Secretly Dating the Lionman

by Sue Brown

  Then Bennett wrapped his hand around Cris’s cock and slowly jacked him, and the feeling was so deep that Cris almost raised up on his toes to go with it.

  “Do the same to me,” Bennett begged, and Cris pushed down Bennett’s briefs because he needed more room to hold the thick shaft.

  Cris rested against the wall, and Bennett pressed against him as they slowly tugged each other to climax. They kissed too, their soft murmurs of pleasure captured between heated kisses. Bennett was a skilled kisser, and he eagerly explored Cris’s mouth with his tongue. But as they drove each other to orgasm, the kisses became more of a panting against mouths, the groans louder, words incoherent. Bennett slid his free hand around the back of Cris’s neck and held him tighter while Cris jacked Bennett’s dick faster and felt the sticky precome around the ring of his fingers. He relished Bennett’s groan against his mouth as his thigh muscles started to shake. He wanted them to come together, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. Then Bennett thrust up through his fingers, yelled his completion, and hot, sticky fluid covered Bennett’s hand. Cris’s orgasm was a heartbeat later in the lax channel that was Bennett’s grip.

  Bennett rested against him for long moments and then took a step back. He looked at the mess in his hand and laughed. “We’ve got to clean up.”

  Cris was still coasting the afterglow of an orgasm and took a moment to catch up. “Hmm.” Then his brain clicked into place. “Wait here.” He pushed off the wall, went back to the desk, and returned with a large industrial-size roll of tissue paper. He handed a couple of sheets to Bennett. “Use this first. The bathroom’s just down the hall.”

  Bennett took the tissue and wiped his hands. Cris did the same and bent down to mop the floor between them.

  Bennett laughed as he rubbed at the hair on his belly. “I really need that shower now. Maybe the coffee and photos will have to wait until another day?”

  Cris nodded regretfully, but Bennett was right. His mind was blown, even after a simple hand job. It wasn’t the time to plan another painting and take photos. He also had to admit there was nothing simple about that hand job. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Which he did, via the bathroom, where they attempted to clean up a little better. With a grunt of disgust, Bennett threw the paper towel in the trashcan. “I’m leaving before I make my clothes even wetter.”

  Cris agreed with him, gave up on the cleanup, and walked Bennett to the huge door that led outside. They stood facing each other, and Cris sought for something to say. “Thank you. That was….”

  “Unexpected?” Bennett suggested.

  “Amazing,” Cris said.

  “And that.” Bennett leaned forward as though he had every intention of kissing Cris, but then his expression changed. “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  “I left my laundry at your place.”

  Cris grinned. “Now you have an excuse to come visit me again.”

  From the conflicted expression on Bennett’s face as he left, the idea both terrified and delighted him.

  Chapter 8

  THE BACK door to Forbidden Nightz was locked, as usual. It was too early for the club to be open for customers, and the doorbell was a tinny, useless affair that the manager kept meaning to deal with, but somehow never did. Cris leaned on the button, knowing it would take a long time to attract the manager’s attention. He was about to start banging on the door when he heard heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs, and finally the door flung open.

  Marlon, the manager, scowled at him. He was a short, stocky man dressed in a too-tight T-shirt and saggy jeans. An ex-stripper, Marlon was tubby around the middle, and his once-thick head of blond hair had thinned on top into a comb-over. “Cris? What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Friday. I work on Friday, remember?” Cris said.

  Marlon shook his head. “That’s not right.”

  He thundered back up the stairs, and Cris followed. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he let the door swing shut behind him. They headed into the office, where Marlon stabbed at the keyboard on the messy desk. The screen sprang into life, and Cris waited while Marlon brought up the roster.

  Marlon pointed to the green blob that represented Fridays on the roster. “Oh yeah, see? Ray’s doing tonight. And the new guy, Olly. I swapped you over to Saturday. I told you last week.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Cris said, gripping so tightly on to his bag that he dug his nails in his palm. “If you had, I’d have told you I can’t do another Saturday. Friday is my night. It’s always been my night. Can’t Olly do Saturday?”

