WITHOUT a shadow of a doubt, I knew I was gay when I was fifteen… when I caught a sneak glimpse into that secretive and alluring way of life through a car window in broad daylight.
I, Adrian Monroe—or Addy to my friends and family—was sitting, bored out of my skull, in the backseat of my uncle and aunt’s maroon-colored Toyota that had that awful car air-freshener piña colada smell clinging to the upholstery. Being fifteen, a lot of things bored me, and often. We were stuck in Los Angeles traffic. My uncle and aunt were bickering in the front seat. She said she’d known this route would be terrible this time of day, and he said she barely knew how to drive. Things had a tendency to escalate from there, so I tuned out best I could without my trusty iPod to save me.
That’s when I saw the cab next to our car.
I don’t know how long it had been there, or if it had just moved. But all of a sudden staring at it was all I could do.
In the backseat, just outside my window, were two guys making out in a big way.
It was the kind of action I expected to find in a gay porno movie. Just like the ones I had stashed under my mattress, knowing they were far less secure than Fort Knox’s gold and had probably already been discovered by my mom way back in the day, because sometimes she gave me “the look” that clearly spelled out her bewilderment, concern, and love all mixed up.
Anyway, there I was, minding my own business—until I wasn’t.
I swear my jaw must’ve made a clicking sound when it fell open, and my eyes popped open as wide as the Grand Canyon.
Falling into the shadows of the cab was a guy whose head was thrashing back against the headrest, and I could see only that he was dark-haired and fit as a fiddle.
My main focus was on the other man, who was practically crawling all over him. Hovering, more like. He was tall and sleek, tanned and ripped, every taut, hard-lined, and fine-tuned muscle accessible to the eye—my feasting eyes. Never in my entire life had I seen a more gorgeous specimen of the male gender. Short blond hair accentuated the angular, masculine features of this man’s face. He had golden, dusky stubble that must’ve given the other—clean-shaven—man the beard burn of his life, because the blond guy was all over him.
The athletic blond guy was lapping the dark-haired guy’s chest and suckling on the right nipple. Apparently quite hard, too, and maybe grazing with teeth, since the receiving man shuddered and—I suspected—moaned loudly, because the cab driver glanced back with amusement. The dark man had no shirt on, but the blond man was still dressed in, from what I could make out, a gray T-shirt and blue jeans. All very predictable, but damn, they enhanced his figure in an erotic way that either made my pants magically shrink or my cock wish it was over there playing, instead of trapped in a car with feuding relatives and equally stuck behind the zipper of too-tight jeans.
Gliding his tongue over to encircle the left nipple of the dark man, the blond guy sucked hard, probably bruising. I couldn’t tell what his right hand was doing, but I could guess, since the bucking motion of the dark man’s hips was unmistakable.
As I was busy almost creaming myself, digging my fingernails painfully into my thighs to prevent making a spectacle of myself in front—well, behind, to be accurate—of my aunt and uncle, the blond man opened his eyes, using his fingers to pinch and twist the nipple he’d freed from his mouth.
God, it was so fucking hot I could barely breathe.
All of a sudden those eyes—deep, hard gray, like steel blades and storm clouds and faraway mountains—looked up, dazed at first but then clearing in an instant.
He looked right at… me.
I flinched but couldn’t look away as my eyes widened to the size of saucers. I’d always wondered if it was true that eyes could be magnetic. That they could hold you as intently as a physical touch.
Now I knew.
I wanted to look away from those piercing eyes but was unable to do anything, as my own green eyes were locked with his. It was as if my heart had stopped in between beats, and my breath hitched in my constricting throat. I held my breath so hard I was beginning to see flashing spots in my field of vision.
I was so embarrassed and scared and humiliated… and aroused. Not knowing what I wanted—spontaneous human combustion, or getting swallowed by the earth, or just vanishing into thin air—I stared at the sexiest man I’d ever seen, feeling afraid, lost, and helpless.
Then those thin, sensual lips curved into a wicked, lopsided grin, and he winked.
That’s right. The hottest man on earth winked at me—while I was busy settling into my new career as a Peeping Tom and invading his privacy by ogling him having sex with another guy. Although in my defense, he was doing all that in a public cab in a public street in a very big city. So I suppose I wasn’t being too creepy….
