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Alex is covering the bar for Maria when he gets stuck, bottle of tequila hovering in between the bar and the glass he’s supposed to be pouring it in. He works hard not to notice people, notice men, but the most beautiful man he’s ever seen is walking into the bar and it's impossible to look away.
He’s got a long, lean body corded with the kind of muscles that come from work, not vanity. He’s dressed in tight jeans with a big belt buckle and a plaid button-up shirt with a few too many buttons undone, exposing a tanned, hairy chest that Alex wants to get his hands on. He’s wearing a black cowboy hat that can’t contain his unruly curls or fully screen Alex from the force of his devastating brown eyes. He looks like he was created in a lab specifically to tempt Alex to do exactly what he swore he’d never do, at least not in Roswell.
“Hello?” the asshole in front of him asks, and Alex blinks, clears his throat, and pours his shot and shoves it at him, collecting the cash he slaps on the bar and stuffing it in his back pocket.
The man stops about halfway to the bar, noticing Alex, and a smile spreads across his face. Alex watches him look, gaze wandering over all of him that he can see before raising his hand to the brim of his hat and tipping it at Alex. He’s smiling when he picks his head back up, and he’s got a beautiful smile, but Alex’s gaze keeps wandering back to the fingers hooked over the brim of his hat.
Alex spins around, shoving the cash from his pockets into the register before fixing himself a glass of ice water, taking a big gulp as he tries to collect himself.
When he faces the bar again the cowboy is leaning against it in an open spot right across from Alex. He looks at his hands resting on the bartop and tries not to think as he takes in the slope of his chest and the lines of his shoulders. The way he’s looking at Alex from under the brim of his hat.
He smiles, catching Alex looking at him again, and Alex feels a shudder run through him.
“What can I get you?” he asks, proud that his voice sounds mostly steady.
“Tequila,” he replies, grinning, and Alex would swear he’s looking at his lips and not his eyes.
“You care which one?”
“Not really,” he answers, gaze slowly traveling up to Alex’s eyes. It’s like he can feel his gaze on him, the ghost of how his hands would feel tracing the same path.
He turns and grabs a much nicer bottle of reposado than he should for someone who said they didn’t care and pours a generous glass.
Alex pushes the glass towards him, their eyes locking as the cowboy lifts it to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. Alex’s gaze slips down to his lips, over his sharp jawline, to the way his throat moves when he swallows.
Alex has to bite into his lip to keep from grabbing the cowboy by the front of his shirt and dragging him across the bar so he can feel his stubble against his throat.
“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a wink before tipping his hat again.
Relief and disappointment war within Alex when he abandons the bar to head to the pool tables. He sets his drink down before chatting with some of the people crowded around the tables, eventually starting up a game with a girl in shorts so small they could be underwear. Alex grits his teeth and works his way down the bar.
He pours a few rounds of shots and makes a margarita, still not as good as Maria’s but getting better, and helps the waitress Maria hired last week load up a tray with shitty beers in sweating bottles before he lets himself look for the cowboy again.
He finds him bent over the pool table, looking like something torn directly out of one of Alex’s impossible high school wet dreams. He adjusts his hat when he stands back up, catching Alex watching. He looks right at Alex while he reaches for his glass and finishes his tequila, staring at him until it feels like they’re the only two people there. He says something to the girl without looking at her and makes his way back to the bar.
Alex ignores the couple trying to get his attention at the other end and meets him at an open spot.
“Pour me another, darlin’?”
Alex pours his tequila and slides it over, hoping his face doesn’t reveal how much he likes the cowboy calling him that, or how his gaze raking over his arms is raising his body temperature. The smirk he gives him indicates he wasn’t very successful.
Before he even touches his glass, the cowboy slowly rolls up each of his shirtsleeves, revealing a slice of his tanned, hairy forearms, flexing as he leans against the bar. Alex balls his hand into a fist and squeezes.
Alex thinks he’s about to drift back to the pool table but instead he leans over the bar to whisper, “I like your shirt.”
Alex does blush then, glancing down at the tight white t-shirt Maria had insisted he wear, sleeves rolled up a little to “show off his assets”. She said he deserved the tips and her customers deserved something pretty to look at even when she wasn’t around.
The intensity of the cowboy’s gaze makes him brave, or stupid, and he leans a little closer, lets himself look at his chest, the hair there that he wants to get his fingers in, the lines of his throat that he can picture wrapping his hand around, the skin under his collarbone that would look so pretty with a purple mark sucked into it.
He smiles, and gives Alex a wink before turning back to the pool table, confident Alex is watching his ass as he goes. Before Alex can make his way down to the irritated couple he’s been ignoring, the cowboy grabs a pool cue, sliding his hand down it as he chats with shorts girl before leaning over the table to take a shot.
