by BA Tortuga
Then you were in deep and sorta had to pray you weren’t drowning alone.
Chapter Five
GALEN SHRUGGED, settling his jacket nice and comfy. His cuffs showed perfectly a half an inch below the sleeves. Black silk jacket, open-collar shirt, his good jeans and boots, and his best black hat all made him look… like he was trying too hard.
Not that it mattered. He didn’t have time to change a hundred times like some beauty queen pageant host. He had all of about fifteen minutes to haul his ass into town and pick Shane up if they were gonna make their dinner reservation.
He wasn’t usually the fancy-restaurant type, and he was pretty damned sure Shane wasn’t either, but Galen’d gotten two free passes to the local country club from a developer who wanted part of Galen’s piece of swamp.
No way in all of the levels of hell was he gonna sell, but Galen took the passes with a smile and promptly asked Shane the next night if he wanted to go. They could get a nice meal on someone else, and Galen could take Shane out and show him off.
If he was pressed, he wouldn’t admit it, but there it was.
His trucked hummed right along the road, hugging the few curves, and Galen sang along with the radio, loud and strong. By the time he got to Shane’s, he’d forgotten his fashion emergency. Mostly.
He hopped out and headed up and knocked, then waited impatiently for Shane to open the door and get this over with.
Shane appeared like the best wet dream, blue eyes going wide. “Fuck, fuck, you’re fine.”
Shane wasn’t looking bad himself—a pale blue shirt hugging every inch of muscle, jeans pressed and dark, frock coat open and unbuttoned.
“Yeah? Well, you look like a better supper than a fancy country club can give me. I’d come in for a minute and show you, but then we’d be all wrinkled. And late.” Damn. Oh, damn, Shane looked good.
Shane grinned, twirled. “Reckon you should be pleased. It’s rare someone rates the coat.”
“I like it. ’Cept it hides your ass.” He had to. Just had to. Galen stepped into the open door and leaned down, tilting so he didn’t have to take off his hat to give Shane a kiss.
Shane’s fingers brushed against the hollow of his throat, petting, lips parting for him like butter under a heated knife. They kissed nice and deep and slow, barely touching but for their lips, but it scorched him to his boot heels. He pulled back, panting, looking at Shane’s red mouth with real regret. “We ought to get on.”
“Yep.” Shane’s tongue slipped out, wetting those pretty lips. “You promised to feed me.”
“I did. I will. Come on.” He was reduced to single syllables. Lord. Galen shook his head, offered his arm in an old-fashioned gesture, laughing as Shane took it.
Shane looked up, winked. “Man, you’re temptation walking. Who’s driving?”
“I will. I want to get there with my hat on.” They headed for his truck, Galen stroking Shane’s hand with his.
“It’s a nice hat.” Shane’s fingers curled around his, squeezing.
“I like it.” They got settled and got going, and Galen was grinning like a fool, pleased as anything about the way their little date was starting. Date. Yeah, he guessed that was what it was. He was a sap.
“You doing anything come Labor Day?” Shane fastened his seatbelt, settled.
“Not got any plans.” He glanced over at Shane. “What about you?”
“I work that Saturday, but Sunday and Monday I have off….”
“Yeah? We ought to go somewhere.” He made it sound casual-like. He didn’t want to assume anything, but damn, a few days at a beachfront hotel or something sounded good. Or they could even go up to New Orleans.
“Oh, that’d be cool. I could even take some vacation days, three or four. We’re slow then.” Shane nodded, grin spreading.
“That would be great.” Oh, hell, yes. Four or five days? Damn. The country club had a fancy gated entrance, and Galen laughed, pointing to it. “La-di-da.”
Shane winked over. “Hey, now… look it! We don’t even have to get out to unlock the gate!”
The laughter took them all the way past the sneering maître d’ and into the dining room, where they stood out like warts on a toad’s butt. Galen was used to it, though. Hell, in Minnesota, he’d been a regular freak show. “Want some fancy drinks?”
“Like anyone here can pour a shot like I can.” Shane grinned but nodded. “A rusty nail for me. I reckon this place has got good scotch.”
