3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

LEWIS

I don't know what I'm even doing at Wooley's, Fall Crosse's only gay bar, when I'm still hungover from last night. I nudge the untouched glass in front of me farther away so I can stop smelling the gag-inducing stench of vodka coming from it, not at all diluted by the soda. It's quiet, which isn't surprising for a Monday night. There are just a few guys seated along the bar, enjoying a drink by themselves just like I am, and a smattering of small groups gathered around tables or playing pool.

The song playing on the jukebox comes to an end, and when the next one starts up, I grit my teeth, my blood pressure spiking so quickly I won't be surprised if I stroke out right here and now.

"Noooo," I groan, banging my forehead lightly against the bar top and immediately regretting it when I feel how sticky the surface is.

"Not a fan of the Barbie soundtrack?" The smooth, deep voice rolls through me like a clap of thunder, vibrating in my bones and making my stomach quiver. I know that voice. Fuck, do I know that voice. It's been playing on a loop in my fantasies for the past four weeks.

All the blood in my body rushes straight into my cock and I slowly lift my head off the bar. Surely, I'm experiencing an auditory hallucination brought on by the torture of having to listen to this same song on repeat all day long like I'm in some extremely cruel circle of hell. This is the bad place. It has to be, right?

I slowly swivel on my stool, fully prepared to find no one there. To my delighted surprise, either my hallucination was kind enough to fully materialize or there actually is six feet of inked, muscled, silver daddy standing less than a foot away from me. My eyes travel slowly upward from his jeans, which cling to his thighs like they're molded directly to every muscle, to the Nirvana t-shirt that fits him like he's been wearing it since high school and probably about thirty pounds of muscle ago, and finally up to the smirking face that's been haunting my wet dreams for a month.

I swallow hard and just stare at him for several way-too-long seconds. This man has to think I'm a moron, right? Hopefully he at least thinks I'm a hot moron. Given the way his eyes are roaming over me the same way mine just gobbled him up, there's a good chance.

"Arrow," I finally say.

"Mind if I sit here?" He gestures at the empty stool next to me and I bobble my head wordlessly, then snap out of my boner-induced stupor.

"Yeah, of course." I nudge the stool towards him and reach for the drink in front of me. Drinking it is no more appealing than it was two minutes ago, but at least it's something to do with my hands.

I angle myself towards him and drag my thumb back and forth over the smooth surface of the glass, smearing beads of condensation across it. I continue to devour Arrow greedily with my eyes as he flags down the bartender and orders a beer and a glass of water, my knee bouncing and my heart slamming violently into my ribcage like it's trying to make an escape.

This isn't the first time I've bumped into a hookup after the fact, but I'm never sure what the right course of action is. Do I address the elephant in the room and make up some excuse about why I never called him? Does he even care that I never called? Maybe he's just being polite. He spotted me and figured it would be rude not to come over and sit down. More likely he's looking for another quick and dirty hookup. Oh, please, please, please let that be what he's after. I promise to be a good boy the rest of the year, and I won't even ask for anything for Christmas.

The bartender sets Arrow's drink in front of him. He takes a sip, then turns towards me, our knees bumping.

"You come to Wooley's often?" he asks.

I rasp out a laugh and then tut. "Arrow, Arrow, Arrow. Just because you look old doesn't mean you have to use such a dated pickup line."

He clasps a hand over his chest, feigning chest pains. "I look old? Fuck, just take me out back and shoot me already."

"It's the silver hair." I reach over and run my fingers through his gray beard, the nervous feelings inside of me morphing into the bold, horny ones I'm used to. "But it's a really hot old, if that helps. Like ‘spank me, silver Daddy' vibes."

His steely eyes dance with molten heat. He leans over closer and lowers his voice. "Only if you ask nicely, Lewis." There's just a hint of sternness in his tone that makes my cock throb and kind of makes me wish I was more into Daddy stuff, because damn does Arrow have the vibe for it.

"Maybe later," I tease.

He sits back and takes another sip from his glass. "And, no, that wasn't a pickup line. I was actually trying to figure out if I've somehow been unlucky enough to miss you every time I've been in here before."

"I come here sometimes, but most of the time I go to Belland or Milwaukee if I'm in the mood to hit the bar."

"Less chance of bumping into some guy you never bothered to call?" The edge of teasing in his voice isn't enough to soften the accusatory blow.

I wince and take a sip of my drink without thinking. As soon as the alcohol hits my tongue, I gag and then sputter a cough, my stomach clenching violently.

