Chapter 5: The Pleasure Emporium
The two men stand before the shop. Before they dare enter.
The neon sign buzzed, casting a pink and blue glow across their faces. PLEASURE EMPORIUM. The window display was a chaotic museum of silicone and leather, a rainbow of shapes and sizes that made Brick’s throat go dry.
“Whoa,” he breathed, his huge shoulder bumping against Mac’s. “They’ve got… a lot.”
Mac shoved his hands deep into his bomber jacket pockets. The cool evening air did nothing to calm the heat prickling up his neck. He’d fought house fires with less anxiety. “It’s just a store. Like a… a hardware store. For… personal hardware.”
Brick grinned, that dopey, genuine smile that made his blue eyes crinkle. “Dude, you see that purple one? It’s got, like, swirls.”
“I see it.”
“Looks kinda fun.”
Mac let out a shaky laugh. “You’re impossible.” He glanced at his friend, at the sheer, guileless curiosity on his face. This was the same guy who’d gasped in wonder the first time he’d successfully bottomed for him last week, who’d whispered ‘that’s so cool’ as Mac had ridden him. His nerves loosened a fraction. It was just them. It was always just them. “You ready to go in or you wanna window-shop all night?”
“I’m ready.” Brick puffed out his chest, the movement stretching his tight Henley. “Lead the way, captain.”
The bell above the door jingled with obscene cheerfulness.
Inside, the world narrowed and intensified. The air was warm, thick with the cloying scent of synthetic strawberries, leather, and something cleanly chemical. Racks of lingerie in impossible sizes lined one wall. The other was a towering, gleaming display of glass and acrylic toys, lit from below like sacred relics. Slow, pulsing electronic music thrummed from hidden speakers.
Brick stopped dead just past the threshold, his head swiveling. “Holy shit.”
Mac’s protective instincts, already on high alert, flared. He moved closer, his shoulder now firmly pressing against Brick’s arm, a point of solid contact. “Stay close.”
“Boys,” a smooth voice called out.
From behind a counter draped in black velvet, a man unfolded himself. He was tall, though not as tall as Brick, with a wrestler’s build wrapped in a tight black t-shirt. A vibrant sleeve of red-haired tattoos swirled down one arm. His smile was easy, appreciative, his eyes scanning them with a practiced, candid hunger. “Welcome. First time?”
Mac felt Brick tense with a jolt of excitement. “Is it that obvious?” Brick asked, his voice too loud in the hushed space.
“Only to a trained professional,” the man said, leaning against the counter. His name tag read ‘Vince’. “The deer-in-headlights look is classic. Also, you’re both built like Greco-Roman statues, and you’re blushing.” This last part was directed at Mac, whose ears were indeed burning. “So. What can I help the dynamic duo find today?”
Mac found his voice, rough. “Lube. The good stuff. And… other things.”
“Other things,” Vince repeated, his smile widening. He pushed off the counter and gestured for them to follow. “My specialty. Right this way.”
He led them past aisles labeled with wicked euphemisms. Brick’s head was on a constant swivel, his jaw slightly slack. He pointed at a shelf of leather harnesses. “Mac, look. That’s like… for climbing. But for sex.”
“Yeah, buddy. For sex.”
Vince chuckled, a low, warm sound. “You’re not wrong. It’s all about support and access.” He stopped before a wall of silicone dildos, arranged by size and color. It was an intimidating spectrum. “Now. Lube is over there. But let’s start with the fun part. Any idea what you’re looking for? Beginner? Advanced? Travel size?”
Brick reached out, his massive, veined hand hovering over a particularly thick, veined, flesh-colored model. He pulled it from its peg with surprising reverence. “This one’s… substantial.”
Vince sidled up beside him, close enough for Mac to smell his cedarwood cologne. “Good eye. That’s our ‘Legend’ model. Nine inches, realistic suction base. Popular choice.” He glanced from the toy in Brick’s hand to Brick himself, his gaze dragging down the trainer’s broad chest and lingering for a half-second on the front of his gym shorts. “Actually, shit, that’s about my size. Want to compare?”
The words hung in the scented air. Innocent, flirtatious, dangerous.
A low sound, almost a growl, vibrated in Mac’s chest. He didn’t think. He just moved. In two steps he was wedged physically between Brick and Vince, his back to the counter. He didn’t touch Vince, but his presence was a wall. He reached back, his hand finding the solid warmth of Brick’s waist, pulling him closer. His hazel eyes, usually warm, had turned flinty.
“He’s with me,” Mac said, his voice flat, leaving no room for interpretation. It was the same tone he used on a chaotic scene, establishing control.
