Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I have been shot, stabbed, survived a plane crash and shipwreck, along with numerous other instances that should’ve killed me, and yet, I’m still here.  Like the world is playing some sick joke on me, right?” he asked the curly-haired bartender in front of him.

Once upon a time ago, he would’ve hooked up with her if only to deny what he truly wanted which was actually the curly-haired man behind him currently hustling the locals at the pool table, but he’s long since strayed away from showing his wants to masses of the world and has just decided that drinking without getting drunk was the way to go.

“Makes sense as to why your aura is all over the place.  You can’t seem to settle on any one bright emotion as you feel them all.  Has to be tiring if you ask me” she answers him as she sets a bottle of tequila down in front of him.

He “Hm”’s as he pulls the bottle to him and looks at it fondly, “The worst and best ideas come from the bottoms of liquor bottles.”

She snorts, “Usually involving sex with the worst kind of people.”

“Which is why I should stop now before my perversions decide to get the best of me once more.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I drank wine when the Titanic was sinking, and beer when an amateur filmmaker tricked me into bed.  Both times, I had sex before running the fuck away” he tells her with brutal honesty in his voice which seems to cause her to question if he was actually telling her the truth about all he’s been through.

“And now?” she asks trying to pull more out of him and, pleasantly for her, he feels like being honest tonight.

“The curly-haired man at the pool table behind me is looking more and more like a good idea.”

“You’re thinking Michael Guerin is a good idea? Then I know you need to stop drinking the tequila.”

“Too late, pray for me.”

“Even the Gods can’t save you this time.”

“I doubt they’ll care.”

As he made his way over to Michael, per what the bartender called him, he tried to think of a new name he could go by once he reached him.

He’d never been the one to walk over or have his interest be caught by the person that’d eventually try to cause his death; or, well, his death in the sense that he’d try to be killed, but he’d just end up walking away from it moments later.

It’s kind of new and exciting in a way that has him nearly vibrating in the clothes he’d chosen to fit in with the small town vibe.

Once he reaches the pool table, he grabs one of the pool cues and motions that he’s next once Michael cleans the men of their hard earned cash.

It wasn’t ten minutes later when Michael finally cleaned them out making them grumble about having to use their credit cards to buy drinks now.

“So, was wondering when you’d come over,” Michael says conversationally as he digs the balls out of the pockets.

With a smirk, Alex, he decides for his name, puts the rack on the table in the exact center, “Didn’t know I was being waited on.”

Michael shrugs as he arranges the balls into the rack before motioning over to it, “You can shoot first, and I might have been waiting but I didn’t think I’d be depriving you of your money first.  How about a ten dollar bet to start small and then, once you’re all out of money, we get to the more...interesting bets.”

Alex snickers as he carefully lifts the rack off the balls making sure none of them accidentally stray, “That’s if, you can actually beat me.”

Michael’s face turns confident, “By all means, show me your worst.”

He never should’ve said that as, with just one strike of the cue ball, all of the balls find their ways into the pockets, “You were saying?”

Michael looks up at him in surprise, “You some kind of pool ball Houdini or something?”

“Like you, I hustle the pool tables to make an extra bit of cash.  Not my fault I also do trick shots when I’m bored.”

Michael looks up at him from the pool table with more interest than he’d previously shown, “Okay, you wanna play, let's play.”

For the next several hours, Michael and Alex played pool against one another.  At first, they fought fair, but as time went on, they started subtly flirting with one another - a little brush of a hand here, a little gust of breath against an unprotected neck there - and the games continued until they got too keyed up to pay attention to the game at all.

They were to the point they’d try exhibitionism out and just fuck on the bar floor.

Being watched carefully by the lovely bartender, the both of them beat a hasty retreat out to Michael’s truck where, in the cab of it, they lost all control.

Their kisses were an utter mess, their patience only lasted long enough to get Michael’s belt and jeans undone as well as Alex losing his pants altogether, and the spit that was used for lube only got them so far until they were forced to slow down a bit so Michael didn’t accidentally tear Alex.

Once Alex loosened up enough however, their movements returned to the frantic pace they’d been before.

