Chapter One
"Hey, Matt, call for you on line one."

Matt glanced up from his computer screen and nodded to the coworker walking by. He sighed, and with one final glance at his unfinished email, Matt picked up the phone. "Hello, Matthew McLachlan speaking," he spoke into the receiver. He was aware that his voice sounded higher than usual on the phone; he even enjoyed guessing what the other person was thinking. This practice was nearly a game for him.

The pseudo game had to end when the caller spoke. "Matt, will you pick up some milk on your way home?" It was his roommate, Davis. Of all things to call about, Davis usually called about grocery shopping or errands he needed Matt to run. Matt, despite his joking complaints about Davis being a lazy freeloader, went on those errands or shopping trips most of the time. "And some laundry detergent, too. Oh, and condoms."

"I have some condoms in my top drawer," Matt told his roommate, trying to be discreet given his surroundings. "But I'll get the milk and detergent."

"Thanks. Look, I hate to bug you like this, but -"

"Okay, Davis, I'll buy you the damn ice cream, too," Matt said with a knowing smile. This was typically how their conversations went. Davis never liked to ask that Matt buy him ice cream, his favorite thing in the world; in the end, though, he caved in and had to desperately request his guilty pleasure. "What kind do you want?"

"Get me a carton of anything, except that gross kind with pralines," said Davis. "I lost my job last night. I meant to tell you this morning, but you were in a hurry and I thought it'd plague you."

"You lost your job?" whispered Matt.

"Yeah."

"But you were only there for three months."

Matt could practically see Davis shifting uncomfortably on the couch as he replied, "Well, um... Remember that really cute guy I told you about? The one with the huge cock?"

Matt's ears grew a little warm as he asked, "The one with the identical twin?" He hoped there was no way anyone could listen in on this conversation. It was becoming personal and potentially embarrassing, for both himself and for Davis.

"That's the one." Davis paused. There was the sound of him moving something. He cleared his throat and then he spoke again. "The manager caught me in the back room, sucking him off. And his twin. At the same time."

"That's just -"

"Wrong? Physically impossible? Disgusting?"

"I was thinking hot, but wrong's the word for it. Davis, you know your boss told you not to do that with customers." Matt kept his voice very, very low, all but inaudible, so that none of his coworkers would get the wrong idea. If they did, they would have been correct, but that wasn't something he needed to deal with. Especially not when Davis was jobless, and he didn't need to join the ranks of unemployment himself. "Why?"

"He was hot," answered Davis. Matt could see the casual shrug now, Davis's broad shoulders - probably in that faded, ratty Mötley Crüe t-shirt he liked to wear around the house - raising slightly only to drop back, his shoulder length dark hair shifting with the movement. "It sounds gross and really slutty of me, but I needed cock anyway. You know?"

Matt licked his lips. "Oh, trust me, I know."

"Um." Davis clicked his tongue. That habit always bothered Matt; any other day, he would make a point to bring it up. This time, he decided not to comment on it. He would be lenient. "Get me Häagen Dazs, whatever has the most chocolate. I'll pay you back."

Matt giggled a little. "Look, don't bother. I'll get you your ice cream, okay? I'll be there in about two hours."

"See ya, sweetcheeks," laughed Davis, clearly feeling better, and they hung up.

Matt finished typing his email and wasted the rest of his time painting his nails. At the end of the day, clocking out, his perfectly trimmed, manicured fingernails were colored a deep red. He waved to one of his work friends and, entering the elevator, he fussed with his hair as he studied himself in the reflective walls. It was vain. It was shameless. Matt hardly cared that the two women in with him were staring dubiously. He had to look good when he walked out onto the sidewalk.

He looked good beyond just walking outside; he knew that he looked goot going through the grocery store and driving home. Waiting at a stoplight a block away from his apartment building, he glanced at the driver in the car next to him and smiled. The guy was definitely hot. It took him a minute to catch on, but when he looked up, he seemed equally interested in Matt's attention. He winked at Matt and smiled flirtatiously - a smile that Matt gladly returned - until the light turned green. The other car turned right, leaving Matt to drive on and pull into his respective parking garage.

