Free Cast Off by KC Burn

musk and beer strong in his nose. Many of the men around him had already removed sweaty shirts and the humidity in the air was laced with sexual tension.
    Rick breathed deeply, nostalgia sweeping him. At thirty-five, he’d done a lot of clubbing in his life, and while the venues, clothes, and booze du jour might have changed, the scent of dancing, horny men never did.
    Closing his eyes, he let his other senses guide him, partly because he wasn’t keen on comparing his slowly aging body with the strong young forms around him. Not that he’d gone completely to seed, but it took more effort to keep himself tight and toned than it did ten years ago. Hell, even two years ago his metabolism made his friends jealous.
    Then he let his eyelids flip open, because he was also partly here for the scenery. If he had to be here, dancing and sightseeing were part of the agenda. Getting laid wouldn’t hurt either, but he wished he had one of his fuck buddies with him for guaranteed sex. He’d already seen one too many pitying looks by Anaconda’s clientele, which definitely skewed much younger than he was.
    It didn’t make any sense, but older twinks weren’t as acceptable as older bears. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. He was five-nine, slim, and blond. At twenty, he’d been mobbed at clubs. At thirty-five, he still enjoyed the sensual mood of a club, but he usually frequented venues that catered to his age group. Probably be a million times worse if he was looking for a partner or husband, instead of a quick hand job in the bathroom or a blow job in the parking lot.
    Then again, if he’d wanted something serious, Oscar would undoubtedly be waiting. Rick pursed his lips. It sucked when he had to break up with one of his fuck buddies. Most times, Rick was the one “dumped” when one of his guys decided they wanted something more and found it with someone else. Oscar’s decision that they should move in together had taken Rick by surprise, but it wasn’t the first time someone had suddenly transformed into a keeper without any warning, wanting strings and emotions and full disclosure. Not in a million years was he signing up for that.
    Nevertheless, the attrition of serious relationships had his rotation down to none, and he had a strong suspicion that Ivan, his police detective and possible backup, had found a guy he was getting serious about.
    Rick certainly didn’t expect to find anything tonight. He wasn’t here for sex, but if some found him in this sea of hard male flesh, he sure as shit wouldn’t say no.
    The song changed to one with a slower beat. If he’d had any serious prospects, he’d have taken the opportunity to grind up against a groin or ass. Touch palms to pecs or the sweaty curve of a lower back. Perhaps even slide a finger under a waistband, seeking haven between taut, muscular buttocks.
    Instead, he chose to indulge another craving and headed to the bar.
    The bartender appeared in front of him in a gratifyingly short time.
    “What’ll you have?” The man smiled appreciatively, but Rick had learned long ago not to trust the interest of either bartenders or strippers. Not when they were on the clock.
    What would he have? Beer, beer or beer? Rick waved at the amber bottle his neighbor was drinking from.
    “That will be fine.”
    “He certainly is fine.” The bartender winked. “Oooh. The beer. Got it.”
    A comedian. A bad one. Rick barely suppressed an eye roll and placed some cash on the bar. He picked up the beer and moved away to stand by the wall.
    He grimaced after a sip. Beer wasn’t his drink at all, but given the average age of the young men dancing, he didn’t imagine the wine cellar at Anaconda would be worth trying to expand his wine palate.
    Probably should have gotten water.
    “Rick!”
    Turning, he saw Jon walking toward him, all fetished up in his leather harness and skintight leather pants. Pants he suspected most of the clientele would have to subsist on ramen for