1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

MILO

There's an unfocused buzz of energy under my skin that makes me want to scream or dance or run a mile… all of which I've already tried this afternoon. I also took a shower, jerked off, and watched the first ten minutes of three different movies. Obviously, none of it worked and I didn't really expect it to. Not when there's so much riding on tomorrow and fuck knows I'm bound to fuck it up somewhere along the way. Probably already fucked the whole thing up by trying to be sneaky about it. But it's too late to change my approach now. It is what it is and all that's left to do is wait and hope like hell it turns out the way I've spent years imagining. If not… well, I don't have the first fucking clue. What's that saying? Planning to fail is… something.

The door to the bar swings open right in my face, and I jerk my hand up reflexively just in time to keep it from resulting in a trip to the emergency room to reset a broken nose. Wouldn't be the first time an impulsive outing ended with me at urgent care, but it's not really the distraction I'm looking for tonight.

The two guys who emerge from the other side of the door scramble to apologize. I give them a friendly nod as I wave them off. No harm done. I hold the door so they can pass and then I slip inside. The lights are dim enough that it's not a shock stepping from the dark parking lot into the bar, and the music is the perfect volume to avoid awkward silence without immediately making me want to shove my fingers into my ears just so I can hear my own thoughts.

I glance around for a minute, taking the place in. It's a mix of old and new, original and renovated. The wood floors look like they've been refinished, while the bar a few feet away looks newly built. One summer spent apprenticing on a construction site five years ago and picking out shit like that is the one skill I walked away with. Is it a useful skill? I have no fucking clue.

There's a massive collage of photos covering one wall, all of them filled with queer couples smiling into the camera. If that weren't enough to reassure me that I picked the right bar, there's a Pride flag hanging behind the bar and several dudes getting handsy with other dudes over a drink or a game of pool.

My attention zeroes in on one guy in particular sitting at the bar all by himself. He's hunched over a bit, with his elbows on the bar top, a leather jacket slung over the empty stool next to him. His hair is dark and buzzed close to his skull, a five o'clock shadow dusting his chiseled jaw. He's covered in tattoos from his neck all the way down to his knuckles, as well as a small one under his left eye. Even from a few feet away, it's obvious he has close to twenty years on me, and fuck if that doesn't make him that much hotter. Unfortunately, I'm a total stereotype. I never met my own father so now I have daddy issues and an unquenchable thirst for older men. In theory, anyway. I still have yet to put it to the test, but considering how quickly my cock perks up to salute him, I can't imagine I'll be disappointed when I finally get around to losing my V-card to whichever nearly-twice-my-age hottie is lucky enough to deserve it.

Could he be the one? I drag my gaze over him again and my cock thickens even more. It would be the distraction I'm looking for tonight, that's for sure.

The nerves prickling through me like a low-level electric hum focus into something hotter and more excited. I click my thumb and index fingernails against each other in a fast rhythm as I psych myself up. Just because I have close to zero experience picking up guys, let alone guys as gorgeous and no doubt experienced as this one, doesn't mean I don't have anything going for me. I'm attractive in my own way, I'm fun, and I've watched enough porn that I'm sure I'll be able to figure out all the right ins and outs when the time comes.

I snort at my own unintentional double entendre, the huff of amusement releasing just enough of the pressure inside me that my feet start moving without another second of hesitation, carrying me across the room towards the bar.

I slide onto the empty stool on his other side and release another little breath. He turns his head and, fuck me, if he was boner-tastic from all the way across the bar, up close he's the kind of hot that should be illegal. A little divot forms between his eyebrows, and he drags his gaze over me so slowly it feels like he's stripping me out of my clothes one item at a time. A slow lick of heat spreads through my body and my cock strains against my zipper.

I nod towards the drink he has in front of him, nothing but melted ice in his glass, his fingers wrapped around it, the index twitching in a slow, rhythmic tap.

"What are you drinking?"

PISTON

I can't decide whether I should hook my foot around his stool and drag the slender otter of a man a few inches closer, or demand to see his ID to make sure he's even old enough to be inside this bar, let alone hitting on me. I swirl my glass absently, the ice clinking against the sides of it, my fingers slick from the condensation that's been forming on the outside of the glass for the past twenty minutes while I let the ice melt.

He cards his fingers through his mop of dark, shaggy hair and quirks an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to say something. There's something familiar about him, but I can't put my finger on what. His top lip is just a little bit too full compared to the bottom, and his whiskey colored eyes are triggering something that's itching at the back of my mind without managing to fall into place. Maybe I've met him before? Or maybe he just looks vaguely like someone I know. Possibly I find him extremely attractive and this whole tangent is just my brain's way of stalling while I try to decide on my answer.

"It was rum and Coke, but one is my limit," I finally say.

Disappointment creeps across his expression, but he pulls his lips into a crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his left cheek.

"Bummer. I'm desperate for a distraction tonight." He sighs and waves at Sawyer, who saunters down the bar to take his order. The kid shows his ID, then asks for an IPA. Since Sawyer turns around immediately to fill a glass for him, I'm assuming he either is over twenty-one or has a top-notch fake.