"Oh, Davis dahling, I have your precious ice cream!" called Matt in a high singsong voice.

Davis emerged from the bathroom, bringing a cloud of steam with him and not much else. He was completely naked but for a too-small towel. Being so tall and slim, the towels that Matt preferred didn't properly cover his thighs. "Thanks," he grinned, digging into the bag and pulling out the ice cream. "I think I love you."

"No you don't," Matt corrected. "Just be appreciative that you have your Häagen Dazs. I shouldn't indulge you, you know."

"Yeah," Davis nodded. He was busy opening the first carton and digging into it with a soup spoon. He swallowed the first bite and planted a sloppy kiss on Matt's cheek. "Nah, Matt, I really love you." He batted his eyelashes adorably and laughed, going back to his ice cream.

"Like I said, no you don't. You love your expensive ice cream." Matt laughed with his friend and leaned over to lick his cheek. "Have fun with that. I think I'm going dancing tonight."

"Without me?" Davis pouted his lower lip. Matt couldn't help giggling as he noticed that Davis had a small stripe of chocolate on his lip, which he promply leaned over again to lick off. "Ooh, Matt, you love me too!" He clapped his hands and cried, "I'll come with you!"

"No." Matt was emphatic. He needed his private life, and although Davis was his best friend, that meant going out on his own, having his fun, doing things his way.

Davis looked puzzled. Luckily for Matt, he didn't comment. He shook his head and smiled enigmatically at Matt, taking another bite of ice cream. He retreated from the kitchen and plopped down on the couch - still in full towel regalia - turning on the television. "We still have our subscription, right?" he called.

With a groan, Matt replied, "Yes." Davis was referring to the pornography channels he paid for - with Matt's help, of course, and especially now that he didn't have steady income - and frequently watched. Not just watched, actually; many a time, Matt walked into their small living room and caught sight of Davis in the midst of jacking off. While not exactly his favorite image first thing in the morning, he didn't have any real complaints. He had, after all, ogled what was offered. Davis, for a roommate and a best friend, was hot. Were Matt interested in screwing his friends instead of strangers, he might have taken advantage of the opportunities. "Why do you insist on watching that stuff? It's not as good as the real thing, y'know."

"So what? I can't get the real thing as often as I need it," Davis said.

That was the understatement of the century. Matt rolled his eyes at the image and went about putting the other carton of ice cream in the freezer, pointedly keeping his back turned away from Davis. Any minute now, the noises that the porn stars were making would be even louder. Davis wasn't exactly the quietest about playing with himself. He did it so often that Matt easily recognized the noises and the signs and tried to get away so he didn't have to put up with it. "Someday I'm going to take it wrong when you do that in front of me, and I might take advantage of you," Matt smirked. He got no response. Davis was busy. "I'm going out in a minute. I don't need to watch that."

Oh, but to be perfectly honest with himself, Matt was more than just a little tempted. He shook it off and hurried to his room. He had strangers to screw, dancing to do, and a drunken headache that needed to start sometime soon. He nearly ripped off hs work clothes, tossing the hatefully conservative things aside carelessly. If he had his choice, he would burn them forever, quit his job, and run off to party all the time. Unlike Davis, he had common sense. He could settle for going out only a few times a week. He donned his clubwear and ran out the front door without a goodbye to his moaning roommate. Damn Davis and his libido.

The clubs seemed somehow bland tonight. Striding down the street like he owned the place, Matt appreciated the attention he was getting. However, he didn't stop and act on any of his mild impulses to flirt. Something was bugging the hell out of him. He shook it off. Following his gut and leaving would be downright stupid, not to mention a waste of time and gas. With prices as they were, he couldn't afford to drive down to the clubs only to drive back home. Matt put his party face on and smiled winningly at one of his bystanding admirers. The man arched an eyebrow at him and smiled back; he didn't move from his place, content to watch Matt go by. Fine by him. He didn't need or want to get screwed within the first five minutes of the night.

