The farmer’s truck rattled down the narrow country road, the scent of diesel mixing with the damp air of October. The old guy drove like he’d been doing it his whole life—left hand at twelve o’clock, shoulders slouched, eyes relaxed under his faded ballcap. His wife, her silver curls tucked up in a pink bandana, was cheerful in the passenger seat, humming softly to the radio.

D sat in the back, stiff and alert despite the sleepy road, but beside him, Joey was practically bouncing from the novelty of it all. He stared out the window, a slight breeze teasing his blond hair, eyes wide like he’d never seen trees change color before.

“Look at that,” he murmured, pointing out toward the orange and gold hillside that rolled past them like some painting come to life.

The valley was beautiful, D had to admit. Fences lined the road in sagging zig-zags, dotted with rusted signs and the occasional rust-red mailbox. Trees arched overhead in tangled canopies, dropping leaves like confetti. A hawk spiraled above, its cry cutting across the hum of the engine.

In the front seat, the old man had the window cracked and his elbow resting on the sill. He hadn’t said much since Joey had got the truck started, but his wife was more than willing to fill in the blanks. Just then, she turned, still humming along to the radio, and gave them both bright smiles.

“Well, now that we’re properly acquainted with your car-fixin’ skills,” she chirped, “how about your names? I’m Dolly, and that’s Bo there with the iron foot. We’re the Hargroves.”

Joey perked right up. “I’m—uh, I’m J-Joey. Joey Balas.”

D froze, subtle but immediate. His jaw ticked.

But Joey, oblivious, continued brightly, “And—and this is D. J-just D. He’s s-so cool he only needs one letter.”

Bo raised an eyebrow in the mirror.

D sighed low through his nose and gave Joey a side-eye that practically said Are you serious right now?

Joey just smiled at him and added, "He’s m-my... bodyguard." A nervous laugh. "With benefits."

D slowly turned his head toward him, one brow lifting.

Joey’s cheeks went red. “I-I mean, we’re, uh, we’re... travelin’ together.”

Bo’s grip on the steering wheel tightened a little, clearly uncomfortable. Dolly, on the other hand, cackled.

“Oh honey, I was young once too. Don’t bother me none.” She turned her twinkle-eyed gaze to D. “But what does the D stand for, sugar?”

D hesitated. It wasn’t like him to share. Not with strangers. Not with anyone. But then he looked at Joey—flushed, eyes lit up with admiration like D was the coolest thing he’d ever seen—and something inside him softened.

“…Darius,” he said finally, voice low and rumbling like distant thunder.

“Oh my g-god.” Joey practically melted, twisting in the seat to face him. “Th-that’s s-so—D, that’s s-so hot. Like. Movie star hot. You sh-should’ve told me sooner, I—I would’ve been calling you that in b-bed—”

D cut him a sharp look. Joey’s eyes widened.

“N-not that we—uh. N-nevermind.”

Bo cleared his throat so loud it could’ve been a warning shot, but Dolly let out a delighted laugh.

“Oh, my stars,” she said, waving a hand to fan herself. “Ain’t you two just somethin’.”

Joey beamed and D couldn’t help the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He stretched an arm behind him and rested it across his shoulders, a silent comfort.

Bo glanced up at them in the rearview mirror and blinked, clearly not sure what to make of what was happening in his truck. He cleared his throat a second time and adjusted his grip on the wheel. “You sure about this?” he murmured to his wife under his breath.

Dolly patted his leg. “Hush, they’re harmless. Just young. And sweet.”

Bo didn’t look convinced. “Sweet’s one word for it,” he grunted.

Joey looked entirely unbothered. “D d-doesn’t talk much,” he told them, leaning closer into D with a huge smile. “But he’s s-secretly a big s-softie. And he’s like… very p-protective. He’s been k-keeping me safe since we left Ohio.”

D sighed again, but there was no real heat to it.

Dolly smiled warmly “Ain’t nothing wrong with being soft for someone,” she said. “Bo still brings me coffee in bed every morning. Don’t let him fool ya.”

Bo grunted noncommittally, then turned the wheel onto a long gravel lane framed by fading split-rail fences and towering old trees losing their leaves. The road crunched beneath them, and golden flurries kicked up behind the tires as the truck rolled past cornfields cut low and stubbly, crows stalking the brown earth below.

“So,” he said, steering with a little extra purpose now, “you boys ever done farm work before?”

“I did a bit growing up,” D replied, settling back into the seat, his arm now loosely draped behind Joey’s shoulders. “Been a while though.”

Joey shook his head. “I-I haven’t. But I l-learn fast.”

“I can work with that,” Bo said. “Our grandson used to help out, but he’s off at some hoity-toity tech school now. Doesn’t give two shits about chickens or tomato beds.”

Dolly clucked her tongue. “Bo.”

“Well it’s true. Boy’d rather plug in a computer than fix a damn gate.”

“We’re behind on winterizing,” Dolly explained, shaking her head. “Leaves need raked and burned. The garden beds cleaned out; squash vines, tomato plants, weeds all need pulled. It’s not heavy lifting—just tedious.”

“I’ve got a shed full of old boots and flannel shirts,” Bo added. “Should be something in there to fit you both. And after y’all finish up, we’ll call it even for supper.”

Joey nodded eagerly. “T-thank you.”

“Just dinner,” Dolly warned, wagging a finger. “No promises beyond that, but I will feed you.”

The truck crested the last rise and the farm came into view. It wasn’t large, but it was picturesque in that weathered, storybook way. A modest white farmhouse with a wraparound porch sat nestled among trees bursting in autumn reds and oranges. The porch swing creaked gently in the wind, and windchimes clinked softly beside it. A gray cat lounged on the rail, blinking slowly like it had all the time in the world.

A red barn stood proud out back, its paint peeling, its roof dappled with fallen leaves. Chickens scurried along a fenced-in coop, while a handful of goats wandered the yard, nibbling on grass and fallen apples. Farther off, two lazy pigs sunned themselves near a trough.

D took it all in—the overgrown garden beds, the cluttered tool racks inside the barn, the sagging stretch of fence that would need fixing—and his instincts twitched. This was the kind of place where people worked with their hands. Where you earned rest. Where, if you weren’t careful, you could get too comfortable.

But Joey was already bouncing in his seat, pressed close to the window. “D, look,” he whispered. “C-chickens.”

D smiled down at the tousled little blond. “Yeah, baby. I see ‘em.”

Bo pulled the truck around a gravel loop and parked near the porch. The tires crunched to a stop. “Alright,” he said, shutting off the ignition. “Let’s get you boys something to wear and put you to work.”

D stepped out into the cool October air, the breeze already carrying the sharp bite of coming winter. Joey followed, still gawking at the scenery. A rooster crowed in the distance and the sharp tang of woodsmoke carried on the breeze, blending with the faint, earthy scent of animals and sun-warmed hay.

As they walked toward the shed with Bo, D slipped his hand against the small of Joey’s back and whispered, “Real smooth with the name drop, by the way.”

Joey blinked. “W-was that bad?”

“We’re not on vacation, sweetheart.”

Joey winced, then mumbled, “S-sorry. I f-forgot.”

D watched him—his messy hair, his nervous smile, the way he kept bouncing on his toes like he was ready for anything. Idiot. Sweet, stuttering idiot. He should’ve been furious about the name drop. But damn it, his heart was already halfway gone. He turned, brushing a stray lock of hair from Joey’s face. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

Joey turned pink, but his green eyes sparkled with happiness. “I—I know I’m lucky.”

