Sidelined (16 page)

He wound his way through scantily dressed men of all ages, shapes, and sizes to the bar. He wanted a beer and a place to get a good look around before he jumped in. He’d barely taken one sip when the creature dressed in a blue plaid kilt and matching combat boots and very little else caught his attention. He wore a leather sleeve on one arm, leather straps buckled over his torso. The kilt riding low enough over his hips to allow Tracy the vision of the swell of ass. Hard body, sculpted abs, dusted with blue and gold body glitter. His face nearly heart-shaped, he had a bow-shaped lush mouth, a pert nose, and piercing eyes the impossible color of a blue green crayon. Dark hair shaved short on the sides and sculpted into a glittering fauxhawk in the center. A diamond glimmered in both ears. He met Tracy’s gaze and danced just for him. When the song transitioned into another, he blew a pouty little kiss and danced off with some lucky ass leather daddy.

“This place has private rooms.” The voice behind him was like dark velvet. Or fine scotch. Or God, the accent, a little Irish, a little Cajun. He turned to find kilt boy leaning against the bar beside him. “If you’re looking for something like that. Nice rooms. Not some shit hole for a five minute fuck against a wall. But if you’re interested in that, I can do that too.” He pointed to Tracy’s beer and held up two fingers. The bartender, dressed in a pair of gold chaps and a silver thong brought two drinks. No beers.

“And what if I’m not interested in what you’re selling?” Tracy spent enough time in Miami to know a rentboy when he saw one. Maybe that year of interning with the Dolphins had some purpose after all. He sure as hell didn’t get a job out of it, but he wasn’t a naïve country boy anymore either.

“Who mentioned money, honey? I’m free and easy. And horny as fuck. And you are just my type, Sugar Bear.” Kilt boy leaned in, he wasn’t small after all. Almost as tall as Tracy’s six foot six, and with wide shoulders and a very tapered waist. He was as cute as a button. And Tracy wanted to eat him for dinner.

“And what type would that be?” Tracy sipped the fruity drink, the alcohol content alone kicking him in the teeth.

“Big, blond, and can’t take your eyes off me.” Kilt boy leaned his hip against the bar and played with the cherry before holding it between his teeth, his pink tongue wrapped around the fruit, pulling it inside his mouth. And Tracy trembled. Oh hell, yeah, this was exactly what he wanted. Those lips would be delicious. Anywhere he chose to put them.

“Yet you managed to slip up behind me, so I must not have been watching as well as you think.” Tracy offered kilt boy his cherry, holding it out for him. The pink tongue licked his fingers as he took the offering. A minute later he extended his tongue, offering Tracy the knotted stem…oh fuck.

“But you looked for me. And it was sweet.” Kilt boy closed the distance between them and tilted his head up, offering Tracy the temptation of pink glossed pouty lips. “You came to N’Awlins to get laid, cowboy. And I’m very much looking for a wild ride. If you follow me.”

“To a back room. Or somewhere more private?” Tracy wasn’t sure he could survive a taxi ride with kilt boy next to him. He had the most incredible urge to find out what he wore beneath the thing.

“Maybe both. Depends on how happy you make me in the next few minutes.” Kilt boy took Tracy’s drink and gulped it down. His pink lips glistened with drink and gloss, and Tracy wondered if he’d taste as good as he looked. He didn’t wait for an invitation, he hooked his arm around the man’s bare waist and dragged him close, forcing him to look up those couple of inches before Tracy tasted.

“Mmm, sweet. Like strawberries.” He ran his hand along kilt boy’s cheek, scraping his thumb over plump lips. “You are just what the doctor ordered.”

Kilt boy smiled up at him. The colored contacts in his eyes did a great deal to hide what the man was feeling, but Tracy didn’t care. He wouldn’t be here tomorrow to worry about the consequences of a one-night stand. And kilt boy was the hottest piece of ass he’d laid his eyes on in a long, long time.

“Nothing back on the farm like me, I bet.” He took Tracy’s hand and dragged him through the crowd toward a cave-like hallway. The music growing fainter the deeper into the building they went.

“Nothing like you anywhere I’ve been.” He didn’t confirm the farm comment. Because he didn’t like being caught out so easily.

