The Way Things Are (10 page)

“We’d kill each other before we ever got into bed, and you know it.”

“Probably, yeah. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.”

Patrick sighed and detangled his arms from Corbin’s grasp. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go see if he’s okay and then I’ll take over the door so you can force poor David to dance with you.”

Corbin pouted. “As if he would.”

“Have you tried stealing his shirt, kneeing him in the stomach, and dragging him onto the dance floor?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Corbin looked sideways at the door. “He’s actually my employee. With my luck, he’d sue me. I know you’re not going to get all huffy if I smack you around.”

Patrick looked back at the burly bear of a man. He had more light brown stubble on his jaw than he had hair on his head, and even in the darkness, Patrick could make out the contour of some of his tattoos. He clapped Corbin on the shoulder. “You got me out there that way, didn’t you?”

Patrick started toward the bar and stopped when he felt Corbin’s fist hit him in the upper arm. “Hey, just in case you decide to take off early, I’ll see you tomorrow at my dad’s place, right? With the kid? I’ve got to get started on that whole godfather thing.”

“We’ll be there,” Patrick agreed.

Ken Atkins turned toward the bar as he approached, but Patrick slipped up onto the barstool to his left. Ken didn’t even turn in his direction. “I was standing over there wondering if there was anything I could do to make this
more
awkward. Trying to pretend I never saw you and act like everything’s normal tomorrow morning seemed like it would definitely raise the awkwardness factor. So I thought I’d come say hi instead.”

“Where is your son, Mr. Connelly?” Ken asked, his voice a low growl.

“Home. Or at least he was home an hour and a half ago when I called to check in on him. I was going to call him again, but I woke him up last time. Since Corbin’s closes in an hour, I figured I’d just wait and check on him when I get home.”

“You left your son home alone, unsupervised, so you could—”

“Earn an extra hundred bucks to last me and Jay until my first paycheck from the Port comes in, yeah. I’m going to have to do it tomorrow too. Apartments downtown aren’t cheap, and for as skinny as he is, it costs a fortune to feed that kid. If he or I want to eat anything other than ramen for the next week, we need the money.”

Corbin strolled behind the bar, wiping down the already immaculate surface with a rag. He pulled the bartender aside and discretely nodded toward Patrick and Ken. A fresh drink replaced Ken’s empty tumbler in seconds, and an opened bottle of water was set in front of Patrick. “Thanks,” he said to the bartender.

Ken took the drink without a word and turned toward him. “Can I talk to you? Someplace quieter?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” Careful not to actually touch Ken, Patrick led him through the low gate behind the bar, then into the small, unused commercial kitchen. Boxes of bottled microbrews were stacked along the walls, waiting to be rotated into the cooler. Small half-filled crates of hard liquor bottles sat beside them.

Patrick headed through the boxes to a small office in the corner where Corbin dumped paperwork into old beer boxes. He held the door for Ken, then let it shut lightly behind them. “This okay?” he asked.

Ken rubbed his eyes and glanced around the cramped space. His blue eyes were glazed and dark, like he’d already had way too much to drink.

“Ken? Is this all right?”

He swayed a little, reaching out to steady himself on the first thing he could reach. He clung to Patrick’s shoulder for a moment, then stepped away, still swaying. He stumbled back against the box-covered desk and stared at him. Patrick followed Ken’s gaze down his bare chest.

Ken shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t… this wasn’t what I meant.”

“You said quieter. This is the only place in the building that’s quiet right now.”

“This is how you earn extra cash?”

“Yeah.”

Ken shook his head, the motion making his entire body sway again. “I can’t believe you,” he said in disgust. “You have a child home alone right now, who needs an actual fucking role model in his life and actual supervision, and you’re
here
.” He gestured around at the dusty office. “I would have figured you’d be a bit old and butch for most of the clientele at this place.”

Patrick opened his mouth to deny that he was there selling himself, then stopped. “I’m not that old. And I am an employee of Corbin’s Attic.”

Ken chuckled. “You work for the club?”

“Yes. I had a shirt, but some vicious little drama queen insisted I dance with him, and he wouldn’t take no for answer.”

“You should have called one of the bouncers. They’re serious guys.”

“Uh….” Patrick scratched the back of his head. “I am pretty sure none of the other bouncers here would have come to my rescue.”

“
Other
bouncers?”

