THE BAR
The neon flickered like a pulse—purple, dirty red, the color of decisions made with the body instead of the brain. Jack stepped inside, age 28 and hungry, lean muscle under a black shirt that clung like it wanted applause. He came for noise, for heat, for someone to take him apart.
What he found was Will.
48. Broad-shouldered. Thick-jawed. Leather jacket. A body like experience.
He sat alone at the bar, drink untouched, like he was waiting for someone worth the effort.
Jack felt the look before he saw it—slow, scanning, claiming.
Will’s gaze slid down Jack’s chest, his waist, stopped unapologetically at the swing behind his zipper. He didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend politeness.
Jack’s lips curled. So that’s how it is.
He approached—close, confident, standing between Will’s knees like he deserved to be there. The music pounded through them both like a shared heartbeat.
Will didn’t speak first.
He smirked, eyes heavy with interest.
Jack leaned closer, voice a whisper made of heat:
“You hunting tonight?”
Will’s hand rose slowly, fingers strong enough to bruise, gripping Jack’s thigh like he owned it.
He didn’t answer with words—he squeezed.
Jack inhaled sharply, pupils widening.
Then Will spoke.
“Only if the prey offers itself.”
Jack wet his lips, heartbeat wrecking rhythm.
“I’m right here.”
And that was enough.
Will stood, their bodies nearly brushing—older, taller, dominance built into the way he breathed. His thumb pressed beneath Jack’s jaw, tilting his chin up like he was adjusting property.
Jack didn’t resist.
He leaned into it.
“Finish your drink,” Will ordered.
“Then we get a room. I’m not taking you home—I’m taking you apart.”
Jack’s pulse kicked. He downed his glass in one burn, never breaking eye contact.
Will grabbed his wrist—firm, deliberate, claiming—and walked him out of the bar without checking if he followed.
Jack followed because he needed to.
The night air hit them like cold permission. The hotel sign glowed ahead, cheap and promising. Halfway down the block, Will slammed Jack against brick, mouth crushing his like a punishment and reward in the same breath. Tongues fought, teeth scraped, breath came fast and filthy.
Jack moaned into it, grinding hard, desperate already.
Will dragged a hand into Jack’s waistband, fingers bold, thick, knowing.
Jack gasped.
Will grinned.
“Hard already.”
“You’re going to embarrass yourself in that room, aren’t you?”
Jack whispered, panting, “Make me.”
Will’s grip tightened.
“Oh, I will.”
He yanked Jack toward the hotel door.
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