Balls for Breakfast

by Louise Collins

  “Hey…”

  Travis turned at the voice by his ear and glanced up at the stranger. Even in the low light of the club, Travis could see the man’s eyes were ocean blue. His hair was short and dark, and a slight smile spread his lips. He was handsome, but he didn’t get Travis’s pulse racing like Patrick did.

  “I’m Samson.”

  Travis placed his beer on the bar and offered his hand. “Travis.”

  They shook, but Samson didn’t loosen his grip. He kept hold of Travis’s hand, and ran his thumb over his knuckles.

  “So, what do you do?”

  Travis licked his lips and tried to remember what Luke had told him. He said not to mention his job, but Samson had specifically asked…

  “Travis?”

  “Postman. I’m a postman.”

  Samson lifted his eyebrow. “So you’re good at handling delicate packages?”

  Travis forced a laugh, but it sounded strangled.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Samson asked.

  Travis tipped his head back and gestured at the beer. “I just got one.”

  Samson snorted, then released Travis’s hand. “Well … maybe later then.”

  “Later.” Travis said.

  Samson tilted his head, frowned, then strolled away.

  “So … that went well…”

  Travis startled at Luke’s voice. “Jesus, trying to give me a heart attack?”

  Luke gestured to Samson retreating across the room. “So, what happened? Did you act all confident and introduce yourself?”

  “No, he came over, introduced himself, mentioned packages, then asked if I wanted a drink.”

  Luke nodded along. “Right, that sounds positive. And you said?”

  “I already had a drink.”

  Luke smacked his palm to his forehead. “Bloody hell, Travis.”

  “What? I do have a drink…”

  “Next time just say yes.”

  Amy appeared beside Luke with a beer in one hand, and a bright pink cocktail in the other.

  “I love this place already,” she said cheerfully.

  The three of them found a table with a view of the dance floor.

  “Anyone take your fancy?” Amy asked.

  The club was full of men, but none got Travis’s heart fluttering. They were handsome, with coy smiles and winking eyes, but they weren’t muscular and wide. They didn’t have mature lines across their foreheads, or around their eyes. They didn’t have big, experienced hands that could pin him down, and hold him still. They didn’t look at him like they knew exactly what they wanted to do to him, and how it would last all night long.

  He looked at the men glancing back at him, and one resounding thought registered in his head. Quickies, they were all after quickies. Travis didn’t want a rushed fondle in the bathroom. He wanted a more experienced man to have his way with him.

  “Not really,” Travis said finally.

  Luke nudged him with his shoulder. “Look, I know there’s no walkers, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.”

  Amy grabbed Travis’s hand before he could slap Luke, then stood up and tugged Travis to his feet.

  “Where we going?”

  “Dance floor.”

  “Really?”

  Amy nodded and dragged Travis across the room. The music was loud enough to rattle his bones and steal the oxygen in his lungs. The smell of paint and plaster made way for body odor and sweat.

  Amy leaned in close and hissed in his ear. “Dance.”

  He gave in and swayed his hips to the music. He knew the songs and mimed along to them dramatically with Amy. He felt eyes on him, and connected gazes with the guy closing in on him. He laughed lightly when he realized it was Samson.

  The glitter balls spun, and the music boomed, and Travis found himself magnetized to Samson. He frowned, glanced over his shoulder, and noticed Amy pushing him.

  Samson smiled, then bit his lip seductively. Travis got closer, until they were chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Even feeling the heat in Samson’s pants didn’t wake his cock. It lay dormant, oblivious to the situation.

  Next thing he knew, he was being manhandled off the dance floor, not by Samson, but by Luke.

  “What the hell?” Amy shouted, following close behind.

  Luke panted, and stooped over. He mumbled something, but neither of them heard.

  They both leaned over to hear Luke clearer, then Amy said, “Repeat that?”

  “You’re not gonna believe who just walked in…”

  “Who?” Amy asked.