And D looked away quickly, before Bo turned and caught the smile threatening to overtake his face. Joey was so damned adorable, he couldn’t stay mad at him.

The shed creaked open on tired hinges, releasing a draft of oil, dust, and old hay. Inside, sunlight slanted through warped wooden slats, catching motes in the air like slow-falling snow. Tools lined the walls on bent hooks—rusted, leaning, barely organized. A set of coveralls hung like deflated men from nails in the back corner next to a battered metal locker which stood open, its shelves crammed with old work gloves, folded flannels, and cracked rubber boots.

Bo stepped inside with them, nodding toward the back wall. “Boots’re in that crate. Clothes are in the locker there. Help yourselves,” he said, voice rough.

D gave a tight nod. Joey, however, looked like he’d stumbled into a costume shop.

“C-can I r-really wear this stuff?” he asked, already tugging a red-and-black flannel off a hanger. “It s-smells like f-firewood.”

“City boys always act like they’re dressing for a photoshoot,” Bo muttered. “This ain’t a boutique, kid.”

“I—I know,” Joey giggled, unfazed.

D bent at the waist and dug through the crate. Most of the boots were too big or cracked down the sides, but he found a pair of mud-caked work boots that might work for Joey. “Try these.”

Joey plopped down on an overturned bucket, kicked his tennis shoes off, then shoved his foot in. It slid forward with a thunk. “T-too big. I c-could go ice skatin’ in these.”

“They’ll keep the mud off,” D deadpanned.

He turned back toward the locker, yanking off his hoodie with one arm and folding it over the crate. The October chill slid against his bare arms, but he didn’t flinch. He grabbed the nearest flannel and tried it on.

No good. The buttons wouldn’t even come together across his chest.

Joey was already flushed. “W-wait. Try that one,” he said, pointing at a tight blue one hanging from a hook. “Y-you’ll look l-like a l-lumberjack. A really h-hot one.”

D raised a brow at him but took it anyway. He peeled off his black tee, and the air bit colder this time.

Bo, who had been pretending to check a coil of rope near the door, turned—and went completely still.

D’s torso was all sinew and scars. Crisscrossed white lines from a lifetime of bad jobs and worse fights. His left shoulder was dented slightly from an old break and the bandaged and still healing slash across his ribs was in plain sight. He wasn’t ashamed, but he didn’t like being stared at.

He caught Bo looking and stared right back.

Bo coughed, looked away, and said nothing.

D tugged the flannel on. The sleeves were too short and the fabric tugged tight across his shoulders, gaping slightly at the buttons. Joey made a strangled sound.

“What?” D asked.

Joey looked up at him like he’d just seen a religious vision. “Y-you’re g-gonna break th-that shirt,” he said, breathless.

D gave him a look. “Focus, Joey.”

Joey stood and held up the pants he’d picked—stiff canvas work pants, probably made for someone twice his size. He stepped out of his jeans and into the new pair while D tried not to look. The result was hilarious. The waist sat too high, the cuffs rolled up nearly to his calves, and the flannel sleeves swallowed his hands.

“I l-look like a s-scarecrow,” Joey proudly announced.

“You look like a twelve-year-old trying on his dad’s clothes.”

Joey grinned and straightened his shoulders. “A s-s-sexy twelve-year-old.”

D pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Bo, still near the door, gave a slight snort and muttered, “You boys done preenin’? This ain’t a fashion show.”

“We’re ready,” D said, smoothing his sleeves and stepping forward. He adjusted the belt around his borrowed pants and tried not to wince as the fabric tugged at an old scar.

Bo opened the shed door again, and sunlight flooded the small space. “Tools are behind the barn. I’ll show you.”

As they stepped out into the crisp air, the barn loomed ahead, red and dappled with falling leaves. Chickens scattered around the fence line, and in the distance, a pair of goats watched them like suspicious neighbors.

Joey leaned into D’s side as they walked. “You l-look good in f-flannel,” he whispered.

D didn’t respond—he just gave Joey’s hand a gentle squeeze as they followed Bo across the grass.

Bo gave them a quick tour of the tool rack behind the barn. Everything was mismatched and leaning—rakes, hoes, a crooked wheelbarrow that looked like it hadn’t been oiled in twenty years.

“Need these beds cleaned out,” Bo said, motioning to the garden just beyond the barn—dead tomato plants and crumbled squash vines twisted in the dirt. “Pile that stuff in the bin over there. We compost most of it. Rake the yard after. Leaves can go in the burn pile. Firepit’s at the edge of the fence line. Don’t burn anything green or wet or you’ll be smoked out.”

“Got it,” D said, eyeing the work. He’d seen worse.

Bo nodded, then jerked his chin toward the house. “If you need water, knock on the porch door. Dolly’ll fix you up. She’ll make you both a couple sandwiches once you get going.”

“Thank you,” D replied. Joey echoed the thanks brightly.

Bo hesitated, studying them again—especially D. His eyes lingered just a second too long before he finally gave a half grunt and walked off toward the barn.

The yard stretched long and wide, sloping gently down toward a scraggly treeline where the goats wandered lazily and leaves blew in curling amber spirals. Wind chimes on the porch played a few sleepy notes in the breeze. D could smell smoke on the air—someone nearby was already burning leaves. It was peaceful, but the stillness made him edgy.

D crouched by the garden bed, tugging up dead tomato vines by the handful. They came free with a satisfying rip, the soil still damp and clinging. He dropped them in the wheelbarrow with a grunt and moved on to the squash, careful of the brittle stems and sharp wire cages Bo had haphazardly left behind.

Over his shoulder, Joey raked steadily across the grass, tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth. His too-big flannel flapped around him like a flag, and the old boots swallowed his feet. He’d rolled the cuffs of his pants three times, but they still bunched around his ankles. He looked ridiculous.

D smiled to himself. And sweet.

Leaves danced around Joey’s feet as he raked, and he paused every so often to point something out—a ladybug crawling across the handle of the rake, a goat chewing on a porch cushion, a crow sitting high in the apple tree like it owned the whole valley.

“You like doing this?” D asked, straightening with a stretch, wiping his hand on his jeans.

Joey blinked up at him. His hair was a mess already from the breeze. “I-I g-guess so. I j-just raked my mom’s yard last week. Th-this one’s like, f-four times bigger though.”

D snorted softly and threw another bundle into the wheelbarrow. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Joey leaned on the rake, eyeing D curiously. “W-when’d you work on a farm? I-I thought you s-started running with gangs real y-young.”

D glanced over, surprised by the question. He thought for a second, then answered honestly. “My aunt had a farm. Not far from Cleveland. When I was a kid, she’d pick us up—me, my two brothers, and my sister— and let us stay for a few weeks every summer. Made us work, too. Mornings started at dawn. Chickens, stalls, garden, whatever needed done.”

“Y-your sister helped?” Joey asked, surprised, “My sister, S-S-Sara, would r-rather die than g-get her hands dirty.”

“Mine too,” D chuckled. “She whined a lot, so she got the easy chores.”

“C-classic sister move,” Joey said wisely, nodding.

“My brothers hated it, too. Bitched and moaned and dragged their feet as much as they could.” D snorted a little at the memory. “But not me. I liked it.”

