Straight Town: Chapter 5

By Wesley Bracken -
published July 29, 2019

Kevin and Steve try to come to grips with what happened the night before, but their mutual fear and anger gets in the way of trust.

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Maybe it would have been easier, if things could have been left at that, but things are rarely so easy, especially not in this town. Kevin woke up on the couch the next day, when Michelle got up, gave a snort, and shook him awake–reminding him that he was well on his way to being late, yet again. She didn’t bother asking him when he’d gotten home the night before, he had stopped caring about that years before, when she had realized that Kevin didn’t appreciate, or even want, her concern. Besides, it was better sometimes, when he was out late–Rod liked to take his time, which Kevin seemed incapable of doing.

Kevin had hoped that the amount of shit he’d drunk would be enough to blur out the memory from the night before, but to his dismay, he found he could recall what he’d done with Steve quite clearly–and that this wasn’t all that he could recall between them now. A man that he had hardly even known from around town the day before, was suddenly…there, everywhere in his memory–but he also knew that they weren’t the right memories, the ones he should have had of him, from…before.

Kevin and Steve had always known of each other, from the day Kevin settled into town…years ago? It had to be years, but it felt like he hadn’t been here for very long at all. Things…hadn’t gotten off to a great start between them–the uptight law abiding deputy and the slovenly, rebellious biker. In fact, things had been outright antagonistic, until one night, much like the night before, when Steve had arrested him, and things had gotten out of hand back at the station. But hadn’t the night before been their first time together? Everything felt slippery to him, but what scared him the most, was when Michelle joked that she’d heard Steve had picked him up at the bar, and figured she’d have to bail him out as usual before getting to the restaurant. Kevin grumbled something about getting let off with a warning, got coffee instead of a beer for once, and smoked a cigarette, trying to sort out what was going on.

They had fucked, and his whole fucking mind had changed. He could…remember now how, on the surface, they kept up a certain tension around town, but, well, Kevin was always finding some excuse for Steve to arrest him, so they could get a few hours together. They knew it wasn’t…right, but it helped them stay sane, in a way. Besides, as long as their wives never found out, what did it matter? Hell, it wasn’t like Michelle wasn’t banging Ron behind Kevin’s back, and Kevin had an inkling Christine might have her legs open for a few other people too–given how this town seemed to work. On the surface, everyone was congenial, but behind their doors together, well, sometimes it seemed like everyone was fucking everyone else, and the kids just…kept coming.

He wanted to find something to say to her, something about their strange argument the day before. He couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize, especially without even knowing what he might have done wrong. She would see through that shit immediately if he tried it. Before he could work anything out, two of his boys came charging in at that point, muddy from something they had been doing outside, but now hungry again, even though they’d already had breakfast at some point, while Kevin was snoring (his boys didn’t dare wake him up, for fear of his wrath, but thankfully, Kevin slept hard). Their sudden appearance turned his stomach in the same way they always did–he knew that they were his (no, not his, he wasn’t comfortable with owning them, or claiming them–but they were…of him, he couldn’t deny it, at least for two of them.) Michelle got them sorted out, while Kevin sat, drinking his coffee, thinking about the night before, thinking about how he couldn’t possibly feel at home here, thinking about how he hated this, all of it. Without even bothering to change his clothes or shower, he left–he had to get to work, in any case, and that was as good an excuse as any. Riding towards town, it took all the effort he could manage not to drive by the station and look for him, or even worse, to ride by his house and see if he was still home. He couldn’t let anyone see them together, not like that. It wasn’t…safe, not here. Behind closed doors they could get away with more, but out in the open, people might get ideas.

So he rode into work, trying not to think about it anymore than he had too. Ron was understanding about his lateness, like usual, but Kevin could tell it was stretching his patience. He had to get his shit together. Stop drinking so much, try to patch things up with Michelle, try to be a father, rather than just a lout who stumbled in at night and crashed on the couch. He could be better, couldn’t he? Didn’t he want to be better? He got to work on the car in the shop at that moment, eager for something to distract him a bit, but his hands kept shaking as he remembered what he’d done the night before, how right it had felt, somehow. He should settle down, try and be a good father, but a new line of potential was unfurling for him, some strange, half-baked, adolescent thing. He could ride off with Steve. They could just leave, together, and never come back here, ever. They could be happy together, couldn’t they? Why not? He took a few deep breaths, looked over at where Ron was working on another car, and adjusted his cock, mostly hard in the front of his jeans. It was silly. It was impossible, really. He bent back over the engine, and got to work.