“You got it.” He wouldn’t want to do it all the time—he liked to be able to hang out with Shane—but this was nice. He could feel eyes on them, could feel disapproving as well as admiring stares, and it made him smile.
Shane looked around, meeting old ladies’ eyes, staring down the waiters. “Man, this place is something else.”
“No shit. I think I’ll have to tell Old Jerry I don’t want to join.” Galen winked, watching as the waiter opened his beer and set it down. He picked it up and toasted Shane. “Here’s to rednecks.”
“Hoo-boy.” Shane lifted his drink. “Give me a man in jeans any day.”
“I will when we get back to the house.” He flirted shamelessly, looking at Shane from under the hat he still hadn’t taken off, just to piss off the snooty old folks.
Shane ducked his head, pinked. “Oh, you do make the nicest promises.”
“I try. Wonder how the snapper is.” He nudged Shane’s ankle under the table, feeling all of fifteen.
“Fishy?” Shane chuckled, fingers sliding together, rubbing, teasing. “I’m thinking steak, myself. Meat. Cooked. Ugh. Og eat cow.”
Lord. He could use some meat of his own, but not steak. Galen swallowed hard, taking a sip of his fancy beer to clear his throat. “Maybe I ought to stick with the filet mignon, then.”
Shane’s eyes were bright, voice pitched low. “Too bad there’s not crawfish. We could suck head….”
“There’s always oysters.” His own ears heated, his cheeks tingling. Felt good. Real good.
“Like we need any help there, Len.”
“True enough.” Looked like so far there wasn’t anything he didn’t like doing with Shane, from fucking to drinking to fancy dinner. He was in trouble so big.
“So people pay to be able to come and pay for food here?”
“Yep. They get the golf course and the pool too, I guess.” Even the waiter was looking down his nose as they ordered, and Galen gave him a haughty look his momma would be proud of, sending the kid scurrying.
“Oh, that was nice. You looked plumb snooty.”
“Yeah. My momma? She’s got that old-money Southern look. I learned it from her.” He winked. “Too bad nothing else took.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You clean up pretty good….”
“You think so? I think you look better with no clothes at all.” Goddamn he was having fun.
Shane sure pinked pretty, throat to ears. “You think? You were liking me in ties well enough.” Oh, man. That pink went deep red.
“Yeah.” He lowered his voice, leaning forward over the table. “I liked you with that plug too. Would like to see you in clamps and a cock ring too.”
Those eyes went as wide as saucers, just looking at him, and Shane’s lips parted. Galen smiled, leaning back and sipping his beer. This was going better than he could have hoped. Shane already looked almost well-fucked, and Galen was so hard he hurt.
“That was cheating. I know it was.” Shane grinned, shook his head. “Damn.”
“Oh, were we playing by rules?” Damn. For the first time in a long time, Galen was disappointed when his steak showed up. Looked good, though. They’d have to stay for dessert, though, play a little more.
Shane dug in, chuckling. “There aren’t good old boy rules for this?”
“Are there?” That was one good steak. Looked like the country club had one thing going for them. The cook. “I like breaking the rules a little.”
“No…. Not you. Why, you’re arrow-straight….” Man, butter w
ouldn’t melt in the little smartass’s mouth.
“Oh, sure. I never even jaywalk. You little prick.” He laughed, scooping up some fluffy baked potato. Nice.
“Little? Hey, now…. You know what they say about us short guys having it where it counts….” Shane tore off a chunk of bread, buttered it.
If his mouth wasn’t full, he’d surely have a snappy comeback. Of course with food this tasty and company that fine, he didn’t really need it, so he simply chuckled. Shane winked and set to serious eating, munching down on the steak.
They were about done and ready to order dessert when some fancy-looking blond in a gray suit came right on up to their table. Galen thought they were maybe getting a visit from the manager until the guy smiled at Shane and called him by name, clapping him on the back.
“Well, hey there, stranger. I haven’t seen you since Hector was a pup.” Shane stood, shook the guy’s hand. “Man, you never come into the bar these days—a guy might think you didn’t adore him anymore….”
Galen sat, waiting for an introduction but not really wanting one. He wasn’t proud of it, but even just that handshake… well, it was making him have some serious no-touching-what’s-mine thoughts.
