It was the type of rain that gradually soaked through every layer of clothing, making him cold, damp and miserable. It wasn’t a downpour where he felt he needed to run full tilt for cover, more a continuous heavy mist that clung to his hair and his eyebrows, saturating his jeans and T-shirt, leaving a damp sheen on his leather flight jacket. The street was deserted, everyone else apparently with the sense to remain indoors or seek shelter. Looking around, he saw the lights of a bar and headed across the street.
The bar was dimly lit and fairly busy, although not overcrowded. He found an empty stool without any trouble and ordered a Scotch to warm himself up. As he waited for his drink, he looked around idly. There were several couples and foursomes in the booths, a few guys at the bar, and a large group around the pool table. His drink appeared and he sipped gratefully at the warming liquor, his eyes still on the group playing pool. They were enjoying the game, not too loud or too boisterous, just egging the opponents on.
“C’mon, Mike, you can make that with your eyes closed!” someone catcalled at the man preparing to take his shot. He watched as the red ball sank in the pocket nearest him and the player strolled around the table, idly chalking his cue. Tall, mid-twenties, longish dark blond hair brushing his collar; slim, fairly well built with good biceps showing below the short sleeves of his black T-shirt.
“’Scuse me,” he said as he squeezed past, and he obligingly moved out of the way of his shot. The man bent over his cue, revealing a cute ass in tight black jeans, and he felt his mouth go dry. Another careful sip of his drink, then he raised his eyes just as ‘Mike’ straightened up after his shot. Amazing blue eyes met his, followed by the glimpse of a smile.
“Thanks,” he said as he squeezed past again.
“For letting me take the shot.”
“Sure, no problem.” Mike leant in towards him and followed up in a soft whisper,
“And for not grabbing my ass.” He choked on his drink and watched him stroll back towards his friends and his final shot, potting the black with ease. The game over, he handed his cue to someone and wandered back to perch on the stool next to him. He held out his hand and said,
“Hi, I’m Michael.”
“Rick.” He took the hand and gave it a quick, firm shake.
“Like another?” Mike asked, tilting his head to the almost empty glass in Rick’s hand.
“I’ll get it -,” he started to say, but Mike had already beckoned the bartender and ordered himself a cognac and another Scotch for Rick.
“Thanks,” Rick muttered when the full glass appeared.
“You’re welcome. New in town, hm? I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“Yeah, just arrived actually. Thought I’d get my bearings, but I didn’t count on the rain.”
“More of a heavy mist, but still makes you cold and wet. Whereabouts are you staying?”
“Regency Motel – you ask a lot of questions.”
“Yeah, I do when I’m interested in something – or someone. You don’t seem to have a problem answering them.”
“Not so far, but I’ll stop if I don’t like the questions.”
“Fair enough!” Michael laughed, the smile lighting his face and making those amazing blue eyes sparkle. Rick could not fail to respond, his lips quirking into a small smile which reached and softened his eyes.
“So what brings you here, Rick, business – or pleasure?” There was a husky note to his voice as he ended the question and Rick’s eyes narrowed. Was this guy coming on to him?
Michael watched Rick watch him. The stranger was very self-contained but not unfriendly. Good-looking guy, tall, slim and muscular, very fit from the look of him, probably late thirties, early forties. Deep brown eyes and prematurely silver grey hair, a handsome, lived-in face; seen his share of grief from the lines etched around his eyes. Michael’s interest was definitely piqued. The silence dragged out between them and he finally said,
“I guess that was a question you didn’t like?”
“What? No, that’s okay, thinking of something else. I’m here to look up an old acquaintance, so you could call it pleasure, I guess.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Well, it may turn into business – I can’t say for sure – but, if it doesn’t, it will at least be a pleasure to see an old buddy.”
“Ah, I get it. Would I know your friend?”
“Is that a less than subtle way of asking for his name?” Mike laughed again.
