Nolan took a deep breath and released it on a controlled exhale then walked across the lodge dining room. He tugged out his order pad and pen as he approached the table of young men, early twenties most of them. Nolan was careful to avoid eye contact, especially with Lane Cassiter. A couple of the guys were new faces, but Lane was an annual regular at the Winterhaven ski lodge that Nolan had mixed feelings about seeing each year. Mixed in that the guy was fucking hot and gave Nolan a raging hard-on every time he laid eyes on him –but emotionally turned off by the man’s ego and blatant bigotry.
“What can I get you?” Nolan asked, knowing what was coming. Lane and his group never failed to flick him shit over his delicate appearance. Nolan didn’t try to hide his homosexuality and had no qualms about wearing eyeliner, an earring, and clothes that hugged his slim body rather tightly.
“Well, well,” Lane snorted and leaned back in his chair, eyes lazy. “If it isn’t the local queer boy. Did you miss us?”
Nolan met his stare unwavering. Had they not been filled with such disdain, Lane’s aqua eyes would have been quite beautiful, accentuated by the natural copper highlights in his light brown hair. “What’s not to miss?” Nolan replied dryly. “Are you ready to order?”
Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, Lane smiled coolly. “Yeah, I’d like someone not so queer to take my order and bring me my food.” He had a strong athletic build—not too lean or too bulky—and his perfectly rounded biceps strained the long sleeves of his gray shirt with the tiny skier emblem over his left pec muscle.
Nolan shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “We’re all out of not-so-queer waiters. Would you like something else?”
Nolan glanced around to see a nicely built, blond young man about Nolan’s age approaching from the entrance of the dining room, a smile on his face. “I hear you’re racing tomorrow.” He squeezed Nolan’s arm and winked. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be rooting for you.”
“Thanks, Drew,” Nolan smiled as the guy moved on past.
“Racing?” Lane’s interest was suddenly piqued. “Tomorrow? The big race—down Avalanche Alley?”
Nolan looked at him and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Fuck,” Lane laughed, and the others joined in. “You don’t seriously expect to place, do you?”
Scratching his temple with the end of his pen, Nolan said, “I expect to win.”
“Win…” Another burst of laughter made its rounds through the small group. “You’re fucking kidding, right? You do realize you’ll be racing against me?”
“Yeah, so?” Nolan returned, unfazed. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?”
“You’ll be lucky if you survive the run.”
Nolan just looked at him. He didn’t bother to inform him that he’d made the run many times. It could be dangerous—for an amateur—but Nolan was no novice to the slopes.
The guy sitting to Lane’s right shook his head. “You really think you can beat Lane?” He was slightly more muscular than Lane with a head of short, dark hair that appeared black except when the light caught it just right and revealed a sable tint.
The girl latched onto his arm rolled her eyes. “You’re living in la la land for sure if you think you stand a chance against Lane.” She flipped her strawberry blond mane over her right shoulder and smiled smartly.
Nolan returned the smile. “We’ll see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lane narrowed his pretty eyes.
Nolan quivered within but didn’t let it show. He shrugged. “Nothing. Just that, we’ll see who the winner is at the finish line.” He cocked a neatly trimmed eyebrow. “I have other customers to attend to. So if you want to order something…”
“You’re that confident?” the guy next to Lane snorted. “Really?”
Lowering the order pad, Nolan met his stare. “You think because I’m gay I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell?”
The guy glanced at Lane, and they both snickered.
“To answer your question,” Nolan said. “Yeah, I’m that confident.”
The two men looked at him, along with the rest of the group. “Confident enough to…” the guy smirked and shot Lane a quick look. “…wager on it?”
“Wager?” Nolan looked at him doubtfully.
“It means to make a bet.”
Nolan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know what it means,” he replied with a smidge of annoyance. “Wager what? Money? I’m not afraid to put money on the race.”
“Betting money is cliché, and boring,” the guy said. He leaned forward on his elbows and smiled slyly. “How about we make it interesting?”
Something in the man’s stare warned Nolan to tread cautiously. “Interesting…how?”
The guy licked his lips and looked at Lane again, then smiled at Nolan. “If Lane here wins…” he patted Lane’s shoulder. “…then you have to fuck a girl.” He glanced at his girlfriend. “Like Tonya here.”
“Todd! Ugh!” Tonya slapped his arm hard. “No way! I’m not screwing some faggot. Gross!”
Nolan looked at him. Was he serious?
Todd laughed and cringed away from Tonya’s fury. “Okay, so not you,” he grinned at his girlfriend. “But I’m sure there’s a chick up here somewhere who would do a queer boy.”
His expression neutral, Nolan asked, “And if I win?”
Todd glanced at Lane, who was watching him expectantly, clearly not privy to his friend’s plan. Todd squeezed Lane’s shoulder and grinned at Nolan. “You can fuck Lane.”