It was an hour later, when Steve rolled up in his patrol car, parked it, and went inside the office to talk to Ron, who was busying himself with some paperwork. Kevin didn’t even notice–he was underneath the car, focusing and fiddling. It wasn’t until he had gotten back out, and found himself standing next to the familiar vehicle as Ron pulled it into the garage, that he looked over at the glass window between the garage and the waiting room, and saw Steve sitting there, magazine in his lap, but his eyes looking right at Kevin instead. His throat caught, and he just stood there, rubbing a rag between his fingers, unable to move any part of his body other than those, until he yanked his eyes away and down at the greasy floor of the garage.

“Just an oil change and an inspection for this one, Kevin,” Ron said, “Steve’s fine if he has to wait–he said he has time this afternoon,” and headed back into the office to keep doing some paperwork. Kevin nodded, and then tried to focus on finishing up the first job, but his mind was racing. Was it a coincidence? Had he come here to see him? To talk? To fuck? He didn’t know how to react, and so all he could do was keep working, trying his best to stay on the side of the car that let him keep an eye on Steve, and see what he wanted him to do.

When Steve was sure he had Kevin’s attention, he went up to where Ron was at the desk, and asked to borrow the bathroom key. The garage was old, and had two detached bathrooms with doors in the back of the building. Ron handed him one, and before Ron could look over and see that Kevin had disappeared as well, he slipped out of the garage, around the other side of the building, just as Steve was coming around himself, key in hand. They said nothing to each other until they were inside one of the small rooms, hot in the warm summer afternoon, dingy and smelling faintly of piss, since neither Ron or Kevin got around to cleaning them out very often, since they were usually the only people who used them, generally.

“Alright, what the fuck happened last night?” Steve asked, “I…I went from not knowing who the hell you even were, and suddenly–what the fuck have we been doing? How could I fucking forget any of that? Why…”

“I didn’t remember shit either,” Kevin said, “I woke up this morning, and…” his mouth went dry. Kevin…didn’t want to talk. There were so many things he wanted to do, but talking wasn’t even close to the top of the list. This close to him, in the confined space, he could smell him, smell both of them, in fact, just like they had smelled last night in the cell. He stepped closer, wanting to kiss him, but before he could even get close, Steve shoved him against the door to the bathroom, hard enough to knock his head against the metal door. “What the fuck was that for, you fucking piece of shit?”

“You think I fucking came here to fucking fuck you?” Steve snarled at him, “I want to know what the fuck you did to me back there, last night. I–I have never so much as looked at another man like that, never so much wanted to touch a cock, and then you step in there, and I…you fucking drugged me, you did something! I’m a good person, I’m a police officer, people count on me, and I know what’s good–and you, you’re a real fucking piece of shit, I can tell you that. I should have thrown you and that bitch wife of yours out of town when you first rolled in here, I knew you were going to be nothing but fucking trouble!”

Kevin saw the windup, knew that Steve was going to try and punch him again, and instead of giving him a chance, he pushed off the door and slammed into him, throwing him against the wall across, and pinning him there, chest to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock. He could feel it, how hard Steve was–just as hard as he was. “You didn’t come here to fuck, you said, but I can feel how fucking hard you are, you fucking pig.”

Steve spat in his face. “I’m not some fucking biker faggot like you, I have fucking principles!” Steve tried to shove him off, but Kevin was heavier, and more practiced with this sort of brawl–that, and he was angrier than he could remember being in his life. They’d both cried last night. Kevin hadn’t cried in years, he hadn’t cried when any of his boys had been born, but he’d cried for this man, for this fucking cop pig! Just this morning, he’d been dreaming about running off together, leaving all of this behind, and now this is what he was getting back from him? He was angry, he was horny–and fuck it, he wasn’t going to waste this fucking chance.

