Charlie’s was hopping when we got there.
I followed Sam and Marcus through the front door and was greeted with a homey little dive bar, complete with a jukebox, big booths and strung Christmas lights. The back of the bar opened up to what could’ve been a dance floor but looked more like a place for people to congregate if they couldn’t find a seat.
“What are you drinking?” Sam asked.
“No, no,” I shook my head. “You did enough with that lift ticket. Drinks are on me.”
“Aww, thanks man,” he smiled. “I’ll do a whiskey coke.”
“You got it. Marcus?”
“Vodka Red Bull.”
“Coming right up!”
I shuffled my way up to the bar, nudging between a small gap in the stools, while Sam and Marcus went to claim a spot in the crowd. I let myself look around, take in the room for the first time. It was a mixed group, largely people in their twenties, but with a few clusters of older guys here and there. There were several co-ed groups, too, which surprised me for some reason. I guess I always assumed a gay bar was just for gay men, but this place felt…normal. Like any old bar just draped in a couple pride flags.
Balancing our drinks precariously, I wove through the crowd and found Sam and Marcus along a back wall, hovering near a cocktail table.
“Drinks have arrived!” I called over the music.
“Dang, I just got a flashback of Beckham’s wedding,” Sam smiled.
“Same! You think these are the same tables?” Marcus asked.
“Oh definitely! These tables definitely summer in Mackinac!” I quipped.
We clinked glasses and drank, the energy of the bar quickly bringing us back to life. The music was incredible – all the best early 2000s dance hits and pop punk bangers, filling the place with an infectious energy. I could see groups singing along, others dancing in their booths, others lip-syncing like they had a full audience. It was pretty awesome.
“Thoughts??” Marcus asked.
“It’s like a normal bar except there’s fewer chicks and everyone looks like they’re having way more fun!”
Sam laughed loudly.
“Yeah, that about sums it up!”
“I mean, honestly, we could’ve taken you somewhere gayer but we really like this place,” Marcus explained.
“Gayer how?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Shirtless bartender. Go-go boys. The usual!”
“Hmm,” I pondered loudly. “I’ll keep that in mind!”
“Hey, a couple more of these and I’ll be up for anything!” Marcus teased.
“Same!” I laughed.
“Marcus!”
We all turned to where the shout had come from just in time to spot a guy walking over to our table. He was our age, stylish as hell, and by the way he was walking seemed to be at least a few drinks ahead of us.
“Oh my God, look who it is!” Marcus yelled, meeting him halfway with one of his signature bear hugs.
I felt a strange pang in my chest watching the hug. I stepped closer to Sam, who I noticed hadn’t left the table.
“And Sam!” The stranger smiled, breaking the hug. “This is a special occasion! You guys never go out!”
“Hey dude, how ya been?” Sam greeted, offering his own friendly hug.
I felt myself shrinking behind the table, suddenly feeling out of place. I remembered Marcus’s story from the night before, their last attempt at bringing in a third. I wondered if this was him, then cursed myself for being so emotional about it.
“Seriously, this is awesome. It’s good to see you guys!”
He joined our table like there was no question about whether he was welcome. Up close, he was even more stylish. He looked to be either Korean or Japanese, with perfect hair and a nose ring I couldn’t help but notice. He eyed me casually, scanning my face for recognition.
“Yeah, man. It is a special occasion,” said Marcus, filling in on my right, clearly thrilled at the idea of introducing friends. “This is our friend Drew. He’s visiting from Dallas!”
“Hi Drew from Dallas,” the stranger smiled, extending his hand across the table. “I’m Mathew. You can call me Matt.”
“Hey man,” I accepted his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Likewise!”
He and Marcus launched into a conversation about something that clearly involved having to be there. I tried to follow the throughlines but got distracted when I felt a presence at my shoulder, a hand at the small of my back.
“They work together,” Sam explained, leaning into my ear. “They do this a lot.”
I laughed, leaning towards Sam conspiratorially.
“And here I thought I’d missed the first half of the story.”
“Nah, the first half just happened in the office two weeks ago or something,” Sam smirked.
