(Taken from the story Hope Is Good)

...Standing on his little square of the fire escape in the latter part of sunset, John looked down and realized a familiar figure stood in the alley below him. Into the phone and the lull of conversation with his best friend Pete, he said, “He’s down there again.”

“Who is?” Pete sounded a little bored, which he had been sounding more and more lately. With the absence of Xavier in John’s life, there was much less drama to discuss. Pete did love a good scandal.

“That guy with the blue ball cap. He’s down there in the alley again.”

“And?”

“I think he’s a hustler,” he whispered and backed up in the hope the man couldn’t see him.

Pete snorted. “Wave him up.”

“I am not hiring a prostitute!” he whispered harshly.

Pete sighed. “You need to do something.”

“Celibacy won’t kill you.”

It had been three months since his break-up with Xavier and he hadn’t gotten lucky once in all that time, but… So what? It took time to recover after a cheating and verbally abusive boyfriend finally left his life. He felt like he was doing really well, even if he was getting a touch of carpal tunnel from a certain repetitive motion.

“It’s making you one hell of a cranky bitch, sweetheart.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, quit your yelling.”

“I’m—” The wind went right out of his sails and he slumped against the building with a glance heavenward. “Oh, fuck you.”

Pete chuckled naughtily. “We tried that years ago and it—”

Movement in the alley drew John’s gaze and he got the shock of his life. “Oh my God!”

“Well, we did and—”

“No. No, not you.” He gulped and blinked, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man standing below him in the alleyway because… “He just opened his pants,” he whispered into the phone.

He should stop looking. He should go inside. But…

“Seriously?” Of course, now Pete sounded fascinated.

“He opened his pants and this huge, uncut boner popped out.” It was gorgeous, and the guy knew it, too. He grinned up at John, thrusting his hips out…like there could be some way John might miss the tower of flesh between his legs. “Jesus, he’s got to be eight, nine inches!”

“And you’re still talking to me…why?”

“I’m not going to— Oh God.”

“What? What’s he doing? Tell me!”

“He’s… He’s looking up here and… He’s jacking it slowly. It’s all pale and…” Pale and long with a sheath of foreskin sliding up and down, up and down. John licked his lips every time he got a peek at the bell-shaped, light pink head. Sweet heaven. He wanted to adjust himself in his jeans, but it would look like he approved or…something and he probably shouldn’t encourage the guy. He looked vaguely familiar, which made John smile before he covered his mouth because was he recognizing face or cock? Good grief.

Pete sort of growled in his ear. “If you don’t holler your apartment number at him in the next few seconds before buzzing him in, I’m coming over there and escorting him to your door.”

John shivered and kept staring. It was honestly a toss-up as to which paralyzed him more, the erection or the fact the man touched himself while he started up at John. While John stared back at him. Watching…

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Yes, you can.”

“But—”

“No buts! Well, except yours. Do it now. I want to hear it happen.”

“Oh, shit. Oh Jesus.” He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. “Three-eighteen!”