by Brandon Witt
The man looked up at Vahin, and his eyes widened slightly. His expression was back in place in less than a heartbeat, but it was enough for Vahin to know he’d liked what he’d seen. So, not a straight guy in a wrong place. Maybe still on the down low, though. Whatever. Vahin could work with that. At least for the night.
“Nah, just beer, please.”
Vahin wasn’t sure if he’d kept his own expression under control or not, but if he hadn’t already wanted to take the man home, the guy’s voice would’ve sealed the deal. Low and warm. So deep, it was almost hard to hear.
“Easy enough. What kind?” There, see that? He managed to speak without panting or drooling.
The man shrugged. “You got Heineken or Guinness?”
“Both.”
“Cool. I’ll do a Heineken.” He held up a hand abruptly. “Actually, know what? Let’s start with one of each. In bottles. Don’t bother with a glass.”
This time Vahin didn’t control his reaction. “Double fisting, huh? Rough day?”
The man let out a snort. “You have no idea.”
“Well, I won’t waste time, then.” He managed not to look over his shoulder as he retrieved the beers. Staring at the guy wouldn’t help get in his pants. Though, if he was starting with two beers, a little staring probably wouldn’t be a deal breaker for too long.
As he popped the caps, Vahin motioned toward Alex with his chin.
The other bartender finished pouring his drink, slid it to the woman at the bar, and came. “What’s up?”
“You mind covering me for a few minutes?”
“Sure, you gotta go out?”
“No. Just might talk with someone for a bit.”
Alex’s gaze darted past Vahin. “Seriously, him? You’re calling dibs on him? I doubted I had a chance, but now I know I don’t have a shot.”
“Dude, quit staring.” Vahin grinned at Alex. “And yeah, sorry, newbie. I’m calling this one.”
Walking back toward the man, Vahin realized he was nervous. He didn’t remember the last time a man made him feel remotely close to that. He slid the bottles across the bar. “I popped the caps but placed them back on. Wasn’t sure which you’d want to drink first.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He grabbed the Guinness and glanced around again.
“First time here?” Like Vahin wouldn’t have noticed a man like this one if he’d come within a block radius of the place.
“That obvious?”
“Maybe a bit.” Vahin hesitated, not sure how far to push. “There’s always a good mix of gays and straights here, if that makes you feel better.”
The man lowered the beer and swallowed before replying. “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just different than my normal. I expected a bunch of drag queens or something.”
“No, not tonight.” Maybe he wouldn’t be taking Mr. Adonis home, after all. Down low he could do; too good for fem-gays, he couldn’t. “Though, it’s too bad. We have the best drag queens anywhere.”
The man shrugged.
“Don’t like drag queens?”
He shook his head. “I don’t dislike them. Just not my thing.”
“You ever see a drag show?”
Another head shake.
“Well, you’ll need to come by on a different night. I don’t care what kind of bad day you’ve had. Five minutes with ManDonna and you’ll be laughing your ass off. Trust me.”
The man gave a partial smile. “I for sure could’ve used that tonight. I’ll have to remember to come back and see… ManDonna the next shitty day I have. So probably tomorrow.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound.
Okay, maybe not a judgmental douche bag—just virgin territory. “Work sucks, huh?” Vahin leaned forward, both to indicate interest and to highlight his shoulders.
“Yeah. It’s my new—” The man halted abruptly. “Actually the last thing I want to think about right now is work.” He took another swig of beer, his longest yet, and leveled his brown eyes on Vahin’s. He lowered the bottle and stuck out his hand. “I’m Marlon.”
Vahin accepted the shake, loving that Marlon’s hand was as massive as his own. “Nice to meet you. I’m Vahin.”
Marlon held his grip a split second too long. That brief moment told Vahin all he needed to know.
Marlon drew his hand back. “Glad I came in here this evening, Vahin.” He took a long swig of beer and finished the first bottle, his gaze never breaking contact and making it perfectly clear Vahin wasn’t the only one who had plans for them that night.
