by Zane Menzy
They had been here for two hours and so far it had been more trouble than it was worth. If his father hadn’t been so stupidly generous—again—giving him two hundred in cash for the night out, he might have suggested they head home. While it wasn’t enough money to go crazy with, it was enough to cover him and Garth for the evening. Or so he hoped.
The cool air of outside licked Keegan’s skin, while the stench of tobacco swirled all around him as countless lungs puffed out the toxic fumes. Keegan didn’t care though. He preferred the stench of smoke to the inferno of bodies grinding inside to the catastrophically loud music.
“This place is fucking manic, bro,” Garth said, watching as a new line of people past them to enter the club.
“It’s manically something,” Keegan grumbled.
“What’s wrong?” Garth stared at him with concern. “Aren’t you having fun?”
“I suppose I am.”
“You could lie a little more convincingly.”
“I am having a fan-fucking-tastic time!” Keegan grinned facetiously.
“That’s better.” Garth stuck his tongue out. “You should be having fun considering how many guys keep checking you out.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Keegan said, downplaying the level of attention he knew he had been getting. Attention that had come in a wave of eyeballs following him and Garth the moment they walked in the door. One guy wearing a red shirt seemed overly enchanted with him and had been throwing sultry looks Keegan’s way all night. The guy had black hair with a bleach-blond stripe down the middle, which unintentionally made him resemble a skunk. And considering his eyeballing persistence, Keegan had nicknamed him Pepé Le Pew.
“Are you fucking blind?” Garth suddenly pointed into the crowd of people. “All those guys have been looking at you. Him. Him. The tall bald dude. And especially that fucker in the red shirt.”
“Shut up,” Keegan hissed, yanking Garth’s arm down.
Garth smiled, finding Keegan’s embarrassment funny. “I was just showing you who they were.”
I didn’t need help with that.
Keegan’s stomach rumbled in shame. He turned around to see the mentioned men all flick their attention away after being so crudely snapped out. Except Pepé Le Pew. He braved the outing and kept staring, not the slightest bit bothered. Keegan turned to face Garth again. “They won’t be looking as much now they probably think I am out with my crazy jealous boyfriend.”
Garth smiled, looking pleased with himself. “Ha. They’ll all envy me thinking I’m the one that’s shoving my cock in you tonight.”
“You wish. If anything, it would be me shoving my cock in you.”
“Ooo, I love it when you get all aggro, baby,” Garth said in a girly voice. “Are you gonna take me home and take it out on my sweet virgin ass?”
“Please refer to my previous response. You. Fucking. Wish.”
Garth arched his eyebrows. “Do I now?”
Keegan turned around again to see if there was anyone outside that might be his type. He perused the crowd like he was looking for a shirt to wear. One that was the perfect fit and that looked just like Liam. There weren’t any Liam lookalikes here though. He hadn’t seen any inside either. It wasn’t that the bar was void of talent. It was just that none of the talent stood out. No one had an x factor. If he were going to do something stupid like hook up with a complete stranger, then the least they would have to do was make him go wow.
Even if fate smiled down on him and a long-lost twin of Liam walked in the door, Keegan would still be screwed because it wasn’t like he could bring a guy back to his father’s house for sex. Aside from the rudeness of it, it ran too greater risk of being busted with another guy. The alternative would be to go back to the other guy’s place but that brought a whole different set of problems like not being able to find his way back to Port Jackson. At least with Garth he would feel safe if they did lose their way.
“I can tell you’re looking for a root,” Garth said bluntly.
Keegan spun back ‘round. “You’re the one who told me I should be.”
“Yeah, but that was before I found out I was your crazy jealous boyfriend,” Garth teased. “You don’t want to make me look bad in front of all these guys now that we’re officially a pretend couple.”
“Ha. Maybe we can tell them we have an open relationship?”
“Oh great, so now I’m dating a slut.” Garth grimaced. “Is that the kind of thing you would be into?”
“No, dick. I was joking,” Keegan snapped back. Keegan noticed Garth looking over his shoulder with a snotty look on his face. “Why do you look like someone just killed your puppy?” Keegan asked.