I couldn’t help but wonder why he was flirting with me, considering my appearance was so far removed from his perfect, sexy masculinity that they barely existed in the same universe. I was fifteen, let me remind you, and hadn’t yet grown into a man. My mess of brown hair was like a nest of twigs stuck up in a tree, and being relatively short for a guy—apparently capping out at five-nine—meant I was perpetually trying to prove myself and my physical prowess. I guess that’s why my dad had led me to martial arts when I was a kid, so I wouldn’t get picked on by bigger kids who just didn’t “get” gay. Not that that had prevented me from getting beaten up after school, since I was reluctant to actually hurt or injure people—no matter how much bigotry, ignorance, or downright hatred they displayed toward me. In any case, I may have been on the smallish side, but I had muscles to balance that, and they had already begun to show. And when I grew up….
Yep, I couldn’t wait.
Especially if I had that to look forward to with guys. Absolutely yes!
Kissing the guy’s chest, the gorgeous man I wished were crawling all over me instead kept grinning and locking his gaze with mine. Eyes wide, I stared at the debauched scene that tipped the scales for me about my own sexual curiosities and desires, my sexual self, and as if there were scales falling from my eyes, I felt a certainty emerging from deep within me that had nothing to do with lust. Well, almost nothing. It was a moment of self-discovery, an epiphany of a sliver of eternity opening before me, like lightning from the clear blue sky, a click of a greater machination. A sense of empowerment cascaded over me when the veil of obscurity was lifted, and I knew who I was—and that I was so very gay.
I wanted what those men had. Not just the sex, mind you. I wanted the intimacy, the closeness, the experience of being with a man and unafraid to show my true self. I longed to feel the warmth of a man’s breath on my nape, the grip of a man’s hands on my hips, the hard weight of his body poised above me, the pressure of his cock in my ass. The weirdness of the situation did not escape me as I discovered what kind of animal I was in the back of my uncle and aunt’s piña colada-scented Toyota.
Nonetheless, I examined the spectacular view of two men loving each other physically outside my window, and felt an elation of foreknowledge that, one day, I too would feel that closeness with a man.
So for the first time ever, I smiled at a man in a gesture that was more flirtation than friendliness.
Yes, my expression was a bit hesitant and a lot nervous, but that blond wet dream still smiled back at me, nodding in a greeting of like minds. I felt ripe for the plucking, like a juicy apple during harvest season, and if that guy had hopped out of the cab and jumped into my car with the intent of fucking me then and there, a big part of me would have, without contest, knelt on all fours and squealed with joy.
Yes, fuck me, please.
Sex-on-a-stick naturally—and to my infinite dismay—did nothing of the kind. He kept giving me furtive and suggestive glances through the car windows that separated us while his mouth was busy doing divine things to that man I wished could magically be replaced by me. I wished for time to stop ticking away and space to halt its spinning to lock us into this fleeting second between heartbeats, into this place, stuck in rush hour traffic, trapped in a heated car smelling of tropical drinks. Slipping out of the confines of reality, I leaned my forehead against the window, relishing this vision of indulgence—and clarity.
Suddenly our car jerked, accompanied by an audible sigh of angry relief from my uncle, who was still being verbally harassed by my aunt, and we started moving away from the still-halted cab at my side. Farther and farther, this perfect man disappeared from my sight—and consequently out of my life—until I could no longer see the cab behind me amidst the sea of car tops, and too many of them were cabs anyway.
My erection fading to nonexistent, I slumped back into the seat, sighing quietly, physically exhausted and emotionally drained. As I closed my eyes, much of my relationship and sexual future bid me welcome in the form of a crystal-clear path—and I had this unknown man to thank for my revelation.
I vowed then that if ever I met him again, I’d thank him from the bottom of my heart—and then I’d seduce him into my bed and show him fireworks, shooting stars, and the earth shifting.
Yes. Now there was a plan if I ever heard one. I grinned.
I HAD to blink—twice. Then I blinked a few more times just for good measure.
The one man of my dreams stood right there on the small stage of a dusky nightclub, singing into the microphone while playing a guitar. Not exactly hard rock, but rock nonetheless—and I was rock-hard for both of us.
Those blond strands of his had grown since I’d seen him, when he’d had relatively cropped hair, but this longer hairdo fit him better, in my humble opinion. Curiously, like a visual trip to the past, he had on a plain gray T-shirt, fashionably scruffy and worn looking, and black jeans, also with trendy gashes in them. They hugged his ripped physique like a second skin, but despite his tight-fitting clothes I could tell there must’ve been some softness of features and roundness of form that had since then vanished, because his body had been delineated into a lean, mean fighting machine, further emphasizing the hardness of his figure. Not quite huggable but definitely fuckable, I thought. I had a sudden recall of the way he’d made me feel all those years ago—and apparently he still had the same effect on me today. I suppose if he hadn’t, I would’ve altered my intentions right then and there.
