Chapter Text
As he was filling the cash register drawer, the bell on the door rang, and Erik looked up. “Finally,” he said as Alex approached, carrying a tray with two coffees, and the paper. “You know, some of us have been up since five.”
From under his blond, floppy hair, Alex smirked, setting down the tray and the paper. “Like you can’t afford any coffeemaker you want. You’re doing pretty well for yourself here, even if you’ve only been open for six months. Besides, not all of us are crazy enough to wake up at five just to torture ourselves with running.”
“It so happens that you owe me a coffee, and might I add, taking up running might do you some good. Still time to get into shape for Valentine’s Day.”
“Valentine’s Day is in a week, and I haven’t had any complaints yet.” Of course he hadn’t—Erik was joking, because Alex was younger than he was and good-looking, although not Erik’s type at all—he preferred bookish with dark hair to jockish with blond. Still, lack of mutual interest aside, they’d struck up a friendship after meeting at the gym: the first friendship Erik had in Port Valentine, which still felt very new.
“Just be prepared,” Erik told him, dry. “A place like this, Port Valentine—they’ve got high standards for their namesake holiday.” Erik hadn’t lived here long, but he’d never seen anything like it. The entire town went all out for Valentine’s Day—red, pink, and white everywhere, parades, crazy contests and promotions.
“You old cynic,” Alex said.
“I’ve simply never been one for Valentine’s Day,” Erik told him. “Have you ever heard of a relationship actually being bolstered by cards, flowers, and romantic gestures just because of a commercial holiday? Seems like it does more harm than good.”
“Actually, I think it’s kinda nice. Plus it boosts the local economy. Which you, as a store owner, should appreciate.”
“Yes, nothing boosts the hardware industry like Valentine’s Day.” Erik closed the cash drawer, and took his coffee. “Why did you bring the paper? Started keeping up with the news now?”
“Just saw something that might interest you.” Alex looked unusually triumphant and smug, which was saying something. He took out a folded section of the paper, turned to a page that read “Port Valentine Missed Connections,” and passed it to Erik. “This remind you of anything?” he asked, indicating an ad he’d circled in red. “Like… say… something you were telling me about last month?”
Frowning, Erik read aloud. “‘We met at Club Forty-Five a month ago and I can’t get you out of my head. I didn’t even get your name, but we had a great night together. I was hoping for more. Please meet me at Lockhart’s on Valentine’s Day at seven p.m.’” He swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat, and looked up at Alex. “What does this have to do with me?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Erik. Come on. You don’t think that sounds exactly like that guy you were telling me about?”
“Hundreds of people have to meet at Club Forty-Five a week, let alone a month.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t get his name, did you? And he didn’t get yours.”
“Again, that has to happen constantly.”
“And you told me it was a great night.”
“If that amount of time counted as a night, I did tell you that. Because it was.”
“So? Why not be at the meeting place on Valentine’s Day, see if I’m wrong and you’re right?”
“As much as I love proving you wrong—”
“Which you do—”
“—Which I do, this is silly, Alex.” Erik realized his heart was beating faster. “Imagine, I get there and there are dozens of guys there waiting.”
“Then it sounds like it would be a great… networking opportunity,” Alex rejoined, with a smirk. “Look, I just feel like this is the guy, okay?”
“Why? That’s absurd.”
Alex pointed to the ad. “He’s so polite in this. You said he was polite.”
“He was. Lots of people are polite.”
“Stop being stubborn. I remember you moping after that night. You miss him, you want to see him again. Find him.”
Erik sighed. “Look—”
“Just promise me you’ll go. It’ll be easy. Go there, then when you see it’s not him, you can leave. Easy, right? Then you can lord it over me.”
“Alex—”
“Come on, man. You need this. Admit it.”
Erik sighed. “Fine, all right. I’ll see if it’s him.”
“Good!”
“But I’m sure it’s not.”
“Then we’ll see, won’t we?”
“Yes, we will.” Erik put the section of the newspaper behind the counter, and downed the rest of his coffee.
He realized his heart was still pounding. He hadn’t remotely expected to hear anything about that man again, let alone in the newspaper. Erik actually did agree with Alex that the ad was most likely placed by his mystery man—someone he’d been trying to put out of his mind for weeks now as someone he’d probably never see again—even though the assumption was absurd, for the reasons he himself had spelled out.
Yet something about it felt right.
Or was that just wishful thinking?
For the rest of the day, Erik’s mind was almost completely occupied by anticipation of a possible reunion with the man. Being so distracted wasn’t a great look for a hardware store owner, and Erik was glad when it was time to close.
He made his way home through the chilly streets, wrapped in a scarf against the cold February air, finding himself wondering again if he’d see the man out here on the sidewalk like himself, scanning the crowd.
