Lucky Strike (working title)
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Summary
One night every few weeks is the agreement; John Marston looks forward to those nights when he and Abigail open up their relationship and go home with separate folks. No commitment, no callbacks - just sex, straight up. This time, though, his luck runs sour in a shallow pool of prospects and John can't help but feel damned frustrated at striking out, and damned distracted by the sandy-haired bouncer that keeps the peace in this redneck, hole-in-the-wall bar that Abigail's dragged him to.
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The hour between deal and deed crept past slower that it had rights to. Each minute whispered doubt, mockery, and disbelief that there were any tryst pending. John wanted to blame the alcohol for it, but he'd tapped out too long ago for it to be the presence hovering over his shoulder, playing the skeptic.
No, this weird flux in his gut came by the steadily settling and surreal understanding that he'd gone from struck out to striking gold like a lucky bastard. Maybe it ain't with one he would've chosen on his own, being at the bar for employment over enjoyment. But the man'd been pulled from some unknown well of handsome, muscled bastards that John ain't realized he'd a thirst to drink from, but now felt parched without.
Series
- Part 1 of Lucky Strike (working title)