"Oh — OH, god." Pylar frantically glanced around for the remote, patting the bed blindly as the music shifted to something made mostly of a beat-line recorded in someone's garage. Heavy breathing filtered out of the screen and drew his eyes up. "I didn't know— I—" 

The mobster man pulled the woman up from the bed and pinned her to the wall.

Her breasts bounced on the impact. His hand slid up her thigh and hiked up her skirt, going between her legs. It wasn't completely visible, but it didn't need to be. Charlotte pressed her head into the wall, exposing more of her neck as she gasped and repeated. "Oh God, Mark—Oh —God— There's a— There's a—Gh-ghost!"

Pylar's breathing hitched and he felt the heat spread from his face down his body. He stole a glance sidelong at Maddox only to quickly look back at the TV, intrigued. Sure... he had seen porn before; his share of experiences where Maddox found something and sent it to him before they determined Pylar had zero interest in it all those years ago... but it had never... done this to him before. His body had never reacted to watching this kind of stuff before and as the scene went on, as each pant came through the speakers, it was like something was taking him over. He had a compulsion to reach over to Maddox, to take off his shirt, to quench this burning, irritating itch spreading across his skin and consuming his mind. Somewhere, he stopped looking for the remote and he couldn't look away from the screen. His eyes locked on the woman's face and the way the man's pants slipped down his hips a bit to expose his ass. The panting turned to moans as the woman is moved, roughly bent over a nearby desk. Pylar licked his bottom lip and sucked in a hard, uneven breath. If Maddox said anything, it was lost on him; his focus entirely captured now on the woman's feet as they were kicked apart and the man came up behind her. Their hips connected and she jolted forward with a loud, "Ah!"

One moan turned into two and then three and the woman cries out for her partner, Mark. The screen shifted away from the sex to the man with the swooping hair pressing his ear against the door. Muffled moaning and Charlotte panting the word, "ghost," came through the door. Pylar shook his head, abruptly feeling himself back in the hotel room rather than in the dark bedroom with the mobster and the ghost hunting girl. He felt something and saw his hand already slipped partway under the band of his pants, an erection tented the fabric. He spotted the remote on the floor and got on the floor to grab it. Tossing it to Maddox, he said, "Sorry, you can have that back..." while chuckling awkwardly.

Maddox grabbed the remote while laughing and flicked the channel to something else quickly. His face was flushed and skin obviously hot to touch. Partially from the program, partially from the vodka. He didn't say anything about Pylar's arousal — maybe he didn't even notice it, distracted from the blur in his head from the drinks, but he at least wasn't so far gone that he slurred his words when he spoke. "Remember when we used to have your mom's credit card to get that kinda stuff? Now they just put it on TV." He laughed lightly.

"Aha—right?" Pylar breathed out heavily through his nose.

"Don't sweat it, Py. It's not a big deal." Maddox dunked his fork in the cake and swooped it into his mouth. He reclined against the bed and flipped through channels until he stopped on some teen drama on MTV.

Pylar stayed crouched on the floor, staring at the screen for a while. A hand clutched tight over his groin. He thought back to the days when he was a kid and MTV played music videos; where you could flip to the station and while it didn't strictly play music and music videos, it did have hours of continually playing music videos and he enjoyed putting it in the background and laughing at the stupid things people put in pop and rock videos — the visuals that had nothing to do with the songs — and wonder what was going through the musician's head when they created the video. But then there was also a lot of sexual movement in music videos too and it likely wouldn't have been much better. He sucked in a slow, shallow breath and squeezed his eyes tight. He thought he'd only gotten a decent buzz going, but was he actually drunk? Did he lose track of how much liquor he'd had? He didn't know. He thought he hadn't drank that much, but now his head was spinning. He opened his eyes and the spots cleared. Maddox closed his eyes and purred a soft home. He wiped the frosting from his lips and sucked off his fingers in slow motion. Pylar's heart pounded, eyes focused on his friend's tongue with every lick. His fingers curled tighter as his cock twitched and the head spread through his body.

The words filtered through Pylar's head: Maddox was gay... would he mind if... "Hey, Mad?"

"Yeah?" He licked his index finger again.

