Friday Night Jamie

by Bren Christopher

  “What’s your name?” He had to put his mouth right next to my ear so I could hear him over the noise and the beat.

  “James,” I answered. “Jamie.”

  “I’m Matt. I always feel it’s polite to get a guy’s name before I fuck him silly. Don’t you agree? Maybe even buy him a drink. You want something from the bar?”

  I stared at him. I wondered if I had heard what he said correctly over the thumping music. I decided to let it pass. If I said anything smart-ass, he might decide not to fuck me silly, and the heat in my groin told me that just wasn’t acceptable at this point in the evening. “Um, okay. Probably don’t need another one, but what the hell? It’s been a long week.”

  His hand slipped down into mine, and our fingers entwined. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, unexpected. He pulled me toward the bar. Art and his buddies watched me go with smirks on their faces and exhortations to “use protection!” I rolled my eyes at them.

  We found one seat left at the end of the bar, where at least it was a little quieter. I sat down while Matt stood in front of me and edged a knee between my legs, pushing them apart. One hand rested on my thigh while he sipped his beer. The hand on my thigh worked its way back to rest on my hip again. It seemed to think it belonged there.

  He set his beer down and ran his hand around the back of my head, leaned close, and licked my lower lip. “You had some Coke there,” he murmured. The lips were warm, like his hands and his eyes. I could feel my breath getting faster. His mouth brushed mine again, a light kiss that left me wanting more.

  I licked my own lips, tasting him, watching him watch my mouth. “Matt,” I said. “That’s short for Matthew, right?” He nodded. “I haven’t seen you in here before, Matt, and I’m here most Friday nights.” I was sure I would have noticed him.

  He shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “I don’t go out much, but it’s my friend Susie’s twenty-first birthday, and she wanted to go dancing, so here I am. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on her and her friends.”

  I raised my eyebrows and looked around.

  He grinned. “I know; I’m not doing a very good job, am I? I got a little sidetracked, but whose fault is that?”

  I snorted. “Don’t blame me if you’re easily distracted.” I slowly let my hand wander up under his shirt, feeling those firm abs jump a little under my touch.

  His hand slid from my hip to brush lightly between my legs, feeling the hardness there for a moment and making me shiver at the touch. Moving his hand up to thread his fingers through my hair, he pulled me in to meet his full, firm lips. There was nothing rushed about the kiss, just a long, leisurely, but very thorough exploration of my mouth, tongue sliding in deep with no hesitation. By the time we came up for air, my face was flushed, and my heart was racing.

  I tried to catch my breath. “Damn, you can kiss, can’t you?”

  “Been wanting to do that since I saw you walk in the door. You have a sweet mouth, Jamie, and I’ve been thinking about all the things we could do with that mouth.” He was flushed too, and desire made his eyes even darker. He spoke in my ear, “Come home with me, please. Let’s go. Now.”

  “No.”

  He pulled back, looking surprised. It was evident that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. “Then we’ll go to your place. That’s fine with me.”

  “No.”

  I looked away quickly to hide the jolt of nervousness that shot through me at his casual suggestion. The thought of taking a complete stranger to my apartment—my safe haven—filled me with anxiety. I would never allow anyone I didn’t really know into my home if I could help it; my place was too important to me.

  He must have caught a glimpse of my sudden uneasiness, because his hand lingered on my cheek, and then he reached up to push a few short blond curls out of my eyes. “Come on, babe. I know you’re interested. Did I say something wrong? Tell me what you want.”

  Just then the music changed to a mellow song that I liked. It had a good, steady beat, perfect for a slow grind. I grabbed his hand, relieved to find an excuse to end that awkward moment. “I want to dance some more.” I pulled him toward the music. He followed a little reluctantly, looking as if he wanted to ask me again if he’d said something wrong. Determined to cover up that brief moment of vulnerability, I gave him my brightest, sexiest smile. I don’t think I fooled him—those lovely dark eyes were too sharp—but he let it drop.

