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Steve was at the bar down in town, only half a beer in, but it felt more like three or four with the way his failures were kicking up dust in his skull. And it must’ve shown on his face, because this man he didn’t know down the bar leaned across the two empty seats between them and asked, “You alright, mate?”
Steve did his best to assemble his face into something resembling a smile, but even a twitch at the corner of his mouth felt a fight against gravity. Said only, “Fine, thanks.” Ordinarily he’d want to welcome a man new in town, offer to play host a bit, but he hardly had the spirit to play host to himself at the moment.
Even so, the man slid his half-full pint down the bar and propped himself back up on the stool adjacent, a foot easy on the rest at the base of Steve’s.
“Come now, don’t be prickly,” the man said. He was wearing near the same as Steve’s early-thirties going-out uniform—dark jeans and a fitted polo, but gray instead of blue. “Just you’ve got near the saddest eyes I’ve seen all week. And I’ve got five girls, mate. I’ve seen some puppy-dog eyes,” the man said, leaning forward to peer at him, amused.
Felt a bit much, a stranger harping on like this about the arrangement of his face. Steve thought about all the times Jess had complained after a night out about a man instructing her flirtily to smile, sweetheart, and he wondered for a millisecond if the guy was flirting with him. But given his luck with that lately and the moroseness apparently plastered across his face he laughed at himself for even thinking it. Let himself laugh aloud a little too, barely more than a half-smiling breath, in attempt to dispel some of his pathetic aura.
He was still trying to sort out how to answer when the man reached up and pinched Steve's chin, wiggled it back and forth. “What’s a handsome boy like you got to pout about, eh?” he said, and then those fingers were pinching quick at his lower lip, tugging it open, letting it go.
Steve felt his mouth go slack, felt his breath stall out in his chest. These were all recognizable moves, ones Steve himself had pulled on his own boys when they were upset and he wanted to distract them, cheer them up. But coming from a man who couldn’t have been more than thirty, near his own age—some man in a bar who didn’t even know him? The attention, that easy touch to his face, his mouth, were a shock straight to his nervous system, frazzling up under his ribs.
Steve took a long drink, looked down at the bar, steadying himself. “Rough week, is all.”
“Alright, then. Keep your secrets.”
The man turned back to face the bar, quieted, and Steve almost let the conversation die, but the man hadn’t moved out of the seat just next to him, and in the near-empty bar it felt rude not to try to make up for his inhospitable mood.
“Not from here?” Steve asked, and his eyes caught on the dimple that dug sweet into the man’s cheek.
“Nah. In town for work.”
“Not much outside business around here.”
“We’re filming nearby. It's an ad for TV.”
“You’re an actor, then? Have I heard of you?”
“Rob Flusky. Doubt it.”
“Haven’t, sorry. What’s the ad for?”
“Home security systems. Working out of a house on some fancy cobblestone. Thing is, most people don’t really need the things, alarms and whatnot. But if you make ’em feel rich, they’ll think about losing all the shit they wish they had, and then they buy.”
“And who are you playing? The burglar or the housewife?”
“Police officer, showin’ up to save the family.”
Steve snorted, having a bit of a laugh at the idea of some twiggy city-boy actor playing a policeman.
Rob jostled his shoulder with a forearm. “Hey, now. Was a firefighter near a decade. Cop’s close enough.”
“That’s an early retirement, even for one of you.”
“That’ll be the asthma,” Rob said, smile dimming a bit.
“Thus the acting?” Steve asked.
Rob nodded. “Thus the acting.”
“Policeman, myself.”
“No shit? And here you are out drinking on a weeknight.”
“Well. Taking a bit of time off at the moment.”
“Right. Love to hear more about that, but guessing you can’t say.”
Steve shook his head.
“So, then, Off-Duty,” Rob said. “Got any kids?”
“It’s Steve. Two with my ex, boys. You? Girls, you said?”
“All five of ’em.” Those dimples showed again, and Steve could not understand how this man let his happiness play out so easy across his face. He was jealous of it, that straightforward contentedness, of this man’s children, all the ones he could want, and of how good a dad he probably was, so easygoing and fun where Steve was uptight and morose.
“Well, aren’t you fertile,” Steve said, trying painfully to play it as a joke, but Rob didn’t fall for it, said, “Somebody’s jealous, eh?”
“Girlfriend wants more, our own, and—”
“Not goin’?”
“No.” Steve hesitated, drank, went on: “She cheated on me. After the first round of IVF. Didn’t find out till we’d started the second.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. So we made this deal. I can fuck someone else too, if I want to.” He didn’t know why he said it, exactly. It was just that Rob seemed genuinely interested—kept looking into his face, grinning and raising his eyebrows, giving these perfectly honest reactions to whatever he said. So different from the faint humming interest Steve had to drum up lately whenever he was speaking to someone.
