Judgment of the Moon and Stars Read online

He…worked.

  Mostly because it also helped disguise how lonely he was.

  Maybe it’s time I take a weekend off for me.

  * * * *

  It was nearly midnight by the time Jackson arrived home that evening, exhausted, yet his mind spinning with all sorts of possibilities. He’d already friended a couple of the guys he’d met tonight on FetLife. Not for dating purposes, but to start branching out. He’d never meet a guy for him if he didn’t start meeting people in general.

  He also joined Venture’s FetLife group, and even found a group for people who attended events at the Toucan on a regular basis.

  He was about to shut his laptop off when he hesitated.

  Fuck it.

  He pulled out his credit card, booked a room for Saturday night at the Toucan, and refused to second-guess himself.

  He’d start somewhere.

  Even if all it meant was he spent an interesting evening people-watching, it was still better than sitting in front of the damn TV and bingeing another TV series on Netflix.

  He had to force himself out of this rut.

  It was that, or he was going to spend the rest of his life alone with a head full of fantasies.

  That wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his life, and even if it meant he hit a few potholes along the way, he knew this was the road he was supposed to be traveling.

  Hopefully he wouldn’t travel it alone for long.

  Chapter Two

  Maybe it was the two margaritas. Maybe it was the throbbing bassline of the dance music swirling as thick as any sea fog through the pool courtyard area.

  Maybe it was the colored lights hung from the roof on the buildings on either side of the courtyard that turned the space into a giant open-air dance floor.

  Maybe it was the hundreds of mostly men like himself there to have a good time that sultry Saturday night.

  Maybe, maybe, maybe…

  Noah’s body had loosened up a little, swaying in time with the music as he watched guys in the pool, the hot tub, grinding on each other as they danced.

  This was his second time at the Toucan resort in St. Pete. The first time, he’d been too scared to even leave his room after dark, wistfully watching through the window from his darkened second-floor room as guys partied and enjoyed themselves just feet away on the other side of the glass.

  He swore this time he would get out and enjoy himself. Mingle. Maybe even make it over to the drag queen show, or perhaps the leather bar, which sat tucked into one corner of the resort’s complex, just to look around.

  He swore, this time, to not give in to his ball-shriveling terror.

  These guys were all here for the same reason he was—to have a good time. Defining that good time depended on the person.

  Tonight he stood on the fringes of the tiki bar near the courtyard, while sipping the last dregs of his second frozen margarita, a pole supporting the roof to his left providing a marginal amount of cover as he leaned against it and fought the urge to cling to it. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, flip-flops, too nervous yet to strip down to the black Speedo he wore under them that he’d bought from Amazon so he wouldn’t have to endure the embarrassment of trying it on in a store and then actually handing it over to a cashier to ring him up.

  He licked the salt from the rim of the glass and tried to decide if he wanted a third drink or not.

  Or if he needed the courage it would provide.

  Before him were guys of all ages, builds, types. Leather Daddies and hot, hairless twinks, bears and silver foxes, gym rats and chubs.

  He gave thanks it was after dark, because every time a guy walked past him and winked or blew him a kiss, he felt his cheeks heat, wondering if they were really interested in him or maybe it was someone standing behind him.

  Heck, I’m horrible at this.

  The only way he was going to get any better at this was to dive in and talk to someone. He had condoms and lube in his room, he’d gotten test results—even though he’d never been with a guy before—which were also in his room, and he’d spent the past month using the butt plug—also an Amazon purchase because like hell could he force himself to step into an adult shop—and felt reasonably certain he could take a guy who wasn’t hung like a horse.

  He’d also left his personal cell phone in his room, turned off. It would be his damned luck to meet up with a guy just to have his mother call as they got hot and heavy.

  He hated lying to her, but he’d told her he was out of town for work for a conference, and would have crappy reception. At least that was only partially a lie. The county administrator and several others, including all of the county commissioners, were out of town this weekend, up in Tallahassee at a state conference. It’d been covered in the papers, even.

  Which was why his work cell was also on the dresser in his room, but it was turned on, the ringer loud, on the extremely remote chance someone needed to get ahold of him.

  At least that way his mother wouldn’t blow up his phone when he didn’t return her call right away, if she called.

  The second margarita finally started taking hold. He left the empty glass on a nearby high top and stepped down into the courtyard, out from under the shelter of the tiki bar.

  He felt…subsumed. Maybe invisible, although he wasn’t sure if that was good or not. Guys danced all around him, or at least gathered together and talked in small groups.

  One twink turned, spotted him, smiled, and started dancing with him, draping his arms over Noah’s shoulders and swaying with him. Around five-seven, he had gorgeous light green eyes, playfully ruffled dark brown hair, and an all-over tan Noah guessed was his natural skin tone and not from a booth or time spent on a beach.

  “Hey, papi. Looking for fun tonight?” He tipped his head closer and dropped his voice. “Choo give me a good spankin’, choo get a good time.”

  The twink looked to be half Noah’s age, but something about his accent felt forced, fake. Hopefully the guy was at least twenty-one, because the smell of rum on his breath meant he’d been drinking, too. The guy wasn’t bad-looking. Adorable, actually. From the hard cock outlined along the front of his barely-there swimsuit, he had a nice seven inches or so.

