It’s 1965, and in Bob Dylan’s London hotel room there are about 10 different conversations happening, creating a constant buzzing static in his ears.
He’s being spoken to, not that he’s paying the voice (voices?) much attention. His thin legs are crossed under the long table, the above foot tapping rapidly. The anxious, fidgeting motion causes his upper body to sway rhythmically, earning questioning looks from the 2 females across him.
He pays them, nor anyone for that matter, any mind.
He’s too concerned with the days earlier events, the booing that seemed to grow more and more with each show. Bob’s closed-minded ‘fans’ weren’t remotely interested in his happiness, only their own. If he didn’t present himself as the image they’d decided and believe that he is, should be -then they cursed him, pinned him a ‘fake neurotic’.
Attach a cord to your guitar and you’re a traitor.
Bob doesn’t sympathize with them, just pities them. He’s going to continue to doing whatever the fuck he pleases. Yet, it’s that exact thought that’s put him at the state he’s in now. Staring down at his 3rd glass of red wine, chewing his bottom lip and wondering vaguely why they had to be so blind. Sure, he could care less if they understood or if they didn’t, he’d just silently been hoping that they would.
His let down is his own fault really. He knew he’d been expecting too much of them.
The cherry of the cigarette between his fingers is cutting it close, he’d noticed with a flick of his blue eyes, so he’d quickly put it out on the table’s overflowing ashtray. He’s immediately offered a new one by his friend Bob Neuwirth, but he mumbles a quiet “Nah, man.” and reaches for his wine glass instead.
“Johnny Cash is here.”
He hasn’t been tuned in to any voices around him, but for some reason that announcement is the one thing his mind acknowledges.
His eyes dart around, trying to find the person who’d spoken. Bob Neuwirth had luckily been paying more attention than Bob and asks the English gentlemen of Johnny’s whereabouts.
“I saw him checking in when I entered the lobby, he was with a brunette gal.”
Bob licks the traces of wine from his lips, all previous worries of life momentarily vanished. “I’ll bet it was June Carter, man. Damn, I hope I can sit with Johnny a minute at least.”
Neuwirth gives a short laugh. “Man, he’s probably sleeping by now.” He looks down at his watch, “It’s nearly midnight, Bob.”
Bob shakes his head after swallowing another gulp of wine. “You don’t know the guy, he doesn’t sleep.”
Every person at the table now have their eyes trained on Bob as he continues, “The night I first met him he was up later than me, and I’d stayed up until at least 3am. Not sure he ever even went to sleep.”
He’s already begun looking around for his manager, knowing that if anyone can get him access to Johnny, it would be Albert Grossman.
Neuwirth hums with a lack of interest and gives a quick shrug. “Maybe he’s still awake then.” He offers, watching as Bob stands from his chair after spotting his manager across the room with his wife and a couple others.
Albert takes notice of Bob approaching and already sees that his client needs him for something, and quick. “What is it, Bob?”
“Is Johnny Cash staying here at the hotel?” Bob speaks to his manager quietly, eyes narrowed as he looked around the hotel room. As if Johnny is possibly around there somewhere amongst the dozens of faces.
Albert regards his client a moment, remembering the several other times that Bob had gotten together with the famous country singer. From what Albert had gathered from the road manager Fred, and some of Bob’s friends; it’s suspect that he and Johnny are/were having an affair.
Albert had once asked Bob about it but the 24-year-old had looked at him, bewildered, before scoffing and walking away. Albert made a note to pay more attention the next time the two came in contact again.
“If he is then I wasn’t informed of it.” Albert continues to watch Bob, waiting for him to explain exactly what it is that he wants him to do.
Bob hums and looks around the spacious, crowded room with consideration before his eyes finally refocus on his manager. “I’d like to see him if you can make that possible. I know he’d prefer it if we shooed everyone out first.”
First clue for Albert; the apparent need for them to be alone.
“I’ll see what I can do. Should we ask everyone to leave now?”
Bob nods without another word and goes over to speak to Neuwirth, “Albert’s going to try and contact Johnny’s people.” He takes Neuwirth’s arm and pulls him aside while Albert announces to everyone that the party is over for tonight.
Neuwirth looks from the gradually retreating crowd and back to Bob again, “Um, should I go too?” He asks in a hushed voice and Bob’s eyes narrow on his friend, curious why he looks almost eager to leave.
“You don’t have to, why? I don’t think he’d mind a few people, I just figured he’d appreciate a quieter space this late at night.”
Neuwirth raises an eyebrow, smirking knowingly at his famous friend. “Uh huh,” He teases, jabbing Bob playfully in the side. Bob bats his friends hand away, eyeing him still, wondering what exactly he’s getting at here. “I’ll just hang around for a bit and then turn in to my own room.” He adds.
Bob wishes certain people who approach him a good night, explaining that he’s just tired and needs to turn in early. Everyone seems to understand and leaves without making a fuss about it.
Albert is sat by the hotel room’s phone, already making a phone call to try and fulfill Bob’s request.
“Johnny is married, isn’t he?” Neuwirth asks Bob who nods while walking over to grab his forgotten wine glass that still sat on the table, along with several other abandoned drinks from his now absent party guests.
“As far as I know yes, but last I talked to him he said it wasn’t working out so good for them.” He answers before tipping his head back to finish off his glass of wine.
“Married, nonetheless.” Neuwirth pushes the topic, tilting his head down to meet Bob’s suspicious eyes over his sunglasses.
Irritated, Bob looks away and reaches for his pack of cigarettes before lighting one up, “What are you getting at?” He takes a drag from his fag, blue eyes lowered into slits as he faces his friend.
Neuwirth shrugs and lights up his own cig, “Just wondering is all.”
“Right.” Bob turns from the other to approach Albert who sits across the room, still on the telephone.
Bob leans against the wall beside where Albert sits, waiting patiently for a verdict.
“He’s right here if you want to talk to him yourself.” Albert speaks into the phone, eyes turning up to Bob’s blue ones that seem to light up at his words.
“That’s him on the phone?” He can’t help expressing his excitement in the pitch of his voice and Albert nods, standing from the chair and holding out the phone for Bob to take.
Bob forgets about everyone and everything else around him as he sits down and brings the phone to his ear, “Hey, Johnny. How are you doin’?” He continues to smoke his cigarette with his free hand.
Johnny’s voice, smooth as Tennessee whiskey enters Bob’s ears and the folk singer can’t help grinning like an idiot.
At the other end of the room, Neuwirth notices Albert approaching him and straightens up to face the other as he steps in close, “You’re hanging by for a while?”
Neuwirth shrugs a shoulder, unsure as he exhales his smoke, “He told me I could, but honestly it won’t be for long. I’ll probably just say hey.”