I tilt my glass to my lips and suck a piece of ice into my mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness and a hint of spice from the rum as I crunch it between my teeth. I'm staring, I know that, and he obviously knows it if his deepening dimple is any indication. So he's a little younger than I normally go for, is that an unforgivable sin?

My gut dances with a rising heat and an uncharacteristic pull towards something a little reckless. I'm allowed to be impulsive every once in a while, aren't I? I tap my fingers against my glass for one more second, then nod to Swayer.

"Can I get a Coke, no rum this time?"

"Sure thing." He fills a glass and slides it towards me.

I shift in my seat to pull my wallet out, but before I get the chance, the kid tosses a five onto the bar with a smirk.

"Thanks." I swivel towards him a little more, bumping my knee against his. "Piston, by the way."

I offer him my hand and he takes it. His skin is warm and smooth. His fingernails are painted a dark enough color that it's hard to make out in the dim lighting whether it's black, blue, or something else, and his grip is firm and sure. The touch lingers a few seconds longer than it needs to, but when he finally lets go, I'm disappointed it wasn't longer.

"Milo," he says.

"Nice to meet you, Milo." I test out his name on my tongue. There's something kind of sweet about it. "So, what do you need a distraction from? Parents getting you down? Stressed about finals?"

He huffs a laugh and takes a sip of his beer. "If that's your way of trying to ask how old I am, I'm twenty-eight. I'd be happy to show you my ID if you want."

"I'll take your word for it." I grin. "I haven't seen you around here before."

He angles himself towards me a little more, giving me a better view of his smile and the hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Interesting. So, you spend enough time at the local pickup bar to know all of the regulars."

I chuckle. "And you spend a lot of time deflecting attempts at conversation for a guy who came over to buy me a drink."

He snorts into his next sip then uses the back of his hand to wipe his face dry.

"Okay, you've got me there. Trying to be coy and mysterious clearly isn't my strong suit." He looks away from me, letting his attention wander around the bar for a minute before returning it to me. "The answer just isn't very sexy, so it might derail my attempt to seduce you."

My gut flutters and I smile wider unintentionally. Obviously, there's only one reason a guy grabs a seat next to you and offers to buy you a drink, but hearing him confirm it and in such a surprisingly guileless way makes my heart beat a little harder.

"Try me," I say with a shrug.

He looks down at his glass, his wavy hair falling over his forehead. My fingers twitch with the urge to reach over and push it out of his face, and since I can't think of a good reason not to, I do exactly that. His hair is as soft as his skin was, and my touch has him snapping his head up to look at me again.

"I did something crazy. I quit my job and broke the lease on my apartment, then I got in my car and drove all the way here from Colorado hoping to find my dad." He bounces his knee and seems to get distracted for just a second by loud laughter coming from one of the tables before he keeps talking. "He doesn't even know I exist."

He brings his glass to his lips and gulps down nearly half his drink in a few swallows.

I put my hand on his thigh to comfort him. The bouncing stills and he twists his lips into a wry smile.

"See? Not sexy."

I shrug again. "Real shit is more interesting than dirty talk."

Milo barks out a laugh. "Bullshit. You'd rather hear me whine about growing up without a dad than have me lean in close and whisper in your ear that I want to choke on your cock?"

I sputter into a sip of my own drink, spraying Coke through my nose and coughing a few times to clear the carbonated burn from my windpipe. I don't know if it's just been too long since I've gotten laid or if Milo's strange bluntness is doing it for me in a major way. Maybe a little of both.

I grab a handful of napkins to mop my face dry, then drag my hand over the rough stubble on my jaw, scrambling to grab onto something more tangible than attraction and lust for a second. I almost never do shit like this—pick up a guy at a bar and hook up. If I did that, I might end up led around by my dick like my friends are on a near daily basis. And then who would help them pull their heads out of their own asses?

One night couldn't hurt though, could it? One silly, impulsive hookup with a guy who's barely age appropriate but clearly interested wouldn't be the end of the world.

Fuck it.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" I ask.

Milo's lips part and his eyes widen. His knee starts bouncing again and he clicks his thumbnail and index finger against each other in a quiet sound I can only hear because we're sitting so close.

Did I misread things? Maybe he just meant to flirt a little and not actually see things through. It's not like I've never done that myself, buying a guy a drink, trading some smiles and casual touches, then dipping out before things get any further.

I'm about to tell him it's cool if he's not interested when he blurts out his answer.

"Yeah, let's do it."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He puts his hand on my thigh and slides off his stool so he's standing right between my legs. He's slim but not wispy, and probably at least as tall as I am, if not an inch or so taller. Dark chest hair peeks out over the V-neck of his t-shirt, and I notice a leather necklace with a metal charm on the end hanging around his neck. He's not fidgeting now.

"I'm sure." His touch feels steady and sure as he slides his hand up my thigh while he holds my gaze. "Let's go."

