"Who are you?"

"Milagro, leave us alone..." Jaime whimpered, trying to push Bart up the stairs to his bedroom before his sister asked too many questions that he would be more than willing to answer.

"Aw, but she's so cute, Jaime, why do we have to leave her?"

"I'm not cute!" she stuck her tongue out as the smaller teen was dragged away.

"You don't want to mess with her. She can get...well, anyway, this is my room." He opened the door to his bedroom. It really wasn't much and he hoped Bart wouldn't mind and-

Of course he didn't mind. He had already zoomed around it three times, now lounging on his bed, disturbing the just-straightened covers, holding a bag of Chicken Whizees that Jaime knew he didn't come with in hand.

"I can see you're already helping yourself." Jaime grumbled, getting next to him on the bed, sitting crosslegged. "Mami doesn't know your secret, nor does she know mine, so you really have to be more careful, hermano. It's enough to have to listen to the scarab whine and moan about it, let alone having to worry about it myself."

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the lectures, hermano," he threw the bag aside and crawled on top of him, "let's do what I really came here for."

Destroy this Impulse!

"No..." whimpered the older teen, clearing his throat and letting the hand that wasn't getting turned into a canon tangle into Bart's auburn hair.

"No?" Bart frowned.

"Sorry, I was talking...never mind, but anyway, I-"

The smaller boy kissed him, their tongues meeting roughly in between mouths, wrestling for power. Jaime let out a surprised moan of pleasure, while pushing Bart down on his back and crawling on top of him. He wanted control for now...at least to shut Khaji-Da up.

Would you like me to take necessary precautions so that position can not be changed in his favor?

Jaime thought about that for awhile, wondering what it would entail. Sadly, that was something you should never do when you're fighting with a speedster, for the couple seconds it took to think something through was all Bart needed to get back on top, straddling his waist and pushing his gray hoodie up to his chest, vibrating hands roaming the tan, toned upper half.

Submitting to the defeat (for now), he let the teen's stray hands wander all over his top-half once more, their tongues continuing in their battle for dominance. All that could be heard in the room were hot, wet noises and then the zipper of Jaime's hoodie being undone.

What are you doing?!

Jaime ignored Khaji-Da, focusing his attention on the beautiful face in front of him, his hands, now completely canon-free, grabbed Bart's butt through his skinny jeans, making the boy whimper and break away from the kiss. Jaime grinned at him.

"It feels a little, uh, awkward, to know we have an audience."

"I'm used to it."

Bart sat back up, still straddling his hips. "What does he think of me?"

"He disapproves, but why does that matter?" His tan hands pushed up the baseball tee, relishing the beauty of his skin color against the pale speedster's, their body temperature also very different. Bart was so warm...

"Jaime..." Suddenly Bart went very serious and it made him stop smiling and get worried, his chest tightening in anxiety.

These feelings are completely unnecessary. Cease this at once.

"I came here to change the future...to stop things that happened from happening. To stop you..."

Ay dios mio...this wasn't sounding good at all. He had to say something, even though his mouth had suddenly gone dry and his hands were starting to tremble, "Bart, I...I know I probably made...you know, some mistakes in the future, but I...I know that right now I would never...especially because now I met you and..."

"Shoosh!" Bart put his hand over Jaime's mouth, a small smile on his lips. "Just listen, okay?"

Suffocation is not a tactic commonly used among 'friends'. Destroy this Impulse at once!

But as soon as he moved his hand away, he had to continue. He was too scared of what Bart might say. "Please, Bart. I'm sorry! I know I enslaved you and did you wrong and was horrible but I..."

"Jaime..." He slid off his hips and let him sit up, and their hands met and their fingers tangled with one another's, "...I just never would have thought I'd fall in love with you."

His chest loosened, anxiety pouring out of him. He let out a sigh of relief. "Bart...heh...sorry...I thought..." he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"It's okay." He leaned forward, whispering those words into his ear. Jaime caught the scent of his shampoo and clung to his head while he still had him there, and just listened to their breathing until Impulse pulled away, zooming around the room and returning back to sitting crosslegged in front of him on the bed with the Chicken Whizees in one hand and Jaime's wallet in the other. His voice was loud again, cheerful, happy, like nothing intense had just gone on, "You have to show me around El Paso today."

Jaime sighed. What happened to making out that eventually led to more? Perhaps Bart wasn't ready. But if that was the case, he was okay with that. He was okay with whatever Bart wanted. Because Bart was going to be the one calling the shots in this relationship: not Jaime. Because he wasn't a dictator and he wasn't going to grow up to be one..."El Paso is...not that great."

"Mmphey, beffmer thaphn...where I come from!" He swallowed and the older teen couldn't help but smile.

This is a complete waste of time and energy.

Jaime rolled his eyes, not sure how much longer he could stand Khaji-Da's bickering. He slipped off his hoodie and looked straight into the speedster's eyes. "How about we continue where we left off, first?" Maybe just a little push and he'd take the bait...

He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I guess I sort of liked you touching my butt." Bait taken. Jaime grabbed his butt again, smirking.

"Good, 'cos I liked it, too."

"But...no, like...taking off our clothes or anything. Okay?"

Jaime bit his lip in question, wondering why...was he not muscular enough for Bart? Was he too muscular? Was he too tall? Did the scarab scare him that much? Or were they just moving too fast?

Wait, what? Too fast for a speedster?

Detected stress and anxiety while speaking of this activity you are presenting: psychological trauma.

"Hmm...Bart, come on, just a little?" his hands moved from his bum to his fly, starting to unbutton the button. Bart ran to the other side of the room, holding his hands up, his brow furrowed. Psychological trauma, huh...?

"I just don't want to do that stuff with you, okay?!"

"JAIME! CENAR!" His mother called from down the stairs.

He bit his lip, pushing himself off the bed and lookied at Bart, moving much slower than usual, his head drooped and lips pursed as he stumbled toward the door, and Jaime couldn't even explain these feelings (sadness, lust, anger?) that were pulsating through his entire being.