FWF Firecracker - Getting Lucky

Getting Lucky

Copyright Kimberly Gardner, 2008

If it wasn’t for that goofy, pink dinosaur, They would never have met.
“Uncle Chris, look!” His niece’s little girl voice rang through the summer evening as she seized Chris’s hand in a death grip.
He was dragged out of the flow of pedestrians and toward one of the brightly painted booths that lined this stretch of boardwalk. This particular booth nestled between Franco’s Pizzeria and The Day Late dollar store. It looked no different from a dozen other games where wheels spun, balls were tossed and money was spent by the fistful in an attempt to win some cheapo stuffed animal or mirror bearing the name of some soon to be defunct rock band.
Chris inhaled the spicy aromas of pepperoni and sausage emanating from Franco’s. His stomach growled.
He pulled the little blonde to a stop before they reached the booth. “Bailee, let’s go get pizza first.”
“I don’t want pizza. I want to play a game.” Bailee towed him toward the game with more force than any six-year-old should have been able to manage.
An orange and yellow sign read: Duck Races! And showed a cartoon duck riding a stream of water and grinning madly as he shot toward what looked, at least to Chris, like a gaping mouth.
The prizes, if you could call them that, were lined up along shelves, a conglomeration of crap you could buy at any junk store for five bucks or less. And the game itself, in which you used a water pistol to shoot little floating plastic ducks into even littler holes looked close to impossible, especially if you actually hoped to win one of the chintzy prizes.
Chris stopped before they reached the booth. “You don’t really want any of that cra– stuff, do you?”
Wide brown eyes blinked up at him. “You said you’d win me a prize.”
“And I will. But–”
“And you said I could pick whatever I wanted.”
Chris sighed. “Yeah, I did.”
“Win me that.”
He followed her pointing finger. On the higher shelves the prizes got better until on the very top shelf sat an array of plush animals. Probably the same animals would sit there all summer since no one would stay long enough or spend enough money to actually win one. Bailee pointed at a pink dinosaur, the shade so glaringly bright Chris barely resisted shielding his eyes. A pair of rhinestone-studded sunglasses perched atop the dinosaur’s fuzzy, pink head, and this was the kicker, the animal had eyelashes that had to be at least three inches long.
“That’s Lizbeth,” his niece announced. “She wants to come home with me.”
“Step right up and give it a try. Winner every time.”
Chris wondered briefly how much it would cost to just buy the dinosaur outright. Probably less than he’d spend trying to win it.
“That little girl looks like she needs a prize. What do you say, man?”
Chris turned his attention from the pink dinosaur to the huckster running the game. And froze.

