At his friend Dax's words, Erik Porter glanced across the bar to where the subject of their discussion sat, leaning forward on his elbows. Erik studied his dark hair and wide shoulders. An aquiline nose held up a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, making him look a bit like Clark Kent. Did Superman lurk inside waiting to pummel a drunken ass?

Only, Erik wasn't drunk. He pushed away his beer. "You want me to go over there and kiss that guy? For a hundred dollars? Kiss him?" He shook his head, calling Dax's bluff. "When did I get to be the gay man in this group?"

Dax smirked. "Since you got wood watching True Blood. Just do it, and stop being a wuss."

Erik scowled. He'd argued too many times that it was the hot chick not the vampire who turned him on, but Dax was adamant. Why the hell had Dax been looking at his package anyway?

"I'm not gay," Erik muttered, thinking maybe he should have had a few more beers after all.

"Prove it. Kiss him, and show how much you don't like it."

"Then will you shut up about it?" He wasn't proud that he was considering this, but the hell with it. He'd kiss the guy, apologize and see an end to this constant badgering.

"Two hundred," he demanded. "And I want to see the cash before I do it."

"Done," Dax said as he slammed two hundred dollar bills on the table. "Do it."

Shit... This wasn't remotely close to how Erik had thought he'd conclude spring break. They'd been here to check out the med school Erik would attend next year and, while they were at it, have a helluva time in Vegas. Tonight was a last hurrah in Sin City before they climbed on a plane tomorrow morning. They'd chosen a small, hole-in-the-wall bar way off the off-the-strip area. At least, the place was nearly empty.

"Why that guy?"

"He's alone and, from the way he's alternately looking around and staring into his drink, he's lonely. Give him a thrill."

Leave it to the psych major. Erik supposed Dax would be great at his chosen career. He was a bit of an asshole about analyzing and pushing people's buttons. Everyone was a case study, even if he was dead wrong, as he was about Erik. Erik wasn't gay. Period.

He looked over at the third man in their party. He'd remained silent as Dax had egged Erik into action.

"Mace?" Erik asked, pleading for him to say one dissuading word.

Mason snorted then took a swig from his beer. He pulled a hundred from his pocket and placed it on top of the other bills. "Three hundred," he anted. "'Cause I'm pretty sure you don't have the lady balls to do it."

Those were fighting words. Erik was on his feet and halfway across the bar before his brain realized he'd been had. Dax and Mace had probably preplanned this, but he wasn't backing down. Squaring his shoulders, Erik continued to his target. He placed a hand on the bar beside the man.

"Hey," he said, realizing his quarry was a few years older than his twenty-two. And even Clark Kent-ier up close. Damn, Erik had always thought Clark Kent was kinda dorky-cool--but not hot, because Erik wasn't gay.

"Hey..." the guy replied, his response nearly a question.

Before Erik chickened out and before his victim could deduce what was going on, Erik drove the fingers of his free hand into the back of the man's hair then made a fist, holding him still and leaning forward. His mouth landed on lips that had parted with shock.

Pretend it's a girl, his reasoning screamed. But his body knew. Strange excitement speared through him at the firm lips. His pulse throbbed through his temples, his heart pounding in his chest. Instinctively, he stabbed his tongue into the man's waiting mouth.

The guy made a sound halfway between protest and groan. His hands went to Erik's shoulders, but when Erik thought he'd be shoved away, fingers curled into his shirt. He leaned into the kiss, controlling it, exploring the beer-flavored recesses of the man's mouth. His grip loosened, and he cupped the stranger's head, his mouth still drinking of his dare's warm lips.

God, he needed to feel that warm body against his cock. Realizing his thoughts, Erik panicked. He released the guy and stepped back so fast the world spun dizzily. Wide-eyed, he stared at the man's bemused face.

"Jesus," the stranger gasped.

"Thanks," Erik muttered. "Uh...I'm sorry."

Turning, he rushed to the table. He held out his hand, his look daring either of his friends to say a word. "Pay up."

Silently, Dax piled the bills into his palm. Erik shoved the cash into his pocket, took a last swig of beer to wash away the startling taste of the man he'd kissed then headed outside--going where, he didn't know. Dax had the keys and the bar was nowhere close to their hotel. But he needed fresh air more than he needed to be with his friends.

"Hey, Asshole!"

Erik turned, already at the far end of the parking lot. A fist to his face took him by surprise, and he landed hard on the pavement. He stared up at the hurt face of the man he'd kissed.

The guy shook his head, the hurt turning to distain. "Jerk," he growled then turned away.

Erik crawled to the grass a few feet from him and collapsed onto his back to wait for Dax and Mace. He'd have a black eye tomorrow.

And he was, indeed, an ass of epic proportions.