As the closing manager I only had one bartender (Jasper) to help me (Elias) close the venue after a long and busy Saturday.
The bar was finally quiet, the last echoes of Saturday night laughter and clinking glasses swallowed by the hum of the fridges. Jasper wiped down the last section of bar top while Elias tallied the till, both of them moving with the loose, tired rhythm of men who’d been on their feet for ten straight hours. Sweat had dried in salty patches on their necks and forearms; their black work shirts clung in places, sleeves rolled to the elbows.
Jasper pulled two fresh pints, the hiss of the tap the only sound for a moment. He slid one to Elias without asking. They clinked glasses—tired, wordless—and drank in long, grateful pulls.
“Christ,” Jasper said, setting the glass down with a soft thunk. “That hen party at twelve nearly drank the place dry. I lost count of how many pornstar martinis I shook.”
Elias smirked, wiping foam from his upper lip. “You were charming the knickers off them without even trying. Tips were obscene.”
“Learned from watching you,” Jasper shot back, half-grinning. “You’ve got that whole ‘quietly dangerous’ thing going. They eat it up.”
Elias laughed under his breath. “Dangerous. Right.”
They leaned against the same stretch of bar, shoulders almost touching, the kind of easy proximity that came from months of closing together. The talk drifted the way it always did after a brutal shift—women, mostly. Safe territory.
Jasper went first. “Remember that redhead last summer? The one who left lipstick on my collar and then ghosted me for three weeks?”
“Vividly,” Elias said. “You were moping like a kicked puppy.”
“Was not.” Jasper nudged him. “She was wild in bed, though. Liked being pinned down, hair pulled, the whole production. Then she’d text me at 2 a.m. like nothing happened.”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It was. Hot, but exhausting.” Jasper took another swallow. “What about you? Still seeing that yoga instructor? The bendy one?”
Elias snorted. “Nah, that ended months ago. She was flexible as hell—could do this thing with her legs over my shoulders that made my brain short-circuit—but she wanted to talk chakras and manifestation after. I’m not built for that level of sincerity.”
Jasper laughed. “You’re allergic to feelings.”
“Guilty.” Elias tilted his head, studying Jasper with that calm, steady gaze. “You still hung up on anyone?”
Jasper shrugged. “Not really. Had a couple decent runs since the ex. Nothing stuck. One girl—Jess?—she liked it rough. Biting, scratching, leaving marks. Woke up looking like I’d fought a cat and lost.”
Elias’s mouth curved. “You into that?”
“Sometimes. When the mood’s right.” Jasper paused, then added quieter, “Mostly I just like when someone knows what they want and isn’t afraid to take it.”
A beat passed. Elias finished his pint, set the glass down carefully.
“You ever think about switching it up?” he asked, voice low, casual. “Trying something… different?”
Jasper’s pulse gave a small, curious jump. “Different how?”
Elias met his eyes. “Guys.”
Jasper didn’t flinch, didn’t laugh it off. He just held the gaze. “Never have. Never really came up. Girls were always there, willing, obvious. Didn’t need to look elsewhere.” He rolled his shoulders. “You?”
Elias gave a small nod. “Uni. Second year. Flatmate was this big rugby lad—broad, cocky, always shirtless. One night we got hammered, started play-wrestling over the remote or some stupid shit. Next thing I know his hand’s in my jeans and I’m hard as fuck. Didn’t stop there. Did it a handful of times after that—messy, no strings, just blowing off steam. Then we both started dating girls again and it… faded.”
Jasper’s mouth went a little dry. He could picture it too easily: Elias younger, flushed, pinned under muscle and want. “Was it good?”
“Different,” Elias said. “Rougher in places. No pretending, no performance. Just bodies doing what bodies do.” He paused. “You’re thinking about it now.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jasper let out a short, breathy laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”
They finished their pints in silence that wasn’t awkward—just charged. Elias cracked two more without asking. The cold lager helped steady the sudden heat under Jasper’s skin.
Another round in, the conversation had looped back, looser now, edges softened by alcohol and exhaustion.
“So,” Elias said, voice quieter, “if you were curious… hypothetically…”
Jasper turned toward him, hip against the bar. “Hypothetically?”
Elias stepped closer, close enough that Jasper could smell the faint cedar of his cologne under the bar sweat. “I’d show you. No pressure. Just us.”
Jasper searched his face—open, steady, no smirk this time. Something honest in it made Jasper’s stomach flip.
He leaned in first.
The kiss started slow—lips brushing, tasting salt and malt. Then Elias’s hand found the back of Jasper’s neck, thumb pressing under his jaw, and it turned deep, hungry. Tongues slid, teeth grazed. Jasper groaned when Elias sucked on his bottom lip; Elias answered by pressing him back against the bar, hips slotting together so Jasper could feel exactly how hard he was.
They broke apart breathing hard.
“Your place,” Elias rasped. “Now.”
The walk was fast, silent except for their footsteps and the occasional brush of knuckles. Inside Jasper’s flat, the door slammed shut and clothes started hitting the floor in the hallway—shirts, belts, jeans kicked off mid-stride.
By the bedroom Jasper was naked, cock flushed and heavy. Elias still had his trousers on, unzipped, erection thick against dark fabric. He looked Jasper over slowly, like he was deciding where to start.
“Bed,” Elias said. “On your back.”
Jasper went willingly, legs falling open as Elias climbed over him. The kissing turned filthy again—deep, wet, Elias’s tongue stroking in promise. Then he moved lower: teeth on Jasper’s throat, tongue circling a nipple until it hardened, sucking until Jasper arched with a curse.
When Elias reached his cock he didn’t hesitate. A broad lick from base to tip, then he took him deep, throat relaxing around the head. Jasper’s hands flew to Elias’s hair, hips jerking.
“Fuck—Elias—”
Elias hummed, the vibration ripping another moan from him. One hand braced Jasper’s thigh wide; the other cupped his balls, rolling gently, then slid lower. A spit-slick finger circled his hole, pressing just enough to tease.
Jasper’s breath hitched. “Yeah—fuck, do that—”
Elias pulled off, lips wet and red. “Want more?”
“Please.”
Elias stripped the rest of the way—cock springing free, thick and dark, already leaking. He grabbed lube, slicked fingers, worked one inside slow while kissing Jasper senseless. Second finger, then third—crooking, stretching, rubbing that spot until Jasper was rocking down onto his hand, gasping.
“Want you,” Jasper panted. “Inside. Now.”
Elias groaned, rolled on a condom, slicked himself. He lined up, pressed slow—inch by thick inch—until he bottomed out. Jasper trembled under him, so full it bordered on too much.
“Breathe,” Elias murmured, forehead to forehead. “I’ve got you.”
He started moving—long drags at first, then harder, deeper. The slap of skin filled the room. Jasper hooked legs around Elias’s waist, heels digging in, pulling him closer. Elias wrapped a hand around Jasper’s cock, stroking in rhythm.
“Look at me,” Elias growled.
Their eyes locked. Jasper came hard—back arching, spilling over Elias’s fist with a broken cry. The clench dragged Elias over too—hips stuttering, low moan as he buried deep and came.
They collapsed, sweaty and wrecked. Elias kissed him soft, lazy, then pulled out carefully. He came back with a warm cloth, cleaned them both with gentle strokes.
Jasper caught his wrist. “Stay.”
Elias slid back into bed, arm over Jasper’s waist, face tucked against his neck.
“Not going anywhere,” he murmured.
Jasper smiled into the dark, still tasting beer and Elias, already drifting. |
