After Mr. Jason Marks glided off into the Paisley in his sleek, silver sex machine, the rest of the day stalled, leaving me drained and irritable. Cars came in and out of the garage but there were no repairs difficult enough to require my full attention, so my thoughts drifted back to Jason constantly throughout the day. Finally, Mr. Harper snapped at me that it was closing time before he stomped off to close up the office. I stripped quickly out of my garage coveralls, changing into jeans and boots, before heading down the block toward the closest train stop.

The ride home didn’t take long. Technically, I lived in the Paisley. But I’d managed to find a small one-room apartment right on the edge of the neighborhood, where it bordered the river. It was full of condos inhabited by young professionals and artists. Cafes, coffee shops, and galleries edged the Riverwalk, a winding trail that followed the contours of the river. At night, the blocks of the walk lit up, patterns and colors flowing and changing depending on where people stepped. The city frequently changed up the designs and colors depending on the season or holiday. If I went to the roof of my building, I could just see the line of color at the river’s edge. I didn’t go down and walk it myself. It was usually full of couples, nuzzling and giggling with each other. I wondered what it would be like to stroll the Riverwalk with Jason. Would we be like those giggly couples?

A robotic voice announcing my stop cut my thoughts short. The electric tram glided to a stop and I jumped off, heading up the sidewalk to my building. I dodged a woman pushing a stroller and ducked into the doorway. Finding this apartment was a stroke of luck, really. I’d just gotten the job at the garage and opened my Stelline Savings Account, SSA for short, and gotten my blue card so I could make purchases. I’d stopped for coffee at one of the many shops here and was perusing the digital ads, ready to give up. Everything in my decidedly-low price range was located well within the Paisley. I didn’t come to Stelline to live in a rundown bedsit. I could have done that in the backlands.

A cute, pink-haired barista noticed my downtrodden face and tipped me off about this building. A friend of his had just moved out of a small apartment and he got me the number for the building manager. A quick employment check and the apartment was mine. I’d been coming home alone for months now.

I swiped my thumb over the lock pad and wondered what Jason would think of my apartment. I bet he lived in some glass and steel penthouse, high above the regular citizens of Stelline, with doorbots and a pristine rooftop pool. My place was small, one room with a convertible sofa and a small kitchenette tucked into the corner. I’d made it home, though, with some paint and some soft pillows piled onto the sofa. It was something I liked to do: make my home comfortable. A refuge to come to after work, after time spent surrounded by the city and people. It was the first place I’d had that was just mine, only for me.

I hung my backpack behind the door and moved to my small kitchenette. I took a pre-made dinner from the under-counter fridge, popped it into the oven, and set the timer. I wondered what Jason liked to eat. Why did I keep thinking about him? I let out a frustrated growl as I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the sofa.

Jason. He’d been on my mind all day. He touched my hand this morning and electricity poured through his fingertips into my body, lighting up what felt like every cell and nerve. The aching wave of want that flooded over me from that one small touch was like nothing I’d ever felt and endearingly familiar at the same time. From that moment, Jason had been present, foremost in my mind no matter what I was doing. And it made me wonder about something, something I’d heard so much of growing up. Fated mates.

Everyone in the backlands believed in fated mates. Especially everyone who lived in the orphanage where I grew up. The idea of a fated mate was undeniably appealing to an orphan. We had no one, nothing but the clothes on our backs, and sometimes even those weren’t ours. And we certainly didn’t have love.

The idea that there was one person out there, one person who would open their heart, mind, and body, only for you… Well, that was powerful and heady stuff for a kid who was alone and didn’t know the love and guidance of a parent. So there was a lot of talk about fated mates, at night, after lights out. We’d whisper about it to each other, thin blankets clutched across our even thinner bodies, talking about the kind of person we’d want as our mate. Kind, good-looking, and of course, rich.

Sounded like someone I knew. And now I was right back to Jason.

I didn’t know about the kind part, but he had the rich and good-looking down. Good-looking, hell. Hot. Smoking hot. His suit was perfectly tailored to his body and everything under the expensive sheen of material looked firm and taut. And bulging. My cock stirred in my jeans. He was definitely bulging in all the right places.

My hand drifted down and slid over my stiffened cock. My eyes closed and I thought about Jason, shedding out of that expensive suit and standing in front of me naked, his pole thick and upright. My sack tightened and I felt a heat flood my ass, slicking the warm crevice. Oh God, what would it be like to have Jason kneel over me and push my knees up, exposing my pulsing pucker, to have him push into me with his throbbing cock.

I shoved my hand down the front of my jeans and grasped my cock tightly. The tip leaked slickness onto my fingers and I gave it a quick tug. Jason would move slow at first, then pick up speed, leaning over me, pressing my throbbing cock into my stomach, each thrust building up almost unbearable friction as his cock spread my ass wide, filling me, making me his. My hand worked faster on my own cock, my eyes closed, seeing Jason’s lightly-stubbled face over me, moving in to take my lips as he ground into me, as he spilled into me in jerking spurts. And then I was coming, milky fluid pouring through the fingers of my clenched fist, hips twitching against the sofa.

Holy. Shit. I didn’t think I’d ever come like that before. The thoughts of Jason were so vivid, it was like he was here, like I could feel him, his breath on my neck, his cock lodged inside me. It wasn’t like I’d never jerked off before—I was a normal guy, after all—but this was different. Knowing about Jason made it different and I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did and I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself yet.

I pushed up off the sofa and headed into the small bathroom to clean up. Just as I’d changed and pulled my dinner out of the oven, my phone beeped at me. I quickly checked the screen and almost dropped the phone when I saw a message from Jason.

What are you doing?

Nothing. Oh, that was real interesting. I might as well have told him I was clipping my toenails or folding socks.

Got plans for the weekend?

Did I? Not really. I didn’t really have many friends. I mostly kept to myself on weekends, tried to recover from the workweek, read, even baked a little.

Not really. Was that coy? Should I have been coy? And what did that really mean anyhow?

Great. Let’s hang out.

Did he mean hang out as friends? Or as a date? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t used to this kind of potential date stuff. Or was it friends stuff? Only one way to find out, I guess.

Are you asking me on a date?

Do you want me to? Wow, that was a quick response.

Only if you want to ask me out. That sounds so… passive. Did I want to seem passive? Maybe I should try for nonchalant.

Yes, I want to ask you out.

Okay, sounds good. What? How lame was I?

I’ll pick you up. Friday. 8.

Sounds good. And even lamer still. I could practically feel Jason laughing at me through the texts.

But still, I had a date. With Jason Marks. Hot, steamy, delicious Jason Marks.

Wait, how did he know where I lived?