Balance (Oakley’s Crew #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

ARCHIE

I love the tavern, and I love Friday nights at the tavern. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I work for the best landscaping company in the state, but there’s just something about clocking out on Friday, heading home for a shower, and showing up here that puts a big grin on my face.

I tip my chin toward Mae, who is tending the bar like she always is, and give her my best smile. The woman is the seventy-two-year-old owner, and she shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. “Archie! I was starting to worry about you, sweetie!”

I chuckle and take a seat at the bar, nodding to a few other people I know. Hell, I know almost everyone here, actually, and that’s what’s so nice about small towns like Hayes, Kansas.

“Aw, you know I’d never miss a Friday night with you.” I wink at her, and she shakes her head, passing over a tall beer in a mug, just how I like it.

“You’re an hour later than usual.”

“Yeah.” I take a sip and smile—damn, that’s good beer. “Had a job that went over a bit, but it was worth it.”

“Oh yeah?” She seems genuinely interested, and she probably is. Mae is like everyone’s grandmother around here. A sweet woman who never actually had kids or grandkids herself—this bar is her life—so she sort of just adopted us all. I’ve been coming here since junior high, although I got a soda back then instead of a beer, but still, it’s always been a place where I was welcome.

Considering my own parents kicked me out when they found out I was gay, it makes this place all that more special. Mae was the first person I told about my parents kicking me out and why. She looked murderous at first, and I thought for sure she was going to kick me out of the bar, but turns out, she was just pissed off at my parents. She made it very clear I would always be welcome in her bar.

This place is where I gathered the courage to tell my best friend, Walker Murphy, that I was gay and that I needed a place to stay. I smile, thinking about the memory. Walker had some choice names for my parents, told me he was also gay, and that he’d loved to give me a place to stay.

I, of course, had to turn it into an awkward situation because I was uncomfortable with the whole nice conversation, but he just punched me in the arm, told me to shut up, and that was that. I’ve never seen Walker that way, and he’s never seen me that way either. We’re best friends, through and through.

But the guy is turning into a total fuddy duddy, wanting to be home after work, curled up on his couch, probably with a book, and in bed by nine. So, despite me trying my best to get him to come out after finishing the job, he wasn’t having it.

I tell Mae all about the job in one of the fancy, posh parts of town, and she listens intently, even as Jackson Owens, another member of Oakley’s Crew, comes in and sits down next to me, adding his own stories from today.

But a while later, after other friends join and Mae is busy, I sort of zone out in my own little world—that is until the door opens and a man walks in who makes me question everything I stand for. It sounds dramatic, I know, but time stands still. A full shiver goes through my body, and I can’t stop the feeling overtaking me—like my life is about to change forever.

I’m not sappy. Not at all. I think love is real—for some people. I think it’s great that people want to settle down and get married and all that shit, but it’s not me. I don’t believe there’s a one for me, I think there are many. Many men I want in my bed—well, their bed, actually, because it’s one of my rules—I never bring them home.

Home means they can get comfortable and stay as long as they like, long after the cum has cooled and the ecstasy has faded. I don’t do that because I don’t want the awkwardness of having to tell them to get out.

It’s just easier to go to their place so I can kiss them on the cheek and politely leave. I don’t waste a minute. And when this perfect stranger walks over to the end of the bar, I walk over to him and sit on the stool to his left, flagging down Mae. “What are you having?”

Please play for my team . I’m not normally this bold—I mean, I have confidence, don’t get me wrong. Some may even call me cocky, but I know where I live, and I know the world isn’t always as kind as Mae and Walker. Small-town USA may be getting a little better here and there, but it can still be dangerous for gay people or anyone people around here consider different . I’ve been lucky as hell, finding a home in this tavern and with Oakley’s Crew being owned by two men who are married to each other and mostly employing LBGTQIA+ humans.

But this guy is a total stranger. I’ve never seen him before, and despite that instant little spark that hit when his eyes met mine as he walked through the door, he could be a total prick for all I know. He’s tall, dark, and handsome though. With dark, curly hair trimmed fairly short but enough to show off a slight curl. With emerald eyes that are truly stunning and a slight dusting of facial hair of his sharp jaw, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

He grins at me, a real smile that doesn’t take up his whole face but does light up those emerald eyes. “Whiskey.” His voice is smooth and sure, and his full lips are still tilted in a grin.

Oh yeah. We’re going to have some fun tonight.

