Snowfire

Snowfire: Express Sophia Titheniel All rights reserved. Copyright ©2009 Sophia Titheniel Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this or any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an International crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by seizure of computers, up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 per reported instance. ISBN: 978-1-60521-184-8 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1046 Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor: Margaret Riley Cover Artist: Reneé George

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Snowfire: Express Sophia Titheniel Thorn is not a newbie. He’s been running all across the barren wastelands that make up what once was America since he was fifteen -- he knows his shit. He does not need one of the psychic kids running with him to save his neck, no sir. No matter how good Rae is at his job. When their run goes incredibly wrong, and they narrowly manage to escape somewhere across the snow-capped mountains, Thorn has to admit that having someone along is not all that bad -- especially when Rae provides more fun ways of resisting the bitter cold…

Snowfire: Express The ground is hard, covered in pine needles, mud and dirty snow, but Thorn collapses face down on it as if it were a feather bed. His bones ache, a deep, dull throbbing that spreads from the small of his back all the way up his spine, making even thinking too difficult a job for him to accomplish right now. He won’t even mention the cold -- after five hours and over three hundred miles flat on his bike zigzagging across the Junction with a gang of scavengers after their asses, he thinks it’s become embedded in of him. He can barely flex his fingers; the skin is so red and dry from lack of circulation. “Well, that was fun.” Thorn snorts. He raises his head half an inch from the ground, needles stuck to his cheek and into the side of his Mohawk. “Your life would be so dull without me, admit it.” “No shit.” Piercing blue eyes twinkle back at him, and Rae sits down by his side, pushing wet, dark hair off his face. “It’s amazing how you revaluate boredom when your chances of survival drop under five percent.” “That sounds way more dramatic than it was,” Thorn protests, pushing himself up on his elbows. “We did manage to get out of there alive, didn’t we?” “Yep.” Rae nods very seriously. “Middle of fucking Nowhere, Bumfuck Colorado. With little to no gas and no provisions.” “We got whiskey.” Rae chuckles, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them against his chest in an effort to keep himself warm. “How many times? Whiskey is not a food group, buddy.” Thorn shrugs. “Beats hibernation.”

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“Now that was dramatic.” “Was it?” Thorn smirks. “C’mon, do you have a better idea?” “Start a fire, for instance,” Rae replies, glancing around the snow-covered ground. “There’s gotta be some wood we can use, just to last till morning.” “Good luck finding anything dry,” Thorn snorts, finally pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Though I suppose we could use a few drops of gas to set the thing burning. You got a lighter?” Rae makes a face. “No. We could get the wires to spark, though.” Thorn glances over at their steeds, both of them looking the worse for wear but still standing proud under their cover of scratches and mud. “You want to risk it?” Thorn knew what Rae’s answer was going to be before he’d uttered it, “Not really.” Touching anything on either of their bike’s engines would mean disrupting the fragile algorithm of tape, spit and prayer that held the shit in place, dropping the possibilities of putting it back together to somewhere below zero. “But we have whiskey,” Thorn announces then, trying to sound bright and alert. He pulls a flask from under his jacket, the whiff of icy draught that hits his collarbone suggesting him to screw the cap open and gulp down some before handing it over to Rae. “We’ll manage.” “Yeah, I know,” is Rae’s soft answer. For an instant, Thorn gets pretty worried. Psychics are not like the rest of ’em. Their heightened senses mean they get a pretty good head start whenever things would turn bad, or good for that matter -- which is why they’re both still alive and relatively unscathed in the first place. Scavengers’ traps are not easy to sidetrack ’round this time of winter, no matter how good a Pony Express rider you are -- hence the reason Thorn had accepted the order to work in a double team on this run. Good thing, too, or God knows where he’d be right now. “How do you feel?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as awkward to Rae as he does to his own ears. Rae snorts. “My ass’s freezing.”

