Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
HE’S HUNGRY.
It was Liam's first thought when Tate kissed him like a man starving, and Liam was there for it.
He’d felt Tate’s presence before he saw him and prepared to reject the guy right off. Of course, he could use a strings-free hookup, but he’d meant it when he’d said he hadn’t come to the club for that. But when he opened his eyes to find the other man close and staring, he lost his ability to speak.
Sporting a plain charcoal T-shirt and worn jeans, Tate hadn’t dressed to impress, but it worked on him. Boy, did it work on him. So did the height, shaggy, dark blond hair, deep blue eyes, and slight scowl. Combined with his general don’t-fuck-with-me vibe and impressive muscles, Tate made Liam’s stomach flutter. So much for not wanting a hookup. In his defense, it’d been a long time since he had such an instant and powerful physical reaction to a man. And if the hard-on grinding all over him was any indication, Tate wanted him too.
He tasted of beer and the faintest hint of cigarettes, which did nothing to negate his bad-boy image. The men Liam typically dated or hooked up with were from a similar walk of life, New York City twenty-somethings clambering up the ladder of success. Tate didn’t seem like the type to give a fuck about his social media presence or financial portfolio. Something about him felt exciting, daring, and different, and it woke Liam’s desire.
Tate squeezed his ass, and Liam moaned into his mouth. The guy knew how to use his tongue. Within minutes, Liam was a quivering mess of lust and need. They broke away, gasping for breath.
Tate’s dirty blond hair stuck out in all directions from Liam’s wandering hands, and his deep blue eyes had darkened to match the ocean just before a storm. Panting, they stared at each other, no longer dancing.
Liam’s cock was so hard it ached, testing the strength of his jeans zipper. He’d gone beyond the point where it could be ignored. An orgasm was a must, and soon. There was always the option of taking care of it himself, but why on earth would he go that route when he had a sexy-as-fuck man with an equally hard dick watching him with a ravenous gaze.
The tiny part of his brain that remained rational screamed that going home with a man he didn’t know in a city he didn’t know had disaster written all over it. But his brain didn’t have enough blood for a majority vote.
“Wanna take this somewhere else?” he asked, rising on his toes to reach Tate’s ear. God, yes, he loved a bigger man. He loved feeling engulfed and overpowered under the right circumstances. “I live too far to head to my place. You close?”
“No.” The word was clipped as though the thought of going to his house seemed ridiculous. “Bathroom?”
Then again, maybe he was merely as desperate as Liam.
It’d been years since he’d had a quicky in a club’s bathroom—not since his college days. With a nice apartment within walking distance from many of New York's trendiest clubs, bathroom hookups hadn’t been necessary.
You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
Nope. He was in Oklahoma, and things were different here. Was he really going to do this? Head to the bathroom in this tacky club to tug some random guy’s dick?
Tate met his gaze. The raw hunger nearly brought him to his knees right there. He pressed the heel of his hand over his cock with a hiss.
Tate raised one of those light eyebrows.
Fuck it.
He grabbed Tate’s rough hand—those calluses would do amazing things to his skin. And on his cock? They would feel unbelievable. “Let’s go.”
Together, they weaved through the throngs of clubgoers to the back hallway where four single-user bathrooms resided. A short, barrel-chested man walked out of one as Liam reached the mouth of the hallway.
“Hell yes,” Liam muttered. He tugged Tate along straight to the vacant restroom. The second Tate followed Liam into the stall, he slammed the door shut so hard it rattled the thin walls. The snick of the lock sent a shiver racing down Liam’s spine.
Crazy things were about to happen in there.
As much as he wanted to get off, the idea of driving Tate out of his mind set Liam’s blood boiling. He spun and slapped his palms to Tate’s chest, shoving the bigger man against the closed door.
Tate’s eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. “So, it’s like that, huh?”
Meeting his gaze, Liam nodded once. “Yeah.” He ripped the button on Tate’s jeans open and lowered the zipper in one smooth move.
Life had been crazy lately. Leaving his ballet company and moving from New York, where he knew he was loved and accepted, to a potentially hostile town where he didn’t have friends had his head spinning. Add to it starting a business that had the potential to fail, and Liam felt out of control. He needed to take some power back, and what better way to do that than by turning a rougher, bigger man into a needy mess?
