Lower Than the Heart by habu

Author:habu [habu]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Valentines Day GM story
Publisher: BarbarianSpy
Published: 2013-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five: The Guy in the Cowboy Hat

Trent had a highly productive night. He was so jazzed that he was working on all cylinders on inspiration and zappy one liners and got the second act of the play so polished up that he could have started back to Washington the next morning and called the retreat to the Eastern Shore a success.

But Trent didn’t go back to Washington the next morning.

He ate a leisurely breakfast after only five hours of sleep and sat in the cottage’s combination kitchen and dining room and looked out on the ocean and watched, Scandinavian movie style, the waves gently roll into the sand. He didn’t even think much in the way of thoughts. He knew he should have thought about what Buster had said concerning his life and what he needed and was avoiding. But all of that was counter to what Buster had done for—no, not for, to—Trent the previous day. That was the confusing part. He had treated Trent like he was just some convenient hole for him to get off in—and, god, could the man reload and go again fast. Leaving aside anything he said—and all of that so much more direct and ribald than Trent had ever heard before—what he actually did was just use Trent. And he used him roughly and impersonally.

And yet, now, when Trent could go back to Washington early and get right back to work and save a few expensive production days at the theater, he was dawdling. He told himself it was to get his father’s tackle box fixed. But as soon as he’d said that, he gave that same horselaugh Buster had.

No, Trent knew he definitely was still here this morning because he wanted to go back and be fucked again the way Buster had fucked him before—and not just once. So, how did that set with the life’s advice Buster had given him?—that love wasn’t the answer for a man; a buried cock and an ejaculation were. That it was all about something lower than the heart. He didn’t want to even begin to unravel that one today.

So, after a couple of hours of just watching the ocean monotonously be the ocean, Trent dressed in jeans and a T, went out and got into the car, and drove into Oyster.

He parked next to the small CVS drugstore and had to wait in the car for a few minutes because a long-distance bus stopped there to let passengers off and momentarily blocked him in from opening his door.

As he watched the front of the bus through the car’s windshield, Trent saw a young man, clearly no older than he was and quite probably younger, probably no older than nineteen, step off the bus. He looked like he’d stepped off a western ranch and into an entirely different world. He was slim and tall and good-looking. He also looked like he either was Hispanic or had some mix of that in him. He was wearing

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