“Yeah, I guess – although, it IS possible I would know him, depending on what he – um –does?” Rick was not too sure about this final comment. Michael appeared to be looking for a certain response, not just a name, and the innocent seeming inquiry had undertones, which Rick could not interpret. He drained his drink and set the empty glass down with a snap.
“Thanks for the drink,” he said and slid off the stool, heading for the door.
“You’re welcome, Rick. Catch you next time, hm?”
* * * * * * * *
Rick walked briskly back to the motel, cursing that he had left his truck parked by his room. He was going to get soaked again and he still had several blocks to go. A grey Mercedes slid past him and he saw the brake lights come on up ahead. He kept his head down and hurried on.
“Hey! Need a lift?” Rick glanced up and saw Michael through the open window. He hesitated – what was this guy after?
“C’mon, you’ll get soaked, Rick. The Regency’s on my way home.”
“Thanks,” Rick replied gruffly, and slid into the passenger seat. His damp clothes made the windows mist over almost immediately and Mike said,
“We’ll just stay put a second while the windshield clears, okay?” Rick grunted his assent and relaxed into the comfortable car. Some classical music was drifting from the stereo system, soft piano, and Rick said,
“What is that? I recognise it but can’t think of the name.”
“’La fille aux cheveux du lin’, Debussy ,” Mike answered, the French slipping lightly from his tongue. “So, you like classical music, Rick?”
“Opera, mainly. Michael, what is it with you and the questions? I don’t really mind answering them, they all seem pretty innocent, but I just get the feeling there’s something else going on.”
Michael concentrated on rejoining the traffic before answering Rick’s bewilderment.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean to pry or make you feel uncomfortable. I like meeting new people and I don’t get the opportunity too often. I really am sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“That’s okay,” Rick said, studying his companion’s profile as he concentrated on driving in the difficult conditions. “Mind if I ask a few questions of my own?”
“Same rules apply,” Mike said with a smile.
“Okay. So, Michael, what do you do?”
“I’m a lecturer at the local college,” Mike said easily. “Modern languages.”
“Ah, that explains the flawless French,” Rick commented, smiling as Mike laughed, a sort of huffing snort of a laugh that Rick found rather attractive.
“And you’re a pool shark at night?” Rick queried.
“Ah, my deep dark secret is out,” Michael responded. “Are you in town long?” he asked, then grinned. “Oops, sorry, your turn for questions!”
“That’s right,” Rick said easily, finding himself warming to this strange young man. “But, as a concession, no, not long.”
“Shame,” Michael sighed almost to himself, Rick not certain he heard him correctly but letting it go.
“Still, if my meeting goes well, I could be back.” Rick wasn’t really sure why he added that, possibly because Michael looked a little downcast. He brightened at Rick’s words and Rick felt a small glow of pleasure that he had smoothed the frown from Michael’s face. What the hell? What was going on here? Rick frowned in turn, eyeing Michael speculatively.
“What?” Michael said, catching the frown.
“Mmm? Oh, nothing – just thinking.”
Michael flicked the indicator and made the turn into the motel car park.
“Which room?” he asked and Rick snapped his head round suspiciously, meeting the calm blue gaze. He felt a slight blush warm his cheeks as he said,
“Er - fifteen, over there. That’s my pickup parked outside.” Damn, but his mind was on other things!
Michael drew alongside the truck and killed the engine, turning to face Rick.
“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Just, you seem kinda - er – jumpy.”
“Everything’s fine,” Rick said, undoing his seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.” He opened the car door, then froze as Michael’s hand rested lightly on his arm.
“Why don’t you come by the bar tomorrow night?” he asked softly. “You can buy me that drink and let me beat you at pool.”
“Let you beat me – is that a challenge?” Rick was annoyed and amused at the same time.
“If you like.”
“Maybe – I’ll see how the meeting goes.”
