The night it finally happened, the heat still hadn’t broke. Storm clouds stacked up over Lookout like bruises, thunder grumbling but never quite committing. The power flickered twice before giving up altogether, plunging the holler into dark so thick it felt touchable. Mark lay on his narrow bed in just his boxers, sweat slicking his ribs, listening to cicadas scream like they were trying to outdo the silence inside him. He was nineteen now—too old to still feel this scared of his own want, too broke to go anywhere else, too rooted to imagine a life that didn’t involve this valley and its sharp edges.
The knock came soft at the back door. Three taps. Pause. Two more. Jed.
Mark sat up so fast he got dizzy. He eased through the trailer, careful not to wake his mama, and slipped out into the night. Jed stood there in the yard, barefoot, dreads pulled back into a low ponytail that left his face bare and honest. He looked nervous in a way Mark had never seen—hands flexing, jaw tight.
“You okay?” Mark whispered.
Jed nodded, then shook his head. “Ain’t sure.”
That made something settle and flare all at once inside Mark. “Me neither.”
They didn’t touch at first. Just stood there with the dark humming around them, neighbors’ houses close enough you could hear a TV laugh track somewhere uphill. Close enough for eyes. For rumors.
Jed finally spoke. “Mama thinks I’m stayin’ at Sam’s. If she knew I was here—”
“I know,” Mark said. “Same.”
They looked at each other like they were about to jump off something high. Jed exhaled slow. “You don’t gotta—”
“I want to,” Mark said, fast and fierce. Then softer: “I’m just scared.”
Jed stepped closer. Not touching yet. “Me too. Whole damn life, feels like.”
The trailer door creaked when Mark opened it, and both of them froze, listening. Nothing. Just night. Just heat. Just the sound of their own breathing.
Inside, the dark wrapped around them. Jed’s shoulder brushed Mark’s arm and that was enough to make Mark’s knees threaten to give. They kissed like it was an accident. Then like it wasn’t. Jed’s mouth was warm, hesitant at first, like he was waiting for God or the holler or somebody’s dead daddy to strike them down. Mark’s hands shook when he reached up, fingers brushing the loose ends of Jed’s dreads where they escaped the tie. Jed made a sound—low, surprised, almost a laugh—and kissed him deeper, his tongue tracing the seam of Mark’s lips until he opened for him with a soft gasp.
Mark pulled back, breath ragged. “If we do this… I don’t know how to be normal after.”
Jed rested his forehead against Mark’s. “Ain’t nothin’ normal about us anyway.”
That did it. They moved to the bedroom like they were sneaking into church after dark, careful, reverent, terrified. Jed sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on his knees, like he was waiting to be judged. Mark stood there a second, heart hammering. Every sermon he’d ever half-listened to rang in his ears. Every slur muttered at the gas station. Every warning dressed up as love. "Don’t give folks reason."
He climbed onto the bed anyway.
Jed’s hands were on him then, pulling him close, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of Mark’s neck. Mark shuddered, his head falling back as Jed’s teeth scraped his pulse point. He was hard already, aching in his boxers, a dizzying wave of want and shame crashing through him. He felt like he was burning up from the inside out.
Jed’s fingers found the hem of Mark’s t-shirt and tugged it over his head. The air was cool on his sweat-damp skin. He felt exposed, pale and freckled in the gloom, but Jed just looked at him like he was something to be cherished. He leaned in and kissed Mark’s chest, his tongue swirling around a nipple until Mark was biting his lip to keep from crying out.
“Jed…” Mark breathed, his hands fumbling with the waistband of Jed’s jeans. “Please…”
Jed helped him, shucking his own pants and boxers until he was naked. In the dim light from the window, he was all sharp lines and smooth, dark skin, his cock hard against his stomach. Mark’s mouth went dry. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so terrifyingly right.
Jed gently pushed Mark back against the pillows, his movements sure and confident. He knelt between Mark’s legs, his hands stroking Mark’s thighs. “You sure ‘bout this?” he asked, his voice low and serious.
