Jevon returned with cans of Red Stripe and a bottle of Coruba. Rhys shuddered. “Don’t give me any of that rum. I’ve got to fly tomorrow and I have enough trouble not upchucking on the patients as it is.”
“You don’t like flying?”
“Not particularly.”
Jevon tilted his head sideways, his frown questioning.
Rhys shrugged. “There was a brief shortage of flight paramedics last year and I was offered the chance to be seconded from the NHS. Working on the road ambos... damn, we need the choppers in the air, you know? There’s too many kids dying in traffic jams.”
“There are too many children dying at all.”
“Do they die in the camps?”
“Sometimes.” Jevon’s lovely face clouded with sadness. “People fleeing don’t always have access to medical care on route to the camps. I’ve seen folk show up with limbs hanging off a few times. But the disease is the worst. Camps like that aren’t exactly sanitary. There was a cholera outbreak a few months back.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It was pretty awful. I’d done some clown doctor work at Great Ormond Street before I signed up for FFP, but it’s nothing like working in a DP camp.”
The acronyms meant little to Rhys for a moment. He popped the tab on his beer and muddled through it.Free to Fly Project. Displaced persons camp. “What the fuck is a clown doctor?”
Jevon laughed. “I’ll show you.”
It took a bit of rummaging, but several boxes—and beer cans—later, Jevon unearthed a wooden stethoscope and yet another day-glo bow tie. “See? No Ronald McDonald shit.Anyway, kids get pretty lonely and frightened when they’re in hospital, even if their parents stay with them. You’d be amazed what ten minutes with a fake doctor can do for that.”
Rhys was already feeling amazed. He’d obsessed over the Jevon he remembered for months, but he could easily fall in love with the Jevon in front of him now. Instinct drew him forwards, and he closed the distance between them in one step, invading Jevon’s personal space like he did it all the time. Like this was fucking normal. Like he’d kissed Jevon every day for the last three months instead of dreaming about it.
Their lips met. Rhys gasped, inexplicably shocked when it was him pushing Jevon against the wall, one hand on his chest, the other clutching the loose knot of dreads at the nape of his neck.Himwedging his legs between Jevon’s, kissing him like he’d never stop.
Jevon’s shaky intake of breath was sharp too. The wooden stethoscope fell to the floor, and he wound his arms around Rhys, pulling him impossibly closer. He’d flicked a speaker on when they’d come in the house, flooding the cosy space with a low, mellow reggae beat. Now, the rhythm pulsed between them, singing in Rhys’s blood until he didn’t know where he ended and Jevon began. He thought he’d remembered everything about Jevon, but fuck, he’d forgotten how good he smelled. His taste. How right their bodies felt crushed together.I want—
Jevon broke away with a low whistle. “Wow. I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that again with me.”
“What?”
He winced a little. “I know I embarrassed myself a bit last time.”
“What?”
“Um—you know. With all the virgin talk.”
Perspective returned to Rhys with a rush. He blinked and pressed his forehead to Jevon’s, absorbing his wide gaze. Then he pulled back, releasing Jevon from his cage against the wall. “You’re nuts.”
“Excuse me?”
Rhys shook his head. “The only embarrassing thing about that night was me shooting my load in ten seconds flat and passing out on you. There’s no shame in not fucking the whole world by the time you hit thirty.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“Would that matter?”
“To me?” Jevon shrugged when Rhys didn’t answer. “Of course not. It’s just—I dunno. Makes me nervous I wouldn’t measure up if something happened between us.”
Rhys snorted. “Trust me, mate. You measure up.”
“I wasn’t talking about my dick.”
“I know. I’m just trying to break the heavy, man. It’s been a long day.”