5. Walker

Walker

" W here the fuck were you last night, man?" I can't help but chuckle at how shocked Archie sounds when I barely go out anymore, and he definitely knows that. Still, he invites me to the tavern weekly.

"You know I'm getting way too old for that shit, man."

"We're five months apart. And I'm never going to be too old to go to the tavern and have a good time."

I pour coffee into my travel mug and take a seat at the large table in the landscaping office. "Oh yeah? You win a game of pool?" I tease. It's a small town. Not much goes on at the tavern, especially during the week.

"Actually, I lost three games." He sits down next to me. "But I couldn't give a fuck because I had the best sex of my life last night."

"No one needs to know what you and your hand got down to last night, Archie," Oakley says as he strolls into the office.

I laugh, and so does Archie, but he's grinning so big, I'm guessing it wasn't his hand. "Who?" I ask when Oakley starts talking to some of the other guys who have walked in.

"Not a local. Said he was just passing through. But damn, if I don't hope he passes through again and again."

I snort at that and shake my head. "Picked up a stranger, huh?"

"Nope." Archie sits back in his chair, looking pretty satisfied. "He took me back to his hotel and had his way with me. It was..." I quirk an eyebrow at him, watching as he looks whimsical as he reminisces. We've been friends for over twenty years, and I've never seen my friend like this before. "Unreal."

"You okay, man? You didn't catch feelings or something, did you?"

He doesn't answer for a while, and honestly, I don't know what the hell to think. Archie has always been the love 'em and leave 'em type with both men and women. Never once has he been in an actual relationship. "No," he answers way too much time later. "That would be insane. It was just a really good fuck. That's all."

"And you want a repeat?"

He thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs. "I wouldn't mind."

I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped and my mouth is agape. "Are you kidding? You don't do repeats."

He just shrugs his shoulders. "It doesn't matter. He's already gone."

I let out a startled laugh because this is... so not like him, but he isn't laughing anymore. No, he actually looks kind of upset. "You okay?" I put my hand on his shoulder, and then he plasters that signature smile of his back into place.

"Yeah, of course. Just thinking about Mrs. Ball."

Now I laugh for real because Mrs. Ball is kind of a local legend. Ninety-eight years old and scares the shit out of all the grown men I work with, me included. "You have Mrs. Ball on your schedule today?"

He just grumbles and takes a sip of his coffee. "You still on the Collins job?"

Collins. Dutton. The sexy-as-fuck photographer I can't seem to get off my mind. I swear every time I looked up yesterday, I saw him looking at me through the lens of his camera.

I wanted to ask to see his photos when I was finished for the day, but I'm trying my best to behave and be professional. "Yeah. I'll be on it for a while."

"Oh, will you?" I don't miss the amused lilt to his tone, and I shove him. He barely budges. "And what does Mr. Collins look like?"

"Not like Mrs. Ball," I say with a smug grin, and he flips me off just as the morning meeting kicks off and we get down to business.

I'm in a good mood when I head out to Dutton's place, still thinking about this man that has my best friend all twisted up. And of course, the beautiful man greets me as soon as I pull up to the country house with a mug of coffee in his hand and his hair swept up into a half sort of bun.

The man-bun thing has never done it for me before, but on Dutton, it just works. And the little bit of scruff on his chiseled jaw... hell yeah, that works for me too. "Morning, sunshine," I call as I head out of the truck.

"Morning, not the Texas Ranger ."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" I ask as I close the truck door and go around the back of the truck.

"Now why would I do that?" He walks down the steps, and I notice that he's barefoot today. Wearing a snug pair of jeans and a soft-looking t-shirt. "It's way too much fun."

He reaches me and holds out the mug of coffee. I slowly realize he's offering it to me. "Coffee?"

I had a shitload of coffee already, but I can't resist and take it from him. "Thank you. What about you?"

"I'll grab mine in a minute." He looks around, his eyes darting all over as he takes in the morning. The grass is still wet with dew, and the sun is breaking through the trees, shining against his beautiful face. "I think I might see the beauty of summer here."