  Marlon shook his head. “I’m training him. I need to be around, so it has to be Friday, not Saturday. It’s a big party tomorrow night, and we need Lionman. You know I wouldn’t book you in if I didn’t think you could handle them.”

  “That’s not the point. You keep changing my days.” Cris was angry. He was sick and tired of being fucked around.

  “A couple of times. Jeez.” From the way Marlon was huffing, you’d have thought he was the one being screwed over.

  “Come on, Marlon, this is the fourth time you’ve changed the rosters and not told me. Enough is enough.”

  Marlon’s face hardened. “I’m the manager, and you’ll do what I tell you. If I say you’re working Saturdays, then you’re working Saturdays.”

  Cris straightened up and returned the scowl with one of his own. “I thought I was your star act. The Lionman. Lionman picks his own hours. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  Marlon shrugged. “That was then. You’re older now. New kids like Olly are coming in.”

  Cris gritted his teeth. Olly was barely wet behind the ears. He could dance, but he knew nothing about wooing a crowd.

  “I’m twenty-five, not fifty-five.” It was mean of Cris, but the age jab was deliberate. Marlon would be fifty-five next year.

  Judging by Marlon’s angry expression, it struck home. “Take it or leave it, kid. You’re a stripper, not a headliner.”

  Cris stared at him in disbelief, because he was the headliner. “If I leave it?”

  “Clear your locker out and don’t bother coming back.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  What the hell? Cris had gone from golden balls to donkey balls in the space of a week?

  “I’ll get my stuff from the locker,” he muttered.

  Marlon looked as shocked as Cris felt, but he just nodded. Cris turned to leave, only to have his path blocked by a young black man.

  “Olly.”

  “Hey, Lionman.” Olly saluted him. “I thought you were on tomorrow.”

  Cris gave him a tight smile. “Not now, kiddo. See you around.”

  He pushed past the bewildered young man and headed to the dressing room where they kept the lockers. Technically they were for everyone, but some of the longer-standing dancers had claimed them as their own. He fumbled with the padlock until the numbers were in the right combination and finally managed to open it. He put the padlock in his bag and shoved the contents of the locker—mainly costumes and toiletries—on top.

  “Cris?” Olly seemed uncertain of his reception.

  Cris smiled at him, trying to be reassuring. “It’s okay, Olly. Really.”

  Olly didn’t smile back. “It’s not, though, is it? Marlon says he’s fired you.”

  He would say that, wouldn’t he? Asshole. “Yeah, kind of. Maybe it’s time I moved on and allowed fresh blood in.”

  “But you’re Lionman. You’re the headline act.” Olly sounded shocked.

  “There’s always time for a change.” Cris zippered up the bag. “Listen to what everyone tells you, and you’ll be a great act.”

  “But I was learning from you.”

  Cris hadn’t even realized Olly had been watching him. “I gotta go. Look after yourself, Olly. You’ll do fine.” He heaved the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

  He patted Olly’s back a
nd walked out. As Cris ran down the stairs, he heard Olly call after him, but he ignored him, slammed his hand on the door and pushing through the second he heard the lock click.

  The steady downfall of cold rain quickly soaked through Cris’s jacket, and he called an Uber. He gave the address of Cowboys and Angels, knowing there was a good chance Bennett would be there. Bennett had said that’s where he’d be as Cris was working. Cris snorted. Supposed to be working. Now all he could think of through the white noise in his head was, get to Bennett and everything would be okay.

  It was happy hour at Cowboys and Angels, and the place was heaving. Not seeing Bennett and definitely not up to facing a large crowd, Cris stood in the doorway. He was on the point of leaving when someone pushed him inside from behind.

  “Hurry up, man, it’s freezing out here.”

  Cris stumbled but recovered his balance as he glared at the man. “Watch it,” he snapped.

