Shane had spent a stupid lot of time picking his outfit for Big Dick’s, so he didn’t make it to the city until close to midnight. He wanted something that showed off his body, but he hadn’t wanted to look so slutty that he’d be fighting off advances for the hour or so he’d planned to allot to this outing. He’d finally settled on skin-tight red jeans and a black T-shirt that rode up just above the waist. Abs baring always worked on job interviews, right?

Big Dick’s was next to impossible to find in Harrisburg if one didn’t know where to look. Middle of the city, down a side street with no sign. Only an industrial door beneath an alcove, where a big burly guy named Bear checked ID before allowing you inside the thrumming beat of the club hiding with the innocuous brick building.

Bear’s nickname was not unfounded and maybe a little cliché, but the guy was broad, wide and muscular, with a scruffy beard and worn leather vest that looked like it would fall apart if he moved too fast. He took Shane’s ID and shined his flashlight on it.

“I’m Colby,” Shane said, feeling like an idiot since the guy had just seen his real name. “I’m supposed to be meeting Tony?”

“Oh yeah, you the dancer?” Bear slid a cell phone out of his pants pocket and punched out a text.

“Yes. Jody McShane, but everyone calls me Shane.”

“Unless they call you Colby?”

“It’s a stage name.”

“Sure. Go on in. He’ll meet you at the bar, ’kay?”

“Thank you.”

Shane walked into the thumpa-thump of dance music that was a hallmark of places like this. Places without tables or chairs, that were meant for one thing only: dancing. Most of the dancing there was sex with clothes on, with the intent of finding someone to later have sex without clothes on. Strands of red and blue Christmas lights decorated the ceiling, the only real lighting in the place except for the bar. Small, U-shaped, it was serviceable without taking too much space.

He eyeballed the writhing sea of bodies, appreciating the sweaty man candy on display. He went fishing here a few times years and always left with a good catch. He had never made use of the place’s second bathroom—the one rumored to be the spot you went to fuck the guy you were with, complete with a complimentary bowl of condoms and lube sachets.

One day you’ll man up and see if it’s true.

Or not. Going in expressed intent, and he didn’t want to fuck anyone except Noel.

Unless it’s for money. For a little while longer.

Tony was already at the bar, slouched on a stool with an amber drink in his hand. The older man behind the bar was short, thin, with styled gray hair and hints of colorful tattoos creeping out from beneath his sequined white shirt. He screamed “queer” in a way that said “fuck you if you don’t like it”.

“Hey, man, you made it.” Tony shook his hand.

There was no empty stool near him, so Shane inserted himself against the bar. “Yeah, I did.”

“This is my dad Richard.”

He pointed to the bartender, who also shook Shane's hand. “Gabe’s told me you’re thinking of dancing for us?” Richard said. He had a deeper voice that Shane expected.

Gabe.

Tony didn’t even blink at the drop of his real name.

“I definitely wanted to hear more and see more,” Shane said.

“You take a look around, then let me know. I’ll give you an audition.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you drinking?”

“You got Samuel Adams?”

“Bottled.”

“Works for me.”

“Put it on my tab,” Tony/Gabe said.

Beer in hand, Shane followed Tony/Gabe out into the sea of bodies. Once they got deeper into the crowd, closer to the DJ booth in the corner, Shane noticed more details about the theme. They’d gone superhero. Strobes flashed different, familiar symbols onto the ceiling: the bat signal, Superman’s S, something he was pretty sure had to do with that Ryan Reynolds movie where he found a green ring. To the left and right of the DJ, two narrow elevated stages ran the length of the wall, and five guys danced atop them, their feet about head-level.

Each guy was dressed up like a slutty superhero. One dark-haired twink wore black briefs, black thigh-high boots and a little black mask over his eyes. Someone had painted a Batman symbol on his chest in neon yellow. He writhed around in simulations of sex that got Shane’s dick perking up. Next to Batman, a pair of nearly naked heroes—Shane had no idea who, since his repertoire was pretty limited—were grinding on each other, and the scene was getting some catcalls from the dancing audience.

