by L. A. Witt
I’d been living in Denver for too long. Little towns were things I drove through on my way from one actual city to another, or places I stopped into for lunch at mom-and-pop restaurants no one had heard of. I was used to freeways and skyscrapers, not microscopic map dots with a single highway running through and nothing taller than five stories. Hell, I was pretty sure that even at low tide, the bridge of the aircraft carrier moored on the pier was the tallest thing in Anchor Point.
And why am I so bitchy about this? Why am I so bitchy about everything?
Sighing, I rubbed my neck as I drove. Maybe I needed to get laid. As it was, I’d been so busy at work for the last month, I hadn’t had an evening to myself, and I never went more than a couple of weeks without hooking up. Add in the stress of being around my ex-asshole-in-law, and I was a sexual powder keg who needed his fuse lit stat.
Sooo how exactly did one go about finding some cock in this town? Portland was a bit far, and I had no idea what the gay scene was like in the towns that were closer.
There were apps like Grindr, but I kind of felt like having a drink and maybe winding somebody up on a dance floor first. Not romance or anything like that—just some foreplay-before-foreplay to make sure my dude of the night was as into it as I was. That didn’t necessarily mean a guy would be good in bed, but at least I’d have a better idea of what I had to work with.
Did a town like this have gay clubs, though? It did have a base, so that was a plus. I’d never had much difficulty finding hot and horny queer men in the vicinity of a military base. Were there Marines stationed on NAS Adams? Because that would be awesome. So awesome. I smiled at the memory of a threesome I’d shared with two jarheads a couple of years ago. So much ink, so much cock . . .
I shivered away the goose bumps and decided that, yes, I needed to find a club in Anchor Point. As close to the base as humanly possible.
I stopped to get gas, and as I got out, the attendant appeared. Oh. Right. It was illegal to pump your own gas in Oregon. This place was weird.
While the attendant filled the tank, I took out my phone and did a search for gay bars in and around Anchor Point. There seemed to be quite a cluster of them down in Flatstick, which looked like an equally tiny town within an hour or so. Ugh. I didn’t feel like driving that far. Especially if I wanted to have a drink or two.
There were a couple here in Anchor Point, though. Neither had a lot of reviews—never mind terribly positive reviews—but they were the closest places for a man to go trolling for dick. Push came to shove, I could always have a drink while I perused Grindr.
The High-&-Tight sounded promising enough. And it was close to where Mandy and I were staying. Not that I had any intention of bringing tonight’s man back to the room we were sharing—I’d figure out the venue when the time came—but at least I didn’t have to drive all over No-Name, Nowhere, to get to the club in the first place.
It was also about half a block from the base’s main gate. Perfect.
So, after my tank was topped off and I’d paid the attendant, I drove back to the hotel to make myself presentable.
Tonight, come hell or high water, this boy was getting laid.
Holy shit, I’d been needing this all day.
I could have taken or left the High-&-Tight and its too-loud meat market atmosphere, but they had some of the best beers in town on tap. That alone made it tolerable to be in a room full of men on the prowl. As I took a long pull from my ice-cold beer, my whole body seemed to relax, and the whole day—hell, the whole week that wasn’t even over yet—faded away. Tomorrow, that stress would be back in full force, and I’d be counting down the minutes until my next pint of relief, but for now, I was going to enjoy this.
It wasn’t unusual for me to go out drinking with everyone from work, but tonight, I hadn’t felt like being social. Just drunk. So, here I was—beer in hand, buzz en route.
I scanned the crowd just for something to do. Most of the guys here were looking to hook up and get laid. This was a meat market if there ever was one, kind of like the places up the street where the straight guys went.
That wasn’t me tonight. The thought of going through the pre-sex motions—getting someone’s attention, breaking the ice, working out logistics—all sounded exhausting. Even the thought of dancing to the annoying pop music blaring from the speakers made me tired.
