Spotting a
man at an empty table, head bent and nursing a full glass of beer, he headed
straight over. His hand slid across the smooth, simulated wood panel at the top
of the chair and he moved suavely to stand at the man’s side. “Now you look
like you’re new around here, too. And I’ve got some time to kill. Can I get you
something?” It was a rather stupid thing to ask, given the status of the man’s
drink, but the line wasn’t as important as the meaning behind it.
“How would
you know what I want?” the man replied, looking up nervously but holding his
own in words and tone.
Leaning
into the seated man a little more, giving him a whiff of cologne, he pointed
briefly a few tables over. “Well, I know you don’t want that. Even if they have been hitting on you for the last twenty minutes.”
At that
table sat two men, both of whom looked completely drunk off the asses. It
wasn’t stopping them from making obscene, perverted, suggestive gestures over
at this seemingly nice guy. “That’s a given,” the man said with a nod. “But,
really,” he said, looking up with a playful tone in his voice as he made the
challenge. “What do I want?”
The answer
was an easy one. “Darling, you want what we all want.”
“And that
is?”
Counting on his fingers. “Love. Sex. Friendship. A
good time. Any or all of the above. In various permutations and in varying degrees.” He paused,
smiling. “Is that enough to win me a seat at your table?”
He paused,
considering this, then he stretched his leg out and
nudged one of the chairs across from him back from the table. He looked back
down at his drink while the other man took a seat.
“Hey, don’t
look so down. At least if I’m here it’ll keep the real creeps from trying to
pick you up, right?”
A shrug
came close to agreeing.
“What’s
your name, kid?”
“Marty,” he
replied. “And yours?”
“Coyote.”
A laugh. “What kind of a name is that?” Marty lifted his
beer and took a sip, which was a good sign that he was starting to feel a
little more comfortable. Laughter could do that to a person.
“I’d like
to think it’s a good one,” he said, honestly. “See?”
He turned halfway in his seat and pulled off his skin-tight blue shirt with
ease. A large tattoo could not be missed in the center of his back. It was a
coyote’s head as it was caught in mid-howl and beneath that, in letters that
looked like they should have appeared in graffiti on an inner city wall
instead, was the name spelled out.
“Is that so
people don’t think you’re called Wolf or something?” the man asked. He sounded
sardonic, but his eyes deceived him by showing admiration and interest in the
fine piece of body art.
His voice
low, rough, and passionate, “It’s so the boys have something to call out when
they take me like an animal.”
Marty
gulped and quickly went for another sip of beer. The sip was miniscule. It was
starting to become obvious that he did not care for beer at all and had ordered
it to have an excuse to sit at one of the tables.
“It’s a
nickname, but I’ve taken a liking to it,” he said, pulling his shirt back on,
but not before giving Marty a good look at his chest.
“So what’s
your real name and why do you go by a nickname instead? Are you a convicted
felon? Or in the witness relocation program maybe?”
Laughing
softly, “You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone so new at this.” He
took a deep breath. “I just think it suits me well. Nik
gave it to me and it just became my identity after a little while. And as for
my real name… you’ll have to get to know me a heck of a lot better before you
find that out.”
“Nik?” Marty inquired curiously.
“Jesus, you
really are new here, aren’t you?” He laughed as the man looked back down into
his drink. “Nik’s the owner of this here
establishment, Darling. The flaming queen of the nightclub
with a heart as big as his cock.” He raised a hand and held it in mid
air for a moment, limp-wristed. Then he swung his
hand back and they both followed the direction it was now pointing. Their eyes
fell upon the tall, lanky man with spiky blond hair, a virtually transparent
top, and tight leather pants. The man was somehow hanging off two men at the
same time and engaging both in conversation while letting them both share in
the duty of feeling him up.
“You know
the owner?” Marty asked nervously. He kept the beer glass on the table but
grasped the handle and ran his thumb up and down it absentmindedly. “Thought
you said you were new, too.”
“I grew up here
in Stokes, but I moved away a number of years ago. Just got
back into town two days ago. Not even enough time to unpack. Feels rather strange to be back here again. Guess I wanted
to be around someone who felt new to this as well.” He shrugged and shifted in
his seat. “I’d be happy to go, of course. But I could point out the regulars on
the scene for you if you’d like me to sick around.” He waited a moment, running
his hands through hair that was jet black, apart from a streak of green. And
when Marty did not answer, he slid off his seat and gave it up. “See you around
then, kid.”
