyond that—just sand and sea and infinity.

Joey clutched the railing, eyes shining, lips trembling with emotion. “It’s s-so big,” he breathed. “I’ve never—never seen anything like this. Not in real life.”

D watched him instead of the view.

The awe in Joey’s face. The soft fall of his hair in the breeze. The way his shoulders trembled—not with fear now, but with wonder.

“You’ll see more in the morning,” D said quietly, stepping up behind him. “We’ll go down when it’s light. It’s even better when you can see the colors.”

Joey shook his head, eyes never leaving the horizon. “I d-don’t wanna wait. I wanna see it now. I wanna touch it.”

D smiled, something aching and tender rising in his chest. He slid his arms around Joey’s waist, pulling him gently back against his chest. “Patience, baby. It’s not going anywhere. It’ll still be waiting for us tomorrow.”

Joey leaned into him without thinking, his breath hitching as D’s lips found the curve of his temple, then trailed slowly, reverently down to his cheek.

Then lower.

Joey turned in his arms—slowly, breathlessly—and their mouths met like it was the first time all over again.

This kiss was deeper. Slower. Not greedy or desperate but knowing, filled with promises too big to name.

By the time D pulled back, Joey was gasping softly, his lashes low, his hands twisted in the front of D’s shirt.

D’s voice dropped to a velvet hush. “I wanna try something,” he murmured.

Joey blinked up at him, dazed. “W-what?”

“Something a little different,” D said, stepping back toward the lounge chair. His eyes gleamed under the moonlight as he began to undress—casual, confident, the smooth pull of fabric off his skin practiced, like he’d done this a hundred times before. And he had, of course.

Joey stared, heat rushing to his face, his body going still.

“Take your clothes off,” D said softly, eyes never leaving him. “I want you like this. Out here. With the stars and the ocean watching.”

“R-right now?” Joey whispered. “Here?”

D nodded once, sinking down onto the lounge like a king on his throne—gloriously naked now, his thick cock quickly rising to the occasion. His body was painted in moonlight, every scar a shadow, every muscle carved with purpose. He stretched back, arms open like an invitation, his voice low and coaxing, “C’mere, sweetheart. Sit in my lap.”

Joey swallowed hard. Then nodded, shaky and pink and overwhelmed. He fumbled with the buttons of his flannel, eyes darting to the sky like he could hide his face in the stars. His jeans followed next, clumsy and slow, until he stood trembling and bare, his skin kissed by the breeze and his cute little cock sticking straight up, flushed dark pink with arousal.

He stepped closer and D reached out, hands warm and sure, pulling him gently down.

Joey straddled his lap and their bodies pressed together from thigh to chest. Their cocks slid together, and Joey made a soft, startled sound as D’s hands cupped his asscheeks, thumbs brushing teasingly along the crease between them.

“D!” Joey gasped, eyes wide.

D smirked, slow and wicked, one hand sliding up Joey’s spine in a calming stroke. “If I’m gonna take your virginity, sweetheart…” His voice dipped like smoke and silk. “I’ve gotta stretch you first. You won’t be able to take me if I don’t.”

Joey whined, helplessly turned on, his hands grasping D’s shoulders for balance. His face flushed, but his hips tilted closer, instinctive and needy, his cock pressing even more firmly against D’s.

D chuckled low in his throat, and pulled him in tighter. “Just hold onto me, baby. I’ve got you.”

Joey buried his face in D’s chest, moaning as D grabbed both his plump asscheeks again, squeezing and kneading the rounded globes with his big, strong hands. Slowly, Joey started to move against him, rolling his hips so his dick rubbed against D’s.

D hummed low in his throat. It felt good, but he wasn’t concerned with coming just yet. He gave Joey’s right asscheek an affectionate slap, squeezed it once more, then reached up to spit in his hand.

Joey still had his face buried against D’s chest, so he didn’t realize what was happening until D spread his cheeks and gently pressed a single wet finger against his tight, little hole.

“Ohhh!” Joey sat up a little, gasping in surprise.

D laughed at him. “What did you think I meant by ‘stretching’?”

“I-I-I—” Joey struggled to form a sentence as D touched his virgin pucker, running little circles around the tiny entrance with his fingertip. “Oooh g-god!”

“Just relax, baby,” D purred, leaning up to nip Joey’s quivering bottom lip. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Joey moaned and swayed forward until he fell against D’s chest again, pressing a hard, wet, desperate kiss to D’s half parted lips. Their tongues met and D took over, dominating Joey’s soft, sweet mouth with his own, firm and possessive.

