Missing Dreams

Missing Dreams

“That guy is staring at you again.”

Four men, all dressed rough clothes, were having a drink after a hard day’s work. Bastian didn’t look up when he heard the remark. He was sitting with his back to the bar, on purpose. Every day, they came to that pub to have a drink and relax. Since three weeks, almost every day, a man was staring intensely at them. More specifically, he was staring at Bastian.

“Maybe you should ask him what he wants…?”

“I think I can guess what he wants,” Bastian snapped. “I’m not daft.” It was supposed to be a straight pub, but everybody knew it was the only pub in miles. Everybody came there. They had no other choice.

“Not daft, no… But obviously attractive to him.”

Bastian almost kicked his co-worker under the table. Instead, he grunted something, and finished his drink. “I’m going.” He needed the cold and a cigarette.

It had been snowing. In this part of the world, snow was common and nothing to complaint about. Bastian pulled the ear flaps of his fur hat down and his collar up. He protected the flame of his lighter against the icy wind, and lit a cigarette. As he inhaled, he thought about the intense stare of the man in the pub.
He hated it when his co-workers joked about gay men finding him attractive. He always drew attention, wherever he went, much to the amusement of others. So far, he knew how to turn those men down. They never persisted. But this one… This one wasn’t discouraged by his cold response.

The stranger didn’t look gay. In this hostile environment everyone, male and female, was dressed in chequered blouses, jeans and heavy boots. It was almost impossible to find a soul mate by looks alone. It was in the eyes, he had been told. Find the right eyes and you’ll find your mate.
The eyes of this stranger were dark blue, alert, and very intense. As Bastian thought at them, he shivered. He blamed the cold wind. But he didn’t buy it himself.

The snow crunched under Bastian’s boots as he walked home. The pale sun tried to force its last rays through the thickening clouds. It promised to snow again, that night. Bastian loved to wake up in a white, quiet world.

His home was a good distance from town. It was a simple, primitive wooden hut, insulated with hay and stuccoed with clay. It had only one stove for heating and cooking. Bastian never cooked. Like most single men in this town, he ate at work or in the local pub.
With a few arms full of wood, Bastian went inside. He lit a fire and opened another bottle of vodka. Time to relax and enjoy a peaceful night. Tomorrow it was weekend. Awesome.

*

Bastian jerked up when the door rattled. Blinking, he realised he had fallen asleep on his sofa, cosily tucked away under a blanket and in the warmth of the stove. Without wondering what had shaken his door, he stood up to put another block on the fire. He gasped when he heard the knocking on a window. He had a guest…

Knowing he was far away from his first neighbours and alone in a hut on a hill, Bastian didn’t exactly throw the door wide open. First, he tightened the rope of his thick bathrobe, and slipped in a pair of woollen slippers. Then he took his gun from its hooks. It was loaded. “Who’s there?” he yelled, pressed against the wall next to the door.

“I’m looking for shelter,” Bastian heard a male voice say. “It’s snowing severely. I can’t make it home.”

“Who are you?”

“You don’t know me. My name is Andre. Please let me in? My nuts are freezing off.”

“Are you armed?” Bastian cocked the gun, aiming it at the door as he put his hand on the knob.

“Of course I’m armed,” the man muttered impatiently. “Would you go up here in the dark without a gun? There’s bears out here!”

“Keep your hands where I can see them, and make no sudden moves.” Slowly, Bastian turned the knob, and opened the door. “Oh. It’s you.”

*

The wind had picked up. Bastian had closed the shutters and the thick curtains, locking out the cold and muffling the sounds. “It’s a snowstorm,” he mumbled, pushing a rolled up woollen blanket against the underside of the door.

“Got enough wood inside?”

“Sure... Pour me another drink, will you?”

Andre obeyed, refilling both glasses. He looked quite at ease, resting in the fact he wouldn’t be able to leave that night. “It hasn’t been this bad in months,” he commented.

Bastian joined him on the large sofa, pulling his legs up and under the blanket, sharing it with the stranger. “I reckon this means the winter has started...”

“Probably. I must buy a snow scooter or I’ll be stuck more often. Thanks for taking me in.”

“I couldn’t let anyone die out there.” Not even strangers with piercing blue eyes, Bastian added in his thoughts.

So far, it wasn’t awkward at all. Andre simply sat on the sofa, enjoying the warmth and peace, calmly sipping his vodka, just like Bastian. He didn’t try to touch him, or seduce him. He didn’t say anything wrong either. Perhaps Bastian’s initial thoughts were wrong after all. This was no gay man. Bastian relaxed some more.

“Where’s your hut?”

Andre pointed over his shoulder. “Next hill. I bought it a few months ago. It’s not as cosy as this one yet.”

“Cosy?” Was that a word straight men would use? “Uhm... Thank you, I guess...” Bastian shifted a bit. It was warm, under the blanket. He could feel Andre’s warmth. “Where do you work?”

“At the quarry. Everybody works there, don’t they? What other options are there, around here...?”

