Stepping Out in Faith - 1. Chapter 1

“Happy Friday!”

Marcus Clayton clinked his glass, threw back the shot of tequila and savored the burn trailing down his esophagus to warm his belly.

“We’re going dancing!” Stephen shouted in Marcus’ ear and dragged his boyfriend of the week out onto one of the two dance floors at The Ritz gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

Marcus let his best friend disappear into the crowd and settled back against the bar. He didn’t mind being left alone; in fact, these days he preferred it.

There had been a time when Friday nights were all about picking up the next hot piece of ass—Friday night drinking, dancing, and debauchery was how Stephen described it. Recently, though, Marcus was beginning to find Friday nights a chore.

With his gin-and-tonic chaser in hand, Marcus surveyed the sea of glistening, half-naked bodies before him, all moving as one to the thump, thumping of the music. It was so loud, it was almost quiet; the voices around him blended into the booming bass until everything faded into the background.

Marcus took a deep breath: sweaty men, drenched in musk and pheromones. It used to smell good; now it just smelled like a dirty gym bag.

How much longer would he have to put up with this shit before he could claim to be too old for partying?

Marcus raised his glass to take a sip when someone bumped into him and caused him to slosh his drink all over his hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Marcus scowled and turned to tell the asshole to watch where the hell he was going. Instead, the words caught in his throat when he saw the big, startled eyes, wide with anxiety that bordered on fear. Marcus’ gaze dropped to full rosy lips, swollen from being chewed on for too long. Then the Adam’s apple bobbed, and Marcus got distracted by the thick, strong neck; he always had a thing for sexy necks, and this stranger had a fucking sexy neck.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” the sexy stranger asked.

“I’m fine. Just watch where you’re going.”

The stranger nodded and mumbled another “sorry” under his breath.

Marcus gave the guy a quick onceover; he didn’t look like your average gay-bar fare. His thick brown hair was a mess on top of his head; not the artsy messy that took hours to perfect—no, it was a literal mess. He wore a wide-cut, striped button down tucked into loose khakis and worn, beat-up sneakers; he looked like he had just been transported from the 1990s. And from the deer-caught-in-headlights stare, Marcus guessed he probably felt just as out of place as he looked.

“What can I get for you?” Dave, the bartender, asked.

Doe Eyes—Marcus decided that was an appropriate nickname—stared dumbfounded at the bartender as if he spoke another language.

Marcus shifted his gaze from Doe Eyes to Dave and back again; the silence dragged on.

“Um, can I get some water?”

“What?” Dave asked. He tilted his head and leaned across the bar.

“Um…” Doe Eyes hesitated and stole a glance at Marcus.

“Can I get some water?” Doe Eyes shouted at the bartender.

Dave frowned. “Water? And?”

Doe Eyes turned to Marcus, eyes wild and panicked.

Marcus grimaced; he didn’t really want to get involved, but this was a little too painful to watch.

“How about a shot of tequila, then a gin and tonic?” Marcus suggested his standard order. Dave shared a puzzled look with him before turning away to pour the drinks.

“I don’t drink tequila,” said Doe Eyes.

Marcus shrugged. “Up to you, but it’s probably a good idea. You’ve got newbie written all over you.”

Doe Eyes looked down as if there was a sign on his chest he had forgotten to remove. Marcus swallowed a laugh. Was this guy for real?

Dave returned with the drinks, but Doe Eyes just stared at them suspiciously as they sat on the bar.

“They’re not going to drink themselves, you know,” Marcus said.

Doe Eyes nodded but didn’t move to pick them up.

“Take the shot first to give yourself a jump start.” Marcus pointed to the smaller glass.

With a wary look, Doe Eyes picked up the shot glass and gave it a sniff.

“That’s gross,” he said. He held the offending glass away at arm’s length.

“Just do it,” Marcus said. “Don’t think about it so much.”

Doe Eyes didn’t look convinced but didn’t argue again. He squeezed his eyes shut and tossed back the clear liquid.

As his head tilted, the collar of his shirt strained against the angle of his neck and drew Marcus’ attention to its thickness. Mm, that’s nice.

Doe Eyes came up sputtering, eyes watering. Marcus stepped closer to pat him on the back as he bent over and choked down the alcohol. Doe Eyes wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kept it there as he blinked away tears.

Marcus almost felt sorry for the guy. “Don’t drink much, do you?”

Doe Eyes shook his head, straightened, and cleared his throat. His lips were red and swollen—definitely kissable.

“So, what’s your name?” asked Marcus. He tried not to notice the little things, like the sexy curve of his neck or the plumpness of his lips. The guy hesitated.

“I’m Fath… um… I mean, I’m… Andy.”

Okay, that’s weird. But whatever; sometimes people gave fake names, no big deal.

“I’m Marcus.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you.”

Andy stared at Marcus’ outstretched hand a moment longer than was polite. There was something strange about this guy, and Marcus almost dropped his hand. If he didn’t want to shake, then they didn’t need to shake.

