Heavy Metal Blues Box Set

Heavy Metal Cowboy Blues-3

“He fell asleep again,” Damien whispered when I returned an hour later. Kenny was stretched out on the couch, a blanket covering his slim, tragic figure.

We both stood by the couch and stared down at him. “I’m glad he had you to turn to. I mean that. You’re a good friend.” I leaned in to kiss Damien’s cheek.

He looked shocked. Touching the spot, Damien asked, “What was that for?”

“Because you are beyond awesome, despite your taste in music.”

“You think I’m so awesome, why don’t you cook me dinner? I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’ve been running around, trying to arrange things for Kenny.”

“Maybe just this once. Leave him a note or something. Put it on the table so he won’t freak out if no one’s here when he wakes up.”

“Good idea.”

That done, we climbed the stairs to my place.

“I have some leftover tuna casserole. That work?” I asked as I headed to the kitchen to get us some food. I was starving, too.

“Sounds perfect.” He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, a huge grin on his face.

“Good. Make us a salad. Stuff is in the fridge, bottom drawer.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were enjoying our meal, and Damien regaled me with some anecdotes about the gym and some of the members’ shenanigans.

“So,” he said, “I’m cleaning the showers in the men’s locker room, right? And this guy comes up to me, naked, and strikes a pose, like I was supposed to be impressed with the goods. I ignored him, mainly because a pencil d**k on top of two pebbles isn’t my thing.”

I snorted.

“Anyway, he comes closer to me and tries again. Still nothing. Then, he reaches out like he wants to touch me. I turn around and spray him with the handheld showerhead. The water was really cold. He wasn’t happy.”

“Oh, that’s evil. I kinda like it.” I chuckled. “My turn.” I took another bite of the casserole and chewed for a bit.

“Okay, this customer comes in looking for a hat. Greenhorn, gettin’ ready to go to some dude ranch out in Kansas. Thinks it’s her God-given right to find the ugliest damn hat in the store, and call it cute. Well now, I look at her head, and I guess she’s about a size seven. She don’t believe me, though. And, of course, she wants the hat with the leopard print design that’s just too small.

“You should have seen her struggle with that thing, pullin’ it this way ‘n that. I tried to keep a straight face. Really, I did, but I burst out laughing. She got mad and told me it was all my fault the hat didn’t fit, threw it down, and stalked out the store. I apologized to the hat and put it back on display. People suck.”

Damien was rolling by the time I was done. It was a pleasure to watch him laugh. He calmed down after a while and wiped away the tears on his cheeks.

“Oh, man, I wish I could have seen that. Priceless!”

We were both finished with our meals by now. I got up to clear the table.

“Let me help,” he said.

“Sure.”

We got everything put away and the dishwasher stacked in record time.

“Beer?” I asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

I got two bottles of Budweiser from the fridge and led him out to the living room. The stereo was on from earlier, and soft music played in the background.

While we were getting comfortable on the couch—I sat as far away from him as possible—my cell phone rang. The ringtone was the George Strait song “All My Exes Live in Texas.”

Damien burst out laughing when he heard it. “I love that song,” he said.

I was surprised, but then not really. The day had been a revelation, in many ways.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Les. It’s Wade.”

“What’s up, man? Why are you callin’ me on a damn Sunday? Curtis out o’ town?”

“Nah, man. I’m gonna be out tomorrow. His Dad died, and we’re going to the funeral.”

“Sorry to hear that. Give him my best and safe trip.”

“Okay. See ya Tuesday.”

“‘Bye now.”

I set the cell phone aside and sipped my beer.

“Everything all right?” Damien asked.

“A friend of mine at work, his partner’s Dad died. Funeral’s tomorrow, so he won’t be in. It’s gonna be busy as hell, too, since it’s rodeo week.”

“Always something, right?”

“Yup.”

A bluegrass song came on and my foot started tapping. I noticed that Damien was giving me a sly look.