“Yeah?” Rob said, and there was that grin, sly now. “I have that deal with my wife, only all the time. Talked about it first, though. Makes things a bit easier.” His squint then was something near a wink.
“Too bad we can’t all be gold-star communicators.”
“That what you’re out for, then?" Rob asked. "Conquesting?”
Steve shrugged, ignored Rob’s smirk.
“Seems like it’s going well,” Rob said.
“Fuck off.” Steve finished his beer, felt inclined to order another one as a distraction, or an excuse to sit longer. But his mouth moved on without him before he could decide to do it. “I tried, you know? I did,” he said, catching Rob’s eye briefly. Hoped he didn’t seem quite as piteous as he figured he sounded. “Just don’t think I have it in me right now, trying to pick somebody up.”
Rob leaned in, face bright, said, “Maybe you need somebody to pick you up, then, eh? Take you home and knock you up. Hmm?”
Steve sensed he should’ve felt emasculated by that, somehow—maybe he was just too tired to work up any more frustration. Maybe he could blame Rob Flusky’s cheeky grin for the way his heart raced, or maybe it was the joking semblance of interest, when he’d been feeling so unwanted, passed off even by his own boss, and chewed out by her after.
So he played along, ready to let it all fall out a joke. He licked his lip and smirked at Rob, raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Oh, and you think you can just fuck a baby into anything on two legs?”
“I can damn well try,” Rob said, leaning toward him with an impossibly wider grin. And then he stood up, gathered his jacket. “I’m headed back to mine now,” he said, and set a few bills on the bar for his drink. “Come along if you like.” He walked out without looking back, left Steve sitting there speechless and confused.
Jess had given him a pass. One fuck, if it would make him feel better, though he wasn’t certain it would. But talking with Rob, letting Rob’s grins catch up on his own face, that had made him feel better. Seeing Rob’s eyes linger on his face, on his forearms on the bar, and feeling the surprise of Rob’s fingers on his jaw, on his mouth, those had made him feel better. He couldn’t have said what else he wanted, but maybe he could allow himself this—just to let those betters play out how they might.
There was a chance he’d catch up to Rob only to be laughed off again, but as much as Rob had joked with him, none of it had seemed malicious. Steve paid and hurried out after him, caught up to him halfway across the little parking lot.
Rob jostled him with an arm around his shoulder, held Steve’s head against his, called him a good boy in this exuberant drawn-out growl, his mouth rough on Steve’s ear. Steve elbowed him in the ribs to push him off, but he could hardly keep Rob’s enthusiasm from spreading into a smile on his own face.
“I’ll probably hate myself for this tomorrow,” he said, still trying to tamp down that smile.
Rob ruffled his hair, said, “Nobody’s forcing you, mate.” And then he was bounding off to the side to walk a low fence like a balance beam next to the sidewalk.
Steve had imagined the walk would be awkward—not that it was far to the nearest hotel, the one he figured Rob would be staying at, but what were you supposed to talk about, when you’d finally realized someone was flirting with you and they’d gone straight to the point and asked for a fuck? But as Steve trailed along quietly beside Rob, who jumped and hung on fence posts and low tree limbs the whole way, he found he was more amused than uncomfortable.
Once they could see the hotel at the top of a hill, Rob wandered back over toward Steve, walked next to him in step but comfortably apart, arms crossed.
“You alright with me talking like that? ‘Knock you up’ and whatnot?” Rob asked.
Steve swallowed, unsure how to get himself to speak about this so frankly, and surprised that Rob seemed to have such an easy time of it.
“Won’t hurt my feelings if you aren’t,” Rob said, moved his hands to his pockets.
“No, just—I hadn’t really thought about it. Don’t think I much mind either way.”
“Well, if you decide you do, just say. No sense keeping it to yourself.”
“Of course,” Steve said.
Rob smirked at him, said, “Known my share of cops and the like. So I’m just saying.”
Steve couldn’t think of how to respond, and then they were in the hotel, in the garishly carpeted hall, at the door to Rob’s room. Rob chattered at him while he opened it and gestured Steve in first, but Steve had no idea what he said, just found himself frozen after the little entryway, staring at the bed.
Rob came up behind him, quiet now, and ran his hands from Steve’s waist up under his arms. He stepped closer, pressed his front to Steve’s back, coasted his hands around to drift up his chest. Steve felt Rob’s ribs moving with his breath behind him, felt his shallow exhales on the side of his neck, where Rob had pressed his face. He tried to force himself to breathe too, concentrated on trying to match Rob’s inhale and exhale, but then Rob slipped his fingers under the hem of his shirt, pushed it up slow until his palms pressed bare and flat against his sides.
