SO I HERD U LIEK CATS.
WHO: That Cat Guy, I mean, Heracles and Martín.
WHEN: RIGHT NOW. Thursday evening. (July 8th)
WHERE: Herc's house in Ocean View.
WHAT: Can't two guys just get together to talk about some felines? Sheeeeesh.
RATING: TBA, but probably not for chilluns.
It was Martín's birthday tomorrow.
The big two-three.
Twenty-two plus one.
Fuck.
This... he was desperately trying not to be reminded of, even going so far as to deliberate the merits of changing the current date on his mobile. He didn't want to be old. That morning he had woken up with the distinct impression that it was the ninth (gasp) rather than the eighth; and as a result, he hid his head under the pillows for at least an hour dreading a long-distance phone call from his mother. But no call ever came. Gracias a Dios.
Luckily, he had found something to take his mind off of things. Or rather, someone. Running away from a good-looking chabón or mina was not exactly his modus operandi, and so it's not at all an accident that mere minutes after being formally introduced and casually chatting about the weather that his lips parted and found the other man's, hungrily kissing the stranger. It's not at all an accident that they fell down down down, unceremoniously tumbled to the floor in a mess of limbs. He wasted no time sitting astride the poor Greek's hips and shoving him into the carpet with a mocking little laugh. Flat on his back. If he liked the look of him before he liked him even better from this vantage point.
Looking at once smug and excited, Martín gazed down at the older man, pupils too wide and dark, almost obscuring the vivid green of his eyes. He trailed the tapered tips of his long fingers down Heracles' chest, scalding him right through his shirt, his own skin slightly sticky with sweat from the warm July night.