|The Band Plays On by Theda Black|
They’d met two months ago in Los Angeles—Slater was at the Toxicity Club, busy drowning in a toilet at two in the morning after a ninety minute set and too much liquor and blow. Jonah had fished him out. Jonah wasn’t into guys, but Slater was the exception to everything. (M/M)
And yet, incredibly, here he was on his back on Slater’s shitty sheetless mattress with Slater’s dick up his ass. Talk about burning holes.
“Remember that threesome you refused me on at Dante’s party? With uh—shit, what’s her name—fuck it, it isn’t important. The point is the threesome wasn’t the point. I had an ulterior motive. Wanted to see your dick, man,” Slater said. “Make sure you measure up, you know?”
Jonah raised a brow. “You’re a cock snob? Huh.” He drove his hips up. The burn spread and smoothed out, something good just beneath it. “Surprised you didn’t just ask if you wanted a look.”
Slater grunted, sinking further inside Jonah’s ass. “Knew you’d freak out. Prudence Everhart couldn’t wrap his head around a threesome, now could he?”
“Bitch. To think I was played,” Jonah said dryly. “And now you’ve got me. I’ll never be able to turn back once I’ve had a taste of the beast. Is that the idea?”