“That dude in the red shirt keeps staring at you.” Garth sculled back on his drink, his eyes remaining fixed on the adamant admirer behind Keegan. “That’s just rude.”
“Well, you can chill out pretend boyfriend because I ain’t planning on hooking up with him.”
“That ain’t the point. He doesn’t know we aren’t a couple.” Garth shook his head. “He’s encroaching on my man and making me look like a weak one.”
“You really get into role playing don’t you,” Keegan teased. “It isn’t like we have a sign saying we are together, is it?”
“Good point, blondie.” Garth waggled his eyebrows. “We should make one.”
“What are you talking about?”
Garth suddenly got off his chair, walked around the table and grabbed Keegan by the collar of his shirt, bringing their mouths together for a kiss. Keegan flinched at first but then relaxed as Garth slipped his tongue inside his mouth, locking their lips together. Keegan could taste the sweetness of bourbon on Garth’s taste buds, topped off with a slight hint of cigarette smoke. Garth lowered his hands, his fingers dragging like blunt claws down Keegan’s spine before resting at the seat of his arse crack. A group of people began cheering as the steamy kiss lingered past casual territory.
Just as Keegan was about to run out of air, Garth retrieved his tongue, nipping gently on Keegan’s bottom lip on the way out. Their breath mingled, faces hovering only inches apart.
Garth smiled, staring into Keegan’s eyes, “Now he should get the message.”
“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” Keegan whispered without meaning to.
Garth looked amused but before he could question Keegan about the compliment a high-pitched voice squealed in delight, “Is that who I think it is?”
Keegan lurched away from Garth’s face, spinning ‘round to see a life-ruining moment mincing towards them in yellow skinny jeans and a black top that said it won’t suck itself. Keegan wanted to run but it was too late. They had already been spotted and were trapped.
Jason smiled, waving erratically as he toddled over to their table. “Well, well, well,” Jason purred. “You two boys sure know how to put on a good show.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The movie was okay. Not great but okay, Matt thought. Okay, if he were being honest, he hadn’t paid all that much attention to the young woman alone in her house being stalked by a menacing intruder. Matt’s attention had been lost in the moment of being wrapped up in the safety of Damon’s arms, snuggled against his mate’s bare chest.
They were halfway through the movie when Matt suddenly felt Damon’s hand slip from being perched on his hip across to his stomach. Instead of just resting it there, Damon’s hand disappeared under the hem of the t-shirt. Matt squirmed from the ticklish feel of Damon’s fingers twiddling around his tummy.
“Sorry,” Damon said. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. It just tickles.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Damon’s hand stilled. “Or can I keep doing it?”
Matt swallowed hard. The inbuilt part of him that loathed being rude or saying no to people kicked in. “I don’t mind.”
Damon kissed the back of his head. “Thank you.” He started stroking in circles around Matt’s belly button. “I like your stomach. It feels nice. Not too soft b
ut not too hard either.”
“Thanks,” Matt whispered, bewildered by the compliment as much as the scene unfolding above his waist. He flicked his eyes back to the television set. He was torn between watching the movie and wanting to keep an eye on Damon’s shifting hand. After a couple minutes Damon’s palm started gliding higher, clawing his fingers over Matt’s chest. The size and roughness of Damon’s palm was odd at first, not slender and petite like Karina’s hands had been. She had been the last person to touch Matt this way. The more Damon rubbed, the more it felt like any lingering traces of her love were being wiped away.
Damon’s lips slipped a light groan. He wriggled, pressing harder into Matt’s back as his fingers kept traversing Matt’s torso, creating a sandpapery sound as they dragged across the dark hair on his chest.
What are you doing?
Matt wondered if he should sit up and tell Damon to stop messing around. This wasn’t funny. Was it?
“Fuck you have a hairy chest, Matty.” Damon chuckled.
Matt let out a nervous cough. “Ha. Just a little.”
