Page 43 of This or That
I shoot him a sideways glance and plaster on my signature poker face. “Did my wicked ways numb you so much that your skillful mouth’s been forced shut this whole time?” My voice echoes in the empty space; I can’t wait until the new barstools and furniture arrive tomorrow.
“Ha-ha! How old are you, twelve?” I don’t miss his sarcasm as we deposit our backpacks on the waxed concrete floor. He takes off his beanie and softly—but uselessly since we’re wearing several layers of clothes—punches my bicep. “Claire kept shooting me a knowing look while we playedMonster Hunterbefore lunch. I became suspicious, but it took me a trip to the bathroom to figure it out. Thanks for that, moron!”
I muster my most serious tone as my fingers fumble with the zipper of my winter coat and stow my own beanie in my pocket. “Who would have thought that they’d name a video game after my famous boyfriend?”
Paired with a grin, his irritated grumbling is cute. “You know my stage name has nothing to do with it. I didn’t know the game existed at the time.” He shakes his head. “For the record, you suck at redirecting the conversation. Your diversion sucks. And—”
“If you’re about to say that I suck at sucking you off, that’s it! You won’t benefit from my recently acquired talents any longer.” Shrugging, I pout. “Too bad… Just when I nailed my gag reflex.”
“Is that blackmail, Clayton?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare, baby! You know how much I enjoy it when you fuck my mouth.” My words make him blush; bingo! Lost in his thoughts, he stares at the exposed beams of the industrial-style ceiling. “You look hot with my hickey, baby.” This grants me a gentle smile. I melt and lick my lips suggestively. “What can I say? Branding you felt right today.”
My lover swats my ass over my heavy jacket to get me moving. I smirk at him and lead the way towards the large square counter, which sits in the middle of the also square-shaped bar. “Anyway, it’s still fun to feel like I’m twelve sometimes, especially when I’m messing with you.”
Hand in hand, we walk around like we own the place. Content. Proud. Happy. In sync, we let out a sigh and take everything in. Oooh, wait! Wedoown the place!Thisis ours.Thatmakes me giddy.
Soon, Troy stuns me by changing course. “Listen, I’m sorry I never thanked you for choosing me over your fashion career.”
“What are you talking about?” My hip slams Troy into a corner by a vintage jukebox.
My jukebox. Music’s played such an important role in our lives; when I saw this little gem at an auction, I bought it on a whim, days prior to officially owning this place. Like my mom would say, it was a good omen. I’m immensely pleased with the object and the music selection. It contrasts with the modern ambiance and adds the perfect cozy twist. We plan to set up a makeshift dance floor nearby… soon.
“Troy, you were the one who dropped your rock star status and quit traveling the world to stay close to my ravenous body.” I chuckle, then pepper kisses on the hollow of his appetizing neck. His coat slides from his shoulders as he writhes under my ministrations. It remains suspended halfway between his body and the floor as his hands move up to caress my side. I let out a frustrated groan and drop my own parka in one fell swoop.
Our bar. Now that the never-ending paperwork is filled out. Now that our shark of a liquor license lawyer fought tooth and nail for us to be able to sell craft beer alongside more traditional fare. Now that our beloved—and stressful—community board understood that the new venue would be an asset to the area, close enough to Studio 45 to go there more often than not. Our bar, at last. Not a sports bar filled with testosterone, like the one on the cruise. Not a Happy Days-themed bar either, since we couldn’t play the part. Just a friendly local bar with quality alcohol and—hopefully—cool people to match.
“Oh, come on, my DJing gave mesomeopportunities.” His breathing hitches when my hands land on his shoulder blades and begin their descent towards his sumptuous ass; his useless coat lands at his feet. “That much is true, Mike, but you know as well as I do that I wasn’t special enough to make it last.”
His dreams. With Troy constantly being on the road, who would have guessed that his dreams were made of brick and mortar? First, his Park Slope bachelor pad and now this. Apparently, none of it represents a sacrifice to him because it feels right.Wefeel right. Before we discussed it, he’d planned to use up all of his music savings. No way Jose! Starting this entrepreneurial adventure on equal footing grounded us. As soon as I stepped in to offer him a second opinion, I fell in love with the atmosphere of the place.
