Take This Man: Gay Romance Stories by Unknown Read Free Book Online

in his empty glass, “and that’s on me.” He turns to Shawn, “I’ve got a table.” Yes , Shawn tries to say, I saw you come in. I was watching. You’re beautiful. I’d very much like to fuck you . What comes out: a garbled: “Yes, I can see that. There you are.”
    “You get the glasses.” He picks up his fresh drink and the green bottle; Shawn follows, watching his ass bounce gently in crisply pressed gray dress slacks. The pants follow the curves in the front as well, clinging to lightly muscled thighs and up the inseam…he can almost taste the wool, how it would fuzz up his tongue and suck the moisture from his mouth. Swallowing, he finds he still has spit. Tanqueray breaks the seal on the water and pours.
    “These are new trousers,” he tells Shawn. The bubbles tickle his nose. “I’ve been out shopping today.”
    “You’re visiting?” Shawn asks, dumbly. God, he’s awful at this.
    “Mm. Ducked out of my conference and went to Saks. It’s naughty, I know.”
    “Oh?” For eleven years he’s been out of practice with pickups, the flirting and innuendo, but he clears his throat nonetheless. “They’re very nice, it’s—erm, shit—you look nice.”
    “Nice?” He tuts into his drink. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for when I bought them, but I’ll take what’s on offer.”
    Shawn can do this, he’s danced these steps before. All he has to do is remember how. “I mean, the pants are—good. They look tailored. Expensive?”
    Oh, that’s totally the wrong thing to say, they’ve only just met, they’re strangers, they don’t share a bank account and fight over money, but the other man smiles all the same.
    “Very,” he replies, mouth curving upward. He then lobs another question over, his a smooth backhand in contrast to Shawn’s own clumsy, unpracticed strokes. “Do they suit me, do you think?”
    A hint of a smile plays around his lips. Surely he can see how Shawn’s affected by him, drawn like metal to a magnet. Do they, fuck . His voice prickles the back of Shawn’s neck. When he speaks again, his own voice wells up thick in his throat, alien to his own ears.
    “I’d have to take a closer look,” he says, “to be absolutely sure.” Gaining confidence from the other man’s rising blush, he continues, making the words gravelly and intimate. “I didn’t see much, but those pants, however much they may have cost”—the stranger’s eyebrows go up at the mention of money—“they are worth every single cent.”
    “Yes,” the man breathes out with a happy sigh, “I was hoping you’d think so.”
    Glass emptied, Shawn reaches across the table to touch him, rubbing tiny circles into his wrist with his thumb. The stranger bites his lower lip, and Shawn wants to take it between his own teeth to taste the blood and feel the sting. The man clears his throat and says, “I saw you looking, before. When you were sitting alone. At the bar.”
    His heartbeat flutters beneath Shawn’s touch, thready and quick. “And?” Shawn bends his head to press his mouth against his pulse point. Words, he can’t master, but the touch is doing the trick.
    His lips part, “And I think you need to go get your credit card back,” he answers, “because I’m holding you to that promise.”
    “You said you’ve got a room?” the point of Shawn’s tongue flicks out, cleaning away the salt on his skin.
    “Upstairs,” he says, eyes half-shut in drowsy pleasure; it’s late for them both. “Do you want to come see it?” As if this hotel could be all that different from any other, with its luggage racks and industrial towels, miniature bottles of booze and shampoo, cheaply framed art depicting local scenery.
    “If you’ll let me,” he says, teeth grazing the fleshy meat of his thumb. The other man stands quickly on shaky legs. Shawn’s face is nearly level with his groin, and the pants are so tight, the outline of his cock is already noticeable. He looks around, checking that