Mark just nodded, his throat too tight to speak.
Jed reached over to the nightstand, his hand fumbling in the drawer before coming up with a small bottle of lube. Mark’s face burned. He’d almost forgotten he’d put it there, a secret hope he was too scared to admit to himself.
Jed coated his fingers, his eyes never leaving Mark’s. “Relax for me, Red,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”
Mark tried, but his whole body was a live wire of nerves. He’d never let anyone touch him like this. It was intimate in a way that felt more vulnerable than being naked. He felt Jed’s finger press against him, a strange, insistent pressure. He tensed automatically.
“Hey,” Jed said softly. “Look at me.” Mark met his gaze. “I got you. I promise.”
Mark took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Jed pushed in, slow and careful. It was a strange sensation, a fullness that bordered on pain but wasn’t quite. Jed moved his finger, crooking it slightly, and a bolt of pure pleasure shot up Mark’s spine. He cried out, his back arching off the bed.
Jed did it again, and then added another finger, stretching him, opening him up. It was overwhelming, a dizzying mix of pleasure and the sharp edge of pain. Mark was panting now, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands clutching at the sheets.
“Jed, now,” he gasped. “I can’t… I need…”
Jed withdrew his fingers, and Mark felt the loss acutely. He watched, mesmerized, as Jed slicked himself up, his jaw tight with restraint. He positioned himself over Mark, his forearms braced on either side of his head.
“Last chance,” Jed whispered, his voice strained.
Mark just wrapped his legs around Jed’s waist, pulling him down. “Do it.”
Jed pushed in, and it hurt. It was a sharp, burning stretch that stole his breath. He cried out, his hands flying to Jed’s shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. Jed froze, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still.
“Breathe, Mark,” he gritted out. “Just breathe with me.”
Mark squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to obey. The pain slowly began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching fullness. He shifted his hips, experimentally, and the friction sent a jolt of pleasure through him so intense he saw stars.
“Move,” he begged. “Please, Jed, move.”
Jed did. He started slow, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, each stroke a deliberate, devastating act. The bed springs groaned in time with their movements, a rhythmic creak that sounded like a drumbeat in the quiet room. Mark was lost, a tangle of sensation and emotion. The shame was still there, a cold knot in his gut, but it was being burned away by the fire of Jed’s body, by the way he was looking at him, like he was the only thing in the world.
He wrapped his arms around Jed’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation. He could feel the sweat on Jed’s back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he drove into him, harder and faster now. The thunder rumbled outside, closer this time, a deep, guttural sound that matched the rhythm of their bodies.
Jed’s hand snaked between them, wrapping around Mark’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. That was all it took. Mark came with a strangled cry, his body arching, his release tearing through him like a lightning strike. Jed followed him over the edge a moment later with a low groan, his body shuddering against Mark’s.
After, they lay tangled in the dark, sweat cooling, thunder still threatening but never breaking. Jed traced circles on Mark’s back.
“You think we’re goin’ to hell?” Mark snorted softly, his voice wrecked. “If hell’s real, it’s already this place half the time.”
Jed went quiet. Then: “I ain’t ashamed. I’m just… scared to death.”
“Me too,” Mark said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I ain’t sorry.”
Jed kissed his shoulder. “Good. Cause I don’t think I could stand that.”
Outside, a truck passed slow on the road. Voices drifted. Someone laughed mean. The holler reminding them it was still there, watching, waiting. Jed tightened his arm around Mark anyway. They didn’t have words for what they were yet. Didn’t have safety. Didn’t have a future that didn’t feel like guesswork. But for that night—just that night—they had each other. And somehow, that was enough.
Morning came too fast, the sunlight slicing through the thin curtains like a judgment. Mark woke with his heart already a frantic drum against his ribs, the dread hitting before he even opened his eyes. Then he felt the warmth beside him, the solid weight of an arm thrown over his waist. Jed. Still here. Relief hit him so hard it almost hurt, a sharp, sweet ache that chased away the fear for a bare second.