"Shit, are you okay?" Arrow pushes his glass of water towards me and puts his large, warm hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles right between my shoulder blades.

I take a careful sip of the offered water, then nod.

"Yeah, just had the hangover from hell and my body is obviously refusing to live through a repeat tomorrow." I grab a napkin and wipe my mouth, then push my drink far enough away that I won't accidentally sip any more of it. "And about the whole not calling thing…" I tug my bottom lip between my teeth and weigh the truth in my head. Of course I wanted to call him, but all I could think about was how embarrassingly needy I was when we hooked up.

" Just… make me feel like I'm special, okay? You don't have to mean it… "

Ugh, stupid, horny Past Lewis has no chill and absolutely no dignity and I'm the one forced to always face the humiliation of it.

I give Arrow a tight smile that I hope he takes as the apology it's meant as.

"Don't worry about it," he says, holding up a hand to wave the whole thing off. "I get it. Just because I spent a whole month jerking off to the memory of the face you made when you came all over my cock and wondering why you tasted like cherries, doesn't mean I crossed your mind."

Heat flashes through me and my breath stalls in my throat. I nod rapidly. Yes, I thought of you. Yes, I definitely spent too many nights with my hand on my dick remembering the feeling of your body and the rasp of your breathing in my ear.

But, fuck, Arrow has ‘trouble' written all over him. I've been with guys like him before. I've fallen for every sexy, badass, big-dick-energy asshole in the Midwest, and my heart is still tender from the last few pricks who used it as a hacky sack.

My brain and my dick battle it out for a minute or two while I stare at him, my hand on his thigh even though I can't remember putting it there, his eyes boring right back into mine.

Fuck it.

"Come on." I grab his hand and haul him off his stool.

He doesn't argue, just abandons his drink and lets me lead him down the dimly lit hallway. I'm not sure what I'm looking for—maybe a supply closet. It sounds cliché, but it's preferable to a public bathroom. Yuck . I slowly push open the first door we come across and peek inside. The lights are off, but enough comes in from the hallway that I can see there's a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. I'm guessing it's the owner's office, and since he's not using it at the moment, let's hope he's generous enough not to mind us borrowing it for a few minutes.

I stifle a laugh, feeling like a rebellious teenager as I drag Arrow inside and press my back up against the door, facing him with a smile in the darkness. There's a quiet click and a light comes on, illuminating the gorgeous man towering over me. He pulls his hand back from the light switch and hooks it behind my neck.

A beat of silence passes between us, nothing but the uneven sound of our breathing and the distant, muffled music playing. His fingers twitch against the back of my neck, and I dart my tongue out to wet my dry lips. His eyes follow the movement, his pupils dilate, and something between us snaps.

I part my lips greedily as he slams his mouth into mine. His body is hot and solid, and the smell of motor oil and lavender antiseptic tickles my nose, reigniting the memories of our sweaty bodies writhing against each other while a flash storm raged outside. A moan vibrates on my tongue and my hard cock throbs against his thick thigh as he shoves it between my legs and pins me to the door.

I grab a handful of his t-shirt while he tightens his grip on the back of my neck and braces his other hand against the wall. Our tongues tangle around quiet moans, and our lips fall into a dizzying, hungry rhythm.

Well, damn, this day is finally looking up.

ARROW

The last thing I expected was to bump into Lewis at Wooley's tonight. Sure, the first week or two after we hooked up and he never called, I came in here a little more than usual hoping he might be here. But eventually I gave up, figuring he wasn't the bar type, or that maybe he just didn't like Wooley's in particular. I thought I was imagining things for a minute when I actually spotted him tonight.

I didn't claim the seat next to him hoping to get my hands on him again though.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of fucking course I did.

I grunt as his tongue snakes around mine and his sweet cherry flavor floods my senses. He grinds against my thigh and my cock throbs, pressing so hard into my zipper that I'll be surprised if I don't have an imprint from it later.

My pulse thunders in my ears as our lips move ravenously against each other, my hands sliding under his shirt to skate across the warm planes of his skin. He's soft as a goddamn flower petal, and Jag's teasing words from the other day about breakable twinks ring in my head. My fingers twitch and dig in harder, finding purchase against his ribcage. He moans into my mouth again. That's Jaguar's miscalculation. Delicate doesn't mean fragile, and he should know that better than anyone.

Lewis sucks my lip between his teeth and bites down, then drags his tongue along the bruised flesh to soothe it, sinking his fingers into my hair and swiveling his hips to hump my thigh. I shove it more firmly between his legs and growl against his mouth.

