The beer is sparkly emerald green. Sparkly green beer makes Chuck think of lime soda and he has a feeling that he’s probably drunk too much of it. In fact he must have done because it looks as if John Casey is on stage, doing guest vocals for the Irish folk band and singing Flogging Molly covers at the top of his voice.
“That guy looks like Casey,” Chuck says to Sarah who has green streaks in her hair in honour of St Patrick.
“How much beer have you two been drinking?” asks the CIA girl, who’s just finished her shift at Weinerlicious and has come along to join them.
“Is my tongue green?” Chuck asks, sticking his organ out at Sarah and wiggling it about.
“I guess that answers my question.” Sarah shakes her head and orders a fresh pitcher. “Too late to save them,” she mutters, but there’s a small smile on her face as she watches the live band.
“That guy looks like Casey,” says Chuck looking at the big man on stage who is wearing familiar cargo pants, but has a ‘Have a Happy Patty’s Day at McKinley’s’ tee over the top of his Buy More polo shirt and the layered look makes him seem kinda different. Sexy. Sexy? The Casey look-alike has a lucky leprechaun baseball cap on backwards.
This is not, and never will be, sexy.
But the bodhran drums are making this repetitive thudding and it’s having an effect on Chuck’s brain. Fap fap fap. Chuck can’t take his eyes off the singer who reminds him of what like Casey would look like if he ever got drunk off his ass and had real fun. Fap fap fap. He can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to lick the sweat off the man’s forehead and silence that gruff out-of-key voice that’s shouting out vocals about the seven drunken pirates. Fap fap fap. Now he’s imagining many different ways to shut him up. Fapping hell!
“Where’s Casey?” he asks, sinking another glass of beer. “I… need to tell him about his double.”
Said double is now jumping up and down in true punk spirit as he sings about sailing to South Australia. It’s loud, crude and rampant and that beat keeps thrumming through Chuck, making him light-headed and excitable. Fap fap fap. Oh God! Fap fap fap. Fap fap fap.
“You’re gonna have one killer hangover tomorrow,” smiles Sarah, “but he is really going to suffer.”
Chuck beams back at her as she holds up her iPhone and points it at the stage.
Three songs later the set is over and Casey leaves the platform, stumbling towards them with a happy-as-fuck grin on his face.
“What did you think?” he asks and the words meld together in one long slur. Filling up his glass he knocks back the beer in a series of noisy swallows. “Was I awesome?”
All Chuck can think of is that relentless beat in his head and when Casey leans in and slings an arm around his shoulders it isn’t helping.
“That’s it.” Sarah gets up from the bench seat. “When John Casey starts getting affectionate it means it’s time to get him to bed.”
Funnily enough Chuck’s thinking the exact same thing. The feel of that arm draped heavily over him speeds his heart beat up until it’s fapfapfapfapfapfapfapping away inside his chest. Breathing in deeply, he smells fresh sweat and lemony aftershave and this feral killer scent that sends his pheromone receptors wild. When Casey moves away Chuck has mixed feelings about it; he was beginning to feel very happy in the pants area and public boners are embarrassing when you’re over twenty-five.
The big guy gets up on wobbly legs, having to grab hold of the wall for support. “Come on, Chuckie. Mom says it’s time to go home.”
To bed, adds Chuck silently as he’s dragged onto feet which appear to have gone walkabout without him.
The two men lurch out of the bar and they're scuttling crab-like towards the NSA car when Sarah snatches Casey’s keys off him. “No you don’t, Johnny,” she says with a grin then she reaches for her phone and calls them a cab.
After a few dozen choruses of Danny Boy, with some improvised crude lyrics thrown in for fun, the taxi turns up.
“Bye, guys,” laughs Sarah as Casey collapses onto the backseat with Chuck sliding in after him and when Chuck looks around to wave, he’s certain the girl’s holding her phone up and shooting more evidence to use as blackmail against them.
“She’s a bitch, but she’s pretty,” slurs Casey who’s also noticed the camera.