I order a whiskey from Mae and grab one more beer, but I’m hoping I won’t even have a chance to drink it. My body is on high alert, and I want nothing more than to steal this stranger away for one night.

“I’m Archie,” I say after thanking Mae for the drinks and sliding the whiskey over to the handsome stranger.

He takes a sip from the glass, and my eyes lock on those lips as they cover the rim. His eyes meet mine as he lowers the glass. “Cane.”

“Religious parents?” I don’t know why the hell I asked that. I should say let’s get the hell out of here and I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember that’s your ridiculous name.

His eyes darken slightly, and I want to kick my own ass. “Yeah.” He takes another drink. “No brother to name Able though.”

Great job, Archie. He’s totally gonna drop to his knees right here in the tavern with this sexy talk you’ve started. “You want to get out of here and not talk?”

Hey, no one ever accused me of being subtle.

He nearly chokes on his next drink of whiskey, but recovers quickly and smiles at me, shaking his head. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Hell no.” I stand up, leave enough money on the counter to cover our bill and leave Mae a decent tip, and reach my hand out to him, holding my breath. He stares at me for a moment but puts me out of my misery and takes my hand, letting me pull him up and out the door, not wasting time.

No one around here will be surprised I’m hooking up with someone I don’t know. Mae’s isn’t a gay bar or anything, but there’s a rainbow flag on the window, and she makes it known that everyone is welcome. So plenty of people from around here with all types of sexualities come to hook up.

And hook up, I do. I don’t see it as a bad thing. I’m not really looking for love or anything. There’s plenty of time for that. Right now, I’m just having a good time, and I’m careful not to lead anyone on.

When we walk outside, I can’t take it anymore and drag his body to mine, my lips crashing against his, and I get my first taste.

And what a taste it is. I groan when he opens his mouth for me, allowing my tongue to sweep inside and tangle with his. His hands go to my hair, his fingers tugging on my red strands.

He leans back against the brick of the building, and my hands roam over his sides, our cocks brushing against each other through our jeans. Fuck. I could come right here, just like this—sucking on his tongue and grinding, but I don’t want that.

I want to take my time, taking him apart. “Please tell me you live close by,” I pant against his lips and dive in for another taste of his sweet mouth.

He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling against mine with frantic breaths, his hands still in my hair. “I live two hours away.”

“Shit,” I curse, letting my forehead rest against his. I could bring him back to my house... I don’t ever do that, but I can’t be done kissing this mouth yet, and I can’t wait two fucking hours either.

“I have a hotel room.” His beautiful mouth kicks up in an almost shy grin.

“Hell yeah.” I grab his hand and start walking toward the only hotel in town—which is actually a motel. Hell, I’m just hoping he meant a room in this town.

He doesn’t object and in fact leads me to his room, grabbing a key card out of his wallet, and letting us in, where I’m swept up by him again, our mouths crashing together as the door clicks closed behind us.

I rip his shirt off over his head, noting that his body is just as large and built as mine, if not more so. I wonder what he does for a living—guaranteed it’s manual labor—but I don’t ask things like that.

We aren’t here to talk and get to know each other. He pulls my shirt off over my head, and his eyes are glued to my chest and stomach, lazily watching as he drags his fingers over my belly. I don’t have a six-pack anymore, but landscaping gives me enough exercise to be firm, and he seems to appreciate it as he licks his lips and then dives for my mouth again.

I kiss him until I’m breathless, undoing the button of his jeans and being careful as I drag the zipper down. “Tell me what you want,” I say against his lips, looking down to see the red, wet tip of his cock peeking out from his briefs. I groan and find his lips again, kissing him hard and desperately.

“Anything,” he says against my mouth. “Everything. I can go both ways.”

I groan again, biting on his bottom lip. “Me too.” I kiss down over the dusting of stubble on his jaw and toward his neck. “But I really want to be inside you tonight. Do you want that?”

I pull back enough to look into his eyes, and he nods his head, biting on his bottom lip, but he doesn’t look scared. “Yes.”

That’s all I need to hear, and really, I have to stop talking. Fighting the urge to ask him about the last time someone was inside him and you know, what his favorite color and season are.

Because Jesus Christ, I want to do that, and that is just so not me.

This is ridiculous. No more talking and no more thinking.

I drop to my knees and push his jeans down along with his briefs, letting his hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. I groan, my hands dragging over his firm stomach, over the sparse dark hair covering his pecs and the trail from his belly button to the patch of dark hair surrounding his cock. He kicks off his shoes, jeans, and briefs before I slowly remove each of his socks and let my hands drag over his thighs.