Joey gave him a soft smile. “Y-you’re g-good at this kind of stuff.”

“Thought it was honest work, you know? You put in effort, you see results. I liked that part.” D looked away, returning to the vines. “We went a few years in a row before my aunt retired and sold it. Got herself a condo somewhere quiet.”

Joey pouted a little. “O-oh. I’m s-sorry.”

D shrugged. “That was the end of that. Haven’t stepped foot on a farm since.”

A breeze swept through, rustling the leaves into motion again. Joey raked another section, panting as he worked. “W-well, I like it here. It feels s-safe.”

D paused. His hand tightened around the handle of the wheelbarrow. “We just saw a trooper,” he said. “At the motel. And roadblocks. Doesn’t feel that safe to me.”

Joey’s face fell. “I-I didn’t think about that.”

D gave him a flat look. “I’d noticed…. You’ve been running your mouth a lot, Joey.”

Joey’s eyes got big. “Oh god. I—I told Bo and Dolly our real names. I said we w-were from Ohio—”

“You said we were fucking.”

“I—I was j-just…” Joey trailed off, raking a pile a little harder. “I was excited, okay? All this running and h-hiding—it’s g-getting to me. I f-feel antsy all the time. L-like if I don’t talk or laugh or move, I’m g-gonna go crazy.”

D didn’t say anything. Just watched him.

Joey kept fidgeting, eyes darting, shoulders tense. “I d-didn’t mean to mess up, I—I just—”

D crossed the space between them in two strides and grabbed Joey gently by the shoulders. “Hey.”

Joey froze. Looked up at him, blinking.

“You need to relax,” D said, his voice low and steady.

“I-I’m tr-trying—”

D pulled him closer, hands firm at his waist, and that shut Joey right up. His eyes went wide, breath catching. D leaned in, lips brushing his temple first—gentle—then slid lower, mouth ghosting over Joey’s before capturing it in a firm, wanting kiss.

Joey gasped softly, his hands clutching D’s shirt like he needed it to stand upright. D deepened the kiss, hands sliding up the back of Joey’s flannel, holding him tight against his chest. The taste of him—warm, sweet, familiar—was like fire in his blood. Joey melted against him, breath hot and shaky, his hips shifting closer until—

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

The burner phone buzzed in Joey’s back pocket and for a second, they both froze. Then, D pulled away like he’d been burned.

“Give it,” he said, instantly all steel and sharp again.

Joey blinked, dazed, then fumbled the phone out and handed it over.

D glanced at the screen. His jaw clenched.

Nina.

Of course.

He stepped back, exhaling through his nose. “Get back to work. I’ll be right back.”

Joey opened his mouth to speak, but D was already turning, already striding toward the barn and disappearing around the side for privacy.

The phone was still buzzing as he lifted it to his ear and answered. “Talk to me.”

“You fucked up, D.” Nina’s voice, sharp and low.

D didn’t respond right away.

“The whole state’s looking for you,” Nina went on. “You and the kid. There's an APB out in Ohio. The double murder’s on every station—‘wanted for questioning,’ they say, but we both know what that means.”

D exhaled through his nose. “How?”

“The crime scene at the motel. You used your card, you idiot. Then some Walmart security cam got you and the kid walking out together. Five minutes later that Nissan got jacked. They connected the dots.”

D swore under his breath. “I wasn’t thinking. I just—I was trying to keep him safe.”

“By dragging him into a car theft and two corpses? Yeah. Great job.” Nina’s tone cut like ice. “You’re not covering your tracks. Vinnie’s already got people sniffing for your blood. Now the cops are on you too. If the Feds get involved—”

“I know.”

Silence crackled between them.

“I know, alright? I’m not thinking straight,” D admitted finally. “I’m just… running. Joey’s…” He closed his eyes. “He’s distracting.”

There was a pause. Then: “Jesus Christ, D.”

D opened his eyes again, staring out across the brown hills and the chicken yard beyond.

“He’s going to get you killed,” Nina said coldly. “And when he does, I’ll be the one cleaning up what’s left—because they won’t. Vinnie’s already passed sentence. The others are just waiting for the bullet to land. You think anyone’s gonna shed a tear when you go down? They’ll say they saw it coming all along. That you lost your edge. That you died for a boy who wasn’t worth it.” Something shifted in her voice—lower, wounded. “You used to be better than this. You used to be careful.”

“Nina…that’s because he’s more than worth it. I—I think I’m falling in love with him,” D said it flat. Honest. And it landed like a rock through glass.

There was a beat of silence—too long.

“You’re not,” Nina said finally, bitter. “You’re infatuated. That’s all. He’s young. He’s innocent. He makes you feel needed. It’s not real.”

D said nothing.

“You have no idea what real is,” Nina snapped. “You don’t see what he’s doing to you—what you’ve already thrown away.”

“I see it,” D murmured. “And I’m not throwing anything away. I’m running toward something for once. Toward an actual future.”

“But what about our future?”

That stopped D short. “What?’

Nina’s voice cracked, just slightly. “You never even noticed, did you?” she said. “All those years. Everything I did for you. I’ve been standing in your corner since day one. But then Joey Balas shows up with a pair of sad eyes and suddenly you’re ready to burn the world down for him?”

D’s chest tightened. “Nina…”

“Don’t.” She cut him off. “Just—don’t.”

D looked down at the dirt. The battered boots Bo had lent him. The wheelbarrow he’d left against the garden fence. “We’re safe for now, at any rate,” he said after a long breath. “We…had some trouble this morning with a West Virgina statie, but we ditched the Nissan, caught a ride, got invited out to a farm. They’re giving us work. No questions yet.”

“How long’s ‘safe for now’ gonna last?”

“I don’t know. A day, maybe two, but after that—we move,” D said, voice low. “It’ll take us another day of driving to reach Leon’s place, and that lockbox is the only card we’ve got left to play. If the cops are coming after us now too, that evidence is the only thing standing between us and a bullet to the head—or a prison cell we ain’t ever walking out of.”

Another beat of silence.

“You really think Vinnie’s gonna let you get away with this?” Nina asked quietly. “He’s gunning for you, D. Telling anyone who’ll listen that you betrayed the family—made you the villain of the fucking decade.” She let out a harsh breath, every word soaked in resentment. “Joey’s nothing now. Just collateral damage. A name to cross off while they come for the real prize. You.”

D’s jaw clenched.

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground,” Nina said eventually, voice hardened again. “But you need to stop fucking up. Or you won’t make it to the state line, let alone South Carolina.”

“Understood.” A pause, then: “Thanks, Nina.”

Nina didn’t say goodbye. The line just went dead.

D stood there for a long moment, staring at the worn planks of the barn, wind tugging at the hem of his flannel, the phone cooling in his hand.

Bo had seen too much. D knew that. The man’s eyes were sharp. Suspicious. And D was tired of improvising.

He needed a backstory. Something simple. Believable. Familiar enough to pass casual scrutiny, but with just enough detail to shut down questions before they started.

South Carolina. The lockbox. It gave him a direction.

They were going South to visit their uncle, a close and beloved family member. Just the two of them, hitching their way down for the winter. No schedule. No plan at all really. Just a spontaneous surprise, something sentimental, something small-town. People liked that shit. It made them feel safe.

D was pretty sure he could sell it.

