NEON COWBOY

Adrik Kemp

This city is my city. It’s where I’m meant to be. The streets are long and crowded and never quiet. The people are loud and rude and in it for themselves. And the way it lights up at night is like Christmas year round. I have to see the city whenever I’m done with my gigs. I like to go up to the rooftop restaurant, when Billy’s the only one left cleaning up, and take a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, saunter over to the edge, and plonk myself down. I always drink a little on my own before Billy’s done and comes to join me.

Tonight, as every night, the city is scattered beneath my dangling legs. I’m still wearing the diamanté-studded, red-vinyl and fake-furred cowboy boots from the gig. The rhinestones catch the city’s neon signs and traffic lights and refract them over my bare legs. The wind is warm over my skin and the vodka helps heat me up from the inside. My Y-fronts are grimy; not from age but from all the men and women touching them all night, from the crusty bills stuffed in the elastic, and from the spilled alcohol that always gets down the front. I only ever wear them once.

I glance back at Billy, wondering when he’ll be done so we can drink the night away, but he’s still mopping the floor