Silverfall

by Raven de Hart

  Chapter Three

  I felt way out of my league at the club Terry took me to. Such was the plight of the average man in the gay community. We just didn’t stand out. Not bad looking but certainly still left hanging around the bar when it hit dick o’clock.

  But fuck it. I was determined to have a good time. The first step to that was pretending that I was having a good time. Which was why I was on my second Cuba libre and about ready for a third. Still no signs of interest from anyone. Terry was trying his best to be a good friend and ignore all the suitors coming after him, but he never managed to avoid the attention entirely. Not his fault. I couldn’t hold too much of a grudge. Only a little. But it was the same grudge I’d held at every party, bar, and club since we left Montana.

  I locked eyes with a leather-and-stud-clad brunet across the way. I waved.

  “Hey.” The word disappeared into the overamplified bass line of whatever ridiculous house song they were blasting. I would have tried again, but Leather Boy had already turned his attention somewhere else and wandered away.

  I slid my empty glass back across the bar and caught the bartender’s eye. “Double bourbon, rocks.” No more mixers. Not if I was going to keep faking happy.

  Terry walked over to me, shrugging off a couple of admirers, and tossed an arm around my shoulder. It landed harder than he probably intended, jarring me off balance for a few seconds. Fortunately, I had no drink in my hand.

  “Are you having a good time?”

  My drink came back, and I downed half of it. “Wonderful.”

  I tried to act happy. I really did. Not just for me but for Terry. Apparently, he wasn’t buying it. He slumped down on a bar stool next to me.

  “I really thought it would be good for you to get out like this. Pointe is one of my favorite clubs.”

  “It’s just not my kind of scene.” I stared at a short redhead walking by in nothing but a jockstrap. I was pretty sure that was illegal, no matter how forgiving the laws were in the big city. “I’ve always preferred country music.”

  “Well, there aren’t exactly a lot of country-western gay bars around.” Terry patted the bar stool next to him. When I sat, he spun me around to face him. “Do you wanna go?”

  He meant it. It was Terry’s serious face. He would leave his fun behind for me. Then I’d feel like shit for making him leave. “I’m fine. I just need to relax into it a little more.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to, but I slammed back the last of my drink, got up, and started into the writhing fray. I just had to make it across the room in one piece. There was another bar I could drink at over there.

  The music grew louder as I neared the center of the dance floor. Sweaty, 80 percent naked bodies ground up against me. No parting of the Gay Sea for me. I just had to muscle through, moving to the beat as best I could. I wound and wove as the bass pounded in my breastbone.

  I made it through and leaned against the other bar. This bartender wasn’t quite as cute as the first one, but I hardly thought I’d be headed home with either one of them. “Double bourbon, rocks.”

  I reached for my wallet to give him my card, start a second tab, but a large, gruff hand wrapped over my wrist. Its partner handed a twenty to the bartender. “I’ll cover it.”

  Shit on fire. Someone was actually paying for my drink. Of course, it was probably some old fart who was hoping to get lucky with someone the same age as his fucking grandson. That would be my luck. But I had to show my appreciation. Hopefully I could end the bad situation there.

  “Thanks, but you really don’t have to.”

  “It’s my distinct pleasure.”

  He didn’t sound old. Fuck it. I dared eye contact, and I was fucking thrilled with the outcome. He was tall. Over six feet. Short black hair, clean-shaven, and well-built. Very well-built. He had these big, dark eyes. Almost black and almost too big for his face. His gaze bored into me. Even when I blinked, I could see them, clear as the clearest night sky. He had scars all over his face, neck, and arms. Subtle, but there. And, perhaps most importantly, he had to be somewhere close to my age. Or know a really good plastic surgeon.

  “Hi.” I offered him my hand properly. He grabbed it, squeezed it as he shook. Strong.

  “Hi. My name’s Leon.”

  “Anthony.” I sipped at my drink, but suddenly, I didn’t seem to need it so much. I leaned on the bar and smiled. “So, how about that small talk?”

  “Hate it. But I occasionally endure the torment.”