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“Aw, come here sugar, let me warm it up for you,” he leers, jokingly patting his inner thigh, and he’s thrown back when Rae just stutters and falls silent for an instant before taking another drink from the flask. Thorn’s eyebrows rise high on his forehead. He’d never pinned Rae for -- well, anything really, since he’s known the kid only for a little while, but somehow he thinks he would’ve noticed if Rae had been interested. Hell, Thorn’s not gotten laid in a fucking long time, he should be able to pick up on these things. Maybe Rae’s psychic abilities enable him to screen off whatever it is that he doesn’t want known? And he’s not really concentrating too much now because of the cold? He shuffles closer, until his thigh is pressing up against Rae’s, and he takes the silver flask out of his hand, slowly taking a sip before passing it back, their eyes locking with the soft brush of fingers. Rae’s grip falters for a second, but he manages to keep hold and gulp down another drink, his lips gradually losing their blue tinge and warming back to strawberry red, just like his cheeks. He glances back at Thorn through lowered eyelashes, his teeth worrying the full curve of his lower lip, uncertainty shining bright in the light blue of his irises, making Thorn’s blood rush south dangerously fast. They pass the flask back and forth, back and forth, until Thorn can feel sweat beading at the back of his neck, the burn in his throat spreading down to his groin and thighs, a shocking contrast to the temperature pressing in on him from outside. Eyes trained on Rae’s pink-tinted cheeks, he sprawls down, the frozen earth digging in the small of his back and elbows. He knows Rae won’t make the first move, even with the booze working off the edge -- he’s not nearly drunk enough to fling himself at Thorn’s subtle invitation and, truth be told, Thorn likes it better this way. He’s got a suspicion, born out of Rae’s uncertain, anxious look, the faint blush coloring his cheeks, and when he curls his fingers around Rae’s wrist to guide the flask to his own mouth, the muted gasp that escapes Rae at the contact confirms it. Oh, this could be interesting. He doesn’t say something terribly trite and clichéd like, “so what about warming up for real?” or anything that could potentially turn in to an awkward laugh and huge,

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flashing, whistling foot-in-the-mouth moment. Silently, he screws flask closed and puts it back in his pocket. He leaves his jacket unzipped as he rolls on one side, body pressed up against Rae’s, and delight jolts down his spine at the sharp quickening of Rae’s breath. Thorn knows the warmth from his chest is seeping through Rae’s jacket, he can feel the shiver running down Rae’s arm as he clenches his fist in the snow-covered ground, lower lip caught between his teeth, eyelashes fanning the delicate curve of his cheekbones. “What are you -- what are you doing?” Rae rasps out, Thorn’s hand on his slim waist, tugging him closer. “Shh,” Thorn whispers, his lips dangerously close to Rae’s ear. He feels him shudder, the shock of his cold fingers slipping underneath the layers of clothing getting another silent gasp from Rae’s mouth, and Thorn lets the tip of his tongue circle Rae’s lobe as he shifts his leg to drape it across Rae’s thigh. “What -- what are – oh.” Rae’s eyes flutter closed, pink pouty lips parted, fingers flexing in the dry snow by his sides as his hips jerk minutely at the intimate contact. Thorn rubs the tip of his nose against the column of Rae’s neck, the contrast between cold/hot skin making him shiver. He licks a swathe up Rae’s throat, his dick swiftly hardening in the confines of his jeans as he rubs up against his thigh, feeling Rae’s answering gasp vibrate through the depths of his throat as he nibbles and sucks at his pulse point. Icy fingers gradually losing their edge, he strokes along the line of Rae’s chest, reaching up to brush over taut, hard nipples. Rae moans, head falling back as he forces out a breath, and Thorn smiles over his skin. He tugs on Rae’s hand, getting it off the ground and molding it between his legs, letting him feel just how hard and hot he is already. The frosty tingle of Rae’s damp palm makes Thorn groan, sparks of want kicking up heat in his belly at the uncontrolled whimper that tears from Rae’s lips in answer.

