Wednesday Briefs: Shipwreck, Part 4

It’s the time of the week again for flash fiction with the Wednesday Briefers. Yay! This week Avery is continuing Will and Foster’s story.

Just a reminder that these stories have to be 500-1000 words and based on a prompt. This week, Avery used the prompt: have a character have bedhead. Can you guess which of her characters is going to wake up with hair sticking in all directions??

Photo courtesy of Kevin Mitnak
Photo courtesy of Kevin Mitnak

Here we go…more of…



Foster bolted upright. He’d been having such a pleasant dream—what a rude and frightening awakening.

He heard a pounding noise, as if Napoleon’s army marched on the roof of wherever he was. Dear God, please let—


He couldn’t help himself. A pathetic whimper escaped his mouth even as his body began to shake uncontrollably. His mind drifted to that horrible night—the night when he fought through darkened depths, trying to break through the surface and suck in a lungful of fresh air, not a mouthful of seawater.

“…you’re okay. I’ve got you.” A voice broke through his despair. “You and your cute bedhead.” The voice chuckled softly.

Where was he? His mind was too distracted by the thunderstorm. The mystery of his surroundings continued to elude Foster.

“Relax, handsome, I’ve got you.” Strong arms pulled him securely against a well-muscled body, wrapping him in comfort and warmth. “It’s me…Will…your rescuer extraordinaire. Remember?”

Finally, blessedly, Foster’s memory returned and the world slid back into place. The hunky guy—the one who pulled him out of the water and fed him bacon—must have tucked him into bed.

He snuggled into Will’s body, using the man’s strength to push the storm from his mind. He had no desire to relive the boat capsizing, and yeah…not going there.

“Stupid storms. We’ve had a bad one every day for the past week.” Will pressed a kiss to his temple, while stroking a rough hand up and down his back.

Rough hand…that meant…his back was bare. Had Will undressed him before he put him to bed? Foster wiggled his butt. Not naked. Still had his shorts on. At his movement, Will’s hand stilled, and oh how Foster missed the repetitive motion.

“You okay? Need the bathroom?” Will’s deep voice was filled with concern.

“Ah, no, I’m g—”

Another flash of lightning lit the room as the rain changed directions, pounding furiously against the window across from the bed. It interrupted Foster’s thought and froze him in place.

“Come here, handsome, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

With Will’s help, Foster shifted so that he sat on Will’s lap, chest to chest, his arms and legs wrapped around the man’s massive body. He tucked his head under Will’s chin and concentrated on breathing. And what do you know…Will’s scent was like an aphrodisiac. Clean and crisp, like sheets hung to dry beneath the summer sun.

The more he focused on Will, the more his body started to respond. Not like he needed his full-time rescuer feeling his erection. He searched his brain for an excuse to create some space when a loud “muurrow” sounded and the mattress depressed.

“Luna,” Will greeted the newcomer. “Did the storm get to you, too?”

The cat ignored Foster and plodded over to Will. She bumped her head against Will’s arm, demanding attention.

“Looks like your comforting skills are much needed today.” Foster teased, glad his erection had subsided. He made a mental note to thank Luna later.

“We were on our way home from a trip to the vet one time when a storm hit. Freaked her the hell out. She hates them now.” Her throaty purr sounded over Will’s soft voice.

The man was multi-talented. He could both pet the cat and rub soothing circles around Foster’s back. Foster would bet he could walk and chew gum at the same time without tripping. Hell, he could probably juggle while doing both of those things. The man had big hands. And with that, his mind skidded into the gutter, wishing Will was naked from the waist up, wishing he could feel the man’s skin against his own, thinking how unfair it was Will got to touch his skin and Foster was stuck with a stupid T-shirt between them.

One way to fix that…and leave it to the cat to have perfect timing. Apparently done with her attention-session, she walked to the foot of the bed and got comfortable.

Foster loosened his hold on Will and grabbed the man’s T-shirt. “It’s not fair that I’m shirtless and you’re not.” He didn’t give Will time to think about a reply. He tugged on the bottom of the shirt, forcing Will to put his arms up.

Once the shirt was over Will’s head and off his defined arms, Foster tossed it off the side of the bed. He took in his handiwork. “Much better,” he said, before ghosting his hands down Foster’s defined pecs to his six-pack—or was it eight-pack?—abs. The man was so sculpted he could have been an anatomy model.

A quick intake of breath let Foster know he wasn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, if he had to guess, Will liked the attention, but wasn’t sure what to make of it. He gave off an air of independence and self-reliance. It probably had been some time since anyone had touched Will so gently.

“Look at all those beautiful muscles,” Foster whispered reverently. His hands glided back up Will’s torso. He brushed Will’s nipples on the way north, pleased that they tightened under his touch.

Foster traced the outline of Will’s collarbone as he looked at his rescuer’s face. The man had his eyes closed, his thin lips parted. If Foster had to guess, he’d say Will was hard in his shorts. He knew better than to press Will. Best let him get used to a caring touch.

He laid his hand over Will’s heart. It thumped erratically, its rhythm faster than normal.

Foster leaned his head toward Will’s. Against those parted lips, he asked, “May I kiss you? Would that be okay?”

to be continued…

Be sure to check out flashes from these Wednesday Briefers!

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