He’d asked Zack to straddle his hips and ride his cock, Zack’s thigh muscles flexing as he worked himself up and down the shaft. The mental image alone was enough to make Zack’s mouth water. John had refused to move, forcing Zack to do all the work. It had driven Zack insane: getting just enough friction to feel good but not enough to come. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and begged John to fuck him. John had then flipped Zack onto his knees and draped himself over his back, mouth pressed hotly to Zack’s ear so he could whisper filthy things to him as he pounded into him.

Listening to John describe it had almost made Zack come in his jeans. Even worse, it made him crave to be fucked like that.

Zack shivered and snapped back to reality. The last thing he needed was to get hard again when he was supposed to be preparing for a night out.

“That does it,” he muttered. “I need to get laid.” He reached into his closet and pulled out his favorite club outfit. It was simple but devastating: skinny jeans, a red button-down shirt, and a black vest. He wore the sleeves rolled up to show off his muscular arms and only buttoned the shirt halfway. It looked like someone had already started undressing him. The jeans were tight right where he wanted them to be, and the vest highlighted his back and toned abdomen. Plus, he loved to take formal clothes and dress them down. It felt like breaking the rules.

Kira had told him once that he looked like “the kind of trouble people love to get into” when he wore this outfit. That was precisely the image he wanted for tonight.

When Zack finished dressing, he slid his wallet and keys into his back pocket. He checked his phone and found a text from Alexa with the club’s address and a reminder for him to invite “friends.” Zack smiled. Perhaps tonight would be the night he’d finally get Alexa to admit she was carrying a torch for Kira. Someone needed to get lucky tonight, even if it wasn’t him.

Zack replenished Ziggy’s food and water and then left, locking the door behind him. The streets were empty except for rustling leaves and the occasional car. According to Google, it was about a twenty-minute walk. Zack would get there just before nine. In LA, that was considered fashionably late. Nights out in the city started at either dawn or dusk. The clubs and bars closed at two in the morning, but the after-parties didn’t start until much later. Zack was usually working. It was nice to see how the other side lived for once.