Doug's fingers hovered over the keyboard, his eyes locked on the screen where Jay's profile glowed back at him. He had seen this face before, many times, on a different site—one where the intentions were raw, unfiltered, and dripping with the kind of hunger that made Doug's stomach tighten. But that was the other Jay, the one with the biohazard tattoo above his cock, the versatile top who didn't shy away from the words "poz undetectable" or "bareback." This Jay, the one on the dating site, was softer somehow, though the silver hair and beard were the same, and the confident smirk played at the edges of his lips in just the same way.
Doug exhaled slowly, his fingers finally moving. You're thinking of trying dating again? he typed, then deleted it. Too eager. He tried again. I noticed you're open to whatever. That's... refreshing. He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
The reply came faster than he expected. Open to whatever is putting it mildly. But yes, dating. Maybe. If the right person asks.
Doug's pulse quickened. He could practically hear Jay's voice, low and rough, like gravel under boots. He typed back, Dinner? Tomorrow? and then added, Somewhere quiet.
Jay's response was immediate. Perfect. There's a place on 9th. Small, dim lighting. Good wine.
Doug's cock twitched in his jeans at the thought of that voice murmuring over a glass of red wine. He sent the address of the restaurant and the time, then leaned back in his chair, already imagining the way Jay's beard would brush against his clean-shaven jaw when they kissed.
The restaurant was exactly as Jay had described it—small, intimate, with low lighting that cast shadows across the tables. Doug arrived early, his hands wrapped around a glass of water he didn't really want. He had dressed carefully, in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that clung to his lean frame, the fabric just tight enough to hint at the definition beneath. He wanted Jay to look at him and see something worth touching.
When Jay walked in, Doug's breath caught. The man was even more striking in person—tall, broad-shouldered, his silver hair catching the dim light. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Doug immediately. Doug stood, his chair scraping slightly against the floor, and Jay's lips curved into a smile as he approached.
"You're taller than I expected," Jay said, his voice a low rumble as he extended a hand.
Doug took it, the grip firm and warm. "You're not."
Jay's laugh was rich, deep. "Fair enough." He sat down, his movements fluid, confident. The waiter appeared, and Jay ordered a bottle of wine without glancing at the menu, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he spoke.
Doug watched those fingers, imagining them tracing down his chest, lower, wrapping around his cock. He shifted slightly in his seat, his jeans suddenly too tight.
"So," Jay said, leaning back as the waiter poured the wine. "Tell me something about you that isn't on your profile."
Doug swallowed, his throat dry. "I run. Marathons, usually."
Jay's eyes flicked over him, appreciative. "Explains the body."
Doug felt his face heat. "And you?"
"I lift." Jay's hand moved to his glass, his bicep flexing slightly beneath the sleeve of his shirt. "And I'm good with my hands."
Doug's cock throbbed at the innuendo, at the way Jay's gaze held his, unflinching. He took a sip of wine, the liquid burning slightly as it went down. "I bet you are."
Jay's smile widened, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against Doug's wrist. "I think we're going to get along just fine."
The conversation flowed easier after that, though Doug's skin remained warm everywhere Jay's eyes lingered. They talked about books, about travel, about the way the city had changed over the years. Jay's phone buzzed a few times, and each time he glanced at it, his fingers moving quickly over the screen as he responded. Doug tried not to let it bother him, but the third time it happened, his jaw tightened slightly.
Jay noticed, of course. He set his phone down, his expression apologetic. "Work. I'm sorry."
Doug waved a hand. "It's fine."
Jay's fingers curled around his wrist again, his thumb rubbing lightly over Doug's pulse point. "It's not. But I promise, I'm here now."
Doug's irritation melted under the touch, under the intensity of Jay's gaze. "Okay."
Jay's smile returned, slow and deliberate. "Good boy."
The words sent a shiver down Doug's spine, his cock hardening further. He wanted to be good for Jay. He wanted to be anything Jay wanted.
The walk back to Jay's place was quiet, the night air cool against Doug's heated skin. They walked close, their shoulders brushing, and every so often, Jay's hand would graze against his, sending sparks through his body.
When they reached Jay's building, Doug turned to face him, his heart pounding. Jay stepped into his space, his hand cupping Doug's jaw, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
"You're beautiful," Jay murmured, his voice rough.
Doug's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching as Jay's thumb pressed lightly against them. "I want—"
"I know what you want," Jay interrupted, his voice low, commanding. He leaned in, his lips capturing Doug's in a kiss that was slow at first, then deepened, his tongue sliding against Doug's, tasting him.
Doug moaned softly, his hands gripping Jay's hips, pulling him closer. Jay's hand slid down, his fingers digging into Doug's ass, squeezing hard enough to make him gasp.
Jay pulled back slightly, his breath warm against Doug's lips. "I want to see you again."
Doug's fingers flexed against Jay's hips, his body aching for more. "When?"
"Soon." Jay's lips quirked, and he leaned in again.
Doug's cock jerked, his body trembling slightly at the promise. "Yes, please."
Jay chuckled, low and dark, and stepped back, his hand lingering on Doug's ass for a moment longer before he turned and walked into his building, leaving Doug standing there, his lips swollen and his cock painfully hard, already counting the hours until he could see Jay again.
