Polar Reaction Read online

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  www.samhainpublishing.com

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Polar Reaction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  Look for these titles by Claire Thompson

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  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Polar Reaction

  Copyright © 2009 by Claire Thompson

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-462-0

  Edited by Sasha Knight

  Cover by Anne Cain

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2009

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Polar Reaction

  Claire Thompson

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Brendan stood like the perfect wet dream beneath the spray, his erect cock clutched in his hand. The shower curtain was open only a few inches, but it was enough to see the handsome man, head slumped against his chest with eyes closed, fingers flying. Tuck knew he should make some noise, let Brendan know he was in the bathroom, but he couldn't move.

  Instead Tuck stood frozen, hungrily watching the man he'd dreamed of possessing ever since he'd first laid eyes on him the year before. They'd worked together on the Blue Glacier Project in Washington's Olympic Mountains. Though Brendan billed himself as straight, Tuck had his doubts, especially after that night around the campfire. They had stayed up long after the rest of the crew had straggled off to bed, talking about their dreams and hopes.

  The connection had been immediate and, for Tuck at least, intense. It wasn't their shared passion for the research they did, or Brendan's wide, easy smile. It wasn't the sexy curve of his muscular thigh beneath faded blue denim. It wasn't the way the firelight had flickered on his cheek, lighting the thick fall of curling blond hair down his strong neck and reflecting the heat of desire Tuck felt for him. Or rather, it was all of those things and more. It was the more—that indefinable attraction that once in a blue moon grabbed you by the throat and wouldn't let go, no matter how hard you tried to forget or deny...

  That night by the fire, though admittedly aided by several bottles of beer, Tuck had felt the crackle of desire arc between them like heat lightning. He had experimented, leaning close until their thighs touched. Where a straight guy would have shifted and pulled away, Brendan had remained still. If anything, he had moved closer.

  They had shared stories of their lives, both funny and sad, lowering their defenses in a way that was rare between men. When Tuck dared to put a comforting arm around Brendan's shoulders, he hadn't pulled away. If it had been up to Tuck, they would have remained thigh to thigh, heads nearly touching until the sun came up.

  It hadn't gone any further, but Tuck had seen the bulge beneath Brendan's jeans which matched his own. He had seen, for a lingering moment, the longing mirrored in Brendan's eyes.

  Now on their last day in the Antarctic, there Brendan stood like a Greek god, the head of his thick, long cock emerging from his curled fingers like a promise, his eyes squeezed tight as he neared his goal.

  If you were mine ... Tuck mouthed.

  If he were Tuck's lover, Brendan wouldn't need to masturbate. Tuck would wake him each morning by scooting down beneath the sheets, his mouth and hands seeking Brendan's warm, naked body. He wouldn't touch the shaft—not right away. First he would lick Brendan's balls, gliding over the soft, loose flesh, inhaling the rich musk of his lover.

  He would take each ball into his mouth, worshipping it with his tongue, his lips, the slightest nudge of his teeth. Brendan would stir in his sleep but not fully waken. Tuck would push his lover's thighs apart and lower his head. With a feather-light touch, he would tongue the tiny puckered entrance, which later he would plunder while Brendan knelt on his hands and knees, spreading himself for Tuck's tender but insistent invasion.

  When Brendan's cock was engorged, Tuck would grab the base of it and lower his mouth over its satin heat. He would take his time, licking, sucking, bringing him nearly to the edge, only to pull back to watch the play of raw emotion slide over Brendan's face.

  He wouldn't let Brendan come until he begged for it. Then he would apply himself with the dedication of a desperate man, taking the length of Brendan's shaft deep into his throat, not letting go until he'd siphoned every precious drop.

  Tuck pressed his palm hard against his erection through the denim, his mind filled with the fantasy, his eyes filled with the vision of the gorgeous, naked man before him. What would happen if he stripped off his clothes and entered the shower stall, kneeling in front of Brendan, pushing his hands away so he could take the shaft lovingly between his lips?

  He would cup Brendan's balls while sucking him to ecstasy. Would Brendan keep his eyes squeezed shut and pretend it was a woman at his feet? Or would he open them and whisper Tuck's name with grateful wonder?

  Who was he kidding? Brendan would probably yell for Tuck to get the hell away, if he didn't punch him in the jaw first.

  Brendan half-turned as he began to ejaculate, drawing Tuck's eye to his muscular, small ass in profile. Tuck's balls ached, his cock twisting uncomfortably in his jeans. In a moment Brendan would open his eyes. He would see Tuck there, spying on him, the raw lust naked in his eyes. Wrenching himself from the sexy scene, Tuck slipped away.

