Pickup

By: Brian Holliday
(© 2009 by the author)
Editor: Rockhunter

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

He was good - I had to give him that - even if he wasn’t quite what I expected.

It’s always risky, picking up guys. You never know what you’ll get. Even if you think the bargain is clear – a few bucks for an hour of their time – they can change their minds and things can get ugly real quick. But it seemed I had gotten lucky, in more ways than one, with Kyle. I caught his eye first thing, me walking down the street and him standing outside a known gay hangout. I smiled and he smiled and it looked like my chances were pretty good. I was grinning when he held the door open and we walked in together.

He was short on money - aren’t they all - and wasn’t shy about letting me pay for the drinks. He didn’t mind my questions either, in fact he seemed happy to talk about himself.

“Yeah, I work construction, sometimes, for Fields over at Big Rock. You know it?” I didn’t, but that didn’t matter. He kept talking about work and recessions and hard times while I admired his arms and chest, which were well muscled, sprinkled with dark hairs, and shown off nicely by the white wife-beater he wore under his black leather jacket. His skin was pale but glowing with health, the column of his neck flaring perfectly into his stubbled square jaw. His mouth was wide and sensual, his teeth even, and his face added up to handsome in anybody’s book. I wondered what he was doing, standing on a street corner, waiting for me.

I’ve been told that I’m not hard to look at, which is a good thing, vanity being one of my major character flaws. Even if I do have a more slender body than the muscle-builders, they tell me that my sleek dark hair and grey-blue eyes are sexy. But, good looks or no, more often than not I get the scrawny guys, or the ones with low self esteem – looking for interest from me to build them up, maybe. Straight guys, mostly, just far enough down on their luck to enjoy it when another guy tells them they’re still worth something, still desirable, and pays them to prove it. I hoped they got what they wanted from me – I made sure I always got mine.

Often, these types were skittish about hooking up, almost apologetic about their desires, but not Kyle. He exuded confidence in every look and gesture, and had a down-to-earth beauty that made my mouth water. If he wasn’t gay, he was doing a damn fine imitation. I thought I was the charmer – that was my usual role – so it took a while before I recognized the line he was wrapping me up in.

Did I mind? Not on your life. Being wooed was nice, for a change, if a bit amusing.

I willingly fell in with his plan, batting my eyelashes from time to time, and hanging on his every word. And did he eat it up? Oh, yeah. It wasn’t long before he got around to patting my ass, and from there it was only a short stroll to ‘your place or mine.’

My little town apartment was closest – close enough to walk it – but we took my car anyway. I didn’t want to give him time to get out of the mood.

And he didn’t. We’d barely made it through the door before he grabbed me, grinding his pelvis against mine, which proved, as I had suspected, that he had something to brag about below the waist. He didn’t kiss me. I don’t like to kiss and was glad he didn’t try. After a couple of minutes of frantic, fully dressed frotting, I pushed him away and started unbuttoning his jeans. He got into it and went to work on mine. It wasn’t long until we were naked on the bed in a sixty-nine.

Whatever Kyle usually did with his time, he knew how to suck a cock. I gave him as good or better than I got and that first session didn’t last long for either of us.

I understand that some guys like to cuddle after sex.

Well… I don’t understand it, but I know it’s true. Me, I like to talk.  When Kyle was lying back on the pillows, panting, I brought up one of my favorite subjects.

“So – do you believe in the supernatural?”

“What?” he said, scratching a hairy armpit. “You mean ghosts and goblins and like that?”

“Yeah – like that. You believe in it?” It didn’t matter to me if he did or didn’t, but it was something to talk about and I was always curious.

“Sure, I guess, why not?” He grinned. “I know I ain’t ready to be a ghost yet but, as for other supernatural creatures, it’d be kind of fun, wouldn’t it, to have all those magical powers and stuff?” He kept smiling, thinking about it, I guess. He showed dimples when he smiled.

Then he frowned a little. “Except, I wouldn’t want to be a werewolf… I mean, hair all over, always worrying about the full moon? Man… that would suck.”

I laughed. “Vampires are the ones that suck,” I said.

Kyle laughed too. “I bet they do – but not as good as you.”

I noticed he was hard again so I took the hint and we were off and fucking, which ended that part of the conversation. While we were relaxing during a second break in the action, I put in my two cents.

“Well, I don’t know about werewolves or zombies and shit – but I sure wouldn’t want to be a vampire. You know, sleeping in a coffin, never seeing the sun? Jesus.”

