derek_williams
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What If Someone Sees Us?
🕑 Added 2022-11-30 22:06:08 +0000 UTCYou probably hated me in college. I was the kind of guy who wore a sharp suit, kept a tight haircut, and always acted like every deadline was the end of the world. To be honest, not much has changed.
I was climbing the corporate ladder fast. Only twenty-seven, and I was managing a team of fifteen people. My boss said it was a matter of time before I made VP of Marketing.
I’m not that easy to work with, but my assistant Marissa kicks ass and helps keep everyone happy. She knocked on my door around three o’clock with a few messages to go over. HR needed an answer on PTO scheduling for my team, I needed to review a branding plan document before the end of the day, and – she lowered her voice – Ian had called twice since lunch.
“Okay,” I said, glancing at my calendar. “If he calls again, tell him I’m gonna hit the gym after work and then I’ll swing by. Probably seven or so.”
Marissa gave an approving nod. I don’t want anyone to know about Ian, but I think she’s rooting for us.
“Now,” I said, eager to get back to business. “Let’s talk about PTO scheduling.”
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I parked my car around the corner from an old brick building, about halfway down the block. Ian’s apartment is in a cheap part of town, nowhere near the glass tower where I live. Ian had different priorities than me – I wanted people to think of me as a successful young professional, while Ian just wanted to be stumbling distance to the clubs and bars of the gay village.
I ditched my briefcase and jacket in the trunk, carefully looking around to make sure nobody has noticed me. Then I hurried around the corner and up the front steps. I buzzed apartment 3B and got let in without a word. I didn’t relax until I was inside and out of view.
I took a shuddering elevator up to the third floor. The thing took forever – I live on the 32nd floor of my building and our elevator takes less time. I spent the long minute thinking how my obituary would look. “Businessman Killed During Sordid Gay Affair”.
But I knocked on the door of apartment 3B anyhow. A muscular twunk in a pair of pink briefs answered.
“Hey Daddy,” he giggled.
He was beautiful. The kind of youthful muscle that rich men dream about having. Plastic surgeons had nothing on him – there’s something about being twenty-five and horny that’s just impossible to replicate.
“Hey Ian,” I smirked, pushing him inside. I turned and locked all three deadbolts behind us.
Ian took two steps and picked up a cocktail off his coffee table. The apartment was small but cozy, and Ian had decorated it to match his taste. It was artistic, contemporary, and a little bit vapid. He had a bluetooth speaker blasting some pop song I didn’t really care about.
“Want a cocktail?” Ian asked with a warm smile.
“Maybe later,” I said. I reached down and loosened my belt. I couldn’t take my eyes off Ian’s tight ass. He knew exactly what I wanted, and I knew exactly how to take it.
“Fine,” Ian said dramatically, rolling his eyes and setting his cocktail on the table. He gave me a sexy little grin and stepped forward to unzip my slacks.
Sixty seconds later I was pounding his ass in bed, pushing my lubed cock into his hole and making him scream out with every thrust. I wished he wouldn’t make so much noise, but Ian’s always been like that.
My cock was a perfect match for his sexy hole. The two of us met up on a hookup app about six months ago, and ever since then I’d been making regular trips to the bad part of town. I loved watching the way his square jaw hung open, every twitch of my cock sending him into another wave of ecstasy.
We were both dripping with sweat. I’d skipped cardio, knowing full well that I’d burn off more calories by rolling around with Ian than I would power walking on a treadmill. There wasn’t much technique with Ian – I just needed to show up and fuck like a beast. He didn’t need roses or dinners or romance – lucky for him, cause that’s not my style.
“I’m gonna cum,” I grunted, speaking for the first time since my pants hit the floor.
“Just a little bit longer...” Ian whimpered under me. “Please... please...”
But I was already past the point of no return. I felt my balls get tight.
“I’m gonna cum,” I grunted again. And then I was cumming, blowing my load straight into his ass. Ian was still rock hard as I started to go soft, looking up at me with desperate eyes. I reached down and grabbed his shaft, giving it a couple quick pumps – just the way he likes it.
He spilled his load all over his abs. I wiped my hand on his chest, leaving a sticky trail behind. Then I shifted my weight and landed on the bed beside him, the two of us breathing heavily and trying to calm down enough to speak.
