Chapter 2

Not that Ian needed to see how close the other man was. He felt it; nudging against his shoulder, leaning into his ear. “How bad do you need that piss?”

Ian opened his mouth to reply and snapped it shut just as quickly. Anything he said would sound either lame or stupid. His breath caught when the young man brushed fingertips down his spine. More so when a finger caught his back belt loop and tugged him closer.

“Do I know you?” was all that Ian was able to come up with.

“Nope,” the man said, smirking at Ian’s reflection. “Perfect, right?”

“I—” and Ian had to stop. Right there. Mid-speech. Because the young man was pushing his hips into Ian’s upper thigh like they were old friends. With benefits.

“Interested?”

“I—” Ian repeated, swallowing on a suddenly dry throat. “Yes?”

Yes, as in, how much do you charge by the hour. Yes, as in, is this some kind of joke?

“In here,” the man said, pulling Ian towards one of the few empty stalls.

Ian felt like a colt just learning his legs as he stumble-trailed the blond towards the open door.

Impossible. He’s going to steal your wallet. This can’t happen.

Not to you.

Yet there he stood, in dumfounded awe, already breathing like he’d run five miles through the rain, as the door was shut and locked behind them.

The young man didn’t wait for an invitation. He pressed Ian into the metal sidewall and reached for Ian’s belt buckle.

“I…I’m Ian,” Ian said and felt a hot rush of embarrassment color his cheeks at the look he was tossed.

“I don’t care,” he was told, fingertips making easy work of the fastenings that held Ian’s body behind cloth.

“What’s your name?” Ian asked, surprising himself with the question, knowing damn well it was neither the time nor the place to be asking something so obviously redundant.

“Nobody,” the man said, pressing down Ian’s pants and underwear in one push. Ian stifled a breath of shock, want—uncertainty even—as the young man began to kneel.

“Shut up! Shut up and just go with this,” his cock told him, rising slowly despite the incessant poking of Ian’s conscience insisting he was too old for nameless games, too far into life to need the touch of a stranger. Too lonely for something like this to be enough.

Sensation bested common sense. And how could it not, Ian decided, as the young man began to drag his tongue over the head of Ian’s dick, as gold-flecked brown eyes were draped by eyelashes so long they looked like feathers against cheeks. It was beautiful. It was mesmerizing. It had been far too long since Ian had looked down and watched someone blow him.

When tasting became the hot, wet drag of swallow Ian was sure he was going to melt into the wall. “This is insane,” he whispered, bucking his hips into the vibration when the young man chuckled over his cock. Fingertips dug into Ian’s hips, motion intensified, and the slide of another zipper signified the man’s give in to his own pressures. It was a sound that couldn’t go ignored. Ian forced himself to lean to the right, to sidestep slightly, and caught the frown that lit on the other man’s forehead.

“I want to see you,” Ian said, almost choking on the words.

An odd expression flicked over the young man’s face and he released Ian’s body with a wet smack. He stood and Ian’s mind screeched at the obviously mistimed request, but the man wasn’t leaving. On the contrary, he stepped back, leaned against the opposing wall of the stall, wrestled his pants down further, and began to stroke his own cock, posing for Ian’s visual pleasure. He didn’t even flinch when Ian reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it.

Ian used his wrists to push the t-shirt so he could drag his fingers and palms over torso; the kind of torso Ian knew without doubt that only a young man could have without hours in the gym. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, doing everything possible to commit the body to memory: the sight, the feel, the smell.

He lowered his hand, hovered it at hip level, “Can I…”

“Touch?” the other man prompted when Ian’s tongue refused to continue. He grinned when Ian nodded. “How about you touch while you fuck me?”

A rush of desire powerful enough to make fluid leak and cock dance had Ian questioning his ability to hold everything back long enough to get any further. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Hell, yes,” the kid said without missing a beat.

Ian closed his eyes and took a breath. “You are old enough to be in the club, right?”

“Twenty-two.”

Ian’s eyes dropped to the apex of the young man’s body, at a strain no less than his own, and cautiously wrapped both hands around the man’s hips. Perfect. He fit perfectlyin Ian’s palms, feltperfect in Ian’s palms. Ian used his thumbs to trace the curve of bone. And couldn’t stop himself from asking again. “What’s your name?”

His request was ignored, his shoulders secured. “Do you have a condom?” the man asked. “If not, I have some in my jeans.”

“In my jacket,” Ian said, and then before the man could reach for the necessary clothing, Ian lifted both hands and cupped his face. “Tell me your name.”

Another emotion flickered through the man’s eyes and even while Ian’s internal berating told him he was being ridiculous, that the young man would just give him a fake name or worse, up and leave, Ian couldn’t stop his need to know. To make it at least that personal, if nothing more.