Who We Are Page 10

  And she looked fucking fabulous.

  Grabbing my top hat off the hook by the door, I placed it on an angle on top of my head, stroking through my mid-length, sleek black wig that fell on a slant along my jaw, as I made my way to the side of the stage to watch Violet finish up her act. We were completely different performers, the only similarity being that we both actually sang. Some queens chose to lip sync, which was fun and people still loved to watch, but Rhys and I had the voices to belt the lyrics out ourselves. Some queens didn’t even sing at all. Here at Glitter, they hosted drag comedy nights, fashion shows, and one girl – Trudy Diamond – had a magic act. It was all about variety in this game. Violet was hilarious, her voice deep and her act filled with jokes, innuendos, and pranks. Me? I just loved to sing. Dance. Flirt with the crowd. I loved every single second of it.

  I spotted Seb, sitting alone at a table to the left of the stage, as Violet announced her final song. His gaze was locked on Violet, his eyes glassy – probably from laughter – and his cheeks were beaming red. He looked happy. Gorgeous. Fucking delicious. Too far away…

  When the intro began for Violet’s song I knew what would follow soon, and after what she said in the dressing room I had a sneaky suspicion it may well involve Sebastian Day. Bringing the mic to her lips, her gruff voice belted out the lyrics to her version of Katy Perry’s I kissed a Girl, only she swapped out girl for boy. I’d seen Violet perform this track enough times to know that in about ten seconds she would walk down the six steps off the stage and start molesting a poor unsuspecting man in the audience.

  Yep. There she goes.

  Seb muttered something I couldn’t hear and shook his head, laughter betraying his protest as Violet took his hand and pulled him from his chair, dragging him towards the stage. Once there, the crowd cheered Violet on as she gyrated her hips against Seb, running her hands up and down his chest. Seb simply stood there and let it happen with an amused grin on his face, but I was fairly sure he wouldn’t sit so close to the stage again. That was if he ever returned at all…

  When the music came to an end, Violet puckered her plump lips and smacked a loud kiss on Seb’s cheek, leaving vivid red lipstick stains on his skin, before hovering her ear in front of his mouth. Seb looked confused, probably because he wasn’t saying anything, but only I could see that from where I stood.

  “What’s that, sweetheart?” Violet said. “You want me to go home with you and ride you like I stole you?” Pulling back, she clamped a hand to her chest. “What kind of lady do you think I am?”

  Seb started laughing and she shooed him away, chasing him off the stage. “Security! We’ve got a pervert over here!”

  If it’d been anyone else I might’ve felt sorry for him, but Seb could take it. Honestly, he almost deserved a little humiliation for being such a smartarse.

  “Well, boys and girls, it’s past this old bird’s bedtime, but if you’ve got nothin’ better to do, stick around for my favourite hussy in the business. Miss Tique will be with you shortly!”

  Claps and whistles erupted from the crowd as Violet blew a kiss and sauntered off the stage. “They’re a lively bunch tonight, eh?” she said when she reached me.

  I hadn’t really noticed because I’d been watching only one man. “I was too busy watching you molest my boyfriend.”

  Wait… Was he my boyfriend? Boyfriend implied relationship. Were we in a relationship? It’d only been a week, and we hadn’t even done anything sexual yet. In fact, all we’d done is been on one date, kissed, and text each other a lot. That didn’t seem to qualify as a relationship, yet somehow it felt like one.

  “I was simply being a good friend. Sampling the goods to make sure they’re good enough for my girl.” She winked, patting me on the shoulder.

  “And is he?”

  “Let’s just say if you don’t jump him soon I will. Now get that sexy tush o’ yours on stage.”

  Blowing a fast burst of air through puckered lips, I nodded and climbed the steps to the darkened stage, taking up my position in front of the mic stand. Head bowed, I took hold of the mic stand with one hand and bent my other arm at the elbow, ready to click my fingers in rhythm with the music.

