Chapter One 

Winter Love wasn’t giving up anything for Lent; he never had and he never would, but he participated in Fat Tuesday every year as if he planned to starve himself until Easter. He’d pulled on a rich, green shirt, a gold tie, and a brand-new purple and gold masquerade mask for the occasion, and he was looking forward to a night out. Maybe Mardi Gras was a New Orleans tradition, but The Big Apple could give The Big Easy a run for its money. 

Along with the New Year’s Eve ball and the Halloween costume party, Mardi Gras was one of his favorite nights at Sin Deep. He’d been a member of the kinky club almost as long as he’d lived in New York. Nearly as long as he’d held his job at the public library. He’d started out as a young man, eager to experience new things, to lose himself in the scene. 

Winter studied his boots as he sat in the back of a black sedan. He’d been through countless pairs of chunky, authoritative black boots over the years—boots with buckles or zippers, punk and biker and military style, even a tall pair with silver studs going up the back when that was in fashion. The pair he’d stepped into tonight was new; he’d treated himself as an early fortieth birthday present. They had a nice western heel and toe and the leather was rich and soft. They were more stylish than intimidating, but possibly the most comfortable pair of boots he’d ever owned. 

They suited his almost forty-year-old image better too. He wasn’t eager now. He wasn’t cocky like he used to be, or forward, and he wasn’t one to pursue men anymore. He didn’t feast quite like he used to; he’d grown into a man who preferred to taste and savor rather than devour. He’d earned plenty of respect and was one of the establishment members now; he didn’t need to impress anyone. He liked to watch, have a drink, occasionally make an overture…and he was never turned down. 

Winter’s car pulled up in front of Sin Deep, and he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The tall, heavy front doors stole his breath for a moment as they always did and he instantly broke out in goosebumps. 

Who was he kidding? That confident, forty-year-old club elder was essentially a fantasy. He’d never hunted anything more than a drink at Sin Deep, and although he knew that man intimately in the privacy of his own mind, the persona vanished in a puff of awkward smoke every time he walked through the front doors, leaving little more than a facade behind. 

He needed the place though. It was the closest thing to home he’d ever had. He was never more present, more relaxed than when he was here. Sin Deep was his drug of choice, his pleasure and his weakness, and Mardi Gras was always a good party, even for wallflowers. 

Chapter Two 

“Lord have mercy, man.” Harley plopped down with a sigh, grinning over at his roommate. “I busted my hump today.” 

No one had ever warned him that Yankees were just as bad about ragging the little guy as any bunch of rednecks. He’d done proved himself—he was nothing if not strong as an ox and stubborn as a mule with a burr biting his butthole—but Giorgio and Miguel knew what he could do and drove him like a prize pony. 

Paid him damn well for following directions, carrying shit from one place to a truck, then from the truck to another place. All-in-all, he came home with cash, burning muscles, and the knowledge that his muscles didn’t come from a gym. 

Today was a harpsichord. Who the fuck used a friggin’ harpsichord? Who moved a goddamn harpsichord? 

This little gal with fake boobies, bright pink hair, and a tattoo of a bird on her goddamn face, that’s who. 

Oliver snorted. “You bust your hump every day. Jackson told me two things about you. He said we were going to get along great, and he said I would definitely not have to worry about the rent while you were subletting his room. I totally believe him. What do you do for fun?” 

“Sleep.” He sprawled out, as far as he could. “Uh…back home I went to a couple bars, hung out, I guess.” 

“Exciting.” Oliver rolled his eyes and wandered into his bedroom. The apartment was small enough they could carry on their conversation without even raising their voices. “What is your drink of choice?” 

“I drink Bud Light. Shiner if we’re being fancy. I been known to like a margarita too.” But that was something you drank with your momma or your cousins. Not with the guys, which was stupid, but true. 

“Oh no, no, no, Harley. Sweetheart. That won’t do. Why don’t you come out with me tonight and let me buy you a real drink?” 

That ‘sweetheart’ always made him blush. 

He’d come to stay for a couple months just because Jackson swore this was a friendly place, somewhere he could just be him, and he was having a ball. Especially now that Jackson had decided to stay in Rome for another couple-three months, and he could keep on keeping on. 

“Yeah? You want to?” He had a pair of pretty clean jeans. 

“Yes. Be my date. It will be an adventure. Trust me. Go get dressed.” Oliver came out of his bedroom in his signature skinny jeans and a shiny gold jacket. He didn’t comment on the gold high-heeled booties, but they made Oliver look tall and lean, and there was glitter in Oliver’s short but curly dark hair. “It’s a Mardi Gras party.” 

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” He put on his cleanest jeans and a black t-shirt with his leather jacket and his boots. He didn’t wear his Stetson, because he’d learned quick that meant getting knocked around a ton. He had a cap. 

“Oh, you look so handsome! No hat? Are you sure? Would you like some glitter for your hair?” Oliver held out a mask covered in purple sequins. “And here. You’ll need this.” 

