Violating Man Code
VIOLATING MAN CODE
“Sk?l!”
I clinked a glass with Amanda and Patrick in a boisterous salute. It wasn’t enough to pay homage to Mimi’s lineage—we had to do it with flair. I chugged the beer, managing halfway before coming up for air. Amanda, of course, drained hers and slammed the pint glass on the bar top.
“Gah,” she gasped. “I don’t need a reason, but was she really into the mythology thing?”
I laughed. “Not even a little.”
A Tuesday night at Spectrum meant terrible music, half-priced beer, and a DJ testing his latest country-techno album. The only saving grace was the drag queens rehearsing for their weekend shows. It didn’t matter that the club had a dozen patrons—they performed like it was the Super Bowl halftime show. Knowing them, they probably broke out the same moves at the grocery store, too.
“So…” Amanda spun on her stool, poking me in the shoulder. “We just broke the law and gave her a Viking funeral as a prank?”
My grandmother never said no to an adventure. It didn’t matter how mundane—she’d turn the most boring activity into a lively fantasy. She hated sweeping the house but loved herding “dust bunnies” before they attacked. Even grocery shopping became a mission to prepare for the apocalypse. No one had a more radical outlook on life.
“Not a prank,” I said. “Another adventure.”
“She sounds like a hell of a woman,” Patrick said. Without asking, he refilled Amanda’s glass and slid it in front of her.
“We’re going to get into so much trouble this summer.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You can cause all the trouble you want. I have to go through eighty-two years of stuff. It’s going to take me forever.”
“I’ll help.” Amanda’s tone said otherwise.She'd make the experience less daunting, but her “help” would definitely make cleaning the house take twice as long. “Stop whatever you’re thinking, mister. I’ll behave.”
“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”
Mabel leaned on the bar, giving Amanda a knowing look. Tonight, she sported blue eyeshadow and a starburst of diamonds at the corners of her eyes. “Girl, I know trouble when I see it. If it’s got a pixie cut and an eyebrow piercing, you’re like a?— ”
“I’m not that bad!”
Patrick scoffed as he walked away. Mabel let out a snort. Amanda’s reputation at Spectrum was no secret. If a cute woman walked through the door, Amanda was on the prowl. Her perfect mix of charisma and confidence was like an aphrodisiac for women. If only she used her powers for good.
“You keep telling yourself that.” I shot her a wink.
Patrick handed Mabel a martini as blue as her eyeshadow. She knew how to make a statement, and it wasn’t just the sequined dress with the plunging neckline showing everything but nipples—mostly.
“Darling, you keep rocking those women’s worlds. This one, however…” She put a hand on my cheek, her nail dragging down until it poked beneath my chin. She forced me to meet her gaze. “If you weren’t blind, you’d see there’s a rugged plate of scrumptious that’s been checking you out.”
“Really?”
I tried turning, but she pushed my face back toward the bar. “Sweet cheeks, do you have no game?” No. Amanda stole it years ago. “Do you need Mabel to teach you how to get a man? I offer courses.”
“No,” I said. “Well… maybe.”
Mabel licked her lips, ending in a devilish smile. “Slow turn, honey.”
I turned casually, pretending to keep my focus on Mabel. Her dress couldn’t have been tighter without bursting, and those heels doubled as weapons. She might have been the fiercest drag queen in the land. Maybe I should reconsider her course.
My foot caught on the barstool, and I nearly toppled face-first. I grabbed the counter before busting my nose. Hopping back to my feet, I straightened out my shirt. I was about to comment that nobody saw, but both Mabel's and Amanda’s eyes were wide in disbelief. Jon Olsen and graceful never belonged in the same sentence.
After making a scene, I might as well steal a glance while mounting my stool. “Damn,” I whispered.
When I turned back, Mabel’s tongue stretched out of the corner of her mouth. Did she want to devour him or devour him? I liked my men thick, and this fine gentleman wore a t-shirt that hugged his biceps and showed a chest that stretched for miles. Muscles were nice—to a degree. I didn’t want to cuddle with rock-hard abs. I needed a little beef and plenty of squish. A man who could throw me against the wall and then make for a good pillow.
