Page 14 of Cuervo's Carnival
We exchange a suspicious look as he parts his lips, visibly perturbed. “What the fuck now?” he mutters, as we both retrieve our phones from our back pockets.
We open our messages at the same time, realizing that we’ve been added to a group message by a number neither of us recognizes.
My brows furrow as I read the cryptic message sent to both of us.
Unknown: “Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too.They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.” – Stephen King.
“Who the fuck randomly texts someone a Stephen King quote, let alone this one? I’m telling you, Pax, if some ghost pops out and tries some shit, I’m going to kill you,” Cillian says, trying to joke, but he and I both are still trying to process the message.
“I don’t recognize the number,” I say, stating the obvious.
“Yea, me fucking either,” Cillian kicks up dirt, staring at what is left of the joint.
Shit, we don’t need this today, or at all. Before Cillian and I can talk any more about the cryptic text, our attention is stolen by the sound of gears being revved in the distance.
I look down at the time on my phone and relief washes over me. I glance over to Cillian, who also takes notice of the time, and an equally relieved expression takes over him, as well.
Gripping my phone, I raise it playfully in front of his face. “Seven on the dot.”
“Thank fuck,” Cillian says, tossing his phone back in his pocket. “Everything set up for tonight?”
“Yea, I mean, as good as it’s going to get. I put the generator on a little while ago. So, hopefully it will work,” I say as we walk toward the entrance.
It’s a miracle we even got the Amontillado’s Mortuary ride working, but somehow, it was the only ride that looked spared of the cumbersome overgrowth. The track inside and handlebars on the rider cars work as if they are brand new. It’s crazy. We know how much Lola loves rides like that. So, getting that one back up and running fully was both our idea to help sell her on the place. Although, knowing her, anywhere where we can be together is all she needs.
As she gets closer, the familiar rumble of her Harley soothes our anxiety as the eagerness to see her takes over. I turn to him, grabbing his face in my hands. Beneath my grip, he shakes his head, trying to get the hair that drapes over his eyes out of his way.
“It’s going to be ok,” I reassure him before pressing my lips to his, still cupping his face.
His black polish invades my peripheral vision as he brings his palms to my forearms, gripping them firmly. Parting his lips, I swirl my tongue inside his ready mouth while he returns my kiss. The textured cap of his tongue piercing glides across my curled tongue, driving an ache down to my length. I release his mouth, still holding his face. “Do you believe me?” I ask.
He flashes a pearly white grin. Fuck, I love when he smiles. He is always so damn stoic. When he lets go of all he keeps locked within that mind of his, and allows himself to just be and smile, it is a fucking beautiful sight.
“Do I have a choice?” he teases, leaning in for another quick kiss before releasing his hold on my forearms.
Our calloused palms now at our sides, we interlock our fingers while we wait for Lola to approach what once stood as the main parking lot. Now, it resembles an ancient ruin, with cracked concrete and piles of rocks and weeds spewed all about.
A few moments later, the matte black bike comes into focus when we see her swerving around a pothole. Even in her blacked-out helmet that conceals her perfect face, she still shines.
The effect that she has on us is un-fucking real. Loving her is as simple as it is complex, but no obstacle is worth living a life without her by our side.
She is our center, and we are her wings.
Our wickedMortahas brought Cillian and me closer, brought us to places that we always wanted to explore yet were too afraid to, until she guided us. She unlocked parts of us that we always knew were there but suppressed. She opened our hearts to each other and to her. We are hers, and she is ours. Nothing can take her from us, not even the curse of the Reaper oath.
`“There’s our girl,” Cillian smirks. “And would you look at that, she wore our favorite…handlebars.” He winks, as he runs his hand playfully over the hardened bulge overtop my pants.
Taking off her helmet and storing it in the compartment behind her seat, she looks up at us, batting her cat-like eyeliner.
Blood rushes to my cock, thinking of the fun the three of us are about to have tonight, and, if fate allows, the rest of our lives.
7
Lola
The acrid scentof freshly smoked cannabis pervades my nostrils as my body is invaded by impatient palms.
Cillian settles his touch on the small of my back, pulling me closer, while Paxton reaches for my face, tilting it upward.
