Julia McBryant
Neon Saturday Night: Audie and Calhoun 2
Low Country Lovers 2
Copyright © 2019 by Julia McBryant
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Julia McBryant asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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Hey Moofax, this bitch is for you, your garage, and your triple-backed, security-coded, impenetrable hard drive. You’ll always be my Penny.
No story is a straight line.
— Pat Conroy, “Beach Music”
Contents
Foreword
Acknowledgement
Neon Saturday Night
Here We Fucking Are
The Sharks Create The Ocean
Epilogue
I Wish I Were Special Excerpt
About the Author
Also by Julia McBryant
Foreword
As usual, all stories are written in Southern dialect, which may be unfamiliar to the readers; none of the characters are meant to sound like lower-class hicks. This is how people from the South talk. Oh yeah: and that Confederate flag bikini is real, y’all.
Acknowledgement
Thanks, Bear, for pinch-hit editing this one, along with Elli, and Trish, and Jean, and a teensy bit of help from Bob. Go team!
Neon Saturday Night
When Calhoun discovers Audie has never been to Myrtle Beach, he insists on a weekend road trip. “I’ll drive up to Columbia and we can take the Porsche,” he says. “I’ve never been and you’ve never been and they have the highest concentration of putt-putt per square mile in the whole world, did you know that? We have to go.”
“Are you kidding me?” Audie laughs.
“We can play mini-golf all weekend. It’ll be awesome.”
Audie agrees because he loves Calhoun. Even though he hates golf, at least the real kind. He’s never played mini-golf in his life.
They drive way too fast down I-20 as the sun sets on Thursday, the perfect getaway run, because they have a red Porsche with open windows and a golden April sky, because they’re twenty years old and in love. David Bowie blares over the slipstream. They both know all the words. Audie and Calhoun hold hands and let “Ziggy Stardust” talk for them, “Under Pressure” and “Modern Love.” Audie wants to cry with the perfect escape of it.
Onto I-95 and off some bumfuck exit into Florence. Calhoun says Audie shouldn’t say that, it’s a gay slur. Audie roars and says no, it’s a reference to Deliverance. Plus it’s a damn good word to describe the middle of fucking nowhere. Trust Calhoun not to get a Deliverance reference. And to avoid saying “fuck.” Audie kisses him on the fly, eyes still on the road, because he’s so adorable.
Finally onto 501, through the unfortunately named town of Aynor, which they have to say over and over and crack up. Down through Conway, where Audie’s heard the real tourist stuff starts: antique shops and saltwater taffy ads and boiled peanut signs, billboards that urge people to GET SOUVENIRS HERE. Soon the inevitable beach stores begin, alternating Eagles and Wings, that Calhoun says sell the exact same vacation supplies, the T-shirts and flip-flops and chairs and sunscreen and shark-tooth necklaces. They bump over the narrow strip of intracoastal waterway into Waccamaw County, named for some long-lost native tribe. Their ghosts haunt South Carolina, leaving only traces of forgotten arrowheads and melodic names: Congaree, Santee, Cheraw, Edisto. Then the real neon starts: the pawn shops, the gun stores, the cheap tattoo parlors. Audie gazes around, appalled. His parents would die if they saw him here. Not that he cares what his parents think. But they’re emblematic of a kind of Charlestonian thought, and that thought says they have entered Southern trailer trash hell.
“We’re here!” Calhoun squeals.
“God save us from the South,” Audie replies. “Father fuck me, there’s an ad for Medieval Times. And Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.”
“We have to go there,” Calhoun almost pants. “They have an aquarium.”
“Shark phobia.”
“Oh, yeah. Look! PIRATE GOLF!”
They turn briefly onto highway 17 then cruise onto the strip, a length of slow-moving traffic paralleling the beach. Bars and bad restaurants line both sides of the road, abutting cheap souvenir shops and sleazy dance clubs, arcades and tattoo parlors. “Christ on a motherfucking mountain, that store has a Confederate flag bikini hanging in the window,” Audie says.