“Yeah. Which reminds me, I need to steal another shirt.” The security T-shirts were in a small, tumbling stack on top of boxes in the corner, next to five bigger stacks of black aprons and towels. He sorted through the T-shirts to find his size, then held it up so Ken could see the stenciled yellow “SECURITY” on the back.

“You’re a bouncer?”

“Just until I get my first check from the Port. And until Jay gets in trouble again and has to pay another fine. And maybe until the owner finds someone else to use as eye candy when he wants to make the guy who refuses to go out with him jealous.”

Ken choked. “That was the owner? The blonde guy you were wrapped around out there?”

“That was Corbin Hollis, yes. Which is why none of the other guys would dare help me. He’s my best friend. He’s letting me pick up some hours here because I’m broke.”

Ken looked at him again, just for a moment, before he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I should let you get back to work, then.”

Patrick caught Ken as he stumbled toward the door. “Hang on, now. I told you why I was here. Shouldn’t you be fair?”

“No,” Ken said. “I shouldn’t be here at all. Not if one of my parents works here, that’s for damn sure.” Patrick wrapped his arms around Ken’s waist and tried to hold him steady while Ken squirmed. When he slumped back against Patrick’s chest, the hard cock straining against the denim of Ken’s jeans made Patrick freeze and nearly drop him.

“Would you let go of me?” Ken asked.

Patrick loosened his grip on Ken’s waist, rubbing soft circles against Ken’s hips with his thumbs. “I don’t think I should let go of you,” he whispered. He tugged Ken a bit closer. Ken groaned and let his head fall back. “Every time you move, you nearly fall on your ass.” Patrick swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth that seeped into his hands through Ken’s polo shirt. “I could give you a ride, if you want.”

Ken snapped his head up, his eyes wide. He looked like he might panic, but he slowly brought his hands to Patrick’s chest, touching him as if he was afraid Patrick’s skin might burn him. “That’s really not a good idea,” he whispered.

Patrick smirked. “God, you’re cute when you’re drunk. I meant a ride home. You shouldn’t drive like this. Or I could call you a taxi.”

Ken shrank in his arms, withdrawing his hands from Patrick’s skin instantly. He smiled sheepishly, and then his smile cracked. “Please don’t mess with me right now. You’re….” Ken looked at Patrick’s chest again, shaking his head. “Your boss keeps you around as professional eye candy. You’re in amazing shape and you’re gorgeous. I’m just an ordinary guy. Hell, I’m chubby compared to you. There’s no way someone like you would actually be interested in someone like me.”

“Seriously?” Patrick tugged Ken close and cupped his ass, making damn sure Ken could feel how turned on he was just from being close to him. “How can you think you’re ordinary? You’re in great shape, your eyes are amazing, and your voice…. You’re anything but ordinary.”

“Please don’t say shit like that. I know what I look like naked, okay. You—”

“If you weren’t drunk, if you weren’t Jay’s PO, I’d have you naked already.”

Ken swayed against him, his eyelids drooping.

Patrick’s erect cock ached at the sight. He stared at Ken for a long moment, trying to gauge if taking this any farther was worth the trouble that was sure to come tomorrow morning. Was Ken even sober enough to remember if anything happened? Would he be angry? Would he be willing to pretend nothing happened either way?

“Why couldn’t you just be another straight asshole?” Ken asked, closing his eyes.

“That’s just too damn tempting.”

“Huh?”

Patrick scooted Ken back toward the desk and set him against it so he wouldn’t fall over. He reached for the button of Ken’s jeans and pulled it so hard the button and zipper both came undone. Ken’s cock was still trapped in his cotton boxers, but Patrick managed to work it free just by shifting the fabric aside. He crouched down between Ken’s splayed legs eagerly.

“What are you doing?” Ken whispered. He set his hands against the desk, bracing himself.

“Indulging a fantasy,” Patrick whispered. “And maybe trying to convince you you’re worth fantasizing about.”

He touched the flared head of Ken’s cock gently, running his fingers down the length to the root.

“If you don’t want me to, just say so.” Patrick waited a moment, watching Ken’s clouded eyes grow wide. “Yes or no?” he asked, smiling.

Ken nodded, panting a little.