I felt him try to take my hand, so I pulled away and wiped the sweat out of my eyes instead. I’m not the kind of guy who wants to cuddle after. Ian used to throw a little fit about that, but he finally got the message – if he wanted my cock, he had to play by my rules.
I counted to ten before I got out of bed. My slacks were tossed haphazardly over a chair. I found my boxers at the end of the bed, then slipped on my pants.
“Mmmm... how about that drink?” I asked.
“We should go down to Peacocks,” Ian said dreamily. “I know you don’t like to go out, but they make a killer Watermelon Margarita.”
Great. This bullshit again.
“Actually, I’ve gotta go,” I said, looking around for my shirt. “It’s later than I thought. I’ve got work in the morning, and I don’t have any spare clothes here.”
“You know Michael, there’s an empty drawer right there,” Ian said, pointing at the dresser. “Whenever you’re ready, it’s yours. I’d like you to stay the night sometime.”
“Stop that,” I snapped. “You’re always hassling me about the damn drawer. I like sleeping in my own bed.”
“Then invite me over sometime,” Ian said, raising an eyebrow. “You never invite me over. And you always leave right after sex. Come on... come down with me for one drink. You can go home right after.”
“Damn it Ian,” I said, shaking my head. “You know I don’t go to those places.”
“You don’t have to get pissed,” he shot back.
“Yeah, well what if someone sees me – it could seriously damage my career. Hell, it could get me fired, okay? My CEO is a total homophobe, and yeah, Marissa covers for me on the phone calls, but...” I trailed off. I realized I was starting to shout. “Look,” I said, lowering my voice and trying again. “If someone saw me at a gay bar, I’d get fired for sure.”
“Then maybe you need to get fired,” Ian said pointedly. “They’re buying your integrity Michael. It’s not okay.”
“I can’t just get fired,” I argued. “I’ve got responsibilities and goals and shit that I care about, okay? I can’t just be some sexed-up pink party boy.”
And then I fucked up big.
“You’re not gonna be young and hot forever you know,” I spat.
“Whoa,” Ian said, sitting up. “I’ve got a job,” he said defensively. “I’ve got goals and responsibilities and yeah, maybe I’m not Mr. Senior Manager of Whatever, but I’ve got a whole closet full of blue suits and a boring office job too.”
“Look, I didn’t mean –“
“Shut the fuck up Michael,” he interrupted. “Not every part of me has to be boring and responsible. Part of me can be bright fuckin’ pink, you get that? You’re allowed too Michael – but then someone might judge you for being a fag.”
I grabbed my shirt off the floor and buttons it quickly. I didn’t even bother to do up my tie – I just wadded it in my pocket.
“I’ve got to go,” I repeated. “God Ian, can’t you just enjoy what we’ve got?”
I turned and stormed out of his apartment, leaving a very pissed off twunk behind.
I should have taken the stairs – the elevator took almost a minute to reach the ground floor. I slammed the door on my way out of the building and headed for my car. I slumped behind the steering wheel – pissed off at Ian and pissed off at myself.
I spent a long time staring out into the dark. Finally it got too cold to sit there, so I revved my engine and headed for the freeway. I just wanted to watch lights go by and let my thoughts drift away.
Ian was a bright spot in my life. I was so scared. Eventually I took a random offramp and pulled into an abandoned parking lot.
“Hey... I’m sorry,” I texted Ian. “That wasn’t cool. Can I come back over so we can talk about it?”
Ian’s the kind of guy who’s attached to his phone at all times. Normally he texts back within a minute, so when five long minutes went past I called his phone.
Two rings, and then straight to voicemail. Fuck.
I pulled my car back onto the freeway and headed back worked my way back towards his apartment. My stomach sank the entire drive – if Ian wasn’t answering his phone, he had to be seriously pissed at me. I parked in the loading zone out front of his apartment and ran up the front steps, but he wasn’t answering his buzzer either.
Dammit.
I parked back in my regular space and tried to figure out a plan. Let’s say he wasn’t ignoring me. Let’s say he didn’t hate my guts. Maybe he’d decided to go and get that drink, with or without me. What the hell was that bar called again?