“Touching each other isn’t required of the dancers,” Tony/Gabe said, practically shouting to be heard over the music. He slid in closer to Shane, his stacked body already shifting with the beat. “But it gets you better tips.”

As though they’d timed it, a guy in the crowd held a bill in the air, and the purple-briefed hero squatted down so the money could be tucked into his underwear.

Shane let his hips sway, not wanting to get too caught up but music always set fire to his blood in a way that few things did. He hadn’t gone out like this in months. Allowed himself to get lost in the music and movement and in other bodies. He sipped his beer, barely tasting it for the desire pulsing through him. Not sexual desire. Not like he felt when Noel did something as simple as smile and flash his dimples.

Raw desire to move his body, to feel his muscles burn as he became an instrument to the music. To take it all inside him, fill him and let it back out in the best expression of joy he knew.

A hand brushed his ass, reminding Shane of the close quarters, and that everyone around him was moving faster than he was. He stopped fighting the music. He became part of the ocean of bodies, part of the beat and the bass and the thumpa-thumpa in his chest. Arms draped across his shoulders, and he didn’t mind so much because they belonged to Tony/Gabe, and they’d already fucked twice so no biggie. The familiarity allowed him to close his eyes and pretend he was dancing with Noel.

Music. Bodies. Sweat. Sound. Thump. Sway. Drink.

Another drink.

Heat.

He fell into it headfirst as his stress melted into animation, and it carried him away.

* * *

“Okay, partner, you’ve got to stop smiling,” Benedict said on their way back to the car after their break at Dixie’s. “You’re creeping me out.”

Noel tried forcing a frown for his partner’s benefit. By the time he reached his car door, he’d failed miserably. Too much residual happiness from his evening with Shane kept rising to the surface and into his face, and he didn’t really care. He had something good in his life for once, and he wasn’t going to hide it.

Benedict hit unlock on the key fob. “Seriously, did you finally get laid or something?”

“Yes.” Noel couldn’t stop a small bubble of laughter as he climbed into the passenger seat.

The car creaked when Benedict got in his side. “First time?”

“Fuck off, Wade.”

“No, for real, kid, you in love or something?”

“Or something.” Noel wasn’t in love with Shane. Not yet, but he had crazy strong feelings and he could see those becoming love. A real, honest, fierce kind of love.

Benedict jammed the key into the ignition, then slapped the steering wheel, smiling himself this time. “Hot damn, junior, what’s her name?”

“Shane.”

“Shane? Never heard of a girl named Shane before. She live in town?”

Noel swallowed, his stomach unhappy with the chicken salad he’d eaten five minutes ago. Nerves settled in, making his fingers tremble. “Shane’s not a girl, he’s a guy, and yes, he lives in town.”

Benedict stared at him, his face void of reaction. “What?”

“Which part do you need clarified?” He didn’t want to get defensive, but he had no real experience with coming out to coworkers, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t been unclear.

“You’re ‘or something’ with a guy named Shane?”

“Yes.” In for a penny. “Wade, I’m gay.”

“Since when?”

“Since always. I’m only out to a few people, and now to you. I’m tired of hiding who I am, and I wasn’t going to lie about Shane. He’s too important to me.”

Benedict’s face pinched up like he’d sucked on a sour candy. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We’re partners, for Christ’s sake.”

“Would it have made a difference? Who I sleep with doesn’t affect my job, and it shouldn’t affect how we work together.” Benedict was still looking at him like he smelled funny, so Noel tried to lighten the mood in the car. “If it helps at all, you’re nowhere near my type.”

“Hardy-har-har. Have you tried it with girls?”

Noel rolled his eyes. “How many blocks would you like to check off on your Coming Out Questions BINGO card? Don’t forget to ask me if I’ve tried not being gay.”

He couldn’t be completely certain in the dim light, but Noel was pretty sure that Benedict blushed.

