Page 7 of Axes and Ohs

Holy fuck, could you be more awkward, Erick? Jesus.

But then he smiles, brighter than the brightest star in any constellation.

“I love that,” he whispers. “Fuck, we should all be doing that. Living our best, most honest lives, or whatever. But I don’t think that’s impulsive either, Erick,” he says seriously. “I think you sound like a man who already knows what he wants. At least, in some respects. And that’s hot as fuck.”

The air between us practically crackles, it’s so charged with possibility. I lean forward slightly, and Carlos mirrors the movement.

“Now this, on the other hand,” he says softly, “this is impulsive.”

“Oh,” I say nonsensically.

Then he closes the distance between us and kisses me.

My hands come up to cup his face as I kiss him back. His lips are warm and taste a little like beer and a lot like him.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.

“B-better or worse than the mechanical bull?” I ask.

He huffs. “I don’t know. I haven’t landed yet. Come with me?” He stands and holds out a hand.

I nod, probably too eagerly, and Carlos drops a few bills on the bar for whenever Ames comes back.

He leads me through the mostly empty restaurant and out onto a dark, deserted back patio strung with fairy lights. It’s cool, bordering on cold, out here, and I shiver slightly in my button-down shirt. Carlos steps closer, his body hot against mine.

“Better?”

“Much,” I say, meaning it. Lots of things feel better when Carlos is close to me.

I kiss him again, more urgently this time, and he responds with no hesitation. The way his hands slide into my hair and his body presses against mine feels so fucking right. Not like his first time at all.

“God,” he breathes against my mouth. “You’re so…”

“Not a woman?” I tease. “Masculine and manly and not at all like Marnie?”

“Beautiful,” he corrects. “And funny. I like you.”

I inhale sharply because… fuck. He’s not exactly spouting poetry here, but he’s so fucking sincere. And it turns out sincerity is my kink because heat floods my stomach.

He presses me back against the wooden fence.

“Erick,” he pants.

My lips hover over his. “Tell me what you want. Be impulsive.”

“You. Fuck. I want to… I want to feel you.” He rocks his hips against mine, and the friction makes us both groan. He’s hard and huge against my thigh.

I slide my hand between us, palming him through his jeans. I’m not drunk—not on the alcohol anyway—but the overwhelming want I feel for this guy is making me lightheaded. I don’t care that we could be caught at any moment. In fact, that only heightens my arousal.

“Like this?” I whisper.

His head falls back on a choked moan. “I… yes.” The admission sounds like it’s torn out of him. “Fuck, yes.”

I quickly work open his belt, and when I wrap my hand around the smooth heat of him, Carlos makes a sound like he’s been electrocuted. He fumbles with my pants too, hands shaking slightly, and then we’re pressed together, all friction and need.

It’s fucking glorious. I can’t remember the last time I felt so wanted. So fully me.

“This okay?” I ask as I jerk us together.