“Not really,” Graeme said. “My family?—”
“Enough said,” Art stopped him, holding up his hand. “Your family isn’t here, they will never be here, and they will never find out about any of this. So what will it be? Fruity? Fiery? Mellow?”
“I don’t know,” Graeme called over the music.
“Let’s go easy on him,” Ryan said, then turned to the bartender and said, “Apple martini. For someone not used to alcohol.”
The bartender nodded, then set to work making Graeme a frou-frou, pretty drink, even adding an umbrella in the glass.
Graeme sipped it hesitantly, then his eyebrows shot up and he drank deeper. “That’s surprisingly good,” he said, then dove into the rest of it.
“Easy does it,” Ryan said, like a good Daddy. “If you’re not used to drink, even an appletini could hit you hard.”
“And that’s our job,” Art said with a laugh, then finished his drink.
The appletini was a good start in their true mission for coming to Brighton. Art had watched Graeme’s mood shift multiple times throughout the day. He’d checked his phone a few times when he thought neither he nor Ryan were paying attention. Graeme had done a bang-up job of pretending like the call from his ex-wife had never come or like it didn’t bother him that the life and world he’d left behind was moving on without him at lightning speed.
Ryan might have been the Daddy of their trio, but Art knew a thing or two about familial rejection and the need to build one’s own life on the ashes of everything he’d thought his life would be. Which was why, as soon as their drinks were done, he grabbed Graeme’s hand and pulled him out onto the flashing, heaving dance floor.
“Let loose, baby!” he shouted over the noise of the music.
A few of the guys who were already dancing and grinding away, some of them with their shirts off and sweat glistening on their hard bodies, hooted in agreement and turned their attention to Graeme.
“I’ve never been to a dance club before,” Graeme said. He had to shout for Art to hear him, which meant the other guys on the floor heard him as well.
“Club virgin!” one of them shouted.
Everyone hollered, and in an instant, Graeme became the center of the attention of about half a dozen obviously horny gay men.
Ryan went immediately into white knight mode. Art nearly laughed at the fierce protectiveness that masked his face as he moved in close to Graeme, pretending to dance but actually shielding him from unwanted attention. Art doubted any of the guys around him would lift a finger to hurt Graeme, but when he saw the uncertainty on Graeme’s face, he moved in closer, too.
“You’ve got it,” he called out over the noise, grabbing Graeme’s hips from behind and moving them to encourage Graeme. “Just loosen up and feel the beat. No one is going to judge you here.”
“Are you sure about that?” Graeme asked, trying to imitate the way Art and Ryan were moving but not doing the best job.
“Yes,” Art and Ryan answered simultaneously.
Their eyes met, and Ryan grinned. A jolt of lust popped through Art, pressing his semi against the zip of his jeans. Heused that energy to grind against Graeme’s backside, telling himself he was just showing his other crush how to move.
It was a mountain of fun. Ryan got into the dancing, grinding and twerking with some of the other guys in a way that looked ridiculous to Art’s eyes, but also hot. A few more guys tried to move in on Graeme, and both Art and Ryan watched with eagle eyes to see whether Graeme was feeling brave enough to accept the attention.
The shirtless guys were coming on a little too strong, though, so with a quick look and a nod to Ryan, the two of them whisked Graeme off the dance floor and out the door into the cooling night air.
“Let’s try another one,” Ryan said, his voice too loud now that they were outside.
“We can make it a club hop,” Art said, covering up his papa bear concern for Graeme with an impish grin.
There was another club on the same street, and within minutes, they’d gone inside and made their way up to the bar. Once again, Art and Ryan ordered their favorite drinks, then picked something else for Graeme.
“Ooh, this one is sour,” Graeme said, making a face as he tried the new concoction.
“Do you want something else?” Ryan asked, speaking loudly across a different sort of equally loud music to the other club.
Graeme shook his head and took another drink from his glass, face screwed up. “I’m trying to have new experiences tonight, and this is part of it.”
Art’s heart squeezed hard. His innocent little snail was trying so hard to come out of his shell. It was the most adorable and endearing thing Art had ever seen, and it made the things that were pulsing inside him for Graeme throb that much harder.
They joined the crowd on the dance floor the same as they had at the other club, but this time, Graeme kept quiet about hislack of club experience. That didn’t mean he didn’t get attention, though. Graeme wouldn’t be able to avoid attention in a gay club if he’d walked in wearing a bag over his head. He was catnip to gays of the Brighton club scene. Art could see it a mile away.
