A Little Salsa

“The food smells great.”

Amused hazel eyes slid across the table to his lover, Rick grinning at him and leaning forward expectantly as the kitchen door opened to waft heat and the sound of some baseball game over them. Gabe again fought the urge to sigh and sat up a little straighter. He leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching and Rick’s dark brown eyes were glinting just in front of him.

“This is not the kind of cuisine I anticipated on our tropical vacation,” Gabe said dryly.

Rick laughed, the motion causing his head to throw back as the sound rolled richly through the little hole in the wall. Gabe let his eyes wander all over the other man, caressing with his sight just where he wanted to run his fingers. Rick’s sandy blonde hair was cut jaggedly around his face; the light complexion of his skin now burnt a permanent shade of pink that made him look like he was always blushing. It was a definite perk of agreeing to come to some place with so much sun. Rick’s fingers brushed across his and the other man adjusted the over the table top decoration between them.

“I thought it’d be fun,” he chuckled. “We’ll have something really native tomorrow, I promise.”

Gabe smiled slightly and took a long drink from his beer, his lips trying to smirk as he felt Rick’s eyes on his mouth and throat. They’d met in a place much like this one, both of them so damned drunk that they could barely remember their own names. It was supposed to be a one night stand, a quick fling with lots of panting, sweating, and howling. They’d parted on good terms with no expectations.

And then ended up extending their casual sex to another night. And then another. And then exclusively to each other. And three years had passed before either one of them brought up the fact that they were actually in a relationship with each other.

Rick leaned across the table and pulled a random piece of confetti from Gabe’s tawny colored hair, the lithe fingers lingering at Gabe’s cheek for a split second.

“Do you like our vacation so far?” Rick asked.

“We’ve barely left the hotel room,” Gabe answered with a lecherous grin. “I love it.”

Rick laughed again, his whole body moving with it once more and Gabe did sigh now, but only with contentment. Three days holed up in a posh suite with nothing to distract him from Rick’s body. If there was a better vacation, Gabe didn’t know what it was. If Rick hadn’t been so insistent about not ordering room service again, Gabe would never have allowed either of them to even climb out of bed.

But Rick wanted to see the island they’d paid so much to come to and there was no way in hell Gabe was going to let the other man run around gay paradise without him. They’d stumbled over Chimmy’s Mexican Bar and Grill on accident and Rick had practically started salivating over the smell of beans and tortillas.

“You have hideous taste,” Gabe said as he looked around the little dining room again.

“Only in men,” Rick answered in a soft deadpan.

Gabe’s eyes glided back to him and Rick smirked before he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. Gabe snorted and one hand caught the back of Rick’s head, holding the other man still. He pushed his tongue forward and deepened the kiss. He felt Rick’s spine tense for a split second before the other man shuddered and sank contentedly into the kiss. Gabe’s tongue found every warm niche in Rick’s mouth and excitedly wormed across them as if they were brand new discoveries. Rick’s breath hitched slightly and then he swiped his own tongue over Gabe’s, inviting it deeper and encouraging it to playfully tussle through his mouth.

The table rattled abruptly as their server dropped a bowl of chips and salsa next to them and then wandered away again. The kiss snapped apart and Rick dropped back in his chair, his lips absently working and folding as he wiped back some hair. Gabe chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at the retreating waiter.

“Nice timing,” he called.

The man didn’t even look back. Gabe spread his fingers over the table and watched as Rick tried to swallow back on the sudden rush of sensation. Gabe smirked slightly and leaned back in his chair.

“Good kiss?” he asked innocently.

Rick blinked dumbly for a moment and then the corners of his mouth pulled up in a barely there smile.

“Yes,” he answered. “You’re ruining my appetite.”

“You’re going to say something ridiculous about having a taste for me now, aren’t you?” Gabe asked.

“You know me so well,” Rick answered and his fingers darted across the table again to skittishly tease across Gabe’s arm.

It was an odd habit that Rick had developed at some point. He liked touching Gabe, they both knew it, but there were too many moments, places, and ignorant bastards for them to always be open about it. So Rick cautiously touched him or brushed their bodies together when they moved. It looked accidental most of the time, or like an absent gesture between friends. It was enough to drive Gabe insane.

He caught Rick’s fingers and pulled them to his mouth, his tongue sliding out to rub down the long digits. A startled squeak escaped Rick and he tugged half heartedly at the hand Gabe had seized. Gabe clicked his tongue before he winnowed it across the thin line of flesh between Rick’s ring and middle fingers. A soft hiss escaped Rick, and Gabe’s eyes glinted at him.