Before he reached into Tate’s black boxer briefs, he raised an eyebrow. “Any objection to me giving you the blowjob of your life?”
Tate’s nostrils flared. “Christ, you’re not what I expected.”
Liam smirked. This wasn’t what anyone would have expected of him.
“Do your worst, Luxe.”
He slid his hand down the waistband of Tate’s underwear and wrapped his hand around the hot steel trying to escape. God, the skin was soft and sleek over all that stiffness. “Luxe?” he asked, already breathless.
Tate hissed out a curse. “Damn, your hand feels nice.” His eyes fluttered as though wanting to close, but he fought it. “The way you move, it’s elegant, graceful.” He shrugged. “Luxe.”
Liam blinked. His throat thickened. From childhood, his entire life had been spent honing those exact skills. What was a professional ballet dancer without elegance and grace? Tate's comment expanded a warm feeling in his chest. His last boyfriend hated the way Liam carried his training into his everyday movements.
Don’t be an emotional fool.
This was a down-and-dirty hookup in a damn bathroom stall, nothing more, and he’d be an idiot if he pretended it was anything else.
The man was gorgeous in a down-to-earth kind of way, not the polished type of guy Liam typically went for, but stunning, nonetheless. He had a raw magnetism about him that drew Liam in the most primal way. Whatever it was—chemistry, pheromones, or black magic— he wanted to devour this man with an instant passion he wasn’t used to. Liam wanted to tear off his clothes, shove his nose in Tate’s armpit, inhale his masculine scent, bite him, and leave teeth marks to show where he’d been.
But he’d settle for swallowing what promised to be a stellar cock and hearing Tate shout his release.
He tightened his grip, shoving aside all those pesky feelings that always caused him trouble, and smirked.
“Shit.” Tate reached for him, but he dropped to his knees out of the man’s grasp.
He’d regret kneeling on the hard floor in the morning when he couldn’t perform a simple plié, but that was tomorrow’s problem. One hard yank had Tate’s pants and boxer briefs down around his knees.
His cock sprang forward, long, hard, and mouthwateringly thick. Liam would love to spend hours worshiping all that flesh, but this was a race against the clock. Someone would come banging on that door before long, so he needed to act.
He cupped Tate’s heavy balls, drawing another of those tortured hisses from the man.
“My fucking favorite,” Tate rasped.
Good to know.
He licked the head of Tate’s cock, catching a large drop of precum before it fell to the floor, wasted. The flavors of heat and sin hit his tongue and invaded his senses. His own cock throbbed, trapped behind his jeans. He was dying to free it and tug himself to completion, but the fantasy of Tate doing it for him kept him in check.
He opened his mouth and engulfed Tate down to the root as he gave a gentle tug to his balls. Tate shouted. The sound of his palms smacking against the wall to stabilize himself made Liam smile despite his full mouth.
He cast his gaze upward to find Tate staring down at him with a near snarl on his face and fire in his eyes.
It was the hottest look anyone had ever given him.
After that, it was game on. He sucked like his damn life depended on it while playing with Tate’s balls and occasionally his taint. Wicked curses flew from Tate’s mouth over and over.
He loved the feel of Tate’s heavy cock on his tongue. Loved everything about this experience. The scent, the taste, the way with each passing second, Tate’s shouts became more unhinged and desperate. All of it made him feel powerful and sexy as hell.
Tate’s cock hit the back of his throat, and Liam swallowed once, then a second time. He’d long ago learned to dominate his gag reflex.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you can suck a cock.” Tate grabbed his hair and held him in place as he thrust forward. The ability to breathe disappeared for a few seconds, making his eyes water.
He swallowed again.
“Yes. Shit, yes. Fuck, Luxe, you’re amazing.”
Was it possible to preen with a mouth full of cock?
He sure gave it his best try.
He moved his mouth to Tate’s balls, licking over the taut sack. Tate groaned when Liam sucked one into his mouth.
“Shit, I’m not gonna last much longer.”
