Free Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara by Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale, Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling

the ice machine to make up a pack for Keith while Keith himself poured two vodka shots and drank them both in quick succession.
    Returning with a softball-sized bag of ice, wrapped in a clean white towel, Gunther said, “By the way, it was bison.”
    “No, the carcass in the fridge was human. Trust me.” Keith held the ice pack to his jaw, wincing at the cold against his tender flesh.
    “I mean the preferred protein at my family’s midsummer meal. It was bison. You asked and I never answered.” Gunther sat down beside him on the bed. Keith’s proximity alarm buzzed and buzzed again, warning him of Gunther’s closeness. He pulled it off and threw it on the nightstand.  He didn’t need the watch to know how near the other man sat. Every part of Keith’s body seemed to be responding to the nearness—to the smell of Gunther’s faintly spicy cologne, to the knowledge of his sheer masculinity.
    He needed to get laid and that was a fact.
    Gunther said quietly, “Is your jaw hurting you a lot?”
    “It hurts enough.” The bruise did hurt, but if he was honest, the real wound had been mainly to his pride. He said, “Getting hit by a crazy, slap-happy bitch isn’t what I wanted from this evening.”
    “I admit I had other hopes as well.” After this remark, Gunther lay back and fell silent. Keith glanced sideways, wondering if the other man had somehow fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, his fingers laced behind his head. His abdomen rose and fell slowly. His expression had softened. His mouth looked supremely kissable. Keith imagined himself leaning over and tasting Gunther’s mouth, wondering if the taste of tobacco still lingered there.
    And for so many reasons that was the stupidest impulse Keith had had in years.
    Without opening his eyes Gunther said, “Are you hungry?”
    “I’ll make myself some grilled cheese in a minute.”
    “That’s pretty much the only thing you eat now, isn’t it?”
    “Pretty much.”
    Gunther shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like that could possibly be good for you.”
    “Says the man who ate two and a half packs of cigarettes today.”
    “I didn’t say my diet was good. I’m just saying that you might want to take a multivitamin.”
    “I ate an orange last week,” Keith said. “Grilled cheese is easy when you’re cooking for one.”
    “Why don’t you include me in your dinner plans then?”
    “I don’t cook meat anymore.” Keith felt like a complete weakling admitting this but also knew that Gunther probably didn’t truly understand how pathetic this made him seem in the professional cooking world.
    “I didn’t say it had to be meat.” Gunther opened his eyes, regarding Keith with a steadiness that made him look away.
    “You’re a goblin. Meat is what you want.”
    “You know we prefer to be called Luminous Ones. And I think we don’t know each other well enough for you to know what it is that I want.”
    “You’re telling me that your favorite food isn’t meat?”
    Gunther shrugged. “When I was a little kid my favorite food was Christmas lights. I used to eat them right off the string like candy.”
    “You’re shitting me.”
    “Not at all. My godfather used to bribe me with them so I’d stop sucking all the butane out of his lighter. So while it’s true that I haven’t eaten many vegetables, I’m feeling very game today. So how about it?”
    “I don’t really want to cook,” Keith said.
    “What do you want to do then?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You must want something.”
    Though he knew Gunther was still talking about their dinner plans, Keith felt so demoralized and tired and maybe slightly drunk from the vodka shot on an empty stomach that he found himself saying, “What I want, Heartman, is to fuck you and not have to talk about it afterward.”
    Gunther didn’t immediately respond and Keith realized he’d gone too far so he added, “That’s just about the only thing that would make me feel okay about today.”
    Gunther