He patted me on the shoulder, swallowing a mouthful of beer. “I told Lucas about the convention. He’s already coming up with ideas for a costume.”
“If you show up in spandex, I’m going to pat you down for all that heat you’re packing.”
“You’ve already seen what I’m packing.”
It was the first time he referenced our quickie in the mill. It still didn’t confirm anything. In a gay club, I assumed he felt more comfortable talking about being balls-deep in another man. I was about to ask when he flicked the hat on my head.
“A cowboy?”
“Oh, it belongs?—”
“To me.” Jon threw his arm around my neck, pulling the hat off my head. I cringed at the sensation of slick arms touching my equally slick neck. Jon had no shame as hegave Simon the once over. “Jason, are you keeping secrets?”
I gave Simon a silent, “I’m sorry.”
“We didn’t come tonight to stand around and drink shitty beer, did we?” He slid his arm from around my shoulder and moved closer to Simon. Jon wrapped his arm around Simon’s waist. “I bet this daddy knows how to bump and grind.”
“Daddy?” Simon mouthed. Simon might play for our team occasionally, but it didn’t mean he knew the lingo. When our eyes locked, I raised an eyebrow, nodding to the dance floor. We came here to dance like fools, and I wouldn’t mind a chance to see Simon sweaty.
“What do you say, poppa bear?” asked Jon. I wanted to look at him in horror, but if Jon’s drunken antics got Simon on the dance floor, I’d owe him.
Simon threw back his beer and slammed it on the counter. He took a step forward, and Jon celebrated, giving Simon a swift slap on the ass. I wasn’t prepared for Simon to grab me by the front of my jeans, dragging me in tow. This wasn’t how my dreams unfolded since our time in the mill, but it was the same commanding attitude. Nope, my little cock wasn’t straining at all.
Jon followed us onto the dance floor. The techno music had the same thumping bass it did every Thursday. The lights flashed in time with the beat. Even the people were the usual suspects. The only thing that had changed was the beefy bear throwing his hands in the air with reckless abandon.
I wanted to grab him by the hips and straddle his leg. I could almost feel the phantom grip of his hands on my ass as we danced. There remained an unknown between us, and I didn’t want to step over the line and spook him.
Jon had other plans.
He wiggled his way behind Simon and ground against my teddy bear. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he moved in on my turf. He smiled at me as his hands drifted to Simon’s hips and then up the inside of his t-shirt. Jon, that daring bastard. A moment later, Simon pulled his shirt over his head and stuffed it in his back pocket.
Sweet jumping Jehovah. I said a silent thank you to whatever higher power allowed this to happen. He reached out. With a flick of the wrist, I unfastened the button on my shirt. A trio of shirtless, chubby bears swaying to music. I imagined this is what my heaven looked like.
Jon blew me a kiss before he vanished into the crowd.
I would have been content to stare. When Simon pressed against me, it took a moment before our hips swayed in unison. I wrapped my arms around Simon’s neck, settling into our groove.
Our eyes locked.
In a small town next to Firefly, we gathered to dance. The queer community from up to an hour away drove to let off steam and be around our own. Spectrum had become our haven. Each night, I went with the hope I’d meet somebody… aspecialsomebody. Every time, it ended the same way. I’d be slightly buzzed, exhausted, and alone.
Tonight, the stars aligned. Loneliness was nowhere to be found.
I HEARD A RUMOR
“Can I kill him?”
“I want to sing him to sleep.”
“He’s dead, he doesn’t sleep.”
“What if I make a sexy disguise and seduce him?”
All three men froze. I looked up from the map in my notebook. We sat around a cement picnic table on one side of the green. Every morning, the senior citizens occupied the park like a gang of roaming geriatrics. A group practiced yoga while another handful of women spruced up the flower beds around the gazebo. These three usually played poker, complete with nickel bets.
What had started as a training session for Monsters and Mayhem had gotten out of hand. Nothing new there, but for three men in their twilight years, it reached a new level. Normally, they’d be throwing down cards and retelling stories of a long-passed war. When they volunteered to runthe tabletop roleplaying for the kids, I had my reservations. Now, I knew why.
“Harvey, you can’t seduce a lich. He’s a dead wizard,” I said.
