Last week, we found Dustin with Jordan, which is getting to be a regular thing. Has Dustin found someone he can really hold onto? And what's with the visitors? Find out in this week's chapter of The Sheriff. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what they're up to. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
“Hey, sweet cheeks, mind letting the boys in?”
Dustin refrained from barking out something stupid, like why
don’t you let the boys in? That
attitude would get him nowhere. Hadn’t done him much good in the past either,
if he recalled. So he grabbed his jeans from the spot on the floor where he’d
tossed them the night before and yanked them on.
He was still buttoning them as he hurried through the living
room. The doorbell continued to clamor insistently. “Hold your damn horses, I’m
coming,” Dustin muttered under his breath just before he threw the door open.
“Hey Lenny, look who’s here.”
Rusty had all the charm of a rabid weasel, Dustin thought,
as he tried not to snarl at the two men. Thin almost to the point of
emaciation, he wore his reddish brown hair slicked back most of the time, and
he had tattoos over every inch of flesh Dustin could see or wanted to see. He
seemed to think he was a comedian, and most of his jokes were either pointless
or made at someone else’s expense. Dustin had no idea what Jordan saw in him.
He stepped back before Rusty could run him over as he
bulldozed his way into the apartment, Lenny just behind him. The two seemed to
be inseparable, at least from what Dustin had seen of them. Which was too much,
in his opinion. Not that he thought they
were a couple, or even gay. Probably couldn’t find anyone else who could stand
being around them. Even Jordan had his limits when it came to that.
Lenny was a chunky brunet cowboy with a full beard that he
liked to comb a lot. He claimed to have spent years cooking for chuck wagons,
and he swore the cowboys all loved his food.
He’d pat his overhanging belly and brag about his culinary skills.
Dustin suspected most of that gut came from lifting beers, rather than cooking
utensils.
“Hiya Dustin.” Lenny gave him a huge grin. “How’s it
hanging?” He glanced pointedly at Dustin’s crotch, which drew a guffaw from
Rusty.
“From what I hear, it hangs pretty well,” Rusty said.
Dustin’s cheeks heated at the too obvious implication. He
didn’t like the idea that Jordan discussed their sex life with these two
lowlifes, but what could he do about it? Anything he said was likely to come
out wrong and sound more than a little jealous. He wasn’t jealous of either one
of these rejects from clown college—he
just didn’t like them.
But they were Jordan’s friends, and sometimes, in a
relationship, you had to take the good with the bad. He badly wanted a
relationship like Marshall and Lee had, so he’d do what it took to get it.
“Hey, hey, watch that tongue.”
Dustin spun about at the unexpected defense. Jordan stood
thee, lounging against the wall closest
to the hall, looking completely put together and gorgeous, not like he’d just
rolled out of bed a few moments ago. Staring at him, Dustin felt his enmity
begin to drain away, caught up in the familiar thrall that Jordan held over
him.
“Don’t talk about Dusty that way, have some respect for my
man.”
Dustin tingled inside at that. Why could just a few words
from Jordan make everything so very right again? Even if he didn’t care for
that nickname.
“You know I respect the hell out of him,” Rusty insisted.
“Just playing with him. No offense taken, I hope, Dusty?”
Dustin gritted his teeth at the familiarity but decided not
to make an issue of it. “None taken,” he managed to get out. He decided he
should finish dressing. That would give him a few moments to calm down more
completely. Jordan could entertain those two for the minute or two that would
take.
As he passed by him, Jordan surprised him once again. He
grabbed Dustin around the waist, and pulled him close, laying a major liplock
on him. Dustin felt the rest of his residual anger dissipate, replaced by pure
horniness, futile though that was. Not with those two there.
“Don’t worry, baby, they won’t stay too long. And then we
can take care of that.” He laid the flat of his hand against Dustin’s crotch,
eliciting a moan. All Dustin could see and feel was Jordan. No one else
existed. With great effort, he pulled back and nodded, before continuing to the
bedroom. He could still hear the three men in the other room through the open
door.
“I got that stuff you wanted,” he heard Lenny say.
Stuff? What stuff?
“Good. Glad to hear it.” That from Jordan.
Dustin quickly pulled on his T-shirt, followed by his boots.
He gave his semi-hard cock a quick smack to remind it to behave. Now was not
the time for it to rear its head. Thinking of Lenny and Rusty waiting in the
living room helped throw water on Dustin’s raging libido. Well, at least they
were good for something.
He hurried back out to Jordan, who was sitting at one end of
the couch, the two meatheads taking up the rest of the available space,
relegating Dustin either to a chair or the floor. He tried not to glare his
displeasure at them, but it was hard.
“Babe, grab us some brews, willya?” Jordan asked, softening
the request with one of his killer smiles.
Jordan always kept his refrigerator filled with good beer,
Dustin had to give him that. He pulled out four bottles, kicked the fridge
shut, then carried them back to the living room, two in each hand. To his
surprise, he noticed the seating arrangement had changed during his brief
absence. Now Lenny and Rusty occupied the chairs, and the couch beside Jordan
was invitingly open.
to be continued
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