This posting is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY.
It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
This story has had some editing done to it, and it’s US English, though when I ebook publish it will go back to British.
Welcome to my first of 6 post blog story, yay!
I wrote this story for the Taste of Honey Anthology with Dreamspinner but they rejected it.
Word count: 6,256. It’s a complete story, and will be finished up on the 31st
And, for a shout out I wanna thank Ms Bilbao and Ms Hirsch for help with the blurb
Gotta Start Somewhere
Sean has always been a big boy, hairy, manly, but that’s what’s on the outside.
For the men who just want Sean for his body, it was not what was on the inside that mattered: it was the outside package that counted most.
Set up by his mates, Sean entered the horrors of a nightclub but he soon realises it could be the best lost bet of his life.
James and his long-term partner have finally broken up, and suddenly all James can think about is going for the man he’s wanted since their first meeting.
But does James want him for Sean or to make himself better after a breakup?
Sean hated clubs, all fucking types, but especially nightclubs, where the body mass border-lined fire codes and the heat of people radiated around the place in colors.
He didn’t hate it for the difficultly to move; Sean hadn’t had a problem with crowds since he was twenty and hit six-foot-two. It was the fucking heat. Two steps in and sweat was already beading across his forehead and dampening a line down his back.
Not even the dark green vest helped him escape the near claustrophobic heat that seemed to seek him out, pool around him, and had him wishing to God he could be clipped and shaved like a fucking dog.
His body hair didn’t help any, least of all in places like these. The heat making it stick to his chest, back, and thighs adding another layer to the mix.
He was only at the outer edging of the crowd, and he needed a drink. Needed to fucking drown himself in water just so he could gain what he’d already lost.
Fuck, he hated these places. The only reason he was in one now was because he lost a bet he’d agreed to with his mates. A stupid, set-up, bet, and now, here he was, in a club his mates frequented regularly wearing nothing but tight black jeans and a dark green vest.
He was thankful they hadn’t made him wear the top hat, but then that tiny thing on his large head had looked way too pathetic. Sean just wished the same could be true for everything else.
Sean slowly bulldozed his way through the crowd. He was only a step in and he already hated it, but more than that he needed a drink and to find a spot where moving wasn’t necessary.
People caressed him as he walked; his ass was groped, and the hair in the dip of his lower back was pulled, spiking a lusty tingle against his balls as he cringed away from the tease. Fingers, hands, bodies tried to pull him onto the dance floor that was the majority of the place, but Sean was at the stage of panting from thirst, but more so, he knew the drill, understood why they wanted him there.
Sean’s body type was a great gift to a certain type of person, and he hated it, he didn’t like to go Daddy on anyone, let alone have some little dude go to town on him. He didn’t like the expectation of one night—a weekend, to get some rough fucking in with a man that was generally going to try and avoid him if they meet him on the street.
He looked tough; he looked mean, and none of that was more than just genetics’— big shoulders and thick waist. Huge thighs all scattered with a thick layer of hair he had to trim every second day, so he didn’t look like a fucking gorilla gallivanting down the street.
His stubble probably didn’t help, but he wasn’t going to spend much time in front of a mirror shaving the bitch only to have a shadow back by mid-day. Sean had learned early which battle to fight for when it came to his body hair, and the ideas people generally jumped to when they looked at him.
No one wanted a vanilla boy who looked like him, they wanted a man, a dominant man who’d fuck them hard when they were feeling insecure or just hating the shit out of themselves because they liked a dick up their ass.
No one wanted to know shit about him; no one cared more than the moment it took the guy to get his number and where everything was going down.
Sean sighed. He finally reached the bar, leaning one thick arm along the sticky top he leaned in sightly, getting attention so he could get a drink. His eyes stung slightly from the sweat trickling into them, and his arms were a shade darker than when he started in here, just from the wetness to his hair.
His mouth was parched, and he needed a beer more than anything else in his life, and then after that, a fucking bottle of whiskey to tide him over before he even began the search for his mates.
“Hey Sean, you made it!” James said with a little more excitement than anyone should exude while holding onto his sweaty shoulders, but that was always the case with James’ hinted on edge of flirting, even though he had a boyfriend of his own. He’d been this way ever since they’d met nearly a year ago.
“Yay,” Sean replied his voice lost in the heavy base of the club, another bonus for him in places like this, people had to get right up in his face in order to hear the shit coming outta his mouth.
“That’s the spirit.” James laughed ignoring Sean’s tone as he shifted around until their chests nearly rubbed up against each other.
Another thing with James; though his boyfriend was a tiny little…twink would be a word Sean wanted to use to describe the man if he weren’t older than dust. Not that he was that much older than Sean’s mates were, but he definitely couldn’t be classed into the twink world.
Small and thin, the man projected camp while he spoke like the builder he was, and on top of all that, he was completely the opposite from Sean, which made the tingles running across his chest at the contact with James odd. Sean flat out didn’t go for guys who didn’t go for guys like him and James definitely didn’t.
“What you drinking?” James asked as he flagged some cash between his fingers over the bar, getting attention in a way Sean never could just by standing here.
“Whatever’s on tap.”
“You got it,” James winked at him, his eyes lingered enough to get Sean’s feet to shuffle out, giving his balls a tiny bit more space to fill out. He wasn’t quite at the stage of hitting wood, even if his cock wasn’t all that flaccid, but the cranking base line running through the floor, the heat—fucking walking through hell, and the rub of bodies were working on a nice buzz that he wasn’t going to discourage. Horny wasn’t a bad mood to be in when he hated every other aspect of the surroundings he found himself in.
James, who’d still been looking at Sean, shook his head quickly. “You’re looking really fucking hot tonight.”