ONE
Reeve
Strumming his guitar softly, Reeve Jenkins caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. Reeve carefully tuned the Gibson 6-string as he surreptitiously watched the man he’d been eyeballing earlier slide back into his seat with a scowl. The familiar rhythm of tuning and warming up for a show was so automatic by now Reeve could do it with half a mind elsewhere.
Reeve couldn’t say exactly why he’d been watching this guy or when he’d started, but his gaze kept returning to him. He was slouched in his seat, and he’d already polished off a bottle of beer and was quickly working his way through a second. His slumped posture, glowering expression, and pained eyes told Reeve he was an unhappy man.
Despite that, he was handsome, with shaggy, dirty blond hair drawn back at the nape of his neck and stubble highlighting a strong jaw and square chin. His shoulders were broad, and from what Reeve could see, his body was long and lean. He was dressed in a well-worn pair of jeans, boots, and a black, long-sleeve t-shirt that fit his body snugly. When he downed the rest of his second beer, his Adam’s apple bobbed. Reeve shifted on the stool, feeling the pressure against the fly of his jeans at the mental image of the stranger swallowing Reeve’s cock to the base.
The question was, would he be open to that?
The man signaled for another beer, and his interaction with the waitress was cool and distant despite her attempt to flirt with him. Reeve couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or not. Gay or just in a shitty mood? Even if he were attracted to men, Reeve wasn’t sure how far he’d get; this guy hardly looked like he was eager for company. If Reeve hadn’t been set to play soon, he would have already been at the guy’s table flirting, but performing would hopefully give Reeve a chance to suss him out a little better. And seduce him with his voice. Reeve grinned down at his guitar. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd done that.
Done tuning, Reeve half-listened when the bar manager announced that the show was about to begin and looked out at the crowd. Aces was a shitty dive bar on the outskirts of Pendleton Bay, Michigan, and the seats were only half-full. Reeve was a no-name singer and guitar player who picked up random shows. He wasn’t trying to make a career of it, but he loved playing, and the occasional gigs were enough to satisfy his need to perform.
Lukewarm applause greeted Reeve when the manager stepped aside. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the most enthusiastic crowd. Still, he’d take what he could get.
Reeve adjusted the mic on the stand. “Good evening. I’m Reeve Jenkins, and my first song of the night is going to be Heart of Gold by Neil Young.”
As Reeve began to play, the man he’d been eyeing earlier glanced up and met his gaze. His stiff posture slowly relaxed as Reeve strummed the familiar chords, and they exchanged glances throughout the set.
He really seemed to like the late 1960s and early ‘70s songs Reeve covered, and as Reeve transitioned from I Put a Spell on You to Sweet Jane, the stranger leaned forward in his seat, watching more intently. Something passed between them, some connection, and Reeve suppressed a triumphant smile. Excellent. Now, he was even more determined to talk to him after he was done performing.
Reeve’s final song was by Bruce Springsteen, and he made sure to look right at the blond-haired man when he crooned the final lines about being on fire.
A smattering of enthusiastic applause wrapped up his set. That was pretty good for Aces, which had a crowd that was more known for their heavy drinking than their appreciation of music. Reeve must have really nailed it tonight. He stowed his guitar in its case, stashed it out of the way backstage, then walked out into the front of the bar. A band was setting up as Reeve approached the object of his interest. He was nursing a bottle of beer—his third or fourth, Reeve wasn’t sure which—and Reeve hoped the guy could handle it.
Reeve raised an eyebrow as he reached for the chair opposite him at the little table. The guy nodded once, slowly, his gaze never wavering.
Reeve slid into the chair, then held out his hand. “Reeve Jenkins.”
The stranger chuckled but didn’t reach over to shake. “I figured that out from your intro. Good show, man.”
His speech was low and slow, with a seductive hint of a southern drawl that had Reeve eager to hear him whisper dirty, dirty things in Reeve’s ear as he fucked him from behind.
“Thanks.” Reeve motioned for the waitress and ordered a beer. The as-yet-unnamed stranger shook his head when Reeve offered to buy him one.
“I’ll take water, though.”
“I’m glad you liked the set,” Reeve said once the waitress was gone.
“I did. You’ve got a great voice.” His posture still seemed wary, and his expression was neutral.
Reeve pressed. “I didn’t catch your name.”
He raised a single eyebrow and gave Reeve a crooked smirk that made dimples pop out on his cheeks. “Didn’t give it, but you knew that. It’s Grant. Grant McGuire.”