At home, freezing, Erik decided to take a hot shower before bed. His apartment was dark and cold, but in the shower, under the warm spray, Erik could close his eyes, feel the water pounding against his bare skin, and allow himself to think about the man again.
Alex had no idea what had really gone down at Club Forty-Five. It was a gay club, yes, and it was known for its back rooms and overall permissiveness, so it was easy enough to assume that yes, Erik had met someone, they’d had a good time, and hadn’t gotten each other’s names. Happened all the time, like Erik had told Alex.
But it wasn’t that simple. Not with this man.
Alex also had a bit of an idea about Erik’s proclivities, even felt comfortable teasing him about how his hardware store had plenty of chains of all different types. Alex still didn’t know what all that did for Erik, why he liked it. And frankly, it wasn’t the sort of thing he really wanted to discuss with him—it was far too personal. At most all he’d made was a passing remark. But it wasn’t that he wasn’t ashamed—Erik didn’t really do shame. He was simply private, that was all.
Under the spray, stinging and hot, Erik once again went over the already well-worn groove that was the memory of his night with the man.
He’d been at the bar, on an evening that so far had been shaping up to be rather boring. Erik had started to wonder why he’d even gone—he rarely found anyone who was into the same things he was into in the way Erik wanted them to be.
A man had nudged up next to him, had obviously seen Erik’s nearly-empty glass, and raised a finger to the bartender. “Another one for my friend here, please,” Erik had heard, in what sounded like a foreign accent, even in the noise and chaos of the club.
“I don’t—” he said, turning to the man.
The man smiled at him with a clever red mouth and arresting blue eyes. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t need another drink,” Erik insisted.
“My apologies, then,” he said, nodding to the bartender as he slid a drink Erik’s way. “Do me a favor and drink that one anyway, won’t you?”
Scowling, Erik downed it. The man was shorter than he was, but he looked stocky, well built. But given the fact that Erik was taller, broader, and dressed in black, he’d found that people made assumptions about what he wanted and why he was at this club in the first place.
“I’m not into what you think I am,” he said to the man over the din.
“What do I think you’re into?”
“You know—”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” the man said. “Perhaps I could hear you better in the back.” He smiled, meaningfully, and turned, and Erik set down his glass and followed.
“Here,” the man said, guiding him into an empty room, much quieter with the door closed. The walls were dark red. “Now you can tell me what I think you’re into. Please, have a seat.”
Erik sat on the black leather chair. The man remained standing, and stepped closer to Erik. Away from the crush of people, Erik could see he was in dark, well-fitting jeans, boots, and a tight black shirt. He folded his arms, and waited patiently for Erik to speak. He had pale skin, silky-looking brown hair, and of course there were those astonishing blue eyes.
Erik swallowed, and then cleared his throat. Just because his heart was pounding and his cock was getting hard didn’t mean he couldn’t stand his ground… even if he was already sitting, and fighting the urge to slide to the floor on his knees. Something about the way the man was standing with his feet apart, so confident but effortlessly casual about it, the way he was regarding him with that appraising gaze….
“People assume,” Erik said, “that I’m into... domination. Dominating others.”
“Are you?”
Erik shook his head. “No.”
“No, I thought not,” the man agreed, stepping closer.
“How on earth could you tell that by looking at me?”
“Lucky guess,” the man said with a smile. “Well, more than that. A hunch I had. Then I told you to come back here, and you did. Put your hands behind your back,” he added, and Erik moved to do it without thinking, then stopped, mouth dropping open slightly. The man’s smile widened.
Erik frowned.
“I think you must have made some assumptions about me as well,” the man said, and there was definitely an accent there. British. “Do you assume everyone coming up to you in clubs wants to be dominated?”
“If they’re coming up to me, they usually do,” Erik countered.
“Yes, must be something to do with your height and your sort of brooding air. While I can understand it, I don’t know why they can’t see what I can see,” he mused.
“Are you going to analyze me some more or are we back here for a reason other than talking?” Erik huffed.
“Well, if I’m being totally honest, I can’t stop thinking about you on your knees sucking my cock,” the man said, sending a jolt through Erik. He closed his eyes for a moment, since that was exactly what Erik had been thinking about, too.
Erik blinked, touching the tip of his tongue to his lower lip. He watched the man’s eyes darken. “You just met me and you immediately think I’ll go down on my knees?” he asked, trying to sound sarcastic, his mouth dry. “Not even a kiss first?”
“If it’s a kiss you want—” the man said, stepping forward, resting his weight on his hands on the arms of the chair, bending down to kiss him.
As his lips met Erik’s, he put one knee between Erik’s thighs, the other between Erik’s leg and the chair’s side, shifting Erik back against the soft, yielding cushion; with that, he was completely in Erik’s space, over him, filling his senses. One hand went to Erik’s jaw as he tilted his mouth against Erik’s, gliding the tip of his tongue into the parting of Erik’s lips; the hand slid to his neck, then to the top of his head to curl in his hair, pulling his head back just slightly, directing his movement in the kiss.