Though Vahin claimed to be versatile, he was definitely more of a top man. However, after Steven let him leave half an hour before closing, Vahin realized he might have to adjust his position on which bunk he enjoyed more. It wasn’t just Marlon’s length and girth that made it unlike any experience he’d had before, but the pure ferocity of the man’s thrusts. Like Vahin’s ass was responsible for all the evil in the world and Marlon was determined to make it pay. If he survived the pummeling, Vahin definitely wanted to experience that some more.
CHAPTER THREE
Marlon Barton
Screeching. Who the hell was screeching? They’d better be ready to be arrested for disrupting the entire universe with their abuse. When he got his hands on…. Marlon suddenly realized he couldn’t see anything; everything was dark. It took a few moments, maybe longer, to figure out his eyes were closed. Fixing that particular issue proved more challenging than usual.
The first attempt failed.
The second brought a wince and groan of pain.
Another screech.
Marlon turned toward the racket and made a third effort. He barely cracked open his eyes. The sunlight streaming in through the window had torture on its mind, but Marlon fought through it. There was murder to commit, and he’d probably need to do it with his eyes open.
After a few more painful seconds, the brightness of the window contracted to an actual image. A white-flowered tree branch swayed in the breeze. In front of that, on the windowsill, were two brownish red finches. One hopped up and down, then paused to let out another mind-splitting shriek.
Beside him, the mattress shifted, and a dark, muscled arm wrapped around his shoulders and chest. “Morning. Nothing like waking up to nature serenading you, huh? I love spring.”
The voice was low and pleasant but still caused the spike in Marlon’s brain to plunge deeper. And those little birds were actually the ones making the racket?
He stiffened, realizing the damn birds weren’t the major issue. The muscle-man arm and sleep-ridden voice were the issue.
Who the fu—
The picture finally came into focus.
Not his window, not his tree, not his noise-polluting finches. Not his bed. Not his house.
Hungover.
Strange place.
Unfamiliar arm. Sexy, sure, but still unfamiliar.
Dear Lord. He’d hooked up. He’d had a drunken hookup. The hangover wasn’t that new a thing lately, but it had been a while since one had come with a stranger’s bed.
With a groan, he shifted from his side to lie on his back. At the motion, the anonymous arm pulled away.
“You sound like you don’t feel so hot. Though, I can’t say I’m surprised, with how much you drank after round one last night.”
“Round one?”
Marlon finally made it to his back and looked toward the voice.
And holy shit. Sexy face to go with the sexy arm. Warm brown skin over chiseled features. Thick mane of short wavy curls. Dark brown eyes filled with humor. Beautiful. And familiar. Wait. That gay restaurant. The bartender.
Oh shit. He could almost remember the guy’s name.
The man flashed a brilliant white smile of perfect teeth. “Oh, I know that look well. It’s Vahin. Don’t worry, no need to pretend you remembered. Luckily even if you would’ve remembered my name, you drank enough vodka to nearly obliterate your own.”
“I, ah….” What? He what? “Um, sorry. I just… need….”
The man—Vahin—issued a little snort. “Coffee. You need coffee, and probably some carbs to soak up what’s still in your system.” He sat up and twisted to get out of the bed. “And don’t get up unless you think you can make it to the bathroom. Movement and hangovers on an empty stomach is not something I want to clean off the floor.” He stood and walked across the room before looking back. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Try to breathe.”
Though it hurt his brain to do so, Marlon lifted his head slightly to watch Vahin walk away. That view was as sexy as the front. Muscled V-shaped back tapering to a narrow waist and a perfectly sculpted ass covered in black fur. Marlon sank back into the pillow as Vahin moved out of sight.
He’d slept with that man and didn’t remember. What a waste that was. Vahin was fucking gorgeous; he even had a dimple above his left asscheek, which drove Marlon crazy.
Another screech came from the window, and Marlon turned toward the sound with a wince and a glare. If that bird started tapping on the window, there was going to be hell to pay. It was then he noticed three condom wrappers on the hardwood floor, and one used condom plastered against the baseboard.
