over the powder before chalking his stick.
Idiot is brave enough to stand behind the rack. I should jump the cue and nail him in the mouth.
Chase grinned at the thought but knew there was just as good a chance he would hit Brad as there was to his Bobby.
The break was clean, sending the colored balls in every direction and even dropping a few, but Brad's eyes weren't on the table. He watched as Chase took high balls and made two more in before it was Bobby's turn.
"Hope you're not a sore loser, faggot," Bobby grinned at Chase as he bent to take his shot and Brad held his breath. A fight by the pool table would be ugly when the cues became weapons.
"I see your vocabulary hasn't grown much since high school." Chase smirked again and Brad grimaced.
Fuck, Chase, don't taunt him. He doesn't need help to find an excuse to fight , Brad silently prayed.
Bobby took his shot and missed before he stood and shot back, "What? You prefer ass-monkey?"
Chase just shook his head and wondered why he was bothering to even talk to the asshole. He moved around the table and chose his shot. It put him almost directly in front of Brad. As he bend down to take his shot, his back foot hit Brad's but he didn't even bother to look down and Brad didn't bother to move.
Enjoy the view.
They got down to the eight ball, Chase not really playing to beat Bobby. He would much rather sit at the bar and watch Brad play from under the brim of his hat. That plan was ruined when the asshat he was shooting against scratched on the eight.
"Son of a bitch," Bobby cursed as he thrust his stick toward Brad. "Kick that faggot's ass. I'll get us another round." Bobby stormed off toward the bar.
"Sorry about that," Brad apologized once Bobby was out of ear shot. He moved around the table to the hand powder and it brought him almost shoulder to shoulder with Chase.
"Don't apologize for that asshat," Chase said as he powdered his own hand. Brad wasn't looking at him and Chase knew he was more than likely keeping an eye on where Bobby was in the bar.
"Busy later?" Brad asked before he started moving away to rack the balls.
"You know where I'll be," Chase replied and decided that he would head out after this game. He was already putting a plan in place.
Bobby returned with their beers and Brad wanted nothing more than to leave the bar right then. He practically ran the table against Chase but had the impression the guy wasn't trying to beat him. Not like he had done with Bobby until they got to the eight.
"That shows you, faggot!" Bobby threw at Chase when Brad sunk the eight into a side pocket. Chase just tipped his hat in Brad's direction and headed to the bar to cash out. He heard Bobby say, behind his back as he was walking away, "I should kick that faggot's ass. He was flirting with you, dude!"
Chase didn't hear Brad's reply but he couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Just try it ass wipe and after you get out of the hospital you can kick your best friend's ass as well.
Chapter 9
Chase had a firm idea of how things would go when Brad showed up. He had no doubt that the guy wouldn't show and if he was a betting man, he would bet it would be within the next hour. Just long enough after he'd left to not arouse Bobby's suspicions.
He drug the same chair from his kitchen, that he pulled out the week before, and set it in the middle of his living room. Then he retrieved the rope that Brad hadn't taken with him. This should be interesting.
Chase had virtually no experience with kink, rope was kink, right? but he knew about restraint. Usually it was his hands and body that did the restraining but he found himself getting hard at the thought of using the rope. He looped the rope over the back of the chair before sitting down in it. He wondered if Brad would willingly let him tie him up or if they were going to end up in another wrestling match. The thought of either option made his cock twitch so he undid the button of his Wranglers.
Almost down to the minute an
Idiot is brave enough to stand behind the rack. I should jump the cue and nail him in the mouth.
Chase grinned at the thought but knew there was just as good a chance he would hit Brad as there was to his Bobby.
The break was clean, sending the colored balls in every direction and even dropping a few, but Brad's eyes weren't on the table. He watched as Chase took high balls and made two more in before it was Bobby's turn.
"Hope you're not a sore loser, faggot," Bobby grinned at Chase as he bent to take his shot and Brad held his breath. A fight by the pool table would be ugly when the cues became weapons.
"I see your vocabulary hasn't grown much since high school." Chase smirked again and Brad grimaced.
Fuck, Chase, don't taunt him. He doesn't need help to find an excuse to fight , Brad silently prayed.
Bobby took his shot and missed before he stood and shot back, "What? You prefer ass-monkey?"
Chase just shook his head and wondered why he was bothering to even talk to the asshole. He moved around the table and chose his shot. It put him almost directly in front of Brad. As he bend down to take his shot, his back foot hit Brad's but he didn't even bother to look down and Brad didn't bother to move.
Enjoy the view.
They got down to the eight ball, Chase not really playing to beat Bobby. He would much rather sit at the bar and watch Brad play from under the brim of his hat. That plan was ruined when the asshat he was shooting against scratched on the eight.
"Son of a bitch," Bobby cursed as he thrust his stick toward Brad. "Kick that faggot's ass. I'll get us another round." Bobby stormed off toward the bar.
"Sorry about that," Brad apologized once Bobby was out of ear shot. He moved around the table to the hand powder and it brought him almost shoulder to shoulder with Chase.
"Don't apologize for that asshat," Chase said as he powdered his own hand. Brad wasn't looking at him and Chase knew he was more than likely keeping an eye on where Bobby was in the bar.
"Busy later?" Brad asked before he started moving away to rack the balls.
"You know where I'll be," Chase replied and decided that he would head out after this game. He was already putting a plan in place.
Bobby returned with their beers and Brad wanted nothing more than to leave the bar right then. He practically ran the table against Chase but had the impression the guy wasn't trying to beat him. Not like he had done with Bobby until they got to the eight.
"That shows you, faggot!" Bobby threw at Chase when Brad sunk the eight into a side pocket. Chase just tipped his hat in Brad's direction and headed to the bar to cash out. He heard Bobby say, behind his back as he was walking away, "I should kick that faggot's ass. He was flirting with you, dude!"
Chase didn't hear Brad's reply but he couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. Just try it ass wipe and after you get out of the hospital you can kick your best friend's ass as well.
Chapter 9
Chase had a firm idea of how things would go when Brad showed up. He had no doubt that the guy wouldn't show and if he was a betting man, he would bet it would be within the next hour. Just long enough after he'd left to not arouse Bobby's suspicions.
He drug the same chair from his kitchen, that he pulled out the week before, and set it in the middle of his living room. Then he retrieved the rope that Brad hadn't taken with him. This should be interesting.
Chase had virtually no experience with kink, rope was kink, right? but he knew about restraint. Usually it was his hands and body that did the restraining but he found himself getting hard at the thought of using the rope. He looped the rope over the back of the chair before sitting down in it. He wondered if Brad would willingly let him tie him up or if they were going to end up in another wrestling match. The thought of either option made his cock twitch so he undid the button of his Wranglers.
Almost down to the minute an
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