Flanked

was accurate. That’s how Peter had come to Flights of Fantasy in the first place. Poor kid, how horrible it must have been, his parents murdered and him sold off to a whorehouse. “Peter, you doing okay?”
A sniffle. Another. Peter cleared his throat. “I’m...okay.” He scooted closer, and Devin resisted the urge to offer comfort.
“Yeah, well, we’d understand if you weren’t,” he said.
“For sure, Peter.” Joe shifted so his chest pressed against Devin’s drawn knee. He spoke over Devin’s lap. “You’re allowed to —”
“I know. I don’t want your pity, any of you. Bunch of gay people and immigrants.” Peter sniffled again.
“See why I spit on him?” Enough humor laced Marcus’s words that Devin wasn’t worried about a repeat of the spitting incident. Not that Marcus probably had any spit left anyway.
“Not you,” Peter whispered in Devin’s ear. “You’re like me.”
Devin laughed, the noise a little broken by the dryness in his throat. Peter must have missed the kiss Devin had planted on Joe earlier. “Man, I’m way gayer than him.” He thrust his thumb in Joe’s direction.
“True,” Flix said, managing to sound jealous and admiring at once. “Joe banged all kinds of girls before Devin came along.”
“You should have seen the last one,” Marcus added. “Bombshell gorgeous, tits out to here, lips that...” He trailed off like he’d noticed the pain slice through the room. He cleared his throat. “She was beautiful and a good person.”
Devin wrapped an arm around Joe and squeezed. I’m sorry. Bea had been lovely to look at, no denying. She’d also been angry and vindictive and cruel. And so damned hurt.
Joe pressed against him. Me, too.
“Anyway, Flix and I will take some of the old money and the backpack I made.” Joe patted Devin’s knee and stood. “We want it to look like we don’t have much. I’ll take the VICE-shot but leave the rifles with you. Don’t use them, don’t even mess with them, unless someone tries to come into the house. Got me?”
Devin stood, too, and caught Joe’s elbow. He ran his finger over the V-shaped scab. They walked to the door, the light from its high window cluing Devin in to its presence. Joe turned, and Devin slipped an arm around his waist. “This doesn’t mean anything, either, okay?”
“It means ‘be safe.’ I know.” Joe rested some part of his face, forehead, probably, on Devin’s cheek. “You be safe, too. Get some rest in turns. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll wait for you. Keep these dumb boys out of trouble.” Devin tightened his grip on Joe’s back but didn’t pull him closer.
“See you soon.” Joe stepped out of his embrace and left.
After the door closed, Devin twisted the locks and swallowed hard. He wondered if he’d be this worried about being separated from Joe if he could see. He told himself he wouldn’t, even though he knew the truth. What would Joe find out there in the daylight? Devin traced the dusty edges of the window in the door and hoped all Joe found was water.
***
Flix’s blisters had sprouted blisters. His eyes burned, his throat burned, he’d thrown up his dinner, and he was so tired he could have dropped down and fallen asleep on the street. He and Joe had been searching Waco for hours now, breaking into abandoned buildings to check the faucets, peering in windows, peeking down alleys, acting like burglars, terrified of people who didn’t exist. Nothing. Not a soul. And no water.
He gazed down a deserted cross-street and sighed. He’d been excited that Joe had chosen him to come on this water-finding mission and had thought maybe he’d get a chance to bond with his idol-slash-crush. After all this searching, most of it done in silence, Flix would rather be back with Marcus, talking and laughing. Or sleeping. Even Peter and Devin sounded more appealing than listening to Joe not talk. Flat-out sexy beautiful the guy may be, all tight pants and silky curls, but his conversation skills stank.
“So, Joe —”
Joe pressed his thumb and forefinger together in front of Flix’s face.
Flix huffed. He was rewarded a moment later, though, when Joe’s calloused fingers ran down his forearm.
“Follow me, and stay close.”
Joe led Flix down a side road and up a hill. At the crest, an immense five-story building raked the sky. Flix had seen taller, more impressive structures back in Austin, but this one was so much bigger than anything else in the area. Even the buildings they’d explored on the Baylor University campus to the north weren’t so huge.
The jagged, cracked glass at every window looked like fangs, and Flix found himself pulling on the back of Joe’s shirt. “I don’t think we should go in there.”
Joe didn’t even slow. “We shouldn’t.”
Flix dug in his heels and yanked hard enough that little ripping noises came from the fabric near Joe’s shoulders and armpits. Joe stopped, and Flix twisted Joe’s shirt around his wrist until his fist was snug on Joe’s back. “Then why are we?”
Joe turned, and the movement pulled Flix’s forearm tight against Joe’s side. No more than a foot separated their faces. Joe was talking, something about “out of options,” but all Flix caught was the way Joe’s mouth moved. Full, chapped lips, white teeth, and damn, that tongue. It was enough to...oh, God. Not now. He could not pop wood while Joe was talking about serious stuff. But bam, insta-stiffy just the same. Joe’s mouth got closer, so close Flix’s eyes crossed keeping it in focus. They were going to kiss. So close...
A hard hand shoved Flix’s shoulder, and Joe spun away. “Let go of my shirt before you tear it more.”
Flix gazed at his hand, still wrapped in the back of Joe’s shirt. His dick deflated as all the blood rushed to his face. God, no. He’d tried to kiss Joe. Lack of water didn’t matter. Embarrassment would kill him first.
“Your hand, Flix. Get it off me. Now.”
Joe had the decency to keep his back turned until Flix had