The Hunt

7

TW- S/A

Charlie spent the next three days taking over Tom's home. The man didn't so much as grumble any discomfort with that turn of events, instead he smiled and pandered to Charlie on a level that told him Tom was clearly lonely after his wife's passing. It was mutually beneficial for them both, Charlie felt comfort and safety for the first time in forever, he had three meals a day and a warm bed to retreat to at night. They watched old action movies and reruns of the State Championship from years before, it turned out to be a surprisingly popular affair with a packed stadium. It seemed The Hunt was taking off in the southern states after all.

Wyatt would come around once a day with Charlie's Violet, he never saw the man, only heard his bored voice from the porch when Tom went to collect it. He only had two more days of freedom before he was locked away with the group from Hell House at the Training Camp, and he decided to spend one evening getting another itch of his scratched.

He passed a few bars downtown, some a little more modern than the one on the Bayou, he intended to get drunk and have some fun. He dressed in a pair of black shorts with a simple tank top he had stolen from Tom, and bid the man farewell. The Shaw was a small bar near main street, its atmosphere was intimate and dark whilst not being too expensive for the meagre money Charlie had brought with him. He needed to find his mark, flirt a little and get free drinks all night.

The music that played through old speakers never changed, the bar was sticky and unmaintained and the staff even more so. He slipped onto a bar stool and ordered himself a beer before taking in the few patrons it had, rough around the edges and much too old. His usual taste when looking for someone to pass time with.

Ricky had been smooth, tall and handsome. He reeked of money and confidence, he had never been what Charlie was attracted to and he wasn't exactly sure what his type was. But Charlie didn't choose Ricky, Ricky had chosen Charlie. All things considered, Ricky didn't mind that Charlie cruised the bars for whatever took his fancy, instead he made sure Charlie didn't spend more than a night with a man. If he ever got attached there was a silent assuredness that the unfortunate soul would be found floating near the Brooklyn Bridge.

A gruff looking man wearing a ratty camo, denim jacket sipped his whiskey in the far corner of the bar. Charlie mused at the god awful outfit and smiled over at him. He had blonde hair that stuck out under his cap and a slight beard. Charlie read him right and noticed the quick glance he did at him, his eyes raking from his legs to his neck. He looked nervous, it was cute.

Charlie moved from the bar to a booth and waited, nursing his beer to the dregs and hoping the man would take his bait. Like clockwork, he slipped in beside him and offered Charlie a sly smile.

"Not seen you in these parts before" he had that southern drawl that Charlie had found alluring since his arrival in Louisiana.

"I'm new in town"

"Where are you from then?"

"Small town up North... of England I mean...I doubt you would have heard of it" Charlie grinned at the man whose wide eyes told him his accent was doing most of the work.

They chatted about superficial things and Charlie slipped his leg between his, letting his foot gently tap against the man's calf. He didn't have to buy himself another drink that night and as closing time was announced, the man tugged him up with misty eyes that told Charlie exactly what was going to happen next. He swallowed a little in trepidation.

They walked silently to his pick up and Charlie climbed in, the smell of cigarettes and beer permeated from the seats and should have been his first red flag to vacate the night's musings. But his cock had other plans. They drove for some time, out of town and onto desolate roads with only the sound of insects for company, eventually the man pulled over and beckoned Charlie to move closer. He leaned in to kiss the man who swerved by his lips and licked his neck before slowly pushing Charlie's head to his crotch. Charlie felt a sting of annoyance before eventually he relented, he unzipped the man and the smell of stale urine hit him. The man had paid for his drinks that night, the weight of expectation pushed through his disgust and he hated himself for breaking so easily. He let the man fuck his face, and after a short time, without warning, he grunted his orgasm deep into Charlie's throat. His hand never left the back of his neck, forcing him down to take it all.