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Thorn’s spare hand flits down Rae’s chest under his shirt, finding the button of his pants and undoing it, pulling out his thick, hard cock, fat dollops of precome oozing from the slit and shining white on reddened skin. Thorn runs his thumb over it as he closes a fist around the shaft, and Rae whines and downright writhes against him, pumping in his hand as if he’s desperate already. “Have you ever done it?” he whispers in Rae’s ear, teeth finding the lobe and sinking lightly into the flesh. The instantaneous intensifying of the heat radiating off Rae’s face gives Thorn his answer, and he grins wickedly as he curls the tip of his tongue inside the curve of Rae’s ear. “I knew it,” he rasps out, guiding Rae’s hand to cup his full balls inside his jeans. “Hot.” Rae buries his face in the groove of Thorn’s collarbone, moaning garbled and wordless as Thorn’s hand picks up pace, tight around the base and lighter when it circles the head, collecting the precome there and spreading it down again in a maddening staccato rhythm. Rae’s fingers get bolder, the hesitant rubbing of the damp patch on Thorn’s pants growing rougher, clumsy and eager as he mewls and twists under Thorn’s expert hands. “You wanna?” Thorn murmurs, delivering small little nibbles to the edge of Rae’s jaw, his fingers sticky damp against the hot, silky length. “Uh huh,” Rae moans in answer, skin slick with perspiration, tongue darting out to lick over too-dry lips as his hips jerk shamelessly into Thorn’s fist. Thorn smiles, low and predatory, and slows his hand on Rae’s cock, smothering a laugh against the corner of Rae’s lips as he cries out in frustration. “How bad?” he asks, lapping at Rae’s teeth where they sink in his lower lip. Rae groans, parts his mouth and allows Thorn in, tongues tangling, messy-wet, and his still fingers suddenly tighten on Thorn’s erection, making him gasp aloud in Rae’s mouth. Rae wrenches out of the kiss, sucking in lung-fulls of air as he bucks up in Thorn’s hand, eyes shut tight as he thrusts, the gleaming head pushing through Thorn’s wet fingers just as Thorn twists his wrist, quickening his strokes with short, hard pulls.

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“Please, oh -- oh God, please --” Rae flexes his hand on Thorn’s dick, squeezes hard, making Thorn grunt as a full body tremble goes through him. Rae’s forehead falls down on Thorn’s shoulder as he comes with a drawn-out, surprised groan, fat spurts of spunk covering Thorn’s hand and wrist, some of it soaking Thorn’s shirt and sliding down the leather of Rae’s jacket, melting with the snow. Thorn chews on his lower lip and pumps him through his orgasm, Rae’s panting breaths fanning his neck, hot and damp on wet skin, his cock diamond hard by now and nearly bursting with want. He needs to turn Rae over, bury himself balls deep in that tight virgin ass, so bad he thinks he could come only thinking about it. Rae moans and shivers, his cock softening in Thorn’s hand, his fingers still rubbing in the wet denim covering his crotch as if he doesn’t know what to do with it, which, Thorn realizes with a spark of lust, is probably the simple truth. Fuck, that’s it. He squeezes Rae’s oversensitive dick one more time, a bolt of electricity going off in his gut when Rae moans as if he’s in pain, and brings his comecovered hand up to Rae’s face, cupping his jaw, sticky fingers forcing past his lips as Rae keens softly and slips his tongue between Thorn’s digits, eating up his own come with curious kitten-like licks. Thorn’s eyes nearly roll back in his head at the sight, and he has to dive in to get a taste himself, covering Rae’s mouth with his own and twisting his tongue against Rae’s as he rocks into the hand cupping his dick, the heady, heavy bittersweet taste of his skin and Rae’s spunk melting on his tastebuds. Rae’s other hand grips at his bicep, arching up with a keening sound as if he can’t get enough, saliva and jizz dribbling down his chin as he winds his tongue past Thorn’s fingers and into his mouth, until Thorn can’t even see straight. Breathless, he breaks the kiss and pushes Rae down in the snow, pressing the heel of his hand down on his crotch to keep himself from coming just at the sight presented to him. Rae’s blue eyes are wide and glassy, lips shining, bruised red by Thorn’s own, his thick cock half hard already and jutting from between his thighs. “Fucking gorgeous,” Thorn breathes as he unzips his pants, squeezing his eyes shut as the mere contact gets his head spinning. He can’t believe how fucking hard he