***

The rake felt too big in his hands, but Joey kept moving, piling leaves into uneven rows that kept scattering with every gust of wind. The yard was huge and the slope didn’t help. His boots were too big, his flannel kept slipping off one shoulder, and the cuffs of his jeans were wet with dew.

But still… he liked the work. His arms ached and his back was starting to sweat, but it felt honest. Safe.

Until D came back from the barn.

Joey looked up, rake pausing mid-sweep. D looked different somehow—not outwardly, not in the way he walked or held himself, but in his eyes. That cold stillness in his face had crept back in, and that always meant one thing: something was wrong.

“E-everything okay?” Joey asked, his voice tight.

D didn’t answer at first. He stepped close, warm hand brushing over the back of Joey’s head, smoothing down his wild hair like he was calming a spooked horse. Joey shivered beneath it.

“There’s a manhunt,” D said softly. “For us. State-wide.”

Joey blinked. “F-f-for us?” he whispered. The rake slipped from his fingers.

D caught his elbow and guided him around the side of the barn, out of sight of the house. His grip was firm but gentle, and Joey followed like he always did, heart hammering in his chest.

“They traced us,” D continued, voice low. “Credit card at the motel. Then the Walmart. We were caught on camera stealing that Nissan. Nina just called. Cops are looking. Vinnie’s looking. Everyone’s looking.”

Joey’s stomach dropped. “O-oh my god.” He pressed himself against the barn wall, dizzy. He could barely breathe.

“We’re not staying long,” D whispered. “But we need to lay low until the heat dies down. I’m gonna start feeding Bo and Dolly a story. We’re going south to visit our Uncle Leon. It’s a surprise. He doesn’t know we’re coming. That’s all we’re saying. Understand?”

Joey nodded quickly, but he couldn’t stop shaking.

Sighing, D pulled him close without warning and Joey gasped, his face landing against D’s chest, his cheek rubbing against the soft flannel stretched tight over D’s muscles. As D’s arms slid around him, Joey buried his face against him, clinging.

This was the only place that felt safe now.

Last night, Joey and D had made love for the first time. It hadn’t been full-blown sex, but it had been everything else. Intimate, raw, sweet. D had worshipped him with his hands and mouth, made him feel beautiful, made him feel wanted in a way Joey had never known he could be. And afterward, D had confessed, had said the actual words: I’m falling for you.

Joey hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. That word love had echoed in his chest all night. And now… now he wanted to say it back. He almost said it now.

But he couldn’t.

Some part of him was terrified that if he did, it would somehow cheapen everything. Or scare D. Or worse—that D would pull away. That he'd realize Joey was too much. Too soft. Too scared. Too attached.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Joey mumbled, trying to disappear into D’s chest. “I-I didn’t m-mean to tell Bo and D-Dolly so much. I j-j-just... I g-get excited. And a-all this r-running, it’s making me f-feel weird all the time. Anxious. A-and I wanna do better, I r-really do, I’m just—”

D shifted and gently pushed Joey back, just enough to tip his chin up. “I can feel it,” he murmured. “You’re doubting me.”

Joey’s breath hitched. “I-I’m not—”

“You’re stiff. Afraid. Apologizing for everything.”

“I—I just—” Joey bit his lip. “I d-don’t want to mess things up. I j-j-just…”

D’s eyes softened for a moment—just long enough for Joey to see it coming. Then, D leaned down and kissed him.

The second their lips touched, Joey’s whole body sank against D’s like a wave breaking on shore. The kiss was hot and desperate and perfect, and he kissed back with everything he had—pressing impossibly closer to D’s heat as his mouth parted under his, moaning softly when their teeth bumped.

His cock stirred, hot and hopeful. Just like last night. Just like it always did when D looked at him like this… His fingers curled into D’s shirt, tugging at it, urging D closer. He wanted more. He ached for more. Joey’s body was still humming with the aftershocks of last night and the memory of D’s voice—rough and low, whispering that he loved him—played on loop in his head.

I…love him, too, Joey thought helplessly. The words hit him like a sucker punch.

I love him. He knew it now. Knew it like he knew his own heartbeat. And suddenly, it felt terrifying.

Not because it wasn’t true—But because it was.

He closed his eyes tight, lips pressed to D’s as he shook through a combination of both pleasure and fear. He wanted to tell D the truth, he wanted to say those words. But they stuck in his throat. Saying them felt too… dangerous. Like it would pop the perfect bubble they were in.

Suddenly, D broke the kiss with a groan and rested his forehead against Joey’s.

Joey whimpered softly as D pulled back. His eyes fluttered open reluctantly.

“Goddamn,” D murmured, his thumb brushing Joey’s cheek, his voice half a laugh. “You’re gonna kill me, Blondie.”

Joey gazed up at him pink-faced and dazed. “I—” he tried to say something clever, but his brain was goo. His heart was fireworks. And the bulge in his jeans was not helping.

D just chuckled again, warm and quiet. “C’mon. Let’s finish the lawn. I’ll help.” He bent down, grabbed a second rake for himself, and passed Joey the one he’d dropped earlier.

Joey took it numbly. His lips were still tingling.

“We’ll rake a bit longer,” D said, already turning back toward the leaf piles. “Then knock on the porch. Dolly’ll have water and sandwiches.”

Joey nodded, his heart still hammering in his chest. He watched D work for a second, admiring the way he moved—fluid, controlled, powerful. Every inch of him was cut from stone, from his wide shoulders to the way his jeans hugged his thighs.

God, I want him again. Tonight. Please, tonight.

Joey bent and started raking, heart thudding.

“We didn’t do bad today,” D added, getting back into rhythm beside him. “After lunch, we’ll help ‘em tidy up the shed and barn. That place is a mess—tools everywhere. Also been looking at the fence. Might offer to patch it up. Clean the gutters too. If we do enough, we might buy another day here.”

Joey’s rake froze mid-pull.

Another day.

Joey glanced toward the porch. Dolly had said they were just staying for dinner… but the kind old woman had peeked out once already, her eyes crinkling like she thought they were cute. Maybe she’d let them stay. Maybe she already knew they needed a place. Maybe if they worked hard and looked helpless enough, she’d offer it herself. He could only hope.

And if she did…

He swallowed hard, face burning.

He would absolutely beg D to take him to bed again.

Joey smiled to himself and kept raking, cheeks flushed, body humming, hope blooming like wild clover in his chest.

Behind him, D shoveled another wheelbarrow of leaves toward the fire pit, silent and focused.

Joey didn’t say anything. He just looked up at the farmhouse porch, already imagining the warm light inside, the smell of food, and the possibility of more.

He swallowed again, throat tight as the revelation that he loved D back flooded back to mind. The words sat heavy in his chest, warm and electric and terrifying. He hadn’t meant to think it—but there it was. Clear as day.

I love him.

It felt real. Too real. And saying it out loud? That was a whole other level. D had already said he was falling—but what if Joey said it back too soon? What if it made things weird? What if it ruined it?

Joey chewed his lip and hunched his shoulders, raking faster now, like the motion would drown out his thoughts.

No. Not yet. He’d hold it in for now. Just a little longer. Even if it slipped out by accident. (And knowing Joey, it probably would.)

But maybe… maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

It was just after 2pm by the time they finished hauling the last wheelbarrow of leaves to the burn pile and tugging the final weeds from the edge of the garden. The sun had shifted, casting long golden stripes across the grass.

