by JC Holly
Sexual energy powered his portals, as well as anything out of the ordinary. Getting up and going to work didn’t, but punching a hole through a wall did. The blow job earlier had helped, but prior to that he’d been in the middle of a drought.
“I’ll just have to find a guy tonight, that’s all.” As he opened a second portal, the feeling came back. “Oh, so it’s to do with men...Interesting.”
He stepped out into his office to find the phone ringing. Someone in the bar was calling.
“Damon.”
“Hey, boss. Was beginning to think you were asleep.”
“Just distracted. Need a hand?”
“Just for an hour, if you don’t mind. Stevie called in sick at the last minute, and Paul can’t come in till midnight.”
“Be right down.”
The bar was jumping, much to the approval of Damon. He jogged down the last few steps and slid past the bouncer into the bar. Given that it was Friday, it was no great surprise, but he still loved to see so many people having a good time. Didn’t hurt that the crowd was pulsing with a low level of sexual energy. It wasn’t the kind he could tap into, but it put him in a good mood. It also made him horny. Something he’d have to deal with at some point. It can wait an hour, though, unless someone catches my eye.
The bar was being run single-handedly by a very stressed-looking bartender. As Damon stepped behind the bar, Craig let out an audible sigh and pushed a few stray blond hairs behind his ear.
“Thank God. It’s been crazy for the past half hour.”
“Well, I’m here now.” Damon rolled up his sleeves and nodded to the small crowd of people by the bar. “Let’s get to it.”
Craig turned back to the throngs to take orders, and Damon allowed himself a moment to check out Craig’s ass. It was pretty damn perfect and was surrounded by other similarly pleasant body parts. Pity Damon didn’t allow staff flings. Even with the boss.
Still, if times get desperate enough, I may make an exception to my rule.
* * * *
Rook and Carly edged up along the waiting queue outside the bar. Apparently they were so busy that they were already running a “one in, one out” policy at the door. Thankfully, the night was pleasant. A little cool, since Rook had forgotten to bring a jacket, but that just served to keep him awake. A light shower had come down earlier in the night, leaving the air with a pleasant, post rain scent.
“Nearly there, now,” Carly announced to the gaggle of friends she’d invited along. “I know the bouncer, so we’ll get in easy.”
“Great,” Rook replied, though hardly enthusiastically.
Carly rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm. “You’ll enjoy yourself once we’re in there.”
He shrugged. She was probably right. The music sounded good and wasn’t as loud as most places, and he’d seen a few good-looking men head inside. Even if he spent the night at the bar he’d have things to goggle at.
Slowly their group neared the front of the line. The sign above the door announced that the club was named Black Velvet. From the little that was visible from the sidewalk, the place was at least well lit, which didn’t quite gel with the name.
As the last few people in front of them headed inside the club, Carly wiggled her hips over to the bouncer, who was more than pleased to see her. They exchanged a quick conversation, and the bouncer waved the group in, much to the group’s noisy approval. Rook made a mental note to ditch them as soon as was polite to do so.
“So, how do you know him?” Rook muttered to Carly as the girls checked in their coats. “Vertically or horizontally?”
She grinned back. “More ‘kneeling,’ to be honest.”
“Slut.”
“Duh!” She laughed and headed after her girls.
Rook stepped through the second set of doors into the club. To say they were busy would be an understatement, but as luck would have it there was a seat by the bar with nobody on it. The girls headed straight to the dance floor, though, so Rook grudgingly followed. His back could stand up to a few minutes’ gyration.
* * * *
Damon spotted the new guy at the edge of his vision as he made his way toward the empty seat. At the last minute the guy turned off after his friends, though he didn’t seem too pleased about it. Damon smirked as he finished serving a beer to a drunk blonde.
“Can I get your number?”
He smiled at the woman as he shook his head. “You’re not my type.”
“Oh?” She leaned over the bar. “How do you know?”
He shrugged. “You have breasts, for a start. I’m gay.”
The woman’s attempt at an alluring smile disappeared, as did she a moment later, muttering to herself about “all the good-looking guys” being gay. Damon hoped that was the case with the guy that was now dancing half-heartedly with his group of girlfriends.
Paul arrived five minutes later and took over the bar duties, leaving Damon free to wander the club. It could wait a few minutes, though. He’d been using some of his energy to bring in the tips—he couldn’t help himself, it was so easy—and could use a sit-down.
The one seat was still empty, so he dropped onto it and took in another breath of the collective energy of the dance floor. The stuff made caffeine seem like Ambien in comparison. He closed his eyes and sighed then swiveled on his seat to watch the dancers.
There was plenty of talent and a fair bit of new blood, his boss side was happy to see. His horndog side was happy to see the number of sweating men in tight clothes. His own pants started to tighten a little in response, which he took as an excuse to start homing in on a potential partner for a little fun.
“Hey, can I get a beer, please?”
Damon glanced to his side to find that the man he’d spotted earlier had made it back to the bar and was ordering from Paul.
The guy was even cuter up close. Six foot, lean without being skinny, and with a head of close-cropped black hair. An intricate tattoo peeked out from the bottom of his shirt’s sleeve.