For the first time in my life, I searched Google Maps for ‘gay bars near me’. There were over a dozen – but I was headed to Peacocks.
I decided to walk. It was only three blocks and parking is a nightmare sometimes. Besides, I needed the time to psych myself up. What if someone saw me?
But they wouldn’t, right? Even if I saw someone from work, they’d have just as much to hide. And my boss wasn’t gonna be there – he’s such a homophobe that he’s probably never been to the gay village. Besides... if Ian was there, it was worth it. He’s the only gay guy I’ve ever actually liked hanging out with. If Ian was there, it was worth going inside.
The outside of the bar was terrifying. I stood in a mostly empty street, staring at the neon sign – a big animated peacock that opened and closed it’s rainbow tail feathers. It was like the NBC logo came out of the closet.
But if Ian was there... so I stepped inside.
I don’t know what I expected out of a gay bar on a Tuesday night. Dancing crowds of men in neon spandex? I found a dimly lit room, mostly a dance floor and a stage, but with a square bar near the back. The bartender was looking bored, over polishing a pint glass. A solitary older man sat on the far side of the bar.
Ian wasn’t in there.
“Hey, come on in,” the bartender called, waving me over to a seat.
“Uh... I was just looking for a friend,” I stuttered.
“You found one,” the bartender replied with a broad grin. “You’re carrying something heavy, why don’t you take a seat.”
I found myself taking a spot at the bar, perched on an old-fashioned barstool. What the hell, I was already there.
“So what’s the deal?” the bartender asked with a friendly smile. “Your boyfriend is fucking some other guy?”
“No, nothing like that,” I said, trying to make it sound minor in comparison. “We just had a fight, and he’s not answering his phone, and... well, he said he might come here for a drink, so I thought...”
“Got it,” the bartender nodded. “What’s his name?”
“Ian.”
“Oh yeah, I know Ian” the bartender grinned. “Wait... you’re the boyfriend? Hot in the sack, deep in the closet?”
“Yeah,” I said, giving my wryest grin. “I guess that’s me.”
“Okay,” the bartender said, searching me with his eyes. “I know what you need.”
He pulled a fancy looking glass from under the bar and started pulling down bottles from a shelf. He started measuring pours carefully and mixing up an elaborate drink.
“Now, tell me,” the bartender asked. “What are you still trapped in the closet?”
“I’m not trapped,” I protested. “I’m just –“
“You’re what... twenty-nine? I get it when nineteen year olds are still coming out, but what’s your excuse?”
“I’m twenty-seven,” I said defensively.
The bastard just kept mixing up the drink. It was a bright pink colour and frothy along the rip. The whole thing looked flamboyant as fuck.
“Sorry,” I finally said. “I’ve always been too serious – in high school I just wanted to get into college, in college I wanted a 4.0 GPA and big internships for the resume.”
“So you never hooked up or anything?” the bartender asked.
“I mean... yeah, but I never did any of that Pride stuff with them, y’know? And then I graduated, and I thought for sure I’d get a personal life for once, but work sort of ate my life. And I’ve got this boss...” I groaned. “If he finds out I’m gay, I’ll never work again."
The bartender took out a small dish of pink powder. I swear it glittered in the low lights. He took a small pinch and dusted it over the drink.
“Here you go,” he said, putting it down right in front of me. “Did you ever wish you were different?”
“Man... yeah...” I said with a slow shake of my head. “I’d give anything to just be some bro, y’know? Forget about all this stupid corporate bullshit and really live my life.”
I picked up the drink and tried to take a sip, but the bartender snatched it from my hand.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “That’s thew wrong drink for you.”
He took the cocktail and put it down in front of the old guy on the other side of the bar.
“Thanks Ethan,” the older guy smirked. He took a sip and gave a satisfied moan. “Mmm... that’s perfect.”
“Okay... that was weird,” I said.
“Sorry,” the bartender shrugged. “Here’s the deal. Sometimes... when a guy sits at my bar and he really needs a hand... I mix him up a special drink. My drinks – they can change who you are. If you’re serious about that wish, I can grant it.”
“You can?”
“Yup,” the bartender grinned, having his hand at me. “Wash away this overly serious corporate asshole Reveal the laid back bro underneath. And I know he’s in there... you wouldn’t want to be a bro unless you were already a bro... underneath it all.”
