by Anna Martin
“I won’t be late. Don’t kill anything or burn the house down.”
“Sure.”
“And James?”
James gave him a sweet smile.
“I know how many beers are in the fridge. Don’t try anything.”
“Fine,” he sighed.
He watched his dad head to his car and drive down the street, and then he flopped back over the chair.
It wasn’t like James didn’t have friends other than Anthony and Frankie. He did. He got invited to parties. He liked hanging out with the guys from the baseball team. If he called any one of them, they’d probably come over and share a pizza. He wasn’t in the mood for company, though.
James pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the local pizza place that was about a hundred times better than any chain restaurant could even hope to be.
“Hey, it’s James,” he said when Jeff answered.
“Hi, James. Large pepperoni?”
“I hate my life,” James muttered in response.
“Forty minutes.”
James hung up and viciously fought the desire to pout.
Chapter Two
THE GUY cleaning up at the pool table was rocking serious daddy vibes.
“You know him?”
Steve laughed. He’d thought he was being subtle, but he’d never been very good at hiding anything from Carl, especially when it came to staring at hot guys. They had known each other for way too long.
“I think we hooked up once. At Tricks,” Steve explained. Tricks was one of the seedier gay bars in Bakersfield, where Steve preferred to go hunting when in the mood. He tilted his beer up to his lips, not tearing his eyes away from the guy bending over the pool table.
Carl made some kind of noncommittal noise. Since Carl had gotten married last year, he had become even more of a sanctimonious monogamist than he’d been before. It didn’t matter. Steve loved him anyway.
The guy playing pool was definitely older than Steve, probably in his early forties if not older, with dark hair sprinkled with gray. He wore it shorter on the sides and longer on the top, where it just started to curl.
Steve had definitely given him a blow job at some point in their shared history.
“Are you going to go say hi?” Carl asked. He sipped at his lurid blue cocktail.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you should probably stop staring at him either way.”
Steve quickly averted his glance, feeling guilty. Carl just laughed.
They had been friends since their early twenties, when they were two fresh-faced graduates looking to do good in the world. Even though ex-boyfriends had been suspicious and jealous on both sides, they’d never had sex, never seen each other as anything more than really good friends.
Despite their long friendship, Carl was a terrible wingman.
“Come on, I thought you were supposed to be getting over Jason tonight.”
“I am,” Steve protested. He took another pull of his beer. “I’m trying, anyway.”
Carl sighed dramatically. Steve didn’t blame him; he’d been dealing with Steve’s drama queen tendencies for weeks now. The breakup with Jason had been a long, drawn-out affair, with multiple rounds of “it’s over” followed shortly by fucking each other’s brains out.
It had always been like that with Jason—emotional, seductive, ultimately destructive on both sides.
Steve had finally cut the cord when Jason turned up at Steve’s office, half-drunk at midday, begging to be taken back. Steve didn’t have time for that kind of shit in his life, and definitely not at his workplace.
“How’s Brian?” Steve asked, turning back to the bar and putting the hot daddy behind him.
“He’s good,” Carl said. He didn’t get misty-eyed at his husband’s name—they were both far too practical for that. “We’re getting excited about Bella’s puppies. I swear he treats that dog like his firstborn child. I dread to think what he’ll be like when she goes into labor.”
“Dogs don’t really need much intervention in labor, though, right? They just… I don’t know, do their thing.”
“You’d think,” Carl said with an exaggerated sigh, stirring the cocktail umbrella in his drink. “You know Brian, though. If he has a chance to fuss over Bella, he will.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed the hot guy heading to the bar. He signaled Jodi before she could get to him and leaned in close to murmur his instructions.
“What are you up to now?” Carl asked with a weary sigh. Most of Steve’s sexual exploits got this kind of reaction. He was used to it.
“Flirting,” Steve said easily. “I thought we could do it the old-fashioned way this time, and I could buy him a drink first. That’s all.”
“Well, I’m about done anyway, and I don’t want to cramp your style.” He slurped the last of his cocktail and shrugged on his jacket before leaving a few bills on the bar to cover his tab. He blew a kiss to Jodi, who returned it, then left a smacking one on Steve’s cheek.
“Have fun. Be good.”
“Yes, Mom,” Steve said drolly and laughed when Carl playfully swung for him before ducking out.
If it all went terribly wrong, Steve wouldn’t be far behind him.
He tried not to watch too intently as Jodi delivered the guy’s beer, then nodded at Steve at the end of the bar. The guy looked surprised, then blushed a little as he lifted a hand in a wave.
Steve grinned. He was in.
“I didn’t scare your friend away?”
“Not at all,” Steve said easily. “He’s heading home to newlywed domestic bliss. Steve.” He held out his hand.
“Mark.” Mark shook it. “Do I—”
“We hooked up. At Tricks.”
“Ah.” Mark blushed again. He had such fair skin it shouldn’t have been a surprise, and yet Steve found himself ridiculously endeared. “Sorry?”
“Nothing to apologize for. We both had a good time.”
