Page 1 of Julian Shared (Secret Lives of Hot Twinks #2)

Joel

Ten years earlier…

“Who’s the redhead?” I tip the neck of my bottle toward the dance floor.

Among the throng of sweaty male bodies swaying along to the beat of the music, his swaying form sticks out. Even if he is a short and skinny thing. He’s smack-dab in the center of the action, surrounded by the crowd…but utterly alone.

He ain’t dancing with anyone.

A sweet little thing like him ought to be fighting off the grunts with a stick.

This club is well off from the local military installation, but this whole town is funded by army green. Every business, even the nearby university, can only keep the lights on because of soldiers like me.

“What?” My friend, Manuel, yells back. He hasn’t heard me. Could blame it on the music, but both our hearing went to shit years ago.

We can thank all those generous deliveries of mortar fire for that.

“The redhead!” I shout back, leaning shoulder to shoulder to meet my friend’s ear. “Who’s the redhead?”

I point out the subject of my interest again and Manuel stops ogling the bartender long enough to take a gander at the mystery boy.

I figure Manuel will have some intel. Ever since we lucked out and got posted here together, Manuel’s made it his personal mission to sleep with, or get rejected by, every piece of twink ass in town.

He practically lives at the club. Can’t blame him for it.

It’s the only local gay hot spot that has some semblance of dignity outside cruising areas. This sort of club ain’t my type of place, but I can’t be picky. And other military guys don't really do it for me.

I’m always on the lookout for the barracks bunnies.

Manuel does a double-take at the redhead before shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it, Joel.”

Well, now that he’s told me not to — I’m definitely thinking about it.

I set down my half-finished bottle with no intention of polishing it off.

“Joel, man, I mean it. Don’t stick your dick in crazy.” Manuel reaches for my arm, but I shrug him off. “That’s the post commander’s son.”

That ain’t a deterrent to me.

If anything, it’s a challenge.

And that makes it a turn on.

I push past the rowdy horde of dancers and make my way direct to my target. Yeah, that’s right. What was only a curious interest before has quickly turned into an obsessive need to not only hunt down, but acquire.

The club’s unofficial dress code is shiny black leather or weathered denim. The colonel’s son must not have gotten the memo because he’s wearing neither. He’s in a damn polo shirt with a sweater tied around his waist.

A real rose among thorns.

I opted for a pair of simple denim blue jeans over any fetish-y leather.

Or my fatigues. I might be an asshole, but I’m not one of those assholes who march around civilian spaces in uniform during their downtime.

I only wear my dog tags. That’s more than enough to draw out any barracks bunny from their burrow.

And, potentially, might lure a military brat with daddy issues my way.

In the middle of the dance floor, there’s no talking.

There’s only the music.

The techno blasting from the speakers isn’t really genre, but it goes fast. And hard. So do I. My body moves with the beat, even if my eyes stay pinned on the redhead.

When I close in on him, he doesn’t move away. One look between us is all we need. I can’t tell what color his eyes are underneath the rapid-fire flicker of the strobe lights. All I can see is that shock of red as he moves closer.

Our skin touches. Our bodies press together as we dance. His hands roaming up and down my arms. My arms around his waist. He laughs. I can’t hear it, but I can see it with my eyes. He moves with such frantic grace yet he’s not going anywhere.

He’s not lost and solo in the crowd anymore. Not when he’s with me.

I’m not sure how long we dance.

The repetitive rhythms of these songs make it so easy for them them to bleed into one another. I only know time has passed when the redhead starts to slow down.

I guide him off the dance floor before his energy level goes from flagging to floored.

Swinging by the bar, I get us both a bottled water. I hand it over to the redhead and keep eye contact as he swallows it down. No instruction needed. What a good boy. After we’re both hydrated, I pull him out of the club and into the alley.

◆◆◆

“Do you smoke?” he asks first thing while slumping against the brick wall. Maybe we won’t be exchanging names tonight. Though that’d be a damn shame. Redhead’s got a real cute voice and I’d love to know how my name would sound in it.

A little higher-pitched than one would expect from a boy, but I like that. Matches his soft features. Makes me want to hear him whine for me.

“Nope,” I chuckle, hands slipping comfortably in the back pockets of my jeans. They’re empty. “Got enough shit trying to kill me, I don’t need to go offing myself with a bad habit like that.”

“Right,” he hums and looks at my dog tags. No, he stares at them. And he licks his lips. “So, you’re between deployments?”

“For a while, yeah,” I answer.

I join him on the wall, leaning my weight against it with my arm held up above his head. I angle my body to face him, my head bowed a little to make up for the height difference between us. “What’s your name?”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “As if you don’t already know.”

I really don’t. Sure, I know who his father is, but I don’t keep tabs on his family shit. That’s way above my pay grade.

Nobody is inviting me over for barbecues or birthdays. That’s officer shit. I’m just one of the grunts.

“You shy?” I tease. “I’ll go first. My name is Joel. E-5,” I know his type likes pay grades. At my age, in my mid-thirties, it's not exactly impressive, but I’ve never been chomping at the bit to climb the chain of command.