Sam’s hand stayed put for a moment before moving up my back, his arm draping casually across my shoulder. I was surprisingly grateful for it. For him. I wondered what this looked like, what Mathew might think – Marcus’s boyfriend’s arm around another guy. But then, how many nights out drinking did my arm get thrown across one of my buddy’s shoulders? What made this any different?
We quickly ran out of drinks, so I offered to go grab the next round.
“I’ll come with,” Matt offered. “I need another.”
He held up his empty beer bottle like evidence in a courtroom.
“Uh, yeah. Sounds good!” I nodded, and we took off across the room.
“So how do you know Sam and Marcus?” Matt asked as we reached the bar.
“I’ve known Marcus since college. We were fraternity brothers!”
“Ohhhh, I forget Marcus was in a fraternity. That’s so funny to think about.”
I was about to respond when the bartender approached us.
“Can I get another one?” Matt asked, holding up his bottle.
I put in our orders and the bartender disappeared.
“So you and Marcus work together?”
“Yeah! He’s the only other gay guy in the office, so…we either had to be friends or sworn enemies. We decided on friends!”
“Probably best!” I laughed, only semi understanding the joke. Matt’s eyes scanned the contents of the bar, head bobbing along to the music. Up close, I could faintly smell his cologne. It was clean and bright and citrusy. Oranges and ocean air. I watched him, studying his profile. The swoop of his hair, the plane of his cheekbones, the glint of light from the stud in his nose. He was objectively attractive. Handsome. Maybe even beautiful. In a way I wasn’t sure how to describe. But looking at him I couldn’t deny my reaction – he was attractive as hell. I felt attracted to him. This random guy I’d just met. Not my best friend. Not someone with whom I’d shared an intimate encounter. He was just a guy I was attracted to.
Well, I thought. I guess that answers one question.
“So you’re a fraternity brother, huh?” Matt asked as the bartender returned with our drinks. “Does that mean you’re, uh…unaccustomed to gay bars?”
He raised an eyebrow with a definite flirtatious energy.
“This is my first gay bar,” I nodded, feeling a blush on my cheek.
“Dang. Everyone’s hot friends are always straight.”
“Well,” I began, feeling my heart flutter a little in my chest.
Matt looked at me expectantly.
“I wouldn’t say I’m totally straight.”
Matt’s eyebrows shot up, a faint smile creeping into the corners of his mouth.
“Not totally?”
“I…I’ve slept with dudes,” I said a little awkwardly.
“Oh?” Matt asked, then paused. His eyes looked past me. To our table. “Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, definitely blushing now.
“Wow. Good for you. Good for them!”
I laughed, nervous but somehow lighter.
So far the only people who knew about Sam and Marcus were Sam and Marcus. I’d told no one back home. I didn't know who I’d tell. I didn’t exactly have a buddy I could process my gay experiences with. Well, I did. But he was the one sharing the gay experience. So something about admitting it, about confiding to a stranger at a bar, felt like relief.
“Well, I should get back to my friends, too!” Matt said as we reached the end of the bar. “But it was good to meet you and I hope you three have a very fun night.”
He winked and disappeared into the crowd.
I returned to the table, still blushing a little.
“What happened?” Sam asked, reading the expression on my face.
“I…may have let slip that I’ve slept with both of you.” I grimaced. I turned to Marcus. “Sorry, I know he’s your co-worker! I hope I didn’t, like, overshare.”
Marcus just laughed.
“No worries. At lunch last week Matt told me a story about him blowing one of our Account Executives in the office bathroom. So I think we’re okay.”
“But he said you two are the only gay guys?”
“We are.”
I started to say something but dissolved into a fit of laughter instead, which quickly infected the rest of the table.
We finished that round of drinks. And then another. We hung back at our table by the wall until Shania Twain said, “Let’s go girls” and the whole bar lost its fucking mind. The three of us included.
Well, Sam and Marcus at least.
Marcus immediately left the table and started moving towards the dance floor. I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes a little. But then Sam started to follow. He looked back at me and smiled. I laughed again and shook my head, but he held his ground. Extended a hand my way.
“You asking me to dance?” I shouted over the noise.
“You know it!”
I hesitated. Finished my drink. Slipped my hand into his.
He whisked me into the crowd, finding Marcus in the middle of the action. We carved out a pocket of space and sandwiched Marcus between us. He was singing along. Loudly. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew all the words. This was right up his alley. I was a little more surprised, however, that Sam knew them all too.