This place had only been open a couple of months, filling in after the previous club—a dive bar that had smelled like stale beer and overcooked fries—had finally gone under. Some of the locals weren’t thrilled about the rainbow flags in the windows, and there’d been some snarling about it on base from some of the saltier old bastards who were still bitter over DADT being repealed, but there was definitely a portion of the population—on and off base—who liked the place. Personally, I was happy to have an openly gay bar nearby, especially one with decent beer. Win-win, especially on nights when I actually did want to get laid.
That could wait. Right now, I was here to drink until nothing else mattered.
The door opened, and for the hell of it, I turned.
And did a double take, my beer nearly slipping out of my hand.
Okay, so much for not wanting to get laid. Slack-jawed, I stared at the redhead who’d just come strolling in like he owned the place. He was fucking gorgeous. His cocky attitude was palpable from here. I liked that. A lot. Especially when it was coupled with that predatory gleam in his eyes as he scanned the room.
That was a guy who’d come here looking for a piece of ass. My mission to get shit-faced suddenly seemed a lot less important now that I had a growing erection with this man’s name all over it. And I didn’t even know what his name was.
Heads turned. At least half a dozen guys were watching him, sizing him up, and my competitive side was immediately awake.
Grab him quick before somebody else does!
When he reached the bar, I slid off my barstool, beer in hand, and headed his way.
I was no more than three feet away when he turned to me, and I nearly stumbled. Was it the lighting? Or were his eyes really that dark? And who the hell cared?
Mouth suddenly dry, I stepped closer and pressed my elbow onto the bar. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He almost sounded shy, but his eyes gave him away. Coy, maybe, but this guy didn’t have a shy bone in his body.
I took a sip to moisten my mouth, then tilted the glass toward the bartender. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Yes, you can.” The redhead looked me up and down in the most deliciously lewd way, and met my eyes again. “Or tell me you bottom, and we can skip all that and get out of here.”
Holy. Shit.
I gulped. “I’m a . . .” Words. Come on. English. “Vers.”
“Even better.” As he extended his hand, he grinned, revealing perfect teeth that really needed to be sinking into my shoulder right about now. “Anthony.”
It took me a second to remember what the protocol was here, but I finally shook his hand. “Noah.”
“Noah.” He said it like he was trying it on. Seeing how it fit in his mouth. Oh man, I was so glad I’d decided to come here tonight instead of hanging with coworkers or drinking at home alone.
“You’re very, uh . . .” I cleared my throat, “direct.”
“I am. Thing is, I’m not in town for very long, so if I’m going to hook up, there’s no point in wasting time playing games.” He grinned again and sidled closer to me, almost tucking himself up against my body. “And I do want to get out of here, but now I kind of want to see what you’re like on the dance floor too.”
I laughed. “If you’re expecting anything that belongs on YouTube, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“Not YouTube.” He shamelessly curved a hand over my upper thigh. “More like YouPorn.”
Sweet. Mother. Of God.
I took another quick drink because my mouth had gone dry again. “What are we waiting for, then?”
“You tell me.” He nodded at the glas
s in my hand. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’.”
There wasn’t much left—one swallow and it was gone. For a split second, I lamented that I wouldn’t be continuing with my plan to spend the rest of the evening in a comfortable haze, but Anthony’s eyes were enough to yank me from that train of thought in a hurry. I could drink tomorrow. Beer was always available, but guys like Anthony? They didn’t come along very often.
I pushed the empty glass away and motioned toward the dance floor. With a grin, he took my hand and led me away from the bar.
As he walked ahead, I gave him another up-down look. He was shorter than me and definitely slimmer in the shoulders. He wasn’t one of those guys who was so small he’d turn sideways and disappear, but there wasn’t much to him. Something told me that didn’t mean he was delicate or breakable, though. Wiry, lean, and powerful, with I dare you to fuck with me eyes. Which for some reason turned me on like crazy tonight.
The dance floor was smaller than it should’ve been, so even though this was a weeknight, the area was already getting crowded. Good thing we didn’t need much space. Wasn’t like either of us wanted a whole lot of breathing room.
