Love on the Rocks (Bar Tenders) (6 page)

Oh, no.

Justin realized too late that he was far too drunk for this. Yena pulled him down, seemingly desperate to feel Justin’s body against him. He hung on to Justin’s shoulder as he hitched one leg up, grinding their naked cocks together. It did feel good, but Justin was distracted. Under him, Yena looked amazing all bare, golden, and wanting, his dark eyes half lidded. But Justin’s cock was simply too lazy to want to play, apparently. And Justin’s arm wobbled from supporting his weight. Even his eyelids felt heavy. The pillows looked so appealing right now….

Worried that he’d nod off if he lay down, Justin took matters into his own hands. “Have you got any lube?” he murmured, raising himself up.

Yena nodded and leaned away to yank open a bedside drawer. When he rolled back onto the bed, he handed Justin a thin tube and a condom packet. Justin tossed the condom aside; it didn’t look like he’d be needing it after all. But he
had
promised Yena a good time. That, Justin could deliver.

Lube in hand, he slithered down the bed until his face was level with Yena’s gorgeous cock. Yena moved his legs, allowing Justin to settle between them. Justin wasn’t sober or patient enough for finesse tonight, so he dived straight in, wrapping his lips around the cockhead and sucking down the shaft. Yena squirmed under him, groaning loudly.

Justin made out with Yena’s cock as enthusiastically as he’d kissed Yena’s mouth earlier. Justin loved giving blowjobs, but he worried his expertise might suffer through the drunken haze. Quickly, he uncapped the lube and coated his fingers, bringing them between Yena’s soft, rounded buttocks.

Justin pressed one finger against his opening, feeling it flex open with the movements of Yena’s body. He took his lips off Yena’s cock long enough to whisper, “Mm, that’s it.” He pressed his finger inside Yena, using his other hand to hold the base of his cock, stroking up the shaft as his tongue darted out to lap at his slit.

Yena’s body shook, his breathing coming loud. Justin extracted his finger, then slid two in together. Yena thrashed back on the bed, his hips pushing up. Justin read his body language and fit his mouth back over the head of Yena’s cock. Inside that tight, hot channel of flesh, Justin hooked his fingers forward, pressing against the smallest spot that drove men wild. The touch produced an anguished cry from Yena, and his release spilled out, thick and creamy into Justin’s mouth.

Justin swallowed, drinking it all. He milked Yena dry, until his body stopped shaking and his cries turned to labored breathing. In the back of his mind, Justin noted—and
loved
—how responsive Yena had been to him.

“Oh,” Yena sighed. “Oh, fuck.” He whimpered when Justin pulled away. “Hey… what about you?”

Justin had already settled in beside him, burying his face in the soft pillow. “’M fine,” he murmured. He blinked his eyes open, managing to see Yena’s face once more before sleep claimed him.

Flushed cheeks looked good on him, Justin thought.
Very pretty.

N
AUSEA
ROLLED
in his belly before Justin opened his eyes.
Oh… shit
. He cracked open first one eye, then another, trying to squint against the bright light of the room. His head throbbed and his stomach lurched. In short, he felt like death.

Well, that’s just great.

Justin looked up at an unfamiliar light fixture on the ceiling, and walls he didn’t recognize. A large drape of material was hung over one wall, like one of those hand-sewn, hippie throws his mother was fond of. This one was red, gold, and black. A white cupboard loomed beyond, covered in pictures, posters, and strange knickknacks. Justin couldn’t focus that far into the room.

His throat was dry, and the prospect of guzzling cold water from a bathroom tap was the most sensible option.
Best get up
. Justin carefully sat up, meeting with a swirl of dizziness.
Bloody wine. Never again
. He glanced down at his bed partner, still sound asleep. Yena had his back to him, curled up into his pillow. His skin was smooth and flawless, the color of honey. His long dark curls were sleep-mussed and laid out on the pillow, black against the pale cream of the bedspread. Justin had an overwhelming urge to lean over Yena and kiss his neck, fold his naked body into his… but as the nausea rolled again in his belly, he knew that wouldn’t be an option.

Either he had to get out now, or he had to find the bathroom.