He leaned forward, over Marcus’s shoulder and sang to me without the slightest hesitation. I just smiled, bewildered, as this six-foot-something Mountain Man belted unselfconsciously how he felt like a woman.
As the second verse started, he took my hands in his, forming a circle around Marcus. Our arms rose and fell to the beat, and he just kept singing.
“Come on, dude, sing along!” Marcus encouraged.
“I don’t know the words!” I yelled, embarrassed.
“That’s okay!” he assured me. “You only need to know three parts!”
“Which are??”
“Let’s go girls! Whoa oh oh! And, obviously, the title.”
I laughed.
“Okay, I can probably manage that.”
“Here’s your chance!”
The music changed a little as the chorus started, so I took a breath, sank into my knees a little. Belted it out.
“A-WHOA OH OH!”
Marcus and Sam lit up. They yelled the next lyrics to me, setting me up for my next moment. I felt it coming and I took it.
“OH OH OH!”
I let loose a little, hopping on my feet, gripping Sam’s hands, swinging his arms like we were kids dancing around the living room. And for a moment, I felt like one. I felt giddy and boyish and goofy like I hadn’t in ages. Like I had no rules to follow or impressions to make or images to uphold. Like I just got to be whatever I wanted.
I was just feeling the weight of this realization when Sam’s hands gripped mine and he pulled me in close, throwing me against Marcus, pulling us both to him. His eyes met mine, burning with mischief as he hummed along to the music.
“Man! I feel like a woman.”
And just like that, I felt the heat spread from my face to my chest to my groin.
Something about the moment. About feeling the strength in Sam’s hands. About feeling the coiled power in Marcus’s body pressed up against mine. About smelling the traces of sweat and liquor and spicy cologne caused a glitch in my brain. And I couldn’t help but wonder – Holy shit. This had to be at least a little what it felt like being a girl. Dating a guy. Wanting him to hold you. Support you. Throw you around a little. If that was the appeal, well, let’s just say I finally fucking I got it.
I matched Sam’s grip. Pressed myself a little closer to Marcus.
And when that next chorus started up again, I was fully singing along.
-- -- --
We piled into the back seat of the Uber, giggling like idiots. It was a tight squeeze, and of course I ended up in the middle. The driver was clearly used to the Saturday night crowd – party hits played on the radio, loud enough to keep the hype and also, I'm sure, prevent unwanted conversation. I was kind of okay with it. My head was still spinning a little from the drinking and the dancing, so it felt good to sit. To be still for a minute without having to listen or respond to anyone. So I just closed my eyes, listened to the music, settled in for the drive.
I could feel Sam on my left, trying not to take up too much space, his shoulders hunched forward, body angled towards the window. He shifted a little. Then again. I opened my eyes. I could tell he was trying to be considerate, so I grabbed his elbow, which floated awkwardly in front of my chest, and pulled his arm over my head, dropping it around my shoulders. He adjusted once, leaning back against the seat, then settled.
I leaned back into his shoulder and turned to Marcus, his head bobbing along to the music. He looked at me and smiled. I returned the smile, patted him on the thigh. I could feel the heat from his leg, even through the fabric of his jeans. It buzzed with energy. With aliveness. It felt nice. So I left my hand there. My other hand wandered from my lap. Found Sam's thigh. Felt his warmth, low and steady like a fire.
Suddenly, it was like I’d completed a circuit. Electricity pulsed through my body, warming my chest, buzzing between my legs. I became a part of it. A part of them. I remembered Matt’s words at the bar. Good for you. Good for them. I felt the flirtation in his compliment. The imagination. The desire. The feeling that I’d be something worth fantasizing about. Suddenly, I no longer felt like an addition. An accessory. I was a contributor. An equal.
I thought back to last summer, to Marcus giving me a makeover in our hotel room. To the inadequacy I’d felt beside the two of them. And now, between them, I realized that inadequacy was barely flickering. Not gone completely, but well on its way out. Now, I felt like I had something to offer. And it felt fucking powerful.
A smile crept across my face, mischievous and shameless.
