I'm not just your boy toy (old version)

1-First meeting

1-First meeting

Brandon's pov

Finally, I get to be here. I've been waiting all day for it to be open. I get in the bar and I instantly notice all the flashing lights, the loud music and people, not just any kind of people, guys, yep guys. As always they are all dancing closely to each other on the dance floor. They are all incredibly sexy but they aren't all my taste.

You see I'm not here for any reason. I go to my favourite gay bar because I like to have fun by finding random guys and screwing around with them. The rule is, never the same guy. In my lifetime I must have hooked up with hundreds of them but none of them were the same guy.

In the early years, there were girls but I quickly realized that guys are way more fun to shrew around with. Besides I have a preference for them, thus the reason why I come every single day to my good old favorite gay bar.

I've always managed to find a guy every single time. Sometimes I wonder why but it must be my charm.

What I particularly like about gay bars, is that guys in here aren't looking around for the serious thing, they are there for the fun stuff. Nobody has time to settle down. I ain't 30 years old. Some say I'm a dumbass to only shrew around with guys for a living but I don't care. As long as this makes me happy that's fine.

I have one-night stands with a new guy every single day but to make sure I don't do it with the same person again or they want to do more, I cut all contact with them. Poof, I'm gone. I can't have them try to contact me again or else I'll get attached to them. Thus, the reason for my string rules of no strings attached.

Even if it's that, I ain't no prostitute. Don't get me wrong but I don't make money for this. I'm just a free guy that wants to have fun that's all.

I walk inside the bar. I sit on the stool and notice one of the bartenders. That black-haired guy knows me. I've been here so many times, that he knows my every move. I even hooked up with him once. At first, he wanted to do it again but I reassured him that I only wanted to have fun no more. He gets it. Without saying anything he makes my favourite drink, my beloved Martini.

"Looking for a target?" How bold of him to say that.

"Yeah, did you notice any new guys?"

"Nah, the plain old ones. None is interesting, unless..you're into some fifty years old married man?"

"Yeah right. I'm not interested in that. They only want to do what they want. I want a really obsidian one."

"Oh? Really? Have a type now?"

"Oh, shut up Brent." He smirks at that.

"Getting under your skin?"

"Not one bit. Keep dreaming fool."

"Awh, fool? You don't have a better nickname than that?"

"You're annoying."

"Sure I am. I'm still your favourite."

"Don't you have to serve the other guys?" He checks in front of him and realizes that other guys are sitting on the bar stools waiting for the drink.

"Oh yeah, you're right about that. You cocky bastard."

"Say that again?"

"To who do I have the owner to serve a drink?"
And he has the nerve to ignore me like that.

He's actually the one that is a little cocky bastard. I ain't a cocky bastard. While Brent is busy flirting with the guys as always I check around the bar while sipping my Martini.