Page 63 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
He could almost feel the way Shane shuddered, the little inhale as his imagination surely ran as wild as Andres’s. They hadn’t planned on going home together tonight, but it would happen at some point. For now, Andres was thrilled just to edge Shane along, to play cat and mouse with him like they had all the time in the world. Andres wanted that stable future with Shane more than he’d ever wanted anything else: wanted to keep filming hisRate Thingsvideos for him and watching the little flush build beneath his freckles and smirking as he ran the top of his foot along Shane’s ankle beneath the table, binding them together with a casual touch. He turned the camera onto Shane and started filming.
Shane was a natural, his smile bright and his expression just a little cheeky. “We’re atJaramillo’s, and this time I’ve got my incredible partner—that’s the spicy kind, yes—behind the camera.” He gave a little wave. “Say hello to the fine people back home?”
Andres grunted ammhmmand zoomed in on Shane’s lips, settling there long enough to catch the roll and shine of them and remember what it had felt like to pull the lower one into his own mouth, fangs sinking in. He hummed in satisfaction again.
“Or make a noise, I guess.” Shane shrugged. “He’s good at those, if you know what I mean. Breaks the scale for sounds that will make you—”
“Shane!” Andres snapped.
His little swan only smirked and began unwrapping the California burrito from its paper, before opening up the tortilla to get a close up at the contents within: French fries, steak, sour cream, guacamole, and a scattering of cheese. “Let’s see how this bad boy compares to our last three attempts.” Then, he began fishing out the fries and eating them solo.
Andres watched in wonder as his boyfriend gave a thoughtful sound.
“Crispy outside despite the burrito-fication, good internal temperature—a little grainy, though. It’s picked up a sufficient amount of sour cream but the guac just isn’t sticking. Look at that? You still needsomeclumping to successfully eat your guac with de-burritto’ed fries, but this is outrageous. I give it a six out of ten for French fries unstuffed from a burrito, with a bonus half a star for the crack in the shop’s front window that looks weirdly like a bullet hole.” He scooped up a few pieces of the meat from his open pile of pickings, placing it into his mouth with a sensual roll of his tongue and lick of his lips. “Mm, carne asada is good though. You know I do like myself some meat.” With that, hewinked.
Andres stifled a laughing snort as he shut off the video. “You’re going to turn yourself into a thirst trap like that.”
“Are you jealous?”
He shrugged. “Just don’t let any of them bite you.”
“I would never.” Shane rewrapped his burrito and shoved a proper bite into his mouth.
Andres started on his quesadilla, cursing how common an ingredient garlic—even just the powered form—was in most modern cuisines. There was more than one reason he hadn’t had a sit-down meal with either side of his primarily Mediterranean family since he’d turned. The fresh tortillas were fantastic though, and sitting there, watching Shane as they ate, was absolutely joyous.
“I do want to donate to that blood bank in Ala Santa again though,” Shane said between bites. “I think you mentioned you’d ehem,take careof me afterward?”
“Your apartment will besoclean,” Andres teased.
“Villain.” Shane grinned, reaching across the table for one of Andres’s hands.
Andres’s lungs tightened and panic shot through him. He restrained himself enough to merely pull back, but the adrenaline remained, pounding like a war drum through his chest. Over something so slight, so ridiculous? His soul wanted to scream, and his body wanted to cry, one hand frantically pushing back his hair like it was part of someone else’s arm. God, fuck, what waswrongwith him?
Shane watched him in confusion, and Andres forced himself to reach out in his place, pushing through the pointless anxiety to draw his fingertips over the back of Shane’s hand and encircle his wrist tenderly. He gave the softest squeeze. Shane didn’t look quite satisfied, but the couple who’d been at the counter for the last few minutes interrupted them.
“Hey, um, if you’re not Shane and Andres, this is going to be super weird,” the man in front said, both thumbs looped into his jean pockets. He wore a shirt with a set of fangs and the phraseBite me baby!, and his grin seemed to fill up his broad jaw like it was meant to be there. “I’m Wesley, this is my Vincent.”
“His fiancé, named Vincent,” his dark-haired companion clarified, like this was a common introduction mishap.
“Hi. I’m Shane, yeah.”
Vincent blinked, fiddling with his fingerless glove. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
A hint of pink appeared in Shane’s cheeks. “I post rating videos online?”
“I don’t think that’s it…”
“Maybe I just look like someone else?” Shane shrugged. “My memory for faces isn’t the best though, I’ll be honest.”
“After the first time we met, he obsessed over me for months, and he still didn’t recognize me when we ran into each other at a bar,” Andres explained.
Wesley cackled, a bold, exuberant sound that was thoroughly joyous and seemed to light up his fiancé’s face as well as his own. “Vincent had to hang out with one of our vamp friend’s boyfriendthree timesbefore he realized the man hadliterallysaved his life before.”
Vincent groaned. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Never.” But the way Wesley smiled at him was all affection and sunshine, like the blushing vampire was the one thing that held his world together, and his fiancé looked back at him with all the joy and adoration of someone who knew their partner inside and out and loved every last dusty corner and broken piece of hardware. It was so soft and sweet, so healthy, and Andres envied it. He and Shane would have that someday, he decided. He’d make it true, anxiety be dammed.
Vincent’s brow shot up. “The library, last fall! You asked me about memes or something.”