And all the while, he rubbed Joey’s little hole, round and round, until it softened just slightly and he could easily slide his first finger inside.

Joey moaned into D’s mouth, and immediately, his little pucker tightened around D’s forefinger.

“Mmm, that’s good baby, just relax…” D reached up with his free hand and stroked Joey’s back again, soothing him with gentle, whispered words of encouragement. Nonsense really, but slowly, under his touch, Joey fell limp against his chest and pressed his ass back experimentally into his questing finger.

“It…f-feels weird,” Joey said, his breath coming hot against D’s skin.

“I know. That’s why we’re going slow,” D murmured, then pressed a warm kiss against the top of his head. “And you’re doing great, but try to push back against me when I go deeper. It’ll help.”

“O-okay,” Joey whimpered, his arms sliding up around D’s neck to hold on. He took a shaky breath, bracing himself.

D hugged Joey close, then gently, pushed his finger deeper into his tight heat. Joey groaned, trembled, but he shifted his hips and accepted D deeper inside his body. They did it again, then again, Joey rocking his hips back and forth while D slowly penetrated him. Their cocks were sliding together again; Joey’s leaking cockhead pulling deliciously on D’s swollen dick flesh, and D started to meet him thrust for thrust, grinding and rubbing against Joey as he worked the rest of his finger inside him.

When he touched Joey’s prostate, he knew it immediately, because the boy let out a startled yell the second he did, his whole body clenching up tight at the sudden, and very pleasurable sensation.

“W-what—”

“That’s your prostate, babe,” D said, smirking at the blond’s awed and totally bewildered expression. “It’ll feel amazing when I’m nailing it with my cock. But for now, we’ll practice with fingers. You…didn’t even know you had one, did you?”

“I g-guess my b-brother mentioned it o-once,” Joey stammered, blinking at D in amazement. “C-can you… d-do it again?”

“I was planning on it,” D chuckled, then he caught Joey’s lips, kissing him fiercely while he lazily continued to finger the boy. He didn’t touch Joey’s secret spot every time, but when Joey whined for it, when the blond slid his dick against D’s just right, D stroked the little gland firmly as a reward.

And Joey fucking loved it.

In just a matter of minutes, he’d turned from a shy and nervous little boy to an eager whore, grinding his ass back on D’s hand, then snapping his hips forward, pressing and rubbing his cock against D’s in a wild fervor.

They moved together like that for several more moments before Joey suddenly tore his mouth from D’s. He cried out and arched his back, his slender little body shaking with pure pleasure as he exploded all over D’s naked chest.

D kept his finger deep in Joey as he watched through half-lidded eyes, his own cock twitching strongly as he felt the way Joey’s inner muscles clenched him just right. He was thinking about fucking the boy. But not yet. They still had another round or two of practice before that happened. Joey was tight.

The boy in question collapsed bonelessly against him once more, totally spent, and gently, D removed his finger, raising his hand to rub soothing circles on his lower back instead.

“You did good, baby. I’m proud of you,” he murmured, laying a soft kiss on Joey’s forehead.

Joey sighed contentedly. His eyes were shut, but a little smile curled his lips. “But w-we’re not done yet…”

D raised an eyebrow. “We’re not?”

Still smiling, Joey opened his mischievous green eyes and slithered downward, slotting himself between D’s spread thighs. He looked down pointedly at his big, swollen cock. “You w-want to come too, don’t you?”

“I definitely wouldn’t object.”

Grinning now, Joey gathered D’s shaft with both hands and drew it closer to his mouth. For a couple seconds, he teased the fat head with his lips, flicking his tongue out to taste a bead of precome as it bubbled from the tip.

D moaned, dropping a heavy hand onto the back of Joey’s head and the boy took it as encouragement, guiding D’s cock, just the head, into his mouth. He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing out and D groaned louder when Joey pressed his tongue into the sensitive spot just under his urethra. But then, he pulled back again, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, full of laughter.

“I-I’m gonna start calling you Darius now. All the t-time,” Joey said decisively. “I have more r-right to call you that then Zeke d-does. It’s only f-fair.”

“That’s…true.”

“I l-love you, Darius,” Joey said, smiling at him, bright and exuberant like the sun. “And you’re mine.”

“Also true,” D said, smirking back. “And I love you, too, but you should really take care of this cock. It is yours, after all.”