Matt got into the crowded line headed into the nearest club. He was a regular; the bouncers didn't bother so much as glancing at him a second time. They simply let him in and he sashayed over to the bar. "Back again?" the bartender asked amusedly. "You're here nearly every night, hon, and you never find anything lasting." She was a little older than he was, and one of his many unofficial friends from this nighttime world.

"I'm not looking for anything lasting," Matt said. He smiled at her and added, "Why, Lina, you want to date me?"

"I know you're gay," she shook her head and poured him a glass of whiskey, sliding it in front of him with practiced ease. For as long as he'd been coming here, Lina had been working here. She knew a lot more than he gave her credit for. "And you should know that I have a girlfriend."

Matt giggled. "Yeah, I assumed you were a lesbian the first time I saw you."

"Working in a bar full of men and never flirting with any of them should be a tip off." Lina laughed with him, but had to go down the bar to serve another customer. Matt was alone now, not that it made him uncomfortable. He needed conversation with someone impartial, someone he wasn't interested in - someone like Lina - to keep his mind off walking out and going home. He sighed and gulped down the glass in a few quick swallows. The whiskey burned his throat on the way down, a comforting, familiar sensation. It accompanied the beginning of every night like this. Slowly, eventually, it would dull his senses and his thoughts; he wouldn't have to worry about walking out once he'd taken down a few more glasses.

"Are you going to dance, or are you going to spend all night getting wasted?"

Matt looked up from his emptied glass and noticed a previous acquaintance of his standing beside him, perilously close. Though leaning on the bar, he was inches away from also leaning on Matt. "Hi, Brian," he greeted. "I'm not going to dance yet, I think."

"Aww, come on," urged Brian. "It's not like I don't already know you. We've been in the back room before, remember?" He gave Matt his best smile. Anyone else, had they been in Matt's place, might have melted and given in to Brian's charm. But Matt knew Brian, knew the club, knew how everything worked, and he wasn't about to go back with Brian. He would much rather have someone he knew and cared nothing about. That is, if he were interested in casual sex tonight, and for once, it didn't seem that way. "Come on," Brian repeated.

"Nice try," Matt said. "It's not working. Look, Brian, see that guy at the other end of the bar?" Brian nodded and glanced quickly down the bar, so he continued, "He looks like virgin meat. Go take care of him."

If anything would get rid of Brian in a flash, that ploy would. The younger man at the end of the bar really did look like an inexperienced virgin, no lie; Matt simply knew how to take advantage of such things. Brian would leave him alone now for the rest of the night. Lina returned and arched a critical eyebrow. "Not going with Brian? Man, there's something wrong with you tonight," she chuckled. "Need another drink to remedy that?"

"Sure." Matt handed her his glass and, as she poured, asked, "Do you really think there's something wrong with me if I don't actually feel like fucking someone tonight?"

Lina slid the filled glass back over to him and leaned against the bar lazily. "Well," she began. She paused, licked her bright red lips, thinking of what to say, and shrugged. "It depends. Spill the details, gay boy."

"That's the problem, Lina. There aren't details to spill." Matt finished off his whiskey and handed the glass to her again. "I came here tonight and I just didn't feel like fucking like I normally do." Lina handed him his glass again, which he polished off just as quickly as he had the first two. "I don't even feel like dancing."

"You have problems, then," Lina told him smoothly. She straightened up and adjusted her tight t-shirt, although she knew that it made no difference. "By now, I know you'd be on the floor or headed to the back room with somebody."

"Hmmm."

"Do you have somebody you want? Like, emotionally and legitimately and all that?"

"No!" Matt cried, a bit faster and much louder than necessary.

"Go screw somebody. Get the guy off your mind," Lina ordered. "A good fuck repairs more than alcohol can. At least, it does in my experience." She patted his cheek like a mother might and handed him a bottle of whiskey. "Don't drink it all in one place. You need your judgment for who you end up with tonight." Her piece said and the bills he offered taken, she left him to gulp down whiskey and stew in his unhelpful thoughts.