Since he’d been so obviously toppy, I was surprised when Anthony turned around and pressed back against me. Not that I was going to argue, especially as I slid my hands over his hips and he squirmed in my grasp. I’d let him decide who was on top tonight. As long as we wound up naked, I didn’t care, because I had a feeling this man would find ways to make me come that I’d never even fantasized about.
I’d had a hard-on since before we’d left the bar, and there was no pretending I didn’t have it now. Not with that small, gorgeous ass grinding against it in time with the music that was suddenly not so annoying. He was one of those gay men who’d apparently been blessed with a natural ability to dance without looking like an idiot. Or, hell, maybe he did look like an idiot, but I was looking at him through fuck me–colored glasses, and everything he did was hot.
His shoulders rubbed my chest. I couldn’t resist nuzzling the side of his neck, pulling in a breath of his cologne or aftershave or whatever the fuck it was. Good, that was what it was. Artificial scents didn’t usually do much for me, but this one hit me like a strong drink. Maybe it wasn’t the cologne itself. Maybe it was the fact that my face was this close to his neck, close enough I could breathe him in. Close enough I could kiss his skin. Or bite it.
Oh Jesus. The thought of him tensing and shivering at the sting of teeth was almost irresistible.
I glanced around. Did I dare? I hadn’t seen any faces from work here. No one I recognized from NAS Adams. Still, all it would take was a surreptitious camera phone, and this would be all over the base. Then again, none of the things I’d done while shit-faced had made it onto social media, and people in gay bars near the base seemed to be reasonably discreet anyway.
But, in that moment, it didn’t matter. With Anthony’s hands sliding down my hips, and his body pushed up against mine while my erection throbbed between us, I really didn’t care about anything.
So I bit the side of his neck. Not hard enough to bruise or break the skin, but hard enough he damn sure felt it.
Even the deafening music wasn’t enough to drown out the ragged moan that escaped his lips as he shuddered.
“Like that?” I murmured in his ear. More like shouted, since the music was so loud.
“Fuck.” He was rubbing so hard on my cock now, it was a wonder the friction didn’t make our clothes disintegrate. “You like to leave marks, don’t you?”
I leaned down again and kissed the spot I’d nipped. “Maybe.”
“So I’m waking up tomorrow with teeth marks all over me?”
My turn to shudder. “You always this direct with people?”
“Says the man who just bit me.”
“To be fair—” I nibbled his earlobe “—you started it.”
“Yeah, I did. And to answer your question . . .” He craned his neck, which meant leaning into me and resting the back of his head on my shoulder. “When I haven’t been laid in too long? You better believe it.”
“You haven’t?” I slipped my fingers between his belt and his pants. “That’s a crying shame.”
“You’re telling me.” He let his lips brush my neck. “Think you can handle a boy like me when he needs it this bad?”
I shivered hard, and there was no way he didn’t feel it, especially not when he laughed and wriggled his ass against my cock. “Didn’t you say something about getting out of here?”
Anthony licked his lips. “Where do you think we should go?”
“My place is about ten minutes from here.”
“And why aren’t we in your bed yet?”
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his throat. “You tell me.”
There was no real first kiss between me and Noah. We parked in front of his apartment, walked inside, and then . . . we were kissing. Tearing at clothes and shoving each other against walls and furniture on the way toward what I assumed was his bed, we were breathlessly and frantically kissing.
I wasn’t disappointed, though. Not when I had a man pawing at me and tasting me and rubbing against me like he’d have fucked me right through my clothes if it were possible. Or let me fuck him through his clothes. Whatever. Why were we still wearing clothes, anyway?
And, sweet Jesus, he was rough. Some guys took it easy on me, probably because I always gravitated toward men who were bigger than me in every way, and they seemed to think I’d break in a strong wind.