I’d never been to this part of Pasadena before. The location was a popular gay nightclub called Pump & Circumstance, for reasons no sane person would waste time deciphering, but were totally comprehensible to every sex-hungry person. To be fair, though, there was a lot of pump going on here—far more than anything else, I imagined.
Finishing his set with a bang, he—damn, I really needed a name to go with that face and body—swung his guitar to his back smoothly with one hand on the leather strap, and stepped off the stage with an agile leap akin to a gazelle’s. Wading his way through the crowd, he started toward a VIP section separated from the rest of the room by curtains, with a red velvet ribbon blocking the way.
As luck would have it, I stood directly in his path.
Fortunately, I’d had a growth spurt when I was seventeen, so now our height difference was minimal. Still, I was shorter than him by maybe three or four inches. That, however, did not prevent me from stepping squarely in front of him, like a boulder.
“Hi.” I smiled enchantingly as I stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Hi,” he replied warily, and his masculine scent, mixed with a sharp, tangy aftershave, greeted me, even though he already had traces of golden stubble on his chin. I inhaled his natural odor deeply.
“I just came over to thank you.” Good thing I had had time, six years to be precise, to accumulate enough of a reserve of courage for this eventuality—as unrealistic as it had seemed throughout the years that had passed.
With a funny, quizzical look on his handsome face, he chuckled—a bit hesitantly. “Uh, okay…. You’re welcome,” he said, attempting to sidestep me.
I stepped in front of him again, right in his personal space, because no way was I going to let this chance pass me by—twice. “Ask me why.”
Stunned, he sort of stuttered, “What?”
I shook my head emphatically. “No. Not what. Why. Ask me why I came over, being ever so grateful.”
With a baffled chuckle, he said, “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”
“Because you did something special for me when I was fifteen.”
His features hardened, jawline tightening noticeably, and his steel-gray eyes flashed. “No, you’re mistaken. I don’t do kids.”
“No, not like that,” I hurried to clarify, feeling my cheeks flush red.
I guess he was thinking the conversation was veering into too-strange waters, since he paused and then shrugged impatiently. “Okay, look, I’m going to go now so—”
“It was six years ago,” I rushed to explain, all the while aware of his friends clustered behind him with curious, expectant looks in their eyes. “I was stuck in traffic with my aunt and uncle. There was a cab next to us. You were in the cab, to be exact.”
“Me…?” He sounded incredulous and amused at the same time.
“Yes. You were with a guy, and you two were, um, going at it—pretty hot and heavy too. And… you flirted with me the whole time you were with that guy, while I was staring at you in awe. Do you remember me now?”
Recognition flickered in his eyes, like a lighter igniting. “That… boy… was you?”
“Yes.” I laughed and extended my hand in a formal greeting, which he hesitantly took. “Adrian Monroe. Addy, really. Very nice to meet you—at long last.”
His gray eyes roamed my face, as if memorizing it along with the name. “Addy….”
“No. Me Addy. You…?” I waved my free hand between us to get him to say what I’d been longing to hear for years on end.
He chuckled at my impudence. “Zak Roscoe.”
Zak… finally, a name! “Zak….” I tasted the word in my mouth, rolling it around my tongue a couple of times and loving the taste of it already. “Good to finally have a name to attach to the smiling face and gorgeous body that has been the subject and object of many a jerk-off fantasy throughout my teen years.”
Quirking an expressive eyebrow, he grinned salaciously. “Is that right?”
“How was I?” Now I could tell he was flirting with me. He’d let his guard down to give me the time of day—or night, if you wanted to get technical.
“Oh, you were sublime. And I have an amazing imagination, pretty fruitful—no pun intended. The things he has done for me, and with me, and to me…. Oh, the stories I could tell.”
Grinning, he raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. Do give me a for-instance.”
“Well, there was that one glorious summer day we spent in a hot-air balloon. I must say, Zak, you were surprisingly nimble that time. Well, three consecutive times, really. But who’s counting?”
His storm-gray eyes widened with surprise as he processed my words. “Wow, that’s very… creative.”
“Oh, it was your idea, I assure you.”
“How enterprising of me….”
I looked behind him at his bandmates, who were listening to the conversation as if I were an agent whisking them off to stardom. “Hmm, I don’t want to keep you from any previous engagements…. Wait, what am I saying? Of course I want to keep you.”
Chuckling, Zak crossed his arms over his chest, dangling his guitar loosely on his back, and gave me a definite once-over. “You do, huh?”
“For a night, at least. After all, I have some serious empirical research to do.”
A surprised lifting of his eyebrows caught my attention. “You what?”