  Before Luke had even answered. Travis knew it was Patrick. He knew by the jump in his heart rate, and the pin-prick feeling down his back. He straightened and looked across the room. Patrick sat in a booth on his own with his eyes locked on Travis. He didn’t look happy, but fierce and stern, and Travis’s cock throbbed to life.

  Chapter Four

  “He must’ve had us bugged,” Luke mumbled.

  Amy waved her hand between them. “Or he followed us.”

  Luke nodded. “Either way, we’re in trouble.”

  Travis craned his neck out from their hiding position by the bar. He flinched and ducked down when his gaze connected with Patrick’s. The brief bout of eye contact left him hot and shivery and he didn’t understand why.

  “He still just sitting there?” Amy asked.

  Travis nodded. “Still there.”

  “Still looking murderous?”

  Travis nodded again. “Murderous.”

  “Let me take a look,” Luke muttered, stepping out.

  Amy and Travis watched as a frown tightened Luke’s face, then he turned and walked back towards them.

  “What is it?” Amy asked.

  “Who the fuck wears a tie to a night club?”

  “Patrick apparently.” Amy hissed.

  Black trousers, white shirt, and black tie, Patrick looked hot and smoldering across the room. No one else in the club looked like him—many wore the black trousers, white shirt combo, including Luke, but none of them pulled it off like Patrick. He looked mature, and hot, and all other guys in the club looked pubescent in comparison.

  “We can’t stay here all night,” Luke mumbled.

  “Then what do you suggest?” Amy squeaked.

  Travis took a few deep breaths to slow his thumping heart. “We carry on as normal.”

  Amy hissed, “What if he comes over?”

  “He’s not going to do anything in a crowded club,” Luke said firmly.

  “You sure?”

  “Travis is right, we can’t stay huddled in the corner. Agreed?”

  Amy and Travis nodded.

  “Your idea, so you walk out first,” Luke mumbled.

  He gave Travis a small push, but he resisted, then sighed, and gave in.

  “Fine.”

  Travis strolled out from their hiding place with all the confidence he could muster and went to the bar. He didn’t check if Amy and Luke were following, and he didn’t look at Patrick sitting in the booth. His senses of sight, smell, and sound were brutally pushed aside for sensitivity. His skin seemed to flicker under Patrick’s gaze. Nervous sweat pooled in his armpits, and his green shirt clung to his chest. He undid the top two buttons of his shirt and flapped the material. It didn’t cool his body temperature. All that could do that was a trip outside to the smoking area, but that meant he had to pass Patrick’s booth.

  “If looks could kill.” Luke mumbled.

  “We’d all be dead.”

  Amy clicked her nails on the bar. “More than that, we’d be made into slurry, and fed to the pigs.”

  “He doesn’t work for the mafia,” Travis growled.

  “Turn around, look at him, then say that to me.”

  Travis huffed, turned and looked at Patrick, suited, and sinister in the corner, then whipped his head back to Amy.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Let’s—let’s just get a drink.”

  “Exactly…”

  Tra
vis ordered his beer, then slid along the bar. Luke and Amy joined him, he holding another beer, and she, another pink cocktail glass.

  “This kind of scuppers our plans.” Luke muttered.

  Amy shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. Patrick isn’t the only one looking over. Samson is, too.”

  Luke glanced at Samson, then huffed. “Not keen on him.”

  Amy snorted. “Why, because he’s more handsome than you?”

  “No, because he looks at Travis like he wants to eat him.”

  “That’s exactly the look we’re hoping for,” Amy argued. “At the moment there’s two guys in here staring at Travis, one wants to eat him, the other wants to kill him. I know what I’d prefer if it were me. What do you think of him, Travis?”

  “Not enough wrinkles and grey hair?” Luke snorted.

  Travis sighed loudly. “I just wanna have a beer in peace.”

  “Is that a hint to leave you alone?” Amy snapped.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Travis lifted his glass to his lips and took an audible mouthful.

  “Fine,” Amy said. She tugged Luke’s arm and his beer sloshed, and he cursed. “We’ll be over here if you want us.”