“Very nice to meet you, Grant.” Reeve held out his hand again, and this time Grant took it, his palm cool and damp from the bottle of beer, the back of his hand warm. His handshake was firm though, and his skin felt good against Reeve’s. It seemed like they were both a little reluctant to let go, so Reeve pressed on.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About your show? Sure. I liked the Van Morrison song you did. One of the best covers I’ve heard of Someone Like You.”
Reeve shook his head and leaned back in his seat, only half-aware of the waitress bringing their drinks. “Thanks.” He nodded absently and took the bottle. “And, thank you, Grant. But I meant why you’re morose and drowning your sorrows in umpteen bottles of beer tonight.”
Grant raised an eyebrow again. “You sure don’t mince words.”
“Do you want me to?” Reeve asked, amused.
Grant shrugged. “I don’t particularly need to spill my guts to a stranger tonight. If I had, I would have sat at the bar and unloaded on the bartender.”
“Come on,” Reeve coaxed with his most charming smile. “What do you have to lose?”
“Fine. I ended a relationship.”
“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
Grant cracked a smile, but pain lurked behind his eyes. “I loved her. But she needed something I couldn’t give her. I ended it because I knew it was best in the long run, but it hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“I’m sorry,” Reeve said honestly. “But at least you ended it before it dragged out even longer.”
“There is that.”
“So, did you just come to this bar to drink away your troubles, or were you looking for something else?” Reeve asked, trying to get a feel for Grant. Apparently, Grant had an ex-girlfriend, but given the looks he’d been shooting Reeve, there was definitely some attraction there. And if Reeve was lucky, looking to get laid tonight.
Grant shrugged. “Mostly the drinks. Although, I was glad to see they had some musicians playing. I was surprised when I heard you sing. You’re better than I expected.”
Reeve gave him an amused grin. “Thanks, I think.”
“Naw, you know how it is. Half the people who play in places like this can’t carry a tune to save their life.”
“True,” Reeve agreed, taking another drink of his beer.
“You do this for a living?” Grant asked.
“Nope. This is just for fun. Actually, my brother and I own a music shop over on First Street.”
“Huh, I figured you were from out of town and passing through or something,” he said.
“Nope, I grew up here. You?”
Grant shrugged. “Moved to Michigan for a job in Fort Benton six years ago. My family is originally from Tennessee.”
“So I gathered from the accent.”
He chuckled and drained his water. “There’s no hidin’ that, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Reeve said flirtatiously. “In fact, I can think of a few things I’d really like to hear you say.”
Grant quirked the eyebrow again. “What are they?”
“Words definitely not suited for polite company.”
Grant glanced around and shook his head. “I wouldn’t call the crowd here at this bar polite company.”
Aces wasn’t too rough, but it wasn’t a gay bar either. Not unfriendly, but not exactly friendly either. Reeve shrugged and decided to lay it all out there. “Well, definitely not the kind of crowd who wants to hear two men talking dirty to each other either.”
Grant smirked. “Where did you have in mind?”
“My place. How about you come home with me and let me see if I can make you forget all about your recent breakup?”
“I’m not sure I’d be very good company tonight.” The smirk became a bitter little twist of his lips.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?” he asked wryly.
Reeve gave Grant his most winning smile. “I try to keep on this side of charming. If you want me to back off, just say the word.”
Grant stood abruptly and nodded toward the door. “What the hell. Why not?”
Reeve stood, too, but a bit more slowly. “Now if that isn’t the least enthusiastic response to asking someone to come home with me I’ve ever gotten, I don’t know what is.”
Grant grimaced. “Sorry, I’m rusty at this. I don’t remember all the dance steps.”
Reeve grinned. “I’m pretty good at dancing; I’ll be happy to show you all the moves you’ve forgotten. And maybe a few you’ve never tried.”
Grant stepped closer, his expression lightening. “You think you can teach me something new, huh?”
“Maybe. Even if I can’t, it’ll be fun trying,” Reeve said huskily.
The corners of Grant’s lips curled up in a grin, and his eyes brightened. “Now that I believe.”
Up close, Reeve could smell the subtle allure of Grant’s cologne. It made Reeve want to bury his nose right up against Grant’s neck and twist his fingers into his hair. He settled for slowly wetting his lips with his tongue. Grant’s gaze followed his every movement. When his breath stuttered, Reeve suppressed a grin then stepped back. “Let me get my guitar, and we can head out.”
Grant nodded, something a little dazed and surprised in his eyes as he turned to the bar. Reeve hustled backstage to grab his belongings. Clearly, there was an attraction there, but Reeve was still half-afraid that when he returned carrying his guitar, Grant would be gone.
Thankfully, he found Grant leaning against the bar, elbows planted firmly on the scarred top, and a booted foot drawn up on the rung. The way he stood stretched the material of his shirt across his pecs, and Reeve had the urge to press his palms to them and feel the hard planes of his muscles.