  * * * *

  "Gin.” Jamie Hunter slapped the cards down on the table with a flourish and grinned. It was the last night before the final plane returned to carry him, along with David Tucker and Brendan Aaronson, back to civilization. The rest of the twenty-one-man lab crew had been airlifted out the day before, as February moved to a close, signaling the onset of winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

  At the last minute they'd decided to take back some equipment for calibration, so there ended up being a shortage of space on the plane sent to collect the crew. The three scientists had volunteered to stay the extra two nights until a plane could return for them.

  Jamie, at twenty-five the youngest guy on the team, had been thrilled to get the position as research assistant. He owed the assignment t
o Tuck, who worked with him at the Wexler Institute in Monterey. Dr. Tucker, who worked in a different lab and, Jamie had thought, barely knew he existed, had recommended Jamie for the position when someone had dropped out at the last minute.

  It was an incredible project to be involved in, with recent advances in deep core drilling technology enabling their drilling engineers to extrude core samples from the ice divide that contained an accumulation of snow and ice from previous time periods. The composition of these ice cores would allow them to study greenhouse gas emissions over forty thousand years.

  Tuck and Brendan, both with PhDs in molecular bioscience and some major publications already under their belts, were regarded as experts in the field. Jamie admired them both for their work and dedication, but he couldn't deny he also admired them for their seriously hot looks.

  Tuck was the tall, dark and handsome one, with straight black hair, deep-set dark eyes and a sexy five-o'clock shadow even when he'd just shaved. Jamie had been aware of him back at the labs in California, but had never had the chance to get to know him. He'd seen him from time to time in the company of women and had just assumed he was straight. Beyond that, he'd always promised himself never to get involved with someone he worked with and so far that policy had stead him well.

  Brendan, with gray green eyes and a muscular build, had sun-streaked blond hair curling down the back of his neck and a spectacular smile that made Jamie's heart clutch the rare times it had been bestowed upon him.

  The only available place to jerk off was in the shower stall, since the men shared sleeping quarters. Many hot scenarios involving both Tuck and Brendan, together and alone, had played through Jamie's mind while he pumped himself to a rapid orgasm, mindful not to use up the hot water before the next guy had his turn.

  Not that he'd ever given either guy the slightest indication of his attraction to them over the six weeks they'd been in such close quarters. Though he never pretended to be straight, nor did Jamie advertise his homosexuality. It was nobody's business. Especially not in the confines of an enclosed science lab built on a slab of ice in the middle of nowhere, with no way out if things became awkward. Nevertheless, a guy could dream.

  Tuck threw down his hands with mock exasperation. “What, again? Are you sure these cards aren't marked?"

  "Food's ready.” Brendan leaned his head into the sleeping quarters where Tuck and Jamie were playing cards. All the cots had been stripped of their bedding, except for their three, still covered with sheets and bright red thick down quilts.

  The kitchen was located just off the sleeping quarters and tonight Brendan had volunteered to make the meal. As they sat at the long table, now set only for three, Jamie glanced out the window. “Hey, it's snowing.” The other two men looked up.

  "I noticed a storm system working its way toward us on the radar.” Brendan frowned. “I didn't think it'd get here so quick, though. It wasn't predicted to get this far until sometime after we flew out in the morning. Hopefully it won't affect our plans.” They watched the whirling snow for several moments. It was falling fast, though the winds seemed relatively calm.

  "Well, nothing we can do about it now,” Brendan continued philosophically. “In the morning we can shovel out and make sure there's a decent landing strip for the plane. Meanwhile, help yourselves to my specialty."

  They dug into the plates of spaghetti and meatballs he had set before them, which was the only thing Jamie had seen Brendan make when it was his turn to cook. He'd made lemonade from a powdered mix to go with it. Though there was still some canned and packaged food in the pantries, food that would be left in the lab over the winter, the refrigerated supplies had been depleted in anticipation of the project's end.

  The whole place had been cleared out, all the expensive lab equipment carefully packed and removed to labs in warmer climes until the work resumed in October. Without all the usual hubbub of the rest of the crew, the place was empty, almost lonely.

  "Hey, I almost forgot. I was saving this for a special occasion. Be right back.” In a moment Tuck returned, waving a bottle of wine toward them. He pulled a Swiss army knife from his pocket and used the small corkscrew to remove the cork.

  The lab not being equipped with wineglasses, Brendan retrieved three juice glasses from the cabinet. Jamie watched as Tuck filled them. He noticed, not for the first time, Tuck's large hands and long, thick fingers and marveled how he could handle delicate scientific equipment with the precision and accuracy that he did. He couldn't help the road along which his thoughts invariably meandered, wondering how his hand size compared to other parts of his anatomy...

