Prologue - Zach
The club was dark and seedy. The vinyl stools at the bar were torn, the tables grimy. The air seemed smoky despite the public smoking ban Denver had passed years ago, and I wondered if it had been trapped here all that time, lingering with the dust and the pheromones. It made the place feel dangerous.
Just walking through the door made my pulse race and my cock hard.
This wasn't what Angelo would have picked. He liked places that were loud and full of energy. Places where he could dance and flirt and see what was in a man's eyes before they got too close. Places where the thick black eyeliner he wore at my request didn't set him apart.
The bar was a scene from my past. I'd picked it not because I expected to see anyone I knew, but because I knew most of the men there had only one thing on their agenda. Angelo entered ahead of me, a lamb walking willingly into the meat market. I suspected he wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk back outside, but he was good at bravado. Although a dozen pairs of eyes turned to watch us, I was sure nobody else saw the split second of hesitation he had about entering. Nobody else thought twice about the fact that he walked straight to the bar and ordered two shots of tequila, which he slammed without even a breath in between. But after more than two years together, I knew him well. He was nervous.
"Never pictured you at a place like this," he said, as he turned and scanned the other men in the bar.
"I used to come here," I told him. "Before Jonathan left me." My patronage of this bar and my activities with the men I'd met here had been a large part of the reason Jon had moved out. In hindsight, I could admit to myself that was half the reason I'd done it. I was too much of a coward to end things with him. It had been easier to line up the dominos, but let him be the one to knock them over.
Angelo's sidelong glance at me was wary. "You used to come here with him?" I knew what he was really asking: did I used to do this with him.
"No," I said, stepping close to his side so that I could put my arms around him. He didn't turn toward me, but he tilted his head away from me so I could put my lips against his ear. I had to brush his thick black hair out of the way first. It had grown out again, hanging in his eyes as it had when I first met him. "We never did anything together like this," I said.
The truth was, it had never occurred to me back then. I hadn't known until much more recently how much of a voyeur I really was.
New Year's Eve, nearly two years before, I had watched Cole and Angelo flirting with each other across Jared and Matt's crowded living room. Part of me had known that other men would have been jealous, but I wasn't. Cole was no threat to me. I knew that what Angelo and I shared went far deeper than sex. He was an angel who only landed for me. Letting him fly a bit wouldn't change that.
Following that realization came the mental image of the two of them together, and I had felt myself grow hard at the thought.
I knew Jared assumed that Angelo had asked to go with Cole and I had given in, but that wasn't the case. I was the one who suggested it. Telling Angelo it was okay for him to fool around with Cole had been easy. It was waiting in the kitchen for him that had been hard. It wasn't that I regretted allowing it to happen, but I did regret not insisting that I at least be in the room. Wondering exactly what they were doing together had been simultaneously maddening and arousing. When I learned later that evening that there were still things that Angelo reserved for me alone, I felt vindicated. It was all the proof I ever needed that he was mine in every way that really mattered. Still, it was only a quick fuck. After that night, it was all but forgotten by me, and I was pretty sure by Ang as well. It had no bearing on our relationship at all.
The Vegas trip had changed everything. The first night at the club had been Angelo's idea. And his frank statement that he wanted to dance--and I had known as soon as he said it that he meant more than just moving to the music--had sparked the same emotions in me I'd felt as I watched him and Cole eyeing each other across a room. I could let him fly a bit. I knew he would always come home. So I stood there, with my ex-boyfriend at my side, watching Angelo dance. I knew Jon was talking, although I barely heard a word he said. I could only see Angelo. And what I saw was a revelation to me. He was beautiful and wild and completely unashamed. So many men wanted him, and although he encouraged their attentions to some extent, he was always in control.
Of course, that night had ended badly, but not because of the dancing. I woke the next morning to find him gone, just a note on the bed to tell me he'd be back. And as upset as I was at him for what he'd said the night before, underneath it was the growing knowledge that more than anything, I wanted to go back to the club. I wanted to watch him with those men.
The second night at the club had been my idea, and mine alone. Jared and Matt probably assumed that night was Angelo's idea, too, but they couldn't have been more wrong.
It wasn't just about seeing him fool around. It had more to do with control. I knew that before me, Angelo had always had to be in charge of his sexual encounters. He was always the one calling the shots. The fact that when he was with me, he handed me the reins and followed without question was part of what made him mine.
So I watched him on the dance floor, and I became more and more aroused as the night went on. I watched him control every encounter he had. And then I dragged him into the men's bathroom, and he let go of that control for me. He let me push him into the stall and bend him over in front of me. He let me do something he would never in his life allow another man to do.
Even now, more than a year and a half later, the thought of that night turned me on more than I could say.
There had been a subtle change between us after that trip. He trusted me more. That heartbeat of panic that I had occasionally seen in his eyes disappeared. And more and more often, he went to bed with me rather than sleeping in his own room.
One morning six months later, as I lay in bed watching him dress, I suggested we go to a club again. It was something I'd been thinking about a lot, but I was surprised at the hesitation I saw in his eyes.
"Is that what you want?" he'd asked.
"It seems like it helped," I said. The fact that he didn't have to ask what I meant by that seemed like proof that I was right. "If being with other guys once in a while--"
"No!" he said, cutting me off. He climbed onto the bed, straddling me and looking down into my eyes. "You don't get it, Zach. It wasn't dancin' with those guys that made me feel better 'bout us."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It was 'cause you wanted it. It was somethin' I could do for you."