“Well, it’s not like I’m doing a thesis on sexual practices or anything, but I have all this theoretical knowledge, accumulated over the years. And then there’s… the reality of you in the here and now. I think a detailed and time-consuming comparative practical study is only appropriate here.” I vaguely realized I was speaking very, very fast, as hastily as my rapid heartbeats echoed in my chest.
“After I fared so sublimely over so many years? How could I possibly top that?” Suddenly he grinned. “Oh, speaking of which…. What position do I take?”
“Hurray for me.”
“Yes. You were very… gifted. And agile, and strong, and aggressive, and subtle—”
“Wow. How well-rounded of me.”
“Oh, you had a very well-rounded form, I assure you. Still do. Both of you.” My turn to give him the once-over, and I let my gaze rake his perfect body all over—even as I wished it were my hands doing the exploring.
Zak turned his eyes away, as if looking around to find something or someone to distract him from me—or vice versa. Shifting his weight on his army boot-clad feet, he muttered indistinctly, “Listen, I, uh—”
I wasn’t about to let him go that easily. “Are you still with him?”
With a puzzled frown, he asked, “Who?”
“That guy in the cab.”
Snorting, he shrugged. “I don’t even remember that guy.”
“You don’t remember him but you remember me? Fabulous.”
Giving an exasperated sigh, he shook his head in mock admonishment. “People don’t say that anymore. Not even gay guys. That word has gone through a recession.”
Theatrically, I faked outrage—rather well, if I so say so myself—placing my hand over my chest. “Goodness gracious me. I’m so behind on my studies on Being Gay 101. Now you have to bring me up to speed.”
Tilting his head, he gave a wry smile. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“You’ve kept me waiting for six years. It’s about time you deliver.”
“That’s funny. I thought I already had….”
“No. He had. Now it’s your turn.”
“I can’t tell if you’re talking about me in the first or third person.”
“We’ll have all night to talk about it. Well, correction, we’ll have tomorrow to talk about it—in the morning, after a steaming-hot night of passion and sex. What do you say, Zak?”
“He’ll be delighted to come,” his friends interjected, barely holding back their laughter over the strangeness of the situation. “And then come again. Several times. He’s all yours.” Practically ripping Zak’s guitar from his hands, they made sure he was good to go.
“Thanks a bunch, guys,” Zak growled, scowling at each and every member of his cackling entourage from under his brows.
“Oh, and he’s got nothing going on tomorrow, either. So feel free to keep him all day long.” They called out their chuckling good-byes and were off into the dark haze of the nightclub.
“Awesome. Thanks. I will,” I shouted at their backs, moving away into the crowd.
“So, why exactly are you grateful?” Zak asked after a thoughtful pause that he spent assessing me with his cool gaze.
“Oh, for becoming gay.” I do believe I blushed a little.
“I made you gay?” His stunned expression was so profound, I wasn’t sure if it was positive or negative.
I laughed. “No. I’d had doubts about my orientation way before. I found men’s asses far more fascinating than women’s boobs. When you were flirting with me while you were licking that—”
“Wait.” He stopped me by raising a hand. “You remember it that well?”
“I remember everything about it. It was, after all, the start of my numerous sexual fantasies about you. Yes, there was a lot of licking around the nipple area, as I recall. Anyway, your smile did me in, and I got so hot and bothered I thought I might explode in my jeans.”
Reminiscing, Zak stared off into the distance with a glint in his eyes. “Yeah, thought you looked like you were readjusting yourself in your pants… but I couldn’t be sure.”
“Yes, I most certainly was. Fortunately, my uncle and aunt were as oblivious about me back then as they are today. Anyway, after that I had zero doubts about what I wanted in bed.”
“Or out of bed.”
“Yes. He and I have been very busy in a lot of places.”
“I bet you have.”
“So….” I started slowly, drawing out the word.
“So….” Grinning from one corner of his mouth, he was provoking me on purpose, apparently waiting for me to say it out loud—though in my opinion I’d already done so several times. Maybe he’d missed my subtle clues, I considered—but not seriously.
“Can I have you tonight?” My stomach did a little flip right after I exhaled the words in a rush of heated anticipation, fully aware this was a watershed event in my life. The knowledge that all my decisions had led me here, to this junction of space-time, made my head spin and my heart pound so loud in my chest it deafened the beat of the club music underneath.
Zak studied me carefully. “You’re a little crazy, you know that?”
I shrugged companionably. “I prefer to think of myself as eccentric. So, Zak, how about it?”
Finally, he sighed in resignation. “If I didn’t, how could I ever live that down? My mates would give me grief for the next foreseeable decade. Come on, then.”