The mall was a monster, a concrete beast belching out a cacophony of overlapping holiday music, frantic public service announcements, and the shrill cries of overstimulated children. Eugene Phipps, Sandy to everyone who knew him, felt like a tiny, insignificant cell in its massive, congested body. It was the first Saturday after Thanksgiving, Black Friday’s hungover, less-deal-oriented cousin, and the entire city had apparently decided to descend upon this single, multi-level monument to consumerism.
At 26, Sandy was usually a fan of the holidays. He loved the lights, the scent of pine, the cheesy movies. But this year, the pressure was on. His family was notoriously difficult to shop for, and so far, his quest had yielded nothing but a growing sense of despair and a headache that was starting to thump behind his eyes. He’d circled the same three department stores twice, been jostled by aggressive mothers fighting over the last of a toy, and had narrowly avoided being run down by a teenager demonstrating a hoverboard.
Defeated, he retreated to the food court. It was a sea of humanity, a swirling vortex of grease-soaked air and clattering trays. He scanned the options: a sad-looking Chinese buffet, a place that served questionable Mexican food, and, his salvation, a simple pizza counter. He joined the line, a long, serpentine thing that coiled back on itself, and settled in for a wait.
As he shuffled forward, his gaze drifted aimlessly over the crowd. That’s when he saw him. Standing near the smoothie counter, waiting for his order, was a man who seemed to exist in a different, more vibrant dimension than the rest of the food court. He was, Sandy’s brain supplied helplessly, devastatingly handsome. He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe a couple of years older than Sandy. He had thick, dark brown hair that was styled with an effortless sort of precision, a few stray waves falling over his forehead. His jaw was strong and clean-shaven, his nose straight, and his lips, full and well-defined, were curled in a slight, patient smile as he watched the blender work its magic.
He wore a simple, well-fitting black jacket over a dark gray crewneck sweater that clung to a broad chest and tapered down to a lean waist. A pair of dark wash jeans and sturdy, expensive-looking boots completed the look. He wasn’t dressed up, but he looked… put together. Confident. He radiated a quiet energy that was a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the mall around them.
Sandy felt a familiar, pleasant warmth spread through his chest. He let his eyes linger, tracing the line of the man’s throat down to where his sweater met the coat. His gaze continued its journey, lower, to the snug fit of his jeans across his thighs. He was just admiring the overall picture, the pleasing proportions, when the man turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Sandy’s heart lurched into his throat. He’d been caught. A hot flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. But the man wasn’t offended. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his deep-set, chocolate-brown eyes. It was a smile that was both acknowledging and inviting, a silent “I see you, and it’s okay.”
Sandy, feeling a surge of boldness he didn’t know he possessed, smiled back. It was a small, shy thing, but it was genuine. Holding the man’s gaze, he let his own eyes dip for just a fraction of a second, a quick, deliberate glance at the man’s crotch before snapping back up to lock eyes with him again. It was a blatant, unmistakable signal. A question asked without a single word.
The man’s smile widened, a flash of white teeth. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. The air between them crackled with an unspoken understanding.
“Next!” a gruff voice barked from the pizza counter.
Sandy snapped out of his trance. He paid for his slice of pepperoni, the transaction happening in a daze. With the cardboard plate in his hand, he turned and scanned the food court, looking for an empty table. He spotted one in a far corner, mercifully away from the main thoroughfare. He glanced back toward the smoothie stand, but the handsome man was gone. A pang of disappointment hit him, sharp and sudden. He’d imagined it, then. Or maybe the man was just polite. He sighed and started weaving his way through the tables.
“Over here.”
The voice was low and smooth, coming from his left. Sandy stopped and turned. It was him. The handsome man was standing by a small, two-person table, holding a large plastic cup filled with something green and thick. He gestured with his free hand toward the empty chair opposite him.
Sandy’s pulse hammered in his ears. He walked over, his pizza slice feeling suddenly insignificant in his hand. He slid into the chair, and they were face to face, close enough that Sandy could see the faint stubble beginning to shadow the man’s jaw and the tiny gold flecks in his brown eyes.
“Hi,” the man said, his smile still firmly in place. “I’m Joshua.”
“Sandy,” Sandy replied, his voice a little breathless. He set his pizza down on the table. “Eugene, actually. But everyone calls me Sandy.”
Joshua nodded. “Sandy. It suits you.” He took a sip of his protein shake. “Rough day out there?”
“You have no idea,” Sandy said with a short, humorless laugh. “I think I’ve been elbowed in the ribs at least a dozen times. You?”