  Noah smiled. “Not a Top, sorry.” And you’re way too young for me.

  The kid shrugged, leaned in, and nibbled on Noah’s right earlobe. “Room 233, choo interested later. Wouldn’t mind riding you.” The kid kissed his cheek, and like that, he slipped back into the throng and disappeared into the crowd.

  Noah swallowed hard, his cock throbbing in his shorts.

  I’m forty-two. What the hell am I doing here?

  Except he couldn’t use the age excuse. There were plenty of guys all around him, Tops and bottoms, who were obviously older than him. Despite his curiosity about the leather bar on-site, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be pulled into the orbit of one of the leather Tops tonight. He had a feeling that, despite his far deeper than passing fantasies about BDSM, the guys in the leather bar likely operated at a higher gear that his mental transmission didn’t even possess, much less shift into.

  He didn’t even want a life-long relationship right now. He wanted fun, he wanted to prove to himself he could find a guy, and he wanted to extricate himself from his fear. He’d finally worked through the outer margins of a shitload of negative thought patterns about himself and was ready to push a little more. All he wanted to do this weekend was pop his cherry. In fact, it was probably better if it was a one-night stand tonight, because he wasn’t sure his nerves could handle more than that.

  He damn sure didn’t want to tell someone he’d just met anything personal about him, like what he did for a living.

  Sex.

  He wanted sex.

  Satisfying, ball-draining, no-strings-attached sex.

  He hadn’t been laid in over ten years, and he wanted someone for a partner besides his own damn hands.

  And he wanted an experienced guy to pop his cherry and give him a night to remember.

&
nbsp; Is that too much to ask?

  Working his way through the throng, he ended up on the outer edges of the primary mass of bodies, standing in the breezeway along the front of the pool-facing rooms on the lower level of the north building.

  Studying it from this angle, it almost appeared as an impenetrable wall of flesh.

  Might as well be a shield wall of hostile Vikings protecting their mead stocks.

  You screwed up. You should have just knuckled under, stayed married to Meg, and kept your head down.

  That was a mental admonishment of his own.

  You’re going to burn in hell for this.

  That was his mother’s voice.

  Except she hadn’t said that to him directly.

  Not yet.

  She didn’t know the truth about him, or she likely would have said it to him a thousand times by now.

  Eventually, he made his way over to the covered patio area outside the hotel’s restaurant and settled in a chair at a vacant table. There weren’t many men in that area, a few smoking cigars in a far corner, but it seemed the bulk of the attendees were either in the pool, or dancing or talking in the courtyard area around it, or had moved inside to one of the other bars and dance clubs in the complex.

  Or to their rooms.

  This was a mistake.

  He was kidding himself if he thought he was going to find someone here. That anyone might be interested in him. There seemed to be a literal code he was completely clueless about. Some guys sported bandanas of various colors in back pockets, or wrist- or armbands, some with color stripes on them. Or chest harnesses over bare flesh.

  Here he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Although that wasn’t too out of place when compared to the guys in barely-there swimsuits, and even other guys dressed casually like he was.

  Except the other guys apparently had no trouble meeting people.

  He also didn’t have the emotional energy to force himself to wade through those people and…mingle.

  Not again.

  He’d almost decided to get up and return to his room when a voice spoke from just behind him.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  * * * *

  Jackson had emerged from the restaurant with his burger and fries and thought he’d have a hard time finding a table to sit at. It’d not only surprised him to find there were plenty of seats available, but there was a fairly cute guy sitting alone at one of the tables.

  Deciding to take a risk, he walked over to him. “Mind if I join you?”

  The cutie had gorgeous blue eyes, neatly trimmed brown hair, and from his wide-eyed look of fear when his head jerked toward him, Jackson assumed the guy was probably new to the scene.

  “Um…sure. Yeah.”

  “Thanks.” Jackson settled into the chair next to him so they wouldn’t have to shout or repeat every other word over the increasingly loud music. “Glad my room’s not poolside,” Jackson said. “My first time here.”

  “My second, but I…” He shrugged. “Might as well be my first time.”

  He offered his hand. “Jackson.”

  “Noah.” The man shook with a politely firm grip.

  Now able to really get a good look at the man, Jackson read a slight air of borderline terror from him, scared rabbit.

  Fresh meat.

  But he was a cutie. Jackson couldn’t tell how old he was for sure, maybe a little older than him if the lines around the outer edges of his eyes were a clue, and no idea if he was taller than him, either. Average build, but the man’s T-shirt could have been hiding the truth to one extreme or the other. It wasn’t exactly baggy on him, but it wasn’t form-fitting to show off his torso, either.

  “So what happened your first time here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He wanted to get the guy talking without pressuring him, if possible. Keep him talking, at least long enough for Jackson to finish his food.

  Then he’d ask the guy if he wanted to go have a drink at one of the bars.

  Or if he wanted to come back to Jackson’s room to talk alone.

  “I just…” Noah shrugged. “I lost my nerve.”