But then Andy’s fingers closed around his own, and Marcus felt a bolt of electricity zing up his arm and straight to his cock. Marcus jerked his hand back and stole a glance at his palm to check for burn marks.

It was ridiculous, he knew, but the jolt had felt so real; the throbbing in his cock was definitely real. Marcus rubbed his palm with his thumb and frowned at Doe Eyes. The other man was no help; he looked just as shocked and confused as Marcus felt.

Still rubbing his palm, Marcus turned away. He was no stranger to lust at first sight, but he had never quite experienced electric shock at first touch. And the throbbing wasn’t going away, which made the whole thing that much creepier. He crossed his arms and stared resolutely at the crowd of dancing men, trying to ignore the heat he felt radiating off the man next to him.

“Um, do you dance?”

Marcus turned at Andy’s question; Andy was also staring out into the crowd, eyes wide, teeth chewing on that lip. Despite the darkness of the bar, Marcus detected a tinge of red bloom across Andy’s cheeks. The man reeked of innocence and naiveté; Marcus had a strong urge to usher him out of the bar and tell him to go home because this was no place for someone like him.

Marcus studied his profile. With his boy-next-door look and a hint of desperation in his eyes, Marcus’ protective streak came roaring to the surface. Great. Perfect. “No, I don’t.” the words came out harsher than he expected.

“Oh.” Doe Eyes shot him a quick look and went back to staring intently at the dance floor.

“But you should go.”

Doe Eyes’ lips tilted up at the corners, but he didn’t move from his spot.

Marcus sighed and downed what remained of his gin and tonic. He hated when his protective streak reared its head. He suddenly felt responsible for this stranger, as if he alone were answerable for the stranger’s safety and happiness. It didn’t matter that he had only just met the guy, because his overbearing sense of duty had already labeled Andy as Marcus’ to protect.

He typically liked to keep things no-strings-attached. That was generally understood by the type of people who frequented such establishments. So, it was a rare thing for his protective streak to make an appearance, but once it did, it would not be easily placated.

Marcus sighed. “It’s your first time here, right?”

Andy gave him a sheepish smile. It would have looked coy on anyone else, but on Doe Eyes it leaned more toward endearing. A grin tugged at Marcus’ mouth, and his protective streak bristled in delight.

“Is it that obvious?” Doe Eyes hesitantly met Marcus’ gaze, and there it was again, a zing of electricity, this time hitting Marcus in the center of his chest as air rushed out of his lungs.

His eyes were so big, and their warmth was evident even in the dim lighting of the bar. Marcus knew it wasn’t possible, but he could have sworn that those eyes looked straight into the depths of his soul. It was ridiculous, he knew, just like the zing of electricity and the consistent throbbing of his cock since their initial contact.

Someone jostled Andy, and he reached out to steady himself, grabbing onto the closest thing at hand: Marcus. Evergreens, that’s what Andy smelled like pressed up against him; he smelled like a trek through untainted woodlands. Andy trembled in his arms, and Marcus unconsciously tightened his hold.

“I got you.” The words slipped out as an unconscious response. Then he automatically manoeuvred the two of them so his back was to the crowd and Andy was sheltered against the bar. Marcus recognized his protectiveness and hoped Andy wouldn’t notice.

But the way Andy gazed up at him with those big doe eyes made Marcus’ actions seem like the most natural response. Marcus blinked as he felt his heartbeat increase; his protectiveness had never hit so hard so fast. It was starting to freak him the fuck out.

Marcus cleared his throat and set Andy firmly on his feet. Then he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets before he could reach for the other man again. He took a step away.

“You should, uh, go dancing.” Marcus suggested, nodding at the dance floor.

Andy grabbed his drink, still looking a little unsteady on his feet, and took a big gulp which only set him off on another coughing fit. Marcus quickly took the glass and rubbed his back until the coughing receded, cursing his stupid protective streak and its soft spot for helpless people. He put the empty glass down on the bar with a thud and grabbed Andy’s hand.

“Come on,” he said. He led Andy out toward the crowd and did his best to ignore the tingle of electricity traveling up his arm and across his body. He positioned Andy on the edge of the dance floor with a nod. “You dance, I’ll watch.”

Andy just stood there for a moment and stared back at Marcus until understanding dawned. It was incredible the way every thought was written so plainly on the guy’s face, Marcus realized.

Doe Eyes’ Adam’s apple bobbed; that meant he was nervous. His eyes were wide and unfocused; that meant fear. There was tension across his shoulders—anxiety that manifested physically and wound him up tight.

Marcus could read all of it as if it were printed in black and white. Where the hell did this guy come from? Curiosity nagged at the back of Marcus’ mind, intriguing him in the same way Marcus was intrigued by certain pieces of art. Who the hell was this guy? And why the fuck was he at a gay bar?