Erik was dizzy with it, feeling as though his air was being stolen, that he had to breathe it in from this man and his slow, deep, determined kisses.
Erik groped blindly for the man’s sides, moving his hands up under his shirt, feeling his own cock throb at the man’s appreciative purr low in his throat at the touch. His skin was warm and smooth under Erik’s calloused hands. He slid his palms and fingertips along the small of the man’s back, then as far up under his shirt as he could go. The man’s thigh rubbed against Erik’s cock through his jeans; he began to work his tongue against Erik’s in a rhythm, then echoed it with his thigh, until Erik was practically rutting back against him.
It was then that Erik’s phone rang, and he recognized the ringtone as the one he used for his mother.
With a gasp, he wrenched his mouth from the man’s, blinking dazedly at him as he shifted back, pushing the man away somewhat and fumbling in his pocket for his phone, groaning inwardly at how hard he was and how incredibly inopportune this was. At the same time, he felt what was almost relief at having a reason to extricate himself from something that was quickly becoming almost frighteningly intense. She’d keep calling until he answered, anyway—his mother didn’t leave messages, and it might be an emergency—
“Hallo, Mama,” he said into the phone, breathless, answered by a stream of his mother’s German.
The man looked on, amused, eyes narrowed; he arched a brow, in seeming incredulity. “Shall I leave you to your phone call?” he murmured, standing up fully, flushed and with quite a lump at his fly, a little disheveled but not looking to be as nearly discombobulated as Erik felt. “It seems it’s quite an important one.”
Erik waved a hand impatiently at him, distracted by both trying to listen to his mother and extricate his mind from very vivid and recent memories of what he’d just gotten up to with this man.
With a bright chuckle, the man shook his head. “All right then, off I go,” he said, with a sigh, and before Erik could say otherwise or protest, he opened the door, and left.
Erik shot upright, stumbling. “Wait!” he called. “Nein, nicht du, Mama,” he said into his phone.
He tried to follow the man and find him again—it was no use. The club was too dark and crowded.
He went outside to finish his call with his mother—it was the next day where she lived, and she was very casual about timezones, but it wasn’t an emergency after all—and walked home. And that was the end of his all-too-short encounter with the man.
In the combination of fantasy and memory he’d returned to again and again in the shower for the past month, however, the kiss continued. Or, instead of a kiss, Erik dropped to his knees right away, unbuttoned him, drew down his zipper, and sucked him off: taking him in as far as he could go, swallowing him down in a way that wasn’t exactly safe to do with a stranger.
Sometimes he got off just from that thought; other times, he imagined the man kneeling down with him afterward, getting a hand in his pants, and making him come like that with just a few strokes, as he kissed Erik, tasting himself in Erik’s mouth—
In the shower, those thoughts swirling wildly in his mind like soapy water down the drain, he came in a few tight, fast strokes, gasping and shuddering.
And this time, he was also thinking about that ad. Yes, he’d go—he’d see if this man was his mystery man. On Valentine’s Day, the biggest day in this town. There was a strong possibility that he’d be completely wrong (it would be understandable if the man had given up on him once he’d allowed them to be interrupted by a phone call from his mother), but, well, it might be his only shot, and despite what he’d indicated to Alex, in trying to play it off, he really did want to see that man again. He had suspected that when he’d first mentioned it to Alex—leaving out quite a few bits, but leaving in what was really important—that his studied casualness had betrayed him, and apparently Alex had clued in right away and figured something was up.
The orgasm, and the hot water, had him definitely sleepy after a long day of thinking about the man and the ad, whether he’d wanted to or not. He got into bed and had no trouble falling asleep, even though it was cold in his bedroom and he could have used the warmth of another body, even a dog or cat, but preferably that bright-eyed man with the sinful mouth.
Erik had spent a long time assuming there was no one out there really for him—he’d accepted that no one really seemed to understand him, that he was too much trouble to deal with. He could be curt, guarded, difficult to know. And as he’d just moved here, there was an uphill battle in seeking out new friends, new people to be with.
Much less did anyone really seem to understand what he wanted in bed—it was foreign to most guys that someone like him didn’t want to take the lead, take control, dole out punishments or pain or even do all the fucking. Erik was fine with changing things up, but—and this was hard to admit to himself, let alone strangers—he wanted to be dominated, not just by any random leather daddy, but by someone who loved him and cared for who and what he was, accepting him totally, understanding him easily. That had seemed even more unreachable than just making a few friends in a new place. But he had a very strong feeling, whether it was nonsensical or not, that this mystery man might be the one for that, and this ad really felt like the chance Erik had been waiting for.
But whether that was really the case remained to be seen.