“I’ve been up in Miami, working. I’m home on vacation. You’re still tending bar, man?” The blond shook his head. “Damn, I tell you, come to Miami. I’m in sales. The way you look? You’d make a fortune.”
Shane snorted. “Right. I’m okay where I am, thanks. Oh, let me introduce you. This is Galen. Galen, this is….”
Shane got a little wide-eyed, but the blond stepped right in. “Jeff Green.”
“Galen Frost.” His momma’s voice screamed in his head as he stayed seated, offered his hand for only the briefest handshake. Jeff’s hand was smooth as a baby’s butt.
Jeff didn’t seem to worry about it, pulling out a business card and writing on it before slipping it in Shane’s front pocket, just like that. “You working tomorrow?”
“No, sir. Come see us Tuesday, if you’re around. I still make the best margaritas in the state.”
Or not. Galen stopped himself from growling with an impressive show of will. That was the second time the man had touched Shane. One more time and Galen was gonna clean his plow.
The blond wandered off and Shane settled back down, shaking his head. “Shit. That was lucky. I couldn’t remember that kid’s name for the life of me.”
That eased him a little, but he couldn’t help grumbling. Just a little. “Seemed awfully familiar to me. What do you say we get dessert to go?”
“Sure.” Shane tilted his head. “You okay?”
He blew out a short breath, summoning up a grin, wry as he suspected it was. “Jealous as hell.”
“Of what?” Shane looked honestly surprised, shocked. “Len, man, that kid’s a fiver in the tip jar. You? Something completely different.”
“Good.” Sighing, Galen sat back, letting his feet nudge Shane’s again. “Silly, I know. Just, when he touched you? Made me mad as anything.”
“You’ll have to touch and make sure he didn’t leave any cooties.”
That he could do. “Now that I’ll look forward to. Hell with this place. Let’s stop at the Dairy Queen on the way home and get ice cream.”
“Oh, Peanut Buster Parfaits? Fucking better than sex.” Shane winked, eyes teasing again, daring him.
“Then I’m doing something wrong, darlin’.” The tight feeling in his chest eased, and Galen was grateful. He wasn’t used to being so damned possessive. Shane was really something else. “Let me get the bill taken care of.”
“Should I leave a tip?” Shane’s cheeks were flushed again.
“Nah. We’re pretty well covered.” He got the snooty waiter over and settled the bill before getting up and nodding for Shane to come on. “Man, think what we could do with some chocolate sauce.”
“Oooh…. Len-cicle.” Shane chuckled, swatting his ass without bothering to hide the action, before hightailing it out the door.
He made tracks after that fine, fine man, looking forward to ice cream and some hot sex.
Chapter Six
HE’D STARTED going straight from work on Saturday night to Galen’s and staying until Monday night. Hell, sometimes until Tuesday morning, if they’d been busy. Shane liked it. He helped Len out with the bait shop, slept, fucked, fished.
He didn’t think too long about the whys or anything—Galen didn’t seem to mind, and he always brought food, beer. And it…. Well, it was the best part of his week, and if Galen didn’t want him there, Galen could say.
He grabbed the tacos and the beer from the back of the Jeep, pulled the spare key from his pocket, and opened Galen’s door, just in case. Man, he hated closing on Saturdays.
“Hey.” Galen was right there, sitting in the kitchen, wearing a pair of loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. “Was hoping you’d show up with a midnight snack.” He got a warm smile, Galen getting up to come meet him halfway.
“Tacos.” He took himself a good look. Fuck, Len was something else. “Looking good.”
“And you’re looking worn.” Galen stroked his cheek, thumb tracing under his eye. “’Course it’s nothing a weekend won’t fix, huh?” He got a kiss, deep and good.
He managed to get the bags put down before wrapping his arms around Galen’s shoulders, hips snuggling up close.
“Mmm. Now that’s nice.” He got to hold on for all of a minute or two before Galen pushed his arms up, stripping off his shirt quick and easy. “That’s even better.”
He chuckled, but the sound went all moany and low when their bellies touched. “Yeah.”
“Should let you eat.” Looked like Galen was gonna eat him instead, nibbling his chin and throat.