Reeve sauntered over to him, letting his walk become a looser-hipped swagger. “You ready?”
“Mmmhmm.” One corner of Grant’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “I think I am.”
They went through the usual talk of assessing each other’s sexual health as they walked out into the parking lot. It saved them an awkward conversation in bed later, and Reeve was grateful he was fully stocked with condoms and lube; nothing killed the mood like running out mid-fuck.
He gave Grant his address so he could follow Reeve to his apartment. It was nothing special, just a decent one-bedroom place on the north side of Pendleton Bay where he’d lived for about a year. Mostly, he liked not having to deal with the bullshit of roommates on the rare occasion he took someone home.
Reeve pulled into his designated spot as Grant parked a few rows down. Grant followed him into the building, up the stairs, and into his place. Reeve heard the door click shut behind him as he walked into the living room, tossing his keys and wallet onto the coffee table in a habit so ingrained he didn’t think twice.
Reeve leaned his guitar against the wall, then turned to Grant. “Want a beer?”
Grant shook his head and stalked toward Reeve. There was something predatory in his walk and gaze that made Reeve’s stomach tighten and his cock twitch. The time for talking was clearly over. Grant didn’t stop until he was pressed right up against Reeve, one hand on his back and the other cradling his head. His lips were soft but eager, and Reeve closed his eyes, glad to see Grant had lost whatever reluctance he’d felt before. Grant didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue into Reeve’s mouth, tasting faintly of beer and a cigarette he’d smoked on the way over.
Reeve tangled one hand in Grant’s hair, deepening the kiss. He wrapped the other around Grant’s hip and tugged him close. Reeve was dying to learn the way he’d move against him. When they pressed together, cocks brushing through the layers of fabric, Grant made a low, throaty sound. Reeve kept their lips connected as he moved his hands up under Grant’s shirt, exploring all his hot, smooth skin. Skimming the shirt up over his chest, Reeve grazed his nipple with the side of his hand. Grant let out a strangled gasp of pleasure and ground their hips together harder. At that, Reeve tore his lips away so he could pull Grant’s shirt off. He raised his arms to help, his gaze glittering hungrily.
The moment they were both stripped to the waist, they pressed their lips against each other again, eager and rough. This time, the kiss was harder, more frantic. Reeve backed up toward the couch until it hit the backs of his knees and fell onto it, one finger in the waistband of Grant’s jeans, tugging him down. More controlled, Grant lowered himself, their booted feet tangling together as their hips met and their bare torsos pressed together. Grant's skin had a light, golden tone, and it felt scorching hot against Reeve’s. The rough, deep kisses continued as he ground down, the pressure making Reeve’s cock weep and an ache build in his balls.
Fuck, it had been too goddamn long since he’d been with someone. With Grant tugging at his hair and leaving wet kisses on his jaw, Reeve could hardly think straight enough to remember who it was he’d been with last. A woman, he thought hazily. Fun redhead—explosive in bed, but a little too clingy out of it. Reeve ended things after a few times together. His cock had missed her, but the rest of him sure hadn’t.
“What are you thinking about?” Grant asked roughly, the vibrations of his voice against Reeve’s throat sending another wave of lust through him.
“Trying to remember the last time I got laid,” Reeve said a little breathlessly, pressing a hand to the nice swell of Grant’s ass, forcing their hips together. He let out a groan at the increased pressure on his dick.
“And?” Grant prompted, grazing his teeth across Reeve’s Adam’s apple. Reeve swallowed convulsively.
“Too fucking long ago. In fact, if you’re not careful, I’m going to come in my fucking pants.” Reeve groaned again and shifted. He was way too close to the edge.
Grant immediately pulled back, reaching for Reeve’s belt buckle. “I’d rather you come in my mouth.” Grant made quick work of the metal clasp, and without removing the belt, unbuttoned the fly of Reeve’s jeans. Reeve raised his hips, and Grant hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers then pushed downward, but everything got tangled up when he reached his ankles.
“Shit, wait.” Reeve sat up, chuckling. “Fucking boots,” he grumbled as he hastily untied the laces and yanked one off his foot. “Keeping me from having your mouth on my cock.”
“Tell me about it,” Grant muttered, struggling with his own, and Reeve couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. Grant looked over and grinned. It was the first true amusement Reeve had seen on his face, and Reeve laughed harder. Grant joined in, too, laughing together at the absurdity of the moment. The mood went from charged to something lighter, more relaxed. A sense of camaraderie suffused the air as they both finally got their boots off and looked at each other again.