Damon raised his leg and hooked it over the top of Matt’s, entwining their bodies together even more so. The restricting manoeuvre only reinforced that Damon was the alpha male in this interaction; his biceps oozed strength and his athletic legs exuded power.
With his lower body pinned down and Damon’s hot hand roaming under his shirt, Matt knew any notion that this was some jovial couch-cuddle was misguided. The line of friendship was beginning to blur as Damon’s frisky fingers drew over his skin, writing a steamy story.
Damon’s hand began to recede, resting at the waistline of the jeans Matt had on. Very delicately his fingertips slipped beneath the waistband and scratched gently against the tip of Matt’s wiry pubes.
A shudder rippled through Matt’s body. He held his breath like he was about to go under water.
Damon’s body was burning with heat, his lips slipped out a faint groan as he started to grind his crotch against Matt’s arse, revealing a questionable firmness. Matt released his trapped breath when he realised the firmness he felt was an erection.
He’s fucking hard!
The room felt like it was spinning, hurling around like a time warp that was taking them back to 1997. Matt opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a muted croak.
Damon nuzzled into his neck, groaning hungrily, kissing his way up. He began tracing the outer rim of Matt’s ear with his tongue, sinking his teeth into his earlobe. His hand began to fiddle with the zipper on Matt’s jeans, ripping it down to grant himself access. He dug his hand in the open space and grabbed hold.
“Damon…” Matt said in a voice as brittle as an autumn leaf.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“Being nice to my mate.” Damon breathed deeply, his fingers tickling Matt’s balls through the borrowed boxers. “Don’t you want me to be nice to you, Matty?”
A frazzled panic surged through Matt’s body, stabbing his abdomen and tightening his chest. His tongue dried up, rendering him speechless.
“Let me make you feel good.” Damon kissed his neck again. “Go on, babe,” he dropped in a breathy whisper.
Babe. A magical word in Matt’s world. A word that made him melt like butter in a pan. All apprehension from what Damon was doing was exterminated. He didn’t want to fight off such romantic affection. He may not have considered a physical encounter with Damon in all this time but now all these forgotten feelings were flooding his veins, buzzing his crotch and heart simultaneously. His dick twitching to life did not go unnoticed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Damon groped him. “Fuck I have missed this.” His sexy voice dripped inside Matt’s ear. He reached inside Matt’s underwear and grabbed hold of his stiffening cock.
Matt gasped. He squirmed and pushed his back deeper into Damon’s chest.
Damon pulled Matt’s cock out from the pesky underwear. He rest his head on Matt’s shoulder and glanced down at the manhood seized between his furled fingers. “I wish I had a cock as big as this,” he murmured, stroking the complimented tool.
“From what I can remember, you’re plenty big enough.” Matt craned his neck around and found Damon’s lips waiting for him. They kissed deeply, swapping spit and feelings. Matt poured groans into Damon’s mouth as his cock grew rock hard in his best mate’s grip.
Once Matt was fully erect Damon pulled away from the kiss and let go of his meat. He tugged Matt’s pants down impatiently, exposing his pale behind. Damon’s voice seeped a low grumble as he ran his index finger through Matt’s freshly-showered crack. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said in a way that was void of asking.
Matt wasn’t sure if he were ready for this. He hadn’t been fucked ever since Damon broke him in all those years ago. For twenty years now, his arse had been dick free. He knew that if Damon put his cock inside him it would be like the first time all over again; a thick blunt knife capable of making him bleed. But he didn’t want to deny someone who seemed so intent on being his lover. The fleshly want radiating from Damon’s heaving body was electric, and it wasn’t a want you deny. Such want was rare and Matt knew not to ignore it. How could he? He bit his tongue and shot his fear in the face, refusing to roll away.
Damon’s finger removed itself from Matt’s rift.
Plip, plip, plip
Damon spat into the palm of his hand, brewing his saliva into lube. He placed his wet fingers to Matt’s arsehole, lubing him up for his impending arrival. After three more rounds of spit being applied Damon rolled Matt forward—just a little—to have the angle he wanted. He placed the tip of his bare cock to Matt’s hole. “Are you ready? Damon asked.