Albert nods, looking back at Bob for a second, “I’ve been thinking about what you told me before, about Johnny and him.”
Then Neuwirth suddenly gets it, Albert’s reason for approaching him. “I could be wrong,” He begins thoughtfully, “but I swear I accidentally interrupted a kiss the last time they were visiting with each other.” He looks down at the ground as he tries to recall the situation the best he can, as it was nearly a year ago, “He had pushed Johnny back from him and looked away to the wall like he’d been caught in something.” Neuwirth continues, “I didn’t think much of it at first, but it didn’t take long for me to realize what had been going on.”
Albert curses under his breath, “You’re sure that’s what you saw?”
Neuwirth bites his lip before giving a certain nod, “Yeah, they were standing too close for it to be anything else. Also, the way Bob had reacted...kind of confirmed my suspicions.”
Albert sighs heavily and rubs a hand over his face in exasperation, “What should we do?”
Neuwirth snorts in amusement, “What can we do? Nothing. I think they’re keeping it well enough under-wraps. If only we know then I don’t think we have much to worry about.”
Albert hums as he considers the situation, “You don’t think we should tell him to be careful?”
The younger man just shrugs, looking over to see Bob hanging up the phone with a tiny smile at his lips. Neuwirth decides they should let Bob make his own decisions, and possible mistakes.
“Another time, maybe tomorrow.” Neuwirth gives Albert a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “I think everything will be fine. This, after all, isn’t his first affair.” He steps around Albert to head in Bob’s direction.
The singer is finishing up his cigarette and walking back toward the table with a new air about him. It’s as if the unclogging of bodies from the room relieved him of his anxiety and he no longer had to sit still for anyone.
He turns to Neuwirth, before glancing behind him toward Albert who’s now conversing with his wife at the other end of the room.
“I told him the room number, he should be here soon.” Bob says to his friend.
Neuwirth just nods, hesitating on how he should approach Bob with this, “Is June coming with him?”
“I guess she’s sleeping already. She’s not his wife you know.”
“I know, but she probably will be someday, huh?”
Bob breaks the gaze from his friend at that question, bringing his cigarette to his lips. After slowly exhaling the smoke, he stares across the room without really taking anything in. His mind is far off somewhere else. “I don’t know, maybe.”
There’s suddenly a knock at the door and no one is left wondering who it is. Bob’s eyes shoot to the door and he curses under his breath, turning to the mirror on the closest wall. He looks over his appearance briefly before moving for the door.
Johnny’s presence is still as powerful as always and Bob finds himself wanting to reach forward and hug the tall man but he resists. They just smile at each other as Bob steps aside to let Johnny in.
“Hey Bobby, how ya been?” He takes notice of the few others in the room and waves to them all politely, “Hey everyone, good to see you all again.”
Albert wants to greet him more politely, but for some reason feels the need to keep his distance. Apparently Neuwirth is thinking the same thing, nodding to Johnny with a smile but staying right where he is. Almost like they want to observe the other two from a distance.
“Do you want some wine, Johnny?” Bob offers while leading Johnny toward the table that’s in desperate need of being cleared off.
“Sure, I’ll have a little, anyone else?”
Albert has taken his wife’s hand as they’re about ready to turn in for the night, “No, we’re going to head to bed, but you guys enjoy your night, okay? Make sure you get enough sleep, Bob. You too Neuwirth.”
The younger men both nod, wishing Albert and his wife a goodnight.
Bob and Johnny have by this point sat down at the table, as Neuwirth picked up Bob’s acoustic guitar and began to strum it idly, cigarette between his lips.
“It’s cheap but it gets the job done.” Bob says with a nervous laugh as he pours Johnny and himself each a glass of the red liquid.
“That’s quite alright, Bobby, thank you.” He takes a drink and shrugs, having no complaints over the flavor. “How’s the tour going?”
Bob sighs wistfully at this question, resting his chin in his palm and meeting Johnny’s dark eyes, “Well, Johnny, since I’ve gone electric quite a few things have changed, and not just the music’s sound.”
Johnny already knows exactly what his friend is talking about, “I’ve heard about that. Don’t let it get you down. Some will come around eventually and others won’t. It’s their loss really.”
Bob nods his head fervently, tapping his fingers on the table. “I know that, Johnny, it’s just a bit upsetting.”
“I know it is.” Johnny watches his friend worriedly, wanting to reach over and still Bob’s anxious fidgeting. If it keeps on then he will. He goes silent, an invitation for Bob to continue if he wants to.
‘’I’ve missed you.” Bob suddenly whispers, bright blue eyes never leaving Johnny’s warm ones.
Johnny’s heartbeat quickens at the 3 simple words and he has to look away from Bob’s intense gaze for a minute to gather his thoughts.
When he’d found out from his manager that Bob Dylan was staying there, his stomach had filled with butterflies as memories of their last encounter flooded his mind.
He gulps down his nerves and flicks his dark eyes back up to Bob’s, “I uh, gosh, Bobby…” He’s highly aware of Bob’s friend being there in the room, so he keeps his voice low, “I think about you a lot.” He runs a nervous hand through his hair and that’s when Bob offers him one of his Marlboro’s.
Johnny takes it gratefully and lets Bob light it up for him.
They sit in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes, Neuwirth’s improvised guitar playing the only sound filling the room.
The first person to finally speak again is Johnny, “Are you seeing him?” Johnny makes sure only Bob can hear him, not that Neuwirth could hear much over his guitar playing anyway.
Bob’s eyebrows pull in at the random question. “Who?”
“Your friend here.” Johnny says without motioning toward the other man in the room.
Bob makes a face at this, “Neuwirth?” He whispers incredulously, seeing the relief in Johnny’s eyes almost immediately, “No way.” Bob waves off the notion and takes a drag from his cigarette. He can feel Johnny watching him as he looks over to his friend, adding lightly, “He’s all about the ladies.”
“You don’t wish he wasn’t?” Johnny asks quietly.
Bob scoffs. “He’s just a friend, Johnny.” He turns his attention back to the older man, wondering where all of this is coming from. “Why?”
Johnny shrugs and relaxes back into his chair, cigarette at his lips.
Bob doesn’t look away from the other, realization coming over him as he replays Johnny’s words over in his mind. “You’re the only man I’ve been with, Johnny.” His voice is hushed but sincere and he can see Johnny physically react to this, as the country singer begins jogging his leg up and down.
“Is that so?” Johnny asks mildly, playing it off like he couldn’t care less if Bob had been with other men.
He doesn’t have Bob fooled, not even for a second.
