Chapter 2
SoMa, San Francisco
When Kenji Gibson’s roommate learned he’d never visited a leather bar in his life, it was decided that his transgression needed to be corrected as soon as possible.
Since it was the first night of his two days off, Tacoma had forced him into borrowed, ill-fitting leather pants and a harness before they’d dragged ass through the city amid a rare ninety-degree evening.
The timing was clearly superb. He’d tried to convince his roommate another night might be better—but when Tacoma got something into his head, it was do or die.
Since he wasn’t in the mood to expire anytime soon, they now wended their way through the crowd at the Eagle Bar to mark the visit off Kenji’s gay bucket list. He trailed behind Tacoma, trying not to stare like a cringy tourist in his own city and community.
Well, the leather part wasn’t necessarily his, but the gay part certainly was.
The bar was smaller than what he’d been expecting, though he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.
Outside, it was pretty unassuming with its black painted facade.
Inside, it seemed pretty nice. He knew it was something of a gay landmark and had been around for decades, and he sensed the past lingering there in the walls.
Not to suggest the bar was run-down. Absolutely not.
It just felt comfortable with itself. Lived in and well loved.
A couple of muscle bears gave him the once over, their heads dipping and moving back up as he walked past. He couldn’t tell if it was interest or not.
Both covered their eyes with mirrored sunglasses.
He glanced down at his bare, near hairless chest only covered with the too-big leather harness Tacoma had lent him and wondered if he was too out of place.
Many of the men there were big boys with fur—from a light dusting to full-out wolfman.
Tacoma sidled up to the bar and waved down a bartender.
Kenji slipped beside him, scanning the setup behind it.
Professional curiosity. The main reason he’d agreed to go was to check the place out as a potential job opportunity, not for the cruising Tacoma had in mind.
The bartenders behind the bar were jacked and gorgeous, muscle daddies in their own right.
Kenji’s slim, smooth body definitely didn’t fit the brand.
I can be a double diversity hire. Wasian and a twink.
Kenji chuckled. Tacoma glanced over, frowning a bit.
“What’s so funny?” Tacoma asked at full volume, shoving a drink into Kenji’s hand.
“Nothing,” Kenji said, his voice raised over the noise as he looked at the drink, no idea what his roommate had ordered him. He was a bartender and couldn’t figure it out. He took a sip and winced. It was sweet as hell and not something he’d ever order for himself.
“Good, huh?” Tacoma asked. He took a sip and sighed. “I love these.”
Kenji nodded and smiled. He scanned the crowd and turned back to Tacoma, who claimed to be somewhat of a regular there. “Is it always this busy?”
“Usually. If not busier.”
The bartenders must make great tips. Maybe I should apply.
“See anyone who interests you?”
Beads of sweat rolled down the inside of Kenji’s leather pants.
If there was someone there of interest, he’d be terrified to get naked with them.
A glue formed by the baby powder Tacoma had coated his legs in and the swamp in full effect from crotch to ankle might make it impossible to get the leathers off, even if the pants were a bit big for his skinny body.
A beefy stranger walked up to Tacoma and wrapped both arms around him.
“Tack! How are you, babe?”
“Great, and you?” Tacoma said with a wide grin.
The sudden tilt of his shoulders and lifting of his chin told Kenji all he needed to know. Tacoma had found a potential bedmate for the night.
“Can’t complain,” the stranger said, his gaze wandering up and down Tacoma before he glanced past and sized Kenji up.
“This is my roommate, Ken,” Tacoma said. “Ken, this is my friend, Jake.”
“Kenji,” he muttered under his breath before he smiled and reached out to shake Jake’s hand. He hated when Tacoma called him that and didn’t want it to spread.
“I think we’ve met before,” Jake said.
Kenji frowned, trying to place him.
“We passed by one another late one night,” Jake said, leaning in to be heard better. “You were coming in from work. I was bare-assed at the fridge, getting a bottle of water for Tack.”
Kenji smiled and wanted to ask, ‘which night was that?’ Considering it had happened on more than one occasion over the year and a half he’d rented a room from Tacoma, his guess was as good as any other. Since his roommate had a type—big, buff, and hairy—they all kind of looked the same to Kenji.
Instead of calling Tacoma out for the revolving door on his bedroom—he had no right to judge—he just smiled, nodded, and said, “Ah. Nice to, ah, see you again,” even though he didn’t recall the first time they’d met.