“What now?” I groused.

“You don’t even know what’s playing, do you?”

“‘Course I do. Bluegrass.”

“Yeah, but it’s a cover of a Metallica song called ‘Enter Sandman’.”

“You’re a lyin’ dog.”

“Am not. I can prove it, too. Be right back.” He disappeared out the door. What’s he up to?

He came back a few minutes later with his iPod.

“Kenny still asleep?”

“He woke up when I went inside. I told him I was upstairs. He just nodded, took some pills, and went back to sleep.”

Apparently he had the right cable or whatever to connect the iPod to my stereo. Damien found the song he was looking for and hit play. He sat down beside me again, a little closer this time.

After I listened to the song, I said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Told you.” He grinned at me.

“That still doesn’t make me a fan. The bluegrass version sounds better.”

“Not that you’re biased or anything.”

“How can you insult your host in his own home?” I feigned shock.

“Why would I insult you? I’m usually only thinking about kissing you whenever I see you.”

“Not that again.”

“In fact, I think you owe me.”

“I gave you dinner and beer.”

“And it was good, too. But it’s not enough. I need a kiss as payment.”

“Nope. Finish your beer and be on your way, rock heathen.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Behave.”

“You started it! What was that, the kiss on the cheek earlier?”

“That was me being overwhelmed by your kindness. Don’t read anything more into it.”

“I think I should. That’s the closest you’ve ever come to being intimate with me, and I think I like it.”

“You’re too young.”

“Say what? You’re maybe ten years old than me. That doesn’t make you my Daddy. I’m twenty five years old, legal in all states, pay my rent on time, and a full-blooded, horny gay male who needs to get a kiss right this damn minute.”

“Or what? And I’m nine years older.”

“I tell the world that you wear canary yellow underpants to bed at night and you have the tattoo of a scorpion as a tramp stamp.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Yes, I would.” His smile was evil.

“Damn you.”

“Kiss me, old man.”

And I did, just to shut him up.

His taste, a mixture of tuna, beer, and something all his own, made me want. I put my hand at the back of his head to hold him steady as I ravaged his mouth, forcing him to open up to me. He gave as good as he got, and it was heaven.

Pretty soon, we were horizontal on the couch, Damien’s body below me as we pressed against each other, writhing and grunting. He moved his hands down my back to grab my ass and squeeze. God, that felt so good, with our d***s lined up against each other through our clothes.

“Come on, Les. Hump me. Make me so crazy I let go in my shorts.” He nibbled on my lips, grinding up against me as I tried to catch my breath.

“Slow down, stud. I wanna taste you some more,” I said, then started to lick under his chin and moved to suck on his neck.

“No. Hump me now, f**k me later.”

And really, it had been so long since I’d touched another man, I was ready to blow.

“Come on, boy. f**k my crotch.”

He obeyed, and it felt so good I cried out seconds later when I came, Damien close behind me. I collapsed on top of him, and he rubbed his hands slowly up and down my back, both of us breathing heavily. I hadn’t come that hard in years.

After a while, I found the energy to get up and sit beside him on the couch, leaning against the cushions. My d**k was still half hard in my messy underwear. It felt decadent.

Damien placed his long legs in my lap. I looked at him as he lay there on his back, proudly displaying the wet spot on his shorts. He looked edible. And dangerous to my peace of mind.

“Stop that.” I looked up and saw him watching me.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. I can hear the gears turning all the way over here. We both wanted this.”

“What of it?”

“You’re telling yourself this was a bad idea, he’s too young for me, we have nothing in common, blah blah. I tell you what. I am perfect for you, because I get you out of your comfort zone. Maybe our age difference is just the right thing to keep you on your toes.” He winked at me, then sat up.

“I dunno…”

“You don’t have to know. Let me be the one to know, okay? You think too much. That old brain of yours must be tired.” Cheeky bastard. I made to swat at him like a bug, but he got up too fast.

