The moon was glaring in at him, just staring in through the hotel room window, so Joaquim slipped on a pair of sweats and headed out to the hallway. He got a Coke and a chocolate bar and padded down the stairs to the parking lot.
Deus, it was colder than it looked. Almost bitter. He found a little ledge, sat and opened his soda.
92.5 points.
It had been something. Amazing.
The arena had gone wild.
Joaquim grinned, licking the mouth of the bottle, legs swinging against the retaining wall.
The side door of the hotel opened, a wide-shouldered form coming out, the ratty old bathrobe unmistakable. "You okay, Joaquim?" Baltazar Silva asked, coming to put a hand on his shoulder.
"Mmm. Sim, Balta. I was trying not to wake you." That hand was heavy.
Warm.
Solid.
"I missed you, huh?" That grin was famous in the world of bullriding, wide and happy and for him? Utterly guileless.
Joa chuckled, nodded, finishing his drink. "Come on; you've got to be cold, yeah?" Hell, he was cold and he'd been in Texas since he was four. Balta wasn't nearly as used to it.
One blunt finger rubbed over his nipple. "You're the cold one, namorado. Come inside. We'll take a shower." Balta was a water baby, loving a shower or a bath or a pool. Day or night.
His nipple went hard, tight enough that it ached, deep in his belly.
"You ready?" Now Balta's grin took on a glint of the pure devil, the man turning and heading inside. The robe should have been a terrible turn off. It wasn't.
They were on the first floor, three doors down from Dillon and Nate, two doors over from Xavier and Renaldo. They didn't have to be too quiet, too still. Too careful. Lord, forgive him.
They got the hotel door open, got the deadlock turned. Balta turned, pressing him back against the door, big hands pushing at his sweats. So fast, and just that quickly, he wasn't cold anymore.
"Balta." He arched, pushing up into those hands, cock filling up and reaching for the one it wanted.
"Yes?" Full of laughter and want, Balta's voice taunted him, going deep and rough. It was Balta's hands, though, that made him moan, made him shake. They traced his chest, his abs, going behind him to cup his ass.
"Voci e o diabo." The devil, bone deep. The Portuguese didn't come as easily to him as some.
Chuckling, Balta nibbled at his neck, licking up to his chin. "You think so? I think I just want you."
"I think so." His skin tingled, waking up for Balta's lips.
"What does that make you? Um anjo?" An angel? Him?
)