Joey wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his flannel. His arms ached in that satisfying, muscle-used kind of way. He was gross and dusty and sore—and kind of proud of it.

D glanced toward the house and nodded. “C’mon. Let’s go up.”

Joey followed, trailing slightly behind as they climbed the steps of the porch. The wooden slats creaked under their boots, and the air was thick with the scent of bread and something savory.

The moment they stepped up, Dolly came through the screen door like she’d been waiting.

“Perfect timing,” she said, carrying out a tray like something out of a dream—sweating glasses of iced tea, two bowls of what looked like potato soup with bacon on top, and a plate of thick sandwiches stacked high with meat, cheese, and sliced tomatoes. “Y’all must be starving.”

Joey’s stomach growled right on cue. “W-we are,” he said sheepishly.

But before he even touched the food, Joey spotted the gray cat lounging like royalty on the porch swing, a little squint-eyed beast with a half-torn ear and an air of absolute confidence. It blinked once at him, then closed its eyes like Joey wasn’t worth the energy.

Joey was instantly obsessed.

“C-can I sit w-with him?” he asked.

Dolly waved him over. “That’s Percy. He picks who he likes. But if he stays, you’re golden.”

Joey sat down slowly beside the cat, careful not to disturb him too much, and gently scratched behind his ear. Percy gave a single begrudging purr and settled in deeper, and Joey’s whole face lit up.

D took the chair next to the swing, one arm draped casually over the back. He picked up a sandwich and took a bite, his eyes never quite leaving Joey.

They sat together like that—Joey curled up on the swing with Percy and a bowl of soup in his lap, D beside him, eating slowly. Dolly pulled up a chair as well, folding a napkin in her lap.

“You boys are doing a fine job,” she said, sipping her tea. “Yard looks better than it has in weeks.”

“Thank you,” D said with a respectful nod. “We were thinking about tackling the barn and shed this afternoon. Tools are scattered. Might as well keep going while we’ve got daylight.”

“Oh, that’d be a blessing,” Dolly said warmly. “Bo keeps meaning to, but you know how men are.”

D took another bite of his sandwich. “And tomorrow, if it’s alright… I noticed your back fence is sagging. Could use some repairs. Gutter’s clogged too. Figured we could lend a hand there if we stuck around another day.”

Dolly gave him a look. “We’re not really in the habit of putting up strangers.”

Joey glanced at D as he shrugged a little.

“But,” he said, voice rumbling with confidence. “We aren’t like most strangers.”

Joey covered a smile with a spoonful of soup. That was smooth.

“I reckon you’re not,” Dolly said carefully, then she tilted her head. “So… what’s your story?” she asked, voice soft and curious. “Why no car? Y’all out of cash? You don’t strike me as the drifting type.”

Joey stiffened slightly. D didn’t miss it. He wiped his hands and said calmly, “We’re on our way south. Visiting family. An uncle of ours. It’s…a bit of a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Dolly said, raising a brow.

“Uncle Leon doesn’t know we’re coming,” Joey added quickly. “But we d-didn’t want to wait. We’ve both just been… restless. Figured we’d see the c-country a bit. Y-you know. Just us.” He smiled bashfully, then added, “W-we’ve never t-t-traveled together before. This is kinda our first… c-couple’s trip.”

D gave him a look.

Joey flushed but couldn’t help smiling. “It’s r-romantic.”

Dolly laughed. “I think it is. You boys got guts. Lord knows most young folks wouldn’t last a day without their phones and Uber and all that.”

“Well, we’ve got a phone,” Joey said helpfully. “B-but only one. And it’s old. I don’t even t-think it has i-internet.”

D subtly kicked his boot. Stop.

But Dolly just chuckled and waved a hand. “Y’all are charming. You’re sweet as can be, Joey. And he’s steady,” she nodded toward D. “You’re doing a good job out there. Might be a little unconventional, but we’ve had worse guests.”

Joey perked up. “So…?”

“I’ll talk to Bo,” she said, chuckling. “We’ve got a spare room at the back of the house. Private bath. It ain’t fancy, but it’s clean. Just one night.”

Joey looked at D, trying to play it cool. D gave him the smallest smile.

“We can talk about payment later,” Dolly went on. “Y’all’ve already done a day’s worth, far as I’m concerned. But there’s plenty more around here needs doing. Fixing that shed door. Pressure washing the siding. We’ll figure something out.”

Joey beamed. “Th-thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me,” she said, standing. “Eat up, then get back to work before I change my mind.”

And so, they did.

Joey and D sat there in the warm sun, eating soup and sandwiches while Percy curled tighter against Joey’s hip, a warm little anchor. The iced tea was sweet, the bread was soft, and the bacon in the soup made Joey close his eyes in pleasure.

For a second—just a second—he could almost forget they were fugitives. They were just two guys, dirty from yard work, eating on a porch beside a cranky old cat, soaking in kindness like it was sunlight.

When they finished up and cleared the dishes, Joey gave Percy one last rub between the ears and whispered, “Wish me luck.” The cat yawned again.

Then, back to work.

They returned to the barn and shed, starting to sort through the chaos of tools, cracked buckets, and half-empty feed bags. Joey felt like he could float. It wasn’t the work—it was the way everything was falling into place.

They were staying. In a house. Together.

And if he played his cards right, maybe D would teach him more about sex tonight.

Hell, maybe Joey would even tell him he loved him. Maybe.

If he didn’t chicken out first.

By the time the sun slipped behind the trees, Joey’s flannel was soaked through with sweat and dust. His hands were scratched from dragging wood, but they didn’t sting. They just felt… useful. For once.

After lunch, he and D had cleaned up the barn and the shed, working like a two-man crew on a mission. Joey had gotten into it, organizing tools by size and type, tossing rusted junk in a bin, unspooling tangled cords with quiet determination. When D had started fixing the warped barn door, Joey had jumped in with a few suggestions—casual at first, then more confident when D nodded and actually used them.

Joey didn’t brag, but he knew he was good at this kind of stuff. He’d done jobs like this with Josh before—days of hauling, hammering, measuring planks with cigarette butts tucked behind their ears. It felt weirdly good to be in control of something again. To know where a bolt went. To hear D say, “Good eye,” after he pointed out the warped hinge on the upper doorframe.

They’d even managed to throw in some basic winterizing before dinner, checking for drafts, shoring up the old window panes, and plugging a few leaks with salvaged caulk.

By the time Dolly called them in, the barn looked like it had remembered it was loved.

Inside, the farmhouse kitchen smelled like heaven.

Rich stew, warm bread, something buttery and savory Joey couldn’t name—it all hung in the air like a hug you could eat.

It was the kind of space that made Joey ache with nostalgia—wood-paneled walls, yellow light from an old dome fixture, a big square table covered in a red-checkered cloth. A pot of stew simmered on the stove, filling the room with the scent of onions, beef, and garlic. A cast iron skillet sat in the middle of the table, cornbread still steaming inside, golden and perfect.

Joey carried the stack of plates Dolly handed him, carefully setting the table. D followed with the silverware. Bo pulled out the chairs with a grunt and sat down last, already buttering a piece of cornbread before anyone else had touched theirs.

“Alright now,” Dolly said cheerily as she ladled stew into bowls. “You boys like music? What do you listen to on the road?”

Joey smiled as he sat down. “I l-like old stuff. N-nineties. Some country.”