  The spotlight opened above me as the intro to Blame it on the Girls by Mika started playing. I offered perfectly timed juts of my hip and snaps of my fingers in time with the beat of the music before turning my face towards the mic and letting the lyrics pour from my lips. My expression was sultry, my eyes narrowed, as I locked my gaze onto Seb’s. Tonight, this show was for him, and I wanted him to know it.

  When the tempo sped up, I removed my mic from the stand, bending my torso and pushing out my arse a little as I rolled my shoulder back and forth to the rhythm. Seb’s lips curled into a glorious smile, making Miss Tique’s confidence shoot through the roof. I bent lower, running my finger from the base of my boot, up my leg, before hitching my tight skirt up a little and revealing the string of my purple thong.

  Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, Seb cocked an eyebrow and shifted a little in his chair. Another guy whistled, but I didn’t see who, as I removed my top hat, flicked my hair, and strutted to the other side of the stage to finish the song. I’d always loved being here, on stage, singing and dancing. But being here with those big brown eyes trained on me, made it my most favourite place in the whole world.

  After the show, I’d barely stepped into the dressing room when a set of strong arms snaked around my waist from behind, spun me around, and pinned me to the wall. I sucked in a startled breath, my pulse throbbing in my ears and refusing to calm even when I saw Seb’s face just inches from mine.

  This is what I missed when we were apart – the way he looked at me, the way he saw me. In make-up, out of it, in drag, as myself…he always looked like he only saw me. Oliver. Sometimes, even I didn’t know who that was, but Seb did, and he accepted it, accepted me.

  Of course, he couldn’t possibly know all of me because I hadn’t shown him yet. I wanted to. I wanted to talk about my past, tell him about Tyler, but…I was afraid. I liked him. I cared about him. My brain tried to tell my heart to slow down but, seemingly, my heart was a stubborn arsehole that took orders from no one. I liked the attention, the feel of his hands on me. I liked having someone to talk to, someone to laugh with.

  I didn’t feel so alone in the world anymore…and I didn’t want to scare him away by announcing I came with responsibilities, although I knew the moment would come eventually. The thought made me sad.

  A small smile danced on one side of his lips as he studied my face, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. “You were incredible up there.”

  I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the tiny specs of dark grey in his rich brown eyes as I relished the warmth of his touch on my face.

  “And you wore purple,” he said, his tone teasing as his other hand skimmed my thigh and delved under my skirt, squeezing my arse.

  “S-stop it,” I stuttered, pushing him away before tugging on the lapels of my fitted black jacket. It felt like it was choking me. He was too close. His hands on my skin, his breath on my face. It was too much.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression crumpled in confusion, maybe even a little hurt.

  He didn’t understand and it made me chuckle. “What’s wrong is that I’m insanely turned on right now, and my dick is currently tucked into a very awkward position.”

  “Ah,” he murmured, grinning as he gave a knowing nod. “I see.”

  “Just…wait here,” I told him when an idea popped into my head.

  Maybe we weren’t in a relationship, but I knew I wanted more with this man. I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to know what he felt like everywhere. I wanted to know what he tasted like, what he sounded like when he came. I wanted to know what he looked like when he slept, whether he was a toast or cereal kinda breakfast guy. Even if it was just for tonight, I wanted it. Wanted him.

  But I didn’t want to take him bac
k to my shithole house with my lumpy mattress and mouldy ceilings.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping Violet’s shoulder, interrupting her chatting up some bald guy with a ring in his nose.

  “What can I do for ya, sugar tits?”

  “Can I borrow your flat for tonight?”

  She grabbed at my cheeks and gave them a squeeze. Pretty hard, too. It actually hurt a little. “Oomph! Give him a thrust from me!”

  “Is that a yes?” I asked, rubbing the sting out of my cheeks.

  “Sure. I’ll crash at Davey’s. Three rules – no spunking in the kitchen, don’t use my room, and wash the sheets after. There’s a spare key in my bag.”

  Puckering my lips, I kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

  “You better. I usually charge for my brothel services.”

  Back in the dressing room, I fished through Rhys’ holdall until I found the key for his flat.