Patrick licked the head and ran his tongue down the ridge of skin to the base of Ken’s cock, then swirled his way back up before taking the tip into his mouth. Once upon a time, when he was stuck trading blow jobs with men in club bathrooms on the few nights he could sneak out of the house, he’d been good at this. But three years was a hell of a long time to be out of practice. He ran his fingers along Ken’s sac and kept his gaze on Ken’s face, eager to judge and observe his reactions.

Patrick pulled away and stroked Ken, using slow, languid pulls to keep him hard. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “Hell, just make noise for me, I don’t care.” And then he swallowed Ken again.

As if he’d been holding back, Ken let a strangled cry escape from his lips. “Talk to you? While my dick is in your mouth?”

Patrick hummed around him. He let the salty, musky taste of Ken’s flesh consume his senses, let the sound of his voice flow over him just like it had that afternoon the car. He was hard, and the pressure from his tight jeans made him want to scream. He wanted to stroke himself off, but he wanted to memorize Ken’s taste and sound more.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this,” Ken gasped. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. I came out tonight because I kept seeing your face and your fucking hair every time I shut my eyes.” Ken tangled his fingers in Patrick’s hair, not pulling, but massaging his fingers over Patrick’s head in time with each movement.

Ken’s sac tightened under Patrick’s fingers and Patrick sucked him in deeper. He tore at the button of his own jeans and slipped his hand into his pants, trying to stroke himself inside his briefs.

“Seeing you out there dancing was like something between a wet dream and a nightmare,” Ken said, his voice suddenly a higher pitch.

Patrick smirked around Ken’s cock. He slipped off for a moment, chuckling. “I’ve been called a shitty dancer before, but never a nightmare.” He sucked Ken back in, lapping at his slit before taking him deeper.

“You’re gorgeous. Fucking perfect. But I was trying to get you out of my head, not….” Ken’s eyes squeezed shut and his mouth dropped in a silent scream. Ken’s entire body trembled as his orgasm hit.

Patrick took a deep breath and swallowed a little of Ken’s spunk and then pulled away. He let Ken shoot the rest of his load into his hand, then smeared his palm and stroked every tremor he could from Ken’s body. He licked Ken’s slit one more time, savoring the taste and the last frantic shiver that ran through Ken’s body.

“Oh God,” Ken panted, finally uncurling his fingers from Patrick’s hair.

Patrick rocked to his feet quickly and grabbed a couple of bar towels from the stack beside the aprons. He wiped his hand clean and offered the other to Ken.

Ken laughed at him and batted the towel aside. “We’re not done yet.”

Patrick caught Ken as he dove toward him. He wrapped arms around Patrick’s neck and slammed his lips against Patrick’s.

Patrick braced himself against the stack of boxes behind him and let Ken delve into his mouth, exploring him and sucking on his tongue and lips with a frantic hunger.

Ken traced his fingers along Patrick’s jaw and pulled away. “Fuck me?” he asked, looking up at Patrick with eyes that were clear, if not quite sober.

“Think you can come again?” Patrick said, sliding his hands beneath Ken’s boxers to cup his ass.

“If you’re inside of me, I can manage.”

Ken’s voice sent a jolt of electricity through Patrick. His cock was already straining against his briefs, so Patrick shoved his jeans and underwear down over his hips, just far enough to free his erection. He stroked himself with shaking fingers. “I don’t have a condom. Or lube. Knowing Corbin, there’s probably something in the desk. I can’t think of what else he’d actually use a desk for.” Patrick shook his head helplessly.

Ken chuckled and dug a tiny bottle of lube and a foil packet out of his pocket. “You’re here as security, but I’m not.” He held both out to Patrick.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked. “I wouldn’t mind bottoming. Not at all, in fact.”

Ken shook his head. “I want to, but I want you to fuck me more. Please? Before I come to my senses?”

“Yes,” Patrick breathed. He ripped open the packet and rolled the condom down over his cock. It was snug but not too tight. Ken had turned toward the desk, working his pants down and bracing himself. Patrick squeezed the lube over his fingers and stroked around Ken’s puckered entrance. He shoved his hand under Ken’s shirt, rubbing the smooth skin underneath softly, then slowly inserted his index finger to begin stretching Ken.

Patrick was surprised when Ken’s sphincter didn’t contract around his finger. Ken pushed back against him, and his back vibrated under Patrick’s fingers as he chuckled.

“It’s not like I’m new at this,” Ken whispered, his tone husky.