30-year-old BOYS

Chapter 1 - McLamb

Chapter 1 – McLamb

What does a man need to do to get laid around here huh!? Gah~! Ta ma de feihua! AARGH!!

~ Huang Lau

Huang is standing on one foot, and not because he has a disability, but because he has his other foot propped against the wall of a McDonalds, waiting in vain if Daniel Cheng is anything close to the handsome selfie he used as profile photo for his Grindr account.

All Huang can think about is grinding hard with a grind that will make Daniel grind like a freaking grinder. He can’t think about anything else because all the blood that’s supposed to be up north in his brain has gathered down south where his grinding mechanism throbs and waits.

He’s wearing a blue fitted tank top that hugs every sexy line and delicious curve of his manly torso. It cinches to a relaxed fit around his male-model waist where it meets dark snug jeans that hug the most sinful places. His jeans fit tight against an impressive bulge and two firm globes of ripe, juicy, succulent suppleness that any man will want to spank with a hard wooden paddle. And yes. A hard paddle made of wood. Because wood is really hard and sexy when it hits you … hard.

The sun is quite high coz it’s noon, so he’s a little sweaty but not icky in the least because he showered well and scrubbed every warm nook and delectable cranny.

Huang is not a farmer but he does sport a farmer’s tan, the kind of coloration that complements the smolder of his liquid brown eyes and gives his body nice lines that look slamming against the light.

The sweat that has darkened into a large patch on his torso actually makes him more attractive. The kind of attraction you feel towards a man who you know is clean but is quite the sweaty monkey. Makes you think of that electrician who comes to your home and is very attractive and all you want is for him to transfer the electricity he is working with to you through the inner workings of your body, titillating your every nerve till you explode with white sappy strings of sparks, which is another way of saying orgasm but let’s get real people, this narrative is PG13.

Huang’s stomach grumbles because he hasn’t eaten breakfast. He is waiting for Daniel to shell out cash and buy him lunch. That’s just how Lau is. He knows that he can always get away with his looks and have anyone buy food for him because that’s just how men treat him when they pick him up. They spend money on him. And who wouldn’t? He’s s*x on a wooden stick, waiting to be licked, hard. Like the ice pop you can’t get enough of on a hot summer’s day.

“Ta ma de feihua,” he mutters under his breath, exasperation thick in his sexy voice as he curses with the F word plus BS which, let’s get real people, this book will remain PG13, those words will not be making an appearance here, so chill the F out homies.

He pulls his phone from his jeans’ pocket and starts fingering his Grindr to poke Daniel Cheng, and he does this with a very fat thumb as well which is indicative of a very large mushroom head … down there. He is about to give up on Daniel, thinking that he’s a no-show, but how wrong Huang will be in just a few more seconds … three, two, and one.

A shiny black car parks in front of McDonalds at King’s Road. Huang does not give it mind however because he isn’t expecting one Daniel Cheng to come out of a very luxurious car. But then everything goes into slow motion like in the movies as one prim and handsome man gets ushered out of the Audi with his eyes covered in Tom Ford glasses, the cost of which can already feed hundreds of families starving somewhere in China which, let’s get real people, there are a billion Chinese people in the world and not all are stinking rich.

Daniel fists for his phone inside the pocket of his tailored pants, fingering it as well as he pulls up the photo of Huang Lau to see if it matches the alluring guy who’s smoldering under the hot sun with his one foot propped against the wall of McDonalds.

Daniel walks towards the hot man candy, heart slamming against his ribcage like an African drum beat. Huang swallows hard, and no, not the white hot fizz of creamy squirt that comes out of a man’s organ, but he swallows actual spit, and he does this because he realizes that the photo on Grindr that he is looking at is the rich, affluent man who is making his way in front of him in three, two, one… “Huang? Huang Lau?” Daniel asks, his left eyebrow arching a few centimeters upwards which gives him his signature ‘don’t F with me or I will F you’ condescending look.

Huang nods and his lips pucker a bit as he gives Daniel a look-see from his trendy polished hair down to his sparkling black shoes, the cost of which can already feed a million colonies of ants for eternity, “Yes. Yes I am. Nice to meet you, Daniel Cheng?” he is nervous because this is the first time he’s met someone as prestigious as Daniel Cheng.

Of course Huang doesn’t really know Daniel and the extent of his riches. That’s just how billionaires are. They don’t do f*******:, and even if they do they don’t update quite as often because they don’t have a reason to. They don’t do Twitter, and even if they do they have someone who will tweet for them their tweets because that’s what rich people do, hire someone to do ‘stuff’ for them. Simply put, Daniel Cheng doesn’t do social networking. Most rich people are private and being public is like having a gun to their heads. But he started breaking all the rules the minute he downloaded Grindr. This is a gamble he’s doing, but he’s not afraid. His bodyguards will drive a bullet down a person’s head if the said person approaches Daniel Cheng without the Daniel Cheng being the first one to approach the person.

“Yes. I’m Daniel Cheng. You are Huang Lau, right?” he asks again, raising his phone beside the face of the person he is talking to, “I think you look better in the photo,” he condescends but doesn’t really mean it.

This is the reason why Daniel never had a relationship. He is sometimes too mechanical with stuff that he forgets to treat humans as humans. But things are going to change. He can’t deny the way his smile lifts at the sight of Lau. He can’t deny the clenching of his stomach. He can’t deny his sinful desire.