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Chuck stares at Casey, amazed to hear him say something nice-ish about anyone.
“Mostly the bitch part,” the big man growls, sounding more like the old Casey and for some reason that brings about some extra happy in the crotch of Chuck’s black pants. Fap fap fap, is all he can hear... all he can think about.
“I…I…didn’t know you were Irish. Casey doesn’t sound like an Irish name,” he stammers, leaning in closer to the NSA man in hope that it’ll distract him from looking down at a prominent bulge which totally refuses to go away.
“It’s a classic Irish name, moron.” Casey does one of those lip-curling sneers and with eyes that light up in the flash of passing headlights, he claps his hand over Chuck’s thigh and runs it upwards in one firm, delicious stroke. Fap fap fap.
The moment that palm covers his erection, Chuck loses all former inhibitions. Reaching sideways he explores Casey’s crotch, kneading the semi-erect bulge which swells to his touch. Casey is looking blankly out of the window, but he’s breathing fast and his fingers are teasing down the zipper of Chuck’s pants.
Chuck matches him move for move and a second after Casey has his palm wrapped around Chuck’s dick, he does the same, gripping that thick cock in his fist and working a dry hand up and down the shaft as smoothly as he can manage with all this clothing in the way.
The cab driver must have noticed by now. The car is full of the smell of sex and the silence is punctuated by occasional gasps of pleasure as they fuck each others' fists and gaze innocently out at the night. Oh hell, Chuck wants to come now. This is so fucking dirty-bad-good.
As soon as they arrive back at the apartment complex Casey zips up and hands the driver a fifty with a curt, “Keep the change.”
Sobered up by the idea of potential orgasms, Chuck untucks his shirt and follows Casey out of the car, keeping his flies open and his hard cock slightly exposed. Almost demolishing the door in the process of getting inside, they stumble towards Chuck’s bedroom. Both of them half-undressed by the time they get there, Casey pushes Chuck up against the wall and mouth fucks him, slow at first then hotter and deeper until Chuck tilts his head in order to bestialise the kiss, wrapping one hand around Casey’s neck and the other around his erection.
Casey helps out, pushing down pants and shorts until they’re naked where it counts, pressed close together, and there’s this fap fap fap sound happening in harmony as they work each other off.
The mutual wank up against the wall leads to frottage on the floor and the natural to this progression is bed. Ridding them both of their clothes Casey kneels over Chuck, licking, sucking, biting at every part of lower belly that isn’t cock, until Chuck is making these unfamiliar whining noises in his throat.
His eyes focus on a thick, fleshy column which hangs enticingly, inches away from his mouth and, lunging up, he manages to get a taste of it before Casey arches his back and removes temptation.
“I want,” Chuck breathes, canting his hips and trying to force-feed his cock between Casey’s teasing lips.
Casey tut-tuts and Chuck can feel a smile brighten the big guy’s face. Spitting into his palms he reaches for both cocks and the slapping, fapping sound of masturbation makes him stiffen and cry out for more. When Casey’s mouth encases his prick in vacuum heat he has to grip a sudden tight hold of the root in order to stop himself from ejaculating.
“I wanna suck you too,” he hisses and it’s an erotic relief when Casey lowers his hips until he’s close enough for Chuck to take that swollen knob into his mouth.
The blow is an epic ride of slow, quick, hard, deep, long, hungry greed and when they roll onto their sides and Casey begins to teases a wet fingertip around the entrance to his body, Chuck spreads wider to allow him easy access. In fact he’s even brave enough to reciprocate the move.
Casey comes the moment Chuck’s finger pushes inside him and Chuck follows this up by climaxing from the taste of Casey’s spunk.
Sparkly emerald beer must be magic, thinks Chuck after he gets cleaned up and falls into bed next to a shower-damp body. He’s not certain what’s going to happen tomorrow, but he doesn’t care that much because this is the best St Patrick’s Day he’s ever had.
DONE