Feeling clumsy and delicate, Justin extracted himself from the bed. Yena didn’t stir, and Justin was relieved. He picked up the clothes that were his, pulling on one sock and his shirt, then clutching the rest to him as he staggered off to find somewhere to be sick.

Saliva was already filling his mouth by the time he found the bathroom. He shut himself inside, hoping that no one would hear, dropped all his clothes to the floor, and knelt down in front of the porcelain god.

Never again,
he repeated to himself, as he hurled his guts up. All that wine, last night’s dinner… what a waste. He hadn’t actually puked in ages.

Considering he felt so atrocious, there wasn’t actually that much in the toilet bowl to show for it. Only horrible colored liquid. Before he could study it too intensely, Justin flushed it away and pulled himself up to the sink. He washed his face, drank desperately from the cold tap, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

Shit
.

Yena couldn’t see him like this. Justin wouldn’t want his own mother to see him like this, though she had in the past, on many occasions. Maybe… a brisk walk outside. Get some fresh air.

That thought in mind, Justin pulled on the rest of his clothes and snuck out of the bathroom with all the grace of one still drunk.

Either Yena was a deep sleeper or he was letting Justin make a dignified exit. Justin let himself out, tripping over the welcome mat on his way. Okay, maybe not
quite
so dignified. He’d definitely had better mornings.

Get some fresh air,
he thought.
It’ll all feel better then.
He looked around the unfamiliar hall wondering how the hell he was supposed to get out. Wasn’t there a lift? Justin wandered around, lurching like a zombie.

He eventually found the lift, but when it juddered its way down, Justin felt the sickness rise again. He had a minipuke in the lift, no hope for it as he had nowhere else to aim except the wall. When he reached the bottom he hurried out of the tower block and the gate, finding his way onto a street he didn’t recognize.

Where the fuck was he again? Clapham, was it?

Argh
.

He started walking.
Just keep moving, Justin. Walk it off
.

Sometime later, Justin wasn’t feeling much better, but the sickness had passed. He had to be thankful for small mercies. Except now that he’d walked around, he didn’t know where he was. He spotted a bus—the beautiful sight of the familiar red double-decker bearing a destination he knew. It stopped at a bus stop on the opposite side of the road, which meant there’d be more coming soon. If Justin got on a bus to Victoria, he could easily get another bus or the tube from there.

But… what about Yena? It was a bit rude to just take off, Justin supposed. He should at least send a parting text. Justin patted himself down, checking his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. He pulled out his phone, intending to make his excuse-text, then make a getaway home.

The phone he held in his hand wasn’t his phone. In fact, as Justin stared at it, he realized it wasn’t even a phone, it was a white remote control.

What the…?

He stared at it in confusion for several minutes. Had he picked this up from Yena’s bedroom? What the hell was it
for
? And where was his phone? Not still in Yena’s place?

Justin winced and cursed under his breath. Well, that was just the icing on the cake. But there wasn’t much point trudging around Clapham, hoping he stumbled upon the right road and the right tower block before knocking on doors hoping to find Yena again. No, he’d either have to write that phone off altogether, or….

Or he’d have to visit Yena again at the bar. Justin groaned and then trudged off for his bus.

Chapter Five

W
ITHOUT
HIS
phone—which also held his calendar, personal planner, and pretty much everything he relied upon—Justin only just managed to make his Friday night gig in time. Tam was furious when he arrived late.

“I’m sorry,” Justin said, breathless, as he hurried to get changed.

“I’ll bitch-slap you later,” Tam told him. “Just hurry the fuck up and get changed. We’re on in less than half an hour.”

“Right.”

Used to quick changes, Justin went from street clothes to shiny Lycra and platform boots in record time. It was a miracle he didn’t tear the already tight costume. After zipping himself in, Tam helped him with the feathered plumage that fixed around their shoulders and handed him his microphone.

“Don’t forget to turn it on,” Tam hissed, as they lined up near the stage door.

Justin nodded, and then someone caught his eye—a petite, tattooed girl with long blonde curls, carrying several sparkly Hula-Hoops past them. It was Chi Chi, a performer Justin knew. She was dressed in a miniature sailor’s outfit, and she smiled at Justin.