  “On what occasions?”

  He shrugged but didn’t break eye contact. “Mainly when my conversational partner is lovely enough to warrant the effort.”

  “And do I qualify?”

  Again, a shrug. Then a smile. It wasn’t a cute smile or a sexy smile or a pretty smile. It was too big, and his teeth were too horsey. That was all right with me. He was real and attractive, not fake and plastic like all the other guys I’d come across in California.

  He took a drink of whatever was in his glass. “So the weather’s been pretty good lately.”

  “It’s California. The closest thing I’ve seen to bad weather here is an earthquake.”

  “Well, that’s not entirely true.” He clinked his glass against mine before continuing. “It rained that one time.”

  “Must have been before I moved here.”

  “Where’d you move from?”

  “Montana.”

  “Cow country.”

  “Not exactly. Our neighbors did the whole cattle thing. My family was always more into horses.” And just like that, the unicorn trotted back into my mind. But it also trotted right back off and let me focus on Leon. “What about you?”

  “I’ve pretty much been here my whole life. Moved around to different towns, but the city life always suited me best of all.” He took another drink and finished it most of the way off. “What do you do for a living?”

  That was a great question. Totally made me datable material, talking about my dead-end job. “I’m on the night crew down at Michaelson’s Grocery.”

  “What do you do?”

  So much for my artful dodging. “I’m a stocker. Nothing special, but it pays the bills.” Needed to get off that subject quick. “What about you?”

  “Security.” He said it fast. If I wasn’t feeling the liquor so hard, I might have questioned it. And if he wasn’t so damn good-looking and interested in me. For once. “I work for whoever decides to pay me that week.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  He snorted. “Hardly. There’s not nearly as much activity as the TV writers would have you think.” He reached over and touched my cheek, rough skin scratching. “How do you feel about kissing strangers, Anthony?” When he pulled his bar stool closer, I didn’t back off. I thought I maybe should have, but I didn’t. I let him touch me. His skin was warm and hard, and he smelled like cut grass and wet dirt. I don’t know why. Maybe it was just my imagination. That was completely possible. But I still breathed deep. If my brain wanted me to think he smelled that perfect, I was going to take full advantage of the delusion.

  He kept his hand there for a long time. Longer than I’d ever normally allow a stranger to touch me, sober or not. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Damn it, I felt good. I brushed my fingers through his hair. Soft to the touch.

  And then it happened. I leaned forward, balancing my stool on two legs. Given how much liquor I’d had, that was an impressive fucking feat. I hesitated for half a breath just an inch away from him. Close enough to see his pores. Close enough to feel his gentle breath, hot and scented like whatever fruity cocktail he’d been drinking.

  I leaned in that extra inch and pressed my lips to his. Not long. Hardly more than a peck. No tongue. But it still sparked inside me, lighting something animal to life in my core. I snuffed it out. Or tried…and failed. It remained there even as the heat of embarrassment took hold.

  “Was that all right?”

  “No complaints from
me.” The big toothy smile again. “In fact, I think we should do it again.” He scooted even closer, weaving his legs between mine. He whispered the next part. “Go ahead.”

  It took me a bit to believe it, to believe he really wanted to kiss again. But he didn’t pull back when I leaned closer. I parted my lips, conformed to the curve of his mouth. I dared a flash of tongue, just the slightest brush against his teeth. His tongue touched mine just as I went to pull back, and the sensation stuck there, lingering in my mouth.

  I looked into the big, dark eyes. The skin crinkled around them as he laughed. “Well, I think that was okay, don’t you?”

  “I think it was way better than okay.” Oops. I hadn’t meant for that thought to actually come out of my mouth. I tried to find a way to change the subject. Anything would have been good. But all I had in my head was him and the touch of his tongue against mine and the smell of nature clinging to him. Did anyone make a cologne that smelled like grass and dirt? God, if they didn’t, they needed to start.

  Leon grabbed my hand again. “So hey, listen.” He was avoiding eye contact this time. “Do you maybe want to get out of here? It’s kind of crowded and this music is kind of…what’s the word?”