Steve lifted his own hands but wasn’t sure where to put them, let them fall back to loose fists by his hips. Rob nosed the side of his neck, and his hands resumed their slow slide up his ribs, pulling his shirt with them.
“Let’s get this off you, then,” Rob murmured, and Steve lifted his arms to let him pull the shirt off. Rob’s hands came back quick, slipping rough and warm over his shoulder blades, his spine. Rob grasped his hips, pressed his own hips forward so that Steve could feel his already-thickening cock against his ass.
And then Rob peered around him, said, “Alright, mate?” And Steve just looked at him, feeling helpless. Rob took his forearm, walked backward toward the bed. “Let’s take a beat, yeah? Have a lie-down.”
Rob sat down, back against the headboard, and Steve sat on the edge of the bed, just next to him, shoulders bowed forward taut, until Rob tugged him to lie down next to him, Steve’s head on his shoulder. He took Steve’s hand, set it on his belly, held it there with his own palm warm over it. With his free hand he rubbed Steve’s shoulder, his spine, scratched lightly up the nape of his neck.
Steve relaxed into him, lungs full of the scent of his laundry detergent and deodorant and sweat underneath it, as Rob’s hand roved further, down his spine and back up his ribs. Rob let go of Steve’s hand on his belly to run fingers through Steve’s hair, to rub the bone behind his ear, and Steve slipped his own hand down to the hem of his shirt, felt Rob’s breath on his forehead when he slid his fingertips under it to touch his skin.
“This better, baby?” Rob asked, and Steve squinted up at him a little amused, said, “‘Baby’?”
Rob shrugged. “Rather something else?”
But it wasn’t that he didn’t like it—it just felt like it wasn’t meant for him. Too precious for a man who’d fucked up as grandly as he had. Rob tugged Steve’s lower lip between his fingers again, said, “Hmm?” and Steve shook his head, said he didn’t mind. Not sure I deserve it felt a bit much.
Rob smiled pleasant, reached down and tweaked his nipple, and his thumb lingered after to scrape over it gently, back and forth. “Sweet little tits. We can get a babe on you, but we’ll have to suckle ’em on me, I think.”
Rob shifted under him, and Steve braced that hand on his chest under his shirt to let him move—Rob pulled his shirt up, shoved Steve’s head under it and pressed him back down to lie on his chest, cheek to skin.
“Suck, baby,” Rob said, his already-low voice muffled through the shirt. By then Steve was past protesting, past thinking much at all other than warm skin under his hand and his head hidden and close against a muscled chest and that gravelly voice telling him what to do. He nuzzled at Rob’s chest until he found his nipple with his mouth, felt Rob’s fingertips dig into his ribs when he licked it tentatively. And then he took a breath and sucked, working his tongue until Rob’s nipple hardened to this little thing in his mouth, perfect to take gentle between his teeth.
Rob’s breath hitched and deepened, and Steve slung a thigh over his legs, sighed shaky when Rob pressed a knee hard against his dick. Steve rutted against him, brought his hand up to toy with Rob’s other nipple, and then Rob was sitting up under him, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. He set his face against Steve’s neck, breathed up to his ear, murmured, “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Held Steve still by the ribs as he squirmed, then pulled back grinning to look at him.
Steve grabbed his face, dug fingers into those dimples, kissed him, breathing unsteady at the soft shock of a new mouth. Rob laughed into the kiss, at Steve’s sudden agency or just because he was Rob, and Steve cut him off with teeth on his lip, tongue in his mouth. Rob leaned back again to rest against the pillows, slow enough that Steve could settle against his chest, between his legs, without breaking the kiss for longer than a moment.
Rob slid his hands down Steve’s bare back to his ass and squeezed, rolling their hips together, and Steve’s shoulders began to shake where he’d braced up over him, shot through with adrenaline. He ducked down to suckle again at each of Rob's tits until they were tight and puffy from his attention, and Rob rubbed his back all the time, squirming and panting under him. When Steve rested his head on his chest to breathe Rob stretched his neck back, relaxing into the pillows, and watched him, catching his breath with a soft smile on his reddened mouth.
“You ever been eaten out before?” Rob asked.
Steve frowned at the pillow next to Rob’s head, unwilling to admit that he hadn’t been, unwilling to admit he’d never been able to bring himself to ask for it.
Rob smirked. “Seem like the type to keep things shut up tight, is all.”
Steve hesitated, said, “We really don’t need to go through all that, mate.”
