"Alright." I turn my head to wave at Ben, gesturing at Amira when he catches my gaze. He nods back at me in understanding. Switching my attention to Amira again, I tell her, "Go for it."
As well as being Skyline's drummer, Amira occasionally DJs at The Refuge.
Amira beams at me in thanks. She nudges Bo, who turns to her with raised bleach-blond eyebrows. She signs,Come introduce me?Bo dips their head in agreement and allows themselves to be shuffled off towards the DJ booth.
Paige catches the attention of a pretty woman with dyed blue hair and full-sleeve tattoos across the bar. When the other woman beckons for Paige to come over, Paige points at me and Ryan. "You two play nice and don't get arrested for being gay again."
Ryan presses the empty water glass he's still holding to his chest and promises solemnly, "I'd never get arrested for being gay without you."
It's onlysort ofa joke. We've all been arrested at least a handful of times. Ryan and Paige have racked up the most arrests in the last few years, mostly due to their involvement with some local LGBTQIA+ activist groups. Every couple of months there will be a new cause to fight for and Ryan and Paige will help organise protests and rallies. Amira, Bo and I always go along, partly in support of our community, but also to make sure Ryan and Paige don't do anythingtooinsane.
Paige snorts, eyeing him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Better not. Danger's plods would be disappointed. You know they like to score a few queers across the spectrum, otherwise, they don't get the full points."
Ryan laughs, loud and low. He has a deep rumbling voice. I like hearing him talk, especially when we're in bed together. His voice can soothe me and set my body buzzing, the deep timbre vibrating across my skin like ripples of heat.
Paige wanders off towards the blue-haired woman. I give it half an hour at most before she convinces her quarry to leave with her and find whichever one of their beds is closest. Paige is a fast worker, better at picking people up than any of us.
With all distractions gone, Ryan puts his empty glass down on the bar and fixes me with an intense stare. I try my best not to get hard under that stare, but it's a struggle. We've been together for years now and we're well-attuned to each other's body chemistry. It doesn't take much more than a look these days to set us off.
"You think." He plants his hands down on the bar, still gazing at me intently. "That motherfucker of a boss will let you take a break to dance with me?"
His 'dance with me' is code for 'fuck around in a toilet stall'.
I raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms over my chest. "Not much point dancing in the bathroom by ourselves."
Ryan's eyes drag up and down my body, and it’s like a lick of fire scrapes up my spine. Shit. I'm already half-hard thinking about having his large hands and hot mouth on me.
"No point? Why? Because no one else will see you slutting around in those shorts?" He looks pointedly at my groin. The shorts hide absolutely nothing, and he knows that. If I get a full erection, everyone will be able to see it clearly outlined in the fabric.
"Maybe I want people to see me." I shrug. "Maybe I want to show off for strange men."
Ryan's jealousy has claws ready to maim, the unfiltered emotion hooked and mean around the edges. A blast of purewanthits me solidly in the chest. Ryan leans in closer and I drift toward him helplessly, like a piece of seaweed dragged around by the ocean's current.
"You playing with me right now, princess?" he asks in a hushed rumble. "Trying to make me mad at you?Foryou?"
I jerk forward a bit extra in response to the nickname. He knows how it affects me when he calls me that and seems to take great pleasure in wielding its power.
I tilt my head, pretending to consider his question, staring into his eyes, entirely captured by them, held in place by the intensity emanating off him like heat from boiling water. "Maybe I just want to share the love."
Ryan moves so fast he's practically a blur, his hand shooting out to grasp my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His grip is punishing, a playful reprimand for teasing him so wantonly.
He bares his teeth at me like a wolf after having caught its prey. "That's not very nice, princess." He sounds mournful. "To make people think they have a shot when we both know the truth; that you're mine. That you've always been mine. Since the second you let me my tongue take your mouth and my cock inside your hole. Since you marked yourself as mine." His eyes drop down to the spot where his name is tattooed on my skin underneath my t-shirt.
"Like a child writing their name on a toy?" I ask wryly, although it comes out huskier than I intended.
Ryan's hold tightens and his answering smile is brutally unapologetic. "Is that what you are, then? My toy? My doll. A pretty princess doll I found on the street and took to bed with me every night after?"
"It was a mattress," I remind him breathlessly. I've already lost the battle with my erection. It's straining against my shorts.
Ryan laughs, deep and gritty. It sends a shiver rocking through my body, bowling me over with its strength. "I fucked you on that mattress for the first time a couple of years after the night we met, under the stars, you on your back, my fingers locked in yours above your head. Being inside you felt like finding the shore after being marooned at sea. With you, I was finallyhome."
My breathing hitches. Then there's a feeling like a vice around my chest and ribs, crushing the life out of me.
"I remember," I tell him, too quiet and real for a public space. Suddenly, I want us to be alone. I want to be wrapped around him, his mouth on my neck and his cock slamming into me over and over again.
As if conjured by my thoughts, Ben appears beside me. Too close. He lifts his hand to touch my shoulder. Ryan releases my chin and glares at Ben's raised hand like the appendage itself has done something to personally offend him.
"I will break that shit," Ryan all but snarls. "I swear to fuck."
