by Willa Okati
Give him someone to share the fruit with, and he’d be even happier.
Dylan paused long enough to flick a finger gently at Alex’s chin. “Hey, there. Be patient, Alex. All good things in time.”
“Is that a fact?” Alex reached for a snack dish and plucked out a cashew. He popped it into his mouth, savoring the good salty taste. “What does a man have to do to get the best stuff of all?”
“Trade secret,” Dylan replied. “Although you’re getting pretty close to making me bend my rules.”
“We couldn’t have that, now could we?”
“It’s not sporting.”
“And we have to play fair.”
“Fuck Wimbledon rules,” Alex said. Catching Dylan by the back of his large head and threading his fingers through the man’s tumbling curls, he pulled the bartender down for another kiss. Dylan made a surprised noise against his mouth, but Alex was nothing if not persistent. He cocked his head at an angle that invited invasion of his mouth, and Dylan surely didn’t say no.
The tables turned with delicious ease. Even though Alex held Dylan, Dylan was definitely the one in charge as their mouths remained fused together. He nibbled at Alex’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, nipping, and then soothing the sting with his tongue. Alex reveled in the touch, wanting to roll and rumble like a satisfied cat. He’d wondered what it would take for the big man to lose his control.
Looked like he was on the right track to finding out.
Dylan released him with a final suckle on Alex’s upper lip. “You know,” he said outright, “I’m going to be in all kinds of trouble for this. Management doesn’t really go for their employees fraternizing with the customers.”
“Damn right!” one patron called out. Others whooped, whistled, and catcalled.
“Hey!” shouted the big bruiser who had allowed Alex to cut the line into the bar. “You forget all about me?”
Alex pivoted to wink at his would-be suitor, who was more than a little pissed. Ooh, better mend this bridge before I jump off it. “Another time, big guy, another time,” he said blithely over the man's protests. “Now, now, none of that. You just keep me in mind. Okay,” he said, looking back at Dylan, “what about this fraternization? Isn’t a good bartender supposed to laugh, dance, and put on a show while he’s pouring out the drinks?” Alex said suggestively. “What’s wrong with a little improvisation?”
“Even a sweet temptation like you isn’t enough for me to risk getting fired. Working for Amour Magique is the sweetest gig I’ve had in over a decade, and I’m not taking any chances.”
“I’ll just have to work harder on making you want to take a chance.”
“Shut up, and drink your boilermaker. I do have other customers waiting on me.”
“Think they enjoyed the free show?”
“In Amour Magique? I know they did.” Dylan pressed his finger to Alex’s lips. “Think you can keep those pretty lips shut while I do my job?”
More encouragement from their very own peanut gallery egged the showman in Alex on. Alex threw them a wink, then turned back to the long, tall draft of bartender he was putting his stamp of ownership on. He nipped at the man’s finger. It tasted of lemons and margarita salt. Not a bad combination, all things considered.
Dylan jerked his hand back, swearing with a laugh. “Lesson learned. Never underestimate you. Just sit here and behave until I come back.”
“You will come back.” Alex made it a statement, not a question.
“Of course I will. You’re a bona fide customer, aren’t you? Doesn’t matter if your own bill is marked ‘Paid in Full’ regardless of how much you drink. I’m still here to serve.” Dylan tugged at a lock of Alex’s hair, flashed him a dazzling grin, and headed off to the far end of the bar where men were squeezed against one another, eager for another drink.
Alex watched Dylan go with a mental growl of satisfaction. He could feel his inner sex kitten sharpening its claws against the other man’s long, strong legs that were topped by the most perfect, rounded ass cheeks he’d seen in years. He really hated to see the man leave but, ooh, how he loved to watch him move.
The sports coverage on that big-screen TV couldn’t compare with Dylan. Alex focused wholly on the bartender, watching him in action. Dylan was a one-man band, the way he worked. Seemingly without effort, he pulled taps and took bills, keeping track of everyone from what they wanted to what they owed. The muscles in Dylan’s back played visibly even under his white shirt, making Alex want to trace them with his fingers one by one.