“I’m gonna go home, check on Kenny. I know you need to get up early. Walk me to the door.” Damien grabbed my hand, yanked me up, and pulled me along behind him. At the door, he said, “I won’t let you stop us doing this again.” He used one hand to rub my crotch, spreading the still-drying semen all over my sensitive p***s.

“Uh,” I said, ever eloquent.

“Check on Kenny when you get home tomorrow night, okay? I’ll be home at ten thirty.”

He kissed me on the cheek and left.

* * * *

Tuesday afternoon, Wade and I were on break together. He smoked a cigarette while I sat beside him on a crate behind the store.

“Trip go okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. Funeral was well attended. Curtis was glad he had me with him, and I was happy to be there, especially when he almost beat up some third or fourth cousin who thought we were the spawn of Satan. Gotta love small towns.” He took another drag off his cigarette. “At least we won’t ever have to go there again. His Daddy left everything to charity. There’s no more family left he wants anything to do with, and vice versa. Good riddance, I say.”

“Agreed.”

“You okay? Seem pensive.”

“I’m fine. Damien has a guy staying with him right now.”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Wade teased.

“What? No! It’s not like that. The guy, Kenny, was beat up by his former roommate. He was in the hospital for a week. Damien asked me if he could stay awhile. I agreed.”

“s**t, that’s f****d up.”

“Sure is.”

“There’s something else, though. Right?”

“Yeah…I kinda sorta got off with Damien.”

Wade coughed on his next drag. “Say what now?”

“We dry-humped each other on Sunday.”

“It’s about damn time.”

“Don’t you start. If…”

“Stop right there. There’s no if! A hot twenty-five-year-old wants to f**k you ten ways from Sunday, and you’re complaining? Get over it and tap that hole, pronto. There’s nothing wrong with taking something for yourself for a change. Your parents would have wanted that, you know? It would have made them sad to see how you’re living now, like a damn hermit. You aren’t one of those prairie bachelors living out on the range all by your lonesome. You live in a duplex with a hot-blooded young-un just beggin’ you to f**k him silly. Get on it, son.”

* * * *

On Friday night when I got home, I knocked on Damien’s door. Kenny opened it.

“Hey, man. How ya doin’?” I asked.

“Still sore, but better. Come in.”

“Thanks.”

I stepped inside and followed Kenny as he walked slowly back to the kitchen.

“Glad to see you walking around more,” I said as I sat down.

“Believe me, I’m glad, too.” He went to the fridge and got out two bottles of water, handing one to me before he sat down. I thanked him.

“So the guy who did this to you is in jail?”

“Hell yeah! Fuckin’ Biff Tremonte. Homophobic jerk-off.” Kenny opened one of the bottles of pills on the table to take his medication.

“Good riddance to him, I say.”

“Amen to that,” he replied. Taking a sip of water, he asked. “So, you and Damien gonna get together now?”

I choked on my water. “Did he say something to you?” I asked after I stopped coughing.

“No. But I saw the wet spot on his pants and the huge grin on his face when he came back from your place the other day. He has it bad, man. He talks about you all the time, too. Used to mention his cranky landlord a lot when I would courier stuff to him at the gym.”

“Ah, geez.” I covered my face and shook my head.

“My two cents? Give in. He’s not gonna let it go ‘til he has what he wants. He’s stubborn like that.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Go with the flow.”

“All right, all right. Enough already,” I groused. I got up to leave.

Kenny laughed at me, but not unkindly. As I walked to the door, I had a thought. I stopped and turned to Kenny, who was a few steps behind me.

“You like country music, by chance?”

“Sure do.” He gave me a knowing look. “What do you have in mind?”

“You know he likes his music loud, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s always blaring at the gym.”

“He hates Patsy Cline. I think I’m gonna play some tonight, right when he gets home.”

“Oh, man, that is all kinds of evil and fantastic. I love the way you think. That should get his attention real quick.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” I smiled at him and left.