Bob Neuwirth stands from the chair he’d been sat in, setting Bob’s acoustic aside. He clears his throat awkwardly and both men look toward him like they’d completely forgotten he was there. “I’m gonna head to bed, Bob. Gotta be up early tomorrow.” He announces, coming over to squeeze Bob’s boney shoulders, “Make sure you get enough sleep, pal.”
Bob waves his friend off, “Sure yeah, sleep well.”
Neuwirth gives Johnny a simple acknowledging nod, which the country singer returns. “Nice seeing you again, Mr. Cash.”
Neither Bob or Johnny say anything for the longest, tense moment once they’re the only two people left in the hotel room.
This time it’s Bob who breaks the awkward silence. Having put out his cigarette, he takes the neck of his wine glass in his hand, “I’ve had men come on to me several of times. Especially these days…”
This gets Johnny’s attention and he finds himself looking over Bob with a possessive feeling in the pit of his gut. Of course everyone wants to fuck Bob. The young singer speaks of it like it’s some odd occurrence for someone to hit on him. Yeah right. Johnny’s seen it with his own eyes before, seen it at times when even Bob didn’t. Everyone wants a piece of Bob.
“I’ll bet.” Is all he can manage in that moment, despite the flurry of thoughts on his mind.
Bob’s eyes search Johnny’s averted ones, reading him easily. His eyes and body language speak for themselves. “Yet, I find myself uninterested in all of them.”
Johnny just nods at that, continuing to jog his foot up and down. He has no idea how to approach or discuss this with Bob. He can’t bring himself to admit that he hopes...this thing is something special kept only for him. Whatever that ‘thing’ is exactly. And anyway, even if Bob did want to share his body with another man, it’s not like Johnny should get upset. They’re not in a relationship or anything. Despite that, he can’t shake away the possessive response he feels when thinking about another man touching Bob. A woman? Sure, go ahead. But a man? Johnny doesn’t know why the thought bothers him so much...
“What’s wrong, Johnny? What’s on your mind?” Bob doesn’t really appreciate the lack of response from the older man but at the same time he does understand.
“Nothing, I just…” Johnny begins, unsure of what to say, worried he may say something to upset the other. “You leave me a very confused man, Bobby.” He tries to explain further when he sees a flash of doubt grace Bob’s sharp and boyish features. “I’m not attracted to any other men but you.” He lets out a sigh afterward, like it had taken him a lot of effort to get those words out.
Bob forces back a smile, not wanting to seem over-excited or childish. Besides, Johnny’s a married man, and even though a divorce is eminent, Neuwirth had a point when he’d said Johnny is probably going to marry June next.
“That’s certainly interesting, isn’t it?” Bob asks with a little smile at the corner of his lips, longing to reach over and take one of Johnny’s hands.
Johnny hums, lifting the wineglass to his lips just to give him something to busy himself with while he thought of a response, “Well I never found another man beautiful until I met you.”
Bob’s soft smile slips from his lips as Johnny’s words hit him right in his core, making him feel things he’s never felt. Bob gulps deeply and looks down to the table, “Never took you for a sweet-talker.”
Johnny actually laughs at this, more like at himself because yeah, that was an incredibly cheesy thing to say, wasn’t it? “Sorry, just saying what I feel.”
Bob smiles too, just because Johnny’s is so contagious, but he’s still got the country singers
words on repeat in his mind. “You really find me beautiful, Johnny?” He’s been told it before, countless times over the years, by both men and women. So why all the sudden is he getting bashful?
Both times that he and Johnny have messed around, Johnny had uttered something about Bob being pretty or even gorgeous. Bob always assumed it was Johnny simply being lost in the moment of pleasure. Had thought that maybe it wasn’t exactly him that was beautiful; maybe it was only the feelings Bob was giving Johnny with his body.
Maybe Bob had been wrong about that.
Johnny rubs an embarrassed hand across his face, groaning loudly as he confesses all his deepest feelings to his good friend, “I get nervous around you, Bob.” He admits, and feeling Bob’s sharp blue orbs eying him intently doesn’t help him any.
Bob wants to laugh at this new fact, but doesn’t want to make his friend feel bad, “The feeling is mutual then.” He’s positively endeared at this point in the conversation, wanting to hear more of Johnny’s thoughts.
“You don’t have to be nervous around me, Johnny.” He whispers, reaching a careful hand over to take the older mans.
Johnny’s nerves still almost instantly at the contact and he timidly meets Bob’s eyes as the younger intertwines their fingers together.
“I can’t help it.” Johnny answers after a moment, “You’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. Could only dream of being able to write like you do.” He adds the last part to which he earns a playful scoff from Bob.
“Alright that’s enough praise for one year.” Bob finds himself idly caressing Johnny’s palm with his thumb. He’s uncertain on where to go with their conversation now, but there’s no hurt in having a couple of moments of silence.
Johnny is lost in his thoughts as his eyes dart around Bob’s pale face, taking note of his small but plush lips and softly angled jawline. He remembers the first time he’d been kissed by those lips, last year in 1964 when they’d met for the first time at the Newpork Folk Festival
Neither of them had been planning for it to happen, it kind of just did. It was late into the night by then. The festival’s last day had gone well, the turnout seemed to grow larger every year.
Somehow, they’d ended up agreeing to go to Johnny’s hotel room to show each other songs they’d been working on, bringing some friends along too. Bob had made himself at home on top of Johnny’s hotel bed, remaining there even after the others had turned in for the night.
Bob had been puffing on a cigarette, head against the pillows as he gazed steadily at Johnny from across the room. Johnny was searching frantically through his suitcases, trying to find his notebook so he could show Bob the song he’d been working on.
“Just play it for me on your guitar, man.” Bob had called to him from across the room, but Johnny shook his head, intent on finding his notebook and nothing else until he located it.
Johnny cursed to himself when he just couldn’t seem to find it, “I would if I could remember all the words, Bobby. I may have forgotten it at the last hotel, or possibly the car.” He finally made his way to the bed, having given up on the notebook for the time being.
He’d taken a seat on the edge beside Bob’s legs and Bob had been a little confused on why Johnny had chosen to sit right by his legs. There was plenty of room on the other side of the queen-sized bed.
Without any thought as it had felt like the natural thing to do, Bob had lifted his hand to place on the back of Johnny’s larger one. “It’ll come back to you,” He was referring to the song, “Just give it some time.” He began sliding his hand from Johnny’s only to be surprised when the country singer grabbed it before he could pull it away.
They met eyes then, and once again Bob found himself moving forward, letting instinct guide him. He’d very chastely pressed his lips against Johnny’s before lying back against the pillows.
When Johnny only stared at him, no reaction present, Bob immediately regretted his actions.