But like any flower, Cheng is going to take his time, for to spread his legs early and receive another man’s sap is way too early and way too vulgar. He likes the sensual thrill of waiting before he will grind.

Oh Daniel. Somewhere deep in his stomach butterflies are fluttering. And that somewhere deep in his chest warmth is growing. Warm butterflies he feels for the man whose body he drinks like a tall glass of lemony iced tea, using a long straw that is perfect for sucking … hard, very hard.

Daniel also feels something else growing inside him … in his pants. He suddenly finds it difficult to breathe as his blood flow thickens like the heavy traffic Hong Kong has at night, “Shall we?” he asks again, cannot think straight anymore as he pockets his phone with a hand riddled with nerves.

Huang scratches his head then he talks, “Um, I’m hungry. Can we eat first before we…” he hesitates. When he grinds with someone on Grindr he doesn’t feel the way he feels right now. He just pokes anyone on the said mobile app, meets with the said person, then grinds with that said person like the world is going to end tomorrow, or probably tip over its axis since there are too many Chinese people on the planet and it’s getting heavier by the minute as more and more c****s make babies.

“Where do you want to eat?” Daniel asks, not the least bit appalled because he understands that the answer to hunger is food. It’s natural. There’s no need to think that Huang may be using him to buy him lunch. There’s no need to think that Huang may be a gold-digging delicious manho. There’s no need to think that Huang is hung because he most definitely is. The point is, Daniel doesn’t need to think about people’s ill intentions, because even if the guy ends up ripping him with a few hundred Hong Kong dollars it won’t really matter, coz he is rich and can buy Huang’s soul if he wants to.

“We can just eat here,” Huang answers, poking his thumb at the McDonalds behind him.

“Okay,” Daniel responds but stands still, waiting for Huang to make a formal gesture with an open hand because Daniel expects him to be the gentleman and invite him in, “Well?” he asks impatiently and Huang scrunches his eyebrows together and scratches his head, confused.

Something in Huang’s mind clicks and he pushes the doors open for Daniel who strides in like he owns the place.

There are five lines leading up to each of the service crews who are taking fast-food orders. Daniel doesn’t line to any of the five however and snaps his fingers at the manager. The manager quickly shuffles like an awkward teenager with an order slip and pen in hand, “Good morning Mr. Cheng. What’s your order?” the manager asks, his nerves getting the best of him as one Daniel Cheng looks at him like a misplaced piece of thread on his pricey Armani-tailored suit.

“I want a Big Mac. Use lamb meat. Cook it to perfection. Sear-sizzled but not overdone,” he gives his order, “And I want fries. But don’t fry them. Bake them. Then get me a bottle of water. Sterilized, oxygenated, and alkalinized,” he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he states his order. Huang stands lethargically by his side, his mouth hanging open as sweat beads around his forehead, “What’s your order?” Daniel asks him with a smile, which surprises even him because he doesn’t always smile. He realizes that there is something about Huang Lau that makes him feel like he isn’t thirty years old. Huang makes him feel like thirteen, back when he was starting to realize that he doesn’t like pussycats, but hotdogs … fat, long, meaty, juicy, thick, and hard hotdogs.

“Um…” Huang scratches his head again, grinding his teeth, thinking to himself ‘What have I gotten myself into? Will I even get laid with this man?’ … “Um … I don’t know what lamb tastes like. Is it okay if I have the same order?” he asks and Daniel smirks.

Daniel turns to the manager and arches an eyebrow, the gesture sending a powerful message that they should not F his order up. He then asks two of his bodyguards what they like to eat and both men answer saying they want two orders each of the Quarter Pounder.

The bodyguards stand in watch as Daniel and Huang sit in a booth, “So…” Huang starts, his throat closing up for some reason because despite the arrogance of one Daniel Cheng, he really finds him cute, “…are we going to my place, or your place?” he inquires and Daniel c***s his head to the side. He is not expecting that Grindr people are aggressive. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t really know the scene that well so he expects to be swept off his feet first, just like how it is in those American movies he watches with Chinese subtitles on HBO.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” Daniel whispers which makes Huang’s p***s limp inside his jeans. But strangely Huang is willing to ride this one out, knowing that the man sitting in front of him is a gold mine, “Maybe after we know more about each other?” Daniel communicates what he wants, his heart starting to skip again inside his chest. Despite the powerful image he is known to have, Daniel seems to crumble in the presence of one hot Huang Lau.

“Daniel. Are you a VIP or something?” he asks and Cheng curves his leg over the other, pushing in his erection which for some reason is not cooperating with him at the moment.

“Maybe,” Daniel shrugs as the manager approaches them, “What?” Daniel asks and the manager stiffens with a sharp inhale.

“Mr. Cheng,” the manager bows, “I apologize. We did not expect your arrival today. Is there anything else I can do to serve you while you wait for your order?” the manager asks and Daniel gives it thought and when nothing comes to mind he shoos the manager with a smile and the dismissive wave of his hand.

“You are VIP,” Huang’s eyes widen like saucers, “Just who exactly are you?” he is dying to know who Daniel is.

“This is one of my McDonalds,” he replies as the McLambs gets served with baked fries, “Shall we eat?” he invites.

Huang nods and drives three stems of baked fries in his mouth, munching as he pokes his sear-sizzled McLamb. For the first time he forgets about grinding tonight, because sitting in front of him is no small fry.