“Nice ink, from what I can see,” Damon said over the noise of the music.
The man turned, noticed Damon, and smiled. “Thanks. It’s new.”
“Yeah? I’d like to see more of it.” Damon smiled. “Especially if it means you lose the shirt in the process.”
The man grinned, though it looked strained. Nervous little rabbit...That only made Damon’s pants even tighter. Instead of tackling the man and throwing him to the floor, he thrust out a hand.
“I’m Damon. I own the place.”
“Robert.” Robert shook the offered hand. “Everyone calls me Rook.”
Why did that name ring a bell? Oh, right. “The Rook whose name is under the sign of the tattoo place down the street?”
Rook nodded. “Yeah, that’s my place.”
“Nice. I’ve been meaning to come in and get a quote.”
“Oh, you have tatts?”
Damon shrugged. “Maybe I’ll let you see them sometime. For now, though, how about you come suck my cock?”
Chapter Four
Rook didn’t know where to look.
This Damon, who he’d met only seconds before, had just asked him to suck his cock. More concerning was the fact the idea wasn’t sounding too bad. He took a slow sip of his beer to buy him a moment’s thought.
Okay, so he’d come out in the hope of maybe seeing some action, and this guy was plainly offering that, but did he want to jump in headfirst?
Damon shifted in his seat. Eager or nervous? “Well?”
Rook put his beer down. “Sure, why not.”
“Great. Follow me.”
Damon stood and began to weave through the throngs of people toward the back of the bar. Rook had assumed that they would head to the guy’s office, but apparently that wasn’t the plan. Damon headed toward a door to the left of a staircase, nodded to the bouncer, then stepped into a small, dark room. Rook took a deep breath and followed.
Once inside, the door clicked shut behind him and
a light was switched on, revealing a modest storeroom half full of tables and chairs. Out of modesty rather than confidence, Rook flipped the catch on the door, locking it to anyone trying to get in. Damon noticed and smirked.
“Nobody comes in here when it’s open. Other than me, anyway.”
“Oh?” Rook walked over, trying to keep his steps sure. “And do you come in here often?”
“Yes. In both senses of the word come.”
He flipped a barstool from the top of one of the tables and set it on the ground then began to unbuckle his belt. He slid his pants and boxers to the ground then sat on the stool.
Rook tried not to lick his lips, but he couldn’t help himself. The guy was hung like a horse. Eight inches at least, and thick, and he wasn’t even fully hard yet! He began to play with his cock, sliding the foreskin back and forth over the head, his gaze not leaving Rook’s.
“I’ve been horny all day,” he said as he stroked his hardening cock. “How about you?”
Rook steeled himself and came closer, his hand brushing Damon’s thigh. “Up until a few minutes ago, not so much.”
“And now?”
Rook dropped to his knees and took Damon’s cock in his hand. Damon gasped softly and Rook began to work the stiff length. His own cock was threatening to explode already, but he left it alone for now. He wouldn’t last long if he tried anything.
Slowly, Rook lowered his head until his lips were just brushing the tip. God, he’d missed the salty taste of pre-cum. He flicked his tongue across Damon’s thick cockhead then suddenly lowered his head, taking half the length into his mouth.
“That’s it,” Damon hissed. “I’m not looking for tenderness.”
With one hand, Rook jerked the thick cock as he worked his mouth up and down the length, taking a little more in each time until the cockhead was thumping against the back of his throat. He worked his tongue along the length at the same time as long-forgotten techniques came flooding back.
“You’ve done this before,” Damon said, his breath halting.
Rook smirked, a difficult thing to do with a mouthful of cock, and kept at it, sucking and jerking. Suddenly, Damon placed his hands on Rook’s face, and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled Rook off his cock.
Rook looked up, a question on his lips. Damon stood.
“I’ve changed my mind. Bend over that table.” He worked his cock. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week.”
* * * *
Rook gaped, and Damon wasn’t surprised. He’d surprised himself with the forcefulness of his statement. He was just so damn horny! This guy had sucked him like a pro, and the energy coming from him was a veritable feast. There was no way Damon was wasting his coming orgasm on a blow job.
Rook paused for a moment then dropped his pants. His cock was as hard as Damon’s and not that much smaller. I know how to pick ’em. The man turned and bent over the table, his hands gripping the wood top. Damon moved into position and pulled out the small bottle of lube he’d slipped into his pocket earlier in the night, just in case. He quickly dropped some onto his finger then slid it around Rook’s waiting asshole.
“You’re tight,” Damon said as he slid his finger in to the first knuckle. “I like that.”
Rook only gasped in response as Damon pulled his finger out and pushed the head of his cock in its place. Rook relaxed a little, and Damon squirted a little more lube onto his cock in readiness. Once he was satisfied, he pushed inside Rook’s ass.
“Oh God,” Rook groaned as Damon worked his way in.
“You like that?” Damon pushed further inside, his hands clasping Rook’s sides. “You like my big cock inside your hole?”
“Yesss,” Rook hissed back.
“Yes, what?” Damon pulled back out till his cockhead popped free. “Call me master or I’ll stop right now.”