Joey giggled as D made his big, impressive dick twitch, showing off just a little. The blond blushed with pride and acceptance, and giving D one last heartbreaking grin, he ducked his head and took D back into his mouth.

D hissed as Joey devoured him slowly, methodically, inch by excruciating inch. The boy held his cock confidently at the base, adding just the right amount of pressure to D’s already throbbing shaft as he pushed himself to take the first half down his throat. He bobbed his head down, lips tight around D, then he pulled back up to suck a little on the head again. Then back down, slightly further each time. He quickly had D’s shaft slick with saliva and his lips glided easily along the length, up and down, over and over.

When Joey reached a certain point, he started swallowing repeatedly as he instinctively fought his gag reflex. His eyes watered a little from the strain, but the look on his face was one of utter contentment. He even moaned a little as he deep throated D, his eyes fluttering partway shut with a greedy sort of pleasure.

D carded trembling fingers through Joey’s silky locks. He was totally entranced by the sight of him. He was getting really good at this, at sucking D’s big dick, and D was deeply aroused watching him work, listening to his soft, breathy moans, the wet smack of his lips and tongue.

The crash of waves below whispered like a lullaby, wrapping them in a rhythm older than time. And for a little while, nothing else existed—just Darius and Joey. Bare to the night sky, tangled in moonlight and each other, broke and hunted and terrified... but still making love like it was the only truth left in the world.

When D finally came, he bit down on his tongue hard to keep from yelling out, but he shook powerfully though the orgasm just the same. Gripping the back of Joey’s head in a death grip, he unloaded straight down his throat.

Joey gagged a little, but swallowed like a trooper and D released him just seconds later, panting in the aftermath, his body tingling all the way down to his toes.

Joey lingered for a moment, nuzzling his cheek lightly against D’s thigh, his lips curving into a quiet, satisfied smile. He looked proud—smug, even—and D could only stare down at him in wonder, chest tight with something far too tender to name.

Still catching his breath, D reached down, curling a hand through the soft mess of Joey’s hair and tugging gently. “C’mere.”

Joey let himself be pulled up, limp but glowing, and when he collapsed across D’s chest, D wrapped him up immediately. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces—skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Joey’s soft cock rested against D’s stomach, warm and sticky, but it felt good. Really good. Right in a way nothing else did.

They kissed lazily for a long, slow moment—nothing urgent, just soft lips and gentle sighs. Sweet and sleepy, like they were trying to memorize each other with their mouths.

Eventually, Joey let out a little hum and dropped his head against D’s chest. “Mmm. Tired…” he whispered.

D kissed the top of his head. “Me too.”

Joey didn’t move. His breathing slowed, his lashes fluttering against D’s skin.

The breeze carried the salt of the sea and the faintest creak of the boardwalk below. In the distance, windchimes whispered a lullaby only the stars could hear.

“We should go inside,” D murmured.

But Joey was already half-asleep, his fingers curled trustingly against D’s ribs.

D smiled to himself and tightened his arms around the boy. “Okay. Maybe later.”

He let his head fall back, the night sky yawning wide above them. A thousand stars blinked overhead, bearing silent witness as he drifted into sleep with Joey in his arms—naked, tangled, warm. For the first time in years, D didn't feel haunted or hollow. Just held. Just here.

And for a while, there was nothing else but this.

Just Joey, the moon, the waves, and the promise of tomorrow.

They slept in the open, tangled and bare beneath a thin blanket of stars.

It wasn’t long—just a few hours—but it was peaceful. The kind of sleep D hadn’t tasted in years. No bad dreams. No gunshots. Just the slow, soothing crash of waves and the warmth of Joey’s breath on his chest.

Until the burner phone started ringing.

The sound tore through the stillness like a slap, sharp and jarring, and D was already rolling out from under Joey before his mind had fully caught up. He was up in an instant, half-blind with panic, eyes searching the balcony until he spotted his jeans crumpled near the lounge chair.

He yanked the phone free and hit the screen, fumbled, and hit speaker by mistake.

Nina’s voice exploded into the quiet. “Carmine tapped my phone. He’s been listening the whole time. He knows, D. He knows you're going to Leon’s to get that evidence.”

Joey sat upright behind him, bleary-eyed and scared. “W-what?”

D’s stomach dropped.

Nina’s voice crackled with urgency. “You’re on speaker, aren’t you?”

D swore under his breath. “Yeah.”