My hand slid up Marcus’s thigh and came to rest between his legs. I left it there for a moment. Just to see. My left hand followed suit, sliding between Sam’s thighs.
I gave them both a gentle squeeze.
Beside me I heard a faint inhale.
Sam.
Marcus adjusted in his seat, his legs opening just a little wider.
My hands moved again, a little more intentionally this time.
I felt their reactions, growing steadily beneath their jeans. I kept my eyes forward, tracking the driver’s attention in the rearview mirror. He watched the road with bored attention. I could feel Sam tense a little beside me, trying to maintain his composure, could see him trying to suppress a smile.
Marcus relaxed more easily, his body melting into the seat. He was totally hard now and not even trying to hide it. I kept massaging him until I suddenly felt his hands crowd out mine in his lap. It took me a second before I realized he was unbuttoning his pants, slowly pulling down the zipper. Accepting his invitation, I flattened my palm against his belly and slid it beneath his briefs.
His body was a mystery beneath my hand. Smooth skin. The rough prickle of hair on his groin. The strong, hard root of his shaft. My hand moved awkwardly at first, trapped by the fabric, but I didn’t care. I could tell he was enjoying it and so was I.
Sam watched us from the corner of his eye, fixated on where my hand disappeared beneath dark denim. I knew he’d be the cautious of the two, but the tent in his jeans betrayed his interest. So I moved my hand up a little, lifting the hem of his shirt, tracing my thumb through the soft hair on his navel. Finally, he reached down and covertly undid his fly.
While one hand stroked Marcus, the other combed through the wiry tufts of Sam’s pubes. The textures were so different – trimmed versus grown. Both felt electric against my hand. Both sent shivers up my arms. His cock rested against his hip, letting me graze it with my palm. Without sight, I could feel the differences between them. The thickness. The texture. The shape. Those mesmerizing details that both united and differentiated us as men. My own cock strained against my underwear, desperate for attention. I wondered how it might feel. If I touched it this way. Curious. Intentional. Attentive. It had been so long since I’d done anything but stroke it, I felt a sudden urge to send a hand in to explore it for myself. But I ignored it. It would have its moment later. For now, I continued to move – exploring and tracing and savoring and stroking – until our car left the highway and the apartment building came into view.
-- -- --
We were pulling off our clothes as soon as the front door closed behind us.
“Dude, that was so hot,” Marcus exclaimed, kicking his jeans to the corner. He looked at me with an expression that landed somewhere between lust and wonder.
“Yeah, Drew, that was…damn,” Sam smirked. He pulled his shirt off over his head, laid on the dresser. “Didn’t expect it.”
“Man, I don’t know what came over me,” I blushed, undoing my belt. “I just…wanted to touch you guys. So I did.”
“Well, I loved it,” Marcus beamed. “Guess I can add getting jerked off in an Uber to my resumé.”
“As can I.”
We laughed and then went quiet as the last layer of clothing came off. I wasn’t sure why. It’s not like this was our first time or anything, and yet somehow the energy felt different. Quieter. Intentional. Despite the drunken dizziness of the bar, we stared at each other with surprising clarity. Like we didn’t want to overlook anything.
Marcus was the first to move.
He stepped toward me, eyes scanning up and down my body. He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I reached out, closing the distance between us, tracing my thumb down his bicep. His skin reacted, sprouting goosebumps along the path I’d just traveled. My hand continued down, fingers lacing with his. I felt two more hands on my hips. Sam. His body pressed up against me, hard and hairy and warm. His mouth found the back of my neck. I pulled Marcus a little closer, leaned down, found his lips with mine.
We moved slowly.
Steadily.
Somehow in agreement that we wanted to make this one last. That this wasn’t about the heat or the novelty or the surprise of it anymore. This was about something different. Something more. Pleasure. Connection. Togetherness.
I wrapped my arms around Marcus. Pulled him close. Pressed his body against mine while Sam leaned into me from behind. His hands explored me, one traveling my torso, the other squeezing the back of my thighs. I reached back with one hand, ran it through Sam’s hair, pulled him even closer. His mouth moved behind my ear, nibbling the lobe playfully. I moaned, feeling the warmth radiate through my skull. He continued, tracing the line of my jaw. I leaned my head back just in time for his mouth to descend upon mine.
