ATF Alternate Universe
Disclaimer: <Snore> Huh? What? Oh yeah. <Yawn> Not mine. Wish they were.
The band had just started playing when they walk in the door. Some damn song about tears and beers. I've had enough of those to last a lifetime. And so has he, by the looks of him. Those green eyes could tell a story or two, I reckon.I watch as they sit down at a nearby table. They order a drink. Whiskey for him and a beer for his companion, who's peering restlessly around the room. Looking at everyone but him. Damn fool. How anyone could not look at that face, that body, is beyond me. Is it my imagination, or is it hot in here? Maybe it's staring at that hard body in those tight black jeans that's making me sweat.
Now his date is standing up and moving towards the dance floor, passing right by my table. There ain't no ring on any finger that I can see. Good. I don't know what I would have done if there had been. Probably better that I don't have to find out. His so called date grabs the first sweet thing that gives 'em the eye, leaving the door wide open for the steal of the night. Hell, with that blonde hair and those cool green eyes and that long, lean body, he's more like the steal of a lifetime. I should be so lucky. And if I play my cards just right, maybe I will be.
Three dances later, he's still in his chair and his date's still on the dance floor, draped over yet another sweet young thing. Fine by me. The more the merrier. I ease on over til I'm gazing right into those green eyes. They might look cool, but they feel hot as he runs them slowly down the length of me. I can't ask him to dance, so what the hell do I say? The silence is becoming heavy, drawn out. My eyes skitter around the crowded room. There. I've got it.
"I was thinkin' about playing a game or two." I nod my head towards the pool table in the far corner. "Need someone to play with." My voice doesn't tremble like I was half afraid it would, but I could kick myself for saying such a damn stupid thing. Play pool? How unromantic can you get? He's gonna say no. And who the hell could blame him?
He doesn't say no. He just smiles at me and gets to his feet. I stumble along behind him as we make our way over to the far corner. I'm too busy watching that tight ass to watch where I'm going.
"You got a name, cowboy?" I ask as we set up the table. I'm trying to sound sexy, but my voice just sounds rough. Like I been eating gravel. "Chris." Again those eyes move over me, but his face reveals nothing. His voice is steady. Smooth. I wonder what it takes to rattle his cage? I hope to God I get a chance to find out. I wonder what he looks like all slick and wet and ready to... I gotta stop this. Me standing here with my tongue hangin' out ain't exactly a pretty sight.
I tell him my name, hoping I got it right. It's kinda hard to talk with him standing so close. Just inches away.
Watching my companion bend over the table to line up a shot nearly sends me into a tailspin. Forget what I said about pool being unromantic. It's sexy as hell if you know how to play it right.
"It feel hot in here to you?" I was standing a few feet away now, so it was a little easier for me to talk. I unbutton the top few buttons of my flannel shirt and roll up the sleeves as I speak. No harm in showing a bit of skin, I figure. I want to make damn sure his attention doesn't wander. I'm glad I decided to wear these particular jeans. They're not as tight as his, but they're faded in a few strategic spots.
It's my turn to bend over as I'm taking my shot. I take my time, wiggling around a bit more than is strictly necessary. I'm kinda disappointed by his lack of reaction, when I feel him brush up against me and whisper in my ear.
"Hotter than hell." That soft whisper makes me lose my grip on the cue and my shot goes wild. I whirl around, breathing like I'd just run a marathon or something. He's standing there looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Hmmm... Two can play at that game.
"This always helps cool me down some." I reach into his whiskey glass and grab a couple pieces of ice. I run the ice slowly across my lips, flicking my tongue out to catch a few of the drops. Then I run it down my chest, fingers almost caressing my skin. I can see the change in his breathing. It's starting to sound like my own. I grab another piece of ice and offer it to him.
"You want to try it?" I give him my best smile, but he shakes his head.
"I prefer things a little on the hot side, personally." I swear I can almost feel what's left of the ice sizzle in my palm. The man should be outlawed. A public menace to sanity. Mine, anyway. Cause I think I might go crazy if I can't have him.
We continue to play. And I ain't talkin' just pool here. I'm torn between wanting to hightail it out of this place and go somewhere where I can fuck the daylights out of him and wanting to stay and enjoy every second I can of this wonderful, terrible teasing thing we're doing.
Finally, the choice is made for us. The band plays their last song and we walk out to my jeep, the last people to leave.
We're both quiet as I open the door and watch him climb in. I go around to the driver's side and open the door, still watching him. I want to touch him so bad I can taste it. Taste him. Down boy. I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus on the mechanics of getting buckled in and starting the engine. When I think I can trust myself to speak, I turn to my companion.
"Where to?" I hope I don't sound anywhere near as desperate as I feel.
"Your place. It's closer. And hurry," growls Chris Larabee, my best friend and lover for the past two years.
"Anything you say, cowboy." I grin, stepping on the gas. These games of ours light me up like a firecracker on the fourth of July. And Chris likes them, too. I can't wait to get back to my place so he can show me how much.
THE END
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