This is from a very early draft of Bad Reputation, in which Shane is lonely on Thanksgiving and makes some bad bathroom decisions.
Thanksgiving had never been that big of a deal in Shane’s family. Before she died his Grandma usually made a nice dinner, made him and his grandfather put on dress shirts. It was special but nothing fancy. Later, when they’d moved to the trailer, he and Grandpa had gone and eaten with Sandy and Dixon in their small house. Going back to Port Angeles for the day wouldn’t have been possible, but even thinking about Aunt Sandy and Dixon made sitting and eating alone at the counter at Woolworth’s more depressing.
“You need anything else, sweetie?” The waitress asked, holding her pad ready.
“No, thank you. It was great,” Shane answered, wiping his mouth and pushing his empty plate across the counter toward her. She tore a check off her pad and handed it to him.
“You working today?” She asked.
Shane agreed he was, the lie less depressing than any other answer.
“Terrible for us isn’t it?” She went on. “I got my plans with my family this weekend to make up for it though, hope you see yours too.”
“I will. Happy Thanksgiving,” Shane said, standing a lifting his jacket off the back of the stool. At the far end of the counter a man was drinking coffee, his dinner long since finished. The guy looked familiar, maybe Shane had seen him at the Baths before, but dark slicked back hair and thick mustache, seemed to be standard for half the gay men he saw anymore, all clones of each other, so he couldn’t be sure. He was sure the guy had been cruising him when he came in.
Putting on his jacket slowly, Shane turned to the waitress, “Bathrooms in the back?” He asked loud enough for the guy to hear.
“Yeah, darlin’, far corner.” She pointed.
Detouring past the man, Shane made eye contact and then looked away and turned toward the bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man slip some coins on the counter and grab his jacket.
Shane was standing at the sinks wondering if he’d been wrong, when two minutes later the man entered the bathroom. He made eye contact and nodded toward a stall. Shane followed.
“Looking for something?” The man whispered.
Shane made a noncommittal movement of his head but sank to his knees when the man started to undo the buttons on his jeans.
Tile was cold through his jeans, but Shane ignored it, reaching to help push down his partner’s jeans.
As soon as he had his mouth on the man’s half hard dick Shane knew this was a bad idea. In Port Angeles it had always been fun, the furtive hook ups. It wasn’t just the sex, or the danger of it, it was everything, the only real connection he had to other men the way he wanted. There’d been a punch or two thrown, and a few threats, but usually it was quick and it was wonderful. Now Shane’s stomach tightened remembering the beating he’d taken a month ago, but it was more than that. Now there was the Baths, where everyone was free to be who they were, ask what they wanted. Now there was the possibility of something even more than that. Bash.
Shane wasn’t stupid, he knew he had no chance with a good, normal guy like Bash, but he wanted it. Wanted him, in some way he’d never really desired before. He knew it wouldn’t be Bash, but maybe it would be someone and that would be better than going backwards, back to anonymous bathroom hook ups.
Shane slipped his mouth down, wetting as much of as the man’s cock as he could. He swallowed once, pushed back his gag reflex and slid down as far as he could, feeling curly hairs tickle his nose and breathing in the salty, male scent. He heard a soft thump that must have been his partner’s head hitting the stall door and felt a hand twine into his hair, almost too tight He slid his mouth back up, wrapping his hand around the cock, and licking and teasing his way back down and up the shaft.
Above him the mustached man moaned and used Shane’s hair, to set the pace Shane sucked at.
Shane sucked as much dick into his mouth as he could, using his wet, spit covered hand around the base, trying to match the rhythm of the man’s slow thrusts. Shane was getting hard despite himself, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, hearing the man whimper, tasting him.
“Gonna come.” Grunted from above him, the hand in his hair loosened, giving Shane a chance to pull back. But he didn’t, he jerked his hand faster, squeezing a little and trying to open his throat to take more. The man came faster than Shane expected, and he gagged a little but managed to swallow. He pulled off carefully when the man stopped moving.
Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Shane stood up. When his clone partner dropped to his knees, Shane didn’t object. He was hard now, needed to come. Shane shifted, letting the wall support his weight as the man below him made quick work of his jeans and pulled Shane’s cock out.
The rest of the day–of the world–vanished as he watched this stranger’s lips close over the head of his cock. The man wrapped his hand around the base of Shane’s dick and squeezed a little. Shane shivered, everything shifted so quickly.
Shane stopped thinking. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall as the man’s hot mouth slid down his length taking as much in as he could. He worked a slow rhythm, down hard and slowly back up. The cool air felt almost as good on Shane’s wet cock as this anonymous mouth did, though it was the mouth that made his balls draw up too soon, way too soon. Working his hand a little, in counterpoint to his mouth; the man squeezed and stroked over Shane’s spit-slick dick to fill the void of his mouth moving off.
Shane opened his eyes and looked down. His knees felt shaky as he watched the man’s mouth stretch obscenely over heated flesh. Shane’s blood zoomed, flashing in a steady pulse against the inside of his skin. His hips rocked with it. The man gagged a little as Shane pushed in too far, but he didn’t stop, and Shane bucked harder in to those obscenely red lips. Teeth grazed him for a second; the sensation so intense that his head cracked against wall behind him as he tried to jerk away from it. Laughter bubbled up from outside. Could the people in the diner could hear how hard Shane was breathing? Those thoughts fell apart in the heat of this man’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Shane gritted as the man pinned Shane to the wall, fingers curled tight against Shane’s hip bone. The man opened his throat and pushed Shane to another level of heat, rushing pulse and electricity surging through his body. He couldn’t take this for very long–the very air around him felt like it was on the verge of exploding. Water streamed from the corners of the man’s eyes at his effort, but he didn’t stop even as Shane shoved his hips forward.
“Fuck, oh god, I’m gonna—” Shane tugged lightly at the stranger’s hair telling him to back off.
But he didn’t stop, he worked faster, bringing his hand back into the action, sliding his calloused palm wetly up the bottom half of Shane’s cock as Shane closed his eyes again.
Shane’s orgasm flashed, an inferno ripping through his body, pulsing red behind his eyes. His breath sped, slowed, then caught in his throat as pleasure tore through him and took everything with it as it passed, leaving him weak and blank. It took a second to figure out where he was. He blinked long and slow.
The man was all business, doing up Shane’s jeans up without looking at him.
Shane stayed in the stall, listening while the man washed up and left. He washed his own hands and face, rubbing them dry with rough, brown paper towels. Shane didn’t look in the mirror. He carefully checked the buttons on his jeans, made sure he was spotless.
Shane avoided looking toward the counter, afraid the waitress might notice him if he did. He walked to the door quickly, head down. In the the cold outside air he shook himself. It wasn’t regret exactly. He’d come, that’s why he’d led the man to the bathroom for in the first place. But it didn’t have the joy he wanted. Shane was as empty as before.
Shane walked the six blocks down First Avenue to the the Irving quickly. Dodging the little traffic there was, taking short cuts. He wasn’t eager to get back to his bunk, but he had nothing else today, except the hope he could lose himself in a book until he could sleep and escape this day.