  Travis shot a look at Amy and Luke sitting a few tables away, then he glanced at Samson leaning on the wall by the dance floor, before finally the pull of Patrick was too much to ignore, and he flashed a look behind.

  There was no one else in his booth, and the beer on the table looked untouched. He scanned Patrick’s appearance with saliva gathering in his mouth, then swallowed hard when he realized Patrick was studying him the same way. Travis wasn’t sure what he was hoping for when he sent Amy and Luke away, but he was alone at the bar with a vacant stool beside him.

  “Travis…”

  He spun around and looked at Samson. “Hi.”

  Samson snorted, then lowered himself on the vacant stool. The heat simmering in Travis’s veins cooled, and he realized he was hoping for Patrick to claim the seat next to him, not Samson.

  “You rushed off the dance floor pretty quick?”

  Travis smiled apologetically. “Yeah, sorry about that. Luke dragged me away.”

  “I was tempted to drag you back, you got some hot moves on you.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Samson leaned closer and clutched Travis’s knee. “Believe me, you have. Got me very horny.”

  Travis shuffled uncomfortably and glanced back at Patrick. Patrick’s intense stare robbed him of all thoughts, and his mouth flapped helplessly.

  “Sorry, was that a bit too forward?” Samson laughed.

  Travis shook his head. “No, it’s not that, forwards is good, better than backwards.”

  Samson smirked, and whipped his head round. “That guy in the booth.”

  “What about him?”

  “Your dad, uncle maybe?”

  “No, urm … he’s my neighbor.”

  “Neighbor? Your perverted neighbor.”

  Travis scrunched his face. “He’s not a pervert.”

  “Oh, please, he’s been staring at you since he got here. Undressing you with his eyes. He wants to tear your clothes off, fuck you and take you home, probably in that order, too.”

  Travis gawped, and it took a few seconds for him to recover his voice. “He isn’t looking at me like that.”

  Samson clacked his tongue and smiled. “He is, filthy pervert. You wanna know how I know that’s what he’s thinking when he looks at you?”

  “How?”

  “I’m thinking the same. But too bad for him, I got here first.”

  Samson grinned smugly and pulsed his fingers around Travis’s thigh.

  Travis looked down at his hand, too narrow, too youthful, too soft. Warmth didn’t seep through to his thigh, the touch felt almost cold. He shivered and frowned in confusion.

  When he turned back to Patrick, he was stroking his jaw, without knowing it showed Travis the hand he wanted. Big, rough, weathered, and experienced. Their eyes connected once again, and heat wrapped around Travis’s spine making him sit upright in the stool. More alert, and ready.

  “About that drink…”

  Travis blinked back to awareness, then looked over to Luke and Amy. Amy with a big smile on her face, and her thumbs up, and Luke narrowing his eyes and watching Samson studiously.

  “What? Do you have to ask your friends for permission?”

  Travis shook his head and laughed lightly. “No, of course not, a drink sounds great.”

  “Great.” Samson said, slapping his hands on the bar. “Two beers coming up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it, been trying to get a drink down you since I saw you.”

  Travis frowned, and Samson laughed, and tossed his head left and right. “That sounded creepy, didn’t it? What I meant is you’ve looked uptight since you arrived, time to loosen you up, and then we can hit the dance floor again.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “And once you’ve wooed me with your moves, we can get a taxi back to my place.”

  Patrick’s gaze seemed to burn Travis’s back, and he shuffled on the stool instead of answering. He stared at the bar and listened to Samson shout his order. The glasses clunked, and Travis glanced up.

  “This is what you need,” Samson mumbled.

  Next thing Travis knew, Luke and Amy were up, frantically flapping their hands, then an arm shot in front of him, and a rough hand closed around Samson’s wrists. He yelped and tried to pry his wrist free, but Patrick didn’t give him up. He tightened his grip until Travis was certain he heard bones crunching.

  “What the hell!” Samson yelled.

  “What did you put in his drink?” Patrick growled.