"You, uh... how are things going with... that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The, uh, the last one you saw. What was his name?"

"Oh." Maddox forked another bit of cake. "Andy. Yeah... no." He laughed, bringing the cake to his lips. "The dating thing is painful, Py, ah..." He set his glasses on the bed and rubbed his eyes. "You know he was a vegan?"

"A vegan?" Pylar laughed, trying to relax, but it sounded forced. "Why'd he agree to Taco Tuesday? Didn't you go to Taco Bus?"

"Yeah. I don't know what he was expecting. Like, yeah, they had vegan options... Vegetarian options? I don't know the difference. They had non-meat stuffings, but then he got mad at me for my beef burrito and nachos."

"Weird," Pylar said as he stroked his cock gently. "So," he cleared his throat. "Anymore dates? Anyone new?"

"Nah, not yet..." Maddox licked the icing off his spoon. His tongue lashed against the plastic and with every swipe, Pylar's heart throbbed and his cock twitched, hungry to feel what that would feel like on his skin, on his heat.

"Mad..." He stroked himself.

"Yeah?" Maddox looked over then laughed. "Dude, why are you still down there? You lose a contact?"

Pylar squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a firm shake. "I, uh—I'm going to get some ice." As he stood up, Pylar quickly turned his body away to hide firm member beneath his pants.

"You need some help?" Maddox sat up immediately as if he sobered up. "You okay? Your face is hot."

"Nah, man. I'm fine. Just a little warm." He grabbed the ice bucket off the table, slipped his shoes on, and hastily went out the door. The hallway air felt much cooler on his hot face than the air inside of the hotel room. Didn't they have air conditioning getting in there? The difference didn't make sense. Pylar didn't wait in front of the door on the off chance Maddox might've opened it to as him a second time, to make sure he was sure that he didn't need any help. he held the ice bucket over his grown, wishing the heat away. His muscles fought his every step like a force drawing him back to the room. Where he hoped to hear the door click and Maddox standing there so he could push his friend back into the room and pin him to the bed as he tastes his lips and lets out some of the heat. They were friends, really close friends, close enough to do a little bit of comforting for one another and Pylar was sure that if he tried something, Maddox wouldn't stop him. But his chest tightened when he thought about it. They were friends — not that — not sexual — and he didn't want to mess up their friendship by making into something he wasn't. It physically hurt, pulling against his muscles to keep going down the hall to get ice from the small vending machine room by the elevators. His head said, 'go back and fuck him," and "you're just friends. You're just friends. You're just friends,' on repeat.

The further he got from the room, the more the voices in his head quieted down until the embarrassment of his own thoughts were all that kept his face red. The desperation he had felt just sitting in that room, sitting on the other side of a queen-sized bed and glancing at Maddox's pants, imagining his cock soft, maybe only half-soft and quickly getting warmer.

Maddox didn't open the room door; he didn't call out to Pylar, and Pylar didn't go back. He entered the vending machine room with a small sigh and his shoulders slumped, and shortly thereafter, relief came to cool his hot, tingling skin. The vending machine room was the equivalent to a doorless closet with a harsh light constantly on overhead. Two vending machines sat against one of the walls, one with drinks and the other with snack foods like chips, candy bars, Poptarts, popcorn, and mixed nuts. A window to the left of the machines gave a few to the parking lot, and there was enough standing room in front of the machines for a couple of people to form a line for midnight grub. Despite the fact the sign said, "Vending Machines and Ice Machine," there was no vending machine in the room. He was going to have to check the vending machine room a floor down.

The elevators sat just beside the vending machine room. Pylar pressed the button to call an elevator. He hadn't waited long when the doors opened. A man in a tuxedo stood inside the elevator. He must've been in his thirties or the dark five'o'clock shadow was making him look a little more mature. The top few buttons on his white shirt were unbuttoned, a bowtie laid loose around his neck, and his dark hair was stiffened with hair gel, but brushed around by stress and events of the day. He rubbed the dark bags under his eyes and grunted softly. He held a cellphone while his foot tapped quickly against the floor. He glanced up as Pylar got in the elevator. First, he sighed heavily, hot, and impatient, but by the time the door closed, his foot wasn't tapping anymore and he slid his phone into his pocket. "Hey," the man said. A small came to his lips and head rushed through his body. The way his slacks moved, Pylar could tell the man had balled his fists in his pockets. "I've never done this before," he cleared his throat, "But it's been a weird, sorta sentimental day, if you get me." He pointed down at his clothing with his nose. "But if you're bored... I could use some company." The man's exposed neck was tense and his pockets appeared tighter until the man pulled his hands from them. He closed the space between he and Pylar and put a hand on Pylar's hip. His fingers were strong, but careful and somewhat resistant like the man might've been uncomfortable, nervous — he did say he hadn't done this before.

