Jackhammer tried to ignore the news as he snuggled into his coat and walked briskly past the newspaper headlines and window displays of televisions. He wished the coat had a hood so he could cover his face in case anyone recognised it.
Trailing behind him, determined to keep pace, O’Shay puffed and panted, cursing at Jackhammer’s speed but refusing to fall too far behind.
“Wait for me!” he panted and burst into a short sprint to catch up with Jackhammer. He grabbed Jackhammer’s arm and pulled him to a stop.
“Wait for me!” he repeated, this time pleading.
“We have to get out of the city,” Jackhammer responded. “If we take a bus, we won’t be traced. This way!” He began surging forward again, and O’Shay fell into a half-walk-half-run to follow him.
The bus they eventually caught was an ordinary metropolitan bus that took them far out of the city and into the neighbouring hills. They disembarked at the last stop as dusk began to fall.
“This way,” Jackhammer instructed again, and led O’Shay from the bus stop to a farm that was an hour’s hike away.
“What is this place?” O’Shay asked, expecting to find some kind of superhero safe house.
“Don’t know,” Jackhammer responded. “But it’s got a barn and no near neighbours, which makes it a good place to bed down for the night.”
They set themselves up in the loft of the barn, forming a bed of hay that worked as a mattress and for warmth. O’Shay settled down beside Jackhammer, who lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head.
Moonlight glistened through the open loft window, revealing Jackhammer’s taut smooth torso thrusting out from the open jacket. O’Shay had never considered Asians in a sexual way before, yet seeing the rippled body glistening in the moonlight, he felt a stirring that took him by surprise.
He snuggled into Jackhammer, using Jack’s chest for a pillow, but lying there with his eyes open, Jackhammer’s erect nipples filled his vision. O’Shay couldn’t resist. He rolled over slightly and kisses Jackhammer’s stomach, sending a ripple through the hero’s abs.
It encouraged him to go further and he rolled on top of Jackhammer, opening his own jacket so their skin touched. He sucked harder and his fingers slid up Jackhammer’s rippled torso to mess with his hair.
Jackhammer gasped and then pushed O’Shay off.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he demanded. O’Shay could almost hear the romantic music screech to a halt.
“You thought wrong,” Jackhammer snapped.
O’Shay sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “When I get stressed, I crave company. I thought…”
“Go to sleep,” Jackhammer said with a sigh. He rolled over so his back was to O’Shay.
“Sorry,” O’Shay mumbled. He pulled some straw over him for a blanket and stared longingly at the back of the hero’s jacket. “Good night.”
“Yeah, ‘night,” Jackhammer muttered.
The silence that followed was deafening. It was a definite off-switch from Jackhammer, leaving O’Shay lying awake in a swamp of disappointment. He was sure Jackhammer liked him. Why else would he let him accompany him? He guessed it was just a matter of time until Jackhammer realised it himself. Until then, he would just have to bide his time.