“No glitter, thanks.” Lord, could anyone imagine? “I’ll wear my cap.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might pop out. “Suit yourself. Take the mask, though. You ready? My Uber is here.” 

“I am.” He grabbed his wallet and the mask. “Let’s hasta.” 

He did like him an adventure. 

The car ride didn’t take that long, but that didn’t mean he had any idea where they ended up. “My guess is you’ve never been to a party like this one, sweetheart. Just stick with me for a bit until you get your bearings.” 

They got out of the car and walked up to a set of crazy tall doors that looked heavy but seemed to open by themselves anyway. 

“Is this, like, a funhouse? It seems like something in an amusement park.” That would be cool. He was up for it. 

“It can be. Tonight it’s just a party.” Oliver took his hand and pulled him inside. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting and by the time he had, Oliver was taking off his jacket. “I’ll check your coat with mine, okay?” 

Harley blinked, staring at Oliver, a little agog. “Dude! You are sparkly!” 

And wearing, like a…a…tube top. A sequined Harlequin tube top where his nipples showed, which made sense, since Oliver didn’t have himself boobies. It was like nothing he’d ever seen, but it was so totally Oliver that he just grinned and applauded. 

“Do you like it?” Oliver beamed and turned for him, showing off. 

“Oliver!” A guy in a purple vest and a feathered mask gave Oliver a hug. 

“Jesse! Oh, Jess—can you tighten me up?” 

“Of course. Let me see.” Jesse moved around behind Oliver and tugged until the top Oliver was wearing went taut across his chest.” 

“Ooh. Perfect. Jesse, this is Harley. He’s subletting while Jackson is in Rome.” 

“Harley? Like the motorcycle? I’m Jesse. Like the outlaw.” Jesse offered a hand like he expected Harley to kiss it. 

Harley shook, careful not to squeeze, because he wasn’t an asshole. He’d figured that out, and he wasn’t interested in seeming mean. “Pleased to meet you, sir. How goes?” 

Jesse laughed. “He called me ‘Sir’, Oliver. Where are you from, honey?” 

“Just west of Fort Worth, and I mean no offense.” He winked over. “Polite is part of my charm, I’m told.” 

“Oh my god I love him!” Jesse stepped between him and Oliver. “Welcome to the club, darling. Do you want to dance?” 

“Jess—” 

“You hush, Ollie. You brought me a handsome cowboy.” Jesse leaned a little closer to him, big blue eyes flashing, and he got a whiff of sweet cologne. 

“Now, can I trust you to keep me safe? Because Oliver’s told me to stick to him…” 

Jesse’s eyes went wide. “This is a very classy club, Mr. Harley. But don’t you worry, you’re safe with me.” 

“He is; his virtue on the other hand…” Oliver laughed. 

“I will be very, very careful with the cowboy, I promise.” Jesse took his arm. “It’s just a dance. You can dance, can’t you?” 

“Believe it or not, I can, and I like it.” He could do everything from wild flailing to waltz. He wasn’t fancy, but he wasn’t going to embarrass himself or his dance partner. 

“Charmer.” Jesse pulled him into the crowd. Oliver shouted after them that he’d be at the bar. “Is this your scene? How long have you been in town?” 

“Three months, two weeks, and five days.” Harley winked, laughing at himself. “And I don’t know that I have a scene yet, but this is absolutely my first time here!” 

And it was electric—sparkling and loud, exciting and overwhelming in the best way. 

Jesse laughed as they wove through the crowd, finally finding the dance floor. The lighting was purple and green, shifting with the music. “I can tell. You’re not dressed like you expected to be here tonight. I’m not complaining though, that t-shirt fits you just right.” Jesse’s hands slid over his chest before finding his shoulders and staying there. 

“Oliver didn’t need me upstaging him in his…top.” His hands landed on Jesse’s hips so he could find the man’s rhythm. “This okay?” 

Jesse nodded, stepping closer. “So okay. Go on and lead, honey. I can follow.” 

They started dancing, laughing as they figured out how not to murder one another’s toes. Three songs in, the DJ played a slow song, and he didn’t know Jesse that well, so he backed off. “Want to get a drink? I’m dry as a bone.” 

“That sounds—” 

“Jesse.” 

Jesse froze for a second and gave the tall man in a mask that covered half his face a sheepish look. “Oh, hi.” 

The man crossed his arms, silently, and Jesse looked at Harley. “Oops! I think I’m in trouble.” Jesse winked at him. “But you were a lovely dance partner. Tell Oliver to buy you that drink for me.” 

“Now, Jesse.” 

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. Coming. Bye, Harley!” 

The tall man caught Jesse by the nape and steered him away. He started to go after Jesse; that couldn’t be right. Was Jesse okay? But only made it one step before a hand caught him in the chest. 

“Let them be. It’s okay. This is their thing.” 

