Thank you for the beta, Marnie!
| You can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.
You Can't Always Get What You Want |
ONE
I met him in a local dive bar in a small backwater town in Texas.
It was early August and the night was sweltering hot. The bar was run down, just like the town and just like the locals hanging in it. There just isn't much of a choice in a town like this, so I went in, like I've done most of my adult life. Besides, the bar was cold and the beer was colder.
I wasn't surprised to see a decent crowd in the place. It was Saturday night and this was the only game in town. The only game for miles, as a matter of fact.
I sat at the bar and got a beer. I knew everyone in the place. The music was blaring some sad and depressing country music tunes. I had to laugh, even if it were bitterly, at how the music just added to the melancholy atmosphere of the place. Sad music, sad town and even sadder people.
Been watching this scene for so many years now. Same bar, same people, same sense of failure and hopelessness. I mean look at them. Same women with their painted faces and too tight clothes. Same men with their beer bellies and pathetic lines and lies. Old women trying to look young, and young women looking older than their years. And desperate men just looking to get into anyone's pants.
And still the drinks keep flowing, the music keeps playing and everyone pretends that this is the night that they'll find something special. Someone who'll take them away from this place and make life more bearable.
But in the end, everyone here knows that this is as good as it gets, and sharing the night with a warm body, any warm body, is better than sleeping alone. Hell, no wonder why everyone here keeps drinking.
Suddenly, the music, the smell and the smoke became overwhelming to me. I just wanted to run out of the place. I turned to leave, and that's when I saw him.
He was at the pool table, which was why I didn't see him when I walked in. He was playing alone, and by the look on his face, that was just the way he wanted it.
He sure was a pretty boy. But he had a dangerous edge and that sure did send the sexual tension in the place into overdrive.
Pure sex, wrapped up in a pair of tight, ripped, faded jeans. That's what this one was. The hell of it was that he had no idea what effect he was having on the ladies, and from what I could tell, some of the guys.
I watched as some of the ladies made a play for him. Hell, who could blame them? It wasn't very often that strangers stopped in this dive, and I can tell you, I can't remember many that looked as fine as he did.
His face colored a bit at some of the suggestions whispered in his ear. But he was a good sport about it and he flashed the most beautiful smile as he let them down easy, and politely turned them away.
He went back to his game and seemed to shut out the noise and the out right blatant invitiations that were sent his way. I was intrigued.
I tried to be discreet in my appraisal of him. I was watching his every move. He must of sensed my scrunity because he looked up and our eyes locked on each other.
His eyes widened, looking almost shocked when he saw me. It was as if he knew me. Like I was a long lost friend. I swear, looking into those incredible blue eyes, I saw such fire, such desire. And I knew, right then and there, that it was not a friend that he was seeing, but a lover.
And then, he shook his head as he realized where he was and who he was or rather wasn't really seeing, and then that look in his eyes disappeared as fast as it came.
I watched him play pool a while longer. Watched as the pool stick would smoothly slide through his long fingers. Watched as he sucked the beer through the long neck of the bottle, and watched how his tongue would peek out and lick the beer glistened lips.
I was hooked. I wanted him. Had to have him. The fact that he was a man was no problem for me. I've always played on both sides of the fence. It all depends on who strikes my fancy at the time. And right now, it was him.
I'm a pretty confident guy. I know most people in these parts consider me to be good looking, and truth is, I never have trouble getting someone to keep me company, so I figured there was no time like the present. I bought us a couple of beers and walked on over to him.
He was intent on the shot he was taking, and he didn't pay attention to me, although I got the feeling that he was well aware that I was standing there.
Once he made the shot, he looked up and right at me, his expression guarded. Smiling at him, I lifted the bottle and asked,
"Buy you a beer?"
He took a second to think about it, then he quirked his lips into a grin and reached out for the beer.
"Much obliged."
I smiled back at him and watched him rack the balls for another game.
"You play?" he asked.
"Sure do," I said. And he had no idea how much I wanted to play with him. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with pool. Unless it was bending him over the damn table and fucking him.
Before I knew it, I had a cue stick in my hand and one game turned into two, and two into three. We didn't talk much. Said more with our eyes and gestures than with any words. A touch here, a brush of body against body there. He caught me looking and smiled. I caught him looking and gave him an invitation.