Justin lifted his hand in a wave, but the bustle of backstage didn’t allow them time to chat.

Maybe that was a good thing, Justin thought, as his cheeks heated.

“This is us.” Tam nudged him, catching Justin in his ribs.

Focusing on where they were going, Justin followed Tam, clomping as quietly as he could in six-inch platform boots. The emcee’s voice carried through the venue, amplified through the PA. As the last of a raucous joke died down, she announced the next act, encouraging the audience to applaud.

“Give it up for Dancing Queens!”

Through the applause, the lights quickly dimmed. Justin followed Tam onto the stage, as the emcee flitted off from the other side. They got into position, facing the audience but remaining still. Even in the dark, their costumes sparkled. Justin fixed on a point in front of him and concentrated.

As the first, almost quiet notes of the song’s percussion started, a few whoops hollered out through the audience. Hen parties were out in force, then. They always loved a double act.

Justin remembered to flick his mic on. The song started, and he waited for his cue. The deep voice on the song sang the first line, and Justin and Tam lifted their mics in sync and sang together. The house lights went up, making their costumes sparkle. The song was
Daddy
Cool
, a new opener for them. A great cheer went up from the audience, especially from the hen parties, once they saw it was
men
performing.

Justin grinned easily, moving perfectly in time with Tam as they began the dance. It started off standing in place; hip thrust, sing, and point to the audience. Wink, smile. Piece of cake. The women went crazy. One woman near the front, wearing a pink feather boa, was literally screaming. Justin hoped she’d remain seated; while he didn’t mind crowd interaction too much, he knew it annoyed Tam.

They danced their way through the song, tapping the stage with their heels. The feathers got on Justin’s nerves a bit. He’d have to ask Tam to trim them back, or something. Swiveling and turning, dancing past each other, Justin spotted a few faces watching from the side of the stage. The stage manager, a woman, and a man in a suit he didn’t recognize. Justin hoped it was a booker and he liked what he saw.

He put extra gusto into his performance. When his next cue came, he twirled into position and dropped to one knee in front of Tam. He looked up at his partner, trailing his free hand down his thigh as his face became level with his crotch. “Oh,
daddy
,” he declared, all breathy and overacted.

The hen parties were screaming their heads off.
Good
. Justin hoped the booker, or whoever he was, noticed. Tam’s fingers threaded through Justin’s hair, but not enough to wreck it. They’d practiced this move so much. After a bit more tease and some sultry looks, Tam hauled Justin back up by his hand, turning him around. Now came the grinding together part. It was really quite comical, especially with the
Oh, my goodness!
expression Justin set in place. The act was supposed to be humorous, with a dash of raunch.

On cue, when the music changed, they broke apart with a smile to continue the chorus again. The audience was clapping along now, totally won over. The woman with the pink boa was on her feet, waving it in the air. When their act finished, the applause was enthusiastic.

For a London crowd, that was often the best one could hope for.

Tam and Justin took a bow, then trooped offstage as the emcee returned. Backstage, the stage manager was pleased with them. “I like you two,” she said with a smile. “No props to place, nothing to pick up either. And the audience love you. Wonderful.”

“We try our best,” Tam declared, favoring her with a smile.

Justin grinned and then noticed the suited man approach. “Tam. And Justin, was it? Outstanding show.” He complimented them on their performance, but his eyes strayed down their bodies.

Oh, Justin thought. One of
those
. Whoever he was—booker, agent, who gave a monkey’s?—he was clearly eager to try his luck first. Usually those sorts of guys bought them plenty of drinks, said a lot of sweet things, and rarely did it go anywhere. Justin couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm tonight.

“I’d like to hear more about your act,” the guy said. “I’ll be at the bar after the show.”

Tam was all over this one. Justin recognized his flirt mode activated; touches on the arm, posing on the spot. “Sounds perfect!” he said, beaming a smile at him.

Justin forced himself to smile.

They had another two acts to do yet, so there wasn’t time to hang around and chitchat. For that, Justin was relieved. The suited man slipped away, and Tam dragged Justin off to a quiet corner of the dressing room. “Oh fuck!” Tam hissed excitedly. “Do you know who that is?”