Mabel adjusted her stance, angling so I could fake looking at her while stealing glances at my mystery man.
“Patrick. Martini. Dirty. Very dirty. Put it on Jon’s bill.”
Money well spent. The mystery man held a pint glass, taking slow sips. I couldn’t make out his midsection, but he promised to be the perfect man. Brawn, beard, and belly. His beard wasn’t long, brown with hints of burgundy, but I bet it would tickle in all the right places. I’d put it to work.
“Shit.” Eye contact. I nearly dropped my beer. If I made any more of a scene, the queens would throw me out for stealing the show .
The man’s eyes caught mine and lingered a second too long. Was he smirking? Great. Now, I was the awkward guy who couldn’t stop staring. I wanted to look away, but my body refused to cooperate.
“Does he really not have game?”
Amanda punched me in the shoulder. “There’s a good chance I could get your boyfriend’s number before you.”
“You’re both mean.”
Amanda and I had a pact—no hard feelings when a pretty thing caught our attention. We arrived together but rarely left in the same car. While I had no problem dancing with sexy men, I could never seal the deal. If I was lucky, I got a phone number that led to an awkward first date. Then I'd hope for a second and wind up getting ghosted. Maybe I needed Mabel’s course. Beginner level.
The man flashed a smile before taking another swig of beer. His eyes turned to me again, and whatever mockery was coming from Amanda and Mabel vanished. He had the right amount of swagger, and those eyes knew I’d been stealing glances. When he dropped the glass, the smirk stuck. I wanted to stroke… more than his beard.
When he winked, my cheeks burned. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t aiming it at Patrick. Nope. That stare was meant for me. What now? Casually walk over and hope I didn’t trip over my feet? If people were on the dance floor, I’d shimmy my way out, rip off my shirt, and bounce back and forth, hoping he’d join.
Something about him looked familiar. I tried to remember if I’d seen him at the club before—or maybe somewhere in town? I strolled down memory lane, recalling every sexy man I’d ever encountered. The cashier at the grocery store. The manager at the coffee shop. The entire firefighter team near my apartment. Basically, any geeky man in a cardigan. Damn… I needed to get laid.
I could fake confidence, couldn’t I? Walk over, make a clever comment, and maybe snag his number. But then what? Another awkward date leading to another awkward goodbye? Maybe I was better off sticking with the fantasy—men on the Romance Channel never ghosted you.
Maybe another night. I smiled, making sure he saw before I turned around. Tonight, I’d have a few drinks with friends. Amanda would drop me off at my apartment, and then I’d pack my bags. I could commute from Firefly back to my apartment, but it didn’t make sense when I could work out of Mimi’s house. It’d be easier to sort through her belongings, and if I was lucky, it wouldn’t take as long as I feared.
Empty.
Clean.
Sell.
It'd be emotionally draining, and then back to my usual boring life.
“Okay, that was my last beer.” I’d said that three or four times already. This time, I meant it. Maybe. I dashed down the hallway, fearful I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom without a wet spot on my jeans.
Barreling into the bathroom, I froze. Even intoxicated, the unspoken rules of the man code kicked in. He stood at one of the two urinals. Every bit of his thick, delicious, curvy… hold that lustful thought. I needed to pee. I turned to the stall to see an “Out of Order” sign hanging on the door. Two spots. In any other space, I’d wait patiently for him to finish before taking position. In a gay club, the rules went out the window.
I saddled up next to him, eyes forward. I fumbled with the button on my jeans, my desperation growing. The zipper dropped, and a moment later, I let out an audible “Ahhh.” With the music muffled through the walls, I didn’t realize just how loud I was. I’d be embarrassed, except for the liquid courage coursing through my veins.
“That good, huh?”
