Joey’s back slammed into his flimsy apartment door, making it rattle. He laughed into the mouth he was currently kissing. “Someone’s keen,” he mumbled playfully.

His date bit his lower lip and hummed. “Hell yeah. You gonna let us in or are we doing this out here?”

Considering the dingy hallway they were in, Joey thought that might be unwise. “Keys,” he uttered around the tongue being shoved into his mouth. He fumbled in his pocket and tried to fish the door key out.

His date wasn’t really a date, more of a hookup. Dave or Dean or Derek? Something like that. He was big and buff and wore a leather jacket. He ticked all of Joey’s bad boy boxes, and after one drink and awkward small talk, he was far more interested in getting naked than finding out anything boring like where the guy was from.

Dean. He was pretty sure that was it. Dean bit at his neck and groped his crotch as Joey turned around, jammed his key into the lock and opened the door.

They tumbled into his tiny apartment. Joey didn’t bother flicking the light switches on. There was enough illumination coming from the multi-colored neon lights on the street outside to fumble their way along.

He’d at least intended to reach the bedroom, but Dean had other plans. He pushed Joey against the wall, crowding him with his whole body as he unzipped his fly and grabbed at Joey’s cock.

He cried out. It was a little bit rough, but Joey didn’t mind that so much. He liked big guys, and big guys generally liked being in charge. He focused on slipping his own fingers through the guy’s jeans and briefs, finding his thick cock to squeeze.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Dean growled.

He spun them around so his back was leaning against the wall and kissed Joey again. Claiming his mouth, devouring his tongue. He yanked at Joey’s cock, making him wince, then whipped his own dick out, stroking it provocatively.

“Like what you see?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Joey said. It was big and red and probably just what he needed inside him to forget about his shitty day.

Dean pushed on his shoulder though. “Urgh, blow me, pretty boy,” he begged. Joey wasn’t entirely sure he knew his name.

That didn’t matter. It was way weirder when guys wanted to fuck him because he was famous…used to be famous. People were already forgetting there was ever a band called Below Zero.

He angrily chased that thought away and allowed himself to be shoved to his knees. At least this way he could jack himself off the way he liked.

It never felt okay to ask guys to be gentler. Like, sex was supposed to be aggressive and fun and hot. But they did like to just grab and pull and slam most of the time. Even now, Dean seized his hair and guided Joey’s mouth towards his cock. It was fine, he wanted to suck it. So rather than wish for, what? A cuddle? He got right too it.

It was warm and salty and slid easily down his throat. “Yeah, gorgeous, take it,” Dean rasped, fucking into his mouth. “Oh Christ, gonna come down your pretty throat. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

Joey would. Rather than answer, he carried on bobbing his head. He used one hand to squeeze his fingers around the base, the other to tease his own prick just the way he liked, stroking the end with his fingertips.

Dean grunted and thrust faster, chasing his release. “Gonna come,” he whined. “Are you ready? Want to watch you swallow me.”

Joey nodded, looking up at him through his lashes, jerking himself off harder.

“Jesus, you’re so pretty,” said Dean, caressing his face. “Look at you, you little slut, you love it.”

Joey moaned, feeling his orgasm building. All it took were a few more thrusts, and Dean was shooting down his gullet. Joey only flinched briefly before sucking it down, drinking every last drop as he came too, over his shirt and the wall.

Dean panted and slumped backwards, letting his cock soften between Joey’s lips while he caught his breath. Joey wiped his mouth and struggled to his feet, tucking himself back in as he did.

“That was hot,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

Dean smiled and kissed him back. “It sure was.”

He pulled away to rearrange his junk and zipped up his fly. “Um,” said Joey. “Do you want a beer?”

Dean smirked and touched his thumb to Joey’s lip. “Thanks for a fun time, honey.” He checked his hair in the mirror then winked at him. “Catch you around.”

He sauntered to the door, letting himself out. He threw Joey a kiss over his shoulder, then he was gone.

Joey stood dumbly in his hall for a moment then crossed the carpet to secure the lock, chain and bolt.

That was fine, he’d only been looking for a bit of sex. And anyway, he only had a couple of beers left. It would have been a shame to waste one on a stranger.

He sighed and turned on the lights. The apartment was merely a single room with both bed and kitchenette in the same square space. A bathroom big enough for just a shower and a toilet was the only other room.

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door. After kicking off his boots, he stripped off his spunk-covered shirt then headed to the fridge. He plucked one of the beer bottles out and a carton of milk, then grabbed the last of his cereal, a bowl and a spoon.

His body was still pleasantly thrumming from the orgasm as he nestled into his pillows and filled the bowl with off-brand Cinnamon Toast Crunch. As he poured some milk with one hand he pulled out his phone with the other. 11:53.

He sighed again, heavier this time, and looked around at his sparse apartment. He’d sold most everything of value, keeping hold of only sentimental things. A few photos were the predominate decoration on the walls. They were all old now though and looking at them made him feel sad rather than happy.

He shook his head and picked his phone back up. With a loud dance remix playing, he began munching on his cereal, trying to think about nothing but the melodies punching through the air around him. He tapped his foot to the beat and hummed along.

Sometimes life took you unexpected places. Sometimes life dragged you kicking and screaming where you didn’t want to go. Six months ago, he would never have thought he’d be all alone on a Saturday night, no job, no prospects, eating cereal for the fifth meal in a row.

Things could be worse, he knew. He just wasn’t sure how.

The song tapered out and he watched the clock on the phone tick down to midnight. As the numbers blinked over, the lights went out, plunging him back into the neon-bathed gloom.

Joey felt his throat constrict, but he refused to cry. He had no money left for bills, his rent was overdue, and he’d sold everything he could.

With a heavy heart, he ate the last bite of cereal and placed the bowl on the side. There was just one little stash of money he had left, the money that he’d held onto for the last five years, just in case. He’d always hoped he would never have to use it, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t fight it anymore.

He stood and rested his head on the glass window, looking out at the little sliver of L.A. he could see. The milk and grain churned unpleasantly in his stomach, but there was nothing for it. That money had only ever been intended for one thing, and he was now desperate enough to use it.

It was time to buy a ticket home.