  Once on the floor, he put his hands back on my hips, and I leaned into him. My face fit perfectly into the juncture where neck met shoulder, and I bit him lightly, feeling him respond with a shiver. After nibbling my way up his neck, I sucked on his earlobe and heard a groan.

  Our hard cocks brushed together as his hands slipped down to rest on my butt and pull me in. I worked my way around from his earlobe to those firm, sculpted lips, wanting another taste, another of those long kisses. He met me with a moan, the kiss not so leisurely this time, harder and more passionate.

  “Jamie,” he murmured into my ear, “you’re driving me crazy here. Is that the plan? Tell me what you want before I come right here on the dance floor.”

  I nudged a knee between his legs. He was hard as steel. I even felt a spot of wetness on the front of his jeans. I decided he was ready to go with me without too much objection.

  I took his hand and led him toward the back exit of the club. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

  “A walk? Now?” He sounded incredulous, but he followed along.

  Exiting to the alley behind the club, I could hear that we were not alone. Heavy breathing and murmured encouragements from the shadows by the Dumpster prompted me to lead Matt farther into the alley until we came to an area deep in shadow. I put my back to the brick wall and pulled him to me. The alley might be a little sordid, but at least there were people around, and the possibility of a quick escape, if it should ever come to that. He came willingly enough, pressing the full length of that hard body against mine and giving me another long, searing kiss that practically knocked the breath out of me. His hands reached around to cup the cheeks of my butt, squeezing and kneading. He murmured into my ear, “You’re sure this is what you want? We’d be a whole lot more comfortable in my bed.”

  I started to push him off. “Well, if you’re not interested…”

  He shoved me back against the wall, laughing. “Oh, so now you’re the bastard tease.”

  He took my mouth again, licked my lips, and slowly moved in to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid in along mine, and I responded, back arching, my hands buried in his brown hair, pulling him closer as his mouth devoured mine.

  He pushed against me, cock grinding against cock, and I let out a little gasp at the suddenness. Reaching down to stroke him through his jeans, I ran my hand up and down his rather impressive length as he pushed into me. He bit my earlobe, and I shivered again. He undid just the top button of my pants and slipped his hands inside, then around and down the back, rubbing and squeezing. “Nice,” he murmured. “Love that ass.”

  My hands slid down the back of his jeans, and I pulled him close until we were grinding together again. “You’ve got a great ass too. How do you know I don’t want to top? I do sometimes, you know.”

  He pulled back and looked at me intently. “I’m sure you do, but that’s not what you want tonight.”

  “And why do you say that?” I asked in a teasing voice, my hands wandering along his length.

  He backed off a little, putting some space between us. Then he leaned in, and his lips brushed that sensitive spot under my ear. I gasped and arched my head back, begging him without words to kiss my neck. He did slowly, lightly, making me shiver again. His hands finished unbuttoning my jeans, then slipped down the front and brushed my balls and the sensitive strip of skin between scrotum and hole. One finger moved back, rubbing the crease, then penetrating deeper and teasing my opening. I pushed back against him, wanting more. I let out a muffled moan as a second finger joined the first and pushed in deeper.

&n
bsp; “Oh wait, you’re not sure you want me to fuck you. I forgot.” He started to back off, and I hooked my hand around his arm to stop him from pulling his hand away.

  “You really are a bastard. You know that?” Desire made my voice low and thick. Despite my admittedly all too frequent visits to this alley, I hadn’t felt this level of arousal in a long time. The heat in his hands radiated straight to my cock every time he touched me. The feeling made me ache to be stretched and filled.

  He brushed his lips against my ear and murmured, “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how you want it, right now.”

  He moved his other hand to my front, lightly rubbing my cockhead until I twisted with the sensations filling my hole, the light kisses on my neck, and the teasing of my cock; it was too much but not nearly enough. I gripped his waist, tried to pull him closer, but he pulled back again. “Tell me.”

  He was pissing me off. “Fuck me right through this wall.” I practically hissed it.

