Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The beer was colder when Balta kept it in his room, and didn’t let Joa dawdle on the way. They had taken to having a beer together often, and Balta could only be happier if Joa would take a hint.
He wanted more.
Much more.
He saw the way Joa watched him, wanted him. Desired him.
So innocent, sometimes. Joa was so…shy. And the kid seemed to think that Balta was above the sins of the flesh.
Ha.
Balta needed to touch, to taste, to experience Joa’s body like the ripe peach that it was.
“Está bom, Balta?” Joa’s touch to his knee was like match to paper.
“Huh? Oh, sim. Fine.” He smiled, swallowing back the moan that tried to escape. “So, Eduardo has a date, huh?”
“Sim. A girl from Texas. Laredo. I sleep in the lobby tonight, I think.”
“What?” That would never do. “You can stay with me. I don’t mind at all!”
“Yeah? I sleep quiet, eh? I can take the chair here, even.”
“Why?” No, no. No sleeping in chairs. “You will stay here. I have plenty of room.”
“Obrigado, Balta.” Joa sat back, drinking deep.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, resisting the urge to push his toes against Joa’s leg.
“Is there a gym here in the hotel? I should go in the morning, hmm?”
“I think so?” He should go, too. He would watch Joa sweat, watch those incredibly defined abs work.
“Bom. I like the gyms. Room to move, eh?”
“Mmm. I like more organic exercise.” He winked, wondering if Joa would catch the clue.
“Organ— Oh! Oh. I. Sim. Sim, exercise is good, uh, like that.”
Deus. Balta sighed, trying not to show his frustration. He could be patient. “It is. It can be very good.”
“You…you, uh. I mean, you waiting for your wife? Because you aren’t. I mean, the girls, they love you.”
“My wife and I are not together anymore, Joa. I can never get married again, you know this.”
Joa nodded. “Sim. Sim, desculpa.”
Balta smiled widely. “I am not sorry. Now I can pursue other things, huh?” He leaned over and patted Joa’s knee.
The expression on Joa’s face was confused, but the body? No. Not confused—Balta could smell Joa, smell hunger. He let his fingers stay, let them stroke Joa’s long leg. “I am not so admirable, Joa.”
“Not… You are an amazing man, Balta.” Those muscles jumped and bunched, begging his attention.
“I am just a man, huh?” One who very much wanted to kiss that full mouth that was sort of…hanging open.
“Sim. A good man, Balta.” Joa’s cock was full, hard, pressing against the zipper in his Wranglers.
“You are determined to make me a saint.” His fingers crept up, along the inside of Joa’s thigh.
“I am?” Joa’s lips parted, wet with the beer, pink tongue flicking out.
“It seems so, huh?” Oh. Balta leaned closer, like a wolf scenting the air. “I am not.”
“I should. I should not drink so fast, eh? Makes me flushed.”
“It does. Makes you hard in your pants, too.” The back of his hand just brushed the hardness. “Like a good ride.”
Joa blushed dark, head ducking. “I try not to.”
“Why?” Poor bebe. Joa could be so innocent. “There is nothing wrong with it.”
“It…” Joa’s voice dropped. “Balta, it is a sin.”
“Is it?” Maybe it was, but it felt so good. Balta loved God, but he wasn’t sure the Almighty cared about that stuff. Or about bull-riding, though he’d never say it out loud.
“The priests say so.”
“Ah. Well, if you knew how many of them indulged.” He winked, trying to lighten the mood.
Joa chuckled, leaned back. “I do crunches on Sunday morning.”
“I know. While I sit in church.” Balta usually skipped the cowboy church, though, opting for a local priest.
“Sim. See? The cowboy saint.”
“Stop.” Balta leaned so close that his eyelashes brushed Joa’s cheek. “Me beija.” Yes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you.
“Balta?” Joa turned, their lips barely brushing together, barely touching.
“Sim.” He needed it like a man in the desert needed water. Balta turned his head, kissing Joa full on the mouth. Their first kiss. He tasted hops and mint from the toothpicks Joa chewed on, and underneath that was something male and heady, something he needed more of.
Balta reached up, sliding a hand behind Joa’s head to hold him in place.
They kissed slowly, not so deep at first, then harder.
Joa opened for him like an unlocked door, promising him pleasure and desire.
Sweet. Like doce de leite. Oh, that would be good, too, but it could wait until much later. Right now, he needed to stay simple.
Soft sounds pressed into his lips; Joa’s eyes fell shut, his fingers opening and closing near his thighs. Balta took one of Joa’s hands in his, lifting it to press against his chest. He needed Joa to touch him, too.
The moan he got thrilled him as much as a bull that turned into his hand, Joa’s fingers sliding like water over his chest.
“Mmm.” His pleasure rumbled out of him in a tangible way, the sound all about praise.
The curious touch climbed up to his throat, dipping into the hollow, stroking the rough skin there. Inching closer, Balta pushed down to hold Joa against him, fingers splayed over the small of Joa’s strong back. Soon he would take off the shirt, feel that bare skin.
“I shouldn’t…” Joa’s hips rolled against him, that heavy cock full, waiting for him.
“I want you to.” Coercion? Oh, sim. He was not above it.
“I want… I watch.” Joa groaned, pushed back into their kiss. Yes. Joa watched him like a hawk. Like a dog who was starving for a bone. And he kissed as if Balta was the only thing in his world.
