Not Just a Game

Ricky shifted uncomfortably. He was having second thoughts about his decision to let Jean do this. Jean looked too confident, too superior. It was making Ricky nervous.
    The Frenchman was circling, planning his movements like a six foot three vulture deciding how best to attack its prey. Ricky Bobby blushed slightly when he admitted to himself how confidently sexy the smug grin which had spread across Jean’s wide mouth looked. “So, are you just gonna watch me or are you gonna do something?” Ricky shouted. He hadn’t meant to sound as irate as he had, but his precarious emotional state was making him testy.
    Jean’s grin only widened, aware how his actions were affecting Ricky Bobby. “Hold on, my frightened baby chipmunk. Allow me my foreplay; we’ll get there soon enough.” After sufficiently sighting his prize he stopped his circling and leaned foward to give Ricky Bobby what he wanted.
    He never broke Ricky’s gaze. He apparently was skilled enough at what he was doing that he didn’t need to watch what the lower extremities of his body were doing in order to do it correctly. He ran his right hand up and down the full length of his ‘weapon’ as Ricky Bobby watched, mesmerized by Jean’s hands.
    With a quick thrust forward Jean filled the hole and the spell Jean had cast on Ricky was broken. Ricky cried out. Jean looked up with mild concern, but Ricky’s cry hadn’t been out of pain. “I thought you said you hadn’t done this before…” he grunted through gritted teeth.
Jean gave him a ‘what are you kidding me?’ look. “I just said that so you’d agree.” He shifted his hips, repositioning himself before he thrust forward again, harder this time. Ricky closed his eyes. He knew it was almost over.
    “Eight ball, corner pocket.”
Ricky peeked open one eye just in time to see the plump black ball plop down into the hole in the left corner. “You know, if you had told me you were good at pool, I would have definitely won, but you know… I was going easy on you…cause I didn’t want you to feel too bad.”
    Jean slowly stood up, “I’m sure.”
    Ricky Bobby hated how much he loved Jean’s overconfident smirk. He hated that he didn’t really mind that he had lost. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ He noticed Jean staring at him. “What?”
    “You lost.”
    Ricky’s heart stopped. “So?”
    “You know what that means.”
    “No, but you lied so…”
    Jean was closing the distance between them with every stride of his long thin legs. Before Ricky could make any further protest, Jean had the man in his arms and had covered his mouth with his own. They stayed that way for a long time. When they finally broke apart Ricky’s face was a surprised shade of crimson. Jean grinned “Play again?”
    Ricky nodded managing to slowly catch his breath, “Same stakes.”