  “Horrendous?”

  Another laugh. “That sounds about right.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I think that would work. We can hit somewhere and get a bite. I just have to tell my friend.”

  “Okay.” The tiniest bit of red crept into his cheeks. “But I wasn’t really talking about going out. I was thinking more…I don’t know, your place?”

  * * * *

  I fumbled my key into the lock. Leon was right behind me. He’d kept at least one hand somewhere on me from the second we left Pointe. My thoughts had only turned to the unicorn once, when we passed the alley marked off by police tape. But it didn’t bother me. Between the liquor and Leon, I felt perfectly safe. Which was weird. I didn’t know him any better than I’d known Darren, but here I was, taking this one home.

  Maybe my subconscious just had better taste than I did.

  I got the door open and led him in. I didn’t speak, just closed the door and watched him strip off his shirt. The scars carried down his chest and middle. Probably from work. Knife fights and wrestling and all those other manly things that set my crotch to tingling.

  He stopped when he caught me staring. “Is this going too fast for you?”

  “No.” I shook my head and laughed. “It’s going just fine.”

  He nodded. “I don’t really do this a lot. I normally take guys on a date or two first.” He shrugged. “I just couldn’t resist you a second longer than necessary.”

  That hung in the air for a second. Two seconds. And then I rushed at him, pressing my mouth to his again. This time, his tongue didn’t just brush mine. They writhed and tangled and knotted, exploring each other and exploring our mouths. He pulled away just long enough to breathe one word.

  “Bedroom?”

  We spun around, never breaking away from the embrace. I backed toward the door, shoved it open with my heel, and then let Leon take control. He leaned into me and led us back onto the bed. His weight pressed me into the smooth sheets. I scratched and rubbed at his back and felt the scars there. Subtle rises and dips all across his skin.

  Leon’s rough hand slid up and under my shirt and peeled it off. We rubbed skin to skin. His hips ground into me. I bulged against the tightness of my jeans.

  Leon leaned down. His tongue darted out against my nipple. His lips wrapped over it and sucked up. The gentle graze of teeth. Only the tiniest, tiniest nip, and the slightest pain. It melted into every other touch, every contact against my body.

  He slipped his hands out from under me and unzipped his pants. A trimmed bush. Commando. Time slowed as he pulled them down and revealed his dick. That was what it seemed like, anyway. I maybe shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t exactly control my tongue. It was a totally involuntary—and totally rude—reaction. “Damn it.”

  He reached down and tried to cover it. Which worked about as well as trying to hide a horse behind a breadstick. “Yeah. I hit the genetic lottery a little bit.”

  “I’d say that’s more than a little.” No way was I stripping down now. “I just…”

  He was completely red in the face. “Nobody ever tells you that being well-hung could be embarrassing too.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. A tiny stone of worry and discontent balled up in my stomach. But it was only a tiny one. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Believe me, if either of us should be embarrassed about size, it certainly isn’t you.”

  He shook his head, but at least he moved his hand away from it. “I’ve lost more guys over this than over just about anything else.”

  I sighed. What could I say? All I had at my disposal now was action. I got off the bed, hooked my thumbs under my waistband, and dropped everything to the floor in one sweep. I was still semihard, but the growth of that stone in my belly let me know it really wasn’t enough to compare.

  But standing there, just staring at Leon, I wanted him. I wanted him in a bad way. Or in a good way. Or sideways. Any way I could get him, really. The nerves didn’t go away, but they moved to the back and let the passion burn into the forefront. I felt more tingling downstairs, more growth, and stiffening.

  I strode up to him, grabbed his arm, and led him to lie on the bed. His hard-on was too big to even stand up straight. My nerves flared up again. I swallowed them and brought my mouth down close. I went in tongue first, stroking up the side and tasting the headiness. From the base, up to the tip, and then back down. I sucked one ball into my mouth, rolled it, and ran circles around it with the tip of my tongue. Then the other. That was just stalling, though, and I couldn’t keep it up forever. He was obviously embarrassed enough as it was, and if I put off actually sucking his dick much longer, it would make him even more uncomfortable. I wasn’t okay with that.

