Kyle Drake leaned against the large, circular bar set dead center in the cavernous room and took a languorous sip from the longneck beer bottle gripped in his clammy fist. He gazed restlessly over the crowded dance floor, unmoved by the sight of dozens of sweaty men and women in various stages of undress, bumping and grinding to the heavy thump of classic rock that pulsed out of the loudspeakers overhead. The scene should’ve had some effect on him, since the men outnumbered the women by a ratio of six to one, but it didn’t. All those hot male bodies rutting and writhing -- acres of scantily clad flesh to choose from -- and all he felt was impatience.Taking another long pull from his drink, Kyle turned his focus to the small clusters of people socializing here and there along the fringes of the large open room. He squinted to see better through the dim atmosphere, searching for one man who made his pulse pound and his dick ache for attention.
A pale, ginger-haired man, dressed in black denim and a sleeveless black T-shirt that accentuated his bulging biceps, walked past Kyle and looked him over. Kyle glanced away before the other man thought he was interested. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the redhead shrug and moved on.
Since he’d arrived at Club Oasis thirty minutes ago, Kyle had been cruised by several men and women. Their gazes had met his for just the right duration; their come hither smiles trying to lure him into accompanying them out onto the packed dance floor or, more likely, into one of the secluded booths in the back room. His face heated as he recalled the way one woman had pulled down her stretchy shirt and waved her pendulous breasts at him, pouting when he shook his head and looked away. She’d had a nice pair, he had to give her that, but he’d never been much on tits.
Firm pecs and hard nipples are much more my style.Through it all, his dick remained flaccid inside the snug black jeans he’d squeezed into earlier in the evening. His body refused to react to their offerings, holding out for the one man who turned his insides to putty and made him come so hard his eyes rolled back in his head. A man Kyle already knew he couldn’t have for anything more than a casual fuck.
Teague Johnson, sex on legs and co-owner of Club Oasis, was an enigma. An unending mix of smooth sensuality and mystery that Kyle’s brain raced to unravel, while his body simply yearned for more. More contact, more time…more everything.
Kyle had met the other man upon joining the club with his then boyfriend Darren and had instantly been attracted to the tall, virile man. Shortly thereafter, Darren had ditched him for an older, richer, sugar daddy, and Kyle had been free to indulge in his desire for Teague.
After the first hasty fuck in the backroom, he honestly hadn’t expected to get a repeat performance from the sexy club proprietor. He’d been off his game that night, so excited by the prospect of cornering the other man that he’d shot his load almost the minute Teague pushed inside him. Mortification was an understatement compared to what he felt in response to popping off like a horny boy with his thieved copy of Playgirl. To his surprise, Teague had approached him the following weekend, and their routine was born. For the last few months, they’d been fucking every Saturday.
Kyle kept waiting for Teague to move onto someone fresh and new, but he hadn’t yet. The arrangement would have been perfect, and had been for a couple of months, but lately Kyle found himself wanting to talk to the other man, to share things he had no business discussing with someone who was only a fuck-buddy.
The situation was as annoying as it was hopeless. Yet there he stood, back at the club on Saturday night, waiting to see if he’d have another shot at the man he was quickly falling for, despite the knowledge that his feelings would never be returned. Coming here, making himself available, was an effort in futility. It was also a compulsion Kyle couldn’t resist.
He was smart enough to realize things would end badly -- probably sooner rather than later. That hadn’t stopped him from acting on the strong impulse to be with Teague, not tonight or any of the previous nights he’d broken down and given in to the urge. His sexual demons rode him as hard as he yearned for Teague’s touch. No matter how pathetic and empty he felt afterward, there was just something about the other man that kept drawing him back for more.
Finally, he spotted Teague off to the right side of the building near the entrance. The other man loomed a head above the crowd, chatting with a small group of men Kyle didn’t recognize. Even amid the cluster of more heavily built men decked out in everything from leather to spandex, Teague stood out like a beacon, a flame among the embers.
Kyle watched as his lover’s gaze casually scanned the room, even as he laughed in response to something one of the men said. Although he knew he was staring like a lovelorn kid, Kyle couldn’t look away. This was Teague in his element, always watchful, always…on. It made him wonder what his lover would be like outside of work. Would he be alert and reserved as he was here? The thought skittered away when Teague turned in his direction and their gazes clashed across the space separating them.
Kyle shivered, Teague’s penetrating stare as potent as a hand caressing his fly, and lifted his beer in way of hello. Teague acknowledged Kyle with a barely perceivable nod before turning his attention back to the men around him.
Kyle’s pulse thrummed, his blood rushing south to fill his shaft, making it ache from just one simple glimpse of his lover. He gulped down the last of his beer, the semi-cold dregs barely enough to quench his thirst, and set the empty bottle down on the bar. Glancing at his watch, he pushed the button on the side to light up the face and noted it was nearly midnight.
After sneaking one last glance at his lover, Kyle began to weave his way through the crush of people toward the backroom. Teague did a walk-through at ten, twelve, and two -- you could set your watch by his punctuality -- and Kyle planned to be there when the other man showed up.
He pushed aside the curtain of chains separating the illustrious backroom from the main floor and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. The stout tang of semen and sweat hung in the air, a hint of something almost coppery under the stronger scents. The wet slap of flesh and hoarse male groans echoed through the passage.
Tiny booths lined each side of hallway, each cubicle with its own large viewing window from approximately waist-height up to the eight feet ceilings. Crimson velveteen drapes shielded the glass, on the off chance whomever used them wanted privacy. He seemed to be the only club member who preferred to keep his sexual activities private.
