Add to cart

Eight Ball

By Jack Greene


When Connor and Akira meet, it's lust at first sight.

They couldn't be more different: Connor is white trash, and Akira comes from a wealthy Japanese family that has big plans for him. But their attraction knows no boundaries.

Sparks fly over a pool table, but is it real or just a game?



Connor looked up from the pool table as the group of strangers entered. They certainly weren’t the usual crowd that frequented the bar—these teenagers stuck out like a sore thumb. Not because they were Japanese; a diverse ethnic crowd occupied this pool hall. It was their clothes: Armani, Versace, designer all the way.

Connor let his gaze wander appreciatively. The guy in front was incredible with his messy brown hair, and Connor was close enough to see the man had deep blue eyes. He’d always thought that Asians had brown eyes, but this guy’s eyes were a cobalt blue that looked even more stunning contrasted with his exotic features. He looked young, but he would have to be eighteen to get in this place. His face was almost femininely pretty, but there was nothing soft about his body. He wore black dress pants that hugged his slim hips and a khaki, silk tank top. A black leather jacket hung casually over one shoulder as the man surveyed his surroundings, biceps bulging perfectly in Connor’s opinion. He was with three other boys. It looked like they were arguing—the other boys didn’t seem to like his idea of where they were slumming.

As Connor observed the hot guy, he continued to sink his shots perfectly, cleaning out the table while his hapless opponent stood by. As Connor called the eight ball, lining up his shot, he saw the group walking toward his table, watching the game. Connor sank the shot effortlessly, straightening up and offering a handshake to his opponent, who shook his hand and grudgingly handed over a twenty dollar bill. Connor accepted it, shoving it in his pocket with the rest of the money he had won tonight. With any luck, he’d be able to pay the rent this month. Unfortunately, it was last month’s rent.

He sighed. No one wanted to hire a nineteen-year-old, long-haired pool player. He dropped out of school at sixteen when his stepfather had gone to jail for beating up his mother. If he hadn’t dropped out, Child Protective Services would have been all over him. Instead he disappeared and supported himself with various odd jobs and schemes. What he really wanted to do was sing in a band. He had a good voice, but he didn’t have a band or equipment, and couldn’t figure out how to make any money doing it when no one would even listen to him or give him a chance.

Hustling pool seemed to work for him lately. It was better than some alternatives—though he’d had plenty of offers, he hadn’t stooped low enough to sell his body. Apparently his slender frame and elfin features were a turn-on for quite a few older guys. Even though he did prefer men, he certainly didn’t want some fifty-year-old pervert drooling all over him. Connor grabbed the chalk, preparing his cue for another game, and looked at the gorgeous Japanese boy who now approached him.

Connor watched as one of his friends grabbed his arm, looking pissed. The man shook it off and said something sharply to his friends, who shrugged and walked away. Then he resumed his journey, stopping just in front of Connor.

Connor regarded the man up close. Even hotter.

The other man broke the silence. “You play well. Would you like to try me?”

Connor smiled. Though the boy had certainly not meant it the way it sounded, he had just handed him an incredible opening. Connor was a born flirt, and he found he could usually put the other player off his game with suggestive remarks.

Resting his cue against the table, Connor put his hands on his hips and looked challengingly at the other boy. “Aren’t you afraid I’m too much for you, handsome?”

The boy’s incredible eyes widened, but he recovered and shot back, “Oh, I can handle you,” as he leaned against the table and crossed his arms. That showed off his muscles and Connor feasted his eyes. “The question is, can you take what I’ve got?”

Connor looked appraisingly at him. Could he be so lucky that the handsome boy swung the same way he did? “Only one way to find out,” he answered, sticking his hand out. “I’m Connor. Play me.”

The boy took Connor’s hand and shook it briefly before pulling on the hand, bringing him closer. He looked deep into Connor’s eyes. “I’m Akira, and I’d love to play with you.”

Connor let the other boy pull him until they were inches apart. He was intoxicated by the Japanese boy’s presence, and wanted to be swept off his feet. He looked back, challenging Akira. “What if I’m not that kind of boy, Akira?”

Akira smirked. “There’s a first time for everything, Connor.” He brought Connor’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it, never breaking eye contact with the other boy.