  He leaned menacingly towards Samson and he cowered and blubbered at the bar. “N-nothing.”

  Travis looked at his glass. It fizzled, and bubbles popped on the top. He moved his attention to Samson’s beer, unreactive in comparison.

  “I’ll ask again—what did you put in Travis’s drink?”

  Samson cried out and clawed at Patrick’s hand. “Let go, let go.”

  “Tell me!”

  “He said he wanted to loosen up, and I wanted to give him a helping hand.”

  Patrick gritted his teeth and growled through them. “Is that so? I’ll return the favor, give you a helping hand, too.”

  Travis was certain he heard Samson’s knuckles pop. He panted, and tears ran down his cheeks.

  “I’m gonna hold your hand all the way to the door,” Patrick promised.

  He dragged Samson away, then stopped and spoke over his shoulder to Travis. “Don’t move.”

  Travis shivered at his tone, then nodded obediently. Patrick crushed Samson’s hand all the way to the front of the club, then he disappeared out the door.

  Luke’s hand came down heavy on Travis’s shoulder, and he jumped. “Easy. You okay?”

  Travis looked at his beer. There were no more bubbles, but the sight of it made his gut clench.

  “No, not really…”

  “I’ll tell ‘em to pour it away,” Luke said.

  “He spiked you,” Amy said, “I can’t believe he spiked you.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t notice. What an absolute idiot.”

  Amy gripped his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Course it is. I should’ve been paying attention.”

  “In that case, me and Luke are to blame, too. We weren’t watching Samson either, but Patrick was.”

  “Yeah, and he probably thinks I’m a complete idiot, too. Maybe I have “easy target” written on my head. Or naïve and desperate.”

  Travis shrugged Amy’s hand off his arm and turned away.

  “Come on, let’s go outside and get a taxi,” Luke said.

  Travis shook his head. “No, I’ve—I’ve gotta stay here.”

  “Why?” Amy asked.

  “Because I told him to,” Patrick grumbled.

  His deep voice soothed the t
humping music from Travis’s ears. He wanted nothing more than to lean back into Patrick’s chest and be crushed by his arms.

  “Back off,” Luke snapped, “I almost lost my best friend to some idiot just now. I’m not losing him to another one.”

  Travis whipped around and glared at Luke squaring up to Patrick.

  “Did you just call me an idiot?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Even with Luke lifting his chin, and pushing his chest out, he looked tiny compared to Patrick. It was almost comical, but then Patrick cracked his knuckles, and pulled back his lip.

  “I’m not scared of you,” Luke said, but his wide eyes, and his wobbling lip said otherwise.

  Patrick tilted his head. “I could squash you like a bug.”

  “Yeah … well … you probably could, but I’d make it messy and unpleasant.”

  Amy gasped in shock, then grimaced. “Ewww.”

  “Stop it,” Travis said, stepping forward. He positioned himself between Luke and Patrick, with his back to his friends. He couldn’t look Patrick in the face, and instead stared at his chin.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, “for sorting out Samson.”

  “Held his hand all the way to the bouncer outside, then I let him take over while he waits for the police.”

  Travis smiled weakly, but refused to connect their gazes. A warm hand cupped his cheek, and he felt the simultaneous urge to press into it and push it away. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as the heat of Patrick’s hand soaked into his drained complexion.

  “Open your eyes.”

  He did so hesitantly and winced when he came face to face with Patrick. He had lifted Travis’s face, and when he tried to duck down again, he held firmer, and raised his eyebrows.

  “Stop. I want you to look at me.”

  Patrick wasn’t narrowing his eyes or sneering. A soft smile tickled the edges of his lips, and his eyes were round and kind.

  “You gave your daddy a scare…”

  Travis gasped, and stood straighter. “Did you just call yourself—”

  Patrick nodded, cutting off the rest of Travis’s words. They didn’t need words. There was want in Patrick’s eyes, and he circled his other arm around Travis’s back and pulled him closer. Chest to panting chest, and crotch to aroused crotch.