Heat "Heat" first appeared on Torquere Press (torquerepress.com) in September 2004, as 3rd place winner in their Melt short fiction contest. It then appeared in the erotic ezine Ruthie's Club (www.ruthiesclub.com/gateway.php) in June 2005. ***** June in New Orleans. Hot and sticky and ripe with the smell of the river. Hours after the sun goes down, the heat still smacks you in the face the second you step outside. So different from the tiny northern town that Zach and I call home. I like it here. I like the musky wet scent of the Mississippi. I like the humidity. I like the suffocating heat. This city seethes with life and secrets. You can smell it in the air. Zach thinks I’m nuts. He gives me the evil eye as he fans himself with a drinks menu. “Let’s go inside,” he says. “It’s too hot out here.” ‘Here’ being the patio bar at the world-famous Pat O’Brien’s. Zach wanted to go to the indoor bar, but I insisted on sitting out in the courtyard. It’s noisy and crowded and sweltering. It excites me. “I like the heat.” “For fuck’s sake, why? You’re crazy, Ian.” The way he looks right now is reason enough to love the heat. His dark hair clings to his flushed cheeks and his T-shirt is transparent with sweat. Just looking at him gives me a hard-on. “You’re sexy when you sweat,” I tell him. He grins. “Turns you on, huh?” “Sure does.” “C’mere.” I lean toward him and we kiss. The Hurricane he’s drinking makes his mouth taste like rum and fruit, and his tongue feels cold against mine. It gives me a wicked idea. I pull back and glance around. We’re in a back corner of the courtyard, surrounded by trees and shrubs. A large oleander obscures one side of our table. Perfect. “Move your chair over there next to the oleander." “Why?” “You’ll see.” Zach gives me a look that says he thinks I’ve lost it, but he does as I ask. I grab my drink and slip underneath the table to kneel at his feet. He leans sideways and peers curiously at me. “Ian, what are you doing?” I nudge his knees apart and scoot between his legs. “Don’t worry, no one can see me.” “Ian...” He stops talking when I flip the button of his shorts open and pull down his zipper with my teeth. He’s not wearing underwear. He never does. I slide a couple of ice cubes into my mouth and swallow his cock whole. He lets out a strangled yelp and immediately hardens in my mouth. I suck him nice and slow, taking my time. I dip my fingers into the melting ice in my glass and rub the liquid over his balls and as far into the cleft of his ass as I can reach. He squirms at my touch. The taste of his skin intoxicates me far more than the Hurricane did. I wish I could shove his legs up and tease his hole with my cold tongue. The heat of his cock melts the ice, but there’s plenty more. I pop fresh cubes into my mouth every few seconds and keep sucking. Before long, his body tenses and he comes in my mouth. I slide into his lap, press my mouth to his, and give him his own iced semen to drink. “You’re a hopeless perv,” he says when we pull apart. “But I like it.” His gaze is heavy and sated. I love knowing that I put that look in his eyes. “I dragged you out here, the least I could do is cool you off.” He smiles at me and my heart lurches. I’d do anything for that smile. “Thanks, baby,” he says. “Hey, you want to go somewhere really hot now?” “Where?” “My ass.” He reaches down between us and squeezes my cock through my shorts. His touch sends electric shocks shooting through me. “Let’s get out of here.” I grin at him as he zips his shorts and we get up to leave. I bet he’ll stop complaining about the heat when I spread his legs and fuck him. Who needs air conditioning when you’ve got love?