"Come home with me," I said.
He thought about it for a few seconds, then he grinned, nodded a 'yes', and we left the bar together.
He led me through the parking lot to his Harley. The bike was sleek, solid and beautiful but with a toughness to it. Just like its rider.
He followed my truck home. I watched him through the rear view mirror. I figured this would be the time that he could change his mind and take off, but he didn't.
We went inside the house. I brought him into the living room, told him make himself comfortable while I got us a couple of beers.
When I got back, he was standing up, taking in the room, looking at the pictures.
He turned to look at me when I approached him. Again, there was that look of familiarity and longing in his eyes. In that moment, I knew why he came home with me. It wasn't me. It was the memory of someone else. Someone I must have resembled.
As I handed him the beer, I realized that I didn't even know his name. Even though I knew he didn't want to really know me, I wanted to know him. Know about him. Know his story.
"My name's Johnny."
He shook my hand saying, "Vin."
"Where you from, Vin?"
"No where," he said. But I could hear the drawl in his accent. It wasn't as strong as my own, even still, it was obvious that he was a home grown Texas boy. He may have been away from home for a long time, but he was a native son.
"Where you headed?"
"No where," he laughed. "'Cept maybe your bedroom."
I may be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to do what he came here to do. And I wanted to do him, so I led him to the bedroom.
TWO
He followed me to the bedroom. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts. I took one look at his handsome face, at those sensual lips and before I even realized I was doing it, I was pulling him close to me, pressing my lips to his, trying to work my tongue into his mouth.
He pulled away from me. He didn't want me to kiss him. But before I could protest I felt his hands on me, pulling at my zipper. In seconds my cock was out of my pants and into his hands.
He dropped to his knees and sent me to heaven as he wrapped those lips around my dick and moved his lips up and down my shaft, from my balls to the tip of the head. He sucked on me with such passion. He was experienced and he knew what he was doing. Just the right amount of speed, the right amount of pressure.
I ran my hands through his hair, wrapping the long curls around my hands. I wanted to touch that hair all night, but now, it was more to keep myself grounded.
He was so good at this. Too good. I had to stop him or I would come, and this night would be over before it even began. So, I held his head still and pulled away from him.
I helped him up off his knees. I stood behind him, ran my hands along his body. He still had his clothes on, but they wouldn't be on him for long.
I turned him around to face me. As I started to take his shirt off of him, he closed his eyes.
"Look at me, Vin."
He shook his head. "No. I can't," he whispered.
I understood. I really did. So, when his shirt was gone, I started to kiss his chest, then kissed my way to his neck. His breathing was getting heavier, and I was proud to see I was giving him goose bumps, prouder to feel the bulge in his pants.
I took his face between my hands. His eyes were still closed.
"Let me give you what you want, Vin."
He wore a sad smile as he shook his head. "You can't give me what I want."
Again, I understood. It wasn't that I couldn't give him what he wanted. I couldn't be who he wanted.
"Okay," I said. "Then let me give you what you need."
I waited for him to think about that. "What do you need, Vin?"
He opened his eyes then. There was such sadness and desperation there, that I would do anything to take that look away from him.
"Vin?"
"I need...I need you to make me forget him. Help me forget him."
How could I refuse him? I couldn't. I'd like to say I was being noble, but I wasn't. My reasons were purely selfish. I wanted him, and I was going to have him.
I smiled at him. I started to gently stroke his arms, his body.
"No," he rasped. "Not nice. Not easy. Hard and rough."
If I thought I was hard before, well, I was wrong. His words sent every drop of blood in my body to my dick. I was so hard that it almost hurt, and I had every intention of giving it to him exactly the way he wanted it.
I practically ripped his pants off of his body and he was totally naked in front of me in seconds. I stepped away from him. I wanted to see him. I was speechless. His skin was smooth and tanned. His body, toned, athletic. He had scars, but he wore them like badges of honor. A testament to a man who lived and played hard.
Looking at him, from that chiseled face, to that body and that cock jutting from his body proud and hard, my breath literally caught in my throat.
"You're beautiful," I whispered to him.