“And what about that drink?” I asked, pointing across to the pink cocktail. The old guy was drinking it slowly, savouring the taste. “What were you gonna do to me?” I asked.
“That?” the bartender laughed. “That one’s just a simple spell – turns you into a horny twink and gives you one hot night. The next morning you wake up back to normal. Some guys... that’s all they need to see the possibilities. But if you’re willing... I can make the change last forever...”
I stopped and stared at nothing for a few long seconds. A wordless thought bounced around my head.
“Okay,” I nodded. “Pour me something.”
He gave me a satisfied nod and pulled a pint glass out from under the bar. Unlike the pink cocktail, this one wasn’t elaborate. He just poured me a dark beer from the taps and sprinkled in a healthy dose of that pink powder. It dissolved in seconds and I was left sitting there with a beer.
“So I just drink this?” I asked cautiously.
“If you want to be a carefree bro,” the bartender nodded. “If you want to keep your old life... just toss a fiver on the bar and walk out the door.”
The beer tasted like a stout. Maybe notes of coffee and chocolate? Or is that just what you say about every stout?
“So this asshole boss,” the bartender said casually. “Tell me about him.”
“Well... he fired a guy for going to the Pride parade once,” I rattled off. “He wasn’t even gay, went with his wife and kid, but my boss doesn’t really see the difference. He says every gay guy is some flamboyant pervert – so obviously he had to fire the guy for it. Moral grounds or something. I can’t believe that shit’s legal.”
I drank my beer and we kept talking about my boss. The way he paid women less. The way he said really racist shit and just expected everyone to nod along. And worse... the way we all just shut our mouths and ignored it.
Eventually my glass was empty.
“So... how’s this work?” I asked. “Should I feel something weird happening?”
The bartender chuckled at me.
“Look in the mirror,” he said, motioning behind me. One wall of the dance floor was done up in mirrors and I could clearly see my reflection. Except it wasn’t my reflection anymore. At least not the one I expected.
My dress shirt and suit pants were gone. So were my wingtip shoes. I was staring back at myself, dressed only in a t-shirt and jeans, with a five o’clock shadow and a pair of black converse. A backwards ballcap topped off the loop.
“See, the thing your boss doesn’t know is that you can be gay without being GAY,” the bartender chuckled. “If you want to stop now, no big deal. You can go make up with Ian, put on a suit in the morning, and pretend like you’re straight at work.”
I looked like every bro you ever saw. And I looked comfortable at Peacocks. I never knew those things could go together.
This didn’t have to be scary.
“You know what,” I said, turning back to the bartender. “Pour me another one.”
He got a fresh pint glass and pulled another drink from the tap. Another dose of that pink glitter, dissolving into the beer.
“Cheers mate,” I said, raising my pint to the bartender. He gave me a little nod.
“So what are you gonna do about that stupid boss of yours?” he asked.
“I dunno,” I shrugged. “I mean, you gotta eat, right? I’m just glad I can kick back after work, hang out some place like this.”
“Yeah?” the bartender grinned. “We’re pretty proud of this place.”
“It’s nice to be somewhere I belong,” I said. “You know, somewhere I don’t have to hide?”
“For sure,” the bartender said, watching my drain my beer. “How’s that feel?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“Huh?” I asked, trying to puzzle out his question. “Oh yeah,” I said, holding up my empty glass and looking at it. I turned to check myself in the mirror and grinned at what I saw.
Holy shit – I had alway kept myself in shape, but I’d clearly fallen in love with the gym. He’s turned into a muscular gaybro – a body built with barbells and cable machines. I was dressed like it too – I had a black tanktop with a pink stripe across the chest, athletic fit jeans, beat up sneakers, and that same backwards ball cap. Between the muscle and the clothes, I looked like I belonged on Instagram.
“Bro, check me out!” I grinned, turning back to the bartender. I turned back at just the right time – the old guy across the bar was taking the last sip of his twink cocktail.
“Mmmm...” he moaned. It echoed in the empty bar.
I don’t know how to describe it. He... morphed? Like something out of a bad science fiction movie. One second I was staring at an old guy with a beer gut, the next I was looking at a skinny young twink with a pink tee and bleached blond hair.