“No. Wait,
Coyote.” Always obedient, he waited. And Marty gestured back to the seat. “Please
stay. If you want someone who’s new to all this, you’re definitely at the right
table.” His hand gripped the handle of his glass more firmly, however. And his
blue eyes met the man’s brown ones. “But if you’re just saying all this to get
into my pants—”
Laughing
and shaking his head, he sat back down again. “Darling, if I wanted a quick
fuck from easy prey, I’d be on my knees at this moment. But I suppose you could
call me one of those die hard traditional girls who prefers
to start with conversations and drinks. And, speaking of drinks…” With another
wave of his hand, he caught the attention of the shirtless hunk behind the bar.
“What’s your poison? Because you’re clearly not into beer.”
“Oh,” Marty
looked uneasy. “I could kind of just go for a ginger ale. I was never really
into the whole getting drunk thing. Made rush week a
nightmare, let me tell you.”
When he’d
finished ordering the drinks from afar, he turned back to the man, looking
interested. “So you’re a college educated man, are you?”
“Five years
at Brown,” Marty replied with a nod. “Took a job here a few
months ago. But even with two degrees and my best pair of trousers I
couldn’t manage to work the courage up to hit the clubs until now. Pathetic,
don’t you think?” He looked down at his beer and looked like he wished he could
drown his sorrows in it.
“Two degrees from an Ivy League university in five years? I
don’t think pathetic was exactly the word I was going for.”
“So what do
you do?” asked Marty, with genuine interest.
“Well…” He
sighed deeply. “Nothing much since I’ve moved back from Arizona.
Back there I managed to run two bands and one business into the ground in the
span of three years.” He shrugged casually, neither taking
pride or shame in the fact. The past was the past, as far as he was
concerned. “Mind if I ask what you do for a living?”
Marty
seemed hesitant, but answered finally. “I work in computers. Software
development.”
“Computers?” His voice was suddenly more
lively, full of excitement. “Oh, then I must introduce you to Sweetie.”
“Sweetie? What kind of a…” his voice died away. “Right. Nickname. Got it.”
Continuing
on, “He made the Fortune 55 three years in a row and sold out just before the
dot-com bubble burst. He’s got some sort of high-tech set-up at the house you’d probably die
for.”
“The house?” Marty said, sounding uncomfortable. “You… you
live with him, then?”
“Yes and
no.” Their drinks arrived, and they gave them a few moments of attention. The
ginger ale came along with a bottle of Woodchuck and both were seriously drunk
from before the conversation resumed. “Technically it’s a mansion, but we don’t
like to call it that. It’s Nik’s place though he and
Sweetie share it financially as much as the club. It’s sort of like a B&B
apart from the fact that meals are readily served by a lovable old faggot
instead of the owners and we don’t have to pay anything.”
“Really, no rent?”
A shrug. “They don’t really need the money. What with the
computing thing and how much this place makes. And Nik
likes the place full of people. Right now there are… seven of us staying there.” He
took a huge gulp of his hard cider then held up his hand. “Including me, of course. There’s Nik and Sweetie—”
“And
they’re together, I take it?”
Laughing,
he shook his head. “Oh no. I think they’re related, actually.
Cousins or something… I forget. But, no, they wouldn’t really work as lovers.
But there about as close as two people can get anyway. And Sweetie’s in a
pretty steady relationship, it seems. The guy, Jay, he’s staying there as well
but I’ve only met him once since I moved in. He seems to be a good enough guy,
though.” He counted off three fingers, leaving three more to go. “And then
there’s Auntie Al.”
“Auntie Al?” Marty was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.
“Auntie in the kindest sense of the term, of course. He’s
getting up there in age, but he’s an absolute sweetheart. He takes care of us
all at the house, doing the chores and cleaning. And he’s an excellent cook. Which is good because I’m crap in the kitchens. Then there’s
Olly, who has an even kinder heart than Auntie. He
works at the free healthcare clinic over on 28th and Joyce. So he’s
our resident doctor. And finally there’s Pit. He’s your typical bear, named
because it’s short for pit-bull. But he’s actually a cat person- weird, don’t
you think?”
