Hot Like Me
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,898
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
3,898
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Ch. 4: "The Fag Palace"
Part IV: "The Fag Palace"
Having rid himself of the investors and the agonizingly giddy intern, Trey decided to hit the men's room at the Viper before leaving to retrieve Harley. As he approached the rear bar, he caught sight of a familiar figure hunched over it, sipping a mug of coffee and smoking a cigarette.
"Jake, what a surprise," Trey said with a healthy dose of sarcasm . "I should have known you had something to do with this. And here I thought we had come to an understanding."
Jake set his mug down on the bar top, blowing a stream of smoke politely out of Trey's way. "Trey, I know this looks bad, but I really didn't have any choice. In case you didn't notice, the boy is more than a few sails past three sheets to the wind. He was determined to come down here, even if he had to drive."
"He could have called a taxi," Trey shot back.
"Well, I did suggest that, actually," Jake smiled. "Harley said something about needing me around later when he pukes up the liter of Patrón he's had tonight - so far."
"Ah," Trey replied with a look of recognition. "He knows I don't handle throwing up very well." Trey sighed resignedly. Even now, he still hated it when Jake was right. "Okay, you did the right thing. Are you going to stay here to wait, or are you coming with me to drag him out of the Fag Palace?"
Jake chuckled, thoroughly amused. He was the only person in the known universe that was aware that the Sheffield brothers had been fucking each other's brains out for several years now. It still tickled the Brit how Trey managed to go well out of his way to appear homophobic.
"I'll go with you," Jake sighed. "You've never actually seen him in action over there. It's quite likely it'll take the both of us to extricate him."
"He's that bad?" Trey asked, but not really wanting to know the answer.
"You have no idea." Jake nodded toward the front door. Trey shook his resignedly head and led the way.
---
'Bad' wasn't even remotely the right word.
As they walked through the entrance of The Palace, Trey put his hands to his ears to protect them from the deafening, pulse-pounding thud-thud-thud of the bass-laden dance music. He vaguely recognized the Rob Thomas song, but it didn't sound anything like the version played on the radio.
Jake had already paid the cover charge for himself and Trey, and they both held out a fist to get the backs of their hands stamped. Unfamiliar with the layout of the club, Trey allowed Jake to enter first.
The place was packed wall-to-wall with men, most of them quite young, all of them gay. Jake went straight to the closest bar. There was no way he was going to allow Trey to witness this without getting the man at least a little bit liquored up first. Three shots of single-malt Scotch later, Jake figured Trey was as ready as he was ever going to be, and led him to the brass rail surrounding the sunken dance floor.
Trey looked around the crowded room and the even more crowded dance floor, squinting as the colored lights swirled, artificial fog wafted, and the occasional strobe flashed. The Scotch had landed pretty quickly, his vision blurry from the alcohol and the light show.
"I don't see him!" Trey shouted to Jake. The Englishman pointed across the room. Trey's eyes followed the other man's arm as if it were a rifle sight.
"He's right there!" Jake shouted back over the loud music. The dance mix of The Backstreet Boys' Get Another Boyfriend was practically deafening, with the bass riff so pronounced you could feel your bones rattling.
Holy shit, Trey thought, will you look at that...The Fag
~~~~
________________________________________________
© Copyright 2006 Justin Tyler. All rights reserved. Publication or distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Justin Tyler.
________________________________________________
Having rid himself of the investors and the agonizingly giddy intern, Trey decided to hit the men's room at the Viper before leaving to retrieve Harley. As he approached the rear bar, he caught sight of a familiar figure hunched over it, sipping a mug of coffee and smoking a cigarette.
"Jake, what a surprise," Trey said with a healthy dose of sarcasm . "I should have known you had something to do with this. And here I thought we had come to an understanding."
Jake set his mug down on the bar top, blowing a stream of smoke politely out of Trey's way. "Trey, I know this looks bad, but I really didn't have any choice. In case you didn't notice, the boy is more than a few sails past three sheets to the wind. He was determined to come down here, even if he had to drive."
"He could have called a taxi," Trey shot back.
"Well, I did suggest that, actually," Jake smiled. "Harley said something about needing me around later when he pukes up the liter of Patrón he's had tonight - so far."
"Ah," Trey replied with a look of recognition. "He knows I don't handle throwing up very well." Trey sighed resignedly. Even now, he still hated it when Jake was right. "Okay, you did the right thing. Are you going to stay here to wait, or are you coming with me to drag him out of the Fag Palace?"
Jake chuckled, thoroughly amused. He was the only person in the known universe that was aware that the Sheffield brothers had been fucking each other's brains out for several years now. It still tickled the Brit how Trey managed to go well out of his way to appear homophobic.
"I'll go with you," Jake sighed. "You've never actually seen him in action over there. It's quite likely it'll take the both of us to extricate him."
"He's that bad?" Trey asked, but not really wanting to know the answer.
"You have no idea." Jake nodded toward the front door. Trey shook his resignedly head and led the way.
---
'Bad' wasn't even remotely the right word.
As they walked through the entrance of The Palace, Trey put his hands to his ears to protect them from the deafening, pulse-pounding thud-thud-thud of the bass-laden dance music. He vaguely recognized the Rob Thomas song, but it didn't sound anything like the version played on the radio.
Jake had already paid the cover charge for himself and Trey, and they both held out a fist to get the backs of their hands stamped. Unfamiliar with the layout of the club, Trey allowed Jake to enter first.
The place was packed wall-to-wall with men, most of them quite young, all of them gay. Jake went straight to the closest bar. There was no way he was going to allow Trey to witness this without getting the man at least a little bit liquored up first. Three shots of single-malt Scotch later, Jake figured Trey was as ready as he was ever going to be, and led him to the brass rail surrounding the sunken dance floor.
Trey looked around the crowded room and the even more crowded dance floor, squinting as the colored lights swirled, artificial fog wafted, and the occasional strobe flashed. The Scotch had landed pretty quickly, his vision blurry from the alcohol and the light show.
"I don't see him!" Trey shouted to Jake. The Englishman pointed across the room. Trey's eyes followed the other man's arm as if it were a rifle sight.
"He's right there!" Jake shouted back over the loud music. The dance mix of The Backstreet Boys' Get Another Boyfriend was practically deafening, with the bass riff so pronounced you could feel your bones rattling.
Holy shit, Trey thought, will you look at that...The Fag
~~~~
________________________________________________
© Copyright 2006 Justin Tyler. All rights reserved. Publication or distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Justin Tyler.
________________________________________________