In a future where outposts swelter beneath a nuclear sun and run-gunners patrol dusty wastelands to protect against winged creatures known as devlars, Trin is the mech at the waystation in Arens. He has a thing for the gunners: rough men with strong hands and hard bodies, who roll through his garage like the hot desert wind. Gerrick’s the best gunner around, a quick draw with a deadly aim and a penchant for sharing his pallet with young men. He has a roving eye and roaming hands, and has left a string of broken hearts in his wake. Having heard the tales of Gerrick's bravery and seen the man in action for himself, Trin has fallen in love with the man he believes Gerrick to be, and he’s sure he can change the gunner’s mind if given the chance. Gerrick’s all he wants out of this blasted world, and he tells anyone who will listen. Then Gerrick rides through Arens. He’s heard the rumors of what Trin will do for a gunner who only mentions his name. What he wants to know is, what will Trin do for him?

Trin

The gunner looks at him. The gun drops from his hands and then Trin’s in his arms, strong arms like a tourniquet wrapped tightly around him. “I’m not like him,” Trin whispers into the gunner’s shoulder. His own arms snake around Gerrick’s waist as large hands cup his face, forcing him to look into Gerrick’s eyes. Light eyes, like the sand. “I’m not,” Trin swears, “I promise. I know you have to leave, you’ll move on, I know that. But I just want you now, alright?” His chin crumbles, his eyes sting. His hands come up the gunner’s arms, feeling muscle beneath skin covered with downy hair, until they tighten around Gerrick’s wrists. “Maybe you’ll think of me out there, and who knows, one day? Maybe you’ll come back. Back here, to me.”


Chapter 23