Page 18 of Dreamers Often Lie

“Let me get you a drink.” I raised my hand to call over the bartender.

“What is this a date? I can get my own,” he scoffed and raised his hand.

“It’s a nicety. I… didn’t hate our conversation the other night. Actually, I thought it was fun.” I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“Well, we weren’t trying to…” The bartender came over, and Ty glanced at my beer. “Is that an IPA? I’ll just have that.” The bartender nodded, and TY looked back at me. “What was I saying? Oh! We weren’t trying to beat each other up.”

I roared with laughter. He just kept surprising me over and over. “True. You’re a fucking duelist, Prince of Cats.”

He frowned. “I hate that.”

I leaned back in the booth and took a sip of my beer. “You’re not as big of a dick as I thought you’d be. I mean, now that we’re not trying to kill each other, as you say.”

The frown flipped, and once again, that easy smile splayed across and brightened his face. “Oh, the jury is still out. I plan on sticking you with my sword.” He winked, and I almost spit out the beer I had just swallowed.

“Youarethecaptainofcompliments. The verybutcherof abottom.” I winked back. Flirting with him was coming too easily, and I enjoyed it too much. He might not be the enemy right now, but he was still dangerous.

“When I need to be. Did you think I’d be like Roam or Jules? Do I come off that pompous?” The waiter brought over his beer and set it down. He picked it up, and I held my glass aloft, too. “Thank you.”

“Actually, yeah… I guess so... Sometimes. I mean, we don’t really know each other. All I know of you is street fights and videos.” He did have an aloofness to him. That’s probably one of the reasons he was so popular. He was a mystery or an enigma that fucked like a Wildman but kept his secrets from the public.

“We won’t know each other after we fuck either.” He looked back up at me. “It’s just a scene.”

“I know that. But I had… fun?” Is that what I would call it? He made my stomach tumble in a way I wasn’t used to. It was stupid, and it was going to cause me pain. This guy could mortally wound me if I let him in. I shouldn’t. “Would it be horrible if we actually became friendly?”

He shrugged and tilted his head to look at me. His movement was fluid, like that of a dancer or a fencer in the middle of a joust. “The studios will be back at each other’s throats soon enough. You know that those two will never be able to get along.”

I took a deep breath and moved my glass to the right. “Doesn’t mean we can’t.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.” He chuckled and nodded before pushing his glass to the left. “I didn’t hate our conversation either. You’re funny.”

It was like I was playing a game of beer chess with him. In truth, I just wanted a clear view of the way his t-shirt hugged his chest. It was inspiring and made my crotch jump at the thought of running my hands over it. “Yeah, I’m a fucking clown. At least, that’s what Monty says people want to see. That dichotomy of the stupidstraightboy who fucks like a madman when he finally lets himself go. That’s what Monty says is my lane, and I should stay in it.”

“He didn’t like the idea of you bottoming, did he?” Ty looked at me perplexed. “My uncle had no trouble offering my ass up to you.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You turned white when he agreed. But… No. I’ve been trying to get him to let me be vers for a while to switch it up. He wouldn’t hear of it,” I admitted. It was easy to admit that I wanted to bottom to the one man I really wanted to top me.

“You… uh… want to?” He cocked an eyebrow and stared at me.

I grinned widely. “Oh, yeah. I prefer it, actually.”

His eyes widened as he stared at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. “Wow… ok… A big dicked bottom… You don’t see that too often.”

“There’s been a few, but none of them are the stars of their studios, are they? Audiences like that twink boy look. It’s not realistic at all. We’re gay men, and that shit isn’t so cut and dry.”

“Realistic?” He scoffed. “Realism isn’t what they pay to see.” He looked down at his beer and spun it slowly around with his fingers.

“Isn’t it? It would be nice to actually have sex with someone without having to… I haven’t fucked someone who didn’t expect a porn star fuck from me in a long time.” I smirked.

“It’s this business. I wouldn’t hate it so much if I didn’t have to escort, too.” He glanced back at me, and his mask had fallen. Here was a piece of truth that he was offering to me like an olive branch. “I hate that shit most of the time.”

“The life of a whore.” I picked up my glass and held it aloft.

“I hate that word.” He picked his up but didn’t hold it up. This was a challenge of some sort.

“Isn’t that what we are when you get to the core of what we do?” I shrugged.

“It cheapens it… me.”

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