He grabbed Steve by the hair, and knocked his head against the wall, hard enough to stun him, and then shoved him down onto his knees in the bathroom, fiddling with his jeans, getting his hard cock out, “Fucking pig–you wanna know who’s the real fucking faggot around here? It’s fucking you, and you fucking know it. You came here, you were looking for me. You wanted this, I fucking know you do, now fucking open up–I can’t have you looking all beat up when Ron gets a look at you when you go back–but I will if I have to.”

Kevin gripped the hair on Steve’s scalp and pulled, the cop crying out, but before he could get words out, Kevin shoved his cock into his mouth and started fucking him, rough–and fuck, it felt good, letting go like this, giving into this so easily, and so naturally, he could…could almost remember…something. He fucked harder. Steve had stopped fighting so hard, and was just focusing on trying to find a minute to breathe when he could get the chance around Kevin’s cock. Where the night before, their sex had felt intimate and revelatory, this was brutal and unyielding, humilating, and all Steve wanted was for it to be over. It was, soon enough–Kevin pulled his cock free and shot his load all over Steve’s face, wiping the head across his mustache, and laughing at him.

“Now that’s the kind of look I like on my cops pigs,” he said, and pulled his fly back together.

Steve just stayed on his knees for a moment, unable to process what had just happened. He had come here for an explanation, and to threaten him, that if Kevin ever told anyone about what had just happened, he would hunt him down. He was so lost in his own horror, that he didn’t notice Kevin pull out his phone and take a picture of Steve, still on his knees and cum all over his face. Steve snarled, swung for the phone on Kevin’s hands, but Kevin just laughed, and shoved Steve back with one boot to the chest.

“Now now, I can’t have you going back to the waiting room with a broken nose–so behave, pig,” he sneered at him. “It’s just a little insurance is all–right? I can’t have you getting any bright ideas.”

“You can’t fucking do this–you’re a fucking low life piece of trailer trash, who the fuck would believe you?” Steve spat at him, wiping his face with one hand.

“Please, you ain’t gonna tell nobody about any of this. I know what a pig like you is going to do. I’m going to leave, and then you’re going to bust a nut in your hand, and lick it right up. I get it, you have a bit of pride, I can admire that, but you don’t have to pretend around me, pig, I know what you really came here for–and you can come on by whenever you want–you don’t even need an oil change for an excuse.”

With that, Kevin left, leaving Steve inside, and he hovered outside the door, and listened. No sound of a sink, immediately. He could hear a quiet slap, a little moan–he was right, the fucking whore. To think, just a few hours ago, he’d been thinking of riding off with this piece of faggot shit, just like that–well no fucking way was that going to happen. He wasn’t about to be seen riding the highways with some faggot like that, right? He straightened up his own clothes, wiped his hands off with his rag, and went back around to the garage, and resumed his work. Ron either hadn’t noticed his absence, or didn’t care–he was still in the office doing his paperwork. A few minutes later, when Kevin popped back up, he saw that Steve had returned to the waiting room, and was no longer reading his magazine–just trying not to shake. His face was wet, as was his hair–he had tried to clean himself up eventually. He looked over, through the window, caught Kevin’s eye–and then looked away. Angry and ashamed, but it was an admission too–he’d needed it, more than he’d really known.

But as Kevin tried to focus on the car, he doubted it. What had happened the night before, there had been something there. There was…a completeness they had shared, a vulnerability. He tried to grasp for it, feeling something there, some truth, or some other person, but it was gone. In its place, some of his memories of their prior encounters were now colored differently. Where before, he had recalled them as something more comradely, if not romantic, now everything was more lopsided. He’d bullied Steve into sex multiple times since that first time in the jail house, taking out his frustration with feeling so alienated at his own home with Michelle and the boys, that the ability to exert power over someone–especially a cop!–was a more potent aphrodisiac that he had been prepared for. It helped that no matter what sort of humiliation he forced on him, Steve had never reported him, had never refused him–he could tell that the cop wanted this too–and in Kevin’s mind, that made him a faggot–though in all honesty he wanted it just as much.