It might be shitty, but I enjoy being in the shit.

And causing shit too.

To my surprise, he looks into my eyes instead of at my dog tags. “Julian,” he says, his tender pink mouth offering his name like a present.

I peer at his face. Julian is a skinny thing all right, but he’s still got baby fat clinging to his cheeks. “You really old enough to be here?” I ask.

His sweet mouth sours. “I’m between semesters,” Julian snaps, “at college.”

“They been teaching you how to suck dick there?”

Julian’s expression twists into a disbelieving pout. His eyes widen. His lips part and his jaw twitches. I mirror his expression. Just for fun. Though after a moment, my mouth breaks into a cheeky grin.

“You’re really rude.” Yet there’s no venom in the accusation. Julian’s sweetness is back on his mouth as he smiles at me. And as he moves. He stops leaning and gets to kneeling.

Yep, there it is. The crazy that Manuel tried to warn me about.

In the alleyway of the club, Julian opens up his mouth before my hands are even on my fly. No encouragement or cajoling need. He goes down and stays there.

Our words have dried up.

There’s only the heat of the night and the wet warmth of Julian’s mouth.

I’ve been looking at that beautiful head of ruddy hair all night and now I finally get to touch it too. It’s as soft as the rest of him. I twine my fingers around it as he fastens his lips around me.

His eyes close and I point my face toward the sky. While Julian chokes on my manhood, I try not to choke on the heat of Georgia’s summer.

The humidity is so thick you can practically swim in it. And I’m no stranger to the heat. I’m a west Texan boy, born and raised, and spent the youths of my summer south of the border visiting family.

Not to mention all the deployments I’ve spent over in the sandbox.

Yet this heat is something else.

Julian knows how to properly blow a guy. He licks the tip. Doesn’t forget about the balls. Minds his teeth. Damn this boy. He’s good. Blows me like it’s his mission to get me off as fast as possible.

I let out a pleased grunt as I surge my hips forward and pull on his hair. Julian takes that edge of roughness like a champ. He goes with it, continues to suck and fondle with unmasked enjoyment. Even with his mouth full and tongue busy, he’s letting out his own needy moans.

I lift my foot and use the edge of my boot to gently, carefully nudge his groin.

Yeah, he’s getting off on getting me off.

Wouldn’t surprise me if he jerked himself off while he was down there.

Though instead of playing with himself, his slender hands clutch at my legs while he services me. I watch him suckle.

His eyes are still shut tight. A strand of his hair is curled and plastered against his forehead from sweat.

Such a pretty sight like this.

As I get close, I give a warning tap to his shoulder, but that just makes him double up his efforts. One of his hands grabs my hip and he pulls me forward, encouraging me to thrust into his wet and willing throat.

He wants me to use him.

Fuck, he’s perfect.

I grab hold of his bird-like wrist and spin him around to put him in his place. Up against the wall with my body pressing him into it, keeping him where he belongs. I slot our mouths together.

It ain’t a kiss to start. I’m all tongue and teeth, seeking the salty aftertaste of myself off his lips. I know he hasn’t drank anything but water. No excuses and nothing to blame his shameless behavior on other than his own desire.

My tongue takes a turn dominating his mouth. I don’t stop until he’s breathless and wiggling against me, making those wrecked little moans again.

That’s when it becomes a kiss. A real kiss.

When I pull back, I finally notice his eyes. No stereotypical shamrock green. They’re a striking pale blue.

I peck his mouth one more time. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Julian’s pink mouth has turned red. It’s so puffy and swollen I can tell it hurts some to smile, but he does it anyway. “I’m going back inside,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What? To suck more cock?”

“No.” His smile turns into a laugh. “I’m going to dance some more. That’s why I come here. The…other stuff is just a bonus.”

What is with this boy? Julian has no problem dropping to his knees and blowing another man within five minutes of meeting, but he shies away from saying it out loud?

Julian clears his throat. Licks his sore lips.

Fuck, I already want him again. My softened dick gives a feeble, desperate effort to twitch back to life.

“But yeah, maybe,” Julian shrugs and looks away. “I might do some more of that later.”

No, he won’t. Not unless he’s giving me an encore. I don’t take offense to him dancing some more tonight, but I’m not letting him get on his knees for any man but me.

I lean in close to whisper into his ear. “What’re you doing after?”

Julian doesn’t understand. “After what?”

“After college,” I clarify. Pulling back, I watch his face as I lift my hand to his mouth and gently trace the shape of it with my thumb.

Julian, as obedient as ever, takes it into his mouth. Sucks on me again.

I’ve never wanted anyone before. Not like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with hook-ups and one-night stands between deployments, but I want more than that.

I want Julian. Not only for tonight, but for keeps. Maybe his crazy is infectious. Maybe I’ve just finally met the right boy for me. All I know is that I can’t let him get away. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do.

Forget about his father. Never mind the age gap.

I’m gonna make him mine. Not just for tonight, but for forever.

We’re gonna get married.