D gave a half-smirk. “Joey’s been playing with the radio for the past two days. Pretty sure he likes anything with a sad guitar and whiny lyrics.”

Joey nudged him under the table, cheeks going pink. He was slightly pleased though, that D had noticed.

“Well, I like anything with flavor,” Dolly said with a laugh, setting down the last bowl. “So y’all better tell me if it needs salt.”

“It’s perfect,” D said after the first bite, wiping his mouth politely.

Joey nodded, his spoon already halfway to his mouth again.

The food was amazing—rich stew, soft bread, honey-butter smeared on top like gold. He ate quietly, eyes flicking now and then to D, who sat straight and calm, eating neatly but never looking away for too long. His gaze kept drifting to Joey. It wasn’t obvious, but Joey could feel it.

Every time Joey reached for something, D’s eyes followed the motion. Not tense. Just watchful and the slightest bit possessive.

Dolly kept the conversation going, asking if they could cook (“I can make b-breakfast,” Joey said proudly. “And I make a mean microwave meal,” D finished with a laugh) and what routes they were taking south.

D was vague, not wanting to give them an exact destination and luckily, Joey stuck mostly to the story: “G-goin’ to see our uncle. H-he d-don’t know we’re comin’. It’ll be a h-huge surprise.”

Dolly just nodded along, listening with a polite attention.

But Bo… Bo watched.

He didn’t talk much. Didn’t joke. He just chewed slow, eyes narrowed, like he was measuring the truth in every word. His gaze lingered on D’s arm when he reached for the salt. The fabric of D’s shirt stretched tight over his bicep, and when he moved, the faint shape of the bandage across his ribs was visible through the flannel.

Joey felt it before it happened.

Bo put his fork down loudely and for a second, the room slowed.

“You boys keep sayin’ you’re just passin’ through,” Bo said suddenly, voice low, steady as his eyes turned to land on D. “Visitin’ family and all. But I saw you earlier in the shed. Shirt off. That bandage on your ribs… that one’s fresh.”

Joey’s heart stuttered. D didn’t move.

“I’ve seen scars before,” Bo went on, not hostile—just sharp. “Seen men come through with somethin’ to hide. So tell me: if you’re just a couple of harmless boys on the road… how’d you get so carved up?”

The silence stretched. Even Dolly froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth.

D calmly wiped his mouth with his napkin. His voice was smooth, even. “I used to work security up until about a week ago. Downtown Cleveland. Big venue, nasty crowds. Broke up a fight a few days back, caught the wrong end of a broken bottle. Got a few old injuries from before that too.” He set the napkin down. “That life chews you up.”

Joey swallowed hard. Then added quickly, eyes wide and earnest, “H-he saved me, too. Just the other day. Some guy had a knife. D got b-between us. I—I thought he was gonna d-die, but he just—he always does that. Protects me.” He smiled, small and bashful. “H-he’s kinda my hero.”

Dolly let out a soft “Ohhh,” her face melting into something tender.

Bo, though, squinted—hard eyes flicking between the two of them.

D met that look head-on. “You’re right to ask,” he said quietly. “This is your home and that’s your wife, there… I’d do the same. But we’re not trouble, Bo. Just trying to get where we’re going.”

Another long pause.

Then Dolly patted Bo’s hand. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think they’ve been more help than harm. Barn’s already lookin’ better than it has in a decade.”

Bo grumbled something under his breath, then finally nodded.

“One night,” he said. “You finish the fence and gutters tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

Joey exhaled so hard he almost laughed.

D gave a small nod, his eyes flicking toward Joey in quiet relief.

Crisis averted.

For now.

After dinner, D mentioned he wanted a smoke and Joey toddled after him like a puppy, Bo following grumpily to do the same.

The air outside had cooled with the sunset. The porch creaked gently under their feet, and the old gray cat had returned to its favorite chair, curled like a loaf with one eye half-open. A single bulb buzzed over the screen door, casting the whole porch in a hazy amber light.

Bo leaned against the railing, smoking silently. The curl of his cigarette glowed red, then dulled again. He didn’t speak much—just watched the woods beyond the field like he expected something to crawl out of them. Or maybe just like he was thinking too hard.

Joey didn’t care either way.

He was on the porch swing beside D, knees drawn up, back pressed into the armrest, rocking slowly. The swing creaked and bumped with every sway. D was beside him, calm as ever, long legs stretched out, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wood.

And Joey wanted to scream.

Dolly had said she’d show them to their room as soon as they came back inside. But D was dragging it out—taking his sweet, sweet time smoking his cigarette and watching the stars come out.

Joey fidgeted. Then elbowed D in the arm, softly.

D didn’t even blink. “What.”

Joey whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “S-s-stop d-dragging your feet.”

D exhaled, smoke curling from his lips. “Why? You in a rush?”

Joey’s jaw dropped. He slapped a hand over his own face, groaning. “Y-you’re the w-worst.”

D chuckled. Not loudly—more of a low, smug vibration in his chest.

Bo turned to glance at them. His face was unreadable, but his mouth twitched like he was trying not to frown.

Joey kicked D lightly in the shin. “Just…h-hurry up!”

Another drag. Another silence.

Then, finally, Bo flicked the stub of his cigarette into the gravel and said, “Well. I’m hittin’ the sack. Don’t break the swing.” He turned and went inside with a sigh, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like “damn kids.”

The screen door slapped shut behind him.

And D was on Joey in an instant.

He shifted on the swing, turned, and reached, hands sliding up Joey’s thighs like he’d been waiting all damn day. Joey gasped, breath catching hard as D pulled him forward, off-balance—right into his lap.

“You little brat,” D murmured, teeth brushing Joey’s ear. “You’ve been twitchin’ like a rabbit since dinner.”

“B-because y-you’re evil,” Joey whispered back, straddling him. “You k-know what I w-want and you’re m-making me w-wait.”

D kissed him then—hard and fast, stealing the rest of the sentence from his mouth. Joey melted instantly, hands clutching D’s shoulders, tongue greedy meeting D’s. Then, D’s arms wrapped tight around him, one hand sliding under his borrowed flannel to stroke his spine through his thin t-shirt.

Joey moaned into his mouth. “Take me inside,” he begged, half-laughing, half-serious, rocking forward. “D, p-please—”

D didn’t answer. He stood. Just like that. Like Joey weighed nothing.

Joey yelped as D picked him up bridal-style and carried him off the porch. “D—D!”

“I told you,” D muttered, grinning like the devil. “You rush me, I’ll make a scene.”

“You are the scene!” Joey kicked once, but clung tighter as D carried him through the front door like a stolen prize.

The farmhouse was dim and quiet, warm with the smell of leftover stew and woodsmoke. D set Joey down in the front hall, kissed his forehead quickly—too quickly—and then led him down the hallway, back toward the kitchen.

Joey followed, breathless.

Dolly was there, drying her hands on a towel. She looked up as they entered—her eyes immediately going from D’s flushed face to Joey’s mussed hair and blushing cheeks. Her brows lifted. “Oh,” she said, clearly understanding everything. “Well then.”

Joey nearly died. “Y-your h-hospitality is... amazing,” he blurted, trying to pull his flannel straight.

Dolly laughed, flustered but kind. “Come on then,” she said, shaking her head. “Before you embarrass yourselves worse.”

