m/m Authentically Built

[londonboy]

 

“You never know when a chance like this is going to come along, do you?”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

Sam couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the beefy stud leaning against the pole on the side of the bike path when he stopped to fix his slipped chain.  This was the third time today that the bloody thing had come undone.  Marco, however, had noticed Sam before he had even stopped – when he was pedaling down the path from the direction of Malibu.  The ‘gaydar’ of both men was instantly shooting off the charts.  An unspoken understanding naturally connected them.  It felt like you had just put on a warm jacket in the middle of winter.   

 

“Your bike, breaking down right here.  Right in front of me.”

 

“I don’t really believe in the idea of fate . . . you know, a pre-determined course of events.”

 

“Ah, I see, but do you believe in seizing opportunities if they come when least expected.  Are you one of those people that can be ‘in the moment’ and see a potential path unfolding even before it does?”

 

“Who knew stopping to fix the chain on my bike would lead to such a philosophical conversation.”  

 

Sam immediately liked the banter.  This guy wasn’t just a pretty pair of pecs and veiny biceps.  He had a personality.  He briefly worried that the man might be a hustler – the package seemed just too perfect to be a random conversation.  Sam pushed the thought out of his mind – he decided he should just be ‘in the moment.’  Marco had anticipated the tall, lanky, nicely muscled, dirty-blonde biker would be interesting.  There had been something about the intensity of his pedaling and his furrowed brow as he zoomed up the path. 

 

“Life is like a box of chocolates…”

 

“You nevuh know what you’re gonna git.”

 

“That southern accent sounds authentic.”

 

“I’m originally from Tennessee.”

 

“I’m originally from Los Angeles.”

 

“I can tell.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“Those biceps weren’t grown in Toledo.  Trust me, that body is authentically Californian.  And all natural, I might add.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“I’m in pharmaceuticals.  I know the difference between store-bought muscles and those made the good old-fashioned way.  It’s a gift that helps me at dinner parties – or gets me in trouble.”

 

“Not into all that fake stuff, huh?”

 

“I’m not one to be impressed by ‘stuff’ – and it seems, to me, if you have to add stuff to your body the way you might stock your wardrobe, then chances are you’re not going to be too authentic.  I’m into natural.  Chemically enhanced vegetables tend to lose a lot of their flavor.  The same thing can happen to a guy, too.”

 

“Listen to you, our little Tennessean philosopher.”

 

“Another gift that rarely makes me popular at dinner parties.”

 

“You seem to go to a lot of those . . . dinner parties.”

 

“I’m perpetually making tables even out – the forever pitied single friend.”

 

“Why is that, Mr. Tennessee?”

 

“People say I’m too picky.  Too cynical.  Too OCD.  Too demanding.  Too detached.  Take your pick.”

 

“Could it be . . .  you’re just waiting.”

 

“For what?  My fate?  Remember, I’m not one to believe that just around the corner is my destiny sitting on a nice romantic white horse.”

 

“Why is it always a white horse?”

 

“Not sure – if it’s somehow supposed to signify purity I’m afraid I’m not buying into that fantasy.  Give me a dark beast over that any day.  And what about you?  Single?”

 

“As solo as they come, I’m happy to say.”

 

“Why is that happy?”

 

“Let’s just say it leaves me open to opportunities.  It helps me live ‘in the moment’.”

 

“Annnnnd we’re back to being philosophical.”

 

“Or something like that.  Maybe more like metaphorical.”

 

Sam looked up from his squatting position beside the bike.  Both men stared at each other without breathing for a few seconds.  The euphoria that comes from easy flirtation overwhelmed both of them.  Marco marveled at how simple it was sometimes for a conversation to float into undercurrents that stirred the loins.  He found Mr. Tennessee charming even if he was on a Schwinn instead of a white horse.  Sam was the first to break the magical moment.

 

“I bet you’re popular at dinner parties, though.  You have the perfect build for it.”

 

“I’m really more of a backyard BBQ kind of guy.  Being shirtless suits me more than dressing up.”

 

“I can see why.”

 

“Thanks for the compliment.  I actually didn’t think you were that impressed, Mr. Tennessee.”

“Why’s that?”

 

“You didn’t stare at me like I was a piece of beef being offered to a pack of wolves.  As a matter of fact, you didn’t stare at all – only glanced.”

 

“Traps for days, rounded pecs dusted with gorgeous fur, bulging biceps with thick veins snaking across them, a washboard stomach just screaming for laundry, sexy hard-bristled beard that doesn’t fully connect with the handsome mustache, a thick bottom lip just ripe for chewing, charcoal bedroom eyes, and a lovely watch.  Staring is overrated.  I say learn how to notice details quickly.”

 

“Man, you could be a spy.”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

Eyes locked again.  The stirring in the groin had gotten even more noticeable for both men.  Marco kept looking for some flaw to reveal itself in the man before him.  He carefully looked for something that would signal the guy was a psychopath or, even worse, an actual total bore.  At the same time, Sam was waiting for dialogue that would expose deeply rooted narcissistic tendencies that usually came with a body like the one before him.  The back of his mind also kept expecting the conversation to smoothly move to the topic of payment and the fact that credit cards were not accepted.  It was just a fact that both men knew that banter like this was frequently too good to be true.  This kind of immediate attraction was only available in chick-flicks or hazy, alcohol-influenced, bar hookups that turn into ‘what the hell was I thinking’ mornings.  Today had been just a regular Saturday for both men until that glorious chain had slipped.

 

“I like details.  Especially when they are very handsome details.”

 

Normally, Marco would find a line like that very cheesy, but it wasn’t out of place coming from this gorgeous Tennessean.  The guy had returned to working on his bike and Marco could see it hadn’t been a really bad pick-up line.  The tall guy had just been speaking honestly.  This realization made the compliment so genuine – so authentic. 