“I’m sorry.” He’d shaken his head in embarrassment, moving to stand from the bed, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s completely fine, Bobby.” Johnny had stated calmly after shaking the frozen shock away, effectively stopping Bob in his tracks as he’d been heading for the door.
That’s how it had begun, and Johnny remembers in great detail how the rest of that night had gone...
“If you’re tired and want to head back to your room, Johnny, I’ll understand.” Bob lets Johnny’s hand go when he realizes he was getting too comfortable with holding it in his own. He busies himself by lighting up another cigarette.
Johnny hums, looking down at his now empty hand for a split second. “Bob, tell me what happened the night of the first day we met.”
Bob’s cheeks go red almost instantly and he clears his throat as moments from that night begin to flash through his mind. “You don’t, uh…You don’t remember?” He scratches the side of his nose in a nervous tick.
Johnny does remember. Remembers practically every second of it, in fact. He only wanted to know if Bob did too. If it had left an impact on him as much. “I remember it quite good, Bobby.”
Bob feels his neck getting hot and he takes a drag from his cigarette to calm his nerves, “Then why do you need me to tell you?” He releases the smoke from his nose, eyeing Johnny skeptically.
Johnny shrugs innocently, failing at hiding his smirk from the younger man, “Just to remind me that it was real and not a dream.” He doesn’t shy away from Bob’s intense gaze, knowing that Bob is stubborn when it comes to being told what to do. Johnny also knows that he himself is a reluctant exception to that. “Go on, tell me what we did.”
Bob stays silent for a long time, not breaking his eyes away from Johnny as he continues to smoke his cigarette. He’s thinking that maybe this is just a turn on for Johnny. It certainly gives Bob something to work with. Maybe he could do a little teasing, get Johnny all worked up and then pretend he’s too tired. See if Johnny gets a kick out of that.
“Hmm,” Bob looks up as he lets that night play over in his memory, “We did a few things, from what I can recall. Once you saw I was interested you just had your wicked way with me, didn’t you, Johnny?” Bob lets a wide grin spread over his face that he tries to hide with the hand that holds his cigarette.
Now it’s Johnny’s turn to blush, and he looks away from Bob down to the full ashtray that he’s considering getting up and dumping out. “Was it wicked, Bobby?” He wonders, “What about the second time?”
Bob bites into his thumbnail as he watches the other closely. “The second time was when my buddy, the one who just left.” He motions to the door, “Came in and saw us kissing, Johnny.” He reminds the other who just nods, having remembered that part as well. How could Johnny ever forget that?
“Did he ask you about it later?”
Bob shrugs and taps his cigarette into the ashtray, “Sure he did.”
Johnny’s stomach clenches nervously at this. “Well what did he say?”
Bob puffs heavily on his cigarette and Johnny waits patiently for him to answer.
“He’s not stupid, he knew we were up to something. Same goes for tonight, he knew what was going on, Johnny.” Bob explains, putting out his cigarette and finding Johnny’s eyes looking at him with a very strong sense of worry. “He would never say anything to anyone, he wouldn’t do that to me.” Bob tries to assure Johnny.
Johnny calms down at this, having no doubt that Bob only makes friends with people he can trust with his deepest secrets. “Alright, Bob.”
Bob just nods, fidgeting a bit now that he had finished his cigarette. Johnny continues to watch the younger man, hoping to settle his nerves a little, “What happened after he saw us kissing and left?”
Bob’s concerned frown quickly turns into a bright grin accompanied by a small chuckle, “We wasted no time in getting back to business.”
Johnny grins right back at him. “For months and months afterword I could still hear your sounds echoing over and over in my mind.”
“Oh, good heavens, Johnny.” Bob presses a hand to his face to hide the crimson creeping back onto his cheeks.
Johnny shrugs unabashedly. “You’re a very enthusiastic lover, Bobby.”
Bob groans into his hand, having nothing to say to that.
Johnny simply sits back and admires Bob in this light while he still can. They don’t get to see each other very often, so he wants to soak it all in while he has the chance.
Suddenly though, Bob’s standing from his chair and moving around the room. Johnny turns a little to watch Bob grab some clothes from his suitcase. “I’ll be out in a few, Johnny. The day’s left me feeling grimy.” He calls over his shoulder on his way to the bathroom.
Johnny narrows his eyes at the clothes in Bob’s hands, speaking up before the door shut behind the petite man, “What’s with change of clothes?”
Bob stops in the doorway of the bathroom and looks back at Johnny with narrowed eyes. “I’m taking a shower.”
Johnny grumbles under his breath as he stands from the table and heads in Bob’s direction. Bob gulps, slightly nervous when the tall man is standing in front of him. “Johnny--?”
“What’s the point in putting on new clothes when you’re just going to take them off again?” Johnny reaches forward to take the clothes from Bob’s hands, leaving the younger man standing there, mouth hung open.
“Hey, give those back, man.” He reaches for them but Johnny lifts the clothes above his head. Now that’s just cruel. Johnny is taller than Bob by at least 8 inches. No part of this is fair.
Bob bites his bottom lip and crosses his arms across his chest. “Johnny, come on.”
Johnny shakes his head, “Just shower and come out. You don’t need these.” He throws the clothes over his shoulder and when Bob tries to step around to retrieve the clothes, Johnny grabs the smaller man’s arm.
Before Bob can try to get away, Johnny’s grabbing his waist and pressing him to the wall, head dipping down to press a deep kiss to the folk singer’s lips. Bob kisses back without hesitation, letting himself be surrounded and enveloped by Johnny. Bob can feel himself being lifted and then his boots have left the floor as Johnny supports Bob’s weight with the help of the wall.
“Jesus, John—” Bob’s voice cuts off into a drawn-out moan as Johnny starts sucking at his neck, a sensitive spot Johnny remembers makes the smaller man lose his mind. “You’re gonna leave a mark.” He warns as his wrists drape across Johnny’s broad shoulders.
The older man growls in protest, desiring to leave his mark, but he never does anything that Bob doesn’t want him to. “Let me leave some marks elsewhere then.” He presses open-mouthed kisses up and down Bob’s neck, tugging the collar of Bob’s shirt down with his finger to reach more pale skin.
Bob feels himself getting harder beneath his pants at the mere thought of Johnny’s mouth traveling all down his body, leaving a rose petal trail of hickeys.
“Just—Just let me.” Bob’s having a hard time speaking, too lost in the sensations of Johnny’s lips at the sensitive skin of his throat, “Let me shower first and then you can go crazy, okay?”
Johnny is so hard though, so impossibly hard already and Bob wants him to stop? “Golly, Bob.” He lets his grip on the younger man’s thighs lesson so the other can get back on his feet. He steps back, observing the way Bob licks over his lips and exhales a sharp breath, running his hands through his curly hair.