Andy was still just standing, and the people around him were starting to notice. Marcus nodded and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Another bob of the Adam’s apple and a fleeting glance around with wide, unblinking eyes, and then Andy started moving. It was just a little awkward bouncing at first until he caught the beat, then it became a more coordinated swaying.

Backing up until he could lean against a nearby wall, Marcus settled in to watch. He let his eyes roam up and down Andy’s body and took in the ill-fitting, uncoordinated outfit. His fingers tingled at the memory of what that body felt like through those clothes, pressed up against him. His cock jumped at the lingering traces of Andy’s scent.

Shifting to ease the sudden pressure in his jeans, Marcus chided himself for his reaction. The guy wasn’t really Marcus’ type, but there was no denying that Marcus found him attractive. He kept noticing those shy looks, swollen lips and thick neck; he wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted with those body parts in a more intimate setting.

Andy wasn’t like other guys, Marcus’ protective side lectured him. Andy wasn’t just someone he could bring home for a fuck fest. Andy was… Marcus didn’t know what the fuck Andy was; he just knew Andy was different.

At some point while Marcus was ogling the man, Andy had lost himself to the beat of the music; his arms were raised, his hips shook, and he was gyrating with the best of them.

Shit, Doe Eyes could dance—like, really dance. He was turning heads with the way he moved his body. How the hell could he dance like that when he looked… like that? The dichotomy tugged at Marcus, and his protective side nudged him off the wall to stand a little closer.

Andy seemed oblivious to the attention he attracted. He danced and spun, and Marcus let his eyes drift lower to get a good view of that ass encased in khakis. Not the sexiest attire, Marcus admitted, but it was enough to tease.

As Marcus watched, Andy tossed his head and cast a look over his shoulder; there was a flash of eye contact so quick that Marcus wasn’t even sure it happened. Then a second glance held a fraction longer; there was no mistaking it this time. Doe Eyes was flirting. So much for sweetness and innocence.

The realization sent tingles of electric spark across Marcus’ skin, and his cock went from a dull ache to rock hard in that fraction of a second. Marcus took another step closer and let himself get drawn in by whatever strange pull Doe Eyes had on him.

Doe Eyes spun again, arms raised above his head, ass swaying back and forth to the music. It was mesmerizing, and it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. There were dozens of guys at The Ritz, most of them with fewer clothes on than Andy, many of them dancing more provocatively than Andy. But none of them were half as intriguing, with his unassuming air and suggestive glances.

Before he realized he was moving, Marcus found himself inches away from Andy. Doe Eyes peeked up at him, and something in the middle of Marcus’ chest constricted at the heat and longing he saw in those warm brown eyes.

Maybe this guy was naïve and inexperienced at the game, but Marcus detected an underlying sensuality that begged to be let out. He itched to be the one to uncover it, to peel back the shy exterior and discover what lay underneath.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they were up against each other, chest to chest, lips floating centimeters apart. Marcus wrapped his arms around Doe Eyes and pressed their bodies together. Andy’s body was thicker than most of the guys he picked up, but Marcus was surprised at how much he enjoyed having more man to fill his arms. His cock jumped at the thought, and he ground it against Andy’s matching bulge.

He leaned in, breathed the clean, woodsy scent wafting off Andy, and helped himself to the delicate skin along Andy’s neck. He kissed, licked and sucked at the sensitive skin until Doe Eyes writhed in his arms and made impatient little sounds from his throat. Burying one hand in Doe Eye’s thick hair, Marcus angled his head to capture the rosy lips with his own.

He swiped his tongue across those tequila-stained lips until Andy opened for him. Then he plunged in to stake his claim, driven by the satisfied roar of his protective streak. Marcus growled low in his chest when he felt Andy’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and he tightened his own hold as he sucked on Andy’s tongue. God, this guy tasted so good. Marcus drank eagerly from his mouth.

The man in Marcus’ arms had been transformed. Gone were the shyness and uncertainty; in its place was a man who looked like he had been starved of physical contact his whole life and was just now discovering how good it felt.

Andy moaned against Marcus’ mouth, his hands roamed freely across Marcus’ shoulders, back, and down to his ass. When he spread his fingers wide around Marcus’ butt cheeks and squeezed hard, the responding jolt of arousal in Marcus’ groin was potent enough to make him break their kiss.

He was dizzy from the lack of air. When was the last time he had gotten dizzy from making out so hard?

Andy clutched at him, and Marcus squeezed back. The urge to bend Andy over and drive himself deep into his body was overwhelming. Marcus hadn’t felt such a primal need to copulate in a long, long time.

“Fuck,” he whispered into Andy’s ear. “We need to get out of here.”

Andy blinked, the haze of desire thick over his eyes.

“Your place or mine?”

Andy stared blankly at Marcus for half a second too long. “Your place or mine?” Marcus demanded with a growl.

“Yours,” Andy answered.

“Let’s go.” Marcus took his hand and led them out into the cool night air.