Impulsive was twenty-four-year-old Aaron Jones’s middle name.

As soon as Ben Knight, the big hairy trucker, had shut off his engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, the words, “This is kinda like the place that time forgot,” were barely out of his mouth when Aaron acted.

Aaron undid his own seatbelt and launched himself on top of Ben. Aaron’s arms and legs wormed their way around Ben’s oh-so-wide flannel-clad trunk and his mouth clamped onto Ben’s beard-framed lips, muffling the man’s protest.

For the past hour or so Aaron had engaged Ben in conversation, liking what he heard but mostly using the exchanges as an excuse to perv on the big man’s body. Ben ticked every one of Aaron’s boxes. Ben was big, had a solid, wide frame, and a broad chest and soft belly. His forearms were hairy and, from what Aaron could see of the fur sprouting from his open shirt collar, he had a hairy chest, too. Best of all, Ben was kind, gentle, and totally oblivious of just how out-of-this-world hot he was. Hell, there was a heat wave going on outside but as far as Aaron was concerned, Ben out-heated the weather by several degrees.

“What the?” Ben said, finally pulling free of Aaron’s questing tongue and readjusting his baseball cap that had become partially dislodged.

Aaron produced his most winning smile. He’d often been told his smile could get him out of sticky situations, and now was his chance to prove that theory. This three-hundred pound bear could do Aaron serious damage, but Aaron’s gaydar was infallible. Ben was gay, and Aaron was sure the guy hadn’t had much experience. Certainly not with members of the same sex. Aaron was totally willing to change that last part. It was his duty, his pleasure. Heck, it’d be an honour to awaken the giant.

Licking his lips, Ben’s rich, full, earthy taste lingering on his tongue, Aaron said, “Could tell you needed a hug.”

“Some hug,” Ben said, sounding dazed, his warm, brown eyes unfocused.

“Yeah, well, in for a penny, in for a pound.”

Ben returned the hug, the grip so tight, Aaron feared his ribs would crack.

Aaron moved his right hand up to caress Bens’ cheek. His fingertips brushed the man’s beard, which felt surprisingly soft. “It’s okay, Big Ben, I got ya.” Although not very original, Aaron was proud of the nickname he’d thought up. It so fitted the man who sat in his driver’s seat like a king, all big and macho and furry and…

“Didn’t you say you had to use the john?” Ben asked, breaking Aaron’s newest favourite fantasy, that of marvelling at his good fortune at being picked up on the side of the road by this amazing person.

Ben’s words were like a trigger to Aaron’s bladder, which resumed its I need to be emptied, now! messages with increased urgency.

“Uh, yeah. It’s your fault for making me drink all that Gatorade.”

“Didn’t want you passing out on me or anything.”

Aaron had been pretty dehydrated. He’d not been standing by the on-ramp to the interstate long, but the heat and humidity had made him sweat.

Aaron smiled. “My knight in shining armour riding to my rescue on his white charger.”

Ben scoffed. “More like fat trucker in his black Freightliner picking you up before the traffic cops did. You can’t hitch on the interstate in Georgia”

The messages from his bladder escalated to red alert, so Aaron gave Ben a quick peck on the lips, slid off Ben’s lap toward the driver’s door, and began to fiddle with the latch.

“You could get out your side,” Ben said, reseating his cap before pulling the correct handle on the door to open it.

“This side’s hotter,” Aaron returned, smiling over his shoulder at Ben.

“Yeah, sorry about the A/C being on the fritz. Like I said, hopefully the garage at South of the Border will have some Freon.”

It was Ben with the whole trucker-bear thing going on that made the cab hot. But Aaron needed the loo too urgently to spend time correcting Ben’s wrong assumptions. Sure, the lack of air conditioning made things a bit sweaty, but Aaron had grown quite attached to the odour of sweaty man bear.

Door open, Aaron stepped out onto the running board and looked down at the cracked, broken, and pitted tarmac. Pretending a fear of heights, he said, “It’s such a long way down.”

“Turn around and go down the steps backward.”

Aaron did as he was told.

“That’s right, take hold of the grab handles and feel the steps with your feet.”

Aaron nodded and continued his descent. “Thanks,” he said once he reached the ground.