“Slim to none,” Bastian had to admit. He worked at the quarry as well. He had an office job. Adrian looked like he worked on the trucks, with his big hands and prominent belly. “So where’re you from, originally?”

“Originally?” Andre finished his drink, and pushed the glass away from him. He had enough. “The city. I’m a city slicker.”

Bastian laughed briefly. “Yes, you look like one,” he mocked. He knew the city people. They walked around on shoes, avoiding puddles, and were dressed in far too expensive clothes. They never stayed for long. “What brought you here?”

“Oh... The nice scenery, the weather, the pretty girls...” Andre made a dainty movement with a hand, looking preposterous.

This time, Bastian laughed aloud. “Ah, of course... We all come for that, hm? The girls, especially.” There were no girls, in this town. Women, yes. Big, butch women, and only a few. They looked just like the men.

“Actually, I came to make money. It pays well, and takes little to live here. So how about you? Born here?”

“Yep,” Bastian nodded. He too put his glass away, and he crawled a bit deeper under the blanket. His feet accidentally touched Andre’s thigh. He quickly pulled them away. “Born here, left when I was a teenager, studied in the city, came back to work. This is my home.”

“Nice. So the clichés are true, eh? You can take the man out of the town, but not the town out of the man...?”

“Yeah. It’s true. Can you take the city out of the man?”

“Heh.” Andre shook his head, and stretched his legs forward. He folded his arms behind his neck, relaxing some more. “Probably not. I guess I have some thoughts and manners unsuitable for this place.”

Bastian slowly raked his eyes from the man’s dark hair, down the broad shoulders and chest, over the full belly, and down the legs under the blanket. He ended at the large feet in the hand-knitted woollen socks. He almost sighed. Mentally, he slapped his own face. Focus! “Like what?”

“Mm...” Andre pulled his lips in a slightly mocking smile. His dark-blue eyes fixed on Bastian’s, and narrowed a little. “I believe my unsuitable thoughts are the same as yours, little Bas...”

Self-consciously, Bastian stroked a lock of brown hair behind his ear. He managed to keep from blushing, but only because he bit his tongue. Hard. His mumbling response was inaudible, and even he didn’t know what he was saying.

“Where can I sleep, Bas?”

“Huh?” Bastian blinked as he got a grip. “Sleep?”

“Yes, sleep... Or would you like to stay up all night, and talk, little Bas? I wouldn’t mind, you know. You’re nice company.”

“Sleep! Yes. Of course. Uhm. You can stay on the sofa, of course.” His bed was large enough, but he couldn’t offer a place in bed, could he? Even in this small town, grown men didn’t sleep in the same bed. “And you can just call me Bastian, you know...”

“Of course,” Adrian mocked with a wink. “Sofa, and Bastian. Of course.” Under the blanket, his hand moved aside, closing around Bastian’s ankle. “How’s your love life, Bastian?”

Even though he had nothing in his mouth, Bastian coughed as something went down the wrong way. “My what?” he croaked. “Why do you ask? It’s fine!”

“Yeah. I’m sure it is, with all those nice young girls in this town.” The warm hand slid higher, up Bastian’s calf.

Bastian was suddenly very aware he was naked under his robe. If Andre moved a bit deeper, he would touch his... “I have a girl in the city!”

For a moment, Andre froze. His eyes narrowed again, piercingly looking at his younger host. “I almost believed you,” he said slowly.

“You...” Bastian’s words got stuck in his throat as Andre’s hand slid between his legs. “Ah...”

Andre moaned approvingly, gently kneading. “Nice balls,” he said under his breath. He licked his lips, and his eyes softened as they lost focus. “Gorgeous cock... Growing nicely, too.”

Bastian wanted to pull away. He truly wanted to. In his mind, he slapped the kneading hand away, and punched him on the nose. The image changed abruptly when he felt the strong fingers between his butt cheeks. His eyes fluttered close, and he lost control over his muscles. It seemed his whole body opened up to receive.

“Do you still want me to sleep on the sofa, not-so-little Bas...?”

“Uh...” Bastian leaned his head in his neck, eyes still closed. “Fuck you,” he mumbled unconvincingly. Unconsciously, his legs spread wider as the fingers rubbed against his ass.

“Would you like to? I may return the pleasure, Bas. I just might do so. Unless you have a girl, of course.”

“No girl,” Bastian confessed quietly. The tip of one finger pressed through his ring of muscle, making him shiver. With the lack of women in this town, most boys had experimented with other boys. Some liked it. Bastian had been one of them, until he went to the city. He hadn’t been with a man ever since. A moan escaped him as the finger worked deeper inside, sending a delightful sting through his ass. “...want...”

“You want?” Andre smiled. “That’s good. I want too. I need, even.”

“Need... Yes...” The dry finger retracted. Bastian opened his eyes, sighing. “I knew you were one of them...”

“It takes one to know one,” Andre winked at him. “I saw you, and I knew.”