“I am unique. On that you can depend.” Kilt boy stopped against a wall at the back of the cave. Tracy could hear the sounds of sex. Moans, skin on skin. Coarse words. His blood ran hot. Too many years of playing upstanding citizen. Fuck, this was something he'd missed since he went home. “And since you’re wondering…not a damned thing under this kilt.”

Tracy took that as permission. He pushed kilt boy against the wall, and reaching down, he dragged the kilt up one leg until he found a round globe of bare ass. His whole body went rigid with pure lust. “You want it against the wall or is there a private room with your name on it.”

“Slow down, Sugar, we’ve got all night.” Kilt boy walked backward, his mouth not far from Tracy’s, kilt still hiked up until they ended up in a room with a couple making out in one corner and a few people dancing to the music, a small seating area over in the corner. “Semi-private at least. But this will do. Unless you’re in a hurry to get to a happy ending.”

Kilt boy moved slowly, grinding against him. His arms over his head, he shimmied, lips parted, eyes offering Tracy the world. Tracy danced with him, letting his hands roam the cut body and then his lips. Kilt boy tilted his head for the kiss. And fuck, Tracy nearly came in his pants.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart will do, Sugar Bear.” His fingers delved inside Tracy’s shirt, the buttons undone. “Oh, sweetie, that happy ending might be swiftly approaching. You’re hot as fuck.”

Tracy let him guide him deeper into the room, past a sectional with a table and flameless candles to a grouping of tables with chairs. “What is this room?” Tracy found himself in one of the swivel seats in the far corner a lap full of hot man following not long after.

“For private parties.” Kilt boy tugged at his belt, pulling it open. Tracy groaned when his hand found the part of him that desperately wanted release. “Mmmm, Sugar Bear, you are big all over.”

“Can you take me?” Some guys wouldn’t, and Tracy didn’t bottom.

“I’m going to take good care of you, Sugar. Don’t worry about a thing.” He opened the leather pouch attached to one of the straps around his stomach. Lube and a condom appeared. Tracy’s head swirled. He’d never fucked in a room with other people. Once in a bathroom in college, but it was empty. “I’m just giving you a lap dance, sweetie, they don’t see anything beyond that. It’s what I do.”

Tracy dragged the kilt up his thighs until he exposed the straining erection hidden below. “This is for me?” He stroked the vein running up the slender length and was rewarded by Kilt boy’s soft moan and fumbled placement of the condom.

“Since you walked in. I’ve seen every guy in here but never you. I figure you won’t be back again.” Condom on, lube slathered in the right places, he lifted up on his feet, hovering as Tracy positioned himself. He opened his mouth on a soundless moan as he took Tracy inside him. Tracy forgot his own name. He sprawled in the chair, fingers squeezing hard, muscled thighs. The couple in the corner stopped kissing to watch them. Tracy spun the chair so that he didn’t have to see them watching them. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just me and you.” Kilt boy moved in time to the music. Looking for all the world as if he really were just dancing in Tracy’s lap, but each movement drove Tracy deeper inside.

“Tell me your name. Kilt boy isn’t working for me. Give me something to take home with me.” He ran his hands over Kilt boy’s chest, displacing glitter and smearing body paint. He’d look like he went whoring at a strip club when he made it home, but fuck this was perfect.

“Liv. Or Livy. I’ll answer to either.” Liv leaned in to snag a kiss, the short strokes making Tracy sweat. “You feel so fucking good.” He raised up and fell back down, fucking, there was no getting around what they were doing with the increased movement, or the look of pure unadulterated pleasure on Liv’s face. Pretty moans escaped his lips. He licked his lips and leaned in for another kiss. “Want you to pound me. Hard. Against the wall. I don’t care if they watch. I need it. So fucking badly.”

Tracy splayed his hand over Liv’s chest, his head falling back to allow Tracy access to his neck. Most of the body glitter had fallen off now, covering his jacket and chest where Liv pressed against him. Purple bruises ringed the man’s neck, the viciousness of the color chilled Tracy to the bone.

“Who did this to you?” He ran his fingers over the bruises, noticing more on his torso and his jaw now that he knew what the makeup camouflaged. “Are you with someone who beats you?”

