by Jamie Lake
“I had another idea,” Hunter suggested.
“What’s that?” Casey asked.
Hunter seemed nervous, picking at the folded egg.
“Too salty?” Casey asked.
“No, it’s good. I was just wonderin’ ... you know?”
“What?” Casey asked. He sat down and laid a napkin onto his lap. What was going on with Hunter? He seemed so awkward and nervous, so unlike his usual confident self.
“If you wanna hang ... sometime.”
“Hang?” Casey repeated. "What?"
“Yeah, tonight’s line dancin’ and...”
“Line dancing?” Casey echoed.
“Yeah, it’s fun.”
“Sure,” Casey said, only pausing for a moment. He tried to keep his tone casual. Buddies went line dancing together all the time, right? There was nothing remotely romantic about it, so there was no danger of a repeat of last night. Just a guys’ night out.
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 26
The country bar was a lot cleaner than Casey was expecting, aside from a dead armadillo or two. The loud speakers thumped with twang as the two of them sat down for a drink.
“Ah, that’s my song,” Hunter said, tapping his boots to the beat. Casey turned around to see people on the dance floor. Evidently it was everyone else’s song too.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Hunter nudged. “Ever Tush Push?”
“What?” Casey gulped.
“I’ll show you.” Hunter flashed that million-dollar smile as he pulled Casey onto the dance floor, “Line dancing.”
“I’m not the most coordinated guy in the world,” Casey admitted.
“You can do it.” Hunter winked and Casey thought his knees would surely give out.
“Okay, but if I fall on my ass…” Casey warned.
“Start with your right foot. Now tap it once, then bring it back, then to the front again, and tap, tap. Good, just like that,” Hunter said, demonstrating. Casey watched carefully, taking in Hunter’s every movement.
“Like this?”
“Good. Now, hop to the other side and with your left foot tap once, back, then back again tap, tap.” Hunter’s thick, muscular thighs flexed as he showed Casey how to do each step. He tried to focus on the dance and not get distracted.
“So, tap once, back...” Casey said.
“Yeah, and tap, tap. That’s great, Casey. You’re a natural,” Hunter smiled, dipping his tan cowboy hat. Casey smiled back.
It didn’t take him long to learn the whole dance, especially with Hunter as teacher, swaying his hips. Casey couldn’t help but stare at his hot ass. He had to wipe his mouth really quickly. His mind drifted to images of watching Hunter’s ass thrust him from behind while fucking him.
The two of them tried it on their own for a bit, but then Casey was able to join the rest of the group. Though reluctant at first, he was having the time of his life. By the time the first round of songs were over, they were both hot and sweaty. Casey didn’t even care.
They both caught their breath and met in the middle of the shining floor.
“Having fun?” Hunter asked, his eyes lighting up the whole room.
“Yeah, definitely,” Casey answered.
Like magnets, their eyes latched onto one another so hard, they had to pull away. “How about we get another drink?” Hunter suggested.
“Good idea,” Casey said.
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 27
One drink turned into six.
Six turned into a lot more than six.
While Casey was pretty sure he’d matched Hunter drink-for-drink, the other man didn’t seem to be quite so tipsy. Okay, Casey admitted, as he nearly tripped up the stairs to the front porch, maybe tipsy wasn’t quite accurate. Hunter wrapped his arms around Casey, practically carrying him up the stairs. When he tried to dig in his pocket for the key to the front door, Casey felt himself tipping backwards. Hunter caught him again, laughing hard enough that Casey could feel the vibrations through his whole body.
“You gotta unlock it then,” Hunter said.
Casey was so drunk, it took him a while to get out his key. Putting it in the lock was going to be even trickier. Hunter had to lift Casey’s hand up, resting his warm, weathered hands on him, balancing Casey’s body against his hip.
“Just stick it in the hole,” Hunter said, his raspy baritone voice making Casey's skin tingle as he came up behind him and helped him to open the door.