By this
time, Marty absolutely wore a ‘deer in headlights’ look. He shook himself out
of a complete freeze by going for his drink.
“Listen to
me, going on about complete strangers and boring you to death.” He leaned
forward. He looked down at his hand where it lay upon the table, his finger
drawing invisible patterns on the metal surface. “I’m told I tend to talk too
much when I’m interested in a guy.”
In the
middle of taking a sip, Marty’s eyebrows rose over the rim of his glass. He set
it down and cleared his throat. “How many guys have you used that line on?”
Breaking
into a wide grin, he kept his eyes on the tabletop. “Tonight there’s only you.”
He looked up, hope in his eyes.
“It’s just
one good line after another with you, isn’t it?” He chuckled lightly. “Not that
I mind. It’s amusing. And certainly preferable to some of the creeps who might
be trying to pick me up were you not here.”
“Ah,
excellent…” he said, leaning closer. He lifted his hand so that his wrist was
eye-level, staring right at his wrist watch, and wiggled his fingers. “My
magical Coyote powers are finally starting to work on you.” Then his hand
slipped beneath the table and found the man’s thigh. He could feel the man’s
warmth through the thin slacks, and gave him a squeeze there. “Unfortunately,
as usual, they kick in just as I have to go.”
“What, to
the bathroom?” Marty looked confused again as a headshake answered his question.
Confusion turned to annoyance. “Stupid me, but I enjoyed talking with you. I
had a good time. One of those four things you said we all wanted here,
remember? And now you have to take off all of a sudden? All this and not even a
quick blow job in the bathrooms?”
He laughed.
“So at least you’ve been here long enough to know what happens in the
bathrooms. That’s a start.” Marty was not laughing, however. “Look, I’m sorry.
I did have a good time, as well. You’re a nice guy and the next time I see you
we’ll see if we can’t hook up. But I really do have to go now.” He downed the
last few gulps of his drink and cleared his throat. “Take care, Marty. If anyone
gives you any trouble, just ask for Nik and tell him
Coyote said to look after you.”
He slid off
the chair and walked over. He placed a firm kiss on Marty’s cheek. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets,
which was hard as his pants were so tight, and headed straight into the crowd
of dancing bodies as the song ended.
Marty sat
back, watching in disbelief. This sort of thing just wasn’t done. The guy
fights for his company, they seem to hit it off, and then one just walks away? A
free ginger ale and a bit of acquired knowledge hardly seemed a fair trade. He
gulped down the rest of his ginger ale and suppressed a burp. The music was
slowly fading out so he couldn’t even get absorbed in that any more to numb his
emotions. It was early yet, but perhaps time to go. Just as he pushed back from
the table, the lights all around the club dimmed and the stage at one end lit
up, drawing everyone’s gaze, including Marrty’s.
And there
he was, standing on center stage with his hands still in his pockets. He dipped
his head a bit in order to speak directly into the microphones. “I know I’ve
been having a good time tonight. How about the rest of you?” he asked, his voice
sounding exactly as it had moments before, only this time loud and echoing
through the large nightclub. But there was the same suaveness to him, the same
kindness, the same honesty.
The patrons
in the club did not cheer or clap to answer him. Instead, then all broke into
an enormous, combined set of howls. The sound made the man grin from ear to
ear, and Marty couldn’t help but find him irresistibly attractive when he did
that. Such brightness in his face, such handsome eyes, such a
cute dimple in his right cheek. “Thank you, Darlings. It’s good to be back home with you, too.” He took a step back and pulled off
his shirt. He spun around, showing off his tattoo to the crowd, and howled
loudly. Even without the microphone now behind him, the howl was loud enough to be
heard way in the back. And it caused everyone to howl again. This time, the now
less stunned Marty howled back a little as well.
“That’s
what I like to hear!” he shouted, once he had turned back around. As though
suddenly aware of the band behind him, he gestured back at them and the entire
stage lit up. Grabbing a guitar from a man who came to stand as far upstage as
he, now, he grinned again as he strummed it. “You ready to hear some music?” The
crowd erupted again, this time in applause and only a scattering of howls.