After a final lick, he moved back to Tate’s cock. He sucked the head hard before sliding his lips down.
“Shit! Coming.” Tate held Liam’s head and thrust once before unloading down Liam’s throat. The salty, bitty flavor coated his tongue as he swallowed every last drop.
“Fuck, too sensitive.” Tate jolted as Liam stuck with him, laving his softening cock with his tongue.
If there were a chance this would happen again, Liam would have filed that information away for the future, along with how much the guy loved ball play, but it never would, so he let it go. Fun as this was, he wouldn’t get the chance to tease Tate’s oversensitive cock after future orgasms.
When Tate stopped trembling, he hauled Liam to his feet. His head spun from lack of blood flow, but before he could catch his balance, Tate slammed their mouths together. The man wasted no time invading Liam's mouth with his tongue.
God, he loved a man who wanted to taste himself after a blowjob. Not much ranked hotter on the scale.
He ground his hips against Tate, still harder than steel and desperate for release.
“Can I return the favor?” Tate’s voice was growly after all that shouting. He nudged his thigh between Liam’s legs, pressing against his needy cock, and Liam nearly blew right there.
“No time,” he said, panting and fighting his body’s need for release. “I’m too damn close already. Just jerk me. Now!”
Tate smirked. “Someone liked sucking my cock, huh?” he asked as he worked Liam’s pants open.
“So much.” Tate’s callused hand slid into his Andrew Christians and wrapped around his cock. “Oh, fuck.” That hand was big, rough, and able to hold so much at once.
His head dropped back. Pleasure zinged through his bloodstream at warp speed.
He hadn’t even thought of lube. The first few tugs were hot and dry, but his cock leaked, and within seconds, Tate had gathered enough precum to ease the glide. The man knew just what to do. When to squeeze, when to tug, when to back off enough to have Liam whimpering with need. He was a master at his craft, and Liam reaped the benefits of his skill.
Damn, I could get used to this.
Twice? Three times a day? If Tate could be at his beck and call, ready to jack him off at a moment’s notice, Liam could die a happy man.
“You’re making a damn mess. So fucking needy,” Tate whispered in his ear. “It’s hot as fuck.”
One more tug was all it took. “Oh shit,” he whispered, digging his nails into Tate’s shoulders. His stomach contracted as his balls started to empty into Tate’s hand.
“Watch me,” Tate barked.
Liam fought to keep his heavy eyes open, and damn, it was worth the effort.
Tate’s hungry gaze captured every shudder and facial expression Liam made.
His legs felt like Jell-O. If only there were somewhere to sit besides a nasty club toilet. A bed would be great, one where they could catch a power nap and start all over again in a few hours.
Tate kissed him once, quickly and efficiently, before releasing Liam’s softening dick. With blazing eyes, he brought his hand to his mouth and cleaned each finger of Liam’s spunk with his tongue.
“Damn, that was hot,” Liam said as Tate pulled up his pants.
Liam followed suit. His briefs were wet and gross, but he was too sated to care. Much. The drive home would be uncomfortable.
Tate stared at him, and it looked like some emotion flickered in his eyes.
Was he going to ask for more? A date? Another round?
Do it. Ask me.
Liam would take either. This had been incredible.
But whatever it was disappeared with one blink, replaced by a hard mask. “Thanks, Luxe. That was epic.” Tate turned, unlocked the door, and left, practically running.
Liam frowned.
Uh, what just happened?
Sure, he’d expected this to end when it was over, but at the very least, Tate could have walked out of the bathroom instead of sprinting. Maybe held the door and let Liam walk out too.
Rolling his eyes, he jerked the door open and stepped out into the hallway. Tate was nowhere to be seen. Vanished in the time it took Liam to walk five feet out of the stall.
The amazing feeling from two seconds ago gave way to confusion and embarrassment.
This was why he didn’t do hookups. They always left him second-guessing himself and feeling used in the end, even if he’d used his partner just as thoroughly. Well, at least he’d gotten off, though it would have been nice to have said goodbye.
He might as well go home for the night. There was no way he could go out there and dance with another guy while smelling like cum and wondering about the man who’d fled the scene of their crime.
I’m too emotional for this crap.