Page 63 of Faithful

I give him a few quick strokes and slide down to settle between his legs.

He stares up at me with his hooded eyes and nods encouragingly.

It’s sloppy and rushed, and neither of us are particularly prepared for the intensity of this exchange and how different it suddenly feels, tastes, and sounds–being with each other after the intimacy of last night. But I only have a week of this. A week of being with him, so I’m determined to take full advantage of my time here in Vegas.

And letting him fuck my mouth is definitely part of that plan.

Some minutes later, after Kai’s reciprocated and I’ve taken a moment to clean us up with a washcloth, we are lying on the bed, empty and blissed out and as far from ready to face the reality that waits for us outside the suite as possible.

“Bodhi will have your pass,” Kai says, breaths still uneven. “He’ll meet you at the crew entrance on the second floor. Just wait to leave the hotel until after we’re gone.”

The secrecy of it all gives me anxiety, but it’s a price I’m gladly willing to pay for being with him.

* * *

Double Down, the club where Iodine is slotted to play their next twelve shows, is the newest addition to the MGM Grand family and is located just a couple of minutes away from Planet Hollywood where we’re staying.

I choose to walk there because a) I need to clear my brain and b) the evening traffic on the Strip is terrible and not worth the headache of getting an Uber.

Just as Kai suggested, I wait for the entire floor to depart for the venue before risking exiting the suite.

Once the coast is clear, I rush to the bank of elevators and then down to the lobby. It inevitably leads me to the casino where my senses are assaulted by pretty neon lights and the baiting jingle of countless slot machines.

There’s no money in my budget to spend on frivolous things like gambling and I, like a real trooper, fight the urge until the very last moment, but in the end, pull out a twenty just to see if luck is indeed on my side.

Apparently, it’s not when it comes to currency.

That twenty is gone in less than five minutes.

Somewhat upset over the loss of a bill that could have gotten me an entire fast-food meal, I walk outside and start moving toward my destination.

Wow!It’s finally hitting me now, after spending nearly twenty-four hours in this city locked up in a hotel room, that I’m actually here–in fucking Vegas.I’m here because Kai asked me to come. No, he begged me.

And I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at that fact as I trek past the glittering extravaganza of all the attractions and lines of suspect-looking men snapping cards with naked women right in my face.

Wrong team, buddy,I think as I swat away another pesky hand.

The MGM Grand entrance looks just like any other entrance on the Strip: crowded and lacking hordes of people waving banners with Satan on them.

It’s only if you know what you’re looking for that you’ll notice small clusters of girls in all black sprouting up here and there, many wearing Iodine T-shirts and heavy eyeliner.

Yanking the visor of my baseball cap a little lower just in case, I pull out my phone and check the time.

It’s still too early and the opening band won’t go on for another hour, so I decide to swing by the bar on the first floor and get a drink.

Inside, everything is muted green. Neat rows of bottles line the walls. The place looks intimate and trendy and filled with too many overdressed people with various accents. The rock music playing in the background is a nice touch, though.

I weave toward the bar and order an Old Fashioned.

The guy mixing and serving my drink is a little older with the stunning body of an athlete, and I’m not certain why I suddenly acknowledge that fact. Maybe because I’ve finally acknowledged who I am and am starting to see things clearly for the first time in my life.

And perhaps it’s that clarity that gives me a boost of courage.

I smile when he slides the glass over to me.

Surprisingly, he returns the gesture and… Oh fuck! So that’s how it’s done, the eyes locking just a little bit longer than would be socially acceptable for two men.

My gut tightens at the realization. It’s almost as if I rediscovered fucking America.Or my gaydar.

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