Not Noah. Oh God. Should’ve expected that after the way he’d bitten me before we’d even kissed. Fuck yeah, this was exactly the kind of guy I needed tonight. He kissed me hard enough to make sure his five-o’clock shadow scraped against my chin or—when he dipped his head to kiss and bite my neck—my throat. Just the thought of his stubble or his teeth on any other part of my body almost turned me inside out. I clawed at his back through his shirt, arching off the wall he’d pinned me against and trying to figure out how to tell him I wanted him naked with his mouth all over me.
I loved the way he gripped my hair and my butt cheek. My scalp stung, and I’d probably have finger marks tomorrow, and yes, yes, yes, please, more. I egged him on, encouraging him to kiss my neck and up and down and all over until my skin was on fire and I’d definitely have some beard burn tomorrow.
“We’re all sweaty from dancing,” he murmured between kisses. “Maybe we should grab a shower.”
Shower sex was usually tedious and frustrating, but the idea of making out with him under rushing water turned me on. There probably wasn’t much he could do right now that wouldn’t turn me on. I was that horny, and he was that hot.
“Good idea,” I breathed, and nudged him back a step to unpin myself from the wall. “Show me the way.”
He took my hand—as if I wouldn’t have followed him literally anywhere right then—and led me down a short hall to his bedroom and then into the bathroom.
While the water warmed up, we stripped out of our clothes. It was almost businesslike. No comments. Barely any shared looks. No glances around to take everything in and try to glean whatever little bits of Noah I could from the type of razor he used, what color his shower curtain was, or if he rinsed out his sink after he shaved. Maybe I’d get curious about him later. For now, all I wanted was to get these clothes off so we could get down to what we’d come for.
Noah seemed to be very much on the same page. As soon as we were naked, he stepped into the bathtub, and held the curtain aside for me to do the same. Under the hot water, I made a cursory effort to rinse off some sweat, but I was expecting to get a hell of lot sweatier in bed, so whatever. I was much more interested in touching and tasting him. So I did. As much as humanly possible.
I slid a hand between us, and . . . Oh. Oh why yes, letting him take me home had been the best idea I’d had in ages. He had what I’d lovingly dubbed the Goldilocks cock—not so big it would split me in half, not so small I’d wi
sh I hadn’t bothered, but just right.
I knelt in front of him and ignored the hard surface under my knees as I took his equally hard cock between my lips. I wasn’t interested in cocks that dwarfed Coke cans. This, however? Oh yes. Oh fuck yes. Maybe I didn’t want to be on top tonight. Or maybe I did. With the way he moaned and cursed while I teased him all over with my tongue, I definitely wanted to find out what he’d sound like when I was riding his ass for all I was worth.
On the other hand, it had been a while since I’d had my ass ridden by a guy who was this well hung and this enthusiastic. Especially one who I suspected might bite me when I came. Oh, decisions, decisions.
I stood and dragged him into another kiss. He kneaded my ass cheeks, holding me against him so tight that our cocks were trapped between our bodies, and all it took was a slight twist of my hips to make us both groan.
He broke the kiss, and apparently he loved kissing my neck. He couldn’t get enough—growling softly as he let his lips skate up and down the sides of my throat—and I was more than happy to let him do it. Where were all the boys in Denver who were this orally fixated on areas besides my cock? And, holy fuck, when his mouth would make it to my cock . . . I almost came just thinking about it, and rubbed myself harder against him.
“Jesus.” He continued down toward my shoulder, his fingertips biting into my cheeks as if he thought I was going to do anything other than stand here and let him drive me insane.
Jesus was right. Hookups were always hit or miss because they meant getting naked with someone who didn’t know how to arouse me specifically, or how to avoid the things I didn’t like, or who didn’t know I really didn’t care about having my nipples messed with but goddamn it, pull my hair, I’m not going to tell you again. Noah still had no way of knowing my lists of “yes please” and “um, no,” but he was doing just fine. I didn’t want him to know what I liked and didn’t like, because so far, I liked the way he improvised.
