Alexander's Cucked Birthday

The restaurant glowed with soft amber light, casting a warm sheen over the deep mahogany tables and tufted emerald-green booths. Gold sconces lined the walls, flickering like candlelight against art deco wallpaper, rich patterns of black and cream that shimmered subtly as servers moved past. A small jazz trio played from a raised platform near the bar, their muted trumpet and low piano hum weaving together with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of silverware.

Alexander sat alone at a table near the tall windows, looking out at the dusky city street. His place setting was untouched: crisp white napkin folded just so, wine glass filled halfway with a deep red merlot, and a single flickering candle casting soft shadows on the linen tablecloth.

He wore a navy blazer over a charcoal shirt, the collar slightly open, and his slacks perfectly pressed. He looked calm, composed but the way his fingers lightly tapped the side of his wine glass gave away the tension brewing beneath.

It was his birthday. Oliver was supposed to be out of work twenty minutes ago. Traffic, maybe. Or something else.

Alexander glanced toward the restaurant's entrance for the third Olivere in as many minutes. Around him, couples laughed softly, waiters refilled glasses, and a birthday cake flickered at another table across the room. But here, in his quiet corner, the chair across from him remained empty.

Alexander shifted in his seat, trying to focus on the jazz melody drifting through the air, but his mind wanderedas it often did lately back to the therapist's office. Since that first explosive session, they'd been back four Oliveres. Four long, uncomfortable, revealing visits. Dr. Saunders had insisted on two solo sessions with Oliver, calling it "essential for personal clarity and growth within the relationship." Alexander had agreed, reluctantly. He wanted to believe it would help.

Judging by the smile Oliver had every time he came out of the doctor's office, it was helping... something.

But the truth was, those solo sessions gawed at him. Not because he didn't understand the reasoning, but because he didn't know what Oliver was saying behind closed doors. What secrets he was confessing. What desires might he be reaffirming?

Alexander traced the rim of his wine glass with one finger, watching the deep red liquid shimmer. Was it working? Were they improving? He couldn't tell anymore. There were good days, moments where Oliver seemed present, tender, even apologetic. And then there were othersflickers of distance in his eyes, distractions, comments that landed just a little too sharp. Sometimes Alexander caught him scrolling his phone late at night, angled just enough that he couldn't see the screen.

The hostess passed by with a polite smile, checking in silently. He nodded back, maintaining the illusion of calm. Inside, though, he felt the quiet press of disappointment settling into his chest. This dinner was supposed to be somethinga celebration, a gesture, a reminder of what they still had. But Oliver was late. And every minute that passed fed the same old ache.

Still, he stayed. Because part of him believedhopedthat Oliver would walk through that door, flowers in hand, some kind of magic in his eyes, and that tonight could still be salvaged.

He glanced again at the door.

Nothing.

Not yet.