They reached for each other simultaneously, until Reeve was pressed to the cool, smooth leather of the couch again. Grant hovered over him and closed a hand around Reeve’s length. The low, rumbling groan that tore from his chest grew louder as Grant began to stroke. Reeve loved women, but there was something about a man’s larger hand, the firmer grip, the way a guy knew precisely where to focus the attention; they all combined to push him right to the edge.
“Thought you wanted me to come in your mouth,” Reeve said roughly.
Grant smirked. “Oh, I do.”
“Then you better get your fucking mouth on my dick because I’m way too close,” Reeve growled.
Grant released him and slid down the couch to settle with his head between Reeve’s thighs, propped up on one elbow. Reeve widened his legs, drawing one knee up so his foot rested flat against the couch. Grant began with Reeve’s balls, his fingers hot as he gently cupped and rolled them in his palm.
“Christ,” Reeve groaned, clenching his eyes tightly closed as he reveled in the feeling. Grant dragged his teeth across Reeve’s inner thigh before his hot breath ghosted across his cock. With no warning, he swallowed him. He didn’t deep-throat Reeve, but it was damned close, and the feel of his dick suddenly engulfed in the shockingly warm wetness sent a shudder through Reeve’s body.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Reeve gasped when Grant began to slide his mouth up and down. He moved smoothly, easily; sucking, flicking, and tapping with his tongue, using his hand on Reeve’s balls, tugging and rolling them expertly. Reeve slammed one hand down on the cushion of the couch and buried the other in Grant’s soft hair.
Reeve’s entire body was rigid with tension, strung so tight he felt like he’d splinter into a million little pieces; needing, wanting. He could hear the wet sounds of Grant sucking his cock, felt the way his tongue cradled it, and the rough ridges along the roof of his mouth as the head of it slid in and out. Reeve’s body burned for his release. He felt it everywhere: in his fingertips, in his toes, but nowhere more strongly than at the base of his dick. It was agonizing and perfect, and when Grant swallowed, increasing the suction, sensation thundered through Reeve. It incinerated him, burned away everything but the pleasure. Time seemed to slow. He could focus on nothing but the feel and sights and sounds of Grant swallowing every spurt of his release.
There was a roaring in Reeve’s head, and his mouth fell open, a hoarse, agonized sound reverberating in his throat. “Fucking hell.”
Eventually, time sped back up, and he became aware that he gripped Grant’s hair tightly. He loosened his hold, stroking the soft strands in gratitude as Grant lifted off, making one last slow, sweet stroke of his mouth up the shaft, then curling over the head before letting him go with a press of his lips to the tip.
“Jesus, Grant. That was the best fucking head I’ve ever gotten.” Reeve’s body still trembled, every muscle gradually loosening as the tension seeped out of him.
Grant sat back, a smug little smirk playing across his face. “And here I was thinkin’ you were supposed to be teaching me some new moves. Seems to me like it’s reversed.”
Reeve sat up, bracing his arms on the couch. “I suggest we move this to the bedroom then because it’s about time I deliver on my promise.”
Locked together, hands roaming and lips meeting, they stumbled through the apartment. Grant gripped Reeve’s bare ass and ground against him as they passed the kitchen. Reeve lurched over to the table, bending Grant backward over it as he ravaged his mouth. When the pressure of his renewed erection was too much to handle, he tore his mouth away and stepped back. He stripped Grant out of his jeans and boxers before pushing him down into a chair.
Reeve knelt on the floor at his feet and nipped at his inner thighs, grazing them with his teeth, teasing him the way he’d teased Reeve earlier. Burying his nose against the crease of Grant’s leg, Reeve inhaled the faint, musky scent of his skin mingling with something clean and soapy. He moved his mouth to Grant’s sac, placing soft, wet kisses across it. When Reeve gripped his dick, Grant moaned lowly and his head fell back, lips parted. Reeve made a few slow, experimental strokes with his hand, and Grant’s thighs tensed. Their dicks were close in size, although the head of Grant’s flared wider, and Reeve shivered with anticipation at the thought of Grant pushing inside him.
Reeve sat up, stretching to reach Grant’s chest as he continued to stroke with his right hand. He brushed his left thumb over one nipple while he used his mouth to tease the other. As Reeve continued, Grant’s cock twitched in Reeve’s hand, and his chest rumbled with a groan. By the time Reeve switched sides, Grant was panting and squirming in the chair. Reeve was still on his knees, stretched out over him, and stroking became awkward with the limited space between their bodies.