Preferably while naked, from a position beneath the man ...
Oh, yes, he was the one Alex planned on going home with. His place or Dylan’s, he didn’t care. But if he had his way ‑‑ and he almost always did ‑‑ there would be a bartender in bed with him that night.
Guess he had to hand it to Liam, after all; the gently crazy little queer had done Alex a favor by pushing him out of the nest. Not that he’d have minded staying there and playing a few more games, but he’d gone, and look where he’d ended up.
Yum.
With the crush finally thinned out to a handful of contented drinkers, Dylan ambled back down the length of the bar toward Alex. He shook his head as he approached. “You do know you’re irresistible, don’t you?”
“I try my hardest.”
“You could have any man in this room, but you pounce on me like I’m Tweety Bird and you’re Sylvester,” Dylan teased.
“Not exactly. Sylvester never failed to lose the prize.” Alex lowered his eyelids. “I always win.”
“You’re that sure of yourself?”
“I’m sure of you.” Alex inched closer, undid another button on his own shirt, creating just enough of a gap for the edge of one flat nipple to peek out. To his pleasure, Dylan’s eyes were drawn right to the spot, as if there were an “X” marking his chest.
A muscle jumped in the man’s jaw. “So you’ve seen me in action. You know what I do. Let’s talk about you.”
“Little ol’ me?”
“I thought you said not to call you little.”
“Big ol’ me?”
“That’s more like the man I’m getting to know and appreciate. Spill. What keeps a man like you in fine clothes and good whiskey? I have a feeling we’re going to become really well acquainted, and I’d like a little more information about you than your name.”
Alex quirked an eyebrow.
“So I’m old-fashioned.” Dylan settled in, crossing his arms. “We’ll start simple. What do you do for a living?”
“Oh, you don’t really want to hear about ...”
“Hey, fair is fair.” Dylan reached for one of Alex’s hands and turned it over in his own. Alex made a small noise of pleasure at the feel of those working man’s calluses against his skin. “Soft and white. You’re not the blue-collar type, I take it.”
“I like any kind of collar, blue or white. And I do work with my hands.” Alex rolled his eyes. “Laugh if you will, but these days I’m a valet.”
Dylan gave him a disbelieving stare. Then he cracked up.
“Choosing a man’s socks is no small task, especially when they cost more than I make in a week, and they have to match his tailored suit just so.”
“It must be drudgery.”
“Sweetheart, if you think a drunk can be obnoxious, you’ve never seen a fat cat who’s just discovered you laid out the wrong tie.”
“I like that,” Dylan said, momentarily confusing Alex.
“Like what?”
“You calling me ‘sweetheart.’ It’s nice. Makes me think there’s actually something going thump-thump underneath all that spun sex on a stick.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“Wherever you like. In a bed, up against a wall, in an alley, behind the bar ...” Alex teased with an arch look.
“That’s a pretty tempting offer you’re laying out on the table. But what about me? You seem to think we’ve got
a done deal. I don’t get a say in this?”
“Oh, you can talk all you want. I’d rather have you screaming my name, though.”
“So much for polite conversation.”
“There’s no sense in wasting time when we could be doing something so much more fun.” Alex took another taste of his beverage. “You mix a fine drink. I wonder what else you do well. I’ve already seen how good you are with your hands. Makes a man think about how else you might use them to touch ... rub ... caress ... grip ...”
“Oh, yeah. No small talk with you. It’s all about the sex, and it’s right now, isn’t it?” Dylan shook his head.
Alex ducked his head in faux shyness. When he came up, it was with a wink. “How about I just cut to the chase?”
“If this is your way of dancing around a subject, I don’t think my old ticker can take you being direct.”
“We’ll see if you survive. Fix yourself a shot first. Consider it a gift of the Brotherhood. Something good and smooth, but fine. Go on, now.” Alex watched as Dylan gave him a dubious look, but obeyed, opening a bottle of aged Scotch and pouring a finger’s worth into a glass. “Chug-a-lug.”