Bob’s eyes flicker down to the obvious tent in Johnny’s pants and he pouts in sympathy, “I’ll try to be quick.”
Johnny doesn’t say anything, just steps back and watches as Bob reenters the bathroom, stopping the smaller man from closing the door. Bob looks at Johnny, exasperated, “Come on, Johnny.”
Suddenly the older man is nervous again, unsure of how to get these words out without sounding like a creep. “Sorry I just…You um…” He can’t help looking Bob up and down with longing. There isn’t really much to Bob, he probably weighs a buck .15 at most, but Johnny thinks he’s beautiful still.
The few times he’d seen Bob naked he couldn’t believe how small he really was. Sure, you can tell he’s small simply by how he never seemed to fill out his clothes, but to see him with none of that in the way…
“You can leave the door open…” He makes himself meet Bob’s ever scrutinizing blue eyes and the younger man looks mostly amused, but not bothered.
“Alright, man.” Bob’s back is to Johnny a second later as he moves through the bathroom. “I’ll try to be quick.” He takes a seat on the toilet lid, bending his knee to remove his boot and then the other.
Johnny leans against the doorway, heart beating a little bit erratically as he watches Bob strip down until there’s nothing left. He doesn’t look back at Johnny even once as he turns to start up the water, feeling the temperature is right before stepping inside. He leaves the curtain open, halfway, tipping his head back into the water before reaching for his shampoo bottle.
Johnny can hear Bob beginning to mumble a tune that’s muffled from the running shower, but it brings a small smile to Johnny’s lips anyway.
He watches Bob lather his hair in shampoo until reaching for the bar of soap to scrub at his body, eyes closed as he continues to hum. It isn’t long before Johnny realizes Bob is humming one of his songs, ‘I Still Miss Someone’.
Johnny is now grinning like an idiot, a pleasant feeling settling in him.
Bob rinses the shampoo from his hair then begins turning around to wash all the soap from his small frame.
Johnny grabs him a towel and steps in front of the shower. Bob moves his wet hair from his eyes and takes the towel gratefully, using it to ruffle across his hair to stop the water dripping all over his shoulders.
Johnny lets Bob dry off a bit before he gets impatient and scoops the smaller man up, carrying him bridle style out of the bathroom. “John!” Bob shouts in surprise but the country singer just laughs as he brings them over to the bed.
He lays Bob on his back at the edge of the bed, taking the towel from his hands to dry him off a little more himself before tossing the towel over his shoulder. His eyes devour the site of Bob’s petite but long body all spread out for him. He steps up so that he’s between Bob’s parted knees and smooths his large hands up Bob’s slim thighs, still slightly damp with water.
The younger man gasps at the soft touches, peering down to watch Johnny’s every move.
The older of the two hums in thought, gazing across Bob’s body which he’s beginning to realize had slimmed down slightly since he last saw the young poet. He’s concerned and it even makes him feel like he should be gentler this time around. The 24-year-old is so small Johnny feels like he could hurt him easily.
“Bob, you’ve lost some weight again.” He leans down to press a kiss to one of Bob’s knees, continuing his attentions down all the way to Bob’s thigh where he begins sucking at just as he had with Bob’s neck.
Bob lets out a moan and claws his fingers into the blankets, “Damn amphetamines, that’s why.”
Johnny clicks his tongue in disappointment. “You oughta quit them things, sweetheart. They’ll make your life hell. I would know.” He says between kisses up to Bob’s stomach right next to his belly button, sucking a dark hickey there to match the one at his thigh.
“Ahh, fuck.” Bob’s eyes shut tightly and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to keep himself from making any embarrassing noises. “My life is wonderful, especially right now, god, Johnny.” Bob reaches down to grab at brunet strands when Johnny’s lips are suddenly around the head of his dick, tongue lapping out against his sensitive and heated skin.
Johnny hums in appreciation at the response, grabbing onto the backs of Bob’s thighs in a firm grip as he takes Bob’s erection further into his mouth until he almost has it all, balls pressed against his tongue. He draws back until his lips rest around the tip, relishing in the low moan Bob releases. Johnny turns his eyes up to see Bob’s mouth hung open, blue eyes closed in attempt to shut all other senses aside from touch.
Johnny dips his tongue to the slit purposefully, his own dick twitching beneath his pants at Bob’s sharp hiss that ends on a guttural moan he couldn’t hold in.
Bob’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, mad at himself for making too much noise, as they never know who could be walking by the hotel room door.
All of his cares are forgotten momentarily, and Bob sees white as Johnny’s slides all the way down for 5 glorious seconds until the older man is pulling off for air.
“Shit!” Bob shouts in blinding pleasure as he suddenly comes without warning, pearly-white streaking across Johnny’s cheek as he turns to avoid it hitting him in the eye.
“You little shit, you came already?” Johnny sits back and wipes the come from his cheek before smoothing his dirtied hand over the white bedding.
He lets his hand trail up Bob’s thigh soothingly while the young man catches his breath.
Bob’s chest is heaving as he stares down at Johnny apologetically, body still tingling pleasantly from his intense orgasm. “Sorry.” He says so quietly that Johnny barely catches it.
Johnny smiles at him reassuringly, leaning down again to press a kiss to Bob’s inner thigh.
“S’alright, sweetheart.” He reaches down to rub against the aching erection begging for freedom in his pants, groaning at the brief relief the touch gives him.
“Let’s fuck now.” Bob says bluntly as he observes the other man’s obvious need, peering down at Johnny whose eyes shoot up to meet his with a lust ridden excitement.
Bob grins at his surprised expression and Johnny just crawls up Bob’s body to meet him for a kiss that Bob moans into. The poet wastes no time in searching for Johnny’s belt buckle, flicking it open in a moments time and pulling down the zipper.
Johnny groans deeply, exhaling a sigh of relief into the crook of Bob’s neck as the younger’s hand wraps around his base and tugs forward. Johnny curses at this and finds himself thrusting down into Bob’s hand while the other whistles at the weight of the erection in his hand, “Your size never ceases to astound me, John.”
Johnny always feels a little bit bad, even though Bob insists he can take it, Johnny knows he’s bigger than most. Not that Bob’s taken any other dick before anyway. Or so he claims.
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for, Bobby.” He whispers sincerely, eyes falling shut to take in the pleasure as Bob settles into a rhythm of strokes along his length.
“I want to,” Bob replies just as softly, “You reach places inside of me that I can’t get on my own.”
Johnny shudders at Bob’s words, remembering the first night they discovered his prostate and how it could give Bob the most powerful orgasms without touching his erection even once.
“Got anything we can use?” Johnny looks around them, spotting a small bottle of complimentary lotion on the nightstand, “That?” He points and Bob looks over, nodding fervently.