"What, you haven't picked some stranger up in a hotel elevator before?" Pylar laughed, but his chest was so tight it hurt a little with each breath.

"Nah..." The man's chuckle was low, earthy, in his throat like a purr. "I've got a wife at home. A couple of kids." His breath is hot against Pylar's neck. "I've never fucked a man. I've never wanted to fuck a man. I've never thought of fucking a man, but there's something about you, kid." His hand moved down Pylar's chest. His fingers slid along Pylar's shirt and would have pressed into his groin if they hadn't caught on the ice bucket he held over it.

The elevator rang and the doors opened. Pylar's skin burned and the sweat caused his shirt to cling to his back. Pylar pulled away from the man saying, "sorry." Clumsily he stepped back and pressed the buttons on the outside of the elevator. "I'm just—going to get some ice." He held his breath as he pushed the button more rapidly as the doors didn't shut. For some reason, he thought pressing the down arrow rapidly would cause the elevator to shut and go down to the lobby. The button lit up briefly each time and the doors remained open with the man on the other side. Dark brown eyes stared at him. He wiped something from his lips and grinned. Pylar stepped away from the button, cursing under his breath about the elevator staying in place and when he stepped away, the door finally shut and the man was taken away. From the heat in the man's eyes and the way his body felt electrified when they touched, Pylar was surprised the man didn't come out of the elevator, but when the door closed, he felt equally relieved and physically stressed out.

The day played through his mind; all the people acting weird. The man just now, the woman in the liquor store, the man at the gas pump — there were a couple of guys at the gas pump giving him a weird eye when they started the drive, at least one of them whistled at him too, the lady at the desk downstairs. Every encounter Pylar could think about turned oddly... warm in a sexual way. Panting during speech, red cheeks, people reaching to touch his hand or brush his arm or push his hair out of the way. It wasn't normal for him to get this kind of attention. In high school, he never got attention from his classmates, guy or girl, unless it was someone calling him faggot for how much time he spent around Maddox.

The vending machine room on the second floor looked identical to the one on his floor except it actually had an ice machine. Pylar opened the ice machine lid and scooped until the bucket was full. Pylar returned to the elevator and had barely pushed the button when it rang and the doors opened. He squeezed his eye shut, silently praying the guy from before wasn't still on the inside. Fortunately, he wasn't, but the elevator had three people inside already. The metal doors parted and laughter spilled out. Pylar sighed, relieved he wouldn't be in the elevator alone. Relieved that they were laughing and talking and pulling luggage which meant they were just checking in and possibly in the same kind of rush he and Maddox were in a couple hours ago.

"Which floor, honey?" said a woman with bright red hair. As a natural redhead, Pylar could tell her color came from a box. It was identical to the color on her lips.

"Uh, three," Pylar said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, sugar." She turned away from the button panel and left her luggage in the corner. After a moment, Pylar felt her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, hon? You look a little sick." She pulled at Pylar's shoulder to turn him around slightly then pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Pylar laughed. Just a little sweaty, he thought. He held his breath as the back of her hand moved down his cheek and she caught her chin with her thumb.

"You here alone, baby? You need help with that... ice?" Her fingers moved carefully along his neck, down his chest, and caught on the edge of the ice bucket.

Pylar laughed and wiggled the bucket of ice a little, "Thanks, but I think I can handle it."

The elevator moved on past three up to floor six. The bell rang and the doors parted. The girl's two companions got off, leaving her behind with only a look over their shoulders before they continued whispering to one another. Yet the woman who said she pushed the button for him remained in the elevator.

Pylar cleared his throat. "Aren't your friends waiting for you?"