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

She glanced toward the door and shook her head. "They understand."

"I'm not here alone," Pylar said. "I have a friend — I'm here with a friend — and we're fine. Both of us are fine. We're not lonely or horny. Actually, it's probably about time to pass out. It's been kind of a long day."

The woman pursed her lush, red lips and put one hand on her hips. Her fingernails matched her lips and her hair. "Well... if you or your friend change your mind..." She reached into the bag hanging from her elbow and withdrew a pen. She took Pylar by the hand and extended his arm. Her pen flew across his skin, leaving the name Claire on him with a phone number and room number underneath. "Give me a call. We're here for a couple of days." She let go of his hand with a wink. The pen clicked, she dropped it in her bag, and the wheels of her luggage all seemed to roll at the same time.

"Ah... thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Pylar said. The elevator doors shut but the elevator didn't go anywhere. Pylar stared at his reflection in the steel set of doors. Even with the gray, the deep red painting his face was visible and the erection he thought was gone was still visible behind the ice bucket — far more visible than he would've hoped for. He couldn't go back to the room looking like this. In his current condition, he knew moments after he walked into the room he'd be asking Maddox how his cock tasted. He rapidly pressed the lobby button while fighting the urge to go to floor two, to return to his floor, his room, to see what Maddox would say. Pylar set the ice bucket down and leaned again the elevator wall, his head pressed into his forearm. The metal felt like ice against his skin. He pressed the button and pressed the button and held it in just to keep his hands busy.

A ding. He grabbed the ice. He was in the lobby. The receptionist's voice came in and out of his head, asking if something was wrong, but he said nothing. Head down, talk to no one. Anyone could be the next person to write their name on his arm, to ask him to their room, to tell him they're lonely and grab him between the legs and if they were to do that — if they were to get his attention right now, he didn't know if he'd be able to tell them no again. Never in his life had Pylar felt such a desire to be touched. It wasn't just an itch against his skin that he couldn't scratch by running his own hands over his arms or his legs, it was a burning sensation. His head throbbed softly and something inside of his stomach turned over and built pressure until it almost felt hard to breathe.

A mist hit him and mixed with a gust of wind, it chilled the burning his skin felt, at least for a moment. Pylar closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, savoring the sensation as goosebumps formed on his arms and the chill crept under his clothing. He leaned against one of the pillars at the edge of the awning and resisted following it to the ground. As the burning sensation faded and became numb by the cold, his throbbing head gently subsided, though the knotting pressure in his stomach continued at a steady beat.

Footsteps from the parking lot were eaten by the echoes of Niagara until they were no longer hidden in the backdrop of the falls and Pylar couldn't ignore them. He was ashamed at how excited he was to hear someone approach, he licked his lips without thinking. Feverishly, he searched the parking lot. It wasn't as well lit as he thought it would've been for something so close to Niagara. He saw the shape of his car next to the shape of a sports card darker in shade. Sedans, sedans, a minivan, and a couple of trucks. The parking lot was mostly full, but the only light it was afforded was from the lamps surrounding the hotel itself. Nothing lit the parking lot and the closer one got to the high way, the darker everything else became. A rain started, light, but picked up immediately into something not too different from the flow of the falls. The sound of footsteps disappeared into the rain. Pylar thought about calling out, to see if someone was hiding in the parking lot, they were getting wet now. If someone was out there, they should've been running, but no one entered the light and he didn't hear them coming anymore. "Hello?" Pylar said, slowly scanning the parking lot for anything, any sign of movement, any slight sound.

"Aren't you afraid you'll catch a cold out here?" the voice said through the rain. "Ruin your weekend? Yeah. Sure sounds like a lot of fun to stay in a hotel bed for a couple of days — not because you've been fucking, but because you can't stop sneezing. Your skin feels like ice to you, but burns my fingers when I touch it."