I break the kiss and gulp down a few breaths to steady the spinning in my head. He blinks at me in a daze, his cheeks flushed and his lips just as damp and swollen as I left them last time. My cock gives another eager lurch and my balls tighten.

"You know, we could get caught in here, and that would be pretty damn embarrassing," I warn him with a chuckle, bumping my nose against his. Am I angling for him to suggest we go back to his place or mine? Maybe a little.

"Shh." He laughs, using his grip on the front of my shirt to pull me closer again until our lips are less than an inch apart. "No one is going to come in here in the next five minutes, so hurry up and make it count."

I let out a rough chuckle, sliding one hand under his shirt to soak in the warmth of his skin. "Ten," I bargain, nipping at his bottom lip.

"Deal," he rasps, pulling me right back into a kiss.

I gave him my card, but he never bothered to call or stop by, and he turned a disturbing shade of green when I teased him about not calling. Maybe that really was because of his hangover, but maybe it wasn't. Neither of those things suggest a high level of interest on his part, but his fingers deftly undoing my belt and his hard cock against my leg are definitely what I would consider mixed signals.

Fuck me, this is how I always end up in the same mess over and over. For some stupid reason, my heart can never tell the difference between genuine interest and pure animal lust. I've made an ass of myself more times than I can count with men who only saw me as a way to get off, while I was dreaming up romantic happily ever afters.

I'm not going to make the same mistake with Lewis.

If he wants ten minutes of thinking with our dicks instead of our heads, then I'm going to make every last second count and worry about mixed signals later. I deepen the kiss, forcing him to his tiptoes as I press him into the door and bend my knees so I can reintroduce our cocks to each other, even if it's only through our clothes. My belt buckle clangs and rattles, my zipper halfway down, the cotton of my boxer briefs already damp and sticky with precum as I drag my erection against the hard outline of his. He pants into my mouth, tangling one hand in my hair and the other in my beard.

Has he thought about me at all? Has he spent even a single night with his hand around his cock, groaning my name into his pillow without relief? Fuck knows I've made more of a habit of it than I'd like to admit.

Or was there a different man in his back seat the next night, tasting his cherry lips and painting him with their shared release? I don't even know Lewis, and I sure as fuck don't have any claim to him. But the thought sends a rush of jealous heat through me anyway and tears a growl from my chest, only for it to be swallowed down by Lewis with a sexy as fuck little mewl as I shove my hand down his jeans to grope his straining cock roughly.

I wrap my fingers around his slender shaft, tugging his boxer briefs tight around his erection, and stroke him. Even through the fabric, I can feel the blazing heat of his skin and the soft bulge of the veins that line his cock from root to tip, throbbing with his thundering pulse and electric lust that's ricocheting between us.

"Arrow," he gasps, and my inner caveman beats his chest triumphantly.

That's right, beautiful, say my name. Forget you even know anyone else's. I stroke him faster, thumbing the head of his cock every time I reach it and reveling in the way his underwear is getting wetter and wetter with precum.

I suck his tongue, then drag my lips away from his mouth to kiss and nip my way along his jaw and down his throat.

"I don't have a stopwatch on me to clock that ten-minute deadline," I murmur, sucking a patch of skin at the crook of his neck between my teeth. "Think I have time to get my mouth on you before the buzzer?"

Lewis makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a moan, bobbing his head and using his grip on my hair to nudge me downward, making his enthusiasm for the idea clear. I sink to my knees and he sags against the wall, his eyes fixed on me, shining with desire. He's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth again, his chest heaving with rapid breaths as he tangles his other hand in my hair and thrusts his hips impatiently.

Hooking my fingers in his pants and underwear, I tug them down to his thighs in one swift motion, letting his cock swing free enticingly. I flick my tongue teasingly over the flared head, my eyes rolling back and lust tightening in my gut at the salty-sweet flavor of his precum. I moan and part my lips, catching him between them as I wrap my hands around the back of his thighs to help him stay upright. I swallow down his long, slender cock with relative ease, stroking along the underside of his shaft with my tongue and burying my nose in the thatch of blond pubic hair at his base.

He makes a strangled sound as I hold him in my throat for a minute, savoring the weight of him on my tongue and the shudder that racks his body when I swallow around him.

He gasps my name again, and cocky possessiveness lights up my insides. I grunt around my mouthful, sending vibrations through his cock with the sound, before I pull back until just his cockhead rests on my tongue, then take him deep all over again.