Alex grips the bar to keep himself from marching over to the table, planting a hand on his back to keep him where he wants him and fucking him stupid in front of half of his hometown.
He grits his teeth and focuses on slinging drinks.
By the time the cowboy saunters back to the bar, Alex feels half insane with lust. He’d tried not to watch, tried to focus on the job he was here to do, as the cowboy had played another round of pool, flirted with the girl while making direct eye contact with Alex, bit at his lip, gave Alex several great angles of his ass, and winked every time he caught Alex looking. He feels like he’s going to explode.
He doesn’t say anything, just looks Alex up and down as he pours some beers for some regulars, waits patiently as he delivers them and then pours two more.
“I like watching you work,” he murmurs quietly, and something in Alex snaps. He shoves a hand into the pint glasses and spins, plopping them in front of the cowboy.
“Yeah?” he asks.
He glances down at the beers and smiles up at Alex.
“That’s not what I ordered, darlin’. Did you get distracted and forget?”
“How about you take what I give you and say thank you,” Alex snaps, and is rewarded when the cowboy’s cheeks go pink and his big brown eyes go a little wide. Alex smiles and pulls his wet fingers from the beers and shoves them into the cowboy’s mouth.
He sucks on them, eyes slipping shut and a delicious whine leaking out of his mouth before they both remember where they are and Alex pulls his hand free.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, barely audible.
“Need to change a keg, cowboy. How about you help me?”
He nods, and ducks behind the bar when Alex gestures with his chin, following him into the back like an obedient puppy.
Alex rounds on him as soon as the door swings shut, pinning him against the wall.
“That’s what I thought. All that swagger and you melt for me as soon as I tell you to heel.”
He whimpers, and Alex wonders what on earth he’s done right to deserve having this gorgeous man delivered directly to him.
“You want me to take you apart, don’t you, cowboy?”
“Please,” he whines. “Michael. Name’s Michael,” he tells him as he takes his hat off and places it delicately on a nearby shelf without breaking eye contact.
“I’m Alex,” he says, and then grabs him by the front of the shirt and kisses him quiet.
Michael is pliant under his hands but he kisses like he’s starving. He gets a hand on his waist as Alex grips his face, pulling him closer and leaning in to press them tight together. Michael’s belt buckle bites into his belly as Michael digs his fingers in and kisses him deeper, greedy and impatient.
Alex pulls back when he starts to lose himself in it. He keeps Michael close but holds him still when he tries to lean back in.
“I can take care of you later, give you what you really need. Yeah?” he says, voice low. “But right now we gotta be quick. Gia’s new and she’s kind of terrible.”
“The waitress with the nice tits?”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Yes.”
Michael’s smile takes over his whole face. “Well come on, then. Tick tock.”
Alex runs two fingers down his lips, dragging the bottom one down, smiling when Michael melts under his touch.
“You like to run your mouth, but how about I keep you quiet?”
He lets his lip spring free but keeps his fingers on his chin and watches as Michael runs his tongue over the space his fingers just left.
“If we had time,” Alex growls, grabbing him by the arms and spinning them so Alex’s back is to the wall, “I’d bend you over that pool table like you so clearly want me to.”
Michael’s mouth falls open, and Alex traces it with his fingers, pushing them into his mouth again. “But you’re clearly dying to get something in that pretty mouth. Don’t worry, cowboy, I got you.”
Michael sinks to his knees at the lightest pressure on his shoulders, and looks up at Alex. God, this man is going to be dangerous, but Alex can’t help it. He’s already too far gone to resist him.
Michael waits until Alex nods at him, but when he moves it isn’t straight to the button of his jeans like Alex expects. Instead, Michael puts his hands on the sides of Alex’s thighs and rubs up and down, slowly, like he wants to learn the feel of Alex’s body before he puts his mouth on him. The unexpected tenderness has him surrendering to Michael’s touch. He gets so caught up that he doesn’t notice Michael’s hands traveling down further, past his knee, freezing when one hand reaches metal and plastic where skin and muscle used to be.
Alex feels himself tense, ready to bolt, when Michael’s hands start to move again, at the same slow pace as before, working slowly down his prosthetic, the other hand keeping pace on the other side, and back up again, coming back to his thighs before starting back down.
He looks up at Alex and smiles, and his eyes are still wide and his cheeks are still flushed and he’s so hard in his tight jeans it looks painful and god, Alex would do anything, give anything, to keep him looking at him like that. Like Michael can hear his thoughts, his smile widens as he raises his eyebrows, asking for permission.
“Go ahead,” Alex tells him. Michael sways forward as soon as the words leave his lips, hands sliding up to his fly and making quick work of the button and zipper. When Michael looks up at him again, eyes huge and wanting but so clearly unwilling to take anything Alex doesn’t enthusiastically want to give. “You’re being so good for me.”
