Page 3 of Glitter

But despite visiting Glitter for the same reasons I assume a lot of the other men did—looking for a hookup, a connection, the possibility for an elusive something more—I never in my wildest fantasies expected to actually find myself joining the faction of those who engaged in intimate activities in the men’s bathroom.

The way he’d unhesitatingly pulled me into the bathroom and into a stall, closing and latching the door after us, told me exactly the sort of activities he intended for us, but my brain was still struggling to really grasp that this sort of thing was really happening. To me. With him. Between the two of us.

So, my jaw dropped, and I could only gawk as the glittery angel’s hands dropped to the waistband of his jeans and he began unbuttoning them.

For goodness sake, we hadn’t even exchanged names yet!

Feeling that was something that should be rectified, I dazedly muttered, “Oh. Er. Uh… By the way, my name is—”

The most delicate snort I’ve ever heard flew from his slender, refined nose as he interrupted me. “Yeah, I don’t care, boo.”

The words could’ve, should’ve, sounded mean or heartless, but they were delivered with such teasing lightness that my feelings didn’t even feel hurt—at least, not more than a gentle bruising.

Rejecting my attempt to exchange a small bit of information about each other hadn’t seemed to derail my angel’s plans, as he turned around, presenting me with his pale, flawless back, and shoved his pants below the high, tight, round swell of his ass.

Sweetly arching above those perfect, pretty, hairless, moonglow fair globes, like fragile gossamer wings, were the hot pink bands of a pair of lacy thong underwear. Not that the view from behind wasn’t brain-meltingly and dick-hardeningly beautiful, but I might possibly have been willing to sell my soul to know what those panties looked like from the front, stretched over and cradling what was, probably, this angel’s pretty, pretty cock.

It didn’t look as though I was going to get that opportunity, though—just as well, as I doubted there were any demons around to sell my soul to—as he took my gobsmacked, lust-choked silence as a sign to drag his panties down to join his pants, stretched across the middle of his slim, lithely muscled, thighs.

Holding his arm out by his side, his hand raised and clutching a foil condom packet he’d somehow produced from somewhere, as if by magic, he casually asked, “Do you have your own or do you want to use the one I brought?”

I did have my own, of course. As a sexually active, gay man—well, as sexually active as the universe and finding a willing partner would allow me to be—I carried at least one condom and a packet of lube in my wallet at all times.

But a condom in the hand is worth two in the— I gave my head a small shake before I could finish the stupid thought. Then I reached up and gently snatched the condom from his hand with a muttered thanks.

My hands were the slightest bit damp from nervous sweat, making the slick foil packet slippery and tricky to hold onto as my thick, stubby fingers also scrambled to get my pants unfastened. Somehow, I managed it, and then nearly dropped it anyway, along with my jaw, my wits, and my ability to speak, when my pretty, sweet looking angel ever so casually stated, “You don’t need to worry about any extra lube or getting me ready, boo. I did a little pre-gaming earlier in the evening and I’m all prepped and open for business.”

I was about to put my dick in this man—he’d dragged me into a public bathroom with the clear intention of having me fuck him—and yet it felt almost unbearably intimate to reach forward and tentatively run a finger down between his perfect cheeks. Encountering the slick, softened proof of his statement, I whimpered in surprise and unrestrainable lust.

At least my angel found the mortifyingly embarrassing noise I’d made amusing, based on the smirk he aimed at me over his shoulder.

“Did you think I was lying about it?” he asked, a raised eyebrow joining the teasing expression on his face. “Being properly prepared is no laughing matter,” he added, his words a direct contradiction to the laughter in his voice. “If I say I’m ready to go, then I’mreadytogo. So, suit up, boo, and let’s get this party started.”

“Right. Yes. I can… I’ll just…”

The lighting in the bathroom wasn’t the greatest, which was probably for the best, all things considered. But it was decent enough for me to be ensnared by the enchanting beauty of his eyes, so very close. I could happily peer into them for minutes. Hours. Days. Months or years. An eternity, if I was allowed. I had to forcibly tear my gaze away from those green-specked, light blue eyes, so that I could marshal my attention to fulfilling his command.

Keeping a careful grip on the condom with one hand, I used the other to snag the waistband of my loosened pants and the basic, boring briefs I had on underneath them. Pushing both down, over my hips and the fleshy bulk of my ass until they settled somewhere just above my knees, I was absurdly grateful that the pretty man in front of me wasn’t getting a closeup look at my underwear. Not only did they have to be several sizes larger than his, they weren’t even in the same time zone of stylishness and sexiness as the gorgeous, lacy thing he’d had on underneath his jeans.

For fuck’s sake, they’d come in an economy-sized pack of ten from a big box store.

“Unless…unless you don’t actually want this…”

The quiet, faintly hesitant words floated down and seemed to dance like a gossamer cloud around my bent head. They were the first glimpse I’d gotten of a crack in the seemingly flawless cloak of confidence wrapped so gloriously around this angel of a glittery man.

I quickly raised my head to meet his eyes again. The look in those blue orbs and on his face was one that said that he wouldn’t care what my response would be. Whether I said that I was eager to fuck him or that I’d changed my mind and wanted nothing more to do with him, his expression showed that either would affect him about as much as if tomorrow’s sunrise was at 6:01AM or 6:02.

But unless my ears had been playing tricks on me, I knew what I’d heard in his voice. At least, I was pretty sure. Maybe. And there was the faintest tremor to that lush bottom lip, on a mouth that seemed more inclined to smirk and snark than do anything else.

So, I infused as much sincerity as I could into reassuring him. “Oh, I want this,” I told him, quickly amending my statement to “Want you,” because it was the man, more than the act, that I desired. “More than anything.”

To show him I really meant what I said, I tore open the condom packet and swiftly rolled the bit of latex onto my dick.

Maybe I had imagined it after all, because there was no hint of vulnerability to be heard as he replied, “Well, alright then. I’m ready…you’re ready… Let’s do this thing.” It was all just the same cheerful nonchalance in his voice again, no indication at all that there might be something fragile beneath all the sparkling glitter.

The condom in place, I gave myself a fast, microsecond peptalk that I could do this. I could fuck this gorgeous creature, I wouldn’t come within the first ten seconds or otherwise screw this up, and we’d both enjoy ourselves. Then with my left hand, I gently gripped his hip—so narrow and delicate under my stubby, ungainly fingers—while I wrapped my right hand around the base of my dick and aimed it toward its intended target.

That first brush of my dick against his waiting hole felt electric. And then…sinking inside…Ungh.

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