I'd love to tease him by starting out slow and building up to a faster rhythm, keeping him on the edge until he can't hold himself back from humping my face and begging me to swallow his cum. My cock throbs eagerly at that idea, but since I don't know how serious he was about the ten-minute limit, I get right down to business, setting a pace that has him moaning and scrambling for purchase against the wall in no time.

His knees quake and my name falls from his lips over and over in between half-bitten curses and whining pleas. A mixture of saliva and precum trickles out of my mouth to dampen my beard as I take him into my throat over and over again, sliding one hand between his legs to tease his taint with the ghosting brush of my fingertips.

"Oh fuck, I'm so close. Oh god, oh fuck," he rasps, twisting a handful of my hair tighter until my scalp stings. He snaps his hips forward, instinct taking over, his body running on the primal need to find release as his balls constrict and his muscles tense. "Arrow," he wails my name and his cock swells against my tongue, then starts to throb and pulse. I pull back so I can catch the volley of hot, salty cum, greedily lapping at his slit to coax every last drop from him.

When he's spent, I drag my lips off him slowly, a string of saliva connecting the head of his cock to my mouth for a split second before it falls away. Lewis's skin is flushed, and his eyes are clouded over with pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. My cock is still rock hard, but the fact that I'm too damn old to be kneeling on a cement floor for any amount of time is a more pressing issue at the moment.

I wince and haul myself to my feet, grabbing Lewis around the waist and pulling him along with me for the few steps it takes to reach the rolling chair in front of the small desk. I collapse into the chair with a groan, and he chuckles.

"Your turn," he says, dropping to his knees between my legs.

My cock gives a hearty jerk and I lift my hips to help him tug my pants down. He doesn't tease, doesn't waste a second before wrapping his slender fingers around the base of my cock and his hot lips around me.

"Fuck yeah," I grunt, rocking my hips gently, my eyelids fluttering at the silky feeling of his tongue and the give of the back of his throat as he relaxes to take me deep.

He groans and hums, the sound running through me and tightening around my balls. The sloppy, wet sound of his mouth as he works it up and down my length is just as hot as the noises he's making, every one of them making the pit of my stomach tighten. I drag my fingers through the soft tangle of his hair and keep my eyes open just a slit, so I can watch every flicker of expression on his face, cataloging all of it for my spank bank. If my brain is going to fixate on fantasies of Lewis, at least I'll have some fresh material after this.

He works one hand up and down my shaft in time with his mouth and tugs at my balls with the other. My toes curl in my boots, and even though I'm desperate for this to last, I'm helpless against the rising tide. I slam my hips up and throw my head back with a roar, emptying myself down his throat, my orgasm going on and on until my balls are sore and my whole body feels like Jell-O.

He releases my softening cock with an obscene pop, then wipes the back of his hand over his wet, swollen lips.

The sudden silence rings in my ears as Lewis sits back on his heels, and I tuck my spent cock back into my pants. He blushes, realizing he's still swinging free, then pushes to his feet to pull his pants up too.

"Is there any point in giving you my number again?" I ask, hoping I sound more casual than I feel as a rusty laugh catches in my throat.

He chews on his swollen bottom lip as he zips up his pants and runs his fingers through his messy hair to tame it. My pulse hammers out a drumbeat in my ears as I get up and do up my belt.

When there's nothing else for him to stall with, he lets out a breath and looks at me again.

"You were a shining spot in a really shitty day… twice, actually." He twists his lips and I brace for the brush off, the ‘but, let's leave it at that.' "But—"

Maybe he's just not a relationship kind of guy. As much as I want to shove my cum-flavored tongue back into his mouth and demand he fish out my card from wherever he put it and fucking call me, I resist the urge. I've learned the hard way that forcing relationships never works. It took more than once for that lesson to sink through my thick skull, as a matter of fact. I can want until I'm blue in the face, but if there's nothing on the other side then demands and possessiveness are going to get me fuck all.

"Got it." I cut him off to save myself the bruised ego. "Thanks for a memorable night." I step around him, pulling open the door and striding into the hallway.

"Arrow." Lewis is right behind me, catching my arm before I can get far. "How would you feel about keeping things casual?" His fingers dig into my forearm, scorching my skin like a brand.

If I'm being honest with myself, I've never managed to pull off anything casual. My heart always gets involved. I always end up more invested than the other person. I push too hard and make things fucking weird eventually. But with Lewis's big blue eyes on me and the taste of his release still on my lips, I already know my answer.

"I can do that."

He lets out a relieved breath and smiles as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone.

"Cool. Put your number in and I promise I'll text you this time."

Will he? I guess there's only one way to find out.