“Grab it.” He urges Johnny, voice expressing just how eager he is to get down to it.
Johnny does just that, sitting up on his knees and stretching his long body over Bob’s to retrieve the small bottle. He sets it aside for the moment as he removes his black suit jacket and places it at the end of the bed. He starts unbuttoning his shirt too but Bob grabs onto the lapels of said shirt and tugs Johnny down into a hungry kiss before he can start on the 3rd button.
Johnny is left winded by Bob’s fiery passion, letting the poet suck on his tongue and bottom lip while Johnny himself feels around for the bottle of lotion.
He manages to pour some into his palm, stroking over his erection a few times before pouring more over his fingers. He reaches his hand between them, pushing Bob’s thigh back while his other hand searches out for his soft entrance.
Bob breaks the kiss on a loud gasp when Johnny’s fingertip smooths around his hole gently before beginning to push inside.
He closes his eyes and whimpers softly into the crook of Johnny’s neck, arms clinging around broad shoulders.
“God almighty, are you tight or what?” Johnny whispers with a quiet little laugh into Bob’s ear, meanwhile the folk singer is trying to get his body to relax against the intrusion. “How in the world did I get inside the last time?” Johnny says mostly to himself as he carefully slides his finger all the way inside of the velvety walls, twisting his finger just a bit.
The simple motion has Bob moaning and twitching as Johnny’s finger just barely touches his g-spot.
“You finger-fucked me for nearly a half hour last time.” Bob manages words and Johnny hums at this, remembering it. He jabs his finger forward and Bob all but cries out, hand scrambling down to clutch Johnny’s wrist, “Right there.” His body craves to feel it harder and faster and he tugs at Johnny’s wrist causing his prostate to be pressed against again. “God!” He tosses his head back, “More fingers, Johnny. Hell, your dick. Put your dick in me.” His forehead is beaded with sweat, skin flushed and body tingling for more.
Johnny pulls his hand back and places two more fingertips in along with the first, sliding them in smoothly and not rushing. Bob’s intense arousal is tempting, but Johnny knows the 24-year-old still needs to be handled with care. It’s nothing like being with a woman. There’s no self-lubricant or even as much space inside. John is highly aware of this difference and wants to make sure Bob’s well taken care of.
He worships Bob’s neck and chest with wet, open-mouthed kisses before settling on a tiny nipple that he laves his tongue over while starting a gentle thrusting of his fingers.
Bob’s tossing his head back and forth, fingers tangling into Johnny’s dark hair. His previously spent dick now fully erected once again and aching against his lower belly. “Johnny, Johnny, god right there.”
“I got you, darlin’, you’re doing so well. Man, you’re so beautiful like this.” Johnny can’t wait to get himself inside of Bob’s soft as silk walls, knowing how warm and welcoming the other feels once you get in there.
Johnny tested out what thrusting harder and faster would result in, and he isn’t disappointed as Bob’s back arches right off the bed. He cries out some more curses, muttering words Johnny can’t even decipher, but it doesn’t matter.
“Look at that,” Johnny keeps up the rough thrusting as he shakes his head in wonder, “Just like a woman.”
“Hell,” Bob, blinded by desire, shoves Johnny’s arm aside, effectively removing the long fingers and tugs the other down on top of him. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t think.” He pants the heavy words into Johnny’s mouth.
Johnny doesn’t have to be told twice, doesn’t even care that he’s still fully dressed. He grabs the base of his erection as he pushes Bob’s thigh back to give himself better access. He licks over his lips at the sight of Bob’s red and slickened hole, pressing his tip against it until the skin begins to give and he slides inside smoothly.
Bob’s jaw drops open and Johnny looks up to make sure the other is doing okay. Bob just nods at him and so Johnny continues until he’s halfway inside of the tight heat. He can feel Bob’s ass fluttering around him and it’s always such a surreal feeling, knowing that this is him, Bobby Dylan that he’s inside.
“Bobby, Bobby.” Johnny lets his forehead rest against Bob’s shoulder, “Let me know when you’re good, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to Bob’s cheek, focusing on the soft inhales and exhales of his lover whose fingers are clinging onto his back, ready to hang on for the ride.
Once Bob’s breathing has evened out, he nods for Johnny to go on. “Start slow.”
“I will, darlin’.”
Johnny works carefully and gradually, paying close attention to Bob to make sure that it’s getting easier on him. Johnny doesn’t go in all the way until he feels Bob’s hips rolling down along with his, and that’s when he thrusts forward. Bob seems to enjoy that, fingers digging into Johnny’s back and releasing a throaty moan. So Johnny puts a little bit more strength into each of his thrusts until he’s at a pace that’s good for them both. Bob is gasping and groaning at each and every drag and push of Johnny’s erection inside of him, forcing himself to keep his noises mostly muffled.
“So fuckin’ tight, Bob.” Johnny says between clenched teeth, placing his hands beside Bob’s head to adjust the angle of his hips, before he begins thrusting in even deeper.
The slight change causes him to begin hitting Bob’s prostate on every thrust and the younger man can no longer hold back. He’s crying out and anticipating each thrust of Johnny’s hips as pleasure begins to consume his entire body, “Fuck! Oh! God! John, right there, don’t stop.”
“I got you, baby. Fuck you feel so good, so fucking perfect.” Johnny stares down into Bob’s crystal blue eyes, taking in deep satisfaction in the way Bob’s eyes are squinted with pleasure, staring right back into Johnny’s.
Johnny captures Bob’s lips and speeds up his thrusts impossibly harder, mouth catching all of Bob’s high-pitched moans.
They’re both on their way, pleasure building high in the pits of their stomachs when the hotel phone’s sharp ringing pierces through the thick air.
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Johnny’s exhales loudly, hips halting immediately but Bob groans in disfavor, heartbeat thrumming loudly against his ribcage.
“Johnny, forget it,” He reaches up to place both hands on the country singer’s cheeks, trying to bring him down for another kiss but Johnny grumbles, eyes looking toward the phone.
“Are you sure, Bobby?” He finds Bob’s eyes again and the folk singer nods, wiggling his hips eagerly to try to get the other man going again. Johnny moans and shuts his eyes, shuddering at the fluttering of Bob’s soft walls stroking him just right.
The phone’s ringing rages on though, and Johnny can’t help thinking that it could be important if it’s this late at night. “Bob, I think we should answer it. We can always continue afterward.” He’s already taking Bob’s hands from his cheeks and sliding his erection out carefully.
Bob hisses a curse under his breath in irritation, and Johnny is reaching over for the phone, holding it out for the younger to take since it’s his room.