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got just getting Rae off. Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, he fists the base of his dick, squeezing hard for a moment before spreading the precome dribbling from the head to coat his full length. Rae’s eyes burn, dark and hued as he stares, lips parted in tiny, inaudible gasps at every pull of Thorn’s hand on his cock. Thorn forces himself to stop when he’s already dangerously close to the edge, and twists his hand in the open vee of Rae’s pants, pulling them past his knees down around his ankles, the shocked groan that tears from Rae’s mouth as his ass falls on the frosted snow making his dick throb eagerly. He advances on him on all fours, takes hold of his thighs and spreads his legs apart, pushing them up and against Rae’s chest until his face is level with the dark crease of his ass. He looks up the valley of Rae’s legs to lock eyes with him, his hands shifting on the swell of Rae’s ass to spread his cheeks wide and expose his tiny hole. Without breaking eye contact, Thorn licks down his crack, holding his grin when Rae yells and bucks wildly, his fingers scraping for purchase and fisting Thorn’s Mohawk, desperate to keep him there. Thorn uses his thumbs to open him wider and thrusts his tongue past the tight guardian ring, quick, fleeting stabs in the pulsing wet heat of Rae’s ass, groaning his pleasure through the center of him as Rae tightens his grip on his hair and fucks back on his face, moaning like the best whore. Thorn wonders how Rae’s psychic powers add to sensation, and he runs his tongue in a circle around his entrance one last time before pulling himself up and grinning at Rae’s frustrated sob. “Just wait till I’m fucking you into the ground,” Thorn rasps, voice rough like gravel. “You’ll scream so loud every scavenger in a mile radius will know we’re here.” Rae whines, hips jerking minutely and cock back to full hardness already. Thorn slides up his body in a fluid motion and grabs hold of his head again, mashing their mouths together, eating his scream as he thrusts one finger knuckle-deep inside of him. Rae’s hands scrape on the back of Thorn’s jacket, his knees buckling from a combination of stimulation and biting cold, the skin of his ass raw red as though he’d been spanked. Thorn bites his lower lip, sucks his tongue into his mouth as he works

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that finger in and out, trying to get him to loosen up a little, the burning friction of Rae’s channel driving him to the point of insanity. “More,” Rae grinds out, yanking at Thorn’s jacket to get him closer, his lips swollen with lovebites. “More, fuck, please, gotta -- gotta --” Thorn nods, their noses brushing together, and he bites into Rae’s jaw again, switching one finger for two and crooking them up. The heat’s almost unbelievable. Rae clenches down on his fingers so hard it whitens out everything else, even Rae’s desperate moaning as he thrashes underneath him. “Yeah. Okay. Fuck, feels fucking amazing, so fucking hot, dear Christ.” Rae lifts glossy eyes upon him, roses of color high on his cheeks, and he splays his legs wantonly, fingers threading through Thorn’s hair as he drags him closer, his hips rocking with helpless, frantic moves. “Please, just d-do it -- just --” he groans, his head falls back to bare his neck in surrender. It’s all that it takes. Thorn swiftly slips his fingers out, taking a firm hold on Rae’s thigh and hooking it above the crook of his elbow to spread him wider, the shiny-wet head of his dick nudging between Rae’s ass cheeks, teasingly spreading precome on the swollen, quivering pucker. Rae tosses his head from one side to the other, snow catching in the dark locks and shining like shards of glass, fingertips digging deep into the back of Thorn’s neck as he drives home in one smooth, swift thrust, his vision graying out as Rae clenches impossibly tight around him, wet scorching friction nearly pulling him over the edge as Rae comes with a scream. “Holy -- fuck --” Thorn grits his teeth, gripping the base of his dick hard to keep himself from following Rae into the throes of orgasm. The over stimulation is nearly too much to bear, but he manages, looking in awe as Rae writhes on the end of his cock, rope after rope of come coating his belly as he shakes and trembles, muted moans making their way through wordless, broken whimpers. It’s hands-down the hottest thing Thorn ever saw, and shit, he fucking needs to move or he’s going to die. He holds Rae wide open, the aftershocks of his orgasm still