Right or wrong, that only made me want it more. "So you don't want to do it again?" I'd asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
He gave me his lopsided smile, and I knew he thought I was being a bit dense. "I'll do whatever you want me to do, Zach," he said. "But don't think you need to do it for me. I'll never touch another man again, if that's what you ask."
"And if that's not what I ask?"
His grin grew, becoming a mischievous smile. "Then I'll do that too."
And now, a year later, we were here because I'd finally admitted to him that I wanted to watch him do a lot more with another man than dance.
Angelo ordered a beer, and I sat on the bar stool next to him, waiting. They always came to him. The first one was big, a bear wearing jeans and biker boots and a leather vest with no shirt. Angelo could act tough, but I knew big guys freaked him out. He'd never let a guy like that touch him. The second one was older than me by at least ten years, although not bad looking. That might have worked, but he only wanted to go with us if we went to a motel together. Angelo wouldn't go that far. But as the saying goes, the third one's the charm.
He was young. I wouldn't even have believed that he was twenty-one, except they'd obviously carded him when he came in the door. He had spiky blonde hair, a tattoo peaking out over the collar of his T-shirt, and ripped jeans with a thick chain that hung from his waist and disappeared into his pocket. He looked like a punk, and I smiled to myself. That was exactly what I'd thought of Angelo once upon a time too.
Angelo hooked his finger into the kid's waistband and pulled him close. The kid already had his hands on Angelo, first on his hips, and then moving up his sides, under his shirt. Angelo didn't respond, just talked in the kid's ear, too low for me to hear. But the kid nodded, and Angelo smiled over at me.
"Where's the back door?" Angelo asked. He wasn't even surprised when I knew the way.
It was warm for late November in Colorado, which was lucky. There were two other guys in the alley. The narrow area between the buildings was a myriad of shadows, but I could make out enough to know that one was leaning against the wall, his hands gripping the head of the man kneeling before him. I deliberately chose a spot slightly illuminated by the street lamps at the end of the alley. I pushed Angelo gently back against the wall, and he pulled me close to him.
"This really what you want?" he asked.
"You don't want to?"
"I'll do whatever you ask, Zach, but I can't take this back once it's done. I need you to be sure."
Those words were an aphrodisiac to me, and I moaned, pushing hard against him. "I'm sure." This angel belonged to me. Nobody would ever know him the way I did. They might all want him, but he didn't care. He only cared what I wanted. And at the moment, I wanted nothing more than to see him get off. "I love you," I told him.
"You got a pretty fucked up way of showin' it." But I knew by the laughter in his voice that he was teasing.
I stepped away from him, turning toward the punk. He was only a foot away, watching us, breathing hard. "I'll do either one of you," he said, his voice thick with arousal.
I reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to us and turning him toward Angelo. "You only touch him."
Angelo pushed down on the kid's shoulders, and he went to his knees willingly, whimpering in anticipation. I reached around his head to undo Angelo's pants. I heard a zipper, and a moan from the kid at my feet. He had undone his pants and was stroking himself, his eyes wide as he watched me push Angelo's boxers out of the way, revealing his erection. I leaned over the kid and kissed Angelo one more time, stroking him for just a moment before letting him go.
I took a step back, giving the kid room to work, and myself enough space to watch it all. The kid wrapped his free hand around Angelo's cock, and Angelo grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him toward his waiting cock. Angelo's eyes locked on mine, and he smiled at me. Then his breath caught, and I knew just by watching his face that the punk had really begun. His lips parted sensuously, and his eyes drifted shut, and he tipped his head backward against the wall. I kept my ears tuned to the sound of Angelo's breathing as I watched. I knew it so well by now--the way it became louder at first, and yet somehow slower, too, like he wanted to moan, but couldn't remember how. After that, it sped up as his climax drew near, until he was panting, almost whimpering, although he rarely made a sound. And finally, he would catch his breath and hold it as he came, sometimes forgetting to breathe for so long that I wondered how he managed to remain conscious.
He was lost in the pleasure now, drifting on that tide of sexual energy as the kid sucked him. I liked watching his face and the way his long, slender fingers tangled into the kid's blonde hair. I liked the way the kid's arm moved quicker and quicker as he beat himself off to the tempo of his head bobbing against Angelo's groin. I was unbelievably turned on, almost painfully so, and trying to decide if I could wait until we got back to the car, or if I wanted to jack off right there while I watched. Angelo's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Zach," he said hoarsely, and I looked up into his half closed eyes. "Come here."
I moved closer. I leaned awkwardly over the kid at Angelo's feet, and heard him groan as my weight pushed against his back. Angelo was already unzipping my jeans. He wrapped one arm around my neck and pulled me close, kissing me hard. His other hand slid into my pants and wrapped around my shaft. He stroked only once--
And the whole world ceased to exist as I came. I didn't even notice the moment when Angelo quit breathing. I had no idea if the kid at my feet climaxed, too, or not. The release was almost as strong as it had been in that bathroom stall in Vegas so long ago. And it was nothing more than Angelo's hand.
The kid moved from between us, and I pulled Angelo close to me, both of us still shaking a bit and breathing hard. "Kind of kinky, aren't you, Zach?" he teased.
"You can always say no."
"I know I can," he said. "That's why I don't."