What was he supposed to do, anyway, when he wasn't waist-deep in the typical entertainments that he participated in? What was he supposed to do when said entertainments didn't even interest him like they ought to? He would be better off sitting at home on the couch and jacking off to bad porn movies with Davis. Maybe a break from the scene, some time spent in their apartment doing generally nothing sex or club related, would do him good. Or maybe... Maybe something was wrong with him now that he needed to face.

He didn't have to wait terribly long to have his problem "fixed." One minute Lina was taking the emptied bottle away from him, he was walking out onto the dance floor and moving seductively to the music. The next minute, or maybe two - Matt didn't care - there was someone pressing up against him from behind, someone with strong hands and leather pants and a huge hard on in the front of said pants. Matt couldn't resist something like that. "Back room?" he suggested. Except that it wasn't much of a suggestion when he already knew the answer.

He was the leader, swishing through the club in all his effeminate glory, reveling in the envious looks the other men were giving his new partner. Or maybe they were giving him those looks. The guy he was with was pretty damn hot, and it worked both ways like that. Matt wasn't entirely narcissistic. He opened the door to the dark, almost pitch black, back room and ushered the man in rather impatiently. He had to prove Lina wrong. He didn't have problems, wasn't seeking a serious relationship, and sure as hell needed to get laid no matter what. He was harder than he'd been for a while, and it was getting to him. Shutting the door behind him, he dropped his usual high voice and entered his dominant element. "Strip."

His voice was husky, but commanding. Within an instant following the word, the man - a good six inches taller than Matt, and obviously more muscular - was tugging off his clothes in a frenzy, throwing them aside like Matt did his work clothes. Like they would burn his skin if he didn't get them off fast enough. Matt didn't take off his own clothes. He was in control, and all he had to do was unfasten his pants and go at it when he had what he wanted. "Get on the bed over there." He pointed, making sure the man could see it even in the darkness. There were others, as there were several beds back in the room, but Matt didn't pay any attention. There was only one empty bed, and that made it clear.

Problem was, no matter how clear his intentions and directions were, the man had to be hesitant. He gaped at Matt as though he couldn't comprehend the instruction - or more likely couldn't comprehend the source - and refused to move. "I said," Matt snapped, approaching and shoving the guy down on the bed, "get on the bed. Now."

The guy didn't waste time getting on his hands and knees like a good little boy. Matt waited impatiently and, when the man was ready, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled his erection out. Pressing the head against his partner's tight opening, he ordered, "Be quiet." Then he thrust all the way in, relishing the tightness and the little whimper that escaped the man's open mouth. "Shut up." Matt thrust in again, faster and harder. This time, the whimper came a little louder. It seemed like the guy couldn't learn from his mistakes. Matt moved as fast as he could, making sure his strokes were painful. His hands were bruising, gripping the man's hips too tightly. "I told you," he growled, "shut -" another thrust, harder than ever, if that were possible "- up." He leaned forward, over his partner's back, and bit down on the junction of neck and shoulder.

A pained cry replaced the previous whimpers. "If you want to come, you'll shut up when I tell you to!" Matt's voice was strained, but angry and powerfully commanding. He bit down again, harder, drawing blood. He licked it up, making a point to press his tongue hard against the cuts. The man beneath him squirmed in discomfort and made a little gasping noise. "What did I tell you?" Matt shoved his fist into the man's mouth.

He couldn't very well bite down on Matt's fist, so the guy managed to shut himself up without further reprimand. Matt kept up his steady pace, fucking so hard that he was starting to see stars, and then finally, right when he was sure the stars were going to consume his vision forever, he exploded. He shot his load deep inside his partner, his fingernails digging into narrow hips, scraping off lines of skin. Beneath him, his partner hadn't found it in him to come, and was instead doing his best to keep from whimpering and whining while Matt pulled his softening cock from his ass. "I told you to be quiet. If you were quiet, you might have even enjoyed it." Matt slapped the ass in front of him, dirty deed done, and, tucking his cock back inside his pants, he fastened up and left.

For whatever reason, he didn't feel any better.