Why did I do that? What the fuck is wrong with me?
The scene that was so freeing and erotic before now feels suffocating. And somewhere in the back of my head, I feel guilty. Guilty for running. Guilty for leaving Peter on his knees in a dark, dirty hallway. Guilty that I used him so violently for my own pleasure.
I only let him do that because I was drunk and horny.
Yes.
Yes.
He’d offered himself freely, and I took him up on it because I needed the release. Not because I’m into guys, but because I was following the energy of the crowd.
Because I want more from my life.
Because I want to actuallylive.
And for a moment, with Peter Parker, I felt like I was.
CHAPTER TWO
JEREMY
Despite the obvious rejection Ishouldfeel from the mysterious man’s quick departure, he looks so good walking away that I can’t really be mad.
Despite what people think, I don’t normally just suck off random guys in secluded corners, but he was exactly my type—masculine to his core with dark, thick hair and a beard barely more than stubble that spoke of late nights working in an office.
A manly treat if I ever saw one.
He looked vaguely familiar, and I watched for a while before he noticed me. I could tell when I saw him staring at me wide-eyed from across the room that he was new to this scene—and I don’t mean the gay nightclub scene. The queer scene, in general.
He definitely thinks he’s straight. I’m telling you right now that he’s not.
He looked confused, but he watched the crowd with genuine interest.
I wipe my eyes, stand, adjust my very hard dick, and walk back into the club. The music reverberates through my body, the bass way too deep. It’s making my temple throb painfully. I spot Marion by the bar, her arm slung over her girlfriend’sshoulders. I met Marion at an LGBTQ event in college, and she has been my ride-or-die ever since.
She nods as I approach, giving me a smirk as she pushes her short blonde hair from her eyes. “What did you do back there? Or should I askwho?”
I side-eye her, and my gaze wanders to the coat check where the man is shifting from foot to foot while he waits for his jacket. Poor guy didn’t even say goodbye to Tristan.
Yeah, I know Tris. We’ve been friends for a long time.
Marion follows my gaze and frowns. “Him? I mean, he’s your type, for sure, but he looks spooked. What did you do to him?”
I give her a lazy smile. “A gentleman never tells.”
Marion snorts. “You’re hardly a gentleman, J.”
“I can be a gentleman,” I retort.
Elsie, Marion’s girlfriend, giggles at her side. “I wouldn’t call whatever you did with that poor baby gay very gentlemanly.”
“Whatever.” I look back at the coat check, but the man has vanished. I sigh. “I’m going home, babe.”
Marion’s lips fall into a pout. “It’s early.”
“I know.” My fingers drop to my hip, feathering over the edge of the scar there. “I’m just not feeling it tonight. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Concern flickers across her face when her gaze drops to my hand. I force myself to stop the movement and hug her close. She smells like vanilla, cherries, and vodka, and I breathe her in, feeling a bit more centered.
