Last Light

by Claire Kent

He’s got to be over thirty—based on his appearance and what I know of his history—and he’s not a particularly handsome man. His features are strong and rough, and his light brown hair is unkempt. His face is dirty and so are his jeans and the shirt he’s wearing—a gray T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. But he’s got a lean, straight body with broad shoulders and good definition in his arms—the kind that comes from use rather than weight lifting.

Daddy

Travis gestures with his head toward the Jeep he was driving. I know what he’s saying. He’s telling me to get in. He doesn’t even say the words. Just makes the slight sideways motion of his head.

Hot

he grunts with what I assume is approval. I still haven’t seen the man smile.

“My ex-wife is at Fort Knox right now.” I can hear in his voice that he’s afraid for her.

no

He doesn’t turn to look at me as he mumbles something incoherent. “That was just a multisyllable grunt.”

He makes one of those odd, soft snorts I’ve heard from him once or twice before.

Travis is staring at me. His eyes focus on my face and then travel down. His shoulders stiffen. His cheeks flush slightly. He takes a weird little breath as his gaze makes another quick detour down my body.

He’s scowling more dramatically than I’ve ever seen him as he turns his back to me.

My eyes land unerringly on the broad expanse of man-chest offered to my view. It’s a very fine chest. And his abs are flat and lightly defined. He’s got a scattering of blondish chest hair that I really like the looks of, and a thin white scar runs from his right armpit down toward his belly button.

My boobs and my hair. Those are the only things I really have going for me in the looks department.

“A grunt is not a promise. Promise me.” “Damn, girl, you’re stubborn. Fine. I promise.”

After several minutes, I adjust my head to see what Travis is doing, and I catch him turning away from me. I wonder what he’s thinking.

“Sing it again.” I’m surprised by his blunt words, and my eyes fly over to his face again. His expression is unreadable, but he’s meeting my gaze now. “Sing it again,” he says, his tone gentling to almost a plea.

When I come back, Travis is still sleeping, but he’s tossing slightly like he has unconsciously sensed something’s different. I settle myself on the rock again, and one of his hands reaches out toward my foot. His fingers wrap lightly around my ankle. I check his face, but he’s still asleep. I don’t pull my foot away. He holds on to my ankle for the rest of the night.

He’s locked up tight again. It’s ridiculous, but I miss him.

Without thinking it through, I throw my arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t return it. Not immediately anyway. He stands stiffly as my arms wrap around him, and then slowly his hands move up to rest lightly on the back of my ribs.

He’s staring down at me, his eyes appearing very blue. And the corners of his mouth are tilted up just slightly.

“I have a man,” I say without thinking. “She’s got a man.” The voice follows on the heels of mine. Lower. Gruffer. Louder. Travis.

AAAAHHHHHH

he steps over and puts a hand on my shoulder. It feels significant. Possessive. Like he’s staking his claim.

“I mean what I say. Men can’t make it now without women any more than women can make it without men. We need each other.” He clears his throat and avoids my eyes. “I need you. Like you need me.”

“You think I’d’ve done nearly as good this week without you? You think of things I don’t. You’re better at finding houses with food and gas. You… you make things nice. I might not have even kept going if not for you, especially if we didn’t have that message. You make me…”

Travis turns his head, and both his gaze and his jaw soften. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll help you.”

I roll my hips, pushing them backward. I feel something new. Against my lower back.

ERMAHGERD

That pulsing between my legs is stronger than ever, and it’s making my body do things I never would have considered otherwise. I raise my hips until my bottom finds that bulge in his jeans. I rub myself against it, making a weird little sound in my throat.

GIRRLLLLL

But sex means something to Travis. I know it does. He doesn’t take it casually.

Mm

“Uh, you need any of this stuff?” I straighten up and peer over to see what Travis is holding. A box of tampons. He’s not meeting my eyes.

Aww

I secretly smile as he drops the box of tampons like it might bite him and strides toward the middle of the store. He’s quite adorably shy about certain things in a way I never would have expected.

“You didn’t see any deodorant, did you?” I call out. He grunts. I look over. “Was that a yes grunt or a no grunt?” “No. Haven’t seen any.” He scowls.

AAWWW

I step over a pile of feminine-hygiene products and nearly kick a box of condoms. I stare down at it. I almost—almost—reach down and take it. I’d like to have sex. I’d like to have sex with Travis.

TAKE IT

Travis is different. I want to have sex with him because I want sex. With him.

I am fine. Sex simply isn’t a priority right now. And it doesn’t matter that the irony is bitterly amusing. A virgin at the end of the world.

My compliment is rather begrudging but sincere. He snorts softly.

Travis laughs too. A real laugh. And he’s smiling like I’ve never seen him before. We still have more candy to eat. And I’m happy. For that moment, I’m happy.

It’s almost morning when I wake up next, and we’re snuggling again. Travis is spooning me, the hard, hot lines of his body pressed against my back. I open my eyes and realize we’re on my side of the bed this time, which means he’s the one who rolled.

Travis is hard. Really hard. His erection is poking into my bottom.

He shifts in his sleep, making a little thrust against my ass. I have to bite back a moan of pleasure at the sensation.

AAYYOOO

I stay completely still and listen. And soon I hear something new. It’s soft, muffled, barely noticeable. But it’s something. A weird, rhythmic slapping sound.

TRAVISSSW

Without thinking, I slip a hand down under the waistband of my leggings until I can reach my clit. I rub it in fast, hard circles, hiding my heavy breathing in a pillow. I can hear Travis. He’s still working away in there. And so am I.

Then there’s another sound. One I don’t even recognize. It’s like a growl. Like a wild animal. But it isn’t. It’s Travis.

Bork

“I shoulda come sooner. I’m sorry. I knew you were takin’ too long. I shoulda…” His accent always gets stronger when he’s upset.

His eyes are searching and so gentle. “Can I do anythin’?” “I’m okay.” “Are you?” “I’ll be okay.” “I know you will.” He clears his throat. “You want me to… to…” “To what?” “Hold you. Or somethin’.”

AAWWW TRAVISSSSS

He’s reading my book of poems,

he was grabbin’ you all over. He hit you. I saw’m knock you down. He coulda—” His face is perfectly composed, but his accent is so thick that my empty stomach twists. He’s still really upset.

“Not goin’ on your own,” he says. “Anywhere. Not anymore. I was tryin’ to give you space before. Be… respectful. Not crowd you. But that ends now. I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight.”

I sit with my back to a tree, my gun ready at my side, as Travis sleeps at my feet. At one point he reaches out to hold on to my ankle the way he did a few nights ago. I don’t pull away.

I smile at him, and he almost smiles back.

When he gets wet, the cotton of his underwear clings. I can see every line of his body. The strong columns of his thighs. The tight curves of his ass. The firm contours of his arms and shoulders. His body is more than attractive. It’s powerful. Alive.

As I’m pressing the bandages in place, I’m suddenly aware of how close I’m standing. I can feel the warmth of him. Smell the mostly clean scent of him. His body is tight, stiff. But it’s real and male and right next to me.

I glance down at his body. The fabric of his boxers is tented. He’s hard. A throbbing awakens between my legs.

He cups my bottom over my panties and pulls me closer, fitting me between his legs. Then he takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue.