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It doesn’t matter what you look like here. It doesn’t matter if you know them or even if you don’t like them. It’s all about chemistry and feeling.
For the first time since I walked in, I’m actually regretful that I can’t do anything because it sounds fun as fuck. Playing the field without knowing who you’re even playing with. Or, if you’ve played with them before. Hell, I bet this would be a great way to date. No judgment or preconceived notions. Just two souls finding each other.
It’s almost romantic, if you think about it.
The grunting to my right doesn’t sound very romantic, though. Leaving them behind, I keep on walking through the green markers. I hear more sex on either side of me and as my eyes start to adjust, I meander away from the path and find an empty space to just be alone and observe—as much as I can when I can’t see shit.
I feel someone watching me. It’s too hard to make out for sure, but there’s definitely a figure standing a few feet away, and I get the feeling that they’re staring at me—if that’s even possible. Glancing up at the ceiling, I spot the red blink of a security camera on each corner, which is reassuring. They really do try to keep shit safe in here.
I hear footsteps approach before I feel a set of small hands brush over my biceps. “Oh, hey,” a soft voice says as he fondles the muscle through my shirt. He sounds young and he’s definitely a lot smaller than me.
“Move along, kid,” I say, pressing a hand gently against his arm, trying to lead him toward a more willing person in the room.
“I’ll suck your dick,” he says sweetly, still touching my arm.
“That’s sweet, but no thanks.”
“You waiting for someone? I love a party.”
See? Never subtle.
“Have a good night,” I reply, hoping he just gets the hint and takes off. His fingers linger, dragging a line across my abdomen as he walks away, and I let him have his moment. If all he wants is a little touch, then knock yourself out.
But his fingers are only gone for a moment, before I’m ambushed by someone much larger and stronger. I panic, throwing up my arms as a firm hand grips the back of my neck and turns me away from the young guy, pushing me farther into the room. I stumble through the dark, afraid of walking into someone or over something. When I glance back at the man guiding me, I catch the subtle outline of something on his face and realize he’s wearing the night-vision goggles the bouncers wear.
Am I in trouble for something?
I’m about to protest, but I’m suddenly slammed against a hard wall, and the goggles come off his face in a quick swipe. I know this because I hear them hit the floor. I still can’t see him or anything, but there’s no time to try because his mouth is suddenly on mine. With one hand firmly around the back of my neck, he kisses me hard. Delicate stubble around his lips scratches with mine, and when he pulls his tongue out of my mouth, he nibbles on my lower lip.
“Mine,” he mutters darkly, and my cock stirs in response.
Hunter.
I’ve only kissed him once, but I know this move already. I memorized that first kiss. Every little playful swipe of his tongue, I know by heart. I feel for his chest, running my hands over the lapels of his jacket, up to his cotton undershirt and astute tie secured at the top. It smells like him and feels like him and tastes like him, but fuck, it’s so dark in here, and it’s messing with my head. Is he really in here? Would Hunter even do this? Last night was an experiment, and we haven’t talked about it since, so I’m not quite sure if he’s mentally there yet.
God, I want to believe it’s him. And I need to know. So I gently pull away.
“Hunter?” I ask.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, and now I know. It’s him.
I think.
His mouth takes mine again. Letting out a groan, he bites and nips at my entire mouth in a lust-filled fury. I’m drunk on this kiss, like I’m being carried away by a strong tide, and I’m powerless against it. His body is pressed to mine, and I can’t get my hands on him enough, so my mind is overwhelmed as well as torn, not sure if I should be focusing on the feel of his mouth or the sensation of his hard body under my fingertips. Soon, my brain focuses on nothing, just drowning in sensation. Without sight, I am nothing but a pile of flesh and bone and this all-consumingneed.
It feels like we’ve been kissing for so long. Another man more comfortable with gay sex might have moved on by now, but Hunter is still so uncertain. The hand on the back of my neck slides to the front, holding me by the throat as he presses me against the wall again.
Our lips part, and although I can’t see him and he can’t see me, it feels as if we’re looking at each other. Then I feel his other hand drift down my chest, over my stomach, and finally into my still open pants. When his hand wraps around my cock, I jolt and let out a grunt.
Hunter is holding my cock.
It’s just a hand, but for some reason, this one feels better than all the rest. His warm, fierce grip creates a lightning strike all the way down my spine and I shift my hips to get more.
The darkness makes everything so much more visceral. I can’t see anything, only feel, which makes the sensation of his stroking that much more intense. Desperate to show him just how good it feels, I reach for his cock, but I find that his pants are still buttoned up tight. So I use both hands to unfasten his belt, then the button and zipper. The whole time he’s thrusting his hips toward me, seeking out my touch.
When I have his pants open, I dig my hand into his boxers, pulling out the steel heat inside.
He’s not wearing a condom.