Casey could feel the warmth of Hunter’s body behind him, and the hot smell of sweat permeated the air. The hardness of Hunter’s bulge in his skin-tight denims pressed against the back of Casey.
“Just push,” Hunter said, his breath on the back of Casey’s neck.
Casey was about to explode in his pants, but he knew Hunter was just drunk. It didn’t mean anything.
Casey pushed the door open and the two of them collapsed on the living room couch, laughing.
“That was a good time. A really, really good time,” Casey laughed.
Hunter caught his breath, his chest heaving up and down through his white t-shirt. “Yeah, that was awesome.”
There was a silence between them for a second, just the sound of them breathing and the crickets singing outside.
It was just the two of them. Alone.
Casey may have been beyond buzzed, but he did notice Hunter on the other end of the couch, his hands resting on his legs, sliding to his groin area. His thumbs fiddled with the fly of his jeans.
“It’s so hot,” Hunter said, frustrated with his fumbling fingers.
Oh, Jesus. Dear God, Casey thought. Please, don’t do that. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.
Casey couldn’t help but notice how hard Hunter had become in the process.
“Can’t open these,” Hunter said, laughing.
Casey swallowed, his throat dry. “Let me help.”
“Okay. Yeah,” Hunter said, biting his lip in frustration.
Casey collapsed on the floor and crawled over to Hunter on his knees.
Just breathe. He just needs help unbuttoning, that’s all. Don’t do anything you’ll regret and for the love of God, don’t take advantage of him. He’ll never speak to you again.
Casey had to keep his anxious hands from trembling as he reached Hunter. The two of them locked eyes.
Hunter was drenched in sweat; maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe it was because it was fucking hot in the living room, or maybe it was something else.
Hunter flashed a smile at him.
“Sorry,” Hunter said.
His lips were so plump and moist, Casey wanted nothing more than to suck them with a hot, wet kiss—or anything else Hunter wanted to offer him.
Stop it, Casey told himself. Just help him out.
But when Hunter’s tongue traced his front teeth and the woodsy aroma of beer and hot sweat made its way to Casey’s nostrils, it turned him on, big time. His erection pressed painfully against his zipper.
“No problem,” Casey answered, his hands resting in Hunter’s groin area as he started to unbutton. “They are tight,” Casey chuckled.
“Go ahead,” Hunter said, thrusting his crotch forward to make it easier.
Casey popped those buttons open until he got to nearly the last one, and that’s when it happened: Hunter’s cock popped out as well.
It was semi-hard and thick.
“Sorry,” Hunter said, trying to stuff it back in his boxers, as if teasing him, daring him to pull it out again.
“No, it’s ... it’s ... it’s okay.” Casey said, embarrassed. He tried to keep his eyes off of it and ignored his own growing cock which was rock hard.
“Help me get off ... I mean, get them off?” Hunter asked, slurring his words as he pulled his pants down.
Casey took both hands on either side of the jeans.
“Pull it,” Hunter said. Something in his voice was very dominant, which only turned Casey on more.
&
nbsp; He obeyed, pulling the tight jeans off, his hands sliding down Hunter’s sweaty, muscular thighs to his hairy, thick calves and down to his socks.
Hunter stood up as Casey went down on his knees. He swallowed hard at the sight of Casey kneeling there, head perfectly poised, as if ready to just open his mouth...
Casey kept his eyes down. He couldn’t look up, not knowing that Hunter was in a t-shirt and boxers. Boxers that housed a bulge that he was far too interested in. His face was at the perfect height to pull Hunter’s cock out and give him the blow job of his life. Jesus Christ, Casey thought, fighting the urge.
He could smell Hunter’s aroma wafting down on him.
“Hey, Casey,” Hunter said, soft and masculine, his voice rumbling.
Casey swallowed, looking up.
“While you’re down there, can you get me off?”