 

“You want some help with that chain, man?”

 

“No thanks, I’ve got it, but having lunch with you would be nice.”

 

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.  I’m Marco.”

 

“I’m Sam.  Don’t squeeze my hand too hard.  A firm grip turns me on.”

 

Marco had held out his hand for a shake and he immediately knew that Sam’s request was, in fact, an invitation for the well-built man to squeeze Sam’s hand as hard as he wanted . . . so he did.  Sam winced and let out a soft moan at the same time.  His tall lanky body shivered a little.  This thrilled Marco, so he held the tight grip even longer than was normally acceptable.  In turn, Sam got a little wobbly in the knees and light-headed.  Sam also took a moment to glance at the vein snaking down Marco’s left biceps, a particular fetish of the Tennessean.  It enhanced the overall effect of the handshake even more.  Marco gripped even tighter right before he let go.

 

“A handshake like that will get me to do almost anything.”

 

“Right now, I’m hoping it will just get you to the lunch table.”

 

“It will.  Let me guess, you’re a vegan.”

 

“It’s funny how some people assume that just because I have a six-pack I don’t like hamburgers.”

 

“Well, to be fair, bodies like yours are not easily created if all you ate were hamburgers.”

 

“True.  Let’s just say I work out enough to make it possible for me to eat whatever I like.  And you . . . a tall, trim biker could be a vegan, too.”

 

“That’s true, as well.  Tennesseans don’t tend to be vegan, though.  I do like my salads, but I like meat, as well.”

 

“And how do you like your meat, Sam?”

 

“Packed hard and bulging.”

 

It was unclear who had started this particular vein of banter.  Both men had easily skipped down the flirtatious raunchy path – intending to show the other man that they weren’t these uptight straight-laced guys you often met.  This time, the staring between them was more intense . . . more direct.  It was as if an unspoken barrier had been passed.  It was clear that this day would not end with just the meal.  This knowledge eased unseen tension, dissolved doubt, and opened up a whole new avenue of interaction.  The spark was now a raging flame.

 

“Your eyes are bluer than the sky, Mr. Tennessee.”

 

“And your pecs look firmer than concrete, Mr. California.”

 

Marco knew this was an indication that he should somehow show off his chest, so he obligingly rolled the protruding mounds of beef up and down a few times, enjoying the pleasure his show gave the tall lanky dude in front of him.  The thought of skipping lunch and going straight for sex entered the mind of both men at almost the exact same moment.  There was so much ‘connection’ in the air and morning exercise had energized both men to a point of needing much release.  However, the nudging thought that there was something much more than just a primal tug between them, made each man long for more and they both refused to give into immediate gratification.  They knew good things come to those who wait.

 

“I’m thinking I might need some stamina this afternoon, Sam, so how about a hamburger at Shakes and Burgers up the bike path a little.”

 

“I like that place.  It sounds perfect.”

 

They started walking in the direction of the restaurant.  Sam was pushing his bike and Marco walked on the other side.  Marco reached around to his back pocket and pulled out the tank top that dangled there.  He started to put it on, but Sam cleared his throat loudly and shook his head no when the chiseled bodybuilder looked in his direction.  Marco smiled and returned the shirt to his pocket.  The built man breathed in deeply, to make his pecs swell even more and rolled his shoulders back to emphasize his chest.  Sam got a good long glance in and then turned to look ahead on the bike path.

 

“You would definitely be a hit a dinner parties.”

 

“You should take me to one, sometime.”

 

“Well, as a matter of fact, I have a get together tonight at the home of one of my best friends and I know he’d be overjoyed if I called and told him I was bringing someone.  Adding another plate to a dinner party for thirty is a lot less troublesome than one for, let’s say, six or eight.  It’s a fundraiser . . . a very formal affair.  I’m sure you’ll look great in your tux.”

 

“That’s pretty presumptuous on two counts, Sam.  First, that I’m available to go with you and second, that I own a tux.”

 

“The shoes, the shorts, and the watch immediately tell me you have an impeccable wardrobe at home.  A man as neatly groomed and obviously cultured as you would probably have a couple of tuxedos.  You are not new to classy affairs.  As for the first . . . I’m merely hoping like a kid before Christmas that you’re available.  I’m pretty sure I’m not going to want this day to end . . . maybe for a really long time.”

 

“You really might be a spy.”

 

“The pleasure is in the details, Marco.  The pleasure is in the details.  And what do you say, my handsome beefy friend.”

 

“You’ve clearly also picked up that I’m a sucker for flattery, haven’t you?”

 

“With a body like that, sir, you’d be crazy not to like it.”

 

“I’d be honored to accompany you, Sam.  It sounds like an awesome first date.”

 

“Um, second date.  We’re going to lunch.”

 

“Okayyyy, second date, if you insist.”

 

“I do.  I don’t sleep with anyone on the first date, Marco.”

 

“Oh, well then, tonight will definitely be our second date, then.  A man of principles.  I like that.”

 

“You like principles, I like muscles.  It seems like a match made in heaven.”

 

“It certainly does.  And here we are.  I’m famished . . . and horny.”

 

“I’m pretty sure this particular establishment will only help you with your first need, Marco.”

 

“You never know, Sam.  I’m friends with the owner and he’s a powerlifter.  I might just be his type.”

 

“I think you’re everyone’s type, Marco.”

[arpeejay]

[Mdlftr]

londonboy -- your dialog!  Awesome! Funny, enticing, witty...subtle!

Thank you!

[londonboy]

16 minutes ago, Mdlftr said:

londonboy -- your dialog!  Awesome! Funny, enticing, witty...subtle!

Thank you!

Thank you.

[Jtchef2]

I love how imaginative your brain is @londonboy