“Oh, fuck” Alex whimpered as held onto Michael with a bruising grip as Michael’s hips set a pace that’d make Alex so sore later on that he’d even be limping, but he was not regretting it one bit as the pleasure kept shooting through him over and over again.

“Shit, Alex, you feel so fucking good, baby,” Michael tells him as his right holds a death grip onto Alex’s left hip as he keeps jackhammering his dick in and out of the tight passage that he feels himself drowning in.

All Alex seems to be doing is dissolving into an utter mess of pure pleasure that just wouldn’t stop coursing through him.

He’s had truck sex before, but none as mind-blowing as this.

He feels like once Michael finally cums and tips him over the edge, that Alex will turn into stardust from how good he’s feeling.

“Michael, please” he begs for no reason other than his body needing some sort of vocal release to let the man taking utter possession of his body to know how amazing he was making it feel.

The limp curls that hang down from Michael’s head glisten with the sweat the two of them are making while the cab has heated up enough to fog all of the windows and windshield giving the both of them the illusion of privacy as they continue their frantic dance.

Alex never wanted it to end, but Michael’s back soon arched as he came inside him screaming out his release which triggered Alex’s own making him release a croaked out a scream that thrashed his vocal cords.

Michael collapsed on him forcing Alex’s tired body to take his entire weight.  Usually, he would’ve minded, but enclosed spaces don’t give much room for the one on top to roll off so he’ll deal as they both tried to get their breath back.

“Cosmic” Alex says with his scratchy voice as he finally came back down from the heavens.

Michael moans in agreement as he seems to get enough of himself back in order to sit up and look down at Alex.

Alex looks back up at him and wonders what will have him switch their positions so he can run away from this man as well.  The best sex he’s had in his entire life and something is going to cause him to run away from it - he just knows it.

Right now, however, Michael seems to just content himself with kissing Alex so they can delay the inevitable.

Against the other's lips, Alex lets himself feel the crippling loneliness that’s been starting to consume him for the last twenty years, and he admits to the man overtop of him, “I don’t want to run away.”

Michael brushes his lips against Alex’s as he says, “Then don’t, stay here with me.”

Alex’s jaw flexes as he just continues to wait for a reason that Michael gives him to flee; he’s never been allowed something so good without something so bad following it.

Like the wealthy Husband who’d tried to drag him to the bottom of the Atlantic in his desperation just to keep him in the stateroom while the Titanic sank, or the amateur filmmaker who spoke of Paul Newman without even realizing Alex loved the movies the actor had been in until he’d taken the bait.

He’d been so into drugs and partying back then that he hadn’t realized he’d been baited until after he’d slept with him.

Michael, however, doesn’t have some odd label to his name.  He isn’t Pool Table Guy or Cowboy or some other dumb title that would go along with a nameless face, no, he was Michael Guerin who the bartender tried to warn him away from.

He has curly brown hair that was lightened because of the New Mexico sun, sun-kissed skin that spoke of what work he preferred, whiskey-colored eyes that Alex finds himself perpetually drowning in, and lips that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be pale or rose pink.

He’d be happy to settle down with this man, no problem.  He’d live out the rest of his infinite life with him if given half the chance.

In this man, he doesn’t feel lost anymore.

He doesn’t feel like he’s the only person in his universe anymore.

He doesn’t feel adrift at sea waiting for someone to come find him and help him out of the cold water that’s been his life thus far.

He no longer feels like the Jack that just kept waiting, but the Alex that took matters into his own hands when someone had caught his attention instead of him catching theirs.

It’s like a rush of power that overcomes him as he continues to kiss Michael while this feeling of finally finding someone he could actually share life with without needing or wanting to run away when it all ends courses through him linking his life to that of Michael’s own.

He’s found his home, his person, everything he could ever want and need right in this man.

“I’m not going to run away, I’m not going to run away, I’m not going to run away” Alex repeats like a mantra as he and Michael seem to catch a second wind but this time they took it a lot slower and a lot less frantic.

It felt like love-making, and it was absolutely the way Alex wanted to start off this new and amazing experience.