Jake wrapped a possessive arm around Tacoma and smiled down at him. “That was a wild night, wasn’t it?”
Tacoma stared up at Jake, giving his million-dollar smile, and leaned in a little closer. “It was. I never got that encore you promised me, you know?”
“I can rectify that,” Jake said, wagging his thick, caterpillar eyebrows.
Tacoma chuckled, looking so at ease that it bothered Kenji for some reason. Why couldn’t he be more like that when a hot guy looked his way?
“Tonight?” Tacoma asked.
“Oh yeah,” Jake growled. He leaned in and captured Tacoma’s lips, their tongues warring.
Kenji turned his attention away, feeling every bit the third wheel. He searched the unfamiliar crowd, looking for anything of interest except the two men making out beside him. After a few seconds, his gaze landed on a man seated alone near the rear of the bar.
Though it was hard to be sure in the dimly lit bar, he sensed the man was staring at him. Kenji’s body tensed, and he stood a bit taller, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. His breath caught, an electric pulse zipping through his body.
He couldn’t look away. He was trapped, unable to break eye contact, even if he’d wanted to.
An unusual glow glimmered in the depths of the man’s eyes, likely reflected from the colored lights overhead, yet that didn’t take away the strange sensation washing through Kenji. Strange wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He is looking at me, right? I mean, I’m not exactly in that guy’s league.
Kenji peeked around, fearful he was staring at someone nearby, but didn’t see who else it could be immediately around him. When he turned back, the corners of the stranger’s lips curled up with a hint of a smile.
He was a bit older. Maybe mid-to-late thirties. His hair and beard looked dark—it was hard to tell without more light—but there were threads of paler color here and there. Gray possibly? Kenji smiled to himself. Salt-and-pepper daddies were hot as fuck in his personal opinion.
He was wearing almost the same outfit Kenji wore, but the difference was he had the body to pull it off.
His chest was all muscle, with a heavy dusting of dark hairs.
If he could see farther down, he’d hazard a guess there was a six-pack, too.
The harness looked good on him, not hanging oddly as Kenji’s borrowed one was.
“I’ll catch you later,” Tacoma said, pulling Kenji’s attention back.
“Wait… what?”
He stood there, jaw slack, and watched Jake pull Tacoma through the crowd of men. Tacoma gave him a wave and soon disappeared from view.
Seriously? We’ve been here less than ten minutes and he’s already ditching me?
Kenji had suspected Tacoma would vanish before the end of the night and he’d been fine with that. He understood who and what his roommate was, plus his departure would’ve given Kenji the perfect excuse to return home for his planned Netflix and self-chilling.
Only, he hadn’t expected that departure to happen so quickly.
Nor had he expected to lock eyes with a gorgeous daddy who possibly appeared interested.
Kenji’s escape plan had just appeared, but for once, he didn’t want to take it.
He also didn’t want to stand there alone, looking pathetic in the middle of a bunch of strangers, either.
Lifting his drink to his lips, he took another sip, forgetting it was terrible.
Kenji’s lips puckered. He gingerly slid the mostly full cup onto a nearby abandoned high top table filled with empty bottles and cups.
Before he made his way to the bar for something better, he gave another peek toward the back. The air was knocked from his lungs. His stranger was gone.
Shit.
Kenji searched the crowd but saw no signs of him.
After a couple of minutes of awkwardly looking around—which was always a laugh riot with his short stature and inability to see over heads—he had two options.
Go order another drink and stay for a little while, in case his sexy stranger was still lurking around, or call it a night.
As the seconds ticked by, the latter sadly seemed the only choice left to make.
It’s not like a guy like that would’ve been interested in me anyway. He was model hot. I’m model not.
Before he could leave, a beer appeared inches from his face.
Kenji’s gaze traveled up the well-muscled arm it was attached to and found his dark-haired, salt-and-pepper daddy standing beside him, grinning.
Correction. His dark-haired, salt-and-pepper giant.
Kenji was only five-eight, so a lot of men were taller than him. Many towered over him. This guy was well past towering. At best guess, he had near a foot on Kenji.
The scent of fine leather, musk, and, if his nose didn’t fail him, a hint of Prada’s Luna Rossa Ocean cologne encircled him like a warm cloud. Kenji drew in a breath, nearly moaning from the combination of that and fine ass man.
The man bent from his great height, his lips near Kenji’s ear.