The certainty in his voice drags me out of my seat. I grab my jacket off the stool next to me and pull it on as I follow him through the bar towards the door. It's quiet outside, and too cold for crickets now that a November chill has crept in after a long summer that didn't seem to want to let go. If I'm lucky, I'll get another month to ride my Harley before she has to be put into the garage until spring.

"Did you drive?" I ask, catching up to Milo and running a hand up his back until I reach his neck. I wrap my hand around the nape of it gently, more resting it there than anything.

He shakes his head. "No. I walked. I'm staying at the motel right down the street."

"I know the one." It's not hard—there's only one in Fall Crosse. "No jacket either?" I frown, realizing he's only wearing a t-shirt, and I can feel a slight shiver making his body quiver.

Milo shakes his head again. Without hesitating, I slip my jacket off and hand it to him.

"Here, put this on."

"Oh, you don't have—"

"My helmet too," I cut him off, picking up my helmet as soon as we reach my bike and handing it to him.

He hesitates for a beat, then puts both of them on. Satisfaction fills my belly at the sight of him wearing my gear. My cock jerks and my fingers twitch as I nod towards my Harley. Milo climbs on gracefully. I doubt it's his first time, but I try not to think too hard about who else he might have been wrapped around on the back of a bike.

Arrow is usually the possessive one in our little club, but I think I actually understand where he's coming from for a change. I bite back the urge to growl and hop on. Milo doesn't have to wrap his arms around me to hold on, but he does anyway. The ride to his motel takes all of three minutes, but he spends the entire time teasing his fingers around my belly button through my shirt and pressing the swell of his cock against my ass. He points me towards the far end, and I cruise into a parking spot.

After Milo climbs off, he hands me back my helmet but keeps my jacket. Anticipation sizzles in my veins as I follow him towards the building. He fishes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door, flipping on a light as he leads me inside. I've driven past this place thousands of times, but I've never been inside. It's slightly nicer than I usually expect from a motel, but there's still that faint, lingering smell of cigarette smoke and mold that no amount of bleach or paint can quite cover.

We both toe off our shoes and he finally shrugs out of my jacket. The jittery moment he had when I asked if he wanted to leave Wooley's seems to be back. He drags his fingers through his hair and shuffles his feet, looking at the bed and then back at me.

"Hey." I take a step closer, bringing us toe to toe, barely an inch of space between us. "Whatever you're up for is fine. I don't care if we fuck or if we order an overpriced movie and make out for two hours."

His eyes brighten and a puff of air carrying a laugh bursts through his lips to dance across my face.

"That sounds fun, actually." He licks his lips, and I track the motion, mesmerized by the way the damp sheen makes his mouth look even more tempting. "You seriously wouldn't be disappointed?"

"As long as it's not Harry Potter ," I say with a flicker of a smile as I wrap my hand around his jaw. "No one fucks with my trans homies."

Milo's lips part on another laugh and I lean in to catch the sound with my own mouth. The vibration of it turns into a surprised gasp, and then a low hum of satisfaction as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me in closer. Our bodies meet in a slow collision, and I walk him backward a few steps towards the bed, our mouths brushing and bumping in search of the right rhythm. Milo's lips are even softer than they looked, the flavor of his beer still lingering on his tongue as he snakes it into my mouth to deepen the kiss.

He tumbles onto the bed, wrapping the front of my shirt around his hand to tug me down with him. He laughs against my lips as we awkwardly shuffle up the bed, trying not to break the kiss. The hard shape of his cock drags against my thigh, and I'm sure he can feel mine, but all of our groping stays relatively innocent, his hands slipping under my shirt to trace the planes of my stomach and chest while our tongues tangle.

Eventually we pry ourselves away from the kiss long enough to pick a movie. We settle on Thelma and Louise . Milo's enthusiasm for a young Brad Pitt has me growling and dragging him in for another tongue-heavy kiss before long though.

No matter how insistently my cock throbs or my balls ache, I just can't find it in me to be annoyed that this is all Milo wants to do. There's a playfulness to the way he kisses that mesmerizes me. He nips at my lips, occasionally breaking away to laugh or smile.

By the time the movie is over, my lips are sore and I'm sure my blue balls are officially permanent, but I can't stop smiling any more than Milo can.

"Are you going to be sticking around Fall Crosse for a while?" I ask, slipping my shoes back on and grabbing my jacket.

Milo shrugs, hovering near the door so he can let me out once I'm ready.

"I guess it depends on what happens tomorrow. But I don't really have anywhere else to go or any plans, so I'll probably be around for a little while either way."

I pull my phone out of my pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. He takes it and adds himself to my contacts without me even having to ask. As soon as he hands it back, I text him so he'll have mine too, then we linger over one last kiss at the door before I manage to drag myself away.

I reach down to adjust my raging erection as I saunter through the dark to my bike, an extra swagger in my step. Even though we kept things PG, it feels like tonight's small risk paid off. Maybe Milo will stick around long enough for me to take him on a few dates, at least.

I hop on my Harley and roar off into the darkness with that grin permanently etched on my lips.

I guess every once in a while, it's worth it to be a little impulsive. Who knows? This could be the start of something great.