Marty sat
back in his seat and watched the man perform. It was something between glam
rock and pop but whatever it was came alive as it poured out of him. He didn’t
dance or move about all that much as he played, but he didn’t seem to need to
be one of those men who had to jump around to get the crowd excited. They were
dancing and clapping all the same, and some were even singing along though they
couldn’t be heard thanks to the brilliant sound system in the place. A system that was only matched by a brilliant accompanying lighting
system. As the songs went on, the band was bathed in various colors,
with everything from strobe lights to rainbow balls covering both stage and
dance floor.
For a few songs, and of course Marty could not be certain about this,
but it seemed the man was singing just to him. And when the set drew to a close
and “one last song” was announced, Marty knew what he had to do. Abandoning the
safety of the table and empty glass, he made his way over to the side of the
stage or as close to it as he could get without standing on the feet of a
couple security guards.
When the
song finally ended, the band members made sure their instruments were cared for
properly then they filed off the stage looking thoroughly exhausted. None
looked so tired and so pleased all at once as the last of the group, the
particular shirtless singer Marty had had his eye on all night.
“Hey!” he
called, spotting Marty. With a kiss to the cheek of a rather tough-looking
black security guard, he was given a hand and helped down off the stage. He
made a beeline to Marty. “Sorry about bailing so fast. Turbo’d
kill me if I got there late and I only just made it as it was. But I didn’t
expect to see you again tonight.”
“Just wanted
to say I thought you were amazing out there, at the risk of sounding like an
obsessed fan or something.” Marty’s smile turned a bit shy as he spouted out
his own line. “But you were pretty amazing earlier when I was just starting to
get to know you, too. And if you’re up for it, I’d like to take you up on that
promise.”
Laughing
and nodding, he leaned forward and wrapped a bare arm around the man’s back, pulling
him close to his chest. “Well, I did say we’d try and hook up the next time I
saw you, didn’t I?”
Nodding
back, he asked as more of a statement than a question, “So you want to come
home with me?”
He ran his
tongue over his lips. “Known me a few hours only and you already know what I
want?”
Marty shrugged. “It’s what we all
want, isn’t it?”
Smiling, he
drew the man even closer for a strong kiss. Somewhere in the kiss, lips opened
and tongues began to touch. And somewhere during the kiss Marty suddenly thought
of how nice it was to kiss someone so soon after he’d performed. He’d shared himself
with the club, and now would share himself with Marty. When the kiss ended,
they were both smiling and feeling a bit anxious with anticipation.
“I’ll take
that as a yes,” Marty said. He led the way out to the parking lot and to his car.
“Wow…” The
sight of the car, the one which flashed its headlights and started up when
Marty pressed the keyless remote, usually elicited a good reaction. “If you
don’t mind my asking, what—”
“Don’t,”
Marty interrupted, holding his hand up as they split to go to different sides
of the car. The conversation resumed when both were inside with seatbelts on
and doors closed. “No offense, but don’t waste your breath on a car question.
When it comes to computers, I can put them together in my sleep but cars are a
complete mystery to me. All I know is that this thing is silver and has half a
tank of gas in it. If not for the Darwin
fish on the bumper and those flashy lights I’d probably never even find the
damn thing. You’re welcome to read through the manual that’s in the glove
compartment on the way home if you actually have a question and weren’t just
making small talk. But don’t bother asking because I won’t know the answer.”
Laughing
and shaking his head, “Nah, I was just impressed. It’s a nice set of wheels. You
should see the clunker I drove back from Arizona
in.”
Shrugging,
Marty looked over his shoulder and backed out of the parking space. “What color
is it?”
“Ah, kind
of a rusty olive green I guess.” Marty pulled a face. “Yeah, I know,” he
laughed.
Marty’s
apartment building had its own parking garage. Which was also
impressive, even for someone currently living rent-free in a mansion. They
began kissing again in the elevator on the ride up to the eighth floor, and by
the time Marty had closed and locked the door behind them both
shirts were off and pants were unzipped.
Marty
flipped on the lights, giving them a look at the apartment. It was much more
cluttered and low scale than imagined. And several beer advertisements hung on
the walls. Raising an eyebrow, “Not a heavy drinker, you say? You’re a closet
lush!”
“Shhh!” Marty warned, pressing his
finger to the man’s lips. “Those belong to my roommate, Ass.”