“Fucking wonderful.” Nina’s voice turned cold. “Might as well invite Carmine himself to the call.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it. I don’t have time.” Her words were clipped and breathless. “I’m packing what matters and getting out of town. You need to know something, D. I was combing through active APBs last night—cross-checking arrest logs and officer statements. I came across a flagged tip. Anonymous. Three days old. I don’t know how I missed it, but it’s real. And it’s bad.”

D’s gut tightened. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “Carmine.”

“Who else?” Nina hissed. “It reads like a goddamn novella. Says you and Joey are both working for the Cleveland mob. That you, D, have gone rogue. That your old partner Leon had some kind of shadow operation in Charleston and you were his fallback plan. That he left you stolen money and contact files from rival crews—all to help you if shit ever hit the fan.”

D’s face darkened. Joey was staring at him, pale and confused.

“That’s not all,” Nina continued. “The tip says you killed Ethan Chambers. That he found out about your little plan to betray Vinnie and you offed him to keep him quiet. Said Joey helped. Your lover and accomplice. That you’re both running together now, and trying to access Leon’s hidden stash to disappear. And get this—he gave them your exact location. That farmhouse in West Virginia.”

Joey’s mouth dropped open. “They think—” he gasped. “They think I—?”

“Goddamnit,” D cut in sharply. “That’s why the cops hit the house so hard the other day… It wasn’t your fault at all. None of this is.”

Joey blinked up at D, his voice small. “But y-you said Josh...”

“I was wrong,” D muttered, shoulders tense. “I’m sorry.”

Nina ignored the interruption. “The Feds were already looking at Vinnie for Ethan’s death, but this tip… it refocused the whole goddamn case. You’re a person of interest now. And you’ve got Leon’s safehouse tied to you in every database as your end goal.”

She paused, breath harsh.

“They’ll be waiting for you there, D. Cops or Vinnie’s guys. Doesn’t matter. Either way, you’re walking into a trap.”

D shook his head. “No. No. We’re too close. You know what’s at stake. If that evidence is still in there—”

“You’re not hearing me,” Nina snapped. “This isn’t salvageable. You’re compromised. You’re done.”

“There’s evidence in that house, Nina,” D snapped. “Real shit. You know the kind of damage we could do with it.”

“And what good is it if you’re both in the morgue before sunrise?”

Joey gaze up at D, scared and silent—until he finally spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…W-we should listen to her. She s-sounds like she knows what she’s doing…”

Nina let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Kid’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”

D exhaled hard through his nose, tension rippling down his bare spine. The call felt like a noose tightening—no good options, only risk and worse risk.

Still, he wasn’t ready to give up.

“We can’t talk on these anymore,” he said. “This line’s compromised.”

“You think?” Nina snapped.

“You remember the code phrase we came up with? Craigslist, missed connections, Charleston. I’ll post it in the next few hours with the new number. Look for it tomorrow.”

“Copy that,” Nina said. “I’ll wait to hear from you. But if you don’t post by 8 a.m. sharp, I’m assuming you’re dead.”

“Fair,” D said grimly.

Nina paused again. “And D?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t screw this up. You’re not just trying to clear your name anymore. You’ve got a kid with you. Try not to get him killed, okay?”

The line clicked off before D could reply.

He stared down at the phone in his hand for a long second—then with a sharp flick, he yanked the back off, pulled the battery and SIM, and tossed the whole thing over the balcony into the sand below.

Joey flinched. “Wh-what now?” he whispered. “Aren’t they gonna f-find us? Do we h-have to go?”

D hesitated.

Everything in him screamed yes. Run. Hide. But…

“No,” he said finally, his voice low and certain. “We’ve been here all night. On the beach. Totally exposed. If they were going to hit us, they would’ve done it already. Running now just proves we’ve got something to hide.”

Joey blinked at him.

“I think we’re being watched,” D continued. “And I want to know why. If they’re waiting for us to panic, I’m not giving them that. We stay calm. We stay still. And I get eyes on that safehouse before we make any moves.”

Joey swallowed. “But… i-if it’s a trap…”

“Then we’ll find another way,” D promised, stepping closer and brushing a lock of windblown hair out of his eyes. “But I’m not letting Carmine steal this from us. We are this close, baby. This fucking close to blowing the lid off all of it. And I’m not leaving it behind without a fight.”

Joey nodded slowly. He didn’t look any less scared. But he didn’t argue either.

D kissed him once—soft and quick—then stood up, already scanning the horizon, already planning their next move.

Because if Carmine wanted a war, he was about to get one.