Did he talk to me? That violated at least three rules of the man code. I kept my eyes forward, unsure of what to do next. Wait… we were in a gay bar. Short of reaching over and giving his package a shake, we were safe. I don’t know if I’d thank or blame Amanda, but I stole a quick peek over the divider. Well, damn.
“So… how’s your night?”
Did he catch me looking? Wait, did he just look over? There was far too much sexual tension in this bathroom. There was also too much beer for a rational inner monologue.
“Been good,” I said. After all the talk of adventure today, I felt obligated to take a chance. Who knows, maybe this could be the start of an awkward friendship where we’d laugh about how we first met. Okay, muster my inner Amanda and try not to make a fool of myself. “Caught this cute guy checking me out.”
“Really? How cute?”
I tested my luck. I glanced over, just as interested in the possibility of his shirt hiking up to reveal a fuzzy belly as I was in getting a look at his cock. Both were impressive. I stiffened, making it impossible to finish.
“At least an eight, maybe a nine.”
“It’s thick, but hardly eight.”
“Uh… I meant…”
“I’m messing with you.” I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I wanted to ask if the bartender had a ruler and I could prove him wrong. Did my mystery man intentionally flirt? “You’re pretty damned cute yourself.”
I fought with my penis, tucking it inside my briefs and zipping up. We flushed at the same time and walked over to the sinks. As we washed our hands, we kept alternating quick looks in the mirror. He definitely looked familiar. Something was off—maybe the facial hair? Oh no, was he somebody I made out with once upon a time on the dance floor and forgot his name?
The moment had reached electric. “Do I?—”
His hands shot up, and I flinched, preparing for a sucker punch. He cupped my cheeks as he pressed his lips against mine. Oh… ohhh. I didn’t stop him. His beard rubbed against my goatee. Between that and the alcohol, I almost gi ggled. No, no giggling while Hottie McHotterson made out with me.
There were good kissers, and then there were good kissers. My mysterious man was the latter. With the right amount of pressure and his tongue grazing my lip, I opened my mouth, giving him an open invite. The smell of bourbon on his breath and the cedar of his cologne were enough to make me melt.
He pushed forward until he had me pinned against the wall. When he started pulling away, I held his bottom lip between my teeth, refusing to end the kiss.
“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” he whispered.
Years? I could barely remember what I had for breakfast.
On the best of days, I’m not great at picking up subtle hints. Without Mabel, I would’ve drunk my beer and never noticed this gorgeous man and his… did his breath smell of bourbon, or did his beard? Either way, I wanted to get drunk inhaling the scent of this man. He pulled back with a smirk on his face. I almost missed the casual glance down. No… he couldn’t be interested… here?
“In case you missed it. I am ready, willing, and enthusiastically interested in putting my hand in your pants.”
Who said asking for consent couldn’t be sexy? How did I reply? If I was in my right mind, I’d have given him a sexy come hither look and leaned back on the sink. Would it be too forward if I bent over and dropped my pants? I really needed to ask around and figure out the answers before I needed them.
He stepped closer, his belly pressing against mine. With another step, he had me pressed against the wall, and I’d have let him do whatever he wanted. Hopefully, a hand in my pants was a euphemism for ravishing me until I begged him to stop.
“Yes.” Direct and lacking grace. Mabel and Amanda were right. I had zero game. Thankfully, mystery man didn’t seem to mind.
His hand reached for the button on my jeans. Snap. Zip. They dropped halfway down my thighs. His hand ran over my package before traveling along my belly. He lifted my shirt, smiling at what he discovered. Not nearly as hairy as him, but I did fairly well amongst the bears. He traveled north, and for a moment, I thought he was going to pull me in for another kiss.
Click. He reached past me and locked the bathroom door.
“Not where I imagined, but I can’t wait any longer.” He imagined getting me naked? I didn’t think any man had ever said he found me hot enough to risk getting caught. If I wasn’t stiff before, I strained against the front of my briefs. He checked me up and down, his expression suggesting that, at any moment, he’d devour me.
Feast away!