“Oohhh…” He let Marty lead him into a bedroom which was much
more tidy and sophisticated right down to the blotter beside the flat screen
monitor on the desk across from the bed. “And does he get mad when guests
insult his putrid taste in décor?”
“She,”replied
Marty, “Only gets mad when she’s woken up in the middle of the night. So try to
keep it down as I’m fucking you. Got it?”
“Absolutely,”
he replied, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants to reveal he
wore nothing underneath. It was Marty’s turn to look impressed, as he slithered
out of the rest of his clothes and under the covers of the bed where it was
warmer. But not before he’d given his guest a good look at his body. It wasn’t
anything particularly special, but it was clear he worked out and took care of
himself despite working a desk job.
Instead of
jumping into bed, like an animal he burrowed in from the bottom, beneath the
blankets. He stopped halfway up to lap at Marty’s erection, then
crawled the rest of the way with skin touching skin in every place possible.
“Mmm, Coyote,” Marty purred softly as the man now kissed across
his jaw line on one side. His hand slid down and caressed both bare, erect cocks, one at a time at first then both at the
same time as the two of them moved closer. Their bodies ground together, with
touching everywhere there was to touch. It grew so warm that Marty threw off
the covers. For a few moments, Marty paused and took in the sight of the
muscular musician.
“You all right?”
Marty
nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Got a bit caught up. Wanted to take a moment to really
appreciate you… God but you’re attractive.”
Chuckling
softly, and smiling just as shyly. “Aw, thanks. Now that’s the kind of
compliment a girl likes to hear. You’re not so bad yourself, you know. Ah!” He
gasped as Marty took advantage of what was before him.
Marty kissed
each pierced nipple in turn, working his tongue back and forth over the rings
and causing a whole series of gasps. Then, when sure the man had gone weak with
tingling sensations, Marty kissed him. It was quick and strong and purposefully
surprised the man. Marty pushed him back against the bed and then pinned him
down.
Given the
man’s stage presence, Marty was slightly surprised when he met no resistance as
he worked his moves upon him. He kissed and touched back, of course, but Marty
was clearly in control. So he forced his leg in-between the two strong thighs
and pressed his hand against the part of the man’s cock not pressed against his
leg. When he began to stroke, the man gave a deep groan of pleasure and
appreciation.
Lying down
upon him, Marty bit his shoulder to remind him to stay silent. Marty really did
not want to bring up the subject of his roommate again. She wasn’t the best
thing to talk about to maintain an erection. The groaning quieted, however, then it was completely replaced by heavy, desperate panting.
In mere moments, Marty felt the man relax completely, and he asked “You ready?”
in between a series of kisses against face, chest, and neck.
Marty’s
tongue reached up and flicked at an earlobe, the gold hoop earring was cool to
the touch but he very much liked the feel of it and the way it bounced about
loosely on the tip of his tongue. “Ready,” came a
shaky, breathy reply.
Fervent
nodding which accompanied the reply stopped as he let Marty turn him right over
on the bed so that he was face down. Then Marty sat on the backs of his thighs,
pinning him down again.
Now in
position, Marty found himself distracted by the sight of the handsome body
beneath him, once again. Gently, he ran his fingertips against the tattoo. He
had never before made love to a man with a tattoo and he had not expected it to
turn him on so much. Curious, he kissed the Coyote’s mouth then pulled back, as
though expecting it to come off like paint. Though this did not happen, the
wildness of it all practically flowed right into him from it, filling him,
energizing him. He sat up and slapped his hand smoothly across the man’s ass
cheeks.
There was a
bit of a jump as he was startled by the touch. But then he smiled widely as he
felt Marty shifting on top of him.
Marty
leaned over and pulled a condom from the bottom drawer of his nightstand. It
was a bit of a stretch, just as it was to put on the condom, but well worth it.
With a bit of lubricant, both rubbed against his sleeved cock and dribbled onto
his eager, gasping lover’s ass, he slid inside.
It was
Marty’s turn to groan with pleasure now, which elicited a playful “Shush!” from
the man beneath him.
“Oh, don’t
you shush me!” Marty laughed, thrusting in and out slowly at first. “It’s your
fault I’m having such a… mmmph… such a good time.
Oh…” He groaned again. “Oh, Coyote!” Strangely, he did
not feel silly crying out the unusual name. It suited the man quite well, in
fact. The roughness, the passion, the desire. Marty
felt it all as he quickened his thrusts just a little.
