“Heated” appears in Best Gay Erotica 2009, from Cleis Press, edited by Richard Labonte. The book is a finalist for the Lambda Literary Awards in the Gay Erotica category.
A few steps beyond the barn, my boot knocked into something heavy. One of our oxygen canisters, probably discarded by one of our guys in the middle of firefighting and forgotten. I tucked it under one arm.
It was dark behind the barn but a little glow from the security light back by the manure pile made the walk navigable. Passing the corral, I heard a grunt or groan or something. I stood still for a few seconds, wondering if it were an escaped horse. But it didn’t sound like a horse.
There it was again. A throaty groan. Definitely human. I peeked through the boards of the round corral. A figure crouched near the gate, hanging onto the sides, bent over.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” I kept my voice quiet.
No answer.
I stepped around the boards and found the gate. The latch had some kind of weird clip on it; it took me a few seconds to open it. The figure rose and turned away from me.
“Are you all right?” Now I could see his slender build and the tank top I’d given back to him hours earlier.
“I’m fine, man, I’m okay.” His voice was thick, teary.
I let the gate close behind me. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted from the woods on the north side. His breathing was still harsh. Shook up and showing it.
“You ever been in an emergency before?” I asked.
“No,” he said, still facing away from me. “Well, we had a horse break down at a show once. Does that count?” He gave a shaky laugh and turned to look at me.
I could see his face in the dim glow. His eyes were wide and face and neck were smudged with grime and ash. He raked a trembling hand through his gritty hair.
“You did a stupid thing going back into that barn.”
“But at least Stacy’s safe. And the baby.” He put one palm on his forehead, eyebrows crunched together. “God, we lost two horses! Fuck!”
“But you saved most of them,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, I guess we did.”
“Do you have any idea how much worse it could have been? If your whole barn had been wood?”
“I guess you’re right.” He stuck out one hand. “And thanks to you.”
I took his hand, gave it a manly shake. “What you’re feeling is just adrenaline wearing off. Tomorrow morning you’ll probably feel like you got run over.”
He moved closer to me, keeping hold of my hand. “Maybe not just adrenaline.
The eye contact is what tells you first. A full, direct gaze that says he’s interested. A smoky, come-hither look that say he’s horny. A heated stare that says come here and fuck me.
In the dimness, his hand on my neck startled me at first. Then his fingers moved down my arm, the heavy coat protecting me from any real touch. I moved to slide it off but he shook his head. “Leave it on.”
His jeans were loose over his hips. He leaned on the fence and planted his hands on the rough boards. I tugged his slender arms up higher and pressed him closer to the fencing. His back arched as I stroked down his torso. I went from his fingertips to his neck then down to his waist. With each stroke I pressed harder and harder until I was scratching down him. He groaned.
“More.”