He didn't say anything, and I don't know if it was his silence or if it was the subtle blush that colored his face, but I felt like a bolt of lightning flashed through my body and I was on him in a blink of an eye.
I caught him a little off guard, but I saw the satisfied smirk on his face as I grabbled him and sent him hard to his knees again.
"Suck me."
I wrapped my hands in his hair again, controling his motion as I fucked his mouth. I held him still, while I went deep into his throat, until I hit the back of his throat, gagging him. I gave him a second to adjust to me, and then gave it to him again. Gagging him again.
I quickly pulled out of his mouth. I grabbed him, lifted him up and threw him face first down on to the bed. He was breathing so hard. Excitement mixed with a bit of fear, I guessed. For a second, I didn't move. I wanted to be sure that he was sure.
He glanced over his shoulder at me, smirking. "That all ya got, Johnny?"
That look on his face, that infuriating smirk. It was like I was a bull seeing red. I grabbed him by his hips so hard that I knew he'd have bruises where my fingers dug in. I pulled him off the bed til he was bent over it. His upper body and face on the mattress, his legs spread wide, feet planted on the floor, and his ass, his sweet ass in the perfect postion for me to fuck.
"Don't fucking move," I hissed at him, as I moved away from him and reached into the night stand for some Slick to ease the way.
I lubed my fingers and spread his cheeks. I dribbled a few drops of the oil onto his hole and then I pushed my finger inside of him. I jammed my fingers, one, two, then three. I wasn't gentle. It was hard enough to make him grunt, but not so hard that I really hurt him.
As soon as I felt he was ready, I pulled my fingers out of him. I didn't give him a second to catch his breath. I positioned my cock, I pushed in slowly til the head of my cock filled his passage, then I thrust into him. Hard. Fast and hard. In and out.
The sound of his moaning was making me crazy. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was pushing his ass back to meet my thrusting cock.
I was pounding into him, and he was taking it, moaning and begging me to go harder, deeper and faster. This is what he needed. He needed the pain. It was as if he was using my dick to fuck away the memory of that person he wanted to forget.
Seeing him like this. So vulnerable and wanting, just about pushed me over the edge. I reached around him, fisting his cock, jerking him off. As he came, his ass clenched around my dick and that sent my juices flowing and I came right along with him.
I may have helped him forget for a moment, but a moment was all he got because as I pulled out of him I heard him softly whisper, "Chris."
I jumped off the bed, went to the bathroom and got us some wet washcloths to clean ourselves up a bit with.
I handed a cloth to him, and when he looked at me, I could see that blush making another appearance on his face. It made me just want to eat him up alive.
He started to get up off the bed. I didn't want the night to end.
"Stay the night?"
He thought it over. "Ya sure?"
"Oh yeah. I'm sure."
"Obliged."
I smiled at him and pulled the covers over us. In minutes we were both fast asleep.
THREE
He stayed with me for a few weeks. We became friends during that time. He told me about his life in Denver. I was surprised and impressed to learn that he was an ATF sharp shooter. He was on a leave of absence, and he wasn't sure if he would go back. I was shocked when he told me he was in love with his boss, the ever present Chris.
It was the best sex I've had in longer than I can remember. But still, there was a wall around him, a distance that he put between himself and anyone who tried to get close to him.
I knew he was protecting me as much as he was himself. He was honest to a fault. He was clear about what he needed from me and what he didn't. Still, I couldn't help but wish that when I was fucking him, and he was closing his eyes, and he was seeing and feeling Chris, that he would just let that fantasy go and just see me.
I've never been a man who believed in love at first sight, or in love happening so quickly, but I knew that I was falling in love with him. He knew it, too. And that's why I wasn't surprised when he told me he was moving on.
I stood by the Harley as he was getting ready to leave. I wanted to give him a reason to stay, but I knew he wouldn't.
"Where you headed?"
"Gonna head back to Denver."
"You sure?"
"Yep. I'm gonna go back and get what I want."
We shook hands, and even though I wanted to kiss him, I just pulled him into a friendly hug, we were in Texas after all, and wished him luck.
He smiled at me, revved up the Harley and rode away.
I watched him until I couldn't see him any more.
As he rode off to get what he wanted, I went to the bar to get what I need...END