“Shush,” he
repeated, the unsteady, desperate note in his voice telling Marty how close he
was now.
“Oh you’re
going to get it now!” One hand grasped the man’s side and the other reached
forward and filled with tangles of long, dark brown hair. He held on tightly in
both places as his thrusts became even stronger, faster. He pushed the man’s
head down and pulled it back up again, driving him onward as the man moved as
well as he could in time to the rhythmic thrusts. Keeping his eye on the
tattoo, he rode the man like an animal.
Yet when
they came, at roughly the same time, they were both relatively quiet. It was
strange considering the roughness of the sex, but easily explained by Marty’s
practice at keeping quiet because of his roommate and the fact that feather pillows
muffled cries rather well.
When it was
over, Marty rolled off, exhausted and weak. He still retrieved a thin hand
towel from the same drawer of the nightstand and handed it over to his guest. He
made do with a few tissues and the trashcan beside the bed. Then he sighed and
turned onto his side, facing the other man. “You’re welcome to stay the night
if you like. But if you need to bail, that’s fine, too. But I need to ask… was
that all right?”
He chuckled
and nodded reassuringly. “Absolutely. And…” he kissed
Marty tenderly. “And thank you for not howling.”
“What?”
“Thank you
for not howling when you came. Some men do. They think I’d like it or think
they’re being clever or something but it drives me crazy.”
“Really?” Marty stretched out his arm above him, then pulled
it back and used it to prop himself up a little. “But you really seemed to like
everyone howling for you at the club.”
“Well
that’s different,” he replied, bending his arm and propping himself up as well,
facing and mirroring Marty. “When I’m on stage… that’s a
performance. That’s not really me.”
“Oh, I
disagree with that.” He shook his head at the surprised expression that met his
comment. “After getting to know you first, I could see all of what I learned
about you on stage with you. Your honest way of speaking, your passion for your
friends, your kindness, your way of making people feel comfortable and happy,
your dedication to tasks, your drop dead gorgeous looks, your—”
Chuckling,
he silenced Marty with a kiss. “Al right, I’ve got it. But you’re just staying
that because you knew me before I performed.”
“Maybe,”
Marty agreed. “But I have a feeling that if I first saw you on stage and met
you for the first time afterwards you’d have taken me for some fan and you
wouldn’t have let me bring you home to give you a good time.”
After a
moment or two of thought, “Mmm, how’d you know that?”
Marty
kissed him fully, tugging a bit playfully on his bottom lip in the process. “Because
I know you’re the kind of girl who likes conversation and drinks…” He slid his
hand down the man’s side, resting it on a strong hip. The man’s cock twitched
with excitement at Marty’s hand getting so close, but it was too soon for it to
do much more. Marty smiled and finished. “And you like people who don’t howl
when they come inside you.”
Chuckling,
he nodded. “Met me just a few hours ago and you think you know so well what I
want?”
With
another smile and another kiss, “We all want the same thing, right Coyote?” His
hand slid down and gently stroked the flaccid yet still terribly appealing
cock. The man shuddered at the touch. “And I would very much like to see you
again and get to know you even better.”
“I think
you know me pretty well already.” He reached down and stroked the back of
Marty’s hand. Then reached up and stroked Marty’s cheek tenderly.
Marty shook
his head, shaking off the touch while he was at it. “There’s at least one thing
I don’t know.”
After a
deep breath in and out, he sat up decidedly and reached for his pants. Nervous
about what that might mean, Marty sat up as well. He saw the wallet slip out of
a pocket and a pen with it. The man scribbled something on the card and thrust
it at Marty. Then he relaxed back on the bed, arms bent with hands folded
beneath his head.
Above a
phone number was a scribbled name, and it made Marty raise an eyebrow. He
looked into the man’s eyes and shrugged. “You don’t exactly act like a Samuel,
but you sort of look it.” Then, with a smile, “I still prefer Coyote.”
“Yeah?” Sam said, looking rather relieved at that. “Look, as
much as I appreciate the invitation to stay, I really should get back home.
But, uh…” He tapped the card. “If you’re not too discouraged by the name or the
whole musician thing, give me a call.”
“Absolutely,”
Marty promised.