Not only was I an asshole for reasoning like that, but it was dangerous. Peter was dangerous.
I didn’t care. This was it. My heart pounding in my chest, I debated on whether to follow him or sit—or run. I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. Then I got up, leaving a fifty on the table.
Austin’s Epic Intuition Fail
I felt like James Bond or Maxwell Smart— Inspector Clouseau?— furtively glancing left and right before following Peter into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” he asked, briefly glancing at the hand I used to pull him into a stall. I raised my brows and tugged his belt loose once we were inside, door closed. “I thought it was obvious?”
“You want to have sex in a men’s bathroom?”
“Huh? You said…Wasn’t it a signal? Your coming in here? I read online that gay men did that.”
“Yah, in the 1960’s, Austin. Or at a Republican National Convention. Not on the first date in the bathroom of a restaurant. In this century.”
Oh. Oh, well, while I still had the nerve. I sank to my knees and took a steadying breath and grinned up at him. “As long as we’re here.”
“You want your first sexual experience with a guy to be in the men’s bathroom, trying to give your first blow job?” He was more amused than astonished, but both emotions were warring for his eyebrows which dipped forward and then lifted.
‘You said you didn’t kiss. I don’t know. You make me ridiculous. I turn into an impulsive teenager whenever I’m around you.”
He burst out laughing, combing a hand through my hair. “Just relax. It can’t be more nerve-wracking than the first time with a girl, right?”
“I was never nervous with women,” I answered, watching him unbuckle the belt that I’d abandoned. I chewed my lip nervously, pulling pieces of skin off and reaching up to grab hold of his hips. That seemed…I just wanted it over with. Band-Aid ripped off. Gay virginity out the window. Sexual tension eased. “I just didn’t care what they thought. They were a means to— whoa, hello. That’s a penis.”
“That’s a really shitty attitude toward women,” he said quietly, thumb trailing down my cheek.
I knew what he was doing, trying to distract me from my nervous blathering, but all it managed to do was perturb me. “Are you really going to lecture me with your dick waving in front of my mouth?”
Outside the stall, a throat cleared. I stood up quickly as footsteps clicked on the tile and the stall door next to us closed. Peter was holding back laughter so hard his chest shook. “You have no shame,” I told him, and that was when he grabbed my tie and pulled me into a kiss. A kaleidoscope of colors danced behind my lids.
FUCK!
I didn’t register the lip ring at first, or his bared cock pressed against me, there were too many neurons firing in my brain, too many emotions and reactions zipping through my body.
If the guy in the stall next to us made another sound, I didn’t hear it through the blood pounding in my ears. After minutes of his lips pulling and sucking on mine, until my mouth was raw, things slowly came into focus, like eyes adjusting to a dark room; only it was my senses that were becoming attuned.
I marveled that his hair was coarse, not soft as I had imagined it to be. My fingers twisted in the thick strands, locking in place as I held him close. Warmth emanated from his chest as it bumped against mine. He exhaled through his nose and his breath butterflied across my cheek.
Cinnamon and the scent of tobacco invaded my nostrils. He tasted mildly of garlic. That shouldn’t taste good, I thought. But it did. And then I stopped thinking as his teeth grazed my bottom lip.
I parted my lips to sigh, and he used the opportunity to push me against the wall and invade my mouth with his tongue, cupping my jaw between his palms. I had kissed before, but this wasn’t kissing—this was being kissed. No control on my part and only half aware of the whimper I made as he pulled away.
“Your phone’s ringing.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. The heat of his fingers soaked through my shirt as they moved up my sides. I fumbled for the phone in my pocket, mesmerized by his mouth—until he dipped forward. Closing my eyes, I offered my neck to his lips and teeth. “Glass,” I answered huskily.
“Oh, Christ. I don’t want to know,” Luis said. The phone beeped when I dropped it. I scrabbled to catch it, fingers pressing on the buttons before I brought it to my ear again.
“I—Uh. What?” I had to stifle a moan as Peter bit the slope of my neck that led to my shoulder and then stepped back and began tucking in and zipping up.