“Okay, it’s a date!” Michael released his arm and started the engine. As he drove off, Rick watched the car disappear. ‘It’s a date’? That sounded like teenagers planning to make out – what was Michael up to? Or was he reading too much into an innocent comment? Rick was unsettled by Michael. His questions and his ‘come hither’ manner left him off balance and, he had to admit, intrigued.
* * * * * * * *
Rick sat at the bar nursing his drink. There were only a few people around; Michael was noticeably absent. Glancing at his watch, Rick finished his drink and walked out to his truck. He’d waited over an hour and did not intend to waste any more time. He had just turned the corner when the grey Mercedes pulled in and Michael hurried into the bar. His eyes scanned the room then he wandered over and took a stool at the counter.
“Hi, Pete,” he said as the barman placed a cognac in front of him.
“Hi, Mike - you just missed him,” Pete said.
“The silver fox – he waited for you for an hour, then gave up.”
“The silver fox – good nickname. Thanks, Pete.” Mike took his drink and wandered over to the pool table. There was no-one playing and he idly rolled the cue ball over the green surface.
‘The silver fox’ he mused, watching the white ball as it bounced against the cushion and came back to him. So he’d come and – damnit – he’d missed him by seconds, held up by a last minute faculty meeting, which had bored him rigid. He rolled the ball again, debating whether to go to the Regency, but what could he say. Turning up on the doorstep would prove he was hunting Rick down. He smiled, hunting the silver fox, indeed. Should he ride to hounds, booted and spurred, or should he set a more subtle trap? He couldn’t call; he didn’t know Rick’s last name. So he either went to the motel or forgot all about it, about him.
He finished his drink and headed for his car. Rick could only throw him out. He wanted to see him again, get to know him better. And he might be leaving soon if his meeting hadn’t gone well. Decision made, he drove off towards the motel, praying the truck would be parked outside room fifteen.
The truck was there and Mike parked alongside, cutting the engine and looking steadily at the door. There was a light on, so Rick was obviously there.
“C’mon, Mike, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he said aloud, and got out of the car.
Rick was NOT in a good mood. Stood up, he thought savagely, as he started to strip to take a shower. His boots and socks were in the corner where he had tossed them and he had just thrown his shirt on the bed when a car drew up outside. He heard the car door slam, the beep of the electronic lock, and knew instinctively that it was Michael. His heart beat a little faster as he waited for a knock. And waited. Several minutes passed and Rick impatiently opened the door, coming face to face with Michael, who stepped back, startled. A dull red flushed his cheeks as he registered Rick’s bare chest and he dropped his eyes from Rick’s questioning gaze.
“Um – hi!” he said. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Rick waited silently but Michael said nothing else, just gazed at his shoes. As the silence lengthened, Michael panicked.
“Sorry,” he muttered, “this was a really stupid idea! I’ll go, I’m sorry.” He turned to leave and Rick put a hand on his shoulder briefly to stop him.
“Might as well come in,” he said laconically. “Since you’re here already.” He stepped back to allow Mike to enter. He hesitated, cursing himself for getting into this situation. Rick watched him, amusement in his dark eyes. Mike’s emotions showed clearly in his face. He turned away into the room, leaving the door open. Mike was now faced with a choice, leave and feel like a total idiot, or enter the room and face the music. He stepped inside and closed the door, staying right there with his back to the door.
“I don’t bite,” Rick said sourly and held up a bottle of Scotch. “Drink?”
“Yes –er - please,” Michael said, not moving.
“For God’s sake come in and sit down,” Rick said irritably, waving at the single armchair. He poured Michael a drink and stood waiting until he had taken a seat. Rick sat on the only other available surface, the bed, and looked at him speculatively.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked, his voice gentling, all signs of irritation absent from his tone. Mike looked up through his eyelashes and cringed as he felt himself blush, again.