There was a force in his movements he hadn’t always used before. Determination. Strength without aggression or pressure. A sturdiness that invited me to come undone. And standing there, as Marcus kissed along my collar bone and reached a hand between my legs, I accepted that invitation.
Eventually I had to break away. Catch my breath.
My eyes found Marcus’s, dark and heavy with desire.
“Bed. Now,” I instructed.
“Yes,” he unflinchingly agreed.
He pushed me on the mattress first. I scrambled to the head of the bed, leaning back on the pillows while Marcus crawled his way on top of me. He stopped halfway, looked down between my legs, looked back up at me with a wicked smile.
“What?” I asked, laughing.
“What?” he replied with big, innocent eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Hmm.” His eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”
“Okay.” I felt a twitch between my legs. “You’re going to come up here and kiss me.”
“Can do,” he purred, closing the gap between us. He leaned down and met my mouth again, teasing me with his tongue.
I huffed. Laughed. Wrapped my arms around him and pulled him on top of me.
And we kissed.
Not just kissed, made out.
Like teenagers in the back of a car. Tongues dancing, hands exploring.
Reckless. Shameless. Intense.
So intense I almost didn’t notice the shuffle at the foot of the bed, the dip in the mattress as Sam crawled on. Then Marcus moaned into my mouth. I pulled away, leaving Marcus to explore my neck and jawline, and looked down. From here, I had the perfect view of Marcus’s back. The smooth skin. The graceful muscle. The firm, round curves of his ass. Sam’s face buried between them.
I watched him, enamored. His head moved steadily. His hands gripped flesh. Squeezing. Opening. Giving himself greater access. His eyes opened and met mine. I could see his smile in them, burning like fire as he continued to work. Marcus moaned, kissing my shoulder, nuzzling further into me. Then Sam stopped. Pulled back. Rose up onto his knees.
His chin was damp and his chest was flushed as he spat into his hand. He reached down, applied the moisture to his shaft and guided himself into position. And then, he leaned forward. Slowly. Gently. Bracing a hand on the small of Marcus’s back. Marcus melted into my arms, his body releasing whatever tension it had carried from the day. Fully in, Sam held still for a moment. Even from where I lay, I could feel this act for what it was. Patience. Consideration. Experience. Caring for Marcus even as he devoured him.
“Fuck, baby,” Marcus moaned into my shoulder. “You feel so good.”
Sam leaned forward, collapsing them both onto me, and began to move. He kissed along Marcus’s shoulder, inching closer and closer towards me until, suddenly, his eyes locked onto mine. I held his gaze, which carried a heat of its own. I felt his thrusts against Marcus; felt Marcus’s body grind against my own; felt the connection passing through all three of us. I leaned up and kissed Sam feverishly, wanting to feel the same heat and sturdiness he gave to Marcus. I moaned as his beard tickled my chin. I couldn’t help it. The ruggedness of it. The fucking manliness of it just did something to me.
He pulled away, smiling.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Dude, that beard. It gets me every time,” I confessed.
“It’s his second most attractive feature,” Marcus chimed in, his head resting on my shoulder.
“Second?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s my first?”
“Currently buried six inches inside me,” Marcus quipped.
Sam and I both laughed. Even now, sandwiched between us, Marcus couldn’t resist the urge to crack a joke. Sam’s head hung, smile beaming, chest shaking with laughter, any air of unaffected coolness totally gone. Sensing the shift, Marcus took the opportunity to lead a little. He pressed up on his forearms, and rocked back into Sam, his hips gyrating against mine in a way that made me melt into the pillows.
“Feel good?” he asked, looking down at me.
“Dude,” I moaned. “So good.”
Sam held still while Marcus writhed between us, slow and steady, letting even the tiniest movement have its maximum effect. It was so…intimate. So much less about putting on a good show and more about making us feel it. Really feel it.
While he rocked, my hand reached up, found the side of his face. My thumb traced his jaw. Brushed over his lip. He looked down at me without flinching. Without the tiniest hint of uncertainty or shame. Just affection. Desire. Care.
“Can I,” I heard myself speak. My voice was heavy, lodged somewhere in my throat. “Can I fuck you?”
Marcus held my gaze, the question hanging between us until, softly, he replied.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yes, please.”
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