Dylan drank. Alex could smell the smoky fumes of the alcohol, but to Dylan’s credit he barely flinched as the strong drink went down his throat. As it did, Alex admired the muscle action. Mmm, he’d bet a man like Dylan would be a natural at sucking cock. And while he himself preferred to bottom, he did love having attention lavished on his dick.
So call him selfish. Alex laughed, tossing his hair.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ll let you in on the joke later. Now that you’ve got a shot burning in your chest, come a little closer, and let me suggest a game plan.”
“More games. You like them, don’t you?”
“What’s life without a little fun? But, no, this is about point A to point B. Possibly with a side trip to points C and D and E if you’re as good as I think you’ll be.”
“Now I’m damned good at what I do, and part of my job is reading men. I’d say you are about to proposition me.” Dylan waggled his eyebrows. “Would I be right, or would I be wrong?”
“I think you’re just about where you should be.” Alex reached over the bar and curled his fingers in Dylan’s shirt, tugging the bigger man close enough to inhale his scent of beer, faint sweat, salt, the Scotch he’d drunk, and the shampoo Dylan had used before coming on shift. All man. A nice, heady bouquet. With his hand tightly fisted in the shirt, Alex leaned up to whisper in Dylan’s ear. “I know what I want. I know what you want.”
“So what do you suggest we do about it? I’m on the clock. And unless you’re willing to wait ...”
“I don’t wait.” Alex paused, breathing in more of Dylan’s scent and almost humming with satisfaction. “Take a break. Fifteen minutes.”
“You’ll be satisfied with fifteen?”
“No.”
“Then ...?”
Alex drew back and grinned, showing off his sharp white teeth. “Take two breaks.”
Dylan threw down his towel. He smiled back, appearing ferocious and playful all at once. “You’re on. We’ll see who can take whom.”
Alex chuckled. Oh, yes. Party time.
Chapter Three
From the second Dylan took Alex’s hand in his own, apparently casting aside all cares for what the management would think about this kind of “fraternizing,” Alex could feel the electric charge running through him. He might barely know this man, but he recognized a fellow spirit when he got up close and personal. He was out for all the fun he could have, and so was Dylan.
The boozehounds at the bar could just wait for their drinks. He and Dylan had business ‑‑ the serious down-and-dirty business of screwing each other blind and stupid. Hopefully, more than once.
Putting up an “on break” sign and waving away the chorus of disappointed boos from his patrons, Dylan grinned and walked with Alex to the end of the bar. A well-worn path that he navigated with grace. He disentangled their fingers when they reached a half-Dutch door, which he flipped open to let Alex in behind the counter.
The big man fumbled with a set of keys he fished out from his pocket, frowning at first one, and then another. He finally held an odd flat disc that swung on a short beaded chain. He grunted in satisfaction. “This’ll open the way to my room. You’re so ready, aren’t you?”
“I always am. Especially right now.” Alex pressed himself close against Dylan’s side. Ooh, I get to come behind the scenes. Can’t wait.
Dylan rumbled low in his throat and bumped their hips together. Alex nudged back, enjoying his bartender’s playfulness. He could still feel a little of the buzz from the seabreeze and the beer he’d had, but it only served to heighten the anticipation and pleasure.
Oh, yeah, illicit chills and thrills. The best possible kind. Alex felt like he was teasing another boy into slipping beneath the bleachers with him where no one could see. Mmm, the good old days. He shivered happily.
Walking his fingers across the small of Dylan’s back, he dipped down to pinch one ass cheek. “So we’re literally going to do this behind the bar? Not that I mind, of course. I just don’t want to get pelted with popcorn because we’re drowning out the TV.”
“Not exactly. Do you trust me?” Dylan cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at Alex. “I’ll wager you’ve been pretty accepting of everything Amour Magique has had to offer if you found your way down here. I’d say I know it for a fact, since the wrestlers didn’t faze you. And you know I’m not exactly human, don’t you?”
