Any Better Than This
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s the stick you’re supposed to be using.” Dean said, voice dripping honey as he stepped away from Eliot’s hand, grabbing the pool cue beside him and handing it over to the man.
Eliot smiled back radiating good ole’ boy charm and somehow it made his fingers brushing over Dean’s erotic instead of necessary. “My bad, won’t happy again.”
“That would make it my break then.”
“How is that?”
“Since you obviously don’t know a prick from a stick you probably need me to show you how this is done.”
“I won the last game.”
“And I won the first. Don’t be a sore winner.”
Eliot let his head back and laughed, his hair falling loose over his shoulders and Dean really wanted to reach over and grab it, to push Eliot onto the table and fuck him hard over it, but then again, there were plenty of opportunities tonight. Especially since the bar was already closed. It was the advantage of coming to the Roadhouse from time to time.
Dean bent over the table, lining up the shot. When he broke the balls went wild, scattering and sinking two stripes. Eliot whistled but Dean wasn’t sure it was his shot or the way he was bent over. Either way worked just fine for him.
He lined up the next shot and felt Eliot pressing close behind him, their bodies sliding tight against each other. “You gonna take that shot?” Eliot asked.
Dean pressed his forehead against this arm and groaned. He dropped the pool cue and spun on Eliot so fast the other man didn’t have a chance to defend himself. Not like he would though. He grabbed him by the arms and pushed until he was against the pull table, then grabbed his hips, lifting him up onto the sideboard.
“Thought we were playing best two out of three?” Eliot asked, his smile wide and innocent as Dean practically growled at him.
Really, there were limits. And Dean had learned one of his own tonight. He was never playing strip pool with Eliot ever again.
“I don’t think it gets any better than this.”