Oh my freakin’ God.
Behind the counter stood an angel in shorts that were more holes than denim. A faded Metallica t-shirt hugged a slender torso. And a pair of small, wire-framed glasses perched on a slightly up-turned nose lightly dusted with freckles. Big blue eyes pinned Chris to the spot like a bug on a cork board. Then the angel smiled.
“Winner every time,” he repeated. “What do you say, gorgeous? Want to play?”
Bailee giggled. “He called you gorgeous.”
Heat flooded Chris’s cheeks even as something tightened low in his belly. “I think he was talking to you, Bail,” Chris lied. He tugged on her hand. “C’mon, let’s go see if we can get lucky.”
Chris plunked down a twenty and was given a blue water pistol.
“You want to play too, sweetie?” Without waiting for an answer, the hottie behind the counter handed Bailee a yellow water pistol. “See if you can beat your daddy at this game?”
“He’s not my daddy,” Bailee informed him. “He’s my uncle Chris.”
Hottie’s eyes flicked to Chris, speculation clear in their blue depths. “Is he now?” A pink tongue slipped out to wet full lips. “I’m Tim, Uncle Chris.”
Chris swallowed and licked his own lips. “Nice to meet you, Tim.” He let his gaze drift down Tim’s leanly muscled body. “Anybody ever get lucky at this game?”
Tim’s cheeks colored. It was adorable. “I have a feeling someone is just about to.”
***
“That boy likes you,” Bailee announced as they walked along Magnolia Avenue in the direction of the rented condo. Under one arm she clutched Lizbeth, the dinosaur’s tail dragging along the ground behind her. In the other hand, she held an enormous cone of cotton candy.
“How do you know?” Was it possible for a six-year-old to already have functioning gaydar? He had no clue.
She took a bite of her cotton candy and sent him a shrewd look. “Because he kept smiling and making lovey-dovey eyes.” Chris started to ask what ‘lovey-dovey eyes’ were and how the hell did she know anyway, but Bailee wasn’t done. “Then when you couldn’t get that purple duck through the hole he knocked it in for you.” She hugged her dinosaur. “He was so nice.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Chris laughed. He was feeling good. Not only had he won Lizbeth for his niece, and done it with only a little help from Tim, but he’d managed to get a date too. Later, once he returned Bailee to her parents, he would go back to the booth for Tim and see if the night had just a little more luck left in it.
***
Tim was already waiting for him outside the game booth. Chris saw him as he made his way through the crowd toward the designated meeting spot.
Chris let out a low whistle and slowed his pace, taking a few moments just to enjoy the view.
Tim leaned against the railing, his back to Chris. He wore the same ragged shorts and t-shirt from earlier, but his hair, which had been tied back in a stubby tail, now hung loose. It flowed in rich chestnut waves just past his shoulders and made Chris’s fingers itched to touch. He imagined plunging his fingers into all that hair as he ravaged that oh-so-kissable mouth.
Chris’s cock twitched and began to fill. Down boy. There would be plenty of time for that later, of that he was just about certain.
As if sensing Chris’s gaze, Tim turned and their eyes met. He was eating an ice-cream cone, a double-dip of some pale color, possibly vanilla. As Chris watched, Tim’s tongue slipped out and took a long, slow lick of the dripping ice-cream, his eyes never leaving Chris’s face.
In two heartbeats Chris was fully hard. Thank FSM he’d worn a pair of his baggiest shorts, anticipating that he might need just this kind of coverage.
“Hey,” Tim said, “you’re early. I haven’t finished my dinner yet.”
“You’re having ice-cream for dinner?” Chris leaned against the railing. His leg brushed Tim’s.
The other man nodded and held out the cone. “Want some?”
“Sure.” Chris leaned in and licked a drip of ice-cream from the corner of Tim’s mouth. The almost-too-sweet butter-scotch mingled with the slightly salty taste of Tim’s skin. Heat flared in those pretty blue eyes. “Mmm, butter-scotch. My favorite.”
“have some more.” Tim’s free hand slid to the back of Chris’s neck and he pulled him in for a kiss.
Their lips fused and Tim’s tongue pushed into Chris’s mouth. The kiss was cold and tasted of butter-scotch and promises.
Oh yeah, he was so getting lucky tonight.
***
“This is nice.” Chris sipped his beer then set the bottle down.
They were sitting on the roof of the garage apartment Tim was renting with a group of guys who all worked the boardwalk games. “I bet you can see the fireworks really good from here.”
Tim nodded and took a swig of his own beer. “You can. But do you really want to watch a bunch of lame-ass fireworks?” He rested his hand on Chris’s thigh just below the hem of his shorts. Slowly, he slid his fingertips under the material. “Or maybe we could do something else. If you want.”
Chris spread his legs, giving Tim better access as his hand slipped farther up the leg of Chris’s shorts. “Something else is good too.”
“You think?” Tim moved closer, angling his body and leaning in until his lips brushed Chris’s ear just as his fingers closed around Chris’s erection. Teeth nipped his earlobe and fingers squeezed his cock. “The whole time you were playing, I kept picturing you on your back with my cock up your ass.”
Chris gasped as Tim’s thumb swiped over the head of his prick. He slid his arms around Tim’s waist and pulled him close. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tim pressed him backward onto the blanket they’d spread on the roof. “That okay with you?”
“Yeah,” Chris breathed. He had expected a guy who looked like Tim to be a bottom, not that it mattered. Chris would take this little hottie any way he could get him. But finding this new, dominant side of his little beauty was definitely a plus.
Just as the first boom sounded in the distance, Tim rolled on top of him and captured Chris’s lips in another of those soul-searing, mind-blowing kisses. Slowly his tongue fucked Chris’s mouth, picking up the rhythm of his hips as he thrust against Chris’s belly.
Behind Tim’s head, the night sky lit with red and gold sparkles. Their cocks slid together, so hot, so good, even through their clothes.
“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Tim murmured against Chris’s lips. “I can’t wait to get my cock up your ass.”
Boom! Purple, blue and silver stars filled the sky. Chris moaned. His hips jerked, his cock thrusting into the hollow beside Tim’s hipbone. He couldn’t wait either, he really, really couldn’t.

Written by Kimberly Gardner

As early as the seventh grade, Kimberly remembers slashing her favorite rockstars and reading romance. So it’s not surprising that her two passions, romance and putting pretty boys with other pretty boys, should come together in her writing. Moliere said, “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then for money.” Kimberly is delighted to finally be doing it for money.
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