He gave a contented sigh and started seriously eye fucking me.
“I think you’ve got an admirer,” the bartender laughed.
“Yeah, well... my boyfriend doesn’t need more reasons to be pissed at me,” I chuckled.
“Fair enough,” the bartender said with an amused look. “You want another beer?”
“Nah, it’s pretty late,” I said, shaking my head. “I gotta lift early.”
“Hey, how are things going with Ian,” the bartender asked. Like we hadn’t been talking about that all night.
“Maybe I fucked it up,” I sighed. "Ian and me got in a big fight cause I’m worried about my asshole boss figuring out I’m gay.”
“Why’s that Ian’s problem?” the bartender asked.
“I dunno,” I sighed again. “I guess cause he wants to go to clubs and stuff all the time... and I really don’t.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem coming here,” the bartender pointed out. I glanced around the familiar bar – that was true. I dropped by at least a couple nights a week.
“Yeah, but I’m not walking in with some dude on my arm,” I protested.
The bartender laughed.
“Do you really think homophobes make the distinction?” he asked. “Besides, how do you think it makes Ian feel?”
I hated the question. I don’t know how long I stared into nothingness, but when I came back the twink was staring at me with concern. I gave him a nod and he casually went back to admiring my biceps.
“Pour me one more beer,” I said slowly. “And add as much of that pink shit as it takes. I wanna feel good taking Ian out places. I don’t want to be afraid of all the straight bastards in the world. Gimme enough to make me proud, okay?”
The bartender grinned and poured me another pint. He sprinkled a generous dose of the powder on top – so much that it took a few seconds to dissolve.
“Hey, just how much attention do you want?” he asked.
“As much as I can get,” I laughed. “If you’re gonna go, go far, right?”
The bartender nodded and dumped a heaping spoonful of the powder into my beer.
“Here you go,” he said, sliding it over with a broad grin. “I think you’re gonna like this one.”
He glanced back at the twink. They were both watching in eager anticipation.
I grabbed the beer and drained half of it in one long chug.
“Whoa,” the bartender laughed. “Someone’s eager for the change.”
“I wanna get back to Ian’s place,” I said, shrugging my big shoulders. “I owe him an apology, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“If he even lets me in the building,” I rambled. “Bro isn’t answering his texts or his phone or anything.”
“It sounds like you need a grand gesture,” the bartender suggested. “Something to really grab his attention.”
“What?” I laughed, spreading my beefy arms wide. “This doesn’t count?”
I drained the last of my beer and slammed the glass down on the table. I tried to stand up and turn, but my legs buckled out from under me. I grabbed at the bar for support. The room was spinning under me.
“Shit bro,” I laughed in a low rumble. “You got me good and drunk, huh?”
There was a low background music playing from the speakers and I felt like they’d cranked it up to eleven. The steady thumping of a dance beat kept pounding through my head. The twink hurried over from the other side of the bar, grabbing my arm to steady me.
“You okay babe?” he lisped.
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “I think I had too much.”
“I don’t know,” the bartender grinned from behind the counter. “I think you had exactly enough.” He pointed at the mirror behind me.
I slowly turned around, using the twink and the bar for support.
“Whoa,” I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Yeah, the first beer made me a bro, and the second one muscled it up, but the last beer...
I looked like one of those bros who lives for festivals.
I was shirtless. My square pecs were on display, and lemme tell you, I already knew I liked the attention. The twink and the bartender were staring, and I wished the bar was packed – the more eyes on me, the better.
My jeans were gone, replaced with another pair of jeans that barely deserved the name. These ones were so tight they were practically tights. The fabric must have had some spandex in it, and when the lights him them just right they kinda sparkled.
My black sneakers had hot pink laces.
I realized why I was having trouble standing – I was trying to stand still. As soon as I let my ass shake to the music, suddenly everything fell into place. I let go of the bar, but the twink kept a tight hand on my bicep, just in case. I couldn’t not dance. It was automatic.
My whole body was an even tan and my hair had grown out into a shaggy surfer cut. I looked like I spent summers at the beach and winters in the tanning salon. A rainbow bandanna stood out against my skin, keeping my hair out of my eyes.