Gross.
Well, at least they’d been safe. Remember it or not.
Oh, wait. Actually he did, kinda. The ride back to this apartment was still blurry, but an image of bending Vahin over his bed while Marlon stood behind him came floating back into a resemblance of clarity. Enough that he even remembered the animalistic groans Vahin had made as Marlon fucked him. He felt his cock shift beneath the sheets at the memory.
The smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom. Thank God. Salvation.
Slowly Marlon wedged himself up the bed to a seated position and leaned against the headboard. He let the sheet fall to his waist but grabbed one of the extra pillows and covered his lap. Silly, he supposed, but he felt a little self-conscious about Vahin coming back in to find him with a hard-on.
He glanced at the condom wrappers. There’d definitely been more than one round, like Vahin had indicated. He wished he could remember. Of course, maybe he’d messed up opening the first two wrappers, but he doubted it. He actually remembered finishing inside Vahin as he was still bent over, then pulling off the condom and tossing it. Oh, right. That explained the condom wallpaper attempt. Then asking for a drink. That’s right…. There’d been vodka, straight, and lots of it. The rest of the night faded after that.
Vodka. After endless rounds of beer. Dear God. No wonder his head hurt. Marlon knew he’d been drinking more than he should. Had for a while, but it was just part of it. You worked a hard shift, each traffic stop possibly bringing you face-to-face with the barrel of a gun, you have to take a guy down in front of his kids, you get blamed for every bad cop out there, and every scumbag who wants to make an example of you. At the end of the night, you go out with your buddies, the only other people in the world who truly get what you go through every day, and you drink. But typically it was beer for Marlon. Not vodka.
Enter Andrew. That asshole had definitely caused an upswing in Marlon’s hard liquor intake. Then, on top of it all, he’d taken away Marlon’s one release last night. No wonder Marlon had ended up in a stranger’s bed with a hangover.
Vahin walked back into the bedroom, a huge mug in his hand and a plate piled with toast in the other. The sunlight, so malevolent before, now caressed the muscled planes of Vahin’s chest and shoulders, all covered in the same dark hair as his plump ass. His large flaccid cock caught the light as he moved across the room.
Maybe waking up in a stranger’s bed wasn’t something Marlon needed to be angry with Andrew about, after all.
“Wow.” Vahin paused at the foot of the bed, staring openly. “That chest, man. I’d forgotten while I made breakfast.” He closed the distance, placed the plate of toast on the bedside table beside Marlon, and then handed him the coffee.
Marlon took the mug.
Vahin hesitated, then stretched out his hand but paused an inch or so away from Marlon’s chest. His gaze darted up to Marlon’s. “You mind?”
Marlon shook his head.
He was instantly glad of the pillow still covering his lap as Vahin smoothed his hand over his chest, then gave a slight pull on his chest hair.
“God, I love that.” Vahin moved his hand away and gave a tight shake of his head. “Sorry, you’re just… wow.” Another shake. “Okay. You drink your coffee.” He snagged a piece of toast as he stepped away and took a bite as he walked around the bed, then slid under the sheet next to Marlon, close but not touching.
Marlon sat there, unsure what to do. Part of him wanted to book it for the door. The last hookup had been a while ago, but he couldn’t remember the last time a guy had made him breakfast in bed, even if it was only toast. Not that there was anything to remember. That had never happened. The other part of him wanted to toss the coffee mug over with the condom and pounce on Vahin again, and this time remember every second of it.
“Your hangover isn’t going anywhere without the magic of caffeine.” Vahin shifted in the bed again as he spoke.
At the words, Marlon became aware once more of the killer headache. It was a testament to Vahin’s hotness level that it had dissipated for even a moment. Tentatively he took a sip of coffee and swallowed. It seemed it was going to stay down. Another sip, longer this time. Then he sighed. “Thank you. This really will help.”