Where was he?

~~~

Mike's hands moved to Oliver's shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, his fingers brushing against Oliver's skin. The man shivered, his body aching for more. Mike's mouth followed the path of his hand, his tongue licking and nibbling on Oliver's nipples, his teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh.

The married man hadn't expected to run into his ex from seven years prior on his way home from work.

He had stopped by the local grocery store to pick up flowers for Alexander's birthday.

When he eventually got home to change for the restaurant, it was with an attractive Latino man from his past and not a bouquet.

Tim moaned, his body writhing against Mike. He could feel his cock hardening, straining against his pants. Mike's hand moved to Oliver's belt, unbuckling it, his fingers brushing against Oliver's cock through the fabric.

"Is this for me?" Mike asked, his voice a low growl.

"Sure, your husband won't mind?" The man chuckled.

"What he doesn't know..." Oliver moaned, his hips thrusting against Mike's hand.

Mike unzipped Oliver's pants, his hand wrapping around the man's stiffen uncut cock, stroking it slowly. Oliver gasped, his body arching into the touch. Mike's mouth moved to Oliver's ear, his voice a low whisper.

"I want to taste you," he said, "It's been so long."

Oliver nodded, his body aching with need. Mike slipped his ex's pants down, his mouth moving to the pale cock, his tongue licking the length of it. Oliver moaned, his hands gripping Mike's dark hair, his body thrusting into Mike's mouth.

It had only been yesterday when he met with his therapist. It was a session alone, without Alexander and like usual, it went great.

His ass was a little sore, but he knew Mike wasn't nearly as large as Dr. Saunders.

Mike sucked on Oliver's cock, his head bobbing up and down, his tongue swirling around the head. His body tensed as Mike's mouth brought him closer and closer to the edge.

Oliver leaned back against his couch. He had forgotten how skilled Mike was with his tongue.

The Latin lover pulled back, his mouth moving to Oliver's inner thigh, his fingers wrapping around Oliver's cock, stroking it slowly. Oliver moaned, his body aching with need.

"Not yet," Mike said, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel inside you again."

Oliver nodded with a smile, his heart pounding in his chest.

He had left Mike when he found out the man had been cheating on him in college. How times had changed...

Oliver would have laughed at the irony, but he was in need of that dick. He wanted to feel his body wrapped around Mike's cock, to hear Mike's moans as his hole consumed him.

Mike stood up, his hands moving to his own pants, unbuttoning them, unzipping them. Oliver watched, his eyes locked on Mike's cock as it sprang free, hard and ready.

"Come here," Mike said, his voice a low command.

Oliver stood up, his body aching with need. Mike laid his ex down on the edge of the couch with a long, passionate kiss.

Oliver watched as Mike's fingers moved to his ass, pushing one finger inside, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing. He was still a little sensitive from yesterday's fuck session with the doctor.

The Latin man added another finger. Oliver tried not to make it known that his hole was a little worn out by moving his body with the rhythm of his hand.

Tim's cock throbbed, aching to be inside Mike. Mike caught his eye, a wicked smile on his face.

"You want this, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Oliver nodded, his body aching with need. Mike removed his fingers, his body moving to Mike's, his mouth capturing Mike's in a fiery kiss.

Tim could taste himself on Mike's tongue, the salty taste mingling with the sweetness of the wine they had drunk as soon as they arrived at his place. He could feel Mike's cock pressing against his own, the friction sending shivers down his spine.

Oliver broke the kiss, his mouth moving to Mike's ear. "I want you inside me," he whispered.

Mike nodded, his hands moving to Oliver's hips, guiding him onto his cock. Oliver positioned himself, his body slowly lowering onto Mike's cock, his muscles tensing for a moment before relaxing.

Mike moaned, his body aching with pleasure as Oliver's body enveloped his cock. The married man moved slowly at first, his body adjusting to the intrusion. Mike's hands moved to Oliver's hips, guiding him, helping him find his rhythm.

Oliver's body moved faster, his hips thrusting against Mike's, his cock slapping against his ex's stomach.

"Yeah, Mike, you fuck me so good! I miss this!"

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck!" The dark skin man moaned. He yelled, then, after a few more hard thrusts down, Oliver pulled off.

The relief was only for a moment before he shoved it back in. He knew he'd only get used to it again it he forced himself to!

Oliver let out a yelp as his ex's dick filled him again.

"Come on, baby, give me that pussy." He snarled. Mike pushed some more, and it finally slid further in. "Fuck, you're always so tight!" He whispered. "Fuck, I've missed your hole!"

"Mike!" That was all Oliver could manage to say. There was a time when he loved this man beneath him now. He even briefly thought he'd be married to him today.

Now he found himself cheating on his current husband with this old flame.

He slowly impaled himself on his ex's dick, and said, "Yeah, there it is! Give it up. I've been so desperate for dick these past few months."

Mike reached back and spanked Oliver. Hard. Thrusting up, the man kept pushing his dick deeper in. "There you go, baby! No one has ever ridden by dick like you!"

"Fuck, it feels so good!" Oliver yelled.

"Goddamn I've missed this ass!" He growled. Then he wrapped both hands around Oliver's hips, holding him in place.

Mike's dick rammed way up in his, reaching places he couldn't hit on his own.

The man through his head back as his ex worked his hole.

Mike could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing as Oliver's frame moved against his own

"Oh fuck, dude! I miss that pussy!" He shouted. His voice echoed off the walls of the house.

"Oh yeah?" Oliver's body tensed, his hips moving faster, his moans growing louder. The white man winced as his orgasm spread over his body.

Mike, smiling, watched Oliver's release as it spilled onto his skin.

Rope after rope of his semen shot over the man's stomach.

The sight and feel of Oliver's orgasm sent Mike over the edge, his body convulsing as his own orgasm washed over him. He could feel his cock pulsing inside his ex, could feel his own explosion spilling into Oliver's ass.

For a moment, the pair didn't move.

All that was heard was their panting.

Slowly, Oliver leaned forward, and as he did Mike's cock slipped out of his hole.

They collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Olive rolled off of Mike, as best he could, on the couch, his body curling against his ex's, his head resting on the man's chest.

"That was incredible, baby." Mike ran his hand through the man's hair as he rested on his chest. Mike looked down at Oliver, a soft smile on his face.

The husband was looking at a photograph of him and Alexander on their honeymoon in Greece, sitting on their mantle only a few feet away. The sudden realization that Alexander was still at the restaurant came over him like his orgasm only moments ago.

His body almost catapulted him to his feet.

He had to get ready! Get out the door!

Instead, he took a deep breath in.

This was a peaceful moment, and he didn't want to ruin it so quickly.

Alexander's birthday was all day, right?

He could wait.