A gold chain hung down over my heavy chest, with a rainbow flag medallion hanging from it. That wasn’t the only jewelry – my wrists were covered in bracelets and wristbands, at least half a dozen on each arm. Despite the bar lighting, I was wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses.
“Whoa,” I repeated, running my hand down over a set of washboard abs.
“You look like... really hot,” the twink giggled. “Can I...?”
I took his hands and guided them over my torso, loving the excitement he gave off. The attention and the lust... it was addictive. I wanted more.
“You like that, huh?” the bartender said, leaning over and leering at me. “You like guys looking at you?”
“Yeah bro,” I grinned. “I like to advertise. And I love to play around,” I said with a wink, guiding the twinks hand down so it cupped my balls.
“Hey, don’t get too attached,” the bartender warned the twink. “He’s drunk, and he’s got a boyfriend.”
“I’m Will,” the twink said, reluctantly taking his hand off my junk.
“Mikey,” I said instinctively. I knew it was true – Michael was the name for someone boring.
“Hey,” the bartender said, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “So I got news for you bro – you’re out of the closet. No way you’ll fake being straight now. You’re gonna have to deal with that homophobe you work for.”
“Of fuck him,” I laughed easily. “If he can’t handle me, he don’t deserve me, right bro?”
“Hell yeah,” the bartender grinned. “Man, I do good work.”
“Hey Will,” I said, taking the twink’s hand off my chest. “You’re hot and all, but I gotta go make up with my boyfriend, y’know?”
The twink sighed and held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Okay,” he said. “But I got an idea for that grand gesture.”
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I was getting a little cold walking towards Ian’s place. Yeah, I shoulda worn a hoodie or whatever, but bro, I look so hot now. I need to show off, y’know?
I passed a few guys on the sidewalk and they were all giving me thirsty looks. Yeah... shirtless was the right choice. Once it’s summer again I’m totally swapping out these jeans for booty shorts.
Ian’s light was still on when I got to his place. It was barely ten o’clock – the clubs were just getting started. A steady beat thumped softly through my head and I shook my ass to the subconscious rhythm.
“Hey Ian,” I shouted from outside the window. I didn’t expect a response right away, so I picked up a few pebbles from the side of the road and pitched them up at the window. After the third pebble I saw him moving around up there, so I grabbed the boombox.
Yeah, a boombox. Maybe you’re too young to remember movies from the 90’s, but I was about to pull off an epic gesture. Lucky for me that bartender had one handy.
I pressed play and the opening bars of One Direction’s “Kiss You” flooded the neighbourhood. I hefted the boombox up over my head and my ass really got moving. A few hours ago I wouldn’t dance in a club – now I was waking up a whole street and showing off my hot body in the process.
Lucky them. It felt so good to dance.
“Michael?” I heard Ian call out the window. He was staring at me in confusion. It was dark and he was half-guessing about my identity. “What are you doing?”
“Winning you back!” I shouted up with a dopey grin plastered on my face.
Ian’s eyes got wide.
“Stay right there,” he called down.
I kept dancing to the music while Ian made his way downstairs. I guess he took the stairs – we were barely at the chorus when Ian came around this die of the building and stopped speechless. His eyes roamed over me – equal parts shocked and thirsty.
“Michael...” he finally stuttered.
“Nah bro,” I grinned, bouncing my pecs at him. “I go by Mikey now.”
“I guess you met Ethan,” Ian said with disbelief.
“Who?”
“The bartender at Peacocks?” Ian said slowly.
“Oh yeah,” I laughed. “He helped me figure out some stuff.”
I put down the boombox and held my arms wide open, doing my best to look vulnerable.
“I’m really sorry babe,” I said, shrugging my big shoulders. “I was fucked up, and I said some dumb shit, but I need you bro. Take me home.”
“The neighbours are staring,” Ian pointed out.
“Let them stare,” I grinned.
“Okay...” Ian nodded. “Come on up. Let’s talk through this.”
--------------------
I pushed Ian up against the door of his apartment and pressed my lips into his. He was fumbling in his pocket for keys, but I didn’t care. I needed to kiss him.
He finally unlocked the door with one hand and we spilled into his front room.
“Mmmm...” he said, breaking our kiss. “Lemme get my keys.”