  I could feel the silent laughter against my neck. “I’ll do that, but first I need to feel that sweet mouth of yours.” He stepped back and pressed on my shoulders, not forcing but urging me to my knees. I went willingly enough, eager to get closer to that bulge in the front of his jeans. I reached for his zipper, but he stopped me and slipped one hand tightly into my hair, holding my face just in front of his groin.

  My hands gripped his strong thighs. He pressed my face into his crotch, and I rubbed and nipped through the rough denim fabric. He reached down and slowly undid his zipper, freeing his cock just in front of my mouth.

  “Lick my balls.” He lifted them up with his hand, and I eagerly laved them with my tongue. He smelled good, tasted good: masculine and earthy and unique. He sighed, and I felt him get even harder as I licked up and down his shaft and then sucked his balls one at a time. He stroked my hair and murmured, “Now that is a beautiful sight.”

  He slipped the condom out of his pocket, ripped the foil, and had it over his shaft in one quick motion. Holding my head, he thrust deeply into my mouth, and I took him as far as I could, lips tightening and sucking. Mmm…peppermint. Thoughtful of him.

  His breath came faster, and he gripped my hair with both hands, thrusting. I swirled my tongue around the tip, caressing the sensitive area just under his slit. I reached for my own cock jutting up out of my jeans, wanting to give it some attention while he got his, but he stopped me, knocking my hand aside with one boot. “Not yet. That’s for me to do.”

  I let out a groan with his cock still in my mouth, and he must have felt the vibration, because he gasped, then pulled me up. “I’d like to leave you down there, but you’re too good at it, and I don’t think I’m going to last. I believe I did promise to fuck you through the wall, and I’m a man of my word.”

  I leaned back against the cold brick, and he pushed my jeans down to my ankles. I kicked off one sneaker and slipped out of that pants leg altogether.

  I pulled him toward me, and he slipped a hand under my knee, lifting my bare leg and pressing me back. The fingers of his other hand were lubed up—when had he done that?—and pushing into my hole, two fingers and then three, scissoring, reaching deep.

  My hands clutched his soft, thick hair, pulling as I twisted and bucked against him, trying to get more. His mouth was on my neck, kissing and licking.

  “You ready for me, Jamie?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Damn, you talk a lot,” I said impatiently. “I’ve been ready!” I could feel that silent laugh again. Then suddenly his hands were gone, and I made a little whimpering noise and then winced. Couldn’t believe that sound came from my own throat, but there it was. I needed him in me, and I moved my hands down to his ass, pulling him toward me, to show him that. He didn’t keep me waiting; one slow, smooth thrust, and he was buried to the root. I gasped with the sudden fullness and the burn. He held still and murmured, “You okay, baby?”

  I pushed against him. “Move, damn it!”

  He snorted, gripped my hips, pulled almost all the way out, and then thrust in again hard. I groaned and felt my back scraping against the brick. He started pounding into me with a steady, deep rhythm. He changed the angle slightly a few times until he found my prostate deep inside. He definitely knew when he found it because I let out a moan, and my back arched again. After that, it was all pounding rhythm and heat.

  I shifted to move one hand down, but he gripped my wrist and moved it back up silently. Then he put his own hand on my cock and started jerking me off in time to his thrusting. The tight, rough grip felt almost excruciating; intensely pleasurable and yet just on the edge of painful. He kissed my neck again, burying his face in the angle where neck met shoulder. A sudden sharp bite, an extra squeeze during a really deep thrust, and I went over the edge. Crying out, I pressed my face in his hair, not wanting to be heard too far down the alley. My cock spasmed again and again, spilling fluid over his hand. I contracted tightly around him as I came, drawing a deep grunt from him as his body stiffened and stilled, his shaft pulsing deep inside me for a long moment before he collapsed against me.

  “Damn,” he gasped. “Damn, Jamie, what an ass. You’re just gorgeously fuckable.”

  I smiled, panting into his hair. It was good to feel so wanted, but I didn’t need him to see me smiling. He seemed to have a big enough ego as it was.