“We’re on vacation,” Gabe reminded him in a soft voice. “On an island that caters largely to gay men. There’s no point in pretending that I don’t want to bend you over this table and fuck you raw and there’s even less point in you pretending you don’t want that too.”

Rick’s breath stuttered over his lips and he panted noisily as Gabe continued to paint his fingers. A last kiss dropped on one knuckle and then Gabe released the now glistening hand. Gabe watched as it fell limply to the table and lay there. Rick stared as Gabe ran his tongue over his lips and comfortably reclined in his chair.

“Why did we leave the room?” Rick murmured.

“You wanted food and island color,” Gabe reminded him and then let his eyes wander around the restaurant again. “And we ended up here.”

“It’s colorful,” Rick answered, his voice still a little breathless.

Gabe’s eyes slid back to him, and something mischievous darted through his gaze. Rick shifted nervously then, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his lover.

“What?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing,” Gabe answered and carefully slid his foot free from his thin sandal. “Nothing at all.”

His toes glided up the inner side of Rick’s leg, the little hairs there brushing against his skin almost roughly. A slight intake of breath was Gabe’s only hint that Rick had any idea of what was about to happen. He stared at the other man and watched as the faint dusting of burnt pink spread a little further. Rick’s eyes met his, the other man determinedly staying still as the sole of Rick’s foot now lightly tapped against one knee.

“What to do while we wait for our food?” Gabe said softly, his eyes half lidded and a confident smirk in place.

“I don’t know,” Rick answered, that breathlessness rubbing the words into Gabe’s skin.

“Hmm.”

He pushed up alongside Rick’s thigh, the thin material of the trunks the blond wore no protection from the slowly searching pressure. Gabe could feel the water proof fabric scraping against the bottom of his foot and he imagined how wonderful it must feel scratching across the sensitive skin of Rick’s thigh. Rick’s legs suddenly spread a little, and Gabe chuckled softly as Rick slouched down in his chair to encourage the explorer closer.

The ball of Gabe’s foot slowly began to circle across Rick’s shaft now, just barely rubbing and pulling back every time Rick tried to subtly push forward for more contact. Gabe watched as a faint frown drew at his lover’s face and his teeth lightly gritted together as he again tried to slump down into the pressure of Gabe’s foot.

“Ah, ah,” Gabe taunted. “If you want it, want it, Rick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rick answered, still trying to rub forward.

“Thrust,” Gabe said, the word very carefully accented and the single syllable seeming to stretch to cover everything Gabe was planning to do.

Rick’s eyes closed for a split second and Gabe knew he was trying to keep from moaning.

“Thrust,” Gabe said and this time let the word run between them. “Show me how hard you want it.”

“Gabe--”

“I can always just put my shoe back on,” Gabe offered with a shrug, his foot pulling back.

“No,” Rick said quickly.

His eyes furtively darted around the restaurant, and Gabe had the distinct pleasure of watching the other man’s hands lock tightly around the table’s edges.

“Leverage?” he asked in a soft purr. “Or nerves?”

Suddenly, Rick’s hips shot forward, the roll gliding Gabe’s foot up the growing curve of his sex and then lingering it a moment at the sensitive underside. Rick moaned and his hips pulled back.

“Both,” he whispered.

Gabe smiled and let his fingers lightly trail over the knuckles white against their table. “Again,” he commanded softly.

Rick thrust into his foot, his hips lifting up off the chair now to let him rub every inch against the rough sole. The table rattled a little and Rick hissed as he dropped back into his chair.

“If I was sitting next to you,” Gabe said, his voice now absently conversational. “I’d wrap my hand around you and make you come here and now.”

“Gabe,” Rick moaned. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why? It doesn’t embarrass you,” Gabe said and took another drink of his beer. “Remember, I’ve heard your dirty talk.”

“That’s in a bedroom, behind a locked door,” Rick breathed.

“So I should tell you what I plan to do to you once I have a door shut behind us?” Gabe asked, his face carefully straight and curious now.

He could actually feel Rick surge against the side of his foot. Gabe hid a smile around his beer as he wondered just what the other man was imagining.

“Stop,” Rick groaned.

“We haven’t paid yet,” Gabe said softly and flexed his toes a little. “We could always go back to the hotel.”

Rick’s hands tightened at the table again and he ground his teeth together.

“Why do you always do this to me?” Rick murmured, but the words were impossible to take seriously when Rick’s hips were circling in tiny motions.

“Because I can’t get enough of you,” Gabe answered. “And I hate Mexican food.”