This calls for a celebration! Neither of us drank a drop of the bottle of Dom Pérignon that we brought with us, and yet, we’re high on excitement, relief, and hope that it’ll grow into a successful business.
“Untrue,” I retort. “You areveryspecial to me. Plus,wemake it last, whether I’m on my knees or not.” I emphasize the words and snicker at my own comeback.
“Ain’t you a sweet talker?”
“That’s how I got Monster Hunter hooked, wasn’t it?” I wink.
“Right… Your inebriated hitting on Anna was sooo sexy!” I open my mouth to counter to no avail. “Anyway, I appreciate the praise, but one record deal isn’t enough to float this six-figure joint.” A furrow forms between his eyebrows. No matter how relieved he is that everything worked according to plan, I can tell that he’s only half-joking.
“Oh, please… I beg to differ, baby. Musically, Matteo and tons of others think you are the bomb. Is that why my lucky bastard of a best friend will get to attend some of your private sessions whenever you decide to give it a go again?” He nods and grants me easier access to his jawline for more TLC. “Maybe you should have given it more time.” My statement sounds like a question.
“Again, it’s endearing that, after all this time, you’re still sugarcoating my future in music you don’t know the first thing about. I love you.” I nibble on his earlobe as my way to call bullshit.
Troy Hunter isn’t a phase. My uptight father managed to deal with the fact that love is love, but I’ve heard hurtful and heinous words and shaming when some realize that Troy and I are a couple. Why people feel entitled to share their opinions on the sexual preferences of others is beyond me. Troy and I are in this together. In turn, I made the easy decision to adjust my career path that I wrongly believed was my dream. It took a few twists and turns to find my true calling, which is less glamorous than Fashion Week, but it suits me. Troy embodies everything I’d unconsciously wanted without admitting it to myself: someone to love unconditionally and who loves me back just as much... and a job opportunity to go along with it. Thanks to my man’s management skills, I’m excited about the challenge that awaits us, especially knowing that his former boss at his most recent bartending gig showed him the ropes.
“Still, you haven’t lost your touch…”
He interrupts me as I knew he would. “And yes, you make me…” He pauses for a split second, then unabashedly snatches one of my hands to place it on his throbbing erection. Of course, he had to make it sexual! “Hard.” Worrying his bottom lip with his front teeth, he wraps his hand around mine and squeezes. “And no, I definitely haven’t lost my touch.” With a low voice that’s infused with lust, my boyfriend pins me with a matching stare. My pulse accelerates as I read the unspoken promises in it. “Thanks for that, Mike.” He smirks playfully. I love this side of him… What am I saying? I love every side of him! “Right back at you, filthy beast!”
“Says the guy who calls me Big Dick Richie…” I trail off.
“Only when your dick wants in my ass, and you know you won’t hear any complaints on my part!” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Ha-ha.” My face reddens as I remember my first time inside him. Exactly as planned: Him, with his cowboy hat on. Me, cowboy style. We needed to blow off some steam after Thanksgiving. I was so fucking scared to hurt him, though. Thankfully, after lots of prep work, it was such a rewarding experience. Since then, our sex and day-to-day life continue to be more fulfilling. We know that we don’t have to fix each other. We’re so compatible, it’s otherworldly. We make so much sense together, it’s ridiculous. We’re so in love, it’s insane… Porn takes place between our sheets now, not on a screen—or much less so—and I welcome his initiative as he welcomes my curiosity. Lately, he upped our game with a couple of toys that my imagination hadn’t fathomed!
Out of the blue, his tone turns serious. “Let’s make a deal. You’ll ignore my this or that, and I’ll stop referring to your monster dick and mentioning your resemblance to Channing Tatum. I’ll pretend that I never noticed either as long as I can enjoy the man I love and his… attributes?” I groan my agreement, and his playfulness returns. “Who would have thought it’d be so easy to jump-start your sex drive?”