Vince held up his hands, palms out, his smile never fading. If anything, it deepened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “No worries, gorgeous. Totally get it. Just admiring the view.” His eyes flicked over both of them now, a knowing glint in them. “Honestly, you two are a matched set. It’s actually kind of beautiful. Don’t see a pair like you every day.”
The tension bled from Mac’s shoulders, replaced by a confusing flush of pride. Brick, behind him, leaned his chin on Mac’s shoulder, the dildo still clutched in his fist. “He’s my best friend,” Brick said, as if that explained everything. To him, it did.
“Clearly,” Vince said, his demeanor shifting into pure, professional helpfulness. “Okay. Let’s get you sorted properly.” He became a efficient guide, leading them to the high-end, body-safe lubricants. “This one. Water-based, hybrid. Doesn’t get sticky.” He handed Mac a large bottle. Then, to a slightly embarrassed-looking Brick, he quietly offered a compact douching kit. “For prep. Makes everything cleaner, less stressful.”
Brick took it like a sacred text, nodding seriously. “Makes sense. Like… wiping down the equipment after a workout.”
“Exactly like that,” Vince said, biting his lip to keep from laughing.
Finally, he held up a small, glossy black box. “And this… is the finisher. A vibrating plug. High-grade silicone, remote control. Good for… warming up. Or just having fun while you’re making dinner.” He winked at Mac, who managed a tight, grateful smile.
He winked at Mac, who managed a tight, grateful smile.
Vince gathered their chosen items and led them back to the counter, the black velvet looking like a stage. As he rang up the lube and the plug, his posture softened, a genuine, almost wistful look crossing his features as he watched Brick examine a display of cock rings with academic interest.
“Seeing you two,” Vince said, his voice lower now, conversational. “It does something. Makes me wanna dig out my phone.” He scanned the lube bottle with a soft beep. “My ex, fucking hell. A fellow gym stud, vers bottom, could take a pounding like a champion.” He shook his head, a real laugh escaping him. “Had an ass on him that just wouldn’t quit. We’d go at it for hours. Makes me miss the mess of it, you know?”
The confession hung in the air, personal and unvarnished.
Mac’s defensiveness dissolved, replaced by a sudden, startling kinship. This wasn’t a come-on. It was a veteran sharing war stories. Brick, however, looked up, his blue eyes wide with empathetic concern. “Did you guys break up ’cause of… symmetry issues?”
Vince barked a laugh, loud and sudden. “No, man. Nothing that simple. Life stuff. Schedules.” He slid the items into a discrete black bag. “But chemistry like that? Don’t overthink it. Just don’t break it.” He handed the bag to Mac, their fingers brushing. “That’ll be eighty-seven fifty. And my unsolicited advice is free.”
Mac pulled out his wallet, the transaction a silent, swift moment. He passed over the cash. “Thanks. For the help.”
“Anytime.” Vince took the money, his gaze settling on Brick, then back to Mac. “Seriously. You two have a good night. Put that gear to use.”
The neon glow outside seemed brighter, more electric, as they pushed through the door and back into the cool evening. The city sounds rushed back in—cars, distant sirens, the hum of a streetlight. Mac carried the bag, its weight insignificant but its contents monumental.
Brick inhaled the night air like he’d been holding his breath. “He was nice.”
“He was something.” Mac started walking, their steps falling into sync on the pavement. The image of Vince’s ex, some anonymous, capable man, flickered in his mind. It made their own clumsy, electric experimentation feel less like a bizarre secret and more like a part of something broader, a world he was just beginning to perceive.
“Hours, though,” Brick murmured, his voice thoughtful. He bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “You think we could… you know. Go for hours?”
Mac felt a jolt of heat straight to his groin. The memory of last week—Brick beneath him, trembling, those huge hands gripping his hips—flooded back. “My legs cramped after forty-five minutes, dude.”
“We can build up to it,” Brick said, with the earnest determination of a man discussing a new deadlift program. “Conditioning. We need a training plan.”
Mac couldn’t help it. He laughed, the sound rough and full in his chest, the last of the shop’s tension melting away. He slung his arm around Brick’s broad shoulders, pulling him close as they walked. The black bag swung between them. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll make a plan.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a block, the weight of the unspoken future settling between them. Brick’s body was warm and solid against his side.
“Hey, Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad I’m with you.” Brick said it simply, a statement of fact, looking straight ahead.
Mac’s throat tightened. He just squeezed Brick’s shoulder, his fingers pressing into the dense muscle, and didn’t let go. The apartment was only ten minutes away. The night stretched before them, vast and full of potential, every step home charged with a slow, gathering current.