“You sure? We just met. He knows my roommate.” His brain insisted he needed to make a fuss, but his gut wasn’t near as sure about that… 

The man that stood there wasn’t so tall he was staring at his bellybutton, but at his chest, and the green eyes were sparkling at him. 

“I’m sure. I’ve known them both for years. You’re here with Ollie.” It wasn’t a question. The guy offered a hand. “I’m Winter.” 

“Winter.” That was a great name! “I’m Harley. Pleased to meet you, sir.” 

Winter. That was something else. Green-eyed Winter. 

“Hello, Harley. I don’t want to keep you from your friend. It was good to meet you. Enjoy your evening.” 

“Have a good evenin’!” He braced himself to head toward the bar, which was sure a crush of folks. There were more people in this building than in his whole hometown. 

Oliver wasn’t hard to find, being taller than most men and colorful too. “You’re back! I thought Winter might have scooped you up.” Oliver tapped the bar “Two whiskey gingers, Leighton.” 

“He wasn’t interested.” That was okay. He’d met two guys in five songs. One that was wanting to be friends was fucking great odds. 

Oliver snorted, eyes darting to the crowd and then back to him. “No? He’s been watching you all night. He’s watching you now.” 

“Stop it.” He was the least sparkly guy in a universe of glitter. A damn accidental black hole. “If he wants a drink, I’ll buy him one.” 

“He doesn’t.” The bartender sat two drinks down and pushed one toward each of them. “He’ll nurse the one he’s got for a while. And he’ll watch, it’s what he does. He’s definitely watching you.” 

“Thank you, sir. What do I owe you?” Now that the guy mentioned it, he could feel eyes on his back. 

“Nothing. A good time. You’re off to a good start. Did you have fun with Jesse?” 

“He’s fun, yeah. Have y’all been friends long?” He sipped the drink, finding it smoky and spicy, but with bubbles. He approved. 

“I guess. Maybe…five or six years? He’s been with Theo all that time. Very taken. So naughty.” Oliver sipped his drink. “He cooks too. Oh my god. Amazing. And this is a silly party night, but you should see him on a regular night. He’s beautiful. He’s just… I mean, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

“He likes to dance. I didn’t know he was with someone. I don’t like to be rude.” It wasn’t in his makeup unless he was fighting. 

“No worries. He liked you, but he was just playing, showing off for Theo. And even if you’d known he was taken, it was just dancing, Harley. Just fun.” 

“Cool. I just don’t know all y’all’s rules. If I can dance with him, that was good.” He thought it was something—how every group of folks, every single one, had their own sets of rules, and if you figured them? Then things worked easier. 

“Everyone’s rules are different, but in here everyone is family. No worries. You can’t get in trouble for having fun.” Oliver sipped his drink. “So Jackson says he’s staying in Rome for a while; are you staying in New York?” 

“I intend to, yessir. I think we do okay, rooming, you and me.” In fact, Oliver seemed happy as a pig in shit. 

“We’re good, sweetheart.” Oliver sipped his drink, then looked at him with a slight frown. “You know he’s not there alone, right?” 

“Jackson? Did he hook up with someone out there?” How fucking cool was that. Then he’d have a reason to go to Italy sometimes. It was always good to have a buddy to visit. 

“No. He went with his partner, Harley. He didn’t tell you he had a boyfriend?” 

“Nope. I mean, he never said one way or the other.” Which was sort of weird. They’d talked a lot about Jackson’s schooling, about Oliver, about the restaurant that he waited tables in, but not a lover? 

“Oh. Well. I’m sure he had a reason.” Oliver shrugged, and he had to wonder if Oliver knew what the reason might be. “Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be back for a while. Last I heard from him he was happy.” 

“Good. I’m all over happiness. He’s my good friend, you know?” He’d worry about whether or not he needed to worry about things later. 

Maybe Sunday. 

“Oh yeah, for sure. He talked about you a lot.” 

“Hello again!” Jesse was suddenly there, grinning widely with hands full of Mardi Gras beads. “I’ve been tasked with handing these out. Here, cowboy, you need some bling.” Jesse hung a handful of them around his neck. “Oh, much better.” 

“Good lord and butter.” He rolled his eyes, but he’d play along. No one’d asked to see his titties to get them, and he could use them to decorate his room. 

Jesse hung a handful around Oliver’s neck too. “See? I was careful with the cowboy.” 

“I appreciate it. He’s delicate.” Dude, butter wouldn’t melt in Oliver’s mouth. 

“That’s me. Like blown glass and shit.” 

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I want to see you dressed up. Dress him up next time, Oliver. Don’t you think he’d be beautiful?” 

Oliver nodded. “Go easy, Jesse. He’s new-new.” 

“Oh.” Jesse nodded. “Don’t worry, cowboy. You won’t be new forever.” Jesse kissed his cheek and moved down the bar, hanging more necklaces on people as he went. 

No. No one was new forever. He was going to enjoy all the fun of this, new or not.