Reeve lowered to take Grant’s cock in his mouth. He took Grant in as far as he could before drawing back to tease the head with his tongue. Grant was sprawled in the chair, his hands gripping the edge of the seat. The corded muscles of Grant’s thighs and the lean definition in his stomach stood out as his body tensed. Grant threaded a hand through his hair, encouraging him, and Reeve closed his eyes, allowing Grant to guide him. He wasn’t rough, using just enough pressure to set the pace, and Grant moaned when Reeve took him a little deeper. Loving the way he responded, Reeve eagerly continued until Grant pushed him away with a tortured-sounding groan. Reeve sat back, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
“Bedroom?” he asked quizzically.
Their gazes locked, and Grant’s expression made Reeve shiver with anticipation. “No. Kitchen table. I want to fuck you, now.”
Reeve hurriedly got to his feet and had hardly straightened before Grant spun him and bent him over the table, running a hand down his spine. Reeve moaned at the graze of Grant’s cock across his ass cheek.
“Shit. Where are the condoms and lube?” Grant asked roughly. “I can’t wait any longer.”
“Over there,” Reeve pointed across the kitchen. “Top drawer.”
Grant strode over and yanked it open, fishing them out before slamming the drawer closed with a solid thud. He swiped a towel from the counter on his way back to the table. “You’re going to have to tell me why you keep them in here.”
Reeve grinned and twisted his head to watch Grant. “It’s a long story.”
“After, then.” Grant ripped open the condom wrapper and skillfully sheathed himself.
Reeve heard the sound of a bottle opening and then a cool, wet finger slid between his cheeks. Reeve widened his stance. Grant slid his finger across Reeve’s entrance, moving over it teasingly before applying gentle pressure. He pushed in a little way, giving Reeve a moment to acclimate before sinking in to the last knuckle. Reeve moaned and dropped his head to where his hands rested on the table, arching his back so Grant could prepare him more easily.
Grant worked him open until sweat broke out on Reeve’s forehead and he shoved back on Grant’s fingers, begging for it. “I’m good. I’m good. I need your dick in me.”
“Thank fucking God,” Grant muttered. A moment later, he settled behind Reeve, his palm warm on Reeve’s hip as he aligned himself. He pushed in slowly, allowing Reeve time to accommodate, but the moment Reeve relaxed and pushed back, he began to move. Grant’s cock felt better than Reeve had dared imagine, and the fluid rhythm of his hips made Reeve moan.
“Christ, that’s good,” Grant groaned. “Goddamn.”
“I know,” Reeve panted. “Harder.”
Grant pounded into Reeve hard enough to send the table screeching across the tile floor. “So fuckin’ tight.”
Resting his forehead against the wood, Reeve reached his arms wide, gripping the edges on each side so he could get better leverage. The edge of the tabletop bit into Reeve’s stomach, but he didn’t care, too caught up in the way Grant fucked him to worry about it. Reeve’s cock throbbed as one particularly deep thrust grazed over his prostate. “Fuck,” Reeve cried out, shaking.
Reeve heard the squirt of lube before Grant hauled Reeve upright, one arm wrapping around his chest, the other gripping his dick. Grant’s hand was slick, and Reeve moaned at the rough strokes as Grant shoved in again, sending the bottle of lube clattering to the floor. Grant used one arm around Reeve’s torso for leverage, as he slid his other hand over Reeve’s cock. The quick rhythm Grant set, coupled with the deep fucking, made Reeve’s eyes roll back in his head.
“I’m gonna come soon,” Grant ground out between clenched teeth. “Are you gonna shoot for me, Reeve?”
Reeve slammed his palm down onto the table, scrabbling for the edge again as he pushed back to take more. “I’m close. Oh God, I’m close.”
With a harsh, rough cry, Reeve came just a few strokes later, feeling like his body was being turned inside out as he erupted all over the table. Pleasure burned through him, white-hot and electric. He clenched around Grant’s cock. Grant let out a rough groan as he buried his face against Reeve’s back, his breath hot against his bare skin. After a few erratic jerks against Reeve’s ass, he stilled, panting.
“Holy fuck.”
After a few long moments as their ragged breathing smoothed out, Grant straightened and gently withdrew. Reeve winced—it had been a while, and they had gotten pretty rough at the end—but he wasn’t sorry he’d still be feeling it tomorrow. That had been a fuck worth remembering. Grant dropped onto the chair beside the table, but Reeve stayed bent over, arms braced on the table, panting.
After a moment, Grant chuckled lazily. “You were right. You did show me a few new tricks.”
“Oh, yeah?” Reeve turned his head to look at him, his body still trembling a little.
“Never fucked anyone over a kitchen table before. And I can’t think of the last time I came that hard.”
Reeve grinned and stood, exhausted and exhilarated all at once. “Glad to hear it.”