Michael whines at his words and gets his cock out, movements hurried like he can’t stand to wait any longer. He stares for a minute, biting at his lip, before sticking his tongue out flat. He stares up at Alex, tongue sticking out wide and obscene, and leans closer until the head of Alex’s cock brushes his tongue.
Alex has to choke off a noise, but he’s honestly not sure if it’s the feeling of a soft, wet tongue on the head of his dick for the first time in way too long or if it’s the expression on Michael’s face, soft and needy and perfect, like Alex is the one giving him a gift and not the other way round.
Michael responds by sliding his tongue all the way down the underside of his dick and proceeding to lap at him like he’s some kind of delicious popsicle on a hot summer day. He moans and his hips jerk forward like he’s enjoying getting his tongue on Alex as much as he is.
Michael looks up at him, eyes wide, and when Alex tells him he’s good he watches him melt into the words before swallowing him down in one smooth, mind-melting slide.
Fuck, he feels like heaven, like no matter what his father has spent his life telling him that this can’t be anything but holy, so when Michael grips onto the back of his thighs and looks up at him, Alex pushes his hips forward just a little. Michael moans and digs his fingers in, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, so Alex thrusts into his mouth. Michael pulls him in, encouraging, so Alex lets himself take, pushing into Michael’s tight throat, reaching a hand down to stroke his thumb down the line of it.
“You look so pretty full of me–fuck–that’s so good, you’re so good.”
Michael whines and palms his dick, hips jerking into it like he can’t help it.
“Stop,” Alex tells him, and Michael freezes. “Don’t touch yourself. I’ll take care of you later. Can you be a good boy and wait for me?” Michael swallows around him and takes him deeper, eyes squeezing shut as he moves his hand back to Alex’s thigh. Alex hears an alarming noise and looks over to see Maria’s backstock of liquor bottles rattling on the shelf.
“Wha–” he starts to ask, but Michael digs his fingers into his thighs and they stop. A shudder runs through Michael but then he starts to move again, and Alex can’t bring himself to care about a rattling shelf.
“Hold still,” Alex tells him. “Let me.” Michael holds himself perfectly still as Alex pulls back so slowly it’s making him feel insane, thrusting back in and watching his cock disappear down Michael’s throat. He’s on edge quick, way too quick. He wants hours of this, not minutes, but they don’t have the time and he can’t hold out anyway, not after being on edge all night, not with Michael looking at him the way he is.
Alex gets his hands in Michael’s hair and grips tight, pulling Michael still as he pushes all the way in. He holds him there, Michael’s fingers digging into his thighs as Alex comes down his throat, Michael taking all of it beautifully. When Alex relaxes his grip he pulls back slowly, looking up at Alex as he pulls his cock free, like he’s reluctant to give it up. Alex wonders how long he could get him to sit still and hold it in his mouth–if he’d sit under his desk or at his feet on the couch and warm his cock as long as Alex asked him too.
A little trail of come spills from his lip and Alex uses his thumb to catch it, push it back into Michael’s mouth. He sucks at it greedily.
“Will you let me come on your pretty face next time?”
Michael licks his lips. “Sure, darlin’. You wanna mark me up?”
“I do. But I gotta get back to work.”
Michael swallows, considering. “What time’s the bar close?”
“Two.”
“You gonna make good on your promise then?”
“My promise?”
“I remember something about bending me over the pool table?”
Alex smiles. “Only if you can be good for me. My friend will kill us both if you come on her pool table.”
Michael grins. “I can be good.”
“I know you can,” Alex tells him, pulling him to his feet. He rubs his hand down the fly of Michael’s jeans. He feels a little bad, but the idea of making him wait is too delicious to resist.
Gia looks frazzled when they come out, so Alex sends her to gather empties and run the dishwasher before sending her home. They’re close enough to closing time, he can handle the rest. He works to get everyone’s last call in, Michael helping by flirting with an older woman who’d gotten impatient and distracting her with his charm and his pecs until Alex can deliver her drink.
Michael puts shorts girl in a cab; she got drunk when Michael disappeared and apparently her friends are assholes, so he makes sure she gets home okay while Alex sends everyone else home.
When the door swings shut behind the last group to head out, Michael tips his hat at him again.
Alex takes his time wiping down each table and the bar, watching Michael watch him with heat in his eyes, his poor neglected dick straining against his wranglers. When he’s finally finished everything and can’t bear to wait any longer, he looks at Michael.
“Come here, cowboy. You’ve been so good for me.”
“Please,” is all he manages before Alex feels a tug on his shirt and is in Michael’s arms, kissing him quiet again.