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just…” Benedict scratched his stubbly chin. “If you’d asked me to pick one guy on the force I’d peg as queer, it wouldn’t have been you.”

“Why not? And if you say it’s because I don’t look queer, I’ll punch you in the face, I swear to God.”

Benedict pressed his lips shut.

“You wouldn’t have pegged Samuel Briggs for gay, either, right?” Noel asked.

“Okay, okay, point made.”

“Good. Then I have one question.”

“Okay.”

“Is this going to be a problem for you?”

Benedict shrugged with little hesitation. “Can’t say it bothers me too much. I got a cousin who’s gay, but she’s a she, and her girlfriend is kind of hot.”

Noel couldn’t help himself. “My boyfriend is ten kinds of hot.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about that stuff, do we?”

“We don’t talk about it now, unless you’re complaining about your ex-wife.”

“Then we’re good.”

“Good.” Noel’s insides were still a little squirrely, but the whole thing had gone better than he’d expected.

“So can we get back to patrol now? Or you gonna tell me you’re pregnant too?”

Noel flipped him off. Benedict chuckled, then started the car.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

Phone.

Ringing phone.

Shane flailed for the offensive object, needing it to shut the fuck up before he smashed it. His head hurt, his whole body was kind of tight and sore, and he couldn’t find his phone. His hand hit something soft and warm. Body.

Did I sleep at Noel’s place?

Did I get hammered at his place?

He was hung over, for sure, and he had— Gabe. Big Dick’s.

What the fuck did I do last night?

The phone stopped ringing. He pried apart sticky eyelids, immediately grateful for pulled curtains and dim light. Definitely not Noel’s room. Old-fashioned cheap paneling, faint smell of tobacco.

A lump beside him muttered and twisted beneath the sheets.

Shane went ice cold inside. He scrambled away from the lump and promptly fell onto the floor with a pained thud.

“Fuck.” He rolled onto his back, his elbow smarting, head throbbing. Now keenly aware that he’d been stripped down to his briefs.

“You okay?” Gabe loomed over him, his face sleep-creased and hair flattened on one side. He had a T-shirt on, which gave Shane hope.

“Did we have sex last night?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“Oh thank fuck.” Shane dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to get his muddled brain to wake up. “What am I doing here?”

Gabe snickered. “I should have stopped you after that fourth shot of Jaeger.”

“No wonder my head wants to pop like a zit.”

“Yeah, you’ll be feeling it for the rest of the day, I bet. You got a little wild last night, then you got totally wasted. I brought you back here because you could barely walk, let alone drive.”

“And we really didn’t have sex?”

Gabe swung his legs over the side of the bed and glared down. “I’m not into fucking guys with boyfriends, asshole.”

Shane grunted. “You fucked me on Sunday.”

“That’s porn. That’s different. Plus you were sober then, and I’m actually pretty into informed consent.” He stood up and stalked toward the bedroom door. “You’re welcome by the way. Now get dressed. I’ll drive you back to your car.”

A little stunned by Gabe’s anger, Shane rolled up onto is knees, then lurched to his feet. His clothes were neatly folded on top of a dresser. As he poured himself into those too-tight jeans, his bladder reminded him of everything he’d had to drink last night. Well, everything he could remember.

Gabe returned. “Bathroom’s one door down.”

“Thanks.”

Shane was definitely in a house somewhere, second floor if the stairs to his left were any indication. More cheap paneling on the walls. The bathroom was a terrifying shade of green, right down to the bathtub tiles, but he was grateful to shut the door and piss out his binge. He did a quick visual check for bruises or marks—not because he thought Gabe was lying, but because he need to be fucking sure for Noel’s sake. He even forced himself to look in the mirror so he could inspect his neck.

Nothing.

You are so fucking lucky. You could have just lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

He and Noel hadn’t promised each other exclusivity, but sleeping with Gabe would have been cheating, and he couldn’t have kept that from Noel. As it was, he’d have to tell him what he’d done. That he’d lost control because of all of the stress he’d been buried under, and he was taken home by a near stranger. He’d be very, very lucky if Noel believed that he and Gabe hadn’t fucked.