Bob glares at Johnny, legs still dangling open obscenely as he snatches the phone from him. “Waylon Jennings speaking.” Bob answers, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone.
Bob’s stomach sinks at sound of June Carter’s voice entering his ears and his eyes shoot to Johnny’s.
“Bob, isn’t that you?” She sounds highly amused and that’s when Bob, wide eyed, shoves the phone into Johnny’s hands, shaking his head rapidly and mouthing who it is.
Johnny’s eyes also grow wide and he fumbles with the phone a moment before he gets it against his ear, “Hello, June?”
Bob presses his hands to his face, guilt overcoming him as he turns away into the pillows, listening to Johnny talking softly over the phone.
“No I was just sharing a drink with Bob then I was gonna head on back to the room.” Johnny cards his hand through his hair anxiously, other hand at his mouth biting at his fingernails. “I wont be more than 30 more minutes…Mhmm…You don’t have to wait up…Okay…See you in a bit then.” He hangs up swiftly and snaps a curse under his breath.
He turns toward Bob to find the other facing away from him, body curled up against himself, “Bobby.” He places a hand on Bob’s hip easily turning the other back on his back with a bit of force.
Bob shakes his head as he looks up into Johnny’s eyes, and Johnny can see that Bob’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, and not in result of their coupling, “You should go back to her, Johnny.”
Johnny feels his stomach sink, “Bob—”
“She’s your girl, and here you are—”
“She ain’t my wife, Bobby—”
“She’s going to be!”
Johnny grunts and looks away from the young man, eyes falling upon the carpet as his thoughts race. “I would like to finish what we started, Bobby.” He takes one of Bob’s hands in his, squeezing it earnestly as he looks back at the others face.
“You don’t feel bad, John?” Bob asks desperately, squeezing Johnny’s hand in return.
Johnny sighs heavily and moves to lie down next to Bob, wrapping an arm around his waist as he snuggles in close, ignoring the ache in his erection against Bob’s thigh. “How often do I get to see you?”
Bob meets Johnny’s eyes, their faces now only inches apart, “I know but—”
“I’ll never get to be with you in the way I want to.” Johnny’s fingertips caress Bob’s cheek, trailing down until they reach Bob’s pouting lips.
Bob’s eyes are full of sadness at Johnny’s words and he can feel himself getting choked up, as being with Johnny seriously, as a ,couple, is something he’s has thought about more than he’d care to admit. “John…”
“These short opportunities are enough for me if they’re enough for you.” He presses a chaste kiss to Bob’s lips.
Bob isn’t okay with it. He wouldn’t let Johnny or anyone ever know it; but he longs for more. Johnny would never sacrifice or risk anyone finding out about them, and Bob knows this.
He can’t bring himself to voice it though, so he instead swings his leg around Johnny’s lap and pushes the older man onto his back. Bob dips his head down for a kiss, feeling Johnny’s hands come up to grab his hips. Bob’s hand reaches back, grasping at Johnny’s erection so he can lift himself and slide it back inside.
This time it’s Johnny’s moans that are swallowed up in Bob’s mouth as the folk singer kisses him deeply, tongue delving into Johnny’s mouth eagerly.
Bob sees stars when he’s sat all the way down on Johnny’s lap and his prostate is teased at by Johnny’s tip. He breaks their kiss to sit back, placing his hands on Johnny’s chest to steady himself as he starts working his hips downward.
They’re both panting heavily as Bob sets into a steady rhythm, knees doing all the work in lifting and dropping himself back down on Johnny’s cock.
“Mmm,” He moans as he gazes with lidded eyes down at Johnny, whose mouth is hung open in pure bliss, holding Bob’s hands in a vice grip to help him come down harder. “Shit!” Bob shouts as his g-spot is hit.
“That’s it, baby.” Johnny encourages Bob, smoothing his hands around to grab onto Bob’s ass. Johnny plants his feet flat on the bed and starts swinging his hips up into Bob’s, almost causing the folk singer to topple over from the mere force of the thrusts.
“Christ, John!” Bob knows he’s going to come soon if Johnny keeps up that pace, and well, it happens sooner than he’d initially thought. One more jab to his prostate and he’s coming all across Johnny’s belly, some even reaching the older man’s chest as Bob rides out his orgasm.
“Hell yeah, Bob, I knew you’d come from my cock alone.” Johnny is grabbing onto Bob’s thighs as he flips them over, lips smashing against Bob’s as he seeks out his own orgasm with continued thrusts into Bob’s spent body.
The folk singer doesn’t seem to mind, simply clings onto Johnny’s back eyes squeezed shut as he’s blinded by oversensitivity at repeated hits across his prostate. Bob screams as a second unexpected roll of blinding pleasure sweeps through him and his ass clenches tightly around Johnny’s dick as another rope of come shoots out of his cock.
“Fuck!” The country singer shouts as Bob’s ass all but sucks his orgasm out of him, come spurting deep inside of Bob who’s writhing and panting heavily against the larger man.
John sits back and slips his cock out, letting the last bit of come shoot out across Bob’s thighs and lower belly, while the folk singer just lies there trying to catch his breath.
Johnny strokes over himself a few more times as his eyes take in the breathtaking sight of Bob, long legs spread, blue eyes never leaving his.
“We’re getting good at that.” Bob offers sweetly and Johnny gives a soft chuckle, smoothing a hand up Bob’s thigh appreciatively, humming in agreement.
“Where did you learn to ride dick like that?” Johnny asks playfully and Bob chuckles, shrugging his boney shoulders.
“That was my first time.”
“Aw, hell. Next time you’re riding me all night, man. That was such a turn on.” Johnny pats Bob’s thigh one last time before he lies down next to him, wrapping an arm around Bob’s waist.
Bob scoffs at the suggestion, letting his eyes fall shut though he wasn’t tired at all, “It’s more work than it looks like.”
“Well shit, it’s all hard work, but it wouldn’t be so good if we were lazy about it.” Johnny says, caressing Bob’s belly up and down, totally content with lying here with the younger man.
Bob however, is starting to well up with guilt again as he remembers that little interruption they’d had.
“Well good thing we’re both hopped up on amphetamines then, huh?” Bob is suddenly sitting up and away to the edge of the bed, where he runs a hand through his hair before standing up.
He can feel Johnny’s come drying on his legs and he wants a shower badly.
He grabs the towel they’d tossed aside earlier and wraps it about his waist. He can already feel something trickling down his leg and he groans at the sensation, “Shouldn’t you be heading back to June now?” He heads for the bathroom.
“Everything alright, Bobby?”
He hears Johnny call from the bedroom before he starts up the shower, feeling dirty in more ways than physical.
“Just fine, Johnny.” Bob mumbles, and he knows the country singer can’t hear him but he could really care less.