"My skin's already burning," Pylar muttered. He turned around quickly and pressed his hand to his ear. The voice sounded like it had been coming in behind him, but there wasn't anyone beneath the awning with him. The hair on the back of his neck stood and he tipped his head to the side, pressing his ear to his head with his palm, a little more pressure. "And they won't stop looking at me, touching me — I don't want to tell them no." He scanned the parking lot looking for any sign of movement, any sign of the voice, only familiar because he'd heard it a month before at a private club, because he'd seen the man in a CVS on the corner downtown, because he thought he'd heard it earlier when they arrived at the falls. He was embarrassed by how badly he wanted to find Gage somewhere the man had absolutely no business being. He should've been worried that he was being stalked by the handsome man from the adult club. Maybe Maddox was onto something when he mentioned a cult, but instead of being worried, he desperately sought confirmation knowing it would mean the desire he felt would be quenched. "Are you out there?" Pylar ran his fingers through his wet hair. The splash from the sudden rain and the mist from the falls had quickly wet him all the way through. His pajamas stuck to his skin and his red hair flattened against his scalp.

His shadow was visible beyond the lights before his identity. He wore no jacket but carried an umbrella. He wore a button-down shirt, with the first couple of buttons open and his chest displayed. The shirt wasn't tucked into his pants but clung to his legs. The umbrella clearly wasn't doing much to keep him dry. Still, Gage's blond hair had a little bounce to it and his bright eyes almost appeared as if they were glowing in the dark. The light from the hotel entrance caught on them and they flickered shining, blue irises in the night. "Feel like a swim?" Gage said, stepping under the awning.

Despite the pull toward Gage he felt, Pylar took a step back. To say he was confused would be an understatement. Furrowing his brows, he rubbed his eyes hard enough to see spots before looking again. He couldn't possibly have been looking at Gage. There was no way the man could've known where he was or what he was doing or that he was outside at this specific moment when they'd been at the hotel all evening. Yet when the splotches cleared from his vision, Gage still stood before him with a crooked, goofy smile as clear and solid as anything else. "What are you doing here?" Pylar stumbled forward and reached for Gage. The ice bucket fell and the contents spilled on the concrete sidewalk. Pylar squeezed Gage's arm. He felt his chest. He smelled a soft scent of fire and wood and bourbon and shampoo. Gage was solid. Relief flooded Pylar's senses. "Why are you here?"

"It's a nice, little getaway spot, right? Isn't that why you're here?"

"But I've been planning this." Pylar sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut. His hand closed, grabbing a handful of Gage's wet shirt. "What did you do to me?"

Gage shook his head gently. "The way I remember it, you did something to you, probably for the first time."

His voice was in Pylar's ear, his breath under Pylar's skin. Pylar leaned his head against Gage's shoulder. His hands closed tighter in his shirt and he clenched his teeth to resist pulling at Gage's shirt more. An animal impulse to pull at Gage's clothing, to touch his skin, to mash their lips together and their bodies together assaulted his senses. With every breath in, every bit of that fire and bourbon — those were the strongest scents — and it wasn't bourbon-like he had been drinking. It was bourbon like that was one of Gage's smells. His face burned red and he felt it when pressed against Gage's already warm skin. "I went there and I met you... and everything has been weird since." Pylar sucked in another shaky breath. "If you didn't do this to me... then what..? What's... what's happening to me and why... why are you here?" Pylar forced his head back so he could look Gage in the eyes. "Did you follow me?"

"Everyone's following you. They can probably smell your stink on the other side of Canada." Gage laughed and it wasn't malicious and it disarmed Pylar more than he cared to admit. The laugh was in his throat and it was deep and it made Pylar felt like everything would be alright and like Gage was there to help him. He knew he should've been more suspicious of the stranger; and that's what they were — he and Gage were strangers who met inside of a weird mansion party and it was less like meeting and more like Pylar had watched him have sex with someone on a stage after the man whispered in his ear and he came over himself, but Pylar wanted to trust him. Against all reason, Pylar knew that even if he asked Gage if he followed him there again and Gage gave just as weird an answer, he would be okay with it because touching his skin felt good.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pylar forced himself to let of Gage's shirt and take a step back. "That you did follow me here?"

"It means you're alluring and everybody you're ever going to meet is gonna wanna fuck you." Gage closed the space between them reflexively. The umbrella fell to the ground. His arm went around Pylar's waist and pulled their bodies together. There was no hiding Pylar's physical excitement.