“Why not?” Kyle asked, sounding like he actually gave a damn.

“You’ve got to be kidding - dead people walking around in tuxedos and black capes like it was Halloween all year long?”

“Aww…” Kyle said thoughtfully, rubbing his rough palm across my back. “It wouldn’t be that bad.” He was quiet for a minute, and I moved closer so he could reach more of me, rubbed my face against his neck.

OK, that was almost cuddling – but it doesn’t count because we were still talking.

“What if vampires aren’t really dead? What if they’re a mutation, or something?” he said. “Maybe they’re just allergic to sunlight and garlic and all that other stuff. And I bet there’s no fashion police for vampires. They could wear anything they wanted – jeans and tee shirts like you and me and everybody else. And vampires don’t even have to hurt anyone to survive. Werewolves are, like, berserkers who go nuts and kill people once a month… supernatural PMS.” He grinned.

“You’re crazy,” I countered. “Look, a modern werewolf would be smart enough to make a camping trip to the woods every month and hunt deer and stuff, like a regular wolf. Then nobody would know or care what he was.”

“Yeah,” Kyle said. “And risk being trapped or shot by some park ranger who’s worried about the wolf’s ecological impact on the deer population, or the spotted owls, or whatever it is werewolves like to eat.”

“Sure,” I said. “That could be rough. But what if a werewolf bought some land of his own and only hunted there? Don’t you think it would be fun to run free, like an animal?” He was looking at me seriously. I guessed I had found a kindred spirit when it came to talking after sex.

“Depends on the animal,” he said. “I guess being a real wolf would be OK, but, a werewolf? How many people can afford a big piece of land? It just isn’t realistic. And… a wolf in the city… haven’t you seen all those old horror movies?” He laughed.

“So, you think vampires have it any easier?” I said. “I saw that Anne Rice movie. All vampires ever do is bitch and moan. They have no loyalty. And, having nothing but blood to drink? Gross, man - I’d rather have a juicy steak, any day.” I lay back.

“No loyalty?” he asked.

“That’s right, they kill their own. Wolves would never do that… the pack is everything!” Except for the lone wolf, of course, I added, under my breath.

“You’re wrong, buddy,” Kyle said, leaning up on one elbow to look at me. “Sure, most vampires would hunt alone. There isn’t enough blood in one body to share. But who would want to be dependent on a pack, anyway? Not my thing. And, hey, are we arguing or fucking?”

I shook my head. Reluctantly, I had to admit he had a point. Spending so much energy on bullshit discussions like this was pitiful, I suppose. Too much time on my hands, you know?

Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re one of those guys whose life has a purpose – a doctor or a missionary… or even a lawyer. Or maybe you’re better at fooling yourself than I am. Sometimes, the distance between awake and asleep seemed to stretch out endlessly. Lots of guys were content to drink beer and watch basketball or NASCAR - I preferred a friendly debate. What better way to fill up those lonely hours? At least talking was more than a spectator sport.

But then, so is sex. This time I surprised him, flipped him onto his stomach and held him down. He went along and let me fuck him, even though he bucked and howled like I was killing him. I might have believed the act if he hadn’t been hard the whole time, and then blasted his load before I even began to cum.

We were quiet after that. I’d had about enough sex for one night, and it was getting late. My new friend was so still it looked like he might pass out, if he hadn’t already. Even through heavy, drawn curtains, I could feel the ripe fullness of the lunar orb sinking outside my window. It was time.

I ran a gentle hand over Kyle’s buzz-cut and down to his stubbled jaw, trailing over his throat to his firm chest. He felt so good. Too bad we couldn’t sleep a while and then start again. I could feel my body tensing, and I almost wanted to kiss him… almost.

His eyes came open and stared at me, pupils widening in surprise. I ignored him and watched the throb of his jugular, holding his shoulders tightly as my feeding teeth descended…

And damned if he didn’t change - right there in my bed - still wearing his white sweat socks.

But it didn’t do him any good in the end. No matter how big the muscles, man or wolf, when it comes to strength, the undead always win. I doubted he’d remember anything when he woke up in the alley, fully dressed and with five twenty-dollar bills in his pocket.

Yes, I’d rather be a werewolf than a vampire but, since I can’t, I’ll settle for enjoying one at dinner. After all, their blood tastes as rich and sweet as any human’s… even if it is a bit gamy.

The End.
 

Thanks to Rock Hunter for his excellent editing.

Posted: 11/06/09