  Tuck lifted his glass in a toast, jerking Jamie from his sexual speculation. “To a job well done. I can't believe it's ending already. You guys have been really great to work with.” He turned to Jamie with a smile. “Jamie, your support over these weeks has been invaluable. You should have more than enough data to complete your dissertation, but beyond that, you're making a vital contribution to the global scientific community."

  "Thanks.” Jamie felt curiously let down by the rather formal commendation, though he appreciated it. He stared at Tuck, searching for something more personal behind the words.

  If he hadn't been scrutinizing him so closely, he might have missed the sudden glimpse of desperate yearning that flashed over his features as Tuck turned to Brendan. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, Tuck's face again composed into a bland smile as he offered praise for Brendan as innocuous as that which he'd offered Jamie.

  The meal over, they washed and put away the dishes. “It's weird having nothing to do, with the labs emptied out,” Tuck observed, as they settled on the beat-up old sofa in their sleeping quarters to watch a video on Brendan's large laptop.

  Brendan assumed his team leader persona. “We could do some more analysis on the latest ice core readings. I have some detailed graphs worked up—"

  Both Jamie and Tucker threw their pillows at him. He lifted his hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, okay. We'll watch a movie."

  * * * *

  The room was dark, save for the silvered light emanating from the screen, etching the profiles of Brendan and Jamie beside him. Both appeared to be engrossed in the film but Tuck couldn't have even said what it was about. All he could think of was Brendan, who sat so close he could reach over and touch his thigh.

  It was hard to believe this was their last night together. Tuck and Jamie would return to their lab in Monterey—Brendan to his research at the Kramer Institute in Washington State. Was he really going to blow it again? To let Brendan get away without even telling him how he felt?

  He'd hoped to find a way during this project to get closer to Brendan—to try to rekindle the heat he now wondered if maybe he'd only imagined because his own desire loomed so large. Yet in the six weeks they'd been working on the Antarctica project, he'd had no opportunity to be alone with Brendan.

  They had played several games of football on calm afternoons with some of the other guys. Though the air was below freezing it felt much warmer with the sun reflecting off the white snow causing them to sweat beneath their layers.

  Each time they'd been on opposite teams and each time Tuck had managed to tackle Brendan, the only physical contact he dared to make.

  Two days before, Brendan had been the one to bring Tuck down onto the hard-packed snow. He'd fallen heavily over Tuck as they grappled for the ball. When he'd landed, they'd been cheek to cheek for a moment, Brendan's breath crystallizing in the air just beside Tuck's ear. He'd had a nearly uncontrollable desire to pull Brendan's face to his and kiss him.

  Brendan had lain on top of him for several long, tantalizing seconds, during which Tuck's cock had risen hard against Brendan's thigh. Brendan scrambled up, catching Tuck's gaze. Tuck could have sworn he'd seen something there—a spark of desire—secret and fleeting, but undeniable.

  Back when they'd worked together the prior year, Brendan had just broken up with a girlfriend he'd been seeing for a while. Tuck
still remembered the conversation, especially Brendan's seemingly offhand comment: “I just don't get women, you know? Sometimes I think it would be easier to be involved with a guy. At least they say what they mean. You know where you stand."

  "Yeah, I know what you mean,” Tuck had agreed, not daring back then to follow up in a more serious vein. As he thought over the conversation several hundred times over the next year, he had to laugh at the irony of Brendan's remark. Tuck certainly hadn't said what he meant and as far as he knew, Brendan had no clue Tuck was attracted to him.

  They'd lost touch and though Tuck had thought many times about him, he hadn't taken any real action to find him. He couldn't stand to take the chance of a rebuff, which was almost surely what would happen if he made his feelings known.

  Tuck, who hated to fail, no matter what the endeavor, tried to tell himself it was just a passing infatuation, based on as little as the moss green of Brendan's eyes, which crinkled into half moons when he smiled.

  Yet how Tuck's heart had leapt when he had been offered a position as a research analyst on the West Antarctic Deep Ice Project, and discovered Brendan Aaronson was on the roster. He'd decided then it was fate that they meet again and this time, he'd vowed, he would find a way to let Brendan know his feelings, and then let the chips fall where they may.

  But the six weeks had come and gone, each of them extremely busy with their work. With the communal, cramped sleeping quarters and twenty-one guys always milling around, there had been little-to-no opportunity to make his feelings known.

  Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe on the plane ride back to the States he would make a move.

  * * * *

  It took Brendan a moment to realize he was awake. The low, whistling howl that had manifested itself as wolves in his dream was in fact a tearing wind. The frame of their modular building shuddered, causing a ripple in the insulated fabric covering the walls and ceiling.

  Brendan sat up, reaching for the flashlight beneath his cot. He clicked it on and shone it around the room. Both the other men were sleeping, Jamie completely hidden beneath his quilt, Tuck with one arm flung over his face.