“Just grabbing a shake after a workout,” Joshua said, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. The gesture brought him closer, shrinking the space between them. “So, are you done with your Christmas torture, or is there more suffering on the agenda?”
Sandy felt a thrill run down his spine. The directness in Joshua’s tone was intoxicating. “I think I’m done for the day. I’ve got nothing to show for it but a headache.”
Joshua’s eyes held his. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I was wondering if you wanted to go play.”
The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Sandy’s mouth went dry. He could only manage a nod, his excitement making it impossible to form a coherent sentence.
Joshua’s smile turned predatory, pleased. “Great. Do we split a hotel room, or do you have a space?”
“I live across the street,” Sandy blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. “In the apartments with the blue sign.”
“Even better,” Joshua murmured. He stood up, downing the last of his shake in one long swallow. “Lead the way.”
They walked out of the mall and into the crisp November air. The crosswalk signal changed, and they joined the flow of pedestrians crossing the street. Sandy could feel the heat from Joshua’s body next to his, the faint, clean scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of cold air. Neither of them spoke. The anticipation was a living thing, a current running between them, making the hairs on Sandy’s arms stand on end.
Inside the lobby of Sandy’s building, he fumbled with his keycard at the elevator bank, his fingers suddenly clumsy. Joshua stood just behind him, close enough that Sandy could feel his breath on the back of his neck. The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, enclosing them in the small, mirrored space, Joshua’s hand came to rest on the small of Sandy’s back, a firm, possessive touch that made Sandy’s knees feel weak.
The elevator dinged at the 4th floor. Sandy led him down the hall to his apartment, his heart thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside. He turned to say something, to offer a drink, anything, but the words died on his lips.
Joshua was right there. He kicked the door shut with his foot, cupped Sandy’s face in his hands, and kissed him. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was deep and hungry, a kiss that started with a desperate urgency and melted into a slow, thorough exploration. Joshua’s tongue slid against his, claiming his mouth, and Sandy melted into him, his hands coming up to grip the lapels of Joshua’s coat.
They stumbled backward, a tangle of limbs and urgent hands, toward the living room. The kiss broke only when they needed to breathe, their foreheads pressed together, their breathing ragged.
“Bedroom,” Joshua commanded, his voice a low growl.
Sandy nodded, leading him down the short hall. The moment they were inside his room, the frenzy began again. Joshua shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. Sandy pulled his own sweater over his head. Their eyes met, dark and full of intent, as they undressed. Joshua’s body was even better than Sandy had imagined. His chest was sculpted, his abs defined, a light trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Sandy’s own body was leaner, more wiry, but he felt a surge of confidence under the heat of Joshua’s appreciative gaze.
They fell onto the bed, naked skin and searching hands. Joshua kissed him again, his lips trailing down Sandy’s jaw, his neck, his chest. He took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue until Sandy gasped, arching his back. Joshua’s mouth continued its downward journey, over his stomach, until he reached the hard, straining length of Sandy’s cock. He didn’t hesitate. He took Sandy into his mouth, hot and wet, his tongue swirling around the head before he sank down, taking him deep. The sensation was overwhelming, a jolt of pure pleasure that shot through Sandy’s entire body. He fisted his hands in the sheets, his hips bucking instinctively. Joshua was skilled, his movements confident and deliberate, using his lips and tongue in a way that had Sandy spiraling toward the edge in record time. He moaned, a low, guttural sound, as Joshua worked him, one hand gripping the base of his shaft while the other roamed over his chest and thighs.
Just as Sandy felt the tightening in his balls that signaled his impending release, Joshua pulled back, leaving him gasping and desperate. Joshua moved up the bed, his body covering Sandy’s, and kissed him again, letting Sandy taste himself on his lips.
“My turn,” Joshua whispered against his mouth.
Sandy was eager to comply. He rolled them over, his hands exploring the hard planes of Joshua’s chest and stomach. He kissed his way down Joshua’s body, mimicking the path Joshua had taken on his own. He could feel the thrum of Joshua’s heartbeat under his palm. When he finally took Joshua’s cock into his mouth, he heard a sharp intake of breath from above him. Joshua was thick and heavy on his tongue, and Sandy savored the weight and feel of him. He did his best, using every trick he knew, wanting to give Joshua the same mind-blowing pleasure he had just received. He could feel Joshua’s hand in his hair, guiding him, encouraging him, the grip firm but not painful.
After a few minutes, Joshua gently pulled him away. “Come here,” he said, his voice thick with desire. He reached over to his discarded jeans on the floor and pulled a small foil packet and a bottle of lube from his pocket.
Sandy’s breath hitched. He watched as Joshua tore open the packet and rolled the condom down over his erection, his movements efficient and practiced. He squeezed a dollop of clear gel onto his fingers and looked at Sandy.