“Baby,” Rob said, patting his cheek. “I’ve got five on my wife, yeah? Trust me when I say it’s part of the process.”
Steve bristled a bit at Rob’s assertiveness but at the same time it was nice, wasn’t it, not having to direct things himself. So he nodded, so slightly it was probably hardly perceptible, but Rob caught it all the same, slapped Steve’s hip and said, “Ass up, sweetheart.”
Rob watched, sitting on the side of the bed, as Steve struggled out of his jeans and boxers (he was wearing the purple ones he always wore when he felt sad, but now maybe they'd be lucky ones instead). Rob kept his own jeans on, and Steve wanted to pinch him, to bite him, where his belly rolled out soft over the waist. Wanted to press his face back into the tawny warmth of his chest. Instead he ignored his own vulnerable nudity, reached out and unbuttoned Rob’s jeans, earned himself a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
Rob stood and kissed him, hands on his face, and roughed him to his hands and knees on the bed, slid a hand up his spine to press his upper back down. Steve buried his face in a pillow, then turned to look when he heard Rob shuffling behind him. Another eyebrow, another smirk—Rob’s jeans still on, the fly undone now, and his dick hard and ruddy in his hand. Steve tore his gaze away from it, breathless, shoved his face back into the pillow. Held his breath until Rob swiped a long broad stroke up the seam of him with his tongue, forced him into a quiet gasp.
Steve felt his back curl protective, despite Rob’s hands soothing and urging on his hips, unable to reconcile himself to the idea that a man he’d met by chance at a bar only hours before would want to get his mouth on his ass—would want to know him like this, in a way no one else had. But then he felt a drip on the sole of his foot, and the slick drag of Rob’s cock along it as he shifted back to get deeper at Steve’s ass, and almost involuntarily Steve’s back arched, hips opening up to Rob’s working tongue. Steve got a rough groan and a hand between his thighs, on his cock, in return for that.
Rob squeezed hard at the sensitive head of his cock and Steve jerked back onto his tongue. Briefly Rob’s mouth pulled away, left him cold, and then a fat slick finger smoothed over his hole. Rob bit the cheek of his ass, and Steve flinched, and when he relaxed under a soothing kiss Rob slipped that fingertip into him, slid it right back out again to circle his hole and leave him wanting.
Steve pressed his forehead into the pillow, breathing shallow, and thrust his hips back, begging wordless. Rob eased that finger back into him slow, crooning illegible praise into the small of his back when Steve took it easy and desperate. He’d done this himself rarely, alone, and to have someone else guess that he’d want it, offer it so readily and without judgment, was a heady thing.
Two fingers eased out, and tongue back in, thick and slick, and Steve lost himself in the pulse of it, in Rob’s daring pressing fingers on his balls, sliding up his cock. And then he was unmoored, thrusting back into nothing, embarrassed, and a warm wet hand on his shoulder pulled him to sit up, to look dizzy into Rob’s smiling face. Rob leaned in to kiss him but he turned away, ashamed at the thought of the taste of himself in someone else’s mouth.
But Rob stroked a hand down his cheek to rest on the side of his neck, said, “Don’t be shy, baby. Don’t you want to know how good you taste?” Steve looked away, jaw tight, and then looked back, worked to loosen that tension. Rob smiled, watching his lips part slightly, and leaned in again, kissed him slow. And when he licked deep into Steve’s mouth Steve tasted himself there, and this violent animal thing in his spine stretched and growled. Rob’s breath hitched back, and he dug fingertips into Steve’s ribs, a tickling ache. Rob sat back on his heels and looked at him, grinning, and Steve felt that approval this glimmer in his throat.
Rob turned to sit in front of him, back against the headboard, said, “Come here, baby, and sit on daddy’s cock.” And Steve felt this vicious chill-thrill settle down his spine—his uncertainty about that word mixed hot with a visceral lust for it. He turned his chin to resist, but Rob’s unfailing grin gave him an out: it could all be a game, a joke, if that was what he wanted. This whole affair could mean nothing, if that was what he wanted.
Steve edged forward on his knees to straddle Rob’s lap, sat back across his thighs, still uncertain. Watched Rob’s hand stroke slow over his own cock, watched his face bright and open, taking Steve in as he hesitated. Steve leaned forward and kissed him again, raised his hips while he did it, while he knew Rob’s eyes would be closed, distracted, and took Rob’s cock in his hand, slid it across his hole, inhaled Rob’s growl as he did it. They breathed into each other as Steve eased down, taking him in, and Rob opened his eyes to look at him, rubbed his hips, up to his waist.