She led them down a short back hallway and opened a narrow door near the laundry room. Inside was a cozy little guest room—small, but private. A handmade quilt on the bed. A tiny dresser. A braided rug and the faint smell of cedar. A second door led to a snug little bathroom with clean towels already folded on the rack.

“I’ll let you two settle in,” Dolly said briskly. “You’re lucky Bo’s half-deaf at night.” She paused, looked at them again, and then left without another word.

Joey stepped into the middle of the room, heart pounding.

D shut the door behind them.

And the tension in the air snapped taut.

For a long moment, they just stood there—alone, quiet, the soft tick of the clock on the dresser filling the space between their breaths. The room smelled faintly of cedar and clean linen, and the bed looked too perfectly made, like it hadn’t been touched in years.

Joey’s heart pounded. His fingers trembled a little, not from fear, but from how badly he wanted this. How badly he wanted D.

D’s dark eyes stayed on him, steady. Watching. Measuring. His expression unreadable, but heavy with something hot, something slow and coiled.

Joey shifted his weight, suddenly very aware of his own body, how warm he felt. How tight his jeans had gotten.

D crossed the room in two steps. He reached out, cupped Joey’s jaw with one hand, thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Still impatient, baby?”

Joey swallowed. Nodded.

“Mm.” D leaned in, breathing him in. “You’ve been giving me those fuck-me eyes since lunch.”

“I w-was n-not,” Joey mumbled, breath hitching as D’s thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

“You absolutely were.” D’s voice was low, indulgent. “Don’t even try to lie to me.”

Joey’s face went red. “I—I j-j-just—”

D kissed him before he could finish, swallowing the excuse like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t.

The kiss deepened fast. D’s tongue slid between his lips like it belonged there, and Joey gasped, clinging to him. The flannel on D’s chest was soft and damp with sweat—he hadn’t showered after working in the barn. His skin was warm, musky. Rough in all the right places.

And Joey wanted more of it.

His hands fumbled, clumsy, pulling at buttons. D grunted into the kiss, let him work, let him pull the flannel loose—careful when it caught on the bandaging at his ribs. Joey slowed, fingers brushing the fabric there.

A reminder.

That D had taken a blade for him. Had bled for him.

Joey looked up, eyes wide. “Does it—d-does it hurt?”

D gave a soft grunt. “Only when I breathe.”

Joey pouted. “You always g-g-gotta act so tough.”

D smirked. “You like me tough.”

“I like you,” Joey whispered, then hesitated. His chest burned with the weight of it. And before he could stop himself, he whispered: “Darius…”

The name was soft, reverent. Like a prayer. He wasn’t even sure why he said it—just that it felt right.

And God, it shattered D.

The heat in D’s eyes turned molten. His breath caught. One second, Joey was standing—the next, D had pushed Joey back onto the bed with both hands, standing over him, eyes dark and stunned.

“Nobody calls me that,” D murmured hoarsely.

Joey, lying beneath him, blinked up. Breathless. Flushed. “I-it’s your name.”

“You say it like it means something.”

“It does.”

That broke something loose.

D stripped his flannel the rest of the way off, revealing that deep brown skin. His body was a damn statue. Cut and powerful. The bandage on his ribs only emphasized how real he was. How dangerous. How good.

Joey’s throat went dry. His cock was already throbbing, and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. “You’re g-gorgeous,” he said helplessly, eyes wide.

D just looked down at him like he was something fragile. Precious. “You know what you do to me?” he asked.

Joey shook his head, overwhelmed.

D’s voice dropped, rough and low. “You totally undo me.” He kicked off his jeans and briefs in one motion, stepping fully out of them, then stood over the bed—naked, powerful, perfect. His cock hung proudly between his thighs, the dark pink head getting thick with arousal as the impressive length grew to it’s full size.

Joey’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

And then D whispered: “Sit up, Joey.”

Joey sat up immediately. His chest rose and fell, heart slamming against his ribs. He didn’t know if he was about to cry or come. Maybe both. He just stared at D’s huge cock as it got hard for him. He didn’t know what to do next.

“Open your mouth, baby,” D said softly, reaching up to push Joey’s messy blond hair out of his face. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, cupping his cheek next, thumb caressing the corner of his mouth. “About you sucking my dick.”

Joey whined a little and his own cock, trapped between his thighs, lurched with arousal at the very idea of it. D rubbed his bottom lip, urging him to open his mouth and Joey did so with a groan.

D was gentle but insistent as he slid his big cockhead along Joey’s parted lips. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with lust but edged with a calm precision, and totally overwhelmed with love and affection for him, Joey opened his mouth even wider, letting D’s cock slide past his lips without thought, trusting him, letting D fill his mouth and rest heavily on his tongue.

“That’s good, baby,” D murmured, caressing Joey’s bulging cheek and lips in awe. “Now, get the head nice and wet and suck.”

Joey moaned again, his lips stretched wide around D’s fat length. He had the head and maybe the first three inches of shaft in his mouth, but there was so much more to go. Joey felt intimidated by the sight of it and he let his eyes flutter closed as he followed instructions and clumsily began to lick and suck D’s cock.

D hummed appreciatively as Joey explored him with his mouth. He slid fingers through Joey’s soft hair, stroked his cheeks, gently traced his lips, encouraging him with his sounds and touch. He was patient. He didn’t push. He was content watching Joey slurp on his cock.

Joey had taken D’s advice very seriously and his dick was super wet with his saliva. So wet, Joey had to grab onto the root of D’s cock to hold him in place, so he could keep sucking the head and the first half of shaft. D was really big, but focusing on the tip was helping. Joey flicked his tongue along D’s cockhead, learning the shape and the feel of it. He practiced sucking, too, tightening his lips around the shaft as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked hard.

D definitely approved. He held Joey’s face like he was a treasure, watching him with deep adoration in his dark eyes. Joey felt loved, appreciated, and it only added to his arousal. Slowly, he started to move his head up and down, keeping his lips firm around D’s shaft, his tongue pressed into the vein pulsing along the sensitive underside. He closed his eyes and hummed, enjoying D’s deep, musky taste, the smell of his sweat, the feel of D holding him with care. Without really thinking about it, he reached down and started to touch himself.

D groaned as Joey pleasured them both. His dick twitched strongly in Joey’s hand and Joey pushed himself to go faster, sucking D and stroking his own super hard cock at the same time. A warm, salty taste coated the back of his tongue. Precome. And knowing D was getting close, that he could actually taste it, made Joey shudder with satisfaction. He liked this. He liked having D in his mouth. It was hot.

Just as he thought it, D pulled away with a grunt. Joey sat back with a little gasp, licking his lips in surprise, but then D shoved him back on the bed.

Joey whimpered as the older man climbed on top of him and cupped his cheek again with a single, large hand.

“God, Joey, you’re so fucking beautiful,” D purred, then he tilted Joey’s chin up and lunged down to catch his lips.

Joey immediately wrapped his arms around D, gasping wetly into the kiss as his hips arched up into D’s with a mind of their own. When his hard, aching cock brushed D’s, he cried out, clinging to D even harder.

Still kissing Joey, D reached down with his free hand and gathered their cocks in a strong grip. He squeezed their needy flesh together and started to move his hand and Joey whined at the delicious sensation. His legs slid up around D’s hips and he bucked his cock into his hand, so desperate to come, it hurt.