"What did you do to me at that party?" Pylar said.

"What makes you think I did something to you?"

"Cult ritual. Dark magic. You whispered in my ear."

"Or it has nothing to do with me and has everything to do with you."

"No." Pylar leaned against Gage again. "It can't be. Everything was fine until I went to that club and saw you." He slipped his arms around Gage. Pressing his arms to the thin, wet fabric spread over Gage's back calmed the rising heat in his arms. "You're the only outlier."

"Though I have been told I provide a life-changing experience, I can't be the only outlier."

"I've gone over everything as much as I could. Turning twenty-one doesn't do this. Pizza doesn't do this. Mad doesn't do this. Every time I go over it, you're the only thing that's different."

Gage's teeth caught Pylar's ear between them. There was a sharp poke — a bite from a tooth more pointed than it maybe should've been and then Gage's lips moved against his ear: "So, what you're saying is... you can't stop thinking about me?" His lips pressed into the skin beside Pylar's ear, then to his jaw, then further down his jaw in smooth, caressing kisses.

"...No..." Pylar's head dropped back. He took in a sharp breath and exhaled unevenly. "I haven't thought about you all day." His shirt clung to his skin like he had been in and out of the river. His nipple created small lumps under the fabric, either from the cold or from the heat he felt surging through his body.

"Okay..." Gage's hands dropped to cup Pylar's ass and urge their hips together. Surprised by the sensation of their bodies pressed together, Pylar gasped into the air. His body had never felt so sensitive before; every bit of him couldn't overlook the slightest movement of wet fabric. The softest mist of breath, or the strong pressure of Gage's hands squeezing his ass or moving around his thigh, or pressing against his cock through his shorts. "Hey, kid... You wanna go skinny dipping in the river?"

Pylar shuddered, slowly sucking in a breath. He pressed his hands into Gage's chest and stepped back. "Skinny dipping?" Their eyes met again. "Are you kidding? It's cold — why would we go in the water now? We're already soaked. Wouldn't it.. wouldn't it make sense to warm up instead?"

"Sure, it's cold." Gage had a hand on each of Pylar's hips. He stepped back from under the hotel awning and into the parking lot. The rain hit them immediately. "But that makes the hot bath after even better. I'd suggest a dip your hotel pool, but that's not nearly as exciting as a dip in Niagara."

Pylar took slow steps forward with each one Gage took back. He looked past Gage into the darkness, past the parking lot, past the streets, down to the nearby waterfall and river. The sounds of the rushing falls mixed with the sounds of the rain, creating the illusion of a heavier floor, of water ricocheting off the water. His curly hair laid flat on his head and his clothing became increasingly uncomfortable. The idea of jumping into Niagara shouldn't have seemed so attractive, Pylar should've instantly said no, but instead he was reasoning with himself if there was any good reason to not say yes. "Are we even allowed in the river? Because I don't feel like dying today... or getting arrested."

Gage glanced over his shoulder. He released Pylar's hips and took his hand to pull him along. "Depends on whether or not we get caught."

Pylar pursed his lips. Everything about this moment was surreal. He thought of Maddox waiting for him in the hotel room, waiting for ice, with Chinese food and cake spread over the bed and some stupid rom-com playing on the TV. Was Maddox staring at the door waiting for him to come back? Was Maddox flipping through TV channels, putting all the consideration into what Pylar might enjoy watching? Was he staring at the boxes of food or the half-eaten cake thinking of some kind of eating contest they could have when Pylar got back up to the room? Was he sitting in bed, watching the door, wondering what was taking Pylar so long? Pylar's heart twisted in his chest as a tinge of guilt weighed down his heart. He still couldn't stop his feet from moving forward, from proceeding toward the river with his hand in Gage's. Everything bit of his mind should've been asking why Gage was here, what Gage wanted, why his body was burning and only satisfied upon feeling the touch of skin and intimacy in a way he'd never cared for before. Instead of listening to all the voices or asking Gage a third time why he was there or if he followed Pylar, instead, the redhead said, "Let's be quick about it then, okay? I have to go and get more ice."

The bucket was left tipped over on the cement, the ice mostly melted and the ice water mixed with the rainwater.