“Oh,” Rob said, nearly fucking crooned it. “Good boy. Look at you, taking us so good.” Steve settled down in his lap, taking his cock all the way into himself, so full he could hardly breathe, and Rob’s eyes stuttered to his hands at Steve’s waist. Callouses scuffed up Steve’s sides, to his ribs, down, back up over his belly. And Rob looked up into Steve’s face as serious as anything, hands gripped tight around his waist, and said, “I’m going to knock you up hard, baby.”
Steve was already breathless as his body adjusted to Rob’s cock, so much thicker than fingers, and he didn’t think about how he felt about what Rob had said, just let it course through him as Rob pitched forward to suck on his tit. Rob’s hands on his waist urged him up, and Steve began to fuck himself—raised up on his knees, rolled his hips, working himself into a rhythm on foreign motions. He found an angle that rubbed the head of Rob’s cock hard over his prostate and groaned, earned a kiss in the center of his chest for it, but then he lost that angle, gripped the base of his cock and whined.
Rob grinned up at him, said, “It’s okay, baby, I know it’s hard.” Pulled Steve down with a hand on the back of his neck to kiss him, murmured in his ear, “I just wanted you to see how hard daddy works for you.” And Steve still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, that word in relation to himself, but hearing it from Rob’s mouth, the way his voice tugged and folded in on itself sweet like caramel, the way he laughed softly against Steve’s ear after he said it—those things had him bent, panting into Rob’s neck.
Rob rolled his hips under him, thrusting up into him, said, “Going to fuck you full of me,” mouth humid on the side of Steve’s head. Steve braced a hand behind Rob on the headboard, wrapped the other around his cock, let Rob’s thrusts fuck himself into his hand. His knuckles bumped Rob’s belly, and Rob found his mouth and kissed him deep, sucked on his tongue when Steve licked at his lip.
Rob leaned forward, a hand on Steve’s spine, and rolled him to lie on his back, his cock jostling deep while he did it. He hovered over Steve on one elbow and pulled out, left Steve gaping empty mouth and ass, and rubbed the head of his cock hot over his hole. Said, “Be a good boy and come for us now.” Rob rode him hard then, hips tilting perfect. He braced his elbows above Steve’s shoulders, a hand on his head, and Steve turned his face and opened his mouth wide around his bicep, drooled around it, trying not to bite.
Steve reached down between them to get a hand on his cock, stroked himself desperate and slipping, smothered and fucked and needy. He nosed under Rob’s arm, licked the sweat there, feeling near feral, and Rob’s hips stuttered on a gasp of a curse. Rob caught himself, reset his rhythm, and Steve squirmed under him, fucking into his own hand and up onto Rob’s cock.
Rob kissed his forehead, crooned good boy low and sweet in his ear, murmured it again and again as Steve pulsed through his orgasm, hardly hearing the unconscionably high sounds leaking from his own mouth. Rob fucked him through it, his rhythm growing wild and near painful, and then he thrust deep into him and held, his body a quivering wire, groans crackling out of his throat on caged breath.
Steve lay boneless and empty-headed even as Rob sat up, rearranged Steve’s ass in his lap over his crossed legs. Rob slid his hands up Steve’s thighs to catch behind his knees, spread him wide open, toyed with a finger at his hole as the come began to seep out of him. Rob watched his own work nearly mesmerized, fucked his own come gently back into Steve with that fingertip. And then he looked up, met Steve’s eye and grinned, like he’d been caught, brought that finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.
Rob kissed him on the forehead and got up without a word, went to the bathroom, and Steve felt suddenly out of place there alone in the quiet. He sat up breathing hard like an out-of-shape automaton and had just stood to gather his clothes when Rob stepped back in, still naked, his cock still chubby and ruddy, his thighs and belly chafed pink.
Rob’s brow furrowed, his lower lip slipped out on a subtle pout, and he said, “You’re not staying?”
Steve felt his bare chest chill, going clammy, missed more than anything the feel of a body soothed and comfortable next to him in companionable rest after sex. He’d get there again with Jess, he would, but it had been difficult with her for so long, with so much held back between them, plenty of that his fault, and with the ache of her infidelity still keen. And if sex could be casual—if he could let a near-stranger fuck him, just to lose his mind for a little while—then why couldn’t a companionable rest be an extension of that? If the point of this was just for him to feel better in the physical with another person, he decided, then he didn’t need to feel bad for taking multiple varieties of that physical comfort.
So he forced himself to talk, and admitted what he wanted to himself and to Rob all at once, said, “I’d like to, if you want.”
Rob roughhoused him back onto the bed, pinned Steve still sweaty under him, and said, “Give me a few hours, baby, and I’ll make it worth your while.”