  “I’m guessing you’re single?”

  He snorted and looked down at his hands, which now lay clasped on the table. “Yeah,” he softly said, barely audible over the music. “Over ten years now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t her fault. She treated me better than she might have during the divorce. We weren’t even married a year. She covered for me to my family.”

  Ah. Another few puzzle pieces.

  And more suspicion that he needed to tread very, very lightly. Delicately, even.

  “It can be hard meeting someone,” Jackson said. “Especially if there’s family or job issues to deal with.”

  The guy nodded, his brow lifting. “You can say that again.”

  Bingo.

  A guy who wanted to be cautious, careful.

  Discreet.

  That meant a guy who, hopefully, wouldn’t go batshit on him.

  A guy he didn’t have to tell too much about himself right now.

  “I’m the same way,” Jackson said. “My job’s not really at risk, but I need to keep some of my special interests…concealed.”

  The guy’s blue eyes focused on him again and Jackson’s cock reared up in his shorts and said hello, baby.

  “Like what?” Noah asked.

  Jackson glanced around the courtyard area, then tipped his head toward some of the guys off to the side smoking cigars.

  “I’m a Dom. Not hard-core like those guys. I’m not a heavy sadist. I mean, I do like to play, but that’s just one part of it, not my raison d’être. My problem is finding a guy who is willing to step back and let me be in control day-to-day when it comes to our relationship, but who is also an independent person outside the home. I need a guy with his own job, who, when he comes home, wants to put that aside, unplug from the world, and focus on us.”

  He let that lay out there for a long moment before speaking again. “Anything in that interest you, even for just one night?”

  Noah started to speak, licked his lips…and firmly nodded.

  Chapter Three

  Jackson was gorgeous—hazel eyes that seemed to shift and pick up different colors in the light, sometimes brown, sometimes green. His short, black hair was neatly styled, but it looked like running a hand through it would turn it playfully shaggy and unkempt in a casual, sexy way. When Jackson stood to go throw away his paper plate, Noah stood, too. At six-one, Noah knew the other man was maybe five eleven, just a couple of inches shorter than him. And Jackson seemed to have a slightly slimmer build to his body.

  “How about we go to your room to talk?” Jackson suggested. “Somewhere we don’t need to scream.”

  Noah nodded and turned to lead the way, his heart slamming against the walls of his chest. A hunky guy had found him.

  His room was on the upper floor of the north building, facing the pool courtyard. Sure, it’d be noisier than a room on the back side of the resort, but he hadn’t been sure if he’d be able to work up the courage to mingle. He’d wanted to at least be able to watch some of the festivities, in case he chickened out.

  He had a single king bed in his room, and had only brought the barest essentials with him. He checked his work cell, which lay on the dresser next to his personal cell, but he had no calls, no texts.

  “Two phones?” Jackson asked.

  “Work. I’m sort of on call this weekend. Doubtful anybody will need me.”

  “Good.” Instead of the bed, Jackson sat at the small window-side table next to it and offered him a smile. “I’d kind of like having you all to myself tonight, if you decide you want to spend it with me.”

  It felt like he couldn’t suck in a breath, but he nodded.

  Jackson reached over and patted the edge of the bed in front of him. “Come sit. Let’s talk. Just talk, for now.”

  Noah rounded the end of the bed and sat where Jackso
n had patted it.

  “Are you local?” Jackson asked.

  Noah nodded. “I…no offense, but I really don’t want to talk a lot about myself right now.”

  “That’s fair. But you’re single?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So am I. I’m from Sarasota.”

  Noah wanted to blurt out he was, too, but managed to suck that back. Barely. “I’m on FetLife.”

  “Okay, see? That’s good.” Jackson pulled a phone out of his pocket and thumbed into it. He turned it to show Noah the screen. “That’s my profile. I’ve been on the site for a while, but only recently started friending people.”

  Noah noted his profile name. “I’ll send you a friend request. Unless you want me to do it right now?”

  Jackson’s smile looked kind. “Doesn’t have to be right now.” He set his phone facedown on the table. “I get the feeling you haven’t been with a lot of guys.”

  Noah managed to shake his head.

  “Any guys?” Jackson asked.

  He shook his head again.

  “Ah.” But it sounded kind.

  Everything about the guy felt…kind.

  “Is that part of why, your first time here, you didn’t hook up with anyone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ve been with guys before. I’ve been out since high school. Because of my job, I’ve been pretty busy. I haven’t found anyone who really matched me in a relationship. I’m not into random hookups.” He pulled his wallet out, withdrew a piece of paper, and showed Noah.

  Test results from the week before, neg across the line.

  “Mine are up there.” He turned and pointed, started to rise, but Jackson stayed him with a hand.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t mean we needed to get there this second.”

  Noah sat. “Okay. Sorry.”

  Jackson set his wallet and test results aside and gently gripped Noah’s hands. “Please don’t apologize. You’re doing great. See? First negotiation you’re working through.”

  * * * *

  Holy cow, Jackson was torn between wanting to disengage and run, and wanting to shove Noah onto the bed and claim him.