“What?” Casey asked, his voice cracking. He flushed.
“I mean my socks. Can you get my socks off?” Hunter said. He tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside.
“Sure,” Casey said.
“Should I sit down?”
“If you want.”
Hunter collapsed onto the couch and let out a moan. “Feels good,” he said.
He looked good. Those boxers, that body. Casey wanted to run his tongue over each and every tattoo. His legs opened as Casey removed his socks one by one. Casey knew it was a little kinky, but he liked the sweaty smell of a real man’s feet.
For as masculine as he was, Hunter was good at keeping himself clean. The scent was intoxicating.
“Ow!” Hunter winced.
“What is it?” Casey paused.
“My legs are sore. Been riding too much, I guess,” he said.
“Where?” Casey asked. “Here?” He placed his warm hands onto Hunter’s legs and kneaded the knots he felt under the skin.
“Ooh. Yeah, right there. Thanks, man.” Hunter said, closing his eyes.
Casey massaged his calf up and down, just the way Hunter liked it. His hands travelled from his legs to his thighs.
“This alright?” Casey asked.
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Hunter said, thrusting his crotch forward once again as he became more comfortable.
Casey threw himself into the massage, gripping and sliding, gripping and sliding.
“Hey Casey,” Hunter said.
“Yeah?” Casey responded.
“It’s a little dry. Got any oil?” Hunter suggested.
Oh, my God, Casey thought. He was going to cream in his shorts. Everything Hunter said could be explained away as perfectly innocent, even while it brought forth some deliciously filthy alternative ideas.
“Sure,” Casey said. He looked around for lotion in the downstairs bathroom cabinet. Nothing.
Dammit.
He didn’t want to take the time to run upstairs and check too. He wasn’t sure how long this moment was going to last, and he wanted to enjoy it while he could. There was something in the kitchen that could work. “All you’ve got is olive oil,” Casey said.
“Me? It’s our house now. It’s both of ours,” Hunter slurred.
Casey smiled at the thought as he hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle from the cupboard.
“Whatever works,” Hunter said, his head leaned back.
Casey fell back to his knees and flipped open the bottle of olive oil. He poured it on his hands, oil dripping down his wrists as he worked his way from the back of Hunter’s calf to his thighs. Pressing and sliding, pressing and sliding.
Soon, Casey found his way to Hunter’s inner thighs.
“That good?” Casey asked.
“It’s okay. You can keep going, if you want,” Hunter said, breathing in.
Oh, he very much wanted to keep going. Casey started to move his hands into uncharted territory when a loud and familiar ringtone cut through the air. He froze.
Shit.
“You wanna get that?” Hunter slurred. “Callin’ late. Might be important.”
“No.” Casey shook his head. He slid his hands back down Hunter’s legs. “It’s fine.”
“You should get it,” Hunter insisted as the phone continued to ring. “How do you know it’s not about your mom?”
Casey knew he could lie, but it wouldn’t be right. So even though the truth was going to ruin what they’d had going, he said it. “It’s McDermott’s ringtone.”
“Oh.” Hunter pushed himself up into a more upright position. “He still has his own ringtone.”
Casey sat back on his heels. “I just never took him out of my phone.”
Hunter nodded and stood. He swayed slightly, but caught himself. His voice was surprisingly sober sounding as he said, “You might wanna think about why that is, Casey.”
The phone stopped ringing, but Casey made no move towards it. All he could do was watch Hunter trudge towards the steps and then disappear upstairs, leaving Casey with that statement ringing in his ears and questions following after. Questions that were going to need to be answered, and soon.
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 28
The night before came crashing down on Casey as he was startled awake by a clatter from the kitchen. He dragged his way into the kitchen where he found Hunter dumping rags into the trash. Rags that looked like they’d been soaked in oil.
“Morning,” Casey said, his cheeks burning as he remembered the olive oil.
Without making eye contact, Hunter cleared his throat and mumbled, “Good morning.”