“Darius…oh god,” he moaned against D’s lips, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids as he got closer to the end. D seemed to sense it. He sucked Joey’s bottom lip and sped up his movements, kissing Joey again and again until he came with a helpless little cry, his arms and legs tightening around D’s strong body as he shook through his orgasm.

D kissed and sucked Joey’s lips until it was over, then he released Joey’s spent dick and finished himself with a grunt, coming hotly all over Joey’s quivering belly.

Joey lay boneless on the quilt, dazed and flushed, catching his breath as his heart pounded somewhere in his ears. His belly was sticky with come, and his limbs still trembled a little from release, but he didn’t care. His body felt… ruined in the best way. Stretched thin and full of light. Like he might start crying from how good he felt.

D had already slid out of bed and padded quietly into the bathroom. Joey heard water running. A moment later, he returned with a clean towel, eyes softer than before.

“Don’t move,” D murmured.

Joey didn’t. He just watched.

D crouched beside the bed and began to wipe him down, slow and gentle, using the warm side of the towel. He was careful around the most sensitive spots, brushing Joey’s flushed skin with patient reverence. Joey watched the movements of his hands, the way D bit the inside of his cheek when he concentrated, and his own chest tightened.

“You okay?” D asked, not looking up.

Joey nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

“You were amazing,” D said quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “You… surprised me.”

Joey swallowed, emotions building too fast to hold back. He felt it climbing—guilt, fear, adoration, the aching thing that had been growing inside him since they met. Something fragile and huge.

And then it just slipped out.

“I love you.”

D froze, the towel still in his hand.

Joey’s breath caught. His face flushed red with panic, but he didn’t take it back.

He had been scared to say it. Scared it would break something. Scared it would make it too real.

But right now? Stretched out on this old quilt, in this borrowed room, with D watching him like he mattered more than anything?

It didn’t feel scary anymore.

It felt safe.

D didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at him, like he couldn’t believe Joey had finally said it.

Then he smiled—quiet and slow.

“About time,” he murmured, voice thick.

Joey gave a watery little laugh.

“I love you, too, Joey. You know that.”

It wasn’t a surprise. D had said it before. More than once. He never took it back.

And Joey knew it. He felt it. He accepted it with his entire being.

D tossed the towel toward the hamper, then crawled into bed behind him and wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling Joey back into the curve of his body.

Joey settled into him with a sigh. He felt small there. Protected. He could hear D’s heartbeat at his back.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow,” D said, voice already slowing with sleep. “You better get some rest.”

Joey didn’t answer.

He just stayed still, letting D hold him, watching the ceiling while his thoughts spun in slow circles. Feeling his own chest ache with how full it felt.

Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, Joey felt… safe.

But he couldn’t stay in that feeling.

Not all the way.

Not until he made one phone call.

He’d seen a landline in the Hargrove family room earlier and once he was sure D was asleep… he was going to sneak out and try to call home.

Joey waited a long time, lying beside D, his heart too full to sleep. D’s breath was slow and deep against the back of his neck, one heavy arm slung over his waist. Safe. Comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Because now the world outside felt even further away—but it was still there. Waiting.

Joey eased out from under D’s arm, slow and quiet, wincing every time the floor creaked beneath his feet. D didn’t stir. Just shifted slightly and exhaled.

Joey grabbed his flannel, tugged it over his head, and padded down the dark hallway.

The farmhouse was silent. Warm. Heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and the last hints of stew.

Joey’d seen it earlier: the landline phone in the family room. Cream-colored. Coiled cord. Mounted to the wall near an old bookshelf.

He crept into the room and picked it up, heart already pounding. He pressed in the numbers he knew by memory.

Linda’s cell.

It rang once. Twice. Four times.

No answer. Just the grating buzz of voicemail and Joey hung up fast—like hearing the message would hurt more than the silence.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenched.

For a minute, he hesitated, then, he tried the only other number he could remember.

Josh.

It barely rang once before the familiar voice answered, rough and confused.

“Hello? Who the hell is this?”

Joey took a breath. “It’s m-me.”

A pause. Then, “Joey?”

Joey’s chest clenched. “Y-yeah.”

“The fuck? Where you callin’ from?” Josh asked. “Some out-of-state number?”

Joey glanced at the wall. “I-it’s a landline.”

“No shit.” Josh snorted. “Well, damn. We thought you were dead or in a ditch or somethin’. I found that envelope you left in the Wally’s parking lot, by the way. I already had the address, so I delivered it for you.”

Joey blinked. “You—w-wait, you delivered it?”

“Yeah, dumbass. I figured you bailed, so I finished the job. Ronnie paid me, but he was real interested when I told him you took off with some guy. Said it was weird. Asked a lotta questions.”

Joey’s stomach turned. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I told him the truth! You ran off with some dude. All serious-like. Tall, built, looked older. That guy, what’s his name? Fucking asshole sucker punched me, and you were just staring at him like you wanted to marry his ass.”

Joey flushed. “J-Josh—”

Josh laughed. “Holy shit. You did run off with him. You are gay!”

Joey stayed quiet.

Josh kept going. “Man, I told ‘em. I told Mom, Dad, everyone. I was like, Joey’s always been weird, but now he’s out here givin’ blowies behind gas stations or somethin’. They didn’t believe me. But I knew.”

“Shut up,” Joey muttered, voice tight.

“I mean, damn,” Josh continued, still amused, “isn’t that gross, dude? Like, I don’t judge or nothin’, but come on. Dicks? That’s what you’re into?”

“I’m h-happy,” Joey snapped, glaring at the floor. “You c-can’t ruin that.”

Josh paused. “...Whatever,” he said finally. “Since you’ve been gone, Ronnie’s been asking me to do your deliveries. He’s paying pretty well, so I’m doing alright, too.”

“G-good for you.” Joey rubbed his face, sighing. Of course Josh was doing runs for Ronnie again. He was always so opportunistic.

“Mom’s been worried,” Josh continued flatly. “I’ll tell her you called, but you should talk to her yourself.”

Joey nodded slowly. “I—I just tried c-calling.”

“Well, try again tomorrow. You scared her, man. She’s not mad, just worried.”

Joey bit the inside of his cheek. “I w-will.”

Josh let out a sigh. “Alright, well… stay safe or whatever. Tell your boyfriend he owes me for that knock out.”

“H-he didn’t m-mean it, Josh,” Joey said awkwardly. “He was just…f-frustrated with the situation.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Josh laughed, brushing it off. “And hey—” he hesitated. “Just… don’t do anything that weird, alright? Like, keep the sex stuff away from public parks or whatever.”

Joey gasped. “Oh my God, shut up!”

Josh cackled and hung up.

Joey stood there, beet red, heart pounding, staring at the phone like it had personally betrayed him.

He stood there for a long second, heart racing, the quiet of the farmhouse pressing in all around him.

He hadn’t told Josh anything. Nothing important. Nothing that could trace him. Still… the fact Ronnie knew he’d run off with someone was bad. He’d talked to Vinnie personally, after all.

Joey turned, walking back toward the guest room. One foot in front of the other.

Linda hadn’t answered. Josh didn’t care. Ronnie probably knew what was going on but he was keeping quiet. And Vinnie’s men were still watching the family house.

Joey was still worried.

But Darius was asleep in their bed, waiting for him. And that was the only thing that mattered right now.

Joey stepped back into the room and shut the door softly behind him. They really did have a lot of work to do in the morning. He figured he’d better get some sleep.