His hand slid along my sides, rounding my stomach, careful as he entered tickle territory. My friend admired a chubby man and knew exactly where to let his fingertips drag and where to back off. He reached my waistband, his hand casually touching my package. There was no way he couldn’t tell where I wanted this to go. If the excitement in my pants didn’t give it away, the big goofy grin did.
He kissed my cheek, gentle pecks following my jaw until he reached my ear. I gasped as he bit my earlobe. My hips pressed forward against his hand, causing a moan. Trailing down my neck, he switched between kissing and dragging the flat of his tongue against my neck. I could have melted then and there. I’m sure half the excitement came from the buzz of too many beers and a sexy man hitting on me.
“Make me come.”
It had been months since I had the time to go on a date and weeks since I had seen another naked. He had presented the opportunity, and I wouldn’t miss it by being bashful. His hand slipped inside my underwear, fingers studying the head, fingers sliding down the shaft until they circled the base.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
He kissed his way up my neck, returning to my ear as he jerked back and forth. Enhanced by the taboo, he did the perfect job of stroking the length of my cock. I wasn’t his first, not with the way he squeezed the base, causing a wet spot in my briefs. At any moment, if he picked up his tempo, I’d come.
“Come for me.” It wasn’t a request. As much as I wanted it to last for the rest of the night, it was only a matter of time before somebody banged on the door. He sped up, his fingers rubbing the sensitive spot just beneath the head. I didn’t hold back .
My knees threatened to buckle. I chewed my lip, but it did little to quiet the moan growing in the back of my throat. I’m sure it felt the same as jamming scissors into an electrical outlet. It hit like a surge of electricity and I tightened my grip around his shoulders to keep from falling. I wanted to kiss him, but as the muscles tightened to the point of cramping, I had to keep from toppling. When I came, my underwear turned wet.
“Feels amazing,” I hissed. My cock turned sensitive, and he knew to loosen his grip before pulling away. I didn’t release him, still not trusting my legs. “When can we do that again?”
Instead of answering, he brought his hand to his mouth, lapping at the splash of cum in his hand. There’s hot, and then there’s a beautiful, thick, rugged man who refuses to break eye contact while swallowing my cum hot. My friend had left the first far behind. To prove his point, he sucked his finger.
“Cruel,” I whispered.
“Tasty,” he said.
He stood, the back of his hand wiping his mouth. First round done; now I only needed a minute before we started the next. I kissed him, tasting the cum on his lips… my cum. Damn, there was something incredibly sexy about this beautiful man swallowing me without question. If he wanted another load, I’d start stroking now.
He kissed the tip of my nose before resting his forehead against mine. A pounding on the door jolted me from my happy place. I damned near pounded back and told them the bathroom had a leaky pipe that needed fixing.
“Maybe someday I could return the favor?” Even with the techno music thumping outside, we remained in our peaceful bubble.
“Are you asking for my number?” Caught. He didn’t wait for a reply. “Phone?”
As he texted himself from my phone, I continued trying to place his face. Maybe he worked at the bank? I could swear I knew him, but a younger, clean-shaven version. It’d nag at me until I woke up from a dream, most likely about him playing with my cock. His phone dinged, confirming he hadn’t given me a fake number.
“Look forward to chatting.” Chatting or making out like teenagers? Wherever the night took us. He gave me another quick peck before he hiked up my pants. Like a true gentleman, he tucked my cock into my jeans and buttoned me up. With a zip, our trashy love affair had ended.
He flicked the lock and pulled open the door. Another patron glanced from him to me and back again. I waited for the snide comments, but he shuffled between us. He let out a long sigh. “Next time, use your back seat like normal sluts.”
It went on the list… that and a hundred other locations I wanted to bang… Dammit. I didn’t even know mystery man’s name. If I were going to feel slutty, I’d do it with pride. I straightened my back and widened my stance. I hope they could all smell the bourbon from his beard .
“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” I told the man. “You never know what goes on in these bathrooms.”