June’s call had snapped Bob into reality and left him feeling like a piece of meat. He doesn’t know why but it made him feel particularly mad with his good friend. If Johnny really, truly wanted to be with Bob like he had confessed after June’s call, then he would try to be with Bob despite everything. Bob thinks that he’d only said it to calm Bob down so they could finish fucking; and it had worked.
Bob felt like a fool, especially for allowing Johnny to get what he wanted out of him.
He stepped underneath the showers spray, hoping Johnny would be gone by the time he got out.
Big mistake on his part because as soon as he starts scrubbing at his body, Johnny is there, pulling the shower curtain back. Bob grumbles and turns his back to the older man.
“I know you’re upset, Bobby.”
Bob scoffs, “You don’t know shit, man. I could never be upset with anything concerning you.”
Johnny hopes that Bob realizes how often he contradicts himself, but he won’t call him out on it. “Can I use your shower before I go?”
Bob wants to turn around and punch the other in the face, “Can’t you wait until I’m done?”
Johnny’s eyebrows raise in surprise but he doesn’t argue with the other. If he isn’t wanted then he isn’t wanted. “Sure thing, Bobby.” He shuts the curtain and leaves the bathroom without another word.
Bob takes another 5 minutes in the shower before he shuts it off and grabs a fresh towel. He exits the bathroom to find Johnny finally undressed with a towel around his waist sitting at a reading chair in the corner of the room. Bob feels sort of bad about the way he’d treated the other but he knows he wasn’t wrong for being upset.
“All yours.” Bob announces, looking away just as Johnny’s head turns up to meet his eyes.
“Thank you.” Johnny says nothing more as he rises from the chair.
Bob sighs heavily once he’s alone, pulling on a pair of boxers and nothing else before tugging the sweaty and come soaked sheets from the bed and dropping them to the floor. He plans on placing a call to have the maid bring him up clean blankets, but not right now. In the meantime, he turns on the television and grabs one of the mostly clean pillows and lies back on the fitted sheet. He lights up some incense before sparking up a joint he had rolled earlier for himself.
He’s positively high by the time Johnny finishes up in the bathroom and the older man immediately notices the strong smell of pot and incense in the air.
He shakes his head with a laugh as he goes to open the large hotel window to air out the room. He redresses in silence, eyes lingering on Bob as he does so. The younger is obviously done with him, not interested in engaging anymore conversation. Johnny would be damned if he let them separate with words left unsaid. He can only hope that it goes better and not worse.
“You gonna tell me what I did wrong?” He sits back in the chair once he’s completely dressed, crossing his fingers in his lap. He takes in Bob’s position on the bed, lying on his stomach with his knees bent so his bare feet are in the air, shins crossed as he took a long drag from his Marlboro cigarette. His sharp, bright-sky eyes are fixed to the TV.
Bob takes another on-edge drag from his cigarette, releasing the smoke from his nose, before licking over his dry lips. “I’ve got nothing to tell, no.” He says bitterly without taking his eyes from the TV screen.
Johnny can feel himself getting a little irritated, though he knows he has no right to be. “You’re upset with me, though.”
Bob joggles his foot anxiously at Johnny’s ability to read him so well. He only shrugs his shoulder dismissively. “Why should I be upset? It was really good, I had fun.”
Johnny growls in frustration. Who the hell is Bob trying to fool? Johnny stands from the chair to head in Bob’s direction. He comes to stand in front of the others view of the television. Bob huffs in annoyance and sits back to get away but Johnny snatches a boney arm and keeps Bob in place.
“You wanted me to come. You had your manager call me up here. So, what is the fucking deal?” He lets Bob’s arm go as the songwriter tugs viciously to get away from him.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Bob shouts and moves away to the far end of the bed against the headboard.
“What the hell did I do!? I only gave you what the fuck you wanted, Bobby!” He shouts from where he stands at the foot of the bed, “You know that I wish there could be more between us—”
“Oh, shut the hell up. Get out of here, John.” Bob waves him off and lights up a new cigarette, taking a swift hit and yelling when Johnny doesn’t move to exit, “I don’t want more from you, stop flattering yourself!”
Johnny’s body is thrumming with desperation to get his feelings through to the younger man. “Then what’s with the mood, baby?”
Bob’s finger’s twitch at the endearment and he scoffs in disgust, bringing his cigarette to his lips for another puff, “You’ve got some nerve calling me that.”
Johnny rolls his eyes and presses his hands flat on the mattress, eyes trained intently on the other. “Don’t avoid the question, Bobby.” He reaches forward and wraps his fingers around Bob’s ankle, not surprised when the other shoves him off with a threatening growl.
“My mood is that my ass fucking hurts and I’m restless. Now get the hell out of my hotel room. She’s waiting for you.” He hisses the last sentence with resentment and Johnny doesn’t even have to wonder anymore.
“I see.” He nods and stands up straight. “So, you don’t want to see me again, is that it?”
Bob shrugs as he flicks his ash into the nightstand ashtray. “If I feel like getting fucked, sure.”
That stings, and Johnny suddenly doesn’t even want to try reasoning with the other. This is what happens when you fuck your friend. “Well, this obviously ain’t workin’ out for us, so you better go ahead and find someone else for that.” He turns around, making his way for the door. He knows his words were just another attempt at hiding his true feelings from the young man. If Johnny ever gets word of any other man being intimate with Bob, he might have to strangle the bastard.
“Suppose I do?” Bob calls and Johnny stops in his tracks, looking over at Bob with a flicker of fury in his eyes. Bob’s lip quirks up, continuing. “That Waylon Jennings does look mighty tempting.”
Johnny growls internally as Bob admits to finding another man attractive. Johnny has met Waylon a few times in passing and he indeed is handsome. It makes him insanely jealous that the folk-country singer has caught Bob’s attention.
Johnny snorts in disappointment and turns back to the door. “Mighty married too.”
“That never stopped you, though, did it Johnny-boy?”
That twinge of possessiveness in the pit of John’s stomach starts bubbling again and he chews at his lip in distress. “You were awful welcoming yourself.” Is all he can say or else he’d be screaming his opposition of Bob finding someone new.
Bob huffs stubbornly and averts his eyes back to the TV. “Why are you still here?”
“Oh, I’m gone, sweetheart.”
Johnny doesn’t bother to say any more as he leaves the hotel room, shutting the door tightly behind himself.
Bob feels tears already welling in his eyes the second after the door closes and he hates himself for it. Hates Johnny more though. Why did the country singer have to say those things? Say that he wanted more with Bob? He should have just kept it to himself because now it’s torturing the poet, uncertain if Johnny was being sincere.
To Be Continued…