Page 101 of Fall for Him

Felicity’s anger was less lidded than Derek’s. “It’s not some stupid personality thing that makes him the quirky comic relief of our family. You dicks made his life harder. I’ve watched it my entire life.”

Derek stood next to Felicity. “And tonight, he put out that fire and almost hurt himself to keep a little girl safe because he cares that much about you all. Only to end up a joke again.”

“Dude, Dylan… I didn’t…” Calvin seemed shaken.

Derek pushed in between them. “Don’t dude, Dylan him. Felicity’s probably told all you this crap before.”

“I warned all of you when he was moving back that you fuckwads better not make his life harder again. It’s probably just because you couldn’t stand that he was smarter than you assholes.” Felicity glared.

Derek again brandished the trophy at Dylan’s older brothers. “This garbage stops now.”

“It’s okay. Really.” Dylan pulled Derek’s arm, honestly worried Derek was going to try to beat the shit out of the three enormous hockey players with a twenty-four-year-old plaster-of-paris pickle.

“Stop saying it’s okay. It’s not okay, Dylan.” Derek held the pickle trophy between his hands almost like Dylan’s mother held her rosary and addressed the brothers. “This ‘award?’ This making your brilliant brother relive an experience that is clearly painful for him every single year in front of your entire family like some ritualistic flagellation? This shit is over.” Derek wound up like a major league pitcher and launched it into the woods.

Derek was shaking—actually shaking—as Dylan wrenched him into the dense woods where he had just hurled the Pickle Award.

They walked down the path far enough away that Dylan couldn’t easily make out the voices from the field anymore. Dylan’s feelings were so jumbled he didn’t know where to start.

“Christ, Derek. I didn’t need you to do that. And I’ve told Felicity before not to… Ugh, I didn’t ask for your help—”

Derek’s voice echoed off the surrounding trees. “Because you’ve been around this crap for so long, you’re just accepting their bullshit even though it’s everything you told me you hated last night. It’s everything that makes you feel worthless. That’s not okay.” Derek pulled Dylan to face him. “You are not fucking worthless.”

Dylan shifted and leaned against the trunk of a large tree facing away from the field. “It’s a joke. I’m not the only one that’s gotten it.”

“That trophy is complete nonsense. And given the shape of it I’m not convinced that it’s not also somehow obliquely and generically homophobic. Though I’ve never seen a penis that looked like that… But you know what, I hate those dickwads, and I’m just going to assume that’s what their genitalia looks like.”

Dylan’s face wrinkled with disgust. “Please, could you not assume anything about my older brothers’ genitalia? Like ever ever.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you dealt with? We wouldn’t have come.”

“It’s not always… Tonight, I was just shaken up about the fire. That’s why I couldn’t handle…” Dylan pressed his hand against the tree bark, the sharp texture distracting him from the weird stinging in his eyes. “It’s not that big a deal. You didn’t have to go off on them.”

Derek grabbed hold of Dylan by his collar in a strangely gentle, intimate grip. “I… am… not…” His voice became something low and almost dangerous. He enunciated every word like he was struggling against the impulse to crash back through that forest and pummel someone. “I am not going to apologize for standing up for you. Ever. Those guys pull that shit again in front of me, and I will end them.” The threat was a rumbling growl, some throaty feral sound. Suddenly, those fantasy romance books Felicity forced Dylan to read seemed a lot less ridiculous. Because as the last vestiges of bonfire light bled through the trees and lit Derek’s face, it looked like there were actual sparks crackling behind his beautiful dark eyes.

“Derek.”

“Do not ever let someone make you feel that small again. Because you, Dylan Gallagher, are not fucking small.”

Derek pressed his lips on Dylan’s in a shattering kiss.

The kiss was everywhere. It was lightning, streaking down the muscles of Dylan’s arms, his chest, his legs. Every shock of Derek’s lips against his became a surge of pure kinetic energy. Derek’s arms were braced on either side of him, pressing Dylan’s back into the tree trunk. Every part of his body hummed with electricity. Flashes of real heat lightning and the tongues of firelight cast magical shadows over the planes of Derek’s face, neck, and chest.

As Dylan slid his hands hungrily beneath Derek’s shirt, the sound of unwanted raised voices knocked against Dylan’s shellshocked consciousness. He was barely a quarter mile from his entire extended family including aunts, uncles, and about thirty-one cousins.

Dylan swallowed, breathless against the relentless pace of Derek’s kisses. “You need to take me home right now.”

Derek pulled away, his own breath hitching his chest. “I damn well am going to take you home right now. Your brothers and their immature bullshit can suck it.”

“No, I really need you to take me home because if you don’t, I’m going to ask you to fuck me right here against this tree. And I’m deathly afraid of tree snakes.”

“Well, shit, now I am too.” Derek yanked Dylan off from the tree where he had just been dragging rough teeth along Dylan’s neck. “Say the other part again, Dylan.”

Dylan grabbed Derek’s face, which was still flushed with the irresistible effects of righteous rage. “I hate snakes.”

“Dylan.” His hands circled Dylan’s waist, so careful with him despite the near-snapping tension pulling his neck and arm muscles. “Please, say it again.”

Dylan unbuttoned the top button of Derek’s shirt. He played with the hair at the top of Derek’s chiseled chest. “I want you to take me home, and carry me into my bedroom.” Dylan slid his hand downward, slipping it inside Derek’s pants, feeling the hardness grow against his palm. “And fuck me until I can barely sit down tomorrow.”

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