The effect on Rick was electrifying. Those incredible blue eyes could soften the hardest of hearts, he thought, and the younger man’s obvious discomfort melted something within him. He had been angry that Mike wasn’t at the bar, had been embarrassed at himself for being angry and had determined to forget about this stranger who had affected him so oddly. But the look of confusion and – yes - despair directed from under those long lashes made him forget those feelings. Instead, he felt an urge to protect Michael. But protect him from what? Himself, a little voice told him. In no way could he hurt this boy – even if he was older than he looked.
Mike remained silent, his eyes on his glass, inwardly cursing himself that he was behaving like an idiot. He ventured another look upwards, his eyes meeting Rick’s dark brown ones and the look in that gaze stopped the breath in his lungs. They were almost tender. His hands shook and a little of the drink spilled onto his fingers.
“Sorry,” he whispered, “clumsy . . .”
“You’re nervous,” Rick said softly. He got up and walked over to Mike, taking the slippery glass from his trembling fingers. He flinched at his touch and Rick stopped, his fingers still touching Mike’s. He looked down at the blond head for a few seconds, then made a decision.
“Maybe, if I just do this . . .” Rick said and, bending his head, lightly brushed his lips across the trembling fingers, tasting the Scotch. Expecting him to flinch away even further, Rick was taken by surprise when Mike threw his arms around his neck and with a half sob, half laugh, drew him into a passionate embrace. Their tongues clashed and slipped against each other, eliciting a needy moan from Mike and a muffled ‘mmmph!’ from Rick.
When they finally came up for air, Mike let Rick go and waited for the inevitable rejection. Instead, unbelievably, he felt Rick’s hand stroking his hair.
“Want to tell me about it now?” Rick repeated his earlier question.
“Are – are you okay with this?” Michael asked wonderingly, still trembling, nervous as hell.
“Truthfully?” Mike nodded.
“I’m not sure. We’ve only just met and know nothing about each other. I’m not sure about any of this.”
“That’s fair,” Michael said. “At least you’re not freaking out that I kissed you.”
“Yeah – and that surprises me. Still, I did make the first move, didn’t I?” Rick’s tone was light, quizzical, and Mike felt himself relax a little. The silver fox was not going to savage him after all. He had started the hunt but now, it seemed, the fox had gone to earth and managed to trap him in the process. He managed a tentative smile and looked up at Rick.
“So, do we get to know each other better?” he asked.
“Like tell each other our life stories? That could take a very long time, at least for me, and unfortunately I only have two more days.”
“Well, would you like to get to know each other better?” Mike asked, batting his long eyelashes. Rick grinned, unable to resist.
"I was just about to take a shower," he said, indicating his state of undress.
"Okay." He headed into the bathroom and Mike followed him. Rick looked at him questioningly
“I thought we could - um – take one together.” Rick shrugged and turned on the water.
They undressed without looking at each other, avoiding eye contact but surreptitiously glancing at each other’s bodies as they were revealed. Stepping into the shower they had no option but to stand close together, skin colliding in unusual combinations. Mike took the soap and a washcloth and lathered it profusely, desperate to feel Rick's body under his touch.
“Like me to scrub your back?” he said with a smile.
"Absolutely." Rick made to turn his back, but Mike ran his soapy hands across Rick's chest, delighting in the feel of the other man's body. Sliding the washcloth through his silvery chest hair, Mike's eyes focused on Rick's nipples. Abandoning the washcloth, he made circular movements, feeling the small points harden beneath his palms.
Rick closed his eyes and gave himself up to the sensations created by Michael’s touch. The whole scenario had a dream-like quality, but there was a rightness about it that stopped him from ‘freaking’ as Michael would say. The warm water was soothing and he felt himself relax under the gentle massage of Mike’s hands. Mike continued to massage his chest, alternating between the washcloth and his bare hands, and Rick couldn't believe how good it felt.
Opening his eyes, he watched as Mike ran the tip of his tongue slowly over his full lower lip, and Rick immediately wanted to feel those lips on his skin.