“I think you can get a tattoo there too,” Calhoun says helpfully. “And a piercing.”
“Jesus fuck,” Audie says.
“Aw, c’mon, it’s fun,” Calhoun tells him.
They crawl along until they reach the end of the strip: an enormous hotel lit up purple in the night. Bright, fuck-me, the-Artist-Formerly-Known-As-Prince purple. “Oh. My. God,” Audie says. “I’m running out of blasphemy, Calhoun.” His friends would never let him hear the end of this if they knew.
“Shut up, we have the penthouse and there’s a lazy river. I love lazy rivers. You just sit on a tube with your sunglasses on and go around and around and it’s so awesome.”
Calhoun handles the check-in while Audie valets the car. They take the elevator up to an enormous suite with a bar full of complimentary minibottles and white everything. The door shuts and Audie has Calhoun against the wall. Then he doesn’t give a fuck about trashy neon or purple hotels or Confederate flag bikinis. This is why Audie came to Myrtle Beach.
“I haven’t gotten you alone yet,” Audie says. He lets himself suck Calhoun’s pulse point for a moment, and Calhoun shivers under him. “Do you know what a long fucking drive that was with you next to me?”
“Long,” Calhoun says, his voice a little ragged. “Very long.”
“Three fucking hours worth of long, honey,” Audie says, his lips an inch from Calhoun’s ear, his breath hot. Honey. Christ, he still can’t believe he says this stuff, even after almost a year. But every time he sees Calhoun, it flows from him more naturally. By now he isn’t sure he cares. “Do you know how much I wanted to see if I could jerk you off and drive at the same time?” Deliberately, Audie grinds against Calhoun’s cock; Calhoun bucks back. When Audie rakes his teeth against the sensitive skin behind his ear, Calhoun shivers again.
“Should I make you get on the bed?” Audie asks. He nips at Calhoun’s neck. They’re only going back to school; no one will care if he leaves marks. “
Or should I turn you around and fuck you against the wall? Or make you get on top and ride me? Hmm? Or what if I’m mean, and you suck me off while I watch you jerk your cock? What should I do to you?”
“Do it hard,” Calhoun practically gasps. Which doesn’t really answer Audie’s question.
“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” Audie orders. Calhoun’ll get off harder if they do it missionary rather than against the wall, even if Audie loves him like that. He lets Calhoun up. “No,” Audie says as Calhoun starts toward the bedroom. “Clothes off here. I wanna watch.” Audie drains a minibottle of vodka while he stares. Calhoun knows by now what Audie wants. Button by button, eyes on the ground. His shirt flutters to the gray-patterned carpet, exposing his tanned chest. They’re always on the beach at College of Charleston. Then his belt, his fly and the button. Calhoun shimmies his hips and pushes down his shorts and boxers. They puddle around his Rainbows, and he steps out of everything. He’s wearing a smaller suit this year; his tan line’s higher than before. He trimmed down to almost nothing around his cock, and it looks like he shaved everything else. Audie can’t resist. As Calhoun stands with his eyes downcast, big cock jutting out, Audie tosses back another minibottle and strokes his balls. Calhoun whimpers and arches upward. Definitely shaved.
“Did you shave anywhere else?” Audie asks, dropping his voice deeper and lower.
Calhoun nods, flicks his doe eyes upward, then looks quickly down again.
“Let me feel,” Audie demands. He slips a hand back between Calhoun’s legs and ohgod, he did shave everything. “Weren’t you sweet?” Audie coos in his ear. “Weren’t you so good? Go get on the bed on your hands and knees for me.”
Audie digs the lube out of his bag and follows Calhoun into the bedroom, grabbing some washcloths on the way. Calhoun obediently gets up on the bed. Audie strips and kneels behind him as if he’s going to start working him open, then slicks Calhoun’s cock. Calhoun arches into his hand.