“Mmm.” Alex licked his lips, then chuckled. “D’uh. I’m not stupid. This place is better than Charlie’s chocolate factory. So you’re not human. I wouldn’t call my boss human, even if he has a pedigree longer than my leg.” He pressed closer. “So what might you be? Bird, bee, red herring ...?”
Dylan lowered his lips to Alex’s ear. “Do you want to talk, or do you want to fuck?”
Alex rubbed up against Dylan like a hungry cat, draping himself across those big, solid muscles. “What do you think?”
“I’m serious.” Dylan rumbled hungrily and pushed back into Alex, hip to hip. “We’re going to take a little trip, you and I. Do you trust me enough to do exactly as I say?”
“Into dominance games, are we? That’s fine as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been told I make the sweetest sub you ever saw when someone’s in the mood.” Alex widened his eyes. “Will there be floggers? Maybe paddles? Tell me you’ll at least have handcuffs.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Dylan growled. “But all in good time. I’m too old to go at it on the hard floor ‑‑”
“Oh, ancient. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“I’ll have to be careful of your aging bones. After all, you have seven whole years on me ‑‑ and we know what a difference that can make, don’t we?” Alex batted his eyelids. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
By then, as far as Alex could tell with a quick glance over his shoulder, more men were watching their personal show than the one on TV.
“Nail him!” someone shouted.
“Pound that sweet ass into the ground!”
“You know how to show a man a good time, don’t you, sugar?”
Alex preened and gave the crowd a wave. Dylan chuckled in short, growly bursts. “Would you let me finish a sentence? One of the perks Amour Magique gives its bartenders is free room and board. But the quickest way there is a shortcut through here. It’s not exactly the easiest way to fly. So, back to my question. Do you trust me?” He held out his hand.
“Aren’t you trustworthy?”
“What do you think?” Dylan stood patiently. Alex glanced him up and down, then took the massive paw that was still held out for him. The dance and crackle of electricity was just as good as it had been the first time around, making him want to moan and purr.
“Lead the way, then, Captain. Or would you rather I called you ‘sir’?”
“C
all me anything you like, sweet cheeks.”
“Oh, now, we’ve been through this. No fair nicknaming me unless I give you permission.”
“You don’t like endearments, my little honey bun?”
Alex gave Dylan a slight push. He stuck out his lower lip. “Now you’re just being mean. What if I decide I don’t want to go with you, after all?”
“Then I’ll go back to pouring drinks and you’ll have wasted all that quality time you spent flirting, not to mention you’ll be missing out on a fantastic fuck. Baby, if there’s one thing I know besides how to pour the best damn drink in this place, it’s how to make a man scream.” Dylan faced Alex and lifted his hand, thumbing Alex’s lower lip to poke it back in place. “Up to you, lover. What’s it going to be? Just remember we’re on the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
Alex considered a little more pouting, but they were on a countdown. He couldn’t risk Dylan losing his job. “All right. I’ll trust you. So, what’s the mystery about getting to your room? Do we have to click our heels three times and make a wish?”
“Not exactly. Just hold my hand ‑‑ and I mean hold it. No letting go no matter what ‑‑ and follow me. That a deal, kitten?”
“There you go again. Mmm, I think I could deal with this pet name, though.”
“You’re definitely the worst or the best sex kitten I’ve ever met.”
“And to think we’re not even in bed yet.” Alex bit lightly at Dylan’s thumb. “Do your hocus-pocus, Mr. Wizard. I promise I won’t let go. Now take us away to Never-never Land.”
Dylan grinned approvingly. He lowered his lips to Alex’s ear and whispered, “I just hope you’re as much of a cherry bomb as all the hype promises.”
“You haven’t even begun to discover the real me.”
“And am I ever looking forward to that particular joy.” Dylan squeezed Alex’s hand. “It’ll be the best quickie of our lives.” He lifted his odd-looking key and tugged Alex along to a shadowy corner of the bar. “Just remember to trust me.”
“Do I look like a doubting Thomas?”
“Okay, then. Hang on tight. Here goes nothing.”