  “What’s that for?” Seb asked when I dangled the shiny blue key in the air.

  “I’m taking you somewhere I can un-tuck and you can grab my arse until your heart’s content,” I said with the confidence only Miss Tique could bring. “If you want to, that is.”

  A small shudder rolled through Seb’s body, causing his breath to stutter. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Five

  ~Sebastian~

  AS OLIVER LED me into his friend’s flat, I knew there was only one reason we were here. This was it. The big moment. We were going to have sex tonight…and I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. It’s not that I didn’t want to, because holy shit, my dick had wanted nothing more since the moment he’d dropped that tray of empty glasses, but now I wasn’t thinking with my dick.

  My mind had taken over, and it wouldn’t quit reminding me how inexperienced I was. Out of my three relationships, only one of those had been with a man. I’d done my fair share of experimenting in my late teens, and had the occasional one night stand in my early twenties, but I was grossly out of practice.

  The fact is sex with men is different. It requires a little more planning and communication. There’s a higher risk of you having different expectations or being sexually incompatible, and damn, I wanted so badly to be compatible with Oliver. I’d already had the tiniest taste of what this man sounded like when he was hard and I wanted more of it.

  Inside the spacious flat, Oliver tossed his bag onto the hardwood floor next to the L-shaped sofa in the middle of the room. It felt a tad strange referring to him as Oliver when he was still dressed as Miss Tique. I couldn’t look at him, or her, without smiling. He looked impressive. Utterly stunning. The look played tricks on my mind, like those magic eye pictures that were all the rage back in the nineties. I found myself getting lost in his smoky eyes, framed by the longest lashes I’d ever seen in my life. Then my gaze would drop to those perfect cheekbones, those purple lips that turned me on so much…and I’d see that stubble that felt so good against my mouth and it would remind me that he was very much all man.

  “Nice place,” I said, looking around the contemporarily decorated flat.

  He lifted his lips into a half smile before teasing his fingers under the edges of his silky black wig and lifting it off his head. After placing it on the sofa, he peeled some kind of tape from his temples and then ruffled through his own hair with his fingers. “We can make small talk, or we can take a shower,” he said, bending to unzip his boots.

  He seemed to do it in slow motion, and all I could do was stare as he peeled the leather from his deliciously sculpted, hairless legs. I didn’t know if it was the costume he wore, the rush of performing, or whether we’d simply got to know each other better, but a whole new man stood in front of me. Confidence oozed from his every pore, from his voice, his stance, the way he held himself. It turned me the hell on.

  I replied with actions, bringing my hands up to my shirt and unfastening the buttons from the collar down. Oliver grinned, shrugging out of the fitted black jacket he wore before tossing it onto the floor. It felt a little like we were battling in some kind of strip show challenge, each of us silently daring the other to go one step further.

  By the time we were naked, my breaths came in harsh, deep pants. Oliver stood two steps, too far, away from me, his hand curled around the back of his neck. His body mesmerised me. Tall. Lean. Defined. His cock beautifully hard and falling at a slight angle. I needed to know if his skin felt as smooth as it looked, tasted as delectable as it smelled.

  Stepping forward, but not close enough to touch, I leaned into his ear. “So where’s this shower?”

  Dropping his head just a little, Oliver walked away and I followed. The bathroom was relatively small, but the freestanding shower cubicle easily big enough for two people. Oliver reached inside, switched on the water and backed away quickly for a few seconds until it heated up.

  “After you,” he said once he’d tested the temperature with a swish of his hand.

  I’d barely stepped under the warm spray when arms wrapped around my waist, turning my body to face him. His newfound confidence unwavering, he pressed his chest to mine, forcing my back against the cool tiles. As the water rained over his face, causing the dark make-up around his eyes to melt away in pretty spirals down his cheeks, he raised his hand and cupped my neck.

  I leaned into his touch, groaning at how good it felt. “Mmm,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his.