Oh, yeah, this was going to be awkward. Casey could’ve kicked himself. He and Hunter were supposed to be leaving for the reunion this morning and they were tiptoeing around each other.
“Gotta go get ready,” Hunter said. He brushed past Casey up the stairs. A minute later, the sound of the shower came down the stairs.
Casey sank into the kitchen chair, clutching his aching head. He shouldn’t have done what he’d done last night. Couldn’t he control himself? Now he’d jeopardized his living space and his only friend. He wanted to talk about it with Hunter, to apologize, but he knew Hunter was right. It was getting late and if he didn’t get ready soon, they’d never beat traffic to Portland. Besides, he needed to get rid of this hangover if he was going to be able to hold a coherent conversation.
Thirty minutes later, Casey was waiting in the living room when Hunter rushed down the stairs completely unrecognizable. He hadn’t just cleaned up. A few days ago, Casey had given Hunter a few pictures of properly groomed men to look at and to help him decide if there were any pointers he could take away. Apparently, he’d taken that to heart. His eyebrows were plucked, his beard all but gone, down to just enough stubble to keep him from having a tan line. Casey could see the full shape of Hunter’s mouth for the first time and it made his gut clench painfully. Then there was the hair. The haircut couldn’t pass for something expensive, but Casey could barely believe that Hunter had done it himself. It was short, exposing Hunter’s face and neck, revealing the true beauty of those strong lines. He was gorgeous.
Casey almost didn’t want to look at him, but he couldn’t help himself. The transformation was remarkable. Hunter had been attractive before, and this wasn’t like he’d changed who he was. It was more like he’d been some beautiful sculpture, hidden beneath layers of dust and grime, and was just now getting cleaned off so the true beauty could shine through.
“Let’s go,” Hunter said as he opened the door. He made only enough eye contact to motion Casey towards the truck.
_________ o _________
CHAPTER 29
It seemed like hours before someone said a single word. So much was running through Casey’s mind: so many doubts, so many insecurities. Casey just wanted to cry. He’d fucked up and fucked up badly. Why had he kept McDermott in his phone? Last night, when he’d finally gone up to his room, he’d sat on the edge of his bed, staring at McDermott’s name in his phone, thinking about everything that had happened in his life. The years he’d spen
t in high school being picked on for who he was, while McDermott pretended to be something else. Then after graduation, he’d been sure they would move in together to somewhere they wouldn’t have to hide; but then he found out that McDermott still intended to become a priest in a denomination in which they wouldn’t be allowed to be together. He was lying to everyone to protect a man who wouldn’t stand up for him. In the short time he and Hunter had been friends, Hunter had done more to protect Casey than McDermott ever had.
Deleting McDermott from the phone was easier than Casey had thought it would be, as was ignoring the half a dozen text messages that confirmed the only reason McDermott had been calling was to tell Casey that it wasn’t a good idea to go to the reunion. Casey just wished he would’ve deleted the number and blocked McDermott weeks ago. Then again, he thought, if he were to be completely honest, if the phone call hadn’t interrupted he and Hunter, would that have really been a good thing? He doubted they would’ve gone all the way, but he was nearly positive that the night would’ve ended in at least a hand job, maybe some oral, and how freaked out would Hunter have been by that?
He was grateful Hunter was a man of his word, following through with the promise he’d made to go to the reunion. But what about afterward? Would Hunter hold what had happened against Casey? What would it mean for their friendship? For Casey’s living situation?
Casey stared out the window, watching cars pass. He could see Hunter looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn. He didn’t know what he’d see, and wasn’t sure if he could take whatever he did see there. Disdain. Disgust. Horror. He couldn’t take it if he saw any of those things on Hunter’s face.
Hunter cleared his throat a few times and then did something Casey didn’t expect.
He put his hand on top of Casey’s and gripped it.
Then he lifted it to his lips and gave it a kiss.