“How do you want it?” he asked.
Sandy’s mind raced. He wanted everything. “You first,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Joshua nodded, a hungry glint in his eyes. He positioned himself between Sandy’s legs, lifting them onto his shoulders. He pressed a slick finger against Sandy’s entrance, circling it slowly before pushing inside. Sandy gasped at the intrusion, a mix of pleasure and a slight, burning stretch. Joshua worked him open patiently, first one finger, then two, scissoring them, stretching him, preparing him. All the while, his eyes were locked on Sandy’s, watching his every reaction.
When he was finally ready, Joshua lined himself up and pushed forward. He entered Sandy in one slow, smooth, deliberate thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Sandy cried out, his back arching off the bed. It was intense, a feeling of being completely and utterly filled, possessed. Joshua paused for a moment, letting Sandy adjust, before he began to move.
He started slow, a deep, rhythmic rocking that sent waves of pleasure through Sandy’s body with every stroke. He angled his hips, and suddenly he was hitting that spot deep inside, the one that made stars explode behind Sandy’s eyes. Sandy was lost in a haze of sensation, the sounds of their bodies moving together, their harsh breathing, the obscene slap of skin on skin filling the room. He reached down and began to stroke his own cock in time with Joshua’s thrusts, chasing his release.
Joshua’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, more demanding. He was chasing his own climax now. “Come for me, Sandy,” he grunted, his voice strained. “I want to feel you come.”
That was all it took. The command, combined with the relentless stimulation, sent Sandy over the edge. He cried out Joshua’s name as his orgasm ripped through him, his cock pulsing as he spilled over his own stomach and chest. The clenching of his muscles around Joshua’s shaft was enough to push Joshua over the edge with him. He drove into Sandy one last time, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his own release.
They collapsed onto the bed, a sweaty, panting, sated tangle of limbs. Joshua stayed inside him for a moment before slowly withdrawing, disposing of the condom in the wastebasket beside the bed. He lay down beside Sandy, pulling the covers up over them both.
They lay in silence for a long time, the only sound their breathing slowly returning to normal. Sandy’s body felt heavy and boneless, suffused with a warm, post-coital glow. He turned his head to look at Joshua, who was staring up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling steadily. In the dim light of the city filtering through the blinds, he looked even more handsome, his features relaxed and peaceful.
Sandy took a deep breath, the scent of sweat and sex and Joshua’s cologne filling his lungs. A feeling of contentment washed over him, so profound it almost hurt. This was what he’d been missing. This connection, this intensity.
“I could see doing this on a regular basis,” Sandy said, his voice soft but clear. He meant it. He could see lazy Sunday mornings, quick weekday afternoons, stolen nights. He could see more than just a random mall hookup.
The words hung in the air, shattering the post-orgasmic peace. Joshua didn’t turn his head. He continued to stare at the ceiling. The silence that followed was heavy, charged with a tension that hadn’t been there moments before.
Finally, Joshua spoke, his voice flat and devoid of its earlier warmth. “I’m married.”
The two words hit Sandy like a punch to the gut. All the air went out of his lungs. He felt a cold dread seep into his veins, extinguishing the warm glow in an instant. He stared at Joshua’s profile, unable to process what he’d just heard.
“My wife is out of town,” Joshua continued, his tone matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather. “Visiting her sister. She gets back tomorrow night.”
He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and began to gather his clothes from the floor, dressing with a quick, efficient indifference. The man who had been so passionate and connected moments ago was gone, replaced by this cold, distant stranger.
Sandy just lay there, frozen, watching him. He felt sick, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. He felt used, cheap, and incredibly stupid.
Joshua pulled on his sweater and then his jeans. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his boots, not looking at Sandy. When he was fully dressed, he finally stood and turned. He looked down at Sandy, who was still naked and exposed under the sheets.
“You give great head,” Joshua said, his voice casual, almost clinical. “And you have a tight pussy.” The crude words were like salt in the wound. He gave a small, dismissive shrug. “I had a great time.”
He turned and walked out of the bedroom without a backward glance. A moment later, Sandy heard the front door open and then click shut.
He was alone. The silence of the apartment was deafening. Sandy stared up at the ceiling, the ghost of Joshua’s touch still on his skin, the echo of his words still ringing in his ears. He could feel the stickiness on his stomach, the lingering ache in his body. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was Joshua’s handsome face, that devastating smile, and the cold, empty look in his eyes as he’d delivered the final blow. The afternoon had started with so much promise, but it had ended with nothing but the bitter taste of a lie.
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