  I wrapped my lips over the head of his cock. It was tight, stretching my lips almost to discomfort. But not pain. I took a deep breath in through my nose, then slid down. Slowly, I took it into my mouth. I couldn’t do any acrobatics with my tongue. No room. I sucked and took his dick in as deep as I could, all the way to the back of my throat. So deep my eyes watered.

  I pulled back but not off. I just kept bobbing, my vision blurring more every time his head touched the back of my throat. I went up and down on it until I couldn’t keep it up. I slipped off, his head popping out.

  He reached down and wiped my eyes. “You don’t have to keep this up. I’m used to not being—”

  I pressed my hand to his mouth. “You’re not talking me out of this, but you are making me wonder if you’re actually interested.”

  “I am. But I don’t want this to be work for you.”

  I chuckled. “Sex isn’t supposed to be easy. Not good sex, anyway.” I curved my lips to his again, licked his teeth, and tasted inside his mouth. “But you might have to bottom.”

  A moment and then he laughed. “That’s really not a problem. As long as you have a condom.”

  Finally. Somebody sane. I pulled open the drawer of my nightstand and came back out with some lube and a rubber. Leon took the condom, ripped it open, and rolled it on for me. He lingered, taking his time, and pressed his fingers into my cock. He pulled away slowly, leaving a trail of heat and pressure from the base to the tip. I squeezed lube along the length of my shaft and then passed Leon the bottle and rubbed the slick gel into liquid.

  We locked gazes. Leon nodded and then hoisted his legs up, exposing a pinkish hole, wet and shining with lube. He even had scars on his legs and feet. I felt them as I rubbed his calves. The hard, tense muscles made them that much more obvious.

  I pressed my middle finger into him, down to the knuckle. Then out. In, out, pressing gently against the sides of his hole, opening it. When it got loose enough, I added the index finger. He tightened around me at first, but I worked him back into re
laxation. He groaned and nestled deeper into the pillows and sheets.

  I slid my fingers out and leaned over him, positioning myself. But more than anything, I wanted to look at him again and make sure. He blinked those huge, dark eyes and then nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  I pressed the head of my dick against his hole and put on steady pressure. Leon’s chest heaved. He groaned. He moaned. I kept going, pushing until my dick popped in. Leon’s back arched up off the bed. I kept going. I hated it when tops stopped at the littlest sign of discomfort.

  I got all the way into him and felt the firm, supple muscles of his ass pressed against my bush. Then I pulled back out. The tightness and warmth surrounded my dick as I moved and sent shivers of fiery pleasure into my shaft and up into my spine. It broke up the nervous stone in my stomach.

  I wrapped my fingers around his dick and stroked my fist up and down, sliding his foreskin across his head. I didn’t have time to track down where he stashed the lube. I spit in my hand and went back to rubbing. I thrust in time. He was tight. Not a bottom but he let me do it anyway. He wanted me. I wanted him. He still smelled like dirt and grass, and I leaned my head against his chest, listened to his short, sharp breaths, his heartbeat. So fast. Thud-thump. Thud-thump.

  I moved faster and thrust harder. My thighs slapped against Leon’s ass, the sound of skin-to-skin contact filling my bedroom. I found myself smiling. It felt so good. Too good. I didn’t deserve this kind of pleasure. Not without commitment.

  Fuck it. No. I pushed the thoughts away. Not tonight. I should have fun once in a while. I couldn’t think of anything more fun than this. I pushed myself a little higher and changed the angle of my dick. And I kissed him. At first, no response, but he relaxed into it and let it happen. His tongue was warm in my mouth.

  I let go of his shaft and dug into his shoulders with both hands. I was too close to even consider controlling it. It had been way too long for me. My toes tightened and my spine popped and cracked. My neck tensed, forcing my head back. I tried not to shout, but it didn’t work. The neighbors wouldn’t be thrilled. Fuck them. My balls pulled up high. My dick twitched inside of him, filling the condom with warm fluid.