  This felt incredible. He felt incredible. His cock rested just below mine, his swollen tip rubbing against my hard shaft as I grabbed at his arse and pulled him closer. His hand left my neck and I missed the warmth instantly. Reaching up to the shelf unit in the corner, he grabbed a bottle of shower gel and popped the lid, drizzling the green crème all over my chest before doing the same to his.

  Bringing my hands to his front, I massaged the gel into his skin as he dropped the bottle on the floor, tea tree and mint exploding in my nose as I worked the lather into the grooves of his chest and shoulders before spreading it down his slender back. He rolled his neck, moaning softly as I explored his body. That moan had become my new favourite sound in the world.

  I needed him to do it again, which is why I took hold of his hips and flipped us around before pressing my lips to his. This kiss was different to our others. This kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with need and promise. His fingers dug into my wet hair as my tongue delved further into his mouth, tangling with his, licking, teasing, tasting, savouring the flavour of sweet plum lip-gloss. And then came the response I was pushing for…

  That luscious moan that sparked shivers deep in my spine.

  “I want to fuck you so bad right now,” he practically growled into my mouth, tugging roughly on my hair.

  Inside, I froze a little, and tried to disguise it by burying my face in his neck. This was the communication part I mentioned. The compatibility. It didn’t make sense that the nerves had returned because I wasn’t a virgin when it came to bottoming. In fact, it was something I’d always enjoyed. It had just been a while, and I guess in my head I’d assumed Oliver was a bottom without realising it, and now I felt unprepared.

  “Hey.” What sounded like concern dripped from Oliver’s voice as he lifted my chin with his finger, almost as if he could sense my doubts. “If you don’t bottom, I can.” His smile was genuine, reassuring.

  “It’s just been a while,” I admitted, which sounded pretty lame once I’d said it out loud.

  Still smiling, he reached down and wrapped his long, manicured fingers around the base of my cock, “I can be gentle.”

  “Oh God…” I choked out, sucking in a hiss as he tightened his grip.

  Lowering his head, he peppered feather-light kisses over my jaw, along my neck, and then slowly moved onto my chest before dropping to his knees.

  Oh fuck…

  He picked the bottle of shower gel back up and squirted a generous amount onto his hand. Raising his arms, he lathered soap into my stomach, over my hips, and then down my legs, keeping his gaze locked on mine the
entire time. His mouth was right there, mere inches from my aching cock, but he was tormenting me and he knew it.

  “Suck my dick, Oliver,” I said, my voice hoarse, desperate.

  He offered nothing more than a small wiggle of his eyebrows as he carried on smoothing the fragrant lather into my thighs. He continued his torturous assault for what felt like hours, edging closer and closer to where I needed him to be with every sweep of his hands.

  “Ah, fuck yes,” I breathed when his fingers stroked over my weeping cock. The soap helped him glide effortlessly over my skin as he encased me in his fist and worked it up and down, adding delicious pressure and then taking it away.

  Fucking perfect.

  Oliver shifted slightly, allowing the jets of water to shower over my cock, washing the suds away, and then he opened his mouth, looking up at me through those huge lashes, and took me straight to the back of his throat.

  “Christ…” My legs quivered as he enveloped my dick in heat and I had to steady myself with my hand on the slippery tiles to the side of me. My other hand fisted his hair, and I watched myself drag those perfect lips up and down my cock.

  Fuck, he was beautiful. Even with smudged make-up running down his cheeks and that purple smile smearing onto my dick he was the most magnificent thing I’d ever seen.

  Pushing against the hold I had on his head, he released my cock and kissed along my balls, using his hand to encourage my legs to part. Working his way between my thighs, his finger glided between the cheeks of my arse, seeking my hole, while he licked and nipped the seam of my balls with his mouth.

  “Ah…yes…” I moaned, my knees buckling slightly when he pushed the tip of his finger inside me. He delved a little further, a little deeper, and the pressure sent a wave of pleasure coursing through my spine. “Fuck.”

  And then his touch disappeared.

  “What are you-”

  Rising to his feet, he kissed me softly, leisurely, torturing me all over again. “We need to move this to the bedroom,” he whispered against my lips.