Right on cue, the band started up in the back, the guitars screeching through the old speakers. Irving perked up, his shoulders loosening beneath his black T-shirt and his sneaker tapping against the stool.
I leaned over the bar, placing my glass in the sink, and Lilith shot me another look. “I’m going back to check on the band,” I said. “With Irving.”
Irving finished off his water. “You work here?”
“I work here.”
He turned to the back, and I grabbed his elbow. “Come on. You came to see the band—let’s see the band.”
We walked through the sparsely populated bar, and when we got to the back room, I saw there were only ten or fifteen diehard fans, all standing near the makeshift stage and bobbing their heads to the howling song. The music throttled us, and when I turned to Irving, I had to scream to try to be heard over the noise.
“They as good as you remember them being?”
Irving had a little bounce in his step, almost like he was going to join the guys at the front of the stage, but when he turned to look up toward me, he had that same ache on his face.
I really, really wanted to get rid of that expression. I figured I could at least get his mouth to open up and his lips to curl around something that wasn’t a frown.
“I’ve never seen them before,” he yelled. “I’ve just heard the records.”
I set my beer down on one of the scattered tables in the back, crossing my arms and trying to take in the band. They all looked worn by age, jumping around with scraggly beards, but they sounded as raw and powerful as they ever had. The lead singer went straight from one song into the next, screaming the lyrics into the mic and kicking his leg out when he got excited.
Irving seemed like he was getting lost in the sound of it, nodding his head slowly, and it gave me time to study how sexy the curves of his ass looked in his tight little jeans. He was a good foot shorter than I was, but he held his space. I had no idea what was surging through his mind while he nodded along to the music, but I could tell it was something serious. I knew what it was like to hold pain in your body, and as a few beads of sweat dripped down his neck, I was damn sure that Irving had something to be angry about.
Fuck it. Nothing helped you move through some bad feelings like indulging in some good ones.
The band was plowing through their set, and when Irving turned back my way, I saw that his eyes were dancing with the energy of it. He didn’t immediately turn from me, and so I stepped closer to him, placing my body only an inch from his. The air smelled like sweat and beer, and I could feel his heat.
“There’s a supply room right there,” I hollered over the music, pointing behind us. “Meet me in it.”
Irving swallowed, and I noticed his fingers twitch. He said something, but the noise swallowed his voice.
“What?”
“I’ve never done that!”
I wasn’t sure what he meant bythat. Hooking up with a stranger? Fucking someone at a concert at a shitty bar? But for how tightlipped and distant he acted, I knew I wasn’t going to get a clear answer anyway.
“Good reason to meet me back there,” I hollered in his ear, then headed to the supply room.
I flipped on the overhead light. The room was nearly empty, just a few empty kegs and some nearly bare shelves, but it would serve its purpose. I kicked my boot up against the wall and leaned back, waiting to see if Irving would have the guts to follow me back here. Alone with my thoughts, I realized how much I wanted this release. My hunger and my desire had laid dormant, but now that I was about to taste Irving, they were alive again.
It only took a minute of guitars squealing before the door cracked open, and he stepped into the light.
“Irving.”
“Brick.”
I knew that words could ruin the whole thing. We would almost certainly never see each other again, and a random hookup in a supply room of a dive bar was about as anonymous as you could get. There was no confusing this for a romantic dinner, and the second Irving stepped through that door, we both knew what we were about to do.
It was good that way. It meant I wouldn’t have a chance to ruin him.
He walked hesitantly closer to me, looking at the ground again and denying me his eye contact. That was fine; I got it. He was moody, and that mood wasn’t going to change just because we got our dicks out.
Hell, it was why I felt safe with him in the first place. You can’t pull someone down to your level when he’s already there.
I rubbed my palm across my crotch, stroking my cock through my jeans as it grew stiff. I thought about all the things I might to do to him, the ways I could throw him against the wall or tie him up to the shelves. I thought about pounding him to oblivion and then making him beg for more, and I thought about how good his hair would feel with my fingers curling through it.
Irving stared straight at my cock, his eyes tracing the motion of my hand. I opened my mouth to bark a command at him, but for some reason, the words chocked in my throat.
