in the water. That’s how I know I’ll be fine.”
“You’re honestly scared.” Shaw laughed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, it’s just—I don’t know. I’ve been swimming here since I was a kid. I never even thought about it. I mean, North. You’ll be fine.”
“I said I know I’ll be fine.”
Shaw laughed again, and the laughter made North think of Percy-fucking-whatever his name was shoving North into the cool, brown water. North had sputtered and splashed and frantically paddled toward the dock’s ladder, and the Chouteau bros had pointed and laughed and jostled each other with how much fucking fun it was.
“Go ahead,” North said. “Laugh. See how hard you’re fucking laughing when a gator bites your ass.”
Shaw’s whole face was drawn with surprise, almost cartoonish in its expression. Then he started laughing even harder. “North, there is absolutely no way an alligator is in the lake.”
“Oh yeah? The Post had a story about a gator just outside of Joplin. That’s not even three hundred miles away. Global fucking warming, Shaw. And those gators can fucking move.”
“I swear on my mother’s grave: there are no gators in that lake.”
“Your mother is alive, dipshit. And I know what the Post said. Read the newspaper for once in your life.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re not going swimming while we’re here? At all?”
North scowled at him.
“Ok,” Shaw said, flopping back on the sofa and raising his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok. Now I get it.”
“Get what? There’s nothing to get.”
Shaw made a noncommittal noise. Glancing over at North, he began doing flutter kicks, the exercise tightening his core and exposing the faint definition of abdominal muscles under his pale skin and the dusting of reddish-brown hair across his chest and belly.
“So, what?” North said. “You’re a tease now?”
“You hate nature,” Shaw said. “You’re not going to take me swimming in the lake. So I’ll just get my exercise here.”
The dog was still barking.
“I don’t hate nature.”
That damn dog was still barking.
“Do you hear that?”
“Huh?” Shaw was focused on his flutter kicks.
“Ok,” North said, “be a tease. See what happens.” North kicked off his boots, pulled off his tee, and shucked his jeans. Wearing only the electric blue jock that he knew got Shaw riled, even if it was totally impractical as far as underwear went, he stalked across the living room.
“You’re going swimming in that?” Shaw asked, still doing flutter kicks in spite of his obviously growing interest in North’s minimalist outfit.
“I’m not swimming in that lake. The water is filthy.”
“The water’s fine,” Shaw said, still working his flutter kicks as North knelt on the sofa, looming over him. “It’s muddy, but it’s totally clean. I’ve been swimming in it since I was—ah.”
North adjusted his hand under Shaw’s swim trunks, tightening his grip, performing another slow stroke.
“What was that?”
“Ah. Um.”
“The lake,” North said, bringing his thumb across, letting the rough pad find sensitive skin. “What about it?”
“It’s totally—ah.”
“Totally? Totally what?”
Shaw clutched North’s shoulder with one hand. With the other, he grabbed a sofa cushion like it was going to save his life. North ran his thumb again, watching pleasure spark across Shaw’s face.
“I—oh God, North, oh my God, please.”
“Now, what are we learning about being a tease?”
“Oh Jesus, North. Come on. Just. Just come on.”
“You’re not answering my question; it makes me think you’re missing the point. You know you were a bad boy for being such a tease, right?”
“Fine,” Shaw whispered, trying to shove North away and take matters into his own hand. “Fine, if you won’t, then I’ll just—”
North pinned one of Shaw’s arms with his knee, his free hand clamping down on Shaw’s other wrist. “Uh-uh. That was really bad. We’re not going swimming, are we?”
“No,” Shaw said in a broken whimper, bucking up into North’s hand.
“We’re not going outside this whole weekend, are we?”
“No.” This time, a wail.
“I might not even let you leave the bed. How does that sound?”
“Oh fuck yes, please, oh fuck—” Then Shaw’s head came up, his eyes wide and glassy but focused somewhere else. Worry dampened the arousal shining under his skin, and he pushed North’s hand away. In a thick, drunken voice, he said, “Do you hear a dog barking?”
2
THE DOG IS FINE,” North said, trailing behind Shaw and trying not to take out his frustration—and his blue balls—on his boyfriend. “You’re worrying about nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound fine,” Shaw said. He had pulled on a pair of platform espadrilles, with what looked like jute straps. The fishnet tank he wore