“Shouldn’t we use a condom,” Matt said. He had been waiting for Damon to dig into a pocket and present a wrapped rubber for them to use. It appeared Damon had other ideas.
“I can grab one if you want.” Damon kissed his shoulder. “But I would love to fill you up, babe. Please?”
Babe!
That magic word quelled the inner voice of sensible reason. Matt didn’t even put up a fight. His pathetic need to impress had taken over. He grabbed Damon’s hand and laced their fingers together, giving it a kiss. Giving his full permission.
Damon wasted no time. He pushed ahead, breaching the entrance of Matt’s hole.
“Ough, fuck!” Matt clenched his jaw. He breathed fast and erratically. His eyes stung shut.
Damon pecked his neck, soothing him with pacifying kisses. “I’ll go easy, babe. Promise.” He squeezed Matt’s hand as he continued to push his way inside, ever so slowly, gaining hard-fought inch after hard-fought inch. Matt couldn’t stop groaning from the hurt but he didn’t want Damon to stop either. He wanted his mate inside him; he needed to show Damon that he cared enough to put up with this initial pain.
“Fuck yeah,” Damon finally grunted, expressing his pride at being all the way in.
“Fuck. I forgot how good this feels,” Matt lied through gritted teeth.
“Does it really? You sound more like I’m hurting you,” Damon said with concern.
“It hurts… but it’s a good hurt.”
“Are you sure? I don’t wanna break you.”
“You won’t break me,” Matt said. “I want your breakfast of champions.”
“Okay.” Damon chuckled. “Breakfast of champions coming right up.” He squeezed Matt’s hand and started to fuck him. His voice whimpered softly as he maintained a steady and tender tempo. “I swear your tighter than last time.”
“Then best you go harder,” Matt encouraged. He knew Damon was holding back from fucking the way he really wanted to. Matt knew from experience that his mate could thrash his burning hole.
“Are you serious? You want me to go harder?”
“I want you to cum,” Matt said. He kissed Damon’s arm. “I want you to have fun.”
“I am having fun, babe.” Damon stroked his bristly cheek. “I always have fun when I am wit
h you.” He tugged on Matt’s hair. “But if you want me to cum then I better go harder and give you this breakfast of champions.”
Matt erupted with a moan as Damon did exactly what he said. Go harder.
Damon propelled himself forward, pounding his cock in heavy thrusts, burning Matt’s hole whilst smashing him open. Apparently age hadn’t diminished his mate’s appetite for rough pleasure. It had only heightened it.
Matt’s head bobbed around spilling noise out of his open mouth like an upturned bottle. He rode the wave of jabs, grateful for what felt like an honour. He could smell Damon’s tangy breath puffing over him, whisking over his face like smoke. “Fuck me, babe,” he spluttered, egging his mate on. Through half-lidded eyes the room appeared fuzzy and vast while his rock star fucked his arse like planets crashing into dust.
Damon’s dick’s strategic twists and gyrating penetration were testimony to a man with more sex experience than the last time they’d been together. Their laced fingers slipped apart and Damon grabbed hold of Matt’s pubes, tugging on them like he was picking weeds. Just when Matt thought things were running at full volume, Damon let go of his pubes and grabbed hold of his cock instead, squeezing, shifting gears. Suddenly his best mate was fucking like a war machine, blasting heavier and harder than before, hitting spots buried so deep they were being unearthed for the very first time.
Damon’s light whimpers were replaced with beastly groans mingled with the thumping of his pelvis crashing into Matt’s arse. The sweat from his naked chest began dampening Matt’s back. The feeling of being one was intoxicating and the perfect remedy to overcome this price of pain. Damon was deep inside him, feeding him every solid inch he had. He could feel Damon’s muscles tightening, his feet digging into his ankles.
The finish line was in sight…
“I’m getting close, babe. I’m getting real fucking close.” Damon fired one huge thrust, impaling Matt’s hole with passionate force as he collapsed atop of him. “Ohhh fuck!” he yelped.