Page 98 of Unalive On Air

I have less than a second to process what happens next. Trystan scoots closer to me on the sofa, his hand shoots up and slots itself under my left ear, and then he’s pressing his lips to mine.

I’m pretty sure I whimper before kissing him back.

His lips are pillowy soft and moist, and I’m so glad death hasn’t stolen the pleasure of a decent snog from me.

Suddenly, Trystan stops, pulls away, his chest heaving. “Sorry. I . . .”

“Don’t apologise for kissing me,” I pant. “That was also on my list of stuff I’d quite like to do.”

Trystan smiles, takes my face in both of his hands, and kisses me again. This time as my lips part, he brushes his tongue against mine. Our teeth knock together, our breaths mingle, and things get uncomfortably tight in the lower half of my ExorSquad overalls.

My glasses are squished between us. Trystan whips them off my head and tosses them across the hut, and then he’s on top of me, the delicious weight of him pressing down upon me—sort of but not really—into the mouldy couch.

“Gary,” he says, breathless.

It will never be enough, I realise. I’ll need a millennium just to appreciate the sound of my name in his mouth. I could live a thousand lifetimes and still this moment, right now in death, would trounce them all.

“Gary, tell me if you want me to stop.”

I laugh because I’ve honestly never heard anything so ridiculous in the entirety of human history.

“Can I?” he says, fingers poised above my overall zipper at my throat. I nod, it’s about all I can manage, and he unwraps me like a gift on Christmas morning. Slowly, savouringly, as though I’m something special.

I sit up and Trystan rolls my uniform over my shoulders. He pauses, grabs the hem of my vest, and tugs it upwards until I’m sitting in front of him bare chested. Big, hairy belly hanging out for the world to see.

And when I say the world, I mean my world.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his hands landing squarely on my tummy, his fingertips disappearing under my fuzz.

Me of a few years ago would’ve argued with him, would have said, “Don’t be stupid, I’m not beautiful.” Hell, even me of a few weeks ago might have, but as it turns out, souls and spirits are so much more than the bodies that house them.

And if Trystan Retallack thinks my fat belly is beautiful, who the fuck am I to disagree with that?

He kisses me again. This time taking his gentle, butterfly movements down my throat, along my collarbone. He cups my chest and takes my nipple between his lips, then his teeth, and the noise that escapes me is borderline feral, a zoo animal escaping its enclosure.

“Ohhh,” Trystan whines. “Shit, that’s so hot.” He idly rubs a hand over the bulge in his board shorts and moves his kisses lower.

A very real and terrifying thought pops into my head. What if this is my unfinished business? What if we fuck right here, and I just float away afterwards?

Yeah, even so, I’m willing to take that risk.

“I want to . . .” Trystan says, breathless. “I want to do things to you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I say, equally breathless. “Anything you want.” Everything you want.

He swallows. Drags his thumb along the stubble on my jaw. “I want to fuck you under the stars. And then I want you to fuck me, and we’ll just keep switching until the dog walkers turn up.”

“That sounds like the best plan I’ve ever heard.” I stand up and step out of my overalls, kicking them aside. Now I’m only wearing my pants and socks, which looks weird, so I quickly lose the socks.

Trystan shucks his shirt, tears off his racer-back, and grabs my hand, pulling me through the hut’s wall. The beach is blissfully devoid of living people, and it’s dark and sheltered enough by the cliff that if any ghosts looked out of the hotel windows, they wouldn’t see us.

Not that I’d care even if they did.

I can almost feel the sand below my bare soles. It’s cool, and a little damp. Trystan runs towards the ocean, and stops directly opposite me. He lets go of my hand, and without taking his eyes off mine, he drops his shorts and his boxers to the ground.

Trystan Retallack is standing in front of me, naked and bathed in moonlight. His cock sits flush against his belly, and it’s all absolutely fucking glorious.

I drop to my knees.