BA Tortuga - Stormy Weather 01 - Rain and Whiskey.pdf - Stormy Weather - chillipi

Rain and Whiskey

written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information

address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

ISBN: 0-9762384-6-2

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press electronic edition / March 2005

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

http://www.torquerepress.com

Rain and Whiskey

By BA Tortuga

Chapter One

Man, the joint was rocking -- the new band loud enough to make the bar mats vibrate all along his

legs and up through his balls. Jake and Lee both fucking showed up and were working -- Miss Lynn

must've torn them new assholes after their last little Saturday night stunt -- pricks.

Shane grabbed a bottle of Cuervo and started pouring a round of shots, laughing at Vic's lame assed

joke about titty bars and avoiding old man Robert's roving hands, all the time moving to the music,

knowing his ass in those jeans in the big mirror behind the bar? Money in the bank, baby.

Everybody who was anybody stopped by, chatted him up a second, grinning and trying to talk over

the music. Jake kept giving him that 'how do you do that' stupid-ass, monkey-face look. Shit, he'd

been tending bar here for a good long time -- since Spring Break in '95. He'd come down to play

with a couple three baby-faces from college and sorta stuck in the sand and the surf and the good life.

He was thinking he'd not go home after his shift tonight. He liked the crowd, liked the band, got his

booze for free. And that way he wouldn't have to deal with that... smell in his apartment.

Whatever the hell it was.

"Can I get a whiskey?" He could hear that voice right through the music, maybe because it had a

drawl that wouldn't quit. Brown eyes, cowboy hat pulled low, and tall enough to lean right over the

bar.

Oh, hello.

"Sure enough. You got a preference to type?" Oh, now, that was just fine enough to lick off a spoon.

"I'm not picky. Jack is fine." Fine and looking right back, too. Those sloe eyes went from his face to

the mirror behind him and back, not a bit shy.

He flipped the bottle, singing along with the band, distracted by tall, fine and studly enough that old

man Roberts managed to sneak a feel of his pecs. "Watch yourself, man. You know the rules -- Miss

Lynn don't allow that at the bar."

"Thanks. He do that a lot?" The fella nodded toward their pervy old fixture, hat just dipping.

"Yeah, he tries. Was better when Keith was here. Kid had a nipple ring and kept him busy." He

winked, pulling his rag from his back pocket, wiping the bar down.

Rain and Whiskey

"Well, I can see why he'd be after yours." Well, now, that was bold as brass and twice as shiny. Shane

flexed a little, knowing that he managed just fine, even after a full shift and a shitload of beer splashed

on him. Shifting, Mr. Brown Eyes looked down the bar then back at him. "You working all night?"

"Nah. I'm off in..." He craned his neck to see the clock, back popping as he stretched. "Eighteen

minutes."

"Good." There was a wealth of satisfaction in that single word. "You want to do something when you

get off, you come on over to the corner over there." And the guy was gone, turning and showing him

a fine, fine ass in Levi's on the way.

Fuck, he was easy as ‘Come to Jesus’ in whole notes.

He did his side-work and got his share of the tips before slipping upstairs and stripping off his black

t-shirt, throwing on something whiter and nicer, grabbing his own hat before bebopping back down

the stairs. Sure enough, his admirer was right where he said he'd be, sitting in one of the cushy old

chairs in the corner farthest from the bar, kicked back, legs spread wide and feet planted. Watching

him.

He resisted the urge to smooth his shirt down, nudge his too-interested prick and tell it to be good.

No, he moseyed over, chatting a bit, tipping his hat a little. Looking at Fine and Sexy a lot from

under the brim of his hat.

Well, he might be feigning a little disinterest, but there wasn't any playacting on the other end of that

stare. It was like a laser, cutting through the gloom and the smoke and the dance floor lights, just like

a physical touch. And fuck if he didn't just head right over, moth to the flame, body buzzing like he'd

had a hit of something wacky.