Shane washed his face. He’d take a shower when he got home. He did help himself to two ibuprofen. They’d make his stomach hurt taking them empty, but his head weighed ten times itself and he wanted to chop it off so it would stop. His phone was in his jeans pocket. A missed call from Jason, and a bunch of texts.

Where r u? U didn’t come home last night.

Hello?

Call me.

Shit, he was a total asshole for making Jason worry. He texted back that he was fine, on his way home, followed by an all-caps SORRY.

Gabe didn’t say anything on the walk downstairs, into a living room cluttered with empty takeout containers, wine bottles, and random piles of newspapers and magazines. The faint odor of booze gave the place a frat house vibe, minus the gym socks. Shane didn’t comment or ask. He followed Gabe outside to a street crowded with fading row homes clustered together, front stoops that opened right onto the sidewalk. Poor side of the city.

Why does Gabe live here when his dads own a successful club?

“I’m sorry,” Shane said five minutes later when Gabe double-parked behind his car.

“For what? Thinking I’d fuck a guy too drunk to stand, and then lie about it?”

Ouch.

“Yes, that. I don’t remember leaving the club, or anything that happened after, and I panicked. I don’t want to fuck up what I have with my boyfriend.”

Gabe turned his head partway, giving him a three-quarter profile. His eyes were burning with something. Something angry. “I’m not that guy, Colby.”

“I know that. I do. And I really am sorry. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kind of half-smiled. “It’s what I do. See you around.”

“Yeah.”

Shane watched Gabe drive away, intensely curious about a guy he’d barely given thirty seconds of thought to forty-eight hours ago. His phone buzzed with a text.

Jason: What the hell, dude?

He ignored it, certain he’d get interrogated the moment he saw Jason again. Kind of glad it wouldn’t be until that night, because it was eight thirty, and Jason had to be to the Feed at nine. The drive home still left his insides cold and twisted up. He’d been lucky last night, and he knew it. He owed Gabe for being a decent guy.

Jason’s truck was still in the driveway. Shane panicked and slammed on his brakes. What if Jason had a heart attack? He bolted inside, not at all relieved to see Jason sitting on the couch, watching the door. His panic was too immediate, making his heart race and his hands shake.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I called and said I’d be late,” Jason said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Where were you last night?”

Shane collapsed into the side chair, exhausted and still sporting a full-on headache that was getting worse thanks to his adrenaline spike. “I told you about that dancing job at Big Dick’s.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say you planned on staying out all night. Who were you with, because I know for a fact that Noel was working.”

“Did you call him?” The idea of Jason doing that sent him into full-on panic mode again.

“No, I didn’t call him.” He narrowed his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Jo, you didn’t fuck someone else, did you?”

“No. Fuck no.” Shane scrubbed at his face with both hands. “Look, I got drunk and I didn’t mean to, but I guess the music and everything…I’ve been so stressed out, and it’s not an excuse, but I tied one on, and the guy I met about the job? He kept an eye on me, because he’s a good guy, and he took me back to his place to crash so I didn’t end up in a worse situation.”

“And you trust this guy?”

“Yeah. Nothing happened.”

“Good. Because Noel seems like a nice guy, and if you fuck it up, I’ll kill you.”

Shane managed a bark of bitter laughter. “Trust me, if I fuck it up, I’ll let you.”

“So you gonna take the job?”

“If it’s offered, yeah. I need to call the owners tonight and verify. I’m pretty sure I passed my audition, if my burning thighs are any indication.”

“Serves you right.”

“Fuck off.”

Jason chuckled. Stood up. “Take a shower. You look like shit.”

“Good, because I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, well, you earned it, little brother.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Sounds like you had some stress to burn.”

“Yeah.”

“Next time burn it with your boyfriend.”

Shane gave him a thumbs up.

After Jason left for work, Shane lumbered into the bathroom for a shower. He had to work in a few hours himself, and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

Fuck my life.