Mark nodded slowly and pushed his fingers through his hair, showing off his ring finger. Which was empty. Steve wasn’t sure if it was a conscious move or not, but the information was certainly useful.
“You were cleaning up over there,” Steve continued. “You a hustler?”
Mark laughed. “No. I just like playing. I don’t care if there’s money on the table. Some hotshot kid decides he’s going to show off, though, and it becomes even more fun.”
“That sounds like the definition of a hustler to me,” Steve teased.
“Only when provoked.”
The easy banter was ridiculously arousing. Despite Carl’s opinion of him, Steve didn’t actually go for random hookups all that often. A few years ago, maybe, okay. That had been his thing. These days he had different priorities.
For this guy, though, Steve was maybe willing to make an exception. Plus, Steve had an ex to get over, and everyone knew the best way to get over an ex-boyfriend was to get under someone else.
“Hey, I don’t know if this is too forward, but do you have any plans for tonight?”
Mark hesitated and swigged his beer to cover his reticence. Steve’s stomach clenched, and he wondered briefly if he’d pushed too hard too fast.
“I can’t host,” Mark said, setting his beer back down on the bar. His expression shifted a little. “I have kids.”
“Oh.” Steve laughed. “Uh, so do I, actually.”
Mark seemed to relax at that. “Teenagers,” he said with a knowing smirk.
“Tell me about it.”
“Hey, so, I don’t normally do this, but could I take your number, Steve? I could call you and… I don’t know. We could go out for dinner sometime?”
Steve nodded. “Sure. Pass me your phone.”
He thumbed his number into Mark’s contact list, then held up the screen to show it to Mark, waiting for his nod before hitting the Dial button. A moment later, his own phone rang.
“So you know it’s not a fake number.” He passed the phone back to Mark.
“I didn’t even think of that,” Mark said with a grimace. “Do people really do that?”
“Oh, more than you’d expect,” Steve said. “I think it’s gross, personally. If you’re not into someone, just tell them, right? But that’s me.”
“I agree.”
Mark caught Steve’s eyes again, and Steve found himself staring. Again.
Mark’s eyes were pale gray, flecked with gold that he hid behind glasses that would have been unfashionable five years ago but now were actually right on trend. His rumpled-professor look suited him, with his soft white button-down and blue jeans, and Steve wanted to rumple him up even more.
Steve licked his lips as he blatantly checked Mark out.
Broad shoulders, waist a little thicker than it likely had been in his twenties. Thighs that filled out those blue jeans just how Steve liked it. At the open collar of Mark’s shirt, different colors of chest hair peeked through the fabric. Mark wore the shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, probably from when he was playing pool, and the hair on his arms was the same soft, light brown color as his chest.
Hot damn.
Steve cleared his throat. Mark had noticed him staring, of course; that was the point.
Silently, Steve finished his pint, then ran his hand down Mark’s arm before sliding off his barstool. There was a bathroom at the back of the bar where all the toilets had been removed from the stalls because of “plumbing issues” a couple of years back, and the owners knew exactly what happened in those stalls now.
Steve didn’t look back to see if Mark was following him.
His heart was beating a little faster as he pushed open the bathroom door, grateful when he found it empty. People would still come and go—he was okay with that—but at least they could get started in relative peace.
A moment later the door swung open again, and Steve grinned, feeling feral and powerful and so fucking sexy when Mark licked his lips.
Steve didn’t say anything, just stepped into Mark’s personal space, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him hot and hard. Mark’s hands were immediately on Steve’s hips, pushing him back against the wall so they could grind together.
Mark made a little noise in the back of his throat, and God, that was sexy. Steve reversed their positions, backing Mark up against the door, and went to sink to his knees.
Mark stopped him with a hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“I’m okay with doing this here,” he said, “but at least let’s take it into a stall.”
Steve huffed a laugh and let Mark lead him to the stall at the end. This one didn’t even have a door, just graffiti on the walls with numbers advertising hookups, and a glory hole at exactly the right height.
This time when Steve knelt, Mark didn’t stop him, and pushed his fingers into Steve’s short hair to hold him steady while Steve unbuttoned his fly.
Mark wore tight black boxer briefs, and his cock was already half-hard inside them. Steve sucked on the fabric, right over the head of Mark’s cock, delighted when Mark moaned again. He was definitely going to be loud when they fucked, and that was one of Steve’s biggest turn-ons.
Carefully, Steve released Mark’s cock from his underwear and licked at the head, delighting in the taste of him. He wrapped his lips around the first couple of inches and sucked, changing the pressure and the rhythm as Mark got harder in his mouth.
The fingers in his hair tightened.
Steve stilled for a moment when the bathroom door opened, making way for two other guys who clearly had the same plans. Steve got to work, wanting to put on a show in case the guys decided they wanted to watch. Plus, he was good at sucking cock—great, in fact—and Mark should definitely get to experience that.
The guys didn’t come all the way to the end of the bathroom, and Steve couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or not. After a few minutes of bobbing on Mark’s cock, periodically letting it hit the back of his throat, Steve pulled back.