"Hey." Nodding to the chair next to him, the guy looked him over again, and damn. Obviously the

once over he'd gotten at the bar had been restrained, because this one made him feel naked, and half-

fucked to boot. He got offered a hand to shake. "I'm Galen."

"Shane. Pleased." His own Tennessee upbringing started to show a little, sort of like the heat in his

jeans, which was starting to show a lot.

"Yeah. Same here." They shook hello, Galen holding onto his hand a good bit longer than he should,

which should have been a predictable as old man Roberts was, but came off as hot instead. There was

something about the press, the slow circle that thumb drew on the heel of his hand that sent messages

straight to his privates. "So is this the best watering hole down this way?"

"Well, I'm thinking so. There's pricier places, but nowhere you get booze and music and all together.

You here for vacation?"

"Nope. I bought old man Dewey's bait shop. He was a friend of my great uncle's." If he moved just a

bit closer his leg would nudge Galen's knee, and damned if he couldn't feel the heat of the man, even

that far away.

"No shit?" He stretched, letting the motion slide them together. "I've been down that way a lot."

"Yeah? It's right nice." Galen's knee nudged his leg, bouncing to the rhythm of the music, sliding

suggestively.

Rain and Whiskey

His eyes traveled right along the seam of those jeans, following them straight to Heaven. "Yeah

buddy."

That got him a grin, bright and hot. Lord, that was lethal, lighting up Galen's eyes and putting

dimples in the close-cropped little beard. "Wanna go there now?"

"Oh, yeah. I want." Gotta love a man who didn't bullshit.

"Well, come on then." Galen got up and waited for him, gesturing for him to lead the way out. He

stood, heading for the door, knowing that those brown eyes were on his ass, feeling them.

Once they got outside he felt a hand on his ass, too, sliding against it gently to turn him the right

direction.

Oh, sweet Heaven. He swallowed his moan and followed along, the neon sign turning his shirt red

and purple. "You don't want me to just follow you in my Jeep?"

"Well, you can. But I'm not planning on being done with you until well into the morning. I can

drop you off." They got to a big diesel pick-up at the far end of the lot and Galen was on him,

turning him around and pushing him up against the warm metal of the wheel well. He got a kiss that

curled his toes, his hat flying off into the bed of the truck.

He groaned, pushing right into it, heat flooding him. He didn't back off at all, hands rubbing right

up that fine fucking body. Galen was built like a brick shit house, muscles under his hands just

bulging. Something else was bulging, and it wasn't just him, Galen's hardness pressing against his

hip, open long thigh sliding between his legs to press against his own cock, making it rub hard

behind his zipper.

He rode that thigh, their teeth clicking together as the kiss lit him afire, burned him down deep. The

kiss tasted like whiskey and smoke and copper suddenly as someone's lip split under the pressure of

it.

His hands curled into Galen's shirt, fingers pushing into those hard-as-fuck muscles, hips rocking

faster, harder. Shit, they were both gonna go off right there in the parking lot, the way they were

going. Galen's hands slid between him and the truck to cup his ass and lift him, his feet leaving the

ground as Galen humped against him. He wrapped one leg around Galen's waist, bootheel digging

into that fine ass.

"Uhn." That got him a grunt, got him shifted around until his hips were pressed right up against

Galen's, their cocks pushing together through their jeans, and Galen upped the tempo, just pounding

against him.

"Fuck!" His eyes went wide, balls tight as little stones. "Gonna. Fuck."

"Yeah. Yeah, now." Galen's lips were swollen from kissing him, those dark eyes almost black. "Now."

It felt like fucking lightning shot through him, cock filling his jeans like he was a virgin under the

bleachers with the quarterback.

"Fuck, yeah." He wasn't the only one, because Galen's narrow hips pumped against him, and

BA Tortuga - Stormy Weather 01 - Rain and Whiskey.pdf

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