Within the tight confines of his jeans, Kyle’s dick twitched and began to swell in anticipation. He stepped inside, his eyesight gradually adjusting to the change in light. Although he had planned to walk to the end of the corridor and wait in one of the last rooms for Teague, that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind and sneak a glimpse of the other things going on around him. Looking had never hurt anyone, but it did give him some extra creative ideas for what he and Teague could do during their time together. The man was an inspiration to Kyle’s libido. While he would be more than satisfied by straight sucking and fucking, he didn’t think that would hold his lover’s attention for long. Teague owned a sex club, for God’s sake; there probably wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or done a time or ten. The last thing Kyle wanted was for him to get bored.
Quick peeks into the first couple of six-by-nine rooms provided glimpses of unknown couples in different stages of vanilla sex. One man had his female partner pinned to the glass, the globes of her round buttocks pressing more firmly against the viewing window with every thrust. Another man stood facing the far wall, his ass pushed out, while his male partner held his ass cheeks open and noisily slurped at his hole. Neither was anything that really caught Kyle’s attention.
The third room offered up something a little different and he stopped for a moment to watch the threesome inside. Morbid curiosity kept his feet glued to the floor as two large bruisers fucked a slight blond man. The twink hung suspended in a sling connected to the exposed beams in the ceiling, strips of black leather tethered by silver metal rings crisscrossing his pale body and bracketing his thighs. A blood red ball gag spread his lips wide, his eyes scrunched tight in pleasure, pain, or a little of both.
More interesting than the tools of their trade, or even each man’s individual appeal, was the fact that the blond was lifted to the perfect height between his partners’s muscular bodies, his hips at the perfect angle to accept either of their sizeable pricks inside his ass. Kyle studied their rhythm as they plowed in and out, the steady cadence of back and forth that grew faster, rougher with every ragged inhalation. The measure of their thrusts seemed like a dance, one pulling out while the other squeezed inside, the timing behind each lunge impeccable.
Kyle considered what it must feel like for the man in the middle, to be surrounded by all that hot, silky skin rubbing over every inch of his body while his lovers held him captive. His ass cheeks clenched just thinking about it. On the other hand, being one of the men doing the fucking, squeezing into that hot, tight hole… That sounded pretty fucking good, too. His dick jerked inside his Levi’s with the intense desire to find out.
Would a threesome be something Teague was into? He’d have to think on that one a little more before suggesting it. It was an interesting thought, but sometimes fantasy didn’t play out well in reality. He knew that better than anyone.
The blond moaned around his gag, a shudder running through his slender body, as he came in what Kyle imagined would be the first of many orgasms before his partners were finished with him.
He tore himself away from the trio and continued down the hall, ignoring the other rooms and occupants in favor of finding an empty one to await Teague. Watching was fun, but it only went so far.
Kyle rubbed the heel of his hand over the stiff outline of his cock and winced. The metal teeth of the zipper bit into his flesh, chafing the delicate skin of his shaft. If he didn’t get some relief soon he was going to have permanent track marks up and down his dick. He shuddered. If he wanted to decorate his prick, he’d wear a cock ring or get a piercing. Scars didn’t bear thinking on.
After locating an empty room at the end of the hall, he slipped inside and pulled the drapes shut behind him. Kyle quickly undressed and folded his clothes, laying them in a neat pile in one corner of the bare room.
Naked save for white cotton ankle socks, Kyle leaned against the back wall and took his cock in hand, loosely stroking its rigid length to full thickness. Soft skin shifted over the hard inner core, the friction barely enough to tease. His eyelids drooped, imagining what would happen once Teague arrived. Looking forward to it.
The faint sound of chains rattling at the end of the hall filled the air with a musical tinkling. Kyle stiffened in anticipation. There was no guarantee the person entering the back room was Teague, but Kyle felt certain it was.
He glanced down at his watch, squinting in the dim light. One minute after twelve. Right on time.
Schooling his respiration into slow and even breaths, Kyle tried to calm the pulse thundering in his ears. He didn’t want to appear too eager, even if it was the only thing he’d been able to think about all week. Showing any expectation -- when their meetings were supposed to be fun and noncommittal -- would be akin to the kiss of death for their non-relationship.
No more than five or six minutes passed before heavy footsteps clattered directly outside the booth. The curtain rustled and slid back with a quiet whoosh, revealing Teague in all his divine glory. A snug black T-shirt hugged his broad chest and lean torso; the short sleeves cupped the muscular contours of his biceps. Leather pants clung to trim hips and long, athletic thighs. As nice as the legs were, it was the impressive bulge between them that made Kyle’s mouth water. He knew precisely what lay beneath the butter soft leather and couldn’t wait to get his hands or his mouth around it. The salty-sweet ambrosia of Teague’s skin was as addictive as methamphetamine, and Kyle couldn’t wait for another taste.
Kyle lifted his eyes and met Teague’s gaze from across the room. Teague still stood in the doorway, casually braced over the threshold. He regarded Kyle with a neutral expression, his dark eyes betraying not a hint of what was on his mind. “Back for more, are you?”
Kyle smiled in spite of the brisk greeting. “You know it.” He forced himself not to take offense at what Teague said. The man seemed overly wary of being too nice, as if a few kind words were the equivalent of exchanging a vow of everlasting love. “I can’t seem to get my fill of you. I’m addicted to your sweet cock. Think I could find a suitable twelve-step program for that?”
Teague let the drapes fall closed behind him and stalked across the room toward Kyle. The fluid, innate grace of his approach made Kyle’s heart race in excitement. Teague stopped a hairsbreadth away from Kyle and rubbed the tip of one forefinger along his collarbone. “I might, but why would you want to go to all that trouble when I’m right here to soothe away your craving?”
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