Liv’s eyes grew hard, his mouth lost the soft pout, it was almost as if he became a completely different person while Tracy watched. “It’s none of your business.” He climbed from Tracy’s lap, adjusting his kilt to cover the softening erection.

Tracy caught him by his wrist and pulled him back into his lap. “I’m not judging. If you need help, I can help you.”

The laugh was harsh. “I’m a big boy, Sugar, I can take care of myself.” And Tracy had no doubt that he couldn’t. The club kid smirk gone, he’d think twice about fucking with Liv, and he’d sure as hell never lay a hand on the man if he was his.

Tracy nodded, but he didn’t let go of the man’s arm. Instead, he stood up, he didn’t care who saw his raging hard-on. Interrupted sex wasn’t something he was partial too. And Liv looked like he could handle just about anything Tracy threw at him. This was probably how he got those bruises in the first place.

“We’re not done, Liv.”

He stood for a moment, head cocked to one side as he chewed what was left of the gloss off his bottom lip. The shining light from earlier returned to his eyes. As did the party boy swagger.

“Come and get me, Sugar.”

Tracy pinned him to the wall in the far corner, and hooking his thighs, he lifted him off the floor. Liv wrapped his legs around his waist and angled his body to take Tracy deep inside.

“Fuck, God, you’re hot as fuck.” He growled and slammed into the willing body. The room around them became quiet, he knew they watched. He didn’t care. He loved the hot sounds Liv made. Encouraging him to fuck him, harder, faster. And Tracy ground himself into the man until he couldn’t feel a damned thing but hot man. When they were finished, Tracy held him against the wall, because he was terrified of losing him if he let go.

“Come home with me, Sugar,” Liv wrapped his arms around him as he shuddered, riding out the orgasm. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I’ve never asked a stranger home before. But I feel…are you safe, Sugar?”

“I won’t hurt you. I’m not into that kind of sex. Will your boyfriend—“

“It’s over, Sugar, it ended badly. His new boyfriend made sure I got the message. That’s all this is. Me being somewhere I shouldn’t be. Wanting something I can’t have.”

Tracy nodded, he understood wanting something he’d never get. “Take me home.”

Liv never looked the cabbie in the eye. Especially when the old man showed surprise at the townhouse they stopped in front of. He paid the man and gave him a pat on the hand.

“Thanks for the ride,” Liv said and climbed out. The cabbie just stared at the wad of hundreds in his hand and nodded.

“I didn’t see a thing, Son.”

The inside of the house was dark. Tracy stumbled up the stairs, following the smaller man. The room was luxurious in a way Tracy had never known. But he didn’t see a thing but the beautiful troubled Liv as they made love into the early morning. Pausing only to quench their thirst.

“When do you go home, Sugar Bear?” Liv asked when the sun rose to lighten the room.

“Later this afternoon.”

“Where is home?”

“Alabama.” He placed a kiss on Liv’s shoulder and traced the tattoo down his arm.

“I thought I recognized the accent.”

“Can’t escape it.”

“I don’t know, it’s not that hard if you try.” Liv rolled to face him, his green-blue eyes sluggish with sleep. “I’d love to keep you, Sugar Bear.”

“Call me—“

“No names. It’s better this way.” His voice grew soft. Almost sad. Tracy knew instinctively that Liv wasn’t his real name. He didn’t argue, how could he when he slithered his body down Tracy’s and finally wrapped his lush lips around Tracy’s dick? “Something to remember me by,” he said, and Tracy never forgot him.

* * * * *

“I know where I know you from.” His voice was groggy with drugs. Tracy reacted immediately. Sitting up beside the bed, he reached for Levi’s hand. The last few hours had been hell waiting for him to make it out of recovery and into a regular room before the doctors would allow anyone in to see him. Jude had to pull strings to get the family-only thing lifted. “Hey, Sugar Bear, where’s the party?” And he slipped back under while Tracy sat there confused as hell.

The soft laughter that came from the other side of the bed confused him even more. Bowen Murphy grinned from ear to ear.

“That’s not possible.” Tracy said, more to himself than to anyone else. He’d been thinking about that night in New Orleans. But there was no way.

“Was his name Liv?” Bowen Murphy sobered when Tracy shot him a vicious look. “Or Livy? You haven’t lived until you’ve partied with Livy.”