  The guy, a tall Latino with beautiful eyes—yes, Cris noticed that, even as he glared at him—scowled back. Then he was hailed by someone else and veered off in their direction. Cris huffed and headed to the bar, where he waited for Dan to finish with the customer in front.

  Dan studied him closely. “Hey, you look like crap.”

  “Thanks,” Cris said with a wry smile. “Is Bennett or Mikey here?”

  “Not yet. Weren’t you supposed to be working tonight?”

  “Not according to my ex-manager.”

  Of course Dan picked the wording up immediately. “Ex?”

  “Marlon fired me. I walked out. Take your pick.”

  Dan looked at Ariel, who was chatting to friends at one end of the bar. “Hey, minion. Can you take over for a moment? Got a crisis here.”

  “I’m not a crisis,” Cris protested as Ariel came over.

  Dan ignored him. “Just gonna take Cris up to the apartment. If Bennett comes in, send him up.”

  “I’m supposed to be done for the day,” she said.

  “I’ll be fifteen minutes. Then you’ll be finished.”

  “That’s what you said two hours ago,” Ariel pointed out, but she didn’t seem too annoyed.

  “You should’ve gone when you had the chance.”

  Ariel flipped him off, but she smiled at the next customer. “What can I get you?”

  Dan pointed a finger at the stairs to Gideon’s apartment above the bar. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Cris made his way through the throng and waited for Dan at the foot of the stairs.

  Dan opened the door and gestured to Cris to go upstairs. “Gideon’s out this evening. Some business thing. He had to dress up, and he bitched all afternoon.”

  “He won’t mind me going upstairs?” Cris asked as Dan led the way.

  Dan snorted. “It’s his apartment, not a palace. You’ll be lucky if you can find anywhere to sit.”

  Dan wasn’t kidding. The whole place was covered in clothes, and unless Gideon had started dressing in skimpy dresses, Ariel used the place as her personal closet. Cris gingerly pushed a couple of items to one side.

  “They won’t bite, dude. Anyway, you must be used to touching women’s clothing.”

  “That makes me sound like some kind of pervert,” Cris pointed out.

  “You have the job of many men’s dreams. Those guys down there would kill to have women screaming for them.”

  Cris pulled a face. “Had the job. Now I’m unemployed, and unless I find something soon, also homeless.”

  “Tell me what happened.” Dan pulled up a dining chair, swung it around, and straddled the seat. He leaned his arms against the back and waited for Cris to explain.

  “Marlon fucked up the schedule. Only he hasn’t been fucking up the schedule.”

  Dan raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “He’s got new dancers, younger guys. He wants to train them.”

  “What’s that got to do with the schedule?”

  “He thinks the club could do with fresh blood. I’m an old hand.” Cris tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone, but from the look on Dan’s face, he wasn’t very successful.

  “I’m still confused. He’s messing up the schedules while he trains new guys to replace you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “But you’re the top act.”

  “I’m twenty-five. They’re nineteen. In stripper years I’m ancient.”

  “Bullshit,” Dan said. “I’ve seen those shows. The guys are working well after twenty-five.”

  “Not according to Marlon.”

  “So he fired you?”

  “Uh, I think I walked out, but I’m not really sure. The upshot is I don’t have a job anymore.”

  “You’ve got a job here as long as you need it,” Dan said without a moment’s hesitation. “But other clubs would kill to have you. You’re the Lionman. I’ve seen you in action—kinda. You need to start asking around.”

  “Thanks,” Cris said, relieved that one worry was off his plate. “My rent’s due soon. I can pay it, but it doesn’t leave a lot to live on.”

  “Take shifts here. I’m looking for extra staff. You working here gives me a break too.”

  “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”

  “You haven’t so far. But give yourself a breather before you start looking for a new club.”

  “I could do with a break,” Cris admitted.

  “Uh… hello?”

  Cris turned to see Bennett in the doorway with a worried expression on his face. “Hey.”

  “Ariel sent me up here. Said you might be in need of a shoulder?”

