Page 26 of Wedge

My body to do. Fuck. Focus, dammit.

I hit another one, and this time the hitch barely registers, just a flicker instead of a full seizure. The ball flies clean and true, right at the flag.

“And there he is,” Stephen says, quiet. Pleased. His hand on my shoulder.

And there’s my full body flush and cock twitch. Fucking praise kink on the damned driving range.

I don’t say anything. Resist the urge to adjust my cock. Just tee up another ball, chasing that loose feeling.

The Friday Fish Fry is hopping tonight. Caleb has brought one of his cute trans friends, James, and they are giggling together like a couple of teenagers. I slide onto the picnic bench next to James, setting a plate full of fish into the middle.

“Who are we giggling about?” I ask around a bite.

James covers his mouth and nods toward a huge, burly bear of a man, full sleeves of tats, muscles bulging out of his polo, the fur on his chest climbing up the V of the shirt.

“Hm,” I ponder. “He might break you.”

James turns bright red, shaking his head. “He’s sweet,” he defends. “I bet he is very gentle.”

“Caleb, invite him dancing tonight,” I prod, knowing Caleb is up for almost anything.

Caleb rounds on me. “So you are coming? Excellent!” He skips over to the giant and does his thing, fearless and charming. The man looks over towards our table, grinning at James and nods his head. Then Caleb smirks and prances over to Stephen, who is sitting with his back to the railing, trying to eat his fish in peace. Caleb flings his arms around Stephen’s neck and says something in his ear that turns Stephen pink, but he nods in agreement as well. Caleb is just a magic little twink. James buries his face in his arms on the bench. I pat his shoulder.

Babylon, land of decadence, sweaty shirtless men and a dance floor I love. Usually. I try to stay near Caleb and James and keep my dancing contained to our little group, but there are some very drunk bros tonight getting very handsy, and I cut out of the action for another club soda. James’ big biker is at the bar with Stephen, maybe sharing war stories as the biker was a Marine as well.

Caleb prances over, leaning over the bar to ask Freddie for a beer. A rowdy group of guys press into us as they go by, and one loses his balance, falling onto Stephen as he stumbles.

“Easy.” Stephen sets the guy back on his feet. “You’re done for the night, buddy. Get a ride home.”

One of his group jostle against my back and I clench my jaw.

Stephen’s hand reaches over me and gives them a shove. “Step back,” he growls over my shoulder. “Now.”

The guy behind me grumbles but backs away. I lift my club soda to take another slug, cool me down. The lime is salty, like Freddie set it down in the margarita salt. Tastes good though, so I slug it down and motion Freddie to refill it.

Caleb tugs on Stephen’s hands, pulling him onto the dance floor again, and I follow.

Song after song, fuck I really love dancing. Gyrating between Caleb and Stephen, I let the beat fill me up, move my hips, and just stop thinking for a while.

Stephen is such a terrible dancer, but he’s trying. Pretty cute, really. I spin around with my back to him, tug Caleb’s ass into my groin and grind. I back into Stephen until he has to take my hips, and I shake my ass right there in his crotch. Fuck, that feels good. Spinning in place, I shove his hips, turning him so his beautiful back is to me, grab his hips and pull him into me. I’m hard now. His gorgeous ass against me…

What’m’I doin’? I can’t grind into Stephen’s ass. Bad Adrian. Bad, Bad.

“Adrian?” He stops dancing and has his hands on my shoulders like he does on the fairway, crouching to look into my eyes. Kind brown eyes. Looking into my soul. I loop my arms around his neck. Such strong shoulders.

Oh, that’s not right either. Not supposed to do that. M’I drunk? Just had club soda.

“Adrian. Look at me.” His voice goes low and flat, the one he uses when something’s wrong. “I think someone put something in your drink. We’re leaving. Stay with me.”

I blink up at him in confusion. I want to kiss him so bad. I lean forward and press my lips to his. Mm, warm, soft. Tastes of beer.

“M’kay, Daddy,” I answer, nuzzling into his chest.

He takes my hand and tries to lead me from the dance floor, but my feet don’t work right. He lifts me, hands under my ass, wrapping my legs around his waist, and walks out, calling out something to Caleb, or maybe it’s to Freddie. Don’t care, he smells so good. That cologne I like right in my nose. Want to suck on his neck. I close my eyes.

I wake up on Caleb’s couch, head aching. I grunt in pain, and he’s right there, water and painkillers in hand.

“Why am I here?” I ask him.