This was always the risky point. Some men weren’t into it, and some hated the idea of it. But Damon was so damn horny he couldn’t hold back.
“Yes, master,” Rook gasped without a moment’s hesitation. “Fuck my ass, master.”
Damon grinned and plunged his cock back inside Rook’s ass, pushing as far in as he could, as hard as he could. Rook whimpered in response, but took it, his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of the tables.
“Fuck me,” he groaned. “Fuck me harder.”
Damon did as he was told and slammed his cock into Rook again and again. He hadn’t felt this good in years. His cock felt like it would explode, it was so hard. Again and again he pounded Rook’s ass, filling him with his length until he felt the orgasm approaching. He was in no mood to prolong the experience and instead sped up, welcoming the increase in sexual energy that flooded from Rook. The man would be exhausted tomorrow but damn happy about it.
“I’m coming,” Damon managed to gasp as he pulled his cock free.
With a quick action, he pulled Rook from the table and spun him around. The man jerked his own cock in time with Damon, who positioned himself and came hard, squirting thick ropes of hot cum in Rook’s face.
Chapter Five
The alarm pulled Rook from his three or four hours of sleep, and for a moment he hadn’t a clue where he’d been last night, or even what his name was. He reached over and hit snooze then shook his head vigorously.
Robert. Rook. The club. Damon.
The memories came flooding back and brought a raging hard-on with them. What had started as an illicit blow job in a back room had turned into a ride Rook would feel for the rest of the day. Not that that was a bad thing, necessarily. A bit of pain added to the excitement, after all.
After that, the pair had snuck into the bathrooms to clean up and then had met up with Carly and the girls and got well and truly hammered. Carly had immediately taken a liking to the guy, Rook remembered. Though whether that was his friendly manner or the fact that the booze was free, he couldn’t tell.
“Ugh.” Rook rolled out of bed. “No doubt she’ll give me the Spanish Inquisition when I open the shop.”
Thankfully, Saturday hours were shorter and started later. He had a few hours to stare into space before he had to unlock the shop. He stretched out his back, and for the first time in a year it seemed to be free from aches. I wonder what did it. The booze or the huge cock. Maybe he pushed a disk back into place with all that slamming. He smirked and headed to the shower.
Breakfast was a leisurely affair. He wasn’t in the mood for anything whatsoever, but Hangover 101 required that he force something down, along with a few gallons of fluids, so he dropped onto the sofa with tea and toast and watched the morning news.
The answering machine caught his eye, which made him wonder whether he’d given Damon his number. A few minutes’ hard thought dredged up a memory of him writing the number on the back of Damon’s hand, as he couldn’t remember where his cell phone had got to.
“Wonder if he’ll call...”
As if in response, the phone rang, causing Rook to jump and spill hot tea in his lap. He jumped to his feet in a hail of curse words and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, boss,” Carly said. “Open the door.”
Rook frowned. “We don’t open till ten.”
“Not that door.” A car horn beeped. “Your door.”
Rook hung up and walked to the window. Just visible beneath a torrent of rain was a taxi. Carly waved from the back window. Rook opened his door, and Carly streaked into the house, her hands covering her head as if it were acid falling from the skies rather than warm rain.
“Jesus, it’s coming down,” she muttered as she pulled her coat off and hung it on a peg. “Kettle on?”
“You’ll find out when you go make me a replacement tea.” He gestured to his soaked lap. “Next time just beep the horn?”
She sniggered and disappeared into the kitchen. After far too much clanking, she reappeared with a new tea for Rook and an instant coffee for her, no doubt containing at least five sugars.
<
br /> “So,” she said as she curled into the corner of the couch. “Damon. Spill.”
“I suppose you want all the juicy details.”
“Everything. As obscene as you can, please.”
Rook laughed and joined her on the sofa. “The short version—and that’s the only version you’re getting—is that he came on to me, we headed somewhere private for some fun, enjoyed ourselves immensely, and then got hammered with some drunk-ass sluts.” That got him a punch in the arm. “Joking!”
“Well, this particular drunk-ass slut was very interested in finding out what was going on when you disappeared into that room with the owner of the freaking club, and ‘fun’ ain’t gonna cut it, boss.”
He feigned a sigh. “Let’s just say pants weren’t involved. For either of us. Good enough?”
“I guess it’ll have to be.” She leaned forward. “Think he’ll call?”
“There’s the rub. Ball’s in his court.”
“Do you want him to call?”
Rook sighed for real that time. “I don’t know. We seemed to click, and the sex was pretty incredible, but I don’t know a lot about him.”
“I can help you out there.” She put her coffee cup on the table and leaned back in the chair, fingers under her chin like a pretentious art critic. “First of all, he’s gorgeous. I mean panty-wettingly gorgeous. If he wasn’t gay, I’d have already been there, trust me.”
“I have no doubt whatsoever, but that’s nothing I didn’t know.”
“Not finished. One.” She held up a finger. “He owns that club, and apparently has hands in several businesses around the city. Two.” She held up a second finger. “He’s loaded, but not flashy with it. He has a nice sports car, but the only times I’ve seen him mentioned in the news are when he’s donated money to some charity or other. And three...” She held up a third finger. “Hawt!”
