DM Me When You Land novel · Chapter 3 of 6

Chapter 3: Kissimmee

At the villa party Apollo says he wanted Pachas before any pill, they each take one by choice, and Pachas pins him behind the cabana before walking him upstairs.

The villa in Kissimmee had a pool shaped like a kidney bean and a speaker system that could probably be heard from space.

Apollo stood on the back lanai at ten o'clock Saturday night with a cup of ginger ale he wasn't drinking.

The air was thick and warm and smelled of chlorine, charcoal, and about forty people's sunscreen.

Somebody had the DJ set going.

It rolled out of a Los Van Van classic into a reggaeton remix.

Then it turned into a gaita zuliana that made Pachas, three feet away, throw his head back and shout.

"Sí señor! Maracaibo, coño!"

"Is that Venezuelan?" Apollo asked.

"It's Zulia. It's Christmas music. You're not allowed to call it just Venezuelan."

"It's very loud Christmas music."

"It's the only Christmas music."

Apollo grinned so hard his face hurt.

Pachas was in a black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

His forearms were thick and dark with hair and a few old burn scars from work.

He had a gold cross at his collar and a mouth that kept doing a small, private curve every time he looked at Apollo.

He had looked at Apollo about every thirty seconds all night.

Apollo had been counting those too.

Twenty-six so far.

"Here," a voice said.

The Texan was holding out his palm.

On it sat two small white capsules.

"Not pressuring," he said. "It's clean, I got it from a friend I trust, and I'm not even taking one tonight, I'm the designated driver. Just saying, it's here. Do what you want."

He left them on the patio table and wandered off.

The beat kept thumping.

Apollo stared at the capsules.

"I've never," he said, and heard his own voice go small.

"I know."

"Have you?"

"Twice. Both times at a wedding, and both times I danced for six hours and cried at my cousin's speech." Pachas shrugged. "It's not magic. It makes everything you already feel louder."

"That's what scares me."

"What are you scared you'll feel?"

Apollo looked at the water, shimmering green from the pool lights.

Around them laughter, music, a girl in glitter jumping off the diving board.

Pachas stepped in front of him, so the party blurred behind his shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said. "I'm not taking one because you do. And you're not taking one because I do. You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"If you say no, we dance, we eat the leftover pizza, we go back to the room, and I kiss you until you can't see. Same night, no difference."

"Don't say that, it makes it sound like a nice option."

"It is a nice option."

Apollo laughed shakily.

Then he put the ginger ale down and took a breath.

"I wanted you yesterday," he said. "In the lobby. Before anything. Before I knew there'd be a party, before this. I want you to know that's not going to change by midnight. It was never the pill."

Pachas's face didn't move.

But his eyes went very dark.

"Say the rest."

"I want to take it with you. I want to feel everything you do to me. And I want you to be the one who tells me what to do."

Silence.

Then Pachas picked up one capsule and put it in Apollo's open hand.

He took the other.

"Together," he said.

"Together."

They swallowed them with the same bottle of water, standing a foot apart, both of them watching the other's throat move.

Then Pachas took Apollo's wrist and walked him to a bench in the shadow of a palm, and sat him down.

"We wait," he said. "Drink water. Eat something. Don't do anything stupid."

"Define stupid."

"Anything that isn't me."

An hour passed.

It was an hour of ordinary things.

There was a plate of cold croquetas someone had brought, a stranger's dog, and the Ohio healer crying happily over a love song.

Apollo's skin started to hum around forty minutes in.

It began at the backs of his knees, a low warmth.

The music stopped being noise and became weather.

Every bass note landed on his ribs.

"Oh," he said.

"There it is."

"It's, everything's soft."

"Yeah?"

"I can feel your hand."

Pachas's hand was resting on his thigh.

Apollo could feel every callus, every individual finger, the heat soaking right through his jeans.

His mind was clear.

That was the strangest part.

He was not foggy or lost, he knew exactly where he was and who he was with and what he wanted.

He wanted so much it made his eyes sting.

"Pachas."

"Leandro."

"Leandro." The name unrolled in his mouth like silk. "I'm not confused. I want you to know that. I know where I am."

"I know."

"I need you to touch me."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. Anywhere. Please."

Pachas took off his own shirt's top button.

His pupils were wide and his voice was rough.

"Stand up," he said.

Apollo stood.

His legs trembled, from want, not weakness.

Pachas rose too, and backed him into the dark between two palms, behind the cabana.

The music was a heartbeat there, and the pool light barely reached.

He pinned both of Apollo's wrists to the stucco above his head with one hand.

"Look at me."

Apollo looked.

"You told me you wanted me to give the orders."

"Yes."

"I'm going to give them. And you're going to follow every one."

"Yes, sir."

The words just fell out of him, and they felt like the truest thing he had ever said.

Pachas made a sound in his chest.

He kissed him.

It was nothing like yesterday's kiss.

This one was deep and savage and wet, his tongue stroking into Apollo's mouth.

His thigh shoved between Apollo's legs so that Apollo felt how hard he was already.

Every sensation hit twice as hard.

The scrape of stubble, the iron grip, the flex of muscle under linen.

Apollo moaned straight into his mouth and ground down on the thigh without shame.

Pachas pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.

"You're so hard for me."

"I've been hard for two years."

"Good." He bit Apollo's lower lip. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to get on my knees. I want your cock in my mouth, right now, I've thought about it every night."

"Not here."

"Please."

"Not here. I want to take my time. Upstairs."

"Leandro, please."

"Upstairs, Apollo. Now."

He let go of the wrists.

Apollo nearly fell.

Pachas steadied him with a hand at the back of his neck and walked him through the crowd.

They passed the Texan, who raised his water bottle and said nothing.

Then they went up the stairs to the third bedroom on the left.

The door shut behind them with a quiet click.

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