Page 4 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

The bathroom was empty, thank god; he just needed a second of privacy and relief.

And then he’d resign himself to this annoying reunion.

Only then.

Half-way through unzipping his jeans, the door opened.

This—any other fucking time—wouldn’t have been an issue.

Until an expensive pair of running shoes sidled up right next to him.

Right next to him.

“Every other spot is open, man,” Theo muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on the dingy tile in front of him. “Seriously. One space over. It’s not hard. ”

Basic bathroom etiquette was apparently too much to ask.

It wasn’t a big deal—he knew that—but still.

Theo was pissed at the situation .

He closed his eyes, focusing on the spine-tingling feeling of being able to relieve himself after what felt like an eternity.

World-changing.

Life-altering , actually.

The kind of relief that reset his blood pressure and unknotted his shoulders.

And then—gone.

Ripped from him like a goddamn fire alarm.

A body pressed up against his from behind. A furnace of heat against his back.

His entire system locked up.

Gone was the peaceful moment.

This was too much like the first-floor high school bathroom.

Too close to that memory.

Terrifying.

Exhilarating.

Before he could turn, before he could even see who the fuck— his cheek slammed into the cold, grimy, tile wall.

A heavy hand braced against the back of his head, fingers digging in just enough to let him know this wasn’t a mistake.

“Are you interested?”

The voice was deep. Gravel dragged across asphalt. It scraped over his spine and left goosebumps in its wake.

He didn’t recognize it. Didn’t need to.

His body answered before his brain could catch up.

“Yes or no, baby,” the guy whispered .

Warm breath on the back of his neck made his knees bend. The hand slid down from Theo’s skull—slow and goose-bump worthy—to grip his throat.

And suddenly well—screw the basic opening line.

Hot was hot .

The pressure was perfect. Not choking, but possessive . A reminder of who was in charge here, and who had accidentally showed up at the right time. Theo swallowed hard, pulse hammering so loud it was all he could hear.

Fuck.

He hadn’t even said a word, and this guy already had him half hard, pinned and throbbing like it was his first time.

“Yeah,” Theo murmured, barely audible. “You got a condom?”

The stranger chuckled. “I do, but I want to hear you beg for it.”

When Theo didn’t respond fast enough—because his brain had turned to soup—the hand on his throat tightened, just slightly. Enough to make him gasp and see a flash of stars.

Excited.

Pathetic.

God, his dick was already aching.

No warm-up. No awkward introductions or faux flirtation.

Just this . Raw and immediate.

“Make me,” Theo whispered.

The thrill crackled down his spine like lightning. Not fear—adrenaline. Pure and bitter. The kind that always got him into trouble. The kind that made him say yes when he should scream no.

Best thing to happen all week?

Hell yes.

“I like ‘em spicy,” the stranger murmured, and the distinct noise of a foil packet opening sounded a whole lot louder in the quiet bathroom.

Inside the packed bar.

With a rough, calloused hand still wrapped around his throat, Theo couldn’t resist the urge to grind his ass back when he felt the hard cock pressing against his jeans.

His jeans .

Shit.

Arms shaking, Theo clawed at the button, barely remembering how clothes worked before yanking the denim down.

“Are you always such a slut?”

Those words sent Theo’s head reeling.

“Fuck you,” was all he could manage.

That earned him another squeeze around the throat.

Holy fuck.

He was so hard he could feel the damp smear of precum against his boxers. His cock pulsing in sync with his racing heart, humiliating and impossible to ignore.

If this dude didn’t get inside him in the next four seconds, he was going to scream.

And come from nothing like some sad virgin.

When a hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, rough fingers ghosting over his ass, pressing— nope. Hard stop.

“I want it to hurt,” he said, voice low, nearly lost under the roar in his ears. He reached behind him, spread his cheeks .

Damn did that sharp little inhale from the guy have his cock leaking buckets.

The stranger grunted, lined himself up—slick and heavy—and as he pushed in, slow and merciless, his mouth found Theo’s ear again.

The burn was white-hot. Pain that shimmered better than pleasure. Theo gasped, mouth open against the cold tile.

He needed this.

Needed more of this.

Bracing against the urinal, the wall burning against his flushed face, he moaned as the man filled him— stretched him. Too much, too deep, too good.

When the guy pulled out and slammed back in—oh, fuck—

“Fuck yourself back on my cock, you trashy cunt,” the stranger growled.

Each word slithered through Theo’s ears like poison laced with desire.

“Show me how much you really want this.”

Theo couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think . His hips moved instinctively, grinding back, moaning with each punishing thrust.

The entire world narrowed to this. To friction and pain that morphed into something else. Something that stopped the noise inside his head. Something earned.

The guy’s teeth scraped Theo’s shoulder. He whimpered. Couldn’t stop.

His hands clamped to the urinal. White-knuckled. Praying no one walked in. Please. Not here. Not now.

He couldn’t be seen like this.

Not in Eunice.

Not while Ethan was probably chatting up strangers, talking about his picture-perfect family. Talking about his wife .

“Keep squeezing my cock like that,” the stranger panted, warm breath fanning Theo’s neck, “and I’m gonna blow.”

Theo chased it. Every thrust. Every brutal grind against his prostate sent him hurtling closer to the edge. The sting blurred into heat. The pain folded into need.

“You want to come on this dick, don’t you?” he hissed. “Like the little cum slut I know you are.”

Theo’s mind shattered at the edges. All he could do was moan, writhe. Filthy words—yes. Please. Anything.

The hand at his throat left, and the stranger’s fingers gripped under his hips, hauling him up, forcing him onto his tiptoes. Changing the angle. Driving in deeper .

Every drag against his prostate sent electric shocks through Theo’s thighs. Through his soul .

“ Fuck, don’t stop, ” Theo begged, voice cracking. He didn’t care. Didn’t have it in him to be cool anymore. He was drenched in sweat, clawing at the urinal.

“You like this?” The stranger’s voice was darker now. Filthy. “Getting used in public? Getting wrecked where anyone could walk in?”

Theo nodded, helpless.

A hand slammed across his chest, yanking him upright. Flesh slapped against flesh, their sweat-slick bodies sticking in the heat. The stranger’s chest against his back. His cock like a brand inside him.

“Milk this dick with that hungry little hole,” the guy snarled .

That sentence?

Burned into Theo’s brain forever.

He was going to remember it on bad days. Use it on worse ones.

When that thick cock began to throb inside him—pulsing, desperate—Theo almost wished there wasn’t a condom. Walking around that ridiculous reunion with someone’s cum inside him—

Too hot.

As the stranger came, nails dug into Theo’s hips, breaking skin. He welcomed the sting. Welcomed the warm slide of blood down his thighs.

And when Theo came—he came hard . His whole body arched, legs buckling as he exploded, cum streaking across the urinal like spilled paint in a Jackson Pollock nightmare.

The stranger’s breathing slowed. Deep. Steady. He pulled out slowly, leaving Theo molded onto that disgusting-ass urinal, spent and flushed.

Bracing one trembling hand against the wall, Theo wiped the sticky mess onto his jeans—because why the fuck not. It wasn’t going on his black hoodie, that was for damn sure. He already smelled like sex, didn’t need to look like it too.

“Have a good life, baby,” the guy muttered.

Cool.

Theo had no intention of going anywhere.

He just wanted to stay here. Just for a few more seconds. Let it wash over him. Let the afterglow burn out.

At least the dude never asked him to turn around.

The anonymity?

Made it better.

And easier to deal with later—when the high wore off, and the regret came crawling back.

Like it always did.