~~~~

The door opened, and Alexander looked up from his untouched glass of wine.

Oliver walked in briskly, the collar of his button-down shirt slightly askew, cheeks tinged with the warmth of the evening airor maybe something else. His eyes scanned the restaurant until they landed on Alexander. He smiled, that familiar crooked smile, and made his way over.

Alexander stood to meet him.

"Happy birthday," Oliver said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, then the lips. It was warm but quickpolite. Familiar. Practiced.

"Thanks," Alexander replied, his voice tight with effort to remain neutral. He sat back down, watching Oliver do the same.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Oliver said, brushing a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to make you wait this long. I, uh... I ran into Mike."

Alexander blinked. "Mike?"

"Yeah. You remembermy ex from before you. I saw him at the store. We got to talking, just catching up on old times, you know? I completely lost track of time. I didn't even look at my phone until I was halfway here."

Alexander offered a small nod, but inside his thoughts churned. Forty-five minutes late. No text. No call. Just another encounter from the past pulling Oliver away from their present. Their dinner. His birthday.

"I didn't mean for it to be so long," Oliver continued, unfolding his napkin onto his lap. "It was just... surprising, seeing him. Brought up a lot."

"I'm sure it did," Alexander said quietly, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt.

He looked at Oliver across the candlelit table. Handsome as ever, animated from the unexpected reunion. And yet, Alexander couldn't help but feel like a placeholdersomeone waiting while Oliver wandered back through memory, or temptation, or something worse.

But he swallowed it. For now.

"So," Oliver said, changing the subject. "What's good here? I'm starving."

Alexander exhaled through his nose, trying to soften the storm gathering beneath his ribs. "The duck confit looks nice."

Before Oliver could respond to the duck, their waiter reappeared at the side of the tablepolished, precise, and attentive.

"Good evening again, sir," he said, addressing Alexander with a courteous nod. Then he turned to Oliver, smiling just a little too warmly. "And you must be joining uswelcome. I'm Carl. I'll be taking care of you tonight."

He was strikingearly twenties, lean but with the kind of natural build that suggested clean living and discipline. Blond hair styled neatly, his jaw sharp and clean-shaven, his pale blue eyes nearly silver under the restaurant's soft lighting. His crisp white shirt fit snugly around his chest and shoulders, the black slacks hugging his hips with tailored precision. He was the embodiment of the restaurant's upscale elegance.

Oliver's eyes lingered just a second too long. "Thanks," he said, offering a crooked smile and sitting up straighter in his seat. "Nice to meet you."

Alexander noticed.

Carl turned his attention to the menus, his voice smooth as glass. "Have you had a chance to look over the selections? Or would you like a few recommendations?"

Alexander closed his menu. "I'll have the duck confit, please. And another glass of the Côte de Rhône."

"Excellent choice." Carl smiled, scribbling on his pad before turning to Oliver. "And for you?"

Oliver glanced briefly at the menu againdistracted, clearly. "Uh... I'll do the filet. Medium rare. And the same wine."

"Very good," Carl said, jotting the order with professional flair. "I'll have those out as soon as possible."

He turned on his heel and walked away, his stride effortless.

Oliver's eyes followed him just for a moment, lips pressed together. Then he looked back at Alexander, who sat silently, fingers touching the base of his wine glass.

"What?" Oliver asked casually, sensing the tension.