“Oh, I know. I’m a bartender. I can nurse a hangover.” Vahin motioned across Marlon toward the plate. “I also put some Advil by the toast, once you get some food in your stomach. And I’ve got some vitamin waters in the fridge.” He popped his final bite of toast in his mouth.
Marlon cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re always this prepared for hungover hookups?”
Vahin shrugged, his expression darkening somewhat.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to—”
Vahin waved him off. “Drink your coffee, Marlon.” He smiled.
Had Marlon told him his name? He didn’t think so. Vahin had remembered. Maybe he hadn’t been as drunk as Marlon. Of course he didn’t have to work with Andrew, so he didn’t have an excuse.
Andrew. Shit! Marlon flinched, spilling a bit of too hot coffee on his hand, which caused him to flinch again and spill more coffee, this time on the pillow. “Oh, shit! Sorry.” Marlon made to move, to get something to clean it up, then cried out as a new spike drove into his brain.
A hand clamped over his on the coffee mug. “Whoa, slow down there, big man. Don’t spill the whole thing. You’ll burn parts of you that for sure don’t need burning.” With his free hand, Vahin removed the stained pillow from Marlon’s lap.
Marlon slowed, but glanced around for a clock. He found it on the dresser across the room—11:54.
Almost noon. Fuck! “What is today?”
Vahin didn’t let go of his grip on Marlon’s hand and the mug. “Wednesday.”
Wednesday. Marlon thought for a moment, trying to work through the fog. Wednesday. Right. Good. No wonder he’d allowed himself to drink so much the night before. He sighed, relaxing back against the headboard. “Okay, good. Wednesday. I thought… I wasn’t sure. The chief would’ve killed me for pulling a no-call, no-show. Especially with all the complaining I’ve been doing about Andrew. I—” He stopped speaking abruptly, realizing he was saying his thoughts out loud. He glanced at Vahin. “Sorry.”
Vahin grinned and released his hold on Marlon’s hand. “It’s okay. So you work for a chief? That make you a fireman or something?”
Marlon kicked himself. He never told a hookup what he did. Always too many questions. And always the same request, or at least some variation of the same request. Too late now. And the hookup was over, so what did it matter. “I’m a cop, actually.”
Vahin’s eyes grew wide. “Really?” His gaze traveled across Marlon’s exposed chest and arms. “Well, that explains the body.”
Maybe there wasn’t going to be that request. Good. “Um, have you seen your body? You’re every b
it as built as I am, and you’re a bartender.”
He shrugged. “I like to be pretty. And even if I didn’t, it helps the tips. Trust me.”
Marlon paused at Vahin calling himself pretty. He was, more than, but a person didn’t usually refer to themselves like that, at least not people you wanted to be around more than a few minutes. But there didn’t seem to be any arrogance around the words. Just a statement of fact.
Before he could think of what to say, Vahin spoke again, the look in his eyes heating. “Cop, huh? Wish I would’ve known that last night. Could’ve found uses for your baton, not that you didn’t do a perfect job with the one God gave ya. But the handcuffs could’ve been fun.”
And there it was, the handcuff request. Every time. The baton comment, not as much. He marveled at Vahin’s bluntness. Most of the time the request was spoken tentatively, but there hadn’t even been a blush to Vahin’s cheeks or fake modesty about the sex they’d had.
Again, Marlon was speechless.
For the first time, Vahin looked hesitant. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. Just a little fantasy of mine.”
You and everyone else. Marlon took a long swig of coffee, giving himself time to think. Again he was torn. He wanted to get the hell out of there. The talking and getting-to-know-you stuff was not his gig. But there was something so alluring about Vahin. Something that made him want to stay in bed with him a few more hours, even if he did request the cliché handcuffs.
Probably the mix of hangover and Vahin’s gorgeous body.
He swallowed his coffee and lowered the mug. “Sorry, if I was… if I overstepped my boundaries last night. It’s all a bit of a blur.”
Vahin cocked his head. “You don’t see me complaining. Though, honestly, even if you had your baton, I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of that right now. I’m a little tender. You seemed to have a bit of built-up aggression.”