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riding through his dick from within, and he begins to withdraw, grunting in the back of his throat as Rae’s ass squeezes him like a vice, as if he didn’t want to let him out, ever, and no, it won’t be magical, it won’t be romantic, but fuck he’s going to make sure Rae remembers it. He pulls out completely, lets Rae’s ass brush against the frosty snow long enough for the abrupt hot/cold shift to run through him before hauling Rae on his lap again and diving home again, the friction unbelievable. Thorn knows Rae must be burning up inside with the force of it, with the overload of sensation attacking him from all angles, and he leans down to suck at the hollow of his throat as he starts a hard, fast pace, impaling Rae on his dick with every quick thrust, matching each and every one with a moan or a grunt from Rae’s shattered voice, more, please, yeah, God, yeah, mingling with Thorn’s name and uttered, unintelligible pleas. Thorn’s sweat falls in his eyes, stinging, his panting breath damp on Rae’s neck. Rae grabs hold of Thorn’s thigh, pulling his leg closer. The shudder that racks through Rae’s body at the freezing impact shoots like electricity down Thorn’s spine. Thorn pulls out again, holding Rae in place, body pliant and fucked out and sprawled on his sheets of twigs, leaves and white, and yanks him down on his dick just as he’s ramming back in, the change in angle having Thorn hitting Rae’s prostrate with every ruthless thrust. Pleasure runs through his veins like liquid fire as he watches Rae’s eyes roll back in his head, shutting tight as if he couldn’t take it all anymore, as if the feelings were too many, too raw. It’s that look of absolute bliss that pushes Thorn hurling down the slope. He covers Rae’s body with his own, stealing his breath in a kiss as his hips stutter, back going rigid, one, two, three times before he smothers a scream in the abused skin of Rae’s throat, his world blanching out with a rush of blood to the head. He doesn’t know if he’s awake until Rae grunts and mumbles something that could be anything, but that Thorn’s brain registers as “Squashing now, move.” He doesn’t know if Rae’s mind powers just spoke to him, and why does that make him feel warm?

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Too many questions. Later. He pulls out of Rae’s body, wincing in discomfort, and tucks himself back in before valiantly rising to his knees to pull Rae’s pants up, snorting when he gets a half-hearted slap on his wrist for his trouble. “Do it m’self.” “I can see that,” Thorn whispers, voice rough and fucked. He lays back next to him and sneaks one arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “Don’ ’ven think ’bout it,” Rae mutters, managing a dazed glare before laying his head on Thorn’s shoulder. “What the fuck ya think I am, one of those battery bunnies?” “… for a month.” He can’t see Rae’s face, but he knows he’s grinning, and how he knows beats him, but he’s not going to ask. Not now. “Just so you know,” he hears Rae murmur after a while, and Thorn has to slowly blink himself back to consciousness to be able to focus on what Rae’s saying. “You’re carrying my bike to the next stop.”

Sophia Titheniel Shy, bashful, Sophia Titheniel -- NOT! She’s part Elf, part video editor, part photographer. She likes her men feisty, snarky, and getting it on with one another! Originally from Italy, Sophia’s now hopping the Atlantic to land in Vancouver, Canada, and looking forward to giving her professors a heart attack with her M/M projects. Obsessed with caffeine, M&M’s (pun very much intended) and with everything supernatural, she’s known to carry her laptop to the most improbable locations (those include, but are no limited to, beach, bathroom, train, and day-job) to be able to finish whatever she’s writing at the moment. Spirit

Boys,

her

ongoing

free

serial,

makes

it’s

home

at

http://titheniel.livejournal.com. Want to harass her to hurry things up? Drop her a note at [email protected] -- Sophia would like to add she takes full responsibility for any thigh-clench and change of panties that might occur! ;) Enjoy