Alexander gave a small shrug. "Nothing."

But it wasn't anything. Not after everything. Not after being stood up on his birthday, and certainly not when his husband couldn't help but undress the waiter with his eyes.

Oliver shifted in his seat. "He's just attractive. Doesn't mean anything."

Alexander didn't answer, but the silence said everything.

The candle flickered between them, unsteady and fragile.

Time began to pass as the pair waited for their food.

"So," Alexander said, breaking the comfortable silence, "how was work today?"

Oliver shrugged, taking a bite. "Busy, but not bad. We got a lot of orders in which kept me busy most of the day."

Their conversation drifted between projects, colleagues, and the odd little dramas that peppered their days. A soft buzz of restaurant life hummed around them.

Suddenly, a third waiter approached their tablea wine steward, elegantly dressed in a black vest and crisp white shirt. "Good evening, sir. May I top off your wine?"

Alexander smiled. "Yes, please."

Oliver noticed their original waiter, Carl, quietly slipping away from the table and heading toward the back of the restaurant.

Curious, Oliver excused himself. "I'll be right back," he murmured.

Without waiting for a reply, he rose and followed the path Carl had taken, weaving through tables and past the muted chatter.

To his surprise, Carl slipped into the staff bathroom.

Oliver paused at the doorway, hesitating only a moment before stepping inside.

The bathroom was immaculate, the scent of lavender soap lingering in the air. Carl was at the sink, washing his hands, eyes catching Oliver's in the mirror.

"Hey," Carl said, a spark of amusement in his voice.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Sorry, didn't mean to follow you in here."

Carl shrugged, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Curiosity's a dangerous thing."

Oliver glanced away, heart pounding a bit faster.

"Everything okay?" Carl asked, tilting his head.

Oliver hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Just... something about you caught my attention."

"Oh yeah?" Carl replied, his eyes glinting with interest.

Oliver took a deep breath, heart pounding, then stepped closer. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Carl's. The kiss was electric, tentative at first, then growing bolder as Carl responded eagerly.

Their arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressing close in the tight space. The kiss deepened, passionate and urgent, a sudden rush of heat between them.

For a moment, the bustling restaurant outside faded away, leaving only the two of them tangled in that stolen, intense moment.

Oliver's heart pounded as Carl's lips pressed firmly against his. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent and hungry with every passing second. Oliver's hands trembled slightly as they moved to Carl's crisp white shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons. One by one, the buttons slipped free, revealing more of the waiter's toned chest beneath.

Carl's breath hitched, a low murmur escaping him as he pulled back just enough to whisper, "We should move somewhere more private."

Without hesitation, Oliver nodded. They slipped quietly into one of the nearby bathroom stalls, closing the door behind them. The cramped space was suddenly charged with electricity, every inch of proximity intensifying the heat between them.

Carl reached out, peeling off his shirt, his muscles flexing as he did. Oliver's hands moved to unbutton his own shirt, fingers slick with anticipation. Layers fell away as the two men pressed closer, breath mingling, hands exploring, the world outside forgotten.

The soft click of the stall door echoed like a secret pact, the dim light casting shadows over flushed skin and eager faces as the moment spiraled toward something reckless and impossible to resist.

Oliver's breath hitched. "Damn, you're hot."

Carl leaned in, his lips brushing against Oliver's in a soft, teasing kiss. Oliver responded, his hands reaching up to tangle in Carl's hair, deepening the kiss. Their tongues met, exploring each other's mouths with an urgency that belied their earlier casual conversation.

Carl broke the kiss, his hands moving to the hem of Oliver's shirt. "Let's get you out of these clothes completely," he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

Oliver complied, lifting his arms to allow Carl to pull his shirt off. Carl's eyes roamed over his body, appreciation evident in their depths. "You have a beautiful body," he said, his voice husky.

Oliver felt a blush creep up his cheeks. "Thank you. But I think you're the one who's beautifully built."

Carl grinned, flexing his muscles slightly. "All this from carrying trays of food."

Oliver laughed, stepping closer as if the space wasn't cramped enough. He reached out, his hands tracing the lines of Carl's chest, his fingers brushing against his nipples. Carl groaned, his head falling back slightly.

"You like that?" Oliver asked, his voice a low murmur.

Carl nodded, his eyes closed. "Mm-hmm. More."