He closed the door and I kicked off my shoes. Then we were on the couch. I was climbing on top of him, kissing his neck and smelling his sweat.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry babe,” I gasped, kissing my way down to his pecs. “I wanna go places with you. I wanna let people see us. We’re so fuckin’ sexy bro... and everyone’s gonna see.”
Ian just moaned.
“You wanna go dance now? Or get a drink somewhere?” I asked eagerly.
“Maybe later,” Ian said with a smirk. He touched my cock through my jeans, rubbing his thumb back and forth below the head. “First... let’s take this for a ride.”
I nodded eagerly and picked him up. Ian wrapped his legs around my waist as I carried him to the bed and dropped him down on the mattress. I took a second to peel off my jeans and found a neon pink thong underneath, stretched by my rock hard cock.
“Mmm... you’re so hot bro,” I said, kissing my way down Ian’s body. I tweaked his nipples as I passed – he’s crazy about that. “Yeah, you like that?” I teased, waiting a moment and then flicking my tongue over them.
I sucked his cock while I played with his hole, working it out with lube. My beard felt funny against his thighs. He seemed really into it, so I took my time down there, sucking his balls and taking deep sniffs of his bush.
Ian grabbed my shaggy hair and pulled me up roughly.
“Fuck me,” he begged. “I need your cock inside me.”
“In a minute,” I teased, flicking my tongue across his nipple again.
“Now,” he demanded.
I lifted his legs and slipped my cock into his waiting hole. He took it like a pro – I didn’t have to be gentle, but I was anyhow. I pushed my way inside slowly, loving the way his eyes unfocussed with every new thrust inside.
“Yeah babe,” I growled. “Take my cock. You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”
Ian’s stereo was playing a catchy pop song. I started fucking him to the rhythm, really matching the beat with my hips. Ian moaned and gasped – I used to just fuck hard, but now I was really paying attention to what made his toes curl.
“Hey babe, what’s this song?” I asked, letting my cock sit in his ass for a second.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously. I felt his ass grip my cock tightly.
“It’s really catchy,”I I grinned.
“Oh...” he relaxed. “I just... you always hated my music.”
“That’s gonna be different now,” I promised. Whatever, I’d get the track later – right now I just wanted to make him cum.
It took another eight minutes before he blew his load. It splattered all over my chest and neck. I’d never made him shoot that hard before.
I pulled my cock from his hoe and stripped off the condom.
“Finish on me,” Ian nodded eagerly.
“Okay babe,” I laughed, getting on my knees and holding myself over him. “You’re such a hot slut.” I started jacking my cock – it didn’t take long before I was spraying Ian with my cum too. I collapsed onto him, feeling our bodies slide against each other, lubricated by our seed and our sweat.
We rolled to the side and I held Ian close. Ten minutes, maybe more. I just wanted to feel his heartbeat against mine. The afterglow swallowed us whole.
“Damn...” Ian finally said, pushing away from me. “Ethan really outdid himself this time. Normally he just zaps guys into slutty twinks, but... is this gonna last til dawn? Or do you turn back into a tightass at midnight?”
“It’s gonna last forever,” I said with an excited grin. “That’s what I asked for.”
“Wait... you asked for this?” Ian said, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” I admitted with a shy shrug. “I’m in love with you babe. And I never knew how to say it before.”
Ian’s eye’s softened and he leaned in for another kiss. It was long and lingering, the kind of kiss you think about all week.
“Let’s stay in tonight,” Ian suggested slowly. “We’ll go out tomorrow.”
--------------------
Of course I still had to go into work the next morning. I woke up in Ian’s bed just after six. He was dozing beside me, a slight smile playing across his face as he snored.
I kissed his forehead softly and got out of bed. I guess he’s a light sleeper cause the mattress shifted when I got up and he started to stir. I hunted around for my thong and turned to find him staring up at my happily.
“I can’t believe this is forever,” Ian said softly. “I thought it was a dream.”
“No way babe,” I laughed, a little too loudly for the early morning hour. “This is for real... oh shit, I lost my shirt at Peacocks last night, didn’t I? I gotta stop by my place and get some things... that drawer’s still mine if I want it, right?”
