Leather and Jeans
Written for gh_unwrapped
Don't own any of the characters.
He was all leather and cool, crisp edges; his opponent, jean clad and muscular. They were quite a pair for the female patrons of Jake’s to study.
A light blue cloud of smoke curled artfully from lips twisted upward in a sneer, and it hung in the air between them, stealing the oxygen from all of the properly working lungs in the crowded bar. The shorter blonde pulled the taller, brawny man toward himself as he moved to pass between him and the pool table, their bodies jolting together in an awkward semblance of union.
Twisting his challenger’s wrist slightly with strong, slender fingers as he rounded the table, he leered at the taller man, his steel blue eyes boring into near-mirror images of themselves, willing the other to bend and break to his will.
Jason jeered and glared as the petite, yet powerful blonde increased the pressure on his wrist, causing him to comply with a hiss. He briefly broke eye contact and hastily resumed his glare at the gloating victor as he wrenched his captured wrist free.
Groin pressed against groin, hips bumped uncomfortably against the rail of the pool table as they moved simultaneously, each one’s hand reaching for a pool cue opposite the other.
Having reached his cue first, the blonde smirked. “I’ll break then.” His cockney accent floated through the packed room as he nodded in the direction of the table.
“Fine,” the terse reply was accompanied by a twitch along his jaw as he gestured for the game to begin.
“Solids,” the diminutive bleached blonde called. His break had sent the balls scattering, pocketing three solids and two stripes.
He eyed Jason suggestively as he lined up his next shot, sliding the shaft of the cue through his hands gracefully, swiftly sinking the ball as he called it, “Six in the corner pocket.” He licked his lips and reached for his whiskey which he’d audaciously placed on the rail of the table.
He swirled the amber liquid around his mouth, ogling Jason, waggling his eyebrows provocatively.
“You gonna play or drink?” Jason ground out.
“I am playing mate.”
Catlike, he stretched and prowled around the table, brushing up against his rival as he eyed the layout of the balls. Finding a suitable shot, he grasped the butt of the cue stick firmly in his right hand and hopped up onto the rail, cocking his head to the side as he called out, “Three to the center pocket.”
“Scratch!” A spectator cheered.
“You’re up mate,” the bleach-blonde’s lips curled as he slid elegantly from his position draped over the table.
As Jason up his shot, the blonde pressed in close, his lean, muscular body pushing tight against that of his challenger’s. Ignoring the sinewy, taut muscles and the lithe fingers which trailed down his forearm, he took a deep breath and bent over the table. His groin was squeezed tight against the rail as his ass was shoved from behind; the other man giving him no room for movement as he took his shot.
A collective gasp and applause erupted as not one, but two balls were flawlessly pocketed and the ladies got an eyeful of guy-on-guy action. Jason spun on his heel, grasping the other player’s wrist, imitating the man’s earlier move, twisting the wrist painfully and expertly pinning his arm behind his back.
Unperturbed, the blonde leaned in close, arching his head upwards, taking a deep whiff of the irate man’s neck. “Liked that, did you luv?”
“What the hell?” Dumbfounded, Jason backed off, loosening his grip on the smaller man.
“You smell good enough to eat,” the blonde smiled dangerously.
Jason’s blood ran cold as the blonde’s blue eyes shifted, taking on an animalistic, tawny hue.
“Usually don’t play with m’ food,” the blonde licked his lips, “but I can make an exception in this case.” He purred, approaching Jason with feline grace.
Bated, the crowd held its breath as they watched the interplay between the two men.
“I’m not food,” Jason growled, meeting the blonde head on.
“Fair enough,” the feral blonde’s face shifted into a mask of grotesque bumps as he smiled like a Cheshire cat, revealing sharp fangs. “Just want a bit of a nip. Won’t hurt…much.”
Don't own any of the characters.
He was all leather and cool, crisp edges; his opponent, jean clad and muscular. They were quite a pair for the female patrons of Jake’s to study.
A light blue cloud of smoke curled artfully from lips twisted upward in a sneer, and it hung in the air between them, stealing the oxygen from all of the properly working lungs in the crowded bar. The shorter blonde pulled the taller, brawny man toward himself as he moved to pass between him and the pool table, their bodies jolting together in an awkward semblance of union.
Twisting his challenger’s wrist slightly with strong, slender fingers as he rounded the table, he leered at the taller man, his steel blue eyes boring into near-mirror images of themselves, willing the other to bend and break to his will.
Jason jeered and glared as the petite, yet powerful blonde increased the pressure on his wrist, causing him to comply with a hiss. He briefly broke eye contact and hastily resumed his glare at the gloating victor as he wrenched his captured wrist free.
Groin pressed against groin, hips bumped uncomfortably against the rail of the pool table as they moved simultaneously, each one’s hand reaching for a pool cue opposite the other.
Having reached his cue first, the blonde smirked. “I’ll break then.” His cockney accent floated through the packed room as he nodded in the direction of the table.
“Fine,” the terse reply was accompanied by a twitch along his jaw as he gestured for the game to begin.
“Solids,” the diminutive bleached blonde called. His break had sent the balls scattering, pocketing three solids and two stripes.
He eyed Jason suggestively as he lined up his next shot, sliding the shaft of the cue through his hands gracefully, swiftly sinking the ball as he called it, “Six in the corner pocket.” He licked his lips and reached for his whiskey which he’d audaciously placed on the rail of the table.
He swirled the amber liquid around his mouth, ogling Jason, waggling his eyebrows provocatively.
“You gonna play or drink?” Jason ground out.
“I am playing mate.”
Catlike, he stretched and prowled around the table, brushing up against his rival as he eyed the layout of the balls. Finding a suitable shot, he grasped the butt of the cue stick firmly in his right hand and hopped up onto the rail, cocking his head to the side as he called out, “Three to the center pocket.”
“Scratch!” A spectator cheered.
“You’re up mate,” the bleach-blonde’s lips curled as he slid elegantly from his position draped over the table.
As Jason up his shot, the blonde pressed in close, his lean, muscular body pushing tight against that of his challenger’s. Ignoring the sinewy, taut muscles and the lithe fingers which trailed down his forearm, he took a deep breath and bent over the table. His groin was squeezed tight against the rail as his ass was shoved from behind; the other man giving him no room for movement as he took his shot.
A collective gasp and applause erupted as not one, but two balls were flawlessly pocketed and the ladies got an eyeful of guy-on-guy action. Jason spun on his heel, grasping the other player’s wrist, imitating the man’s earlier move, twisting the wrist painfully and expertly pinning his arm behind his back.
Unperturbed, the blonde leaned in close, arching his head upwards, taking a deep whiff of the irate man’s neck. “Liked that, did you luv?”
“What the hell?” Dumbfounded, Jason backed off, loosening his grip on the smaller man.
“You smell good enough to eat,” the blonde smiled dangerously.
Jason’s blood ran cold as the blonde’s blue eyes shifted, taking on an animalistic, tawny hue.
“Usually don’t play with m’ food,” the blonde licked his lips, “but I can make an exception in this case.” He purred, approaching Jason with feline grace.
Bated, the crowd held its breath as they watched the interplay between the two men.
“I’m not food,” Jason growled, meeting the blonde head on.
“Fair enough,” the feral blonde’s face shifted into a mask of grotesque bumps as he smiled like a Cheshire cat, revealing sharp fangs. “Just want a bit of a nip. Won’t hurt…much.”