  His arms tightened around me, holding me up, as I was feeling boneless all over. We stood and panted together for a moment, and then he slipped his softening cock out, leaving me with an empty feeling. He took care of the condom, fastened his pants, and helped me straighten my clothes.

  The feeling of bliss afterward tends to make me rather sleepy and affectionate. That and the alcohol compelled me to slip my arms around his neck, and he drew me in for a deep, slow, and final kiss.

  “Jamie, can I see you again? Maybe go on a real date? There are so many things I still want to do to you.”

  A pause, and I struggled to think straight. For a moment I felt tempted to break my rules. But the thought of seeing him again, of letting him get to know me and the risk of rejection that would necessarily entail—it all seemed a bit too frightening. Far safer to leave it at one good encounter—just a pleasant memory to relive late at night in my quiet bed. A little reluctantly, but knowing it was best for both of us, I made my decision. “It was great, really great, but no. I don’t date guys I pick up in bars. It’s just a rule I have.”

  Silence for a long moment. “You don’t know anything about me. I don’t know anything about you. But it’s obvious we’re pretty hot for each other. How do you know it wouldn’t work out if we spent some time together?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he seemed like the kind of guy who could be pretty persistent if not told no in a firm and clear voice. Finally I said, “Sorry, you’re just not what I’m looking for right now. Maybe I’ll see you around, okay?”

  I pulled away and headed back into the club to find Art. I didn’t look forward to the ribbing he would no doubt give me about the dirt on the knees of my jeans, but he was my ride home. I didn’t see him anywhere, so I headed for the bar, thinking I would get one more drink and sip it until Art showed. He wouldn’t have left without letting me know. He was probably on the dance floor, or maybe he had found his own back-alley date.

  Settling at the bar, I had almost finished my fourth or possibly fifth drink of the evening when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned around to stare in disbelief. Surely it was some kind of violation of protocol for the guy you had just fucked and then blown off to actually follow you back into a club?

  He must have seen what I was thinking on my face because he stepped back and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Whoa, buddy, don’t go call the stalking police just yet. I got the message. You’re not interested. I just saw that your friends aren’t around, and I wanted to know if I could get you a cab. You didn’t drive here, did you? If you did, I hope you weren’t planning on driving home.” He stared pointedly at the drink in my
hand. “How many is that, anyway?”

  Now I felt really annoyed. “Are you my daddy? Is that what you want, to take care of me?” I stuck my face in close to his, almost nose to nose. “No, you’re not much older than me. Can’t be my daddy. My sugar daddy, maybe?” I snorted. “No, don’t think you can be that either. What do you do for a living, anyway?”

  He looked at me coolly. “I’m between jobs at the moment.”

  I almost choked on my drink and started laughing. I think he was a bit offended.

  He said, his voice a little harsh, “Is that what you’re looking for? A sugar daddy? That’s why you’re not interested in anything more than a quick fuck?”

  That made me angry. I got up and poked my finger indignantly right into his chest to emphasize my words. “I do not need a sugar daddy. I’ve got a good job, and I’ve worked hard to get it.” I kept poking him in the chest with every word, and he stood his ground. “I put myself through school, no help from anyone, and I’m doing just fine on my own, thank you very much!”

  He seemed amused again. “You’re more drunk now than when we were in the alley.”

  I sat down heavily, almost missing the stool. For some reason, this struck me as very funny. I laughed hard. “I know. But that’s what we’re here for, right? To have fun?” I grinned again at the mention of the alley. “And we did have fun, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, we did.” Something I couldn’t read flickered in his dark eyes. “So if you’re not looking for a sugar daddy, what are you looking for?”

  I frowned. An out-of-work stranger with long hair—no matter how hot—did not fulfill the criteria required of any man I might actually want to risk seeing more than once. Keith Brooks, on the other hand…

  I didn’t owe this stranger an explanation. We had both gotten what we wanted, and there was no obligation for anything further. But he did ask, and I’m a terrible liar at the best of times, and it’s impossible when I’m drunk. “I want somebody on his way up, a good-looking guy with a good profession and some ambition.”