Their eyes met and Rick's flitted between the pouting, wet mouth and those amazing eyes, now dreamy and unfocussed as Mike gave in to the pleasure of touching him. Bending his head, Rick sought that tempting mouth, sucking slowly on the lower lip until a rush of desire flashed between them and Rick pulled him close.
The effect of their wet bodies touching dispelled any lingering doubt. They kissed hungrily, Rick thrusting his tongue deep into Mike’s mouth, sucking and demanding, then gentling as his hands settled on either side of his head, holding him still while he licked and nipped at those kiss swollen lips. Finally they fell away from each other, gasping for breath. They looked at each other, reaching out to touch, each reveling in the feel of the other.
Mike's eyes widened as he followed the line of hair from Rick's navel to his groin and his breath hitched at the sight of his obvious arousal. Mike looked up at him and met a quizzical look. He swallowed and said softly,
"I take it you’re no longer pissed off with me?"
"You could say that," Rick replied and leaning in close, brushed his lips against Mike's. "So here we are, you and me, in the shower, getting to know each other better. Or are we just cleaning up our act?” That brought a laugh from Mike. Rick liked the way his face lit up with laughter, feeling he would like to be able to do that more often.
"Well, probably both," smiled Mike as his fingers travelled the length of Rick's body.
"Jeez, that feels good!"
"You feel good." Smiling but saying nothing more, Mike wrapped his hand slowly around Rick's cock, one careful finger at a time, watching as Rick gasped.
"I believe that’s the intention . . ." His hand moved slowly, gripping firmly. Mike did not break eye contact with him for a moment, watching Rick’s eyes darken as his arousal increased. He reached out to repay the compliment, and Mike’s breath hissed at the feel of that strong hand touching him so intimately. The men held each other close, masturbating each other as they kissed, their excitement mounting. Finally, they had to break the kiss, breathing shakily.
"I want to see you come," gasped Mike, his eyes on his hand, watching the rhythmic strokes he was giving, feeling Rick’s hand mirroring his. Rick's breathing became more and more labored, and he moved in for another kiss, sucking Mike’s tongue into his mouth, then driving his own deep, echoing the rhythm of their hands. Thrusting through his fist, Rick's body began to quiver as his climax drew near, Mike's focus entirely on Rick's cock. Rick's eyes blurred, became unfocussed and his scream vibrated in Mike’s throat.
"Mike, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna..."
"Come on Rick, show me, let me see you come!"
Gasping, head thrown back, teeth bared in a feral snarl, Rick’s orgasm hit hard, coming over Mike’s belly and groin. Running his grip the length of his cock from the root to the tip, Mike milked his orgasm, watching Rick’s face as he shuddered and sighed. Mike felt the slow burn of his own pleasure flare. The sight and sound of Rick climaxing sent him over the edge and his orgasm raced through him, coming hard and fast, falling against Rick’s chest. Rick’s arms came round his waist in a tight grip, supporting him as they let the water of the shower wash over them, cleansing away the signs of their lovemaking.
Recovering first, Rick moved back, his arms still clasped lightly about the other man’s waist.
“Bed?” he asked. Mike nodded and they toweled off quickly before Rick took Michael’s hand and led him back into the other room. There was a slight awkwardness as they looked at the bed.
“What?” Rick said impatiently.
“Um – which side do you prefer?” Rick laughed.
“Well, I’ll say this for you, you have perfect manners! I don’t care, you choose.”
Mike slipped under the sheet and turned to face Rick. Rick’s arms came round him and with a gentle sigh, Mike laid his head on the older man’s shoulder, snuggling the length of his body against him.
“Mmm – yeah . . . “ Mike yawned hugely and his eyes closed. Rick dropped a quick kiss on the blond head and smiled.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmured. Michael muttered something unintelligible, but Rick thought he’d said something about a silver fox. He’d let him sleep, but that was something he was going to have to explain when he woke.
To be continued . . .
© j.d.davis 2003