But instead of stroking him, Audie spreads him and kisses the small pucker of his ass. Calhoun moans. “You like that?” Audie asks.
“Yeah,” Calhoun manages. “That feels so good, Audie.”
Audie licks him hard. “What about that?”
Calhoun draws in a sharp breath. “That’s even better.”
Audie loves teasing him, but it’s not fair: they’ve been apart too long, and Calhoun’s too sweet. So he licks hard; Calhoun moans and spreads his legs. When he starts opening, Audie tongues that small hole gently, twisting in it, teasing it wider until he’s thrusting in and out. He sucks a finger wet and slips it into the first knuckle, then licks around it. Calhoun drips onto the comforter.
It’s easy, after that. Plenty of lube, slip his finger the rest of the way in and find that spot Calhoun loves, the one that makes him cry out nonsense. Audie pivots his finger and presses gently outwards to stretch him. Another finger, wait a little, fuck him with them. Then a third finger, harder for him to take but then he wants it so much. Soon Calhoun’s begging for Audie’s cock, which Audie’s been messing with since he started licking Calhoun.
“Flip over,” Audie says. “You want it?”
“Please?” Calhoun asks. “Please, Audie?
“Tell me how much you want it.”
“Please fuck me, Audie. Fuck me with your hard cock, I know you’re so big and hard, fuck me please,” Calhoun whimpers.
Hearing him beg never gets old — when they’re apart, Audie jerks off thinking of the things Calhoun says in bed. He slicks himself and probably enjoys it too much, just listening to Calhoun plead for his cock. Calhoun grabs a pillow and situates it under his ass, then spreads his legs. Audie loves him that way, legs apart and asking for it. He starts the slow slide into that tight little entrance, and doesn’t stop, even though Calhoun gasps a little and starts breathing deep. They decided a long time ago that it’s better if, as his boyfriend says, “You go really really slow and don’t stop.” Audie looks down at the regular miracle of it, the idea that Calhoun wants him, that Calhoun opens for him, that he fits, oh he fits so well into that tight little ring; it grabs him and clutches at his cock, the muscles ridged on his soft head, slipping up and over and then abruptly down onto his shaft. Then the warm smoothness, slicked by so much lube. He slips inside until Calhoun cries out: a good cry. After almost a year, Audie is learning him, learning to tell the difference between good and bad, between keep going and too much and stop. He nestles against that spot and lies on top of his boyfriend. Calhoun’s nipples have hardened against him. His cock — ohgod his cock feels slick against Audie’s belly.
“You tell me when you want it,” Audie whispers. “You’re so gone for my thick cock in your ass, aren’t you?”
“Audie, please fuck me, I’ll come so hard, you don’t have to touch my cock and I’ll come so hard on you.”
The idea of Calhoun shooting onto his belly — god, so good after so long. Audie begins rocking on him, hitting that good spot, twisting his hips and rubbing at it. So hard to go slow, so hard not to thrust and fuck and take him hard. But he wants Calhoun to like it, to shiver and shake and come in his arms. “More,” Calhoun begs. “Please more, Audie.”
Thank god. Audie fucks him harder, always careful to touch that spot, to press and stroke against it. He grabs Calhoun under his shoulders, wraps his arms around to the front of them and kisses him, demanding and rough. His cock matches that same sense of urgency. Calhoun breaks off and starts to babble nonsense; Audie buries his forehead into his neck and thrusts harder. Calhoun’s tautening, his balls drawing up as they slap together. Audie feels that familiar pull of a climax. He teeters deliciously on the edge, knowing it’s coming, those perfect few moments when it’s going to happen but it hasn’t quite, not yet, then he tumbles over the edge, spilling hot into Calhoun. Calhoun shouts, grabs him, curls a little and shoots between their bellies, that lovely stickiness pumping again and again. They thrust, lost in something both together and apart. Audie’s hardly aware of his teeth sinking into Calhoun’s shoulder.