Jed blinked awake a moment later, his eyes unfocused and soft in the morning light. Then memory crashed back in, and his whole body went tense as a piano wire. “Shit,” he whispered, the word raw in the quiet room.
Mark sat up, dragging a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Yeah.”
They listened. The house was silent. No footsteps in the hall, no clatter of pans from the kitchen. Just the distant hum of a lawnmower uphill and the shriek of a jaybird outside the window.
“My mama’s gonna have my hide,” Jed said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Told her I was at Sam’s.”
“I know,” Mark said, his own voice rough. “Mine thinks I was sleepin’.”
The silence that followed felt different in daylight. It wasn’t the soft, intimate dark of the night before. It was a bright, loud silence, full of the threat of being seen, of being caught. Every creak of the trailer’s frame sounded like a gunshot.
Jed finally sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. He looked at Mark, and in the harsh morning light, Mark saw everything cross his face: the fear, the guilt, the lingering want, and something that looked awfully close to grief.
“You regret it?” Mark asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Jed’s answer was immediate, fierce. “No.”
Mark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the air leaving his lungs in a shaky rush.
Jed swung his legs off the bed, pacing the small strip of floor between the bed and the wall. “I just… I don’t know how to be this and still survive here. How do you walk down to the store knowin’ what you did the night before? How do you look Mr. Henderson in the eye when he’s talkin’ ‘bout burnin’ in hell?”
Mark leaned back on his hands, the sheet bunched around his own hips. “Me neither. But I don’t know how to un-be it now. It’s done. It’s in me.”
Jed stopped pacing. He turned, his expression raw. “You think folks already know? Like, can they see it on us?”
“Folks always think they know,” Mark said, a bitter edge to his voice. “Ain’t never stopped ‘em from bein’ wrong.”
Jed snorted weakly, a sound without any real humor. He crossed the room and dropped back onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping. “If somebody saw me leavin’ this early…”
Mark reached out without thinking, his fingers catching Jed’s wrist. The skin was warm, the pulse beating fast under his touch. “Hey. Look at me.”
Jed did, his dark eyes full of a storm Mark knew all too well.
“You didn’t take somethin’ from me,” Mark said, his voice firm. “You didn’t ruin me. Last night didn’t make me weaker.”
Jed’s jaw worked, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Felt like it made me softer.”
Mark smiled, just a little, a sad, knowing thing. “Maybe that ain’t the same thing.”
Jed stared at him like the thought scared him more than the threat of hellfire ever had. Just then, a truck rumbled past outside, its engine loud in the quiet. Both of them froze, Jed’s hand tightening around Mark’s wrist until his knuckles were white. They waited, holding their breath, until the sound faded down the road.
Jed leaned in, pressing his forehead to Mark’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them. “I don’t know what we are,” he admitted, his voice cracking.
Mark closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth of him. “We’re careful.”
Jed huffed a laugh. “We ain’t been good at that so far.”
Mark laughed with him, a soft, breathy sound that was more relief than humor. “No. But we’re tryin’.”
Jed kissed him then—quick, fierce, like stealing something precious before it could be taken away. Then he pulled back, his expression shuttering, the walls going back up one by one.
“I gotta go,” he said, the words heavy with finality.
“I know.”
Jed stood and started gathering his clothes from the floor. He dressed quickly, his movements efficient, his back to Mark. When he tied his dreads back, his fingers were shaking, but the ponytail he created was neat and controlled, a piece of armor against the world.
At the bedroom door, he hesitated, his hand on the frame. He didn’t turn around. “You still want me back?” he asked, his voice so low Mark almost missed it.
Mark didn’t pretend. He didn’t hedge. “Yeah.”
Jed nodded, a short, sharp jerk of his head. “Good.”
Then he slipped out, and Mark heard the soft click of the back door closing, the sound of his bare feet on the dusty dirt outside.
Mark sat on the bed long after, the spot beside him still warm, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The sunlight streamed in, warming his skin, and for the first time in a long, long time, the heat didn’t feel like it was trying to kill him.
