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so call me maybe

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Luke can feel the bass thumping deep in his bones. Generally, loud music and drink is something he enjoys. But not today. Drink fogs Luke's brain as he tries to remember why he's even here. Why is he here? How did he end up in this crammed stinking bar that oozes the stench of body odour so powerfully that Luke feels swamped in it? He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, then leans back against the bar. He wants to go home but god... he's so smashed he can't even find the exit. He wallows in his misery and focuses so hard on not breathing in too deeply that he doesn't notice Hugh prance up to him, a drink in one hand, and the other wrapped around a girl's waist. Hayley? Hannah? No, Anna. That’s it. Anna. Whatever. She’s got nice tits and everything but Luke’s not interested.

Hugh yells something to him but Luke doesn’t hear, because he’s spotted a guy on the opposite side of the bar who’s so hot Luke’s sure his heart stops momentarily. The music seems to dim and Luke sobers up as though someone’s poured cold water on him. Maybe he isn’t drunk. Maybe it’s a mix of tiredness and stress and boredom. And yeah, drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea, even if it was only a couple beers. Hugh follows Luke’s line of sight, and smirks when he spots the guy.

“Betcha you couldn’t get him even if you payed him,” he teases.

Luke frowns up at him. “Don’t be stupid.”

But as he looks back at the guy, he figures, hey, maybe it’s worth a try. The guy is the embodiment of rugged handsome rocker who smokes a lot. Luke’s not actually sure about the smoking part, because in a bar full of people with cigarettes, the guy looks down at his drinking in a bored, careless way, fiddling with the lid of a beer bottle or something.

“I’m honestly willing to bet,” offers Hugh, letting go of Anna and pulling a tenner out of his pocket and slapping it down on the bar.

“Me too,” says Luke, standing up so suddenly that his stool nearly tips over.

He sticks his hands into the pockets of his (skin tight) jeans and saunters casually over to the guy, glancing back at Hugh and Anna once, then resolving not to do so ever again because he can see them sniggering at him from behind their stupid drinks.

The seat next to the guy is empty, so Luke sits down casually, looking at the blackboard above him, as though choosing what drink to order.

“Long day?”

Luke looks up to locate the source of the voice, and is surprised when he realises that it was the hot guy who had spoken. The hot guy who’s even hotter up close, because Luke can see that he’s unshaven and the slight stubble that lines his jaw makes Luke sure that his knees would have given way. Thank christ he’s sitting down.

“Yeah, just winding down. You want a drink?” Luke says this without so much as a second glance towards him, because he’s not sure he’d be able to control what goes on in his pants.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees the guy nod and slide some money across to him, but Luke waves him away and pays himself.

As the bartender gets their drinks, Luke introduces himself, and learns that the guy’s name is Pete. Pete has very big hands and wears a ring that Luke would… Yeah. He clears his throat, then nods in thanks towards the bartender as he slides their drinks to them.

“So, Pete…”

Pete looks up expectantly, but when they make eye contact, Luke loses his train of thought, and is embarrassed by his weakness and lack of dignity.

Pete’s still looking at him, so Luke panics and, without thinking, blurts out,
“my mate bet me that I couldn’t get your number.”

Pete doesn’t look fazed, as though he gets told this kind of stuff every day, and says, “how much did you bet?”

“A tenner.”

“Right,” Pete nods slowly, “was there a bonus if you managed to get into my pants?”

Luke swallows nervously, then licks his lips and smiles weakly. “No, but the idea itself was enough incentive to come over.”

Pete cracks a grin at this, then leans in close enough that Luke can feel his breath on his cheek.

“That’s… that’s not fair, you can’t do that,” Luke stammers.

“Why?” Pete says, putting his hand on Luke’s thigh.

Luke’s looking everywhere but at Pete, but he can tell he’s smirking, that smug, flirty, beautiful bastard.

Pete’s hand creeps up Luke’s thigh, and when it’s almost at his hip, Luke chokes out fuck and stands up, pulling Pete after him, shoving through the crowd of sweaty bodies until they find an exit and end up in an empty alley.

Here Pete pushes him up againsy a wall and kisses him roughly, and Luke can feel the prickle of his stubble against his chin, feel Pete’s hand cupping the side of his face, feeling the other hand feeling him god knows where.

And then without warning Pete pulls away and leaves Luke gasping for air, suddenly noticing the autumn chill against his bare arms. Where’s his jacket? Before he has time to fully regain his senses, Pete is back at it, working his lips against Luke’s exposed neck. His head falls back against the brick wall and a gasp escapes his mouth, echoing around the empty lane. Luke relishes in the feeling for a full five seconds. And then Pete’s gone again, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

“Bit chilly isn’t it?” He says conversationally, then starts heading back inside, throwing a look over his shoulder to see if Luke’s following.

He pushes himself off the wall and goes through the door, brushing close past Pete, who’s holding the door open for him.

They sit back at the bar, where Pete scribbles his number down on a napkin, then slides it over to Luke.

“Call me if you’re up for round two, hey? A proper round though. That was child’s play. I’m heading home; it’s been a long day. See you ‘round, probably.”

Luke’s left stunned, staring dumbly at the napkin. What the fuck?

Then Hugh and Anna are there, Anna’s nice tits having even less affect on Luke than before. But after Pete’s little performance, would anything have any affect on him ever again.

“What was that?” Hugh sounds a mix between jealous and amused.

“That guy is so hot. God, Luke, is that a hickey?” Anna points at his neck.

“I… What? Fuck, it is. Dammit.”

Luke stands up, shaky, still, then pulls on his jacket, the one that had been sitting at his stool, waiting for him since he left with Pete. “I’m going home,” he tells them, and Hugh looks surprised.

“It’s only just gone eleven though.”

“I know. See you guys later,” he throws them a wave as he leaves.

Then five seconds later he’s back. “Oy, give me my money. I won the bet.” Luke grins for the first time that night. A flustered looking Hugh hands him the note, and Luke leaves with a satisfied smile on his face.

Once he escapes the stench and music of the bar, he pulls out his phone and types in the number on the napkin.

The phone rings four times before Pete answers, his voice husky and rough and god, so good.

“Hey, it’s Luke.”

“Hey man,” Pete says, and it sounds as if the bastard’s yawning.

“You up for round two yet?”