“They’ll keep.” He let his head fall back, hands sliding into the back of those soft pants, squeezing that fine ass.
Galen groaned, rubbing against him, hands sliding along his back. “I can live with that.”
“Fuck yeah.” His hat went flying, one hand traveling up to cup the back of Galen’s head, keep their lips together, need going zero to sixty, just like that.
The kiss went harsh, Galen’s lips bruising his, and damned if that didn’t trip his heart up a notch. That was a sure sign Galen was losing it, was gonna let him have it, and sure enough, Galen scrabbled at his jeans, opening them and shoving them down before turning and laying him right out on the kitchen table.
He moaned, hips tilting, thighs parting, prick stiff as a frigging board. “Fuck. Len. Want it. Need you.”
“Hell, yes. Been thinking about you all night.” Galen’s cock popped right up as those soft pants came off, looking so eager it made him laugh. He got a sharp pinch to one thigh for his trouble, and then Galen was bending to spread and lift Shane’s legs and lick between them.
“Oh. Oh, sweet fuck.” His eyes rolled like dice on a craps table, body jerking, cock slapping his belly.
“Yeah. Good.” Galen tasted him deep, tongue pushing right in, opening him up. Getting him ready for Galen’s cock. The sounds that came out of his mouth were pure porn and obscene, and a lesser man would be ashamed. A lesser man wouldn’t be lucky enough to be in a position to need to make those sounds, though, so Shane figured it was all cool.
When he was wet and open and figured he was about to pop, Galen pulled up, taking one long swipe against his cock with that fantastic tongue before standing and settling between his legs. The tip of that thick prick pressed against him, Galen’s eyes burning him. “Gonna fuck you so good.”
“Fuck yes.” He nodded, banging his head on the table, hips begging for it. “Want to feel you, Len.”
“Yes.” Galen thrust right on in, hips rolling, thick and hard and deep in him.
He wrapped his legs around Len’s waist, hands gripping the edge of the table. His shoulders lifted up, his body on fucking fire. “Don’t stop.”
“Not planning on it. Gonna make you feel it.” God, that voice. And that cock. Galen started up a hard r
hythm, rocking in and out, hands like iron on his hips. His whole fucking body was tight, breath caught in his chest, and, fuck, he could stay right fucking here forever, riding the edge so sharp it opened him right up.
Galen grabbed his cock and pulled, letting him know forever was gonna end a lot sooner than he wanted it to. That strong hand was good on him, hot, tugging strong as Galen fucked him like a crazy man. He arched, squeezing hard as he shot, muscles drawing up like a bow.
“Fuck! Shane. Yeah, just what I….” Galen slammed him, whole body tight, muscles bulging as he shot, filling Shane right up.
“Sweet Christ….” His head was rolling, chest heaving. “Needed that.”
“You did? Jesus, Shane. I been waiting all night. Hell, been waiting three days.”
He nodded. “Work sucks.”
Galen looked at him real funny for a minute, but only nodded. They separated, Galen holding down a hand to help him up. “Well, that took the edge off.”
He nodded, stepping in close for another kiss. “Fucking love Saturday nights, Len.”
“God knows so do I.” Galen took that kiss, and another, finally swatting him on the ass. “Get you some supper, okay? You want Coke or a beer?”
“Coke, I think. I’m about beer’d out for the day.” He pulled the tacos out. “There’s steak and chicken. They both sounded good.”
“So have ’em both. I’ll just sit with you. I ate a while back.” He got an ice-cold glass of Coke and a bunch of napkins. “You’re midnight snack enough for me.”
He blushed, grinned, and opened one of the foil packets. “Man, you’re glad you didn’t come in tonight. The band? Like drunk Statler Brothers on helium. Was deeply fucked-up. Played three sets too.”
“Now that sounds downright surreal, buddy.” Galen had a beer while he ate, every so often picking out a piece of chicken or cheese for himself.
“It was terrifying. The lead singer wore vinyl pants and flip-flops and sang Conway Twitty songs. Wanted whiskey in grapefruit juice.” Their legs were leaning together, and he was feeling so fine. “Your momma get to come see you like you thought?”