“You wanna fuck me?” he asked, voice low.
“Yeah. Fuck yeah.”
Steve grinned and rolled to his feet, knees protesting from kneeling on cold bathroom tile. He unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans down as Mark assaulted his mouth again, licking the flavor of his own cock off Steve’s tongue.
Steve reversed their positions, pressing his forearms to the wall and sticking his ass out. He gave Mark a sly smile over his shoulder and handed him a condom.
“All right,” Mark murmured, probably to himself.
A moment later Steve felt the cool touch of one of those prefilled lube syringes against his hole. He shuddered as the cool liquid slicked inside him, aided by Mark’s fingers.
“That’s better,” Mark said with his lips pressed to Steve’s neck. Then he bit at Steve’s earlobe.
“Fuck me.”
“Oh, I’m going to.”
Steve glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mark was wearing the condom, then rested his forehead on his fists. Mark’s cock was good—big, but not too big, and thick. Mark palmed Steve’s dick, then spread his asscheeks, nudging the head of that big cock against his hole.
Steve rocked back, inviting him inside.
It didn’t take much, not with the lube easing the way. He was desperate to grunt, to moan loudly and beg Mark for his cock, to give it to him hard, but he wasn’t sure exactly where Mark’s comfort level was. Instead he bit his fist, whimpering at the dual sensation of the cock stretching him open and fighting his urge to scream.
Then it started.
The other couple, the one who hadn’t come to watch, were clearly a few minutes behind where Mark and Steve had gotten to.
“Yeah, choke on my cock, you little whore.”
Then the sort of noise that sounded like it had been wrenched from the owner, a desperate, needy, high whine.
“That’s right, baby. Suck it.”
“Fuck,” Mark muttered and snapped his hips, filling Steve’s ass in one hard thrust.
Steve couldn’t help it—he yelped at that. It was too much, too good, too fast, and he was definitely going to come quickly.
Some kind of battle of the tops seemed to ensue. Mark fought to drive those desperate noises from Steve as the top in the other stall did the same to the guy sucking his cock. Steve felt wrecked, desperate, and ridiculously turned on, loving the edge of exhibitionism in this with some unknown, faceless other couple.
“Come on my face. I want it.”
“Jesus,” Steve muttered. The word turned into a whimper as Mark grabbed his cock, not really jerking it but squeezing in time with his thrusts.
The sounds from the other stall got louder, more desperate, then someone whined again and a hand slapped the wall, and Mark dropped his head to press it between Steve’s shoulders.
Steve came first, not caring about anything other than Mark at that moment. Mark seemed to sense it and nailed Steve’s prostate, his aim perfect as Steve relentlessly milked his cock.
“Hold on,” Mark grunted, and holy shit that was hot too. Steve did as he was told and accepted the slap on the ass with good grace as Mark fucked him through his orgasm.
The rushing in Steve’s ears drowned out the noise of whatever the other couple was doing. In the time it took Steve to get his faculties back, they’d done whatever cleanup they were going to do and the door to the bathroom closed behind them.
Mark cleaned off Steve’s ass like some kind of gentleman and disposed of the condom in the little trash can that was definitely kept in the corner of the stall for that very purpose. Steve wasn’t sure his knees were working yet, but he managed to get his pants back up and his belt buckled.
When he turned around, Mark looked almost sheepish. It was adorable.
Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Mark’s neck and pulled him in for another slow kiss.
“You should still call me,” Steve said with a wink when he pulled away, faux swagger that he didn’t really feel. It covered a sudden rush of nerves.
Mark’s
cheeks were still flushed as he buttoned his fly. “I intended to,” he said. He lifted shy eyes to meet Steve’s and offered a small smile.
“Okay, good. Because I want that as much as I wanted… that.”
Mark leaned over and kissed Steve again with swollen lips, a gentle thing that turned into a wet, licking, sucking thing with Steve’s fingers digging into Mark’s biceps.
“Me too.” Mark shook his head and laughed softly. “Sorry, apparently I go all monosyllabic after I come.”
Steve straightened up and decided to leave before he did something stupid. Like tell Mark how absolutely adorable he was.
“I’ll see you later,” he said and ducked out of the stall.
“Yeah,” he heard as he exited the bathroom. “Later.”
Chapter Three
ON MONDAY at lunch, James got a text.
Your truck’s fixed. Dylan.
Wow. A man of many words.
“What are you smiling at?” Anthony demanded, leaning over James’s shoulder.
“My truck’s done,” he said, quickly locking the screen. “Can you give me a ride to go pick it up later?”
Anthony nodded and shoved another handful of fries into his mouth.
“Classy.” James rolled his eyes.
That afternoon, James didn’t share a class with either Anthony or Frankie. Since the start of the year, he’d thought of it as his “get out into the world, James” time, when he interacted with other members of the student body who hadn’t known him since they were in utero or shortly afterward.
Actually there were a lot of kids in his classes that he’d known since kindergarten. Some of them had been assholes for the past twelve years, and others had actually mellowed as they edged ever closer to graduation.