“Oh god,” Calhoun says when they finish. He flops back, boneless and limp. “Oh god. Get out of me, it’s too much. Oh god.”
Audie laughs a little and slides out carefully. “That good, huh?” He wipes himself off, then Calhoun.
“Needed that,” Calhoun says, curling into Audie’s chest, his voice dreamy and sleepy. “Been too long.”
“Three weeks is too much,” Audie agrees.
Audie plays with Calhoun’s long hair, getting longer, past his shoulders now. “Hippie boy,” Audie teases. “Everyone’s gonna think you smoke pot soon.”
Calhoun rolls his eyes. No one is less likely to smoke up than Calhoun, Audie’s found. “Your curls are longer.” Calhoun tugs at them and begins untangling them from the wind on the drive. Audie stretches out. He loves when Calhoun messes with his hair.
“This is why I came to Myrtle Beach,” he says. “We can just stay up here til Sunday morning. We have our own hot tub. Fuck the rest of this tackiness. If the room service blows we can order pizza.”
“No,” Calhoun says firmly. “We are playing putt-putt and going to the lazy river and having a good time.”
“A good time,” Audie says, turning to him, “is not girls in Confederate flag bikinis and blinding neon. It’s sitting up here and playing with you.” He nips Calhoun on the neck. Usually that melts him into submission. Audie does not want putt-putt. Audie wants to keep Calhoun up here like a goddamn princess in a tower and cover him in bite marks.
“You,” Calhoun says, “are being a snob. Let people like what they like. You like people. I’ve never seen you be rude to a living soul.”
Audie snorts.
“Some people like Ripley’s Believe It Or Not and Jurassic Putt.”
“Hate to break it to you, honey,” Audie says, nipping him again, “but I’m not one of them.”
“You only think you shouldn’t like that stuff. You never tried it. You,” Calhoun says, “are afraid of wh
at people would think if you liked it.”
Audie doesn’t give a flying fuck if Calhoun’s right. Audie wants to stay up here, far from the maddening crowds of drunk sorority sisters and tattooed bikers. So fucking what if he doesn’t want to like minigolf? He wants to like Calhoun, and the good smell of his hair, and the feel of his arms clenched around him while they fuck. This is the story he wants from this weekend: I drove and drove and stayed in a room with my boyfriend while the world went on without us.
Calhoun returns to playing with Audie’s hair. Audie nuzzles his neck. Calhoun smells good, like that black licorice he munched the whole drive. Audie wonders if Calhoun could go again so soon. He could, if they were patient about it.
“No neon and shark tooth necklaces,” he whispers. “Stay here and play with me.” Audie lets his fingers trail down Calhoun’s belly. “Will you get hard if I pet you? I think you will.”
“Stop it.” Calhoun smacks his hand. “I wanted to play putt-putt and eat funnel cake and have a good time and you’re ruining it, Audie.”
Audie sighs. Calhoun always wins, and Audie suspects Calhoun knows he always wins. “We’ll play putt-putt and eat funnel cake and do whatever you want, Calhoun,” he says.
Calhoun smiles. “We’ll have so much fun, Audie. I promise.” He turns and fits himself as the little spoon, then pulls Audie’s arm over him. “I love you. And if you just stop worrying about what people will think, I swear you’ll have a good time.”
Audie rolls his eyes.
“Stop rolling your eyes,” Calhoun says.
“How do you know I rolled my eyes? You can’t see me.”
“I know you.”
Audie bites his neck. Audie fucking loves to bite Calhoun.
Calhoun makes a small sound and nuzzles his ass against Audie.
“See?” Audie says. He kisses this time, and his fingers trail over Calhoun’s belly. “So much better. I can keep you here all weekend and make you feel good.”
Neon Saturday Night (Low Country Lovers Book 2) Page 1