“Yeah,” Ian smiled sleepily. “And like... there’s space in the closet and stuff.”
I blew him a kiss and walked into the kitchen, tripping on the coffee machine. Then I found my jeans by the bed and squeezed into them.
“I gotta hurry,” I said apologetically. “Sorry babe, I’ll text you later, k?”
“You better,” Ian smirked. “Take a hoodie... the shirtless thing looks great at a rave, but my neighbours are gonna wonder what’s going on in here.”
“Baby... your neighbours could hear us all night,” I grinned back.
But I stole one of his hoodies anyway. This baby blue zip up that’s baggy on him – I managed to zip it about half up my chest.
There was an old lady in the elevator. I introduced myself as Ian’s boyfriend Mikey.
--------------------
We were at the bar that night. I guess Ian must have texted all his friends, cause we were surrounded. I was squeezed into a booth, my bare torso pressed against Ian’s.
“So I show up at the office – and I’m so not wearing the dress code,” I laughed. “These jeans, and like... a really tight button down. But with like... four buttons open. My assistant had no idea what to do, so I just told her – get me five minutes with the CEO.”
I took a slow sip of my beer. No reason to hurry – everyone was paying attention to me. No pink powder either – I like the way I am.
“I go up to his office, and I just UNLOAD on him,” I chuckled. “He’s a womanizer, he’s a racist, he’s a homophobe. I give him HELL boys. And he doesn’t know what to say – like half of him wants to call security, the other half just wants to suck my cock, right?”
“Oh my god, did you?” Jared asked.
“No way bro,” I laughed loudly. “And I got so fired. So if anyone knows anyone... I’m looking. But boys, it felt so fuckin’ good,” I gushed.
Ian’s friends all laughed. Our friends all laughed.
“Tell you what,” Stefan said. “For that brave act, your drinks are on me tonight.”
“Keep your money,” Ethan said, clearing empties from the table. “Mikey, you’re on the house tonight.”
“Well then,” I grinned, handing over my empty pint glass.
“Coming right up,” he nodded. “And hey, Mikey... we’ve got a couple jobs open here.”
“Bro, I don’t know shit about bartending,” I admitted.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ethan grinned. “You know how to dance.”
--------------------
Of course I moved in with Ian. My old place was way too expensive, and I didn’t need to keep up appearances anyhow. Plus Ian’s place is close to my work – I’m stripping at Peacocks three nights a week, and I’m learning to bartend most afternoons.
Ian doesn’t mind – it cuts into our time together, but he likes coming down to hang with friends. Nothing gets him horny like seeing fifty strangers want my body.
After working for a capitalist asshole all those years, stripping is so empowering.
You should come see me sometime. If you come for the show, make sure you stick around and have a drink after. I know most of y’all have work in the morning. You’ve got babysitters and mortgages and people who judge you.
But guess what beautiful. Not every part of you has to be boring and responsible.
Some part of you gets to be bright fuckin’ pink.
Comments
Lusty Stallion
I wish you were a genie Derek!
Derek Williams
This comment makes me feel seen. I'm not Mikey, but I'm not Michael anymore either. People often act like the hard part is coming out – and that can be hard, mine wasn't great – but there's a lot of self-acceptance that has to happen too. In some ways, it's taken me much longer to love this part of myself then it ever too my family to learn how to get over me being gay. I've been doing a lot of work, and I'm pleased to say that the last year has been easier for me. I'm getting comfortable in queer spaces, I'm getting comfortable being open about who I am, I'm learning that being gay isn't just one thing and I don't have to conform to other peoples definitions. In this story Mikey gets comfortable in his own skin – I've been working on doing the same. None of us are alone in this.
Naks
I can so relate with Mikey. I look at him every day in the mirror. And his boss, is my family. I know as gays we can make our own family, and I have, but I love my bio family so much, I just wish they could accept me for me. Or that I could accept me for myself. I think I need a few rounds of Ethan's drinks. Maybe one that would make me an influencer bro type.. providing thirst traps on all the socials. Thanks DW for such a well written story. I really enjoyed this one!
Derek Williams
If I was a genie or a magic bartender... y'all would have some weird nights.
Drawdex
Amazing as always, damn if i had chance like mikey id do it in a heart beat to
