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“I have a thing foryouin uniform, apparently. Don’t get me thinking about you at Halloween. Half-naked fireman? Sexy cop? Yes, please.”
August chuckles, and then he pulls me between his legs and wraps the sleeping bag over us.
“What were you for Halloween last year?” he asks.
“Oh god, Lex found these stupid costumes. A plug and a socket. Although we got into an argument because he wanted to be the plug, and I was like, no, Lex. I am always the plug.”
August stiffens behind me.
“Do you mean…are you and Lex…I thought he was a friend?”
Oh shit. Shouldn’t have blurted that out. “Um, well, Lex and I are sort of friends who fuck sometimes. But, you know, it’s been a while since we’ve done anything and it was never anything serious.”
August clears his throat, and I feel my heart sink because August isn’t the kind of guy to casually fuck. At least, I don’t think he is. I’ve built him up in my mind, and probably made lots of assumptions.
But if he does causally fuck, I imagine he never steals off into the night. And if for some reason he does have to leave suddenly, he probably leaves a nice note in the morning with a mint on the pillow.
“I see.”
“Do you?” I ask, turning slightly and looking at him.
“I do.”
Oh, Jesus, I hate reading between the lines. I’m terrible at it.
Thanks, Mom.
“Can you tell me exactly what youseebecause, you know, perception is different for everyone, and I’m not sure you see what I see.”
“You and Lex casually fuck, and if you’re always the plug, then…I can guess what that means.”
“Righto, but it is important to note that I said we haven’t done anything at all recently. It was just convenient…until it wasn’t. I mean, I don’t even really like Lex. He’s annoying. He’s like a mosquito bite.”
August watches me and then gives a clipped nod, and I fidget between his legs.
“I think we should have the conversation where we discuss this. I am literally dying not having it. And we have nothing else to do. Why can’t we just lay it all out there? Do we really need to wait until we’re rescued?”
I nervously grab onto a box of Gobstoppers and push two into my mouth, rolling them across my tongue and waiting.
“I really think we should table it until we get home,” August says, and I groan my disapproval loudly.
God, this man is ridiculous. If I don’t die from blue balls, I’ll die from waiting around to have this motherfucking discussion.
“Fine,” I grumble and then turn to rest my cheek against his chest. “I hope someone comes right now.”
“Me too,” August says, and then he holds out the pack of cards. “But in the meantime, want to play a game?”
“As long as it’s not poker. I have a bazillion tells.”
August chuckles. “I bet you do. How about Go Fish?”
* * *
I’m pressed against August as he dozes. I can’t sleep because I’m replaying the last few hours over and over in my mind. We played Go Fish because I didn’t stand a chance playing anything else. And I still convinced him that whoever lost had to strip.
But we realized that it was too cold to actually take off our clothes, so I made a rule that we’d have to offer up a body part for tactile consumption.
I squirm on top of him and press my nose into his neck. Fuck, we haven’t showered in days and he still smells like fresh laundry. How is that even possible? I need to figure out a way to lock this man down and keep him. I wonder if Mpreg is a real thing…I should research it when we get home.
