Agape Ch. 01

This story was inspired by the lyrics to Tom Waits' I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You.The story was originally to be a stand-alone piece, but I enjoyed writing the characters so much that I had to continue telling their story.

Chapter 2 will follow soon.

Agape (noun): Love, especially that which is spiritual and selfless in nature.

*

Dusty walked into the bar, searching for an empty table where he could sit and nurse his thoughts, along with a few beers. He found one towards the back of the room and began making his way toward it. Then he stopped in his tracks; there, at a tiny table, sat two men. Pint glasses full of beer sat on the table in front of them, sweating lazily. The younger of the two had caught his eye, but Dusty wasn't quite sure why.He shook the guy's image from his mind and snaked through the rest of the crowd, claiming the table in the dark corner.

A waitress made her way to his table, snapping her gum and looking bored.

"What'll it be, hon?"

"Guinness, please. Draft."

"Yawannatab?" she asked, as if it were all one word.

"Sure," he replied, "Thanks."

"Berightback." She meandered slowly, like a tiny arthritic cow.

Dusty glanced around the bar while he waited; his gaze fell once more on the two men at the table near the center of the barroom. The younger one was dark in complexion with jet black hair and icy blue eyes. He was thin but looked strong. Individually, his features were not so striking; when taken as a whole, he looked beautifully haunted.

An old soul, thought Dusty, in a new incarnation. When he realised how rude he was, staring at the boy, and went to turn away, the other man turned and looked directly at Dusty. He felt as though his soul was being examined by those cold eyes. He broke their eye contact and turned to glance toward the bar. He was grateful to see the waitress approaching with his beer.

She set the pint down in front of Dusty, and he asked her to bring another when she had a chance. Then she nodded and ambled off to the next table. He tossed back half the beer in one gulp.

Dusty felt compelled to turn his head, to see the dark man's face once more. The hour grew late and the place was filling up quickly. For a moment, when their eyes met, he entertained the notion of beckoning the young man to his table.

I wonder what we'd talk about, Dusty thought. He startled himself by chuckling out loud. He had to be at least fifteen years the boy's senior, and knew nothing about him except that he was beautiful in a very unique way.

The dark, handsome man pulled a slim case from his pocket and flicked it open with his thumb. He took a brown cigarette from it, which he settled between his lips and set aflame. In the light of the Zippo's fire, he stared hard at Dusty.

Dusty's cock stirred, and he wished he had the nerve to walk over to the young man's table. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to approach the boy, casually bum a smoke and end up sitting with him until the bar closed and its occupants were swept out onto the sidewalk by the annoyed staff.

What the hell am I doing? he thought to himself. Lusting after a pretty boy? The mystery man smiled at Dusty, who thought his heart might break; that grin was so ironic, so sad-looking.

The waitress was making her way back to Dusty's table, with another pint of Guinness on her tray. She set it silently in front of him, waited a moment and then finally walked away. Dusty had draped his hand over the bulge in his pants; while it seemed too dark for anyone to notice his erection under the table, it was still just a tad embarrassing.

He turned again, seeking the younger man's gaze. The first thing he noticed was that the boy's companion seemed to have left. Now, there was only one beer on the small table, kept company by a glass of what looked like whiskey. Suddenly, the table's lone occupant seemed so lonesome... Dusty drained the rest of his first beer and started on the second, hoping for a bit of liquid courage. It had been so long since he'd even tried to pick up a guy in a bar, he hardly felt like he knew what he was doing.

He heard the bartender shout, "Last call!" He hadn't realised the hour had grown so late.

Dusty got the attention of his sad little waitress, ordered a final drink and pointed to the stranger's table.

"I'd like it over there, please. And one of whatever he's drinking."

The waitress nodded and wandered off to the next group.

Dusty couldn't quite bring himself to stop at the boy's table yet. He continued past it, on to the men's room. Once there, he realised that he couldn't very well whip out his hard cock and expect to urinate in an orderly fashion. Thankfully, the restroom was otherwise empty. He splashed some water on his face and headed to what he hoped might be love at first word, or at least something that led to incredibly hot sex – though he suspected he wouldn't be so lucky.

Two drinks awaited Dusty's arrival at the table. The boy, however, was nowhere to be seen. The waitress gave him the bill and waited until he'd paid, then bade him a safe journey home.

Struggling to choke back the tears that had invaded his eyes, Dusty sighed. I'm just an old clown. What the hell was I thinking? What did I think he would have seen in me? He gulped down the double shot of Maker's Mark intended for the dark stranger, drank his stout in one go, and headed for the exit.

* * *

The young man stood outside the bar, smoking another brown cigarette. He smiled coyly and stuck out his hand.

"I am Dmitri." He had a Mediterranean accent.

"Uh... Dusty."

"I saw you watching me. Do I know you?"

"No. I just... I'm sorry. You're a very striking fella. I've never seen eyes so blue."

"Ah, so I did understand your looks correctly. Would you like to come to my home? It is cold outside, but there I can make us drinks and we will be warm."

Their eyes locked together. Dusty forgot to breathe for a few moments.

"Yes, please." For good or bad, he was hooked. In the space of a couple of hours, he'd gone and fallen completely in lust with a beautiful stranger. Now that young, gorgeous man had invited Dusty to his home. He didn't know whether he was awake or dreaming, suddenly, and he didn't care. He just wanted to hold Dmitri and inhale the scent of his strange cigarettes.

The two men hailed a taxi. They rode in silence for a short while, caught in post-bar traffic. Dusty concentrated mainly on breathing, afraid that he might break the spell if he were to touch Dmitri. Then he felt the young man's hand cover his own.

"Why do you look so solemn?" the younger man asked.

"I'm afraid that you're going to break my heart," Dusty replied.

"That is not my intention."

"And I don't know what I'm doing here."

Dusty looked up into Dmitri's face, and he saw understanding there.

"You are lonely, and so am I. You are here because we need each other's company. Now, just hold my hand. Ok?"

Unable to speak, Dusty gripped the boy's hand with all the affection and strength he could muster. He wondered how he had ended up here and now; seeing Dmitri at the bar already seemed so long ago.

Eventually, the taxi stopped in front of a tall apartment building. Dmitri paid the driver, refusing the money that Dusty offered. They walked up the front steps, through a lobby... Down a hallway. Into a rickety old elevator.

They were between floors when Dmitri flipped a switch. The elderly machine creaked to a slow stop.

"What are you doing?" Dusty asked. He did not raise his voice. In fact, he wasn't in the least bit alarmed. He was merely curious.

"I need you," replied the boy, simply. He wrapped his arms around Dusty's neck and crushed his body with his own. Their anatomies throbbed gently together through denim and the metal teeth of zippers.

Dmitri pressed his lips to the other man's. He tangled his fingers through messy locks of curly brown hair and breathed into Dusty.

They stayed there for some time, kissing, caressing and sharing sweet, warm breath. In all his years, with all of the men he'd met in sketchy places, Dusty had never felt like he did right then.

He suddenly felt whole. He felt complete. He felt like he'd come home, in a sense. And, having just met Dmitri, he was more than a little freaked out by this realisation.

There was a loud clanging noise from below the elevator.

"Oops," said Dmitri. "We will go upstairs now."

Dusty laughed with his companion, then ran fingers through his mop of wild hair. Dmitri flipped the elevator's switch and it shrieked as it resumed its slow ascent.