But it was a safe thing, drawing that boundary. Kevin was safely on one side, his masculinity, and his humanity, intact. Steve on the other hand, well, he was there to be used, wasn’t he? Not something that he had to care about, not something he even had to worry about. Steve was a slave to his own perversions, obviously. The fact that Kevin would fantasize about sex with him for days, dreaming up new, twisted shit to do to his private pig, meant nothing to him. He was in control. He was the man. For the first time in a week he felt…proud, somehow. He knew that, even with all of his own failures, even with everything about his life that he hated, he was better than this faggot, at least.

Ron left before him to get dinner, as usual. After closing up, Kevin skipped the bar that evening, and went to the restaurant instead. He’d arrived to find Ron sitting at the bar, leaning over and chatting with Michelle, his eyes firmly planted on her breasts. She saw him first, and turned away from Ron, blushing. He turned around, saw Kevin standing at the door, staring at him, and he could see the older, pudgier man gulp. He took a seat beside him; it only made sense, right, to have a dinner with his boss for a change? They were both quiet–they knew they were caught, right there in the open, and all they could do was eat shit as Kevin chatted with them both, asked her why she had never mentioned becoming so familiar with his boss at the garage, asking Ron when he’d started eating here, when Kevin knew, for a fact, that Ron’s wife, Linda, was an excellent cook. Ron finished his meal as quickly as he could, paid, and fled. Kevin ate slowly, drawing things out a bit, and then told Michelle that he would see her at home.

That evening was the first one he’d spent home with his boys for the last week. It was the first time he could even tolerate being near them, appreciating them. They watched old action movies on the TV, ones his boys had seen countless times, and as he watched them, Kevin could remember them all as well. Michelle arrived home a couple of hours later, with some dinners from the restaurant for the boys to eat, and as soon as Kevin could pry her loose from them, he dragged her off to their bedroom, and fucked the daylights out of her, fucked her like they hadn’t fucked in years, since they’d been on the road together, since neither of them had had a care in the whole damn world–but even that hadn’t compared to the night before, and Kevin knew it.

She confessed, afterwards, to the affair. She had been lonely, Kevin had been so distant, but she was careful not to blame him for her own folly. Kevin told her that he understood, and that he honestly didn’t care. It had just been too damn good an opportunity, making Ron eat shit like that, right there in front of everyone having a nice family dinner, the fucker. He kissed her again. They’d promised they wouldn’t fall into that usual shit, that their relationship would be different. Besides, he knew she’d been a stripper when he met her–hell, his first time with her, he’d paid for a threesome with her and her best friend at the club. He couldn’t begrudge her needing to get laid–especially when he hadn’t exactly been the easiest fellow to live with for a while now.

“I’m sorry babe, I really am,” he said, “I thought–when we met, we had the world, and I wanted you more than anything else. Things…changed,” he said, with a frown, still not entirely sure how to name what that change was, or why, for the last week, it had felt so…blatant, like some tectonic crack along the faultline of his ego. “We had kids, we settled down, got the closest thing to real jobs either of us have ever had…but I want you here because you want to be here, with me, understand? If you wanna fuck a few guys on the side, well, I can’t say I’ve always been perfectly faithful either.”

Kevin didn’t know what he’d been hoping for, but Michelle just looked at him, ran her hands along her body, and sighed.

“You alright?”

“I suppose so,” was all she said in reply.

“I feel like there’s something ya ain’t tellin’ me.”

“She looked at him then, in the dark. They could hear the boys hollering at the TV still. One of them would have to get up soon, and force them all into bed. “Promise me, things can stay like this. Promise me you won’t make a mess of it, and…I don’t want to lose anymore, Kev.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant exactly, but he nodded. She got up, threw on a robe, and started yelling at the boys to get cleaned up and into bed already, before their neighbors started knocking and complaining. The boys whined, but obeyed. They were good boys, really. He should be proud of them. But he didn’t fall asleep thinking of them, or of Michelle. He was thinking of Steve, of when he might see him next, and he dreamed of him too–but it was gone by the time he’d woken up, hard enough to give Michelle another fuck before getting to work–arriving on time for the first time in ages, Ron speaking to him as an equal…maybe he could make a real kind of life here after all.

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