He stares down at me, a look of awe crossing over his features. My heart is thundering in my chest. It’s never been like this before.

I should go. Make up some excuse, but I can’t seem to force myself to my feet. Instead, I grasp the base of his thick cock and tease the tip with my mouth, moaning softly when a burst of precum hits my tongue.

“Fuck, of course you taste good.”

I feel his hand brushing through my hair and look up, seeing the look of bliss on his face.

I take my time, tasting him. Teasing his cock and testing the veins that run along the thick shaft with my tongue. Dragging the tip over each one and reveling in the deep groans of pleasure coming from him. I relax my throat and take him all the way, gagging a little when it hits the back but keeping it under control.

He curses, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Too good. I need you.”

I want to take my time with him. I want to tell him we have time, and I want him to come down my throat, but I can’t do that. We don’t have time. I’ve already spent too much time with him as it is.

I reluctantly pull his cock from my mouth, teasing the slit with my tongue and closing my eyes as I suck, gaining more of his taste. I stand up and kiss him hard, letting him taste himself before removing the rest of my clothes and guiding him toward the bed.

I grab the lube and condom from my wallet and then rejoin him. “How do you want me?” he asks, his skin glistening with sweat and flushed red. Fuck.

I have to grab the base of my cock with my hand to stave off coming right then. He looks wrecked already, and I’m not faring much better. “Like this,” I say, climbing over his body and pushing him down onto his back, my body blanketing his. I kiss him hard and make my way down his body again.

I just need to prep him and fuck him. Then leave. I can do that, but I don’t. I take my time, turning him into a boneless, whimpering mess. Kissing every part of his body and spreading his legs, planting his feet on the bed and plundering his tight hole with my tongue.

I don’t waste any time eating him out, sucking and tonguing his rim, then probing him with my tongue. His fingers grip my hair hard, and he babbles something I can’t quite make out, panting and begging for it.

I lick around his hole, leaving it wet and sloppy, ready for me. I add lube to my fingers and pull my mouth away to kiss his inner thigh as I press a finger inside. He’s tight but moves against my finger, fucking himself on it. I add another and more lube before he’s begging me again to get inside him.

I pull my fingers out and watch his open hole close and lick my lips. “I could fuck you with my tongue all night.” I stare at his opening until he lets out a quiet laugh.

“As much as I want that,”—his hand reaches out and wraps around my hard shaft—“I really need this inside me now.”

I can’t really argue with that, and if he touches me anymore, I’m going to blow. I remove his hand and quickly put the condom on, unable to stop staring down at him. He really is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

This really isn’t good.

I decide to flip him over on his stomach because I can’t stop staring at him. He goes willingly, presenting that perfect ass in the air and leaning down on his elbows. I grab both his firm, full cheeks with my hands and spread him apart, staring at his hole, which is still wet from my mouth and the lube.

I don’t waste any more time and line my cock up with his hole, but my hand drags over his back, marveling in the way his muscles flex, and then I smooth it over his ass. “You really are perfect,” I say hoarsely.

He starts to turn around, probably to ask me what the hell my problem is, but before he does, I slam into him, slower than I actually wanted to, but I don’t know how long it’s been for him, and I don’t want to hurt him.

He groans, his back arching as he takes me. I pull back a little and push in more on the next thrust. “Yes. Like that,” he says, pushing back against me as we find our rhythm.

It’s effortless. We fall into the act easily. Every thrust is met with a roll of his hips, and I’m already going crazy with the need to come.

But I also want to look into those eyes of his. I need to see the desire there. How badly does he want this? Anywhere as much as I do?

It’s all I can take before I pull out, making him whimper, and then flip him back over before pushing into him again. He leans up and kisses me hard until I’m breathless and nearly a boneless pile of goo.

I pull back, and when I see that lust burning in his eyes and the chords in his neck pulled tight, then feel the splash of his cum between our bodies, that’s when I let go.

I come deep inside him, cursing the stupid condom and rut into him over and over until I’m fully fucked out. I lie on top of him for far too long before I get rid of the condom and then fall onto my back next to him, my eyes fluttering closed.

I need to leave. Make up some excuse and go.

But it’s no use. I can’t do it. My eyes stay closed, and my breathing evens out as I slip off to dream land. It’s fine. I’ll sleep for a little bit, and then I’ll get out of here with nothing more than a memory.

Except when I wake up hours later, I’m alone in the room. The bag that was by the door when we got here is gone.

He left me first.