Of Bake Sales, Summertime, and Young Love:
Nachzes Black-Rider

It was hot out—and not just the normal, “Wow, hot out today, ain’t it?”. No—today it was hot as in the “Fuck, man, it’s damn hot out today!”.

Heat waves rose from the sidewalk, flowers drooped on their stems, and time seemed to pass as though it were crawling through molasses.

“Well, you couldn’t have picked a better day to hold the Bake Sale, Niko,” Ryan Malcom said, poking his boyfriend in the side as he tore open a candy wrapper. “Really,” he added solemnly, taking a bite of chocolate.

“Shut up, dickhead,” Nicholas muttered, carefully guiding the rusted blue Ford pickup around a pothole. “And stop poking me,” he snapped, “I’m driving.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and stopped, taking another bite of his Hershey bar. Glancing into the back of the cab (where the Tupperware containers of cookies were stacked), he said, thoughtfully, “I think we should sell lemonade, too. It’s cold. And traditional.”

“Are you offering to make it?” Nicholas asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the younger.

A groan, and Ryan punched Nick in the shoulder playfully. “Yes, idiot, I’ll make the lemonade.”

“Do I get it for free?”

“Asshole! No, of course not! Why would you?”

Nicholas flashed the other a rakish grin. “Because I am wild, older, damn sexy, and your dear boyfriend?”

Sticking out a chocolate-coated tongue, Ryan replied haughtily—or as haughty as one can be with a mouthful of chocolate—“Just for that, Mr. Egotistical, you have to pay twice as much.”

Nicholas smirked and stopped the truck, opening his door, and climbing out, shutting it with a bang. Walking around to open Ryan’s door, he said, casually, “do I have to pay with money?”

Ryan jumped out of the cab, grinning, teeth still stained brown. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t care—pay however you see fit. Hey!”

Nicholas grinned, pushing the other up against the side of the truck. “Excellent,” he said, and pressed his lips against Ryan’s.

A few heated minutes passed, with Nicholas’s tongue plundering Ryan’s mouth, and rough, male hands clinging and pulling at clothes, and then the two broke apart, panting heavily.

“Wow…” gasped Ryan, dazed. “That was mind-blowing. I think you just bought yourself a couple pitchers of lemonade.”

“Tch,” said Nicholas, “lemonade is gross. I just wanted some of that chocolate.”

Ryan groaned. “Idiot,” he scoffed, and pulled Nick towards him again.

End