I can't help the way that makes my chest burn with excitement. "Is that so?"

He nods, looking around. "The mornings are beautiful. Before the mosquitos wake up and you can hear the birds chirping away. The sunrise is incredible." He pulls out his phone and holds it up, showing me a gorgeous picture of the sun rising on the property. Oranges and yellows fill the screen.

"This morning?" He nods and puts his phone back in his pocket. "It's a beautiful picture. I can see the talent you have, even with a phone camera."

"I'll have to show you my others," he says, shocking the hell out of me. He seems lighter today. Happier. And it's almost intoxicating.

"I'd like that."

He just offers a sweet smile and nods. "I'll be inside if you need anything." And then he walks back up the stairs, leaving me to watch him walk away and the snug way his jeans hug his delectable ass.

That'll give me something to think about while I'm finishing up the flowerbeds around the property.

W hen I get home from work, I'm tired, dirty, and sweaty, but I'm happy too. It was a great day. I got a lot done on Dutton's property, and I'm actually a little ahead of schedule. Which should make me happy, but it doesn't. Not even close.

The reason I'm so happy when I get home is because at the end of my shift, Dutton let me go through some of his recent photos. Mostly just shots of his property, but the guy definitely has an eye. Maybe one that shouldn't be wasted out in the middle of nowhere Kansas, but he can make anything beautiful.

I enjoyed every second of going through photo after photo that he took.

I strip out of my dirty shirt when I get into my bedroom and toss it into the hamper before I flop down on the bed. I undo my jeans, but don't push them down yet, letting my hands slide up to my hair, threading through the dry locks before stretching them above my head.

I love the feeling after a long day of work. I know that manual labor isn't for everyone, but it most certainly is for me. I let one hand drop to my bare chest, running it over my skin and down over my abdomen. I can't stop thinking about Dutton and his beautiful smile.

I know he probably won't be here for very long, even if he seems to be fairly committed to staying for six months and seems to be finding the beauty in western Kansas. There's just no way a guy like him will stay for long.

I can't help but think about what if he does stay. What if I finish the job at his place, so he's technically not a client, and I ask him out on a date? What kind of date would a guy like him expect?

Probably some fancy city restaurant—sushi or some shit. I snort at that. I don't think we have anywhere with sushi around here. Never tried it. Never wanted to. But I probably would for Dutton.

My hands move to my jeans, sliding the zipper down. I slide my hand over the silky lace of the red thong I'm wearing today. Yeah—not something a lot of people know about me. Probably not something anyone would expect I have on under my cargo shorts or torn jeans—but I love the feel of lace and silk covering my package.

I love knowing I have a secret under my jeans. Something only for me.

I push my jeans off, kicking them off my feet to the floor, leaving me in just the red lace. My cock is semi-hard, making it bulge obscenely, and when I reach under the silk, my cock stiffens even more when I close my eyes and think about Dutton.

Would he be surprised to see the lacy thong? Would he think it was odd? Turn him off or would he lean into it? Would he love seeing my cock and balls cradled by the smooth, elegant fabric? I start to jerk myself off in earnest, thinking about it being his hand.

I wonder if his hands are as soft as they look.

Oh God, I'm sure they are. His neatly trimmed nails on his clean, soft hands. "Fuck," I whisper as I use the copious amount of pre-cum to make the glide of my hand over my dick effortless. I keep the panties on, loving the feel of the silk over my cock and my hand as I stroke myself until my back bows off the bed, and I'm spewing cum into the panties, making a delicious mess.

I give myself a moment after I come to revel in the fantasy of Dutton being there with me. It's not like I'm hard up or anything. Despite it being a small town, there are some hookups here and there. Surprisingly, there are plenty of gay guys who frequent the tavern in town—some I know from high school. Some just passing through.

And then there's always hookup apps. I'm not hurting for sex—but damn, would I love a chance to taste Dutton. To kiss him and find out just how good those hands would feel.

But he'll be gone soon. Just another person who's passing through the small town.

Just another brief fantasy.