Balta let his hand drop down, just barely brushing the swell of Joa’s ass in the denim.
He waited, testing the reaction. Some men never took well to such things.
Joa was sensual enough to like it, if he let himself.
When Joa arched, muscled body bucking a bit, Balta had to bite back his cry of triumph.
He slid his lips across Joa’s jaw, tracing the strong shape, and dipped his fingers lower.
Just a tiny bit. Joa moved like he was riding, the motion unconscious and easy.
It made Balta’s mouth dry, made his cock beat against his zipper.
His need was on him, pushing him, and he didn’t want to scare Joa.
Their lips parted, Joa blinking, dazed and so beautiful. “Balta. I.”
“Shh. Not unless you’re going to tell me you want more.” He smiled, grazing Joa’s lips.
Joa groaned, lips following his touch. Sensual man. Humming, Balta pressed against the center of Joa’s lower lip. He’d bet Joa had no idea how many nerves lived there. Joa’s tongue slipped out, stroked the tip of his finger. Those eyes never left his, not for a moment.
His breath caught, and he had to have another kiss. Then another.
“Balta… Balta, I-I should go. I will. I will shame you.” Joa swayed, cheeks flushed dark.
“Shh. No. No, you could not do that.” The hardest thing he had ever done was back off, just holding on with one hand on Joa’s shoulder.
“No?” Joa smiled for him. “I… I would not, not for anything, Balta.”
“No. I am the one who should be ashamed, huh?” He let his expression slide into rueful. “I want too much.”
As he knew it would, Joa’s worry turned to reassurance. “No. No, Balta. No, it is me, sim? Me that wants.”
“Joaquim.” Shaking his head, Balta laughed. “I think we want each other.”
“Do you…? What is wise?”
“I think in this I do not want to be wise.” He took Joa’s face between his hands and kissed that bruised mouth again, trying one more time.
Joa moaned, the sound vibrating against his lips, then that hard, muscled body pressed along him. Balta smiled against Joa’s mouth, letting his hands go where they wished, pushing his hard cock against the flat belly. Oh, sim.
They shuffled, trying to find a place for their feet, their boot toes knocking together.
Balta chuckled before standing and moving to join Joa on the bed.
That would be so much easier. One of Joa’s hands settled on the small of his back where the bones were fused.
The touch was familiar, not even sexual, intended to support, heal.
The warmth made him moan happily. He was old some days, far older than the rest of the riders, and his back was as bad as Coke’s.
The bullfighter and him, they could compare bolts and screws.
“Does it hurt, Balta?” That hand began rubbing in gentle circles.
“Hmm? Not so much, huh? It just feels good when you touch.”
Joa nodded, continued the careful, searching touches.
Balta loved that Joa took such good care of him, but right now he needed more. He needed for Joa to touch him like a lover. “Mi toca aqui,” Balta said, dragging Joa’s hand around to his belly.
“Balta.” Joa’s hand spread wide, fingers splayed, palm hot on his stomach.
“Oh. That’s good. Bom.” His muscles tightened, his nipples going hard.
“So hard.” Joa blushed, ducked his head, but that hand moved, explored his belly, his pecs.
“For you, huh? I want. I look at you all the time and want.” So bad. Joa needed to know.
“Sim?” Oh, that pleased his Joa.
“Mm-hmm. Always.” He watched and watched.
And now he touched. Balta pushed a hand down to flip open the button of Joa’s jeans.
That heavy dick was close now, close enough to feel its heat, to feel how Joa needed him.
‘secondGoing for broke’ was how the American boys said it.
Balta went for broke, opening Joa’s jeans and reaching in.
The first thing he noticed was that Joa fit perfectly in his hand, the second, that all that skin was hot and smooth and bare. All of it. Deus.
“Joa.” He was almost shocked, though he knew Joa waxed his chest. It was just unexpected enough to give him hope for Joa as a naughty man, once they got started.
“I… It feels good, sim? With my clothes.”
Yes. Yes, he imagined it did feel so good. It felt good now. The skin sleek and hot against his hand. Balta squeezed. Joa cried out, scrambling up close to him, then pulling away.
“Joa? Did I hurt?” He would never hurt. Not unless Joa asked.
“No. No, I. So big, Balta. Us. It’s so big.”
“Then it is good.” So good. So beautiful, his Joa, with his wide eyes and tender mouth. Balta could imagine that mouth doing all manner of things.
“More than good.” Joa had begun to rock, moving that heavy caralho into his hand.
“Look at you, doce. So pretty. All for me.”
“Balta.” Joa’s moan was sweet like candy and he could hear his name in that voice for years.
He kissed Joa again, speeding the motion of his hand. He had to know what other noises Joa had in him. Joa groaned for him, fingers finding his nipple, circling it. His breath caught, his cock jumping. That simple touch nearly had him going off like a rocket. Then Joa pinched, tugged.
Balta felt it start at the base of his spine, moving up hard from his balls. He came fast, not prepared for it at all, not even undressed. It would have been embarrassing but for the need in Joa’s eyes.
Joa grunted, lips pressing against him, tongue slipping in to taste him, again and again as seed poured over his fingers, Joa’s orgasm answering his own. The scent caught him off guard, strong and male and delicious. Oh, deus, help him, there was no going back now.
Of course, now was the tricky part—to stop the worry and blustering and oddity.
Balta waited until Joa opened his mouth before taking one final kiss, forestalling any sort of protest. It was too perfect to ruin.