“What?” Lane shot to his feet and sent his chair tumbling over with a crash. “What the fuck? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Todd ducked with a laugh, anticipating a swing, as the others busted up. Lane stood rigidly, fists clenched at his sides, face taut with tension and rage. Something else flickered through his eyes when he shot Nolan a cold look. It was barely there, but Nolan caught it; fear and uncertainty.
“Easy.” Todd stood up and gripped Lane’s arm and shoulder, choking on his laughter. “You can blow this cake boy off the slopes.”
‘Blow me’ off the slopes? Nolan’s pulse picked up speed as his mind exploded with images of Lane Cassiter sucking his cock—and fucking him hard and wild on Nolan’s bed.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Lane hissed. “I’m not-”
“Okay,” Nolan interjected. “I’ll take that wager.”
Lane drilled him with an icy glare. Again, fear rippled behind his aqua eyes. “No fucking way,” he growled.
Nolan pursed his lips in a smug smile. “Just what I thought.”
“What?” Lane snapped.
“You really don’t think you can beat me.” He shrugged. “At least we’re in agreement now.”
“Fuck you!” Lane shot back.
Nolan nodded. “That is the bet,” he murmured. “Are you confident enough to accept it?”
When Lane hesitated, Todd egged him on. “Come on, man. You’ll wipe the slopes with him.” He smirked at Nolan. “Then the little queer boy has to nail a chick. Maybe a little pussy will convert him.”
Lane relaxed a little, but a measure of visible tension still gripped him. “When you lose…” he jabbed a finger at Nolan. “No backing out of the bet.”
“I’m a man of my word,” Nolan told him. “Are you?” He held Lane’s stare. “How do I know that you and your buddies here won’t tell me to go fuck myself when you lose? Because you’re looking pretty chicken shit right now, and I just don’t think you’ll uphold your end of the bargain. Are you really willing to put your ass on the line?” He smiled. “Literally.”
“I’m not chicken shit,” Lane said tightly with an unexpected depth of defensiveness behind his words. “And I don’t have to worry about my ass because I don’t intend to lose.”
“All right then.” Nolan walked around the table and held out his hand to Lane. “It’s a bet.”
Lane stared at his hand with visible uncertainty, then quickly sealed the deal and withdrew from Nolan’s touch.
“What the fuck?” Lane had kept his cool for the duration of their time in the dining room, maintaining a nonchalant air for the sake of the little queer who cast repeated glances his way. But his calm exterior evaporated the instant he stepped into his room, followed by Todd.
“What?” Todd stared at him, a half smirk on his lips that Lane itched to punch off.
“What the fuck do you think?” Lane smacked him flat-palmed in the chest, knocking him against the wall. “Why the hell did you do that? Huh?” He slapped Todd in the side of the head. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Fuck.” Todd ducked away from him and raked his fingers through his hair, his smirk morphing into a scowl. “Calm down. It’s not like you’re gonna lose.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” Lane snapped. “Why in the fuck would you make that bet?”
“Shit, Lane,” Todd chuckled, his amusement returning. “Get a grip. You’re gonna wipe the slopes with him.”
Lane clenched his fists. “That isn’t the fucking point. In what universe was it okay to put my ass on the line?”
Shaking his head, Todd snickered. “Because I figured that was the quickest way to get the fag boy to make the bet.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lane frowned.
“Oh come on,” Todd laughed. “You seriously can’t tell he has a major hard-on for you?”
“What?” Lane stared at him. “That little faggot hates me.”
Todd shrugged and grinned. “That may be true. But I’d bet my left nut he’s fantasized about fucking you. Maybe tying you down…” he snickered again. “…making you submit.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Lane glared at him. “He doesn’t think about me that way.”
“Then why did he jump on that bet?” Todd inquired. “He really thinks he’s going to win. He so wants your ass.”
Lane swallowed tightly, his heart pounding. “And what if something goes wrong and he does win?” he hissed. “I am not serving up my ass.”
“Uh…” Todd chuckled and scratched his temple. “Well, you kind of have to. You did shake on it, in public.” He laughed and ducked when Lane swung on him. “What’re you worried about? Nothing’s gonna go wrong. You’ll whip his ass before he can nail yours.”
Lane jabbed a rigid finger at him. “You had better fucking hope that nothing goes wrong. Because if I lose –I’m not the only one who’s getting ass fucked.”
“What do you mean?”
Stepping forward, Lane stabbed his finger into Todd’s chest. “You’re going to renegotiate the fucking bet.” His face twitched. “My ass is not going to be the only ass on the line out there tomorrow.”
Todd swallowed, and his cockiness evaporated in the blink of an eye. “What’re you talking about?”
© Copyright 2017 AMS1971. All rights reserved.
Book / Erotica
Book / Gay and Lesbian
Book / Gay and Lesbian