  Dan got to his feet. “That’s my cue to leave. Be here tomorrow at ten. It’s a long day. Don’t wear high heels.”

  “Very funny,” Cris said sourly.

  “I thought so. Okay. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Dan vanished down the stairs, and Bennett looked confused. “What’s happened? I thought you were working tonight?”

  “To cut a long story short, I’m no longer a stripper at Forbidden Nightz. Dan has offered me a bar job here temporarily.”

  Cris expected questions. What he got was Bennett wrapping him in his arms. Cris buried his face in the crook of Bennett’s neck and inhaled the clean scent of him. Bennett stroked Cris’s hair, and Cris shuddered and relaxed into him.

  “It’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay.”

  Bennett murmured the words over and over, and after a while, Cris began to believe him. He was okay. He had a job, he had time to plan, and being in Bennett’s arms was really, really nice. They breathed in sync for a while, and it was soothing. When he raised his head, Bennett loosened his embrace just enough to allow some space between them.

  “Thanks,” Cris murmured.

  Bennett stroked gentle fingers down his cheek. “Whenever you need me.”

  Cris needed him then. He just wanted to bury his face in Bennett’s neck and stay there all evening. But he forced himself not to fall apart. “Likewise.”

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Bennett asked.

  The last thing Cris wanted to do was discuss it all over again, but he owed Bennett the truth. “Buy me a beer and a whiskey chaser, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “You can’t get too drunk. You’ve got to work tomorrow.”

  Cris pulled a face. “Thanks for reminding me. I never get up before noon on a Saturday.”

  “You poor boy.” Bennett patted Cris’s ass.

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “What gave it away?”

  “Girl in the house,” Ariel yelled up the stairs.

  Cris grinned at Bennett. “You can come up. We’re both dressed.”

  She appeared in the room, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Now if I were a different kind of girl, I’d make a smart-aleck remark about that. But I’m not, so I’ll just say get your asses downstairs. I want to change.”

  “You are the queen of smart-aleck remarks,” Bennett informed her, “but I don’t want to sc
ar my boyfriend for life, so I’ll take him downstairs.”

  Boyfriend? Cris stopped breathing. Bennett just called him his boyfriend. When did that happen?

  Unaware of Cris’s mental freak-out, Ariel rolled her eyes. “You have met your boyfriend, haven’t you? He’s had more half-naked women in his hands than most men get in a lifetime.”

  “Thanks,” Cris muttered. “Now he’s gonna think I’m easy.”

  Bennett dropped a kiss on his cheek. “No, you’re the last person I’d think that about.”

  “Get out of here before I melt from the sugary sweetness.” Ariel shooed them to the top of the stairs. “What is it about you men? All hard-core until you fall in love, and then you get all sappy.”

  Love? Who said anything about love? Cris hadn’t gotten over the boyfriend issue yet. From the freaked look on Bennett’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

  “Ariel’s always getting ahead of herself,” he murmured as he picked up his bag and started down the stairs.

  “Wait,” Bennett said.

  Cris turned to look up at him. “Yeah?”

  “The boyfriend comment—”

  “It was just a spur of the moment thing. I get it.”

  Bennett nodded, his expression uncertain.

  “I kinda like the idea at some point, though,” Cris admitted. “When you’re ready.”

  “I think…. Me too. At some point.”

  They smiled at each other, and Cris turned to go down the stairs.

  Cowboys and Angels seemed more crowded than usual. Cris headed to the bar, but Bennett grabbed his arm and steered him to the door.

  On the sidewalk Bennett said, “It’s packed in there, and I’d like to have you to myself for a while. Have you eaten?”

  Cris’s stomach rumbled in response, the sound loud in the relative quiet outside the bar.

  “I guess that’s your answer. I was gonna eat after work.”

  “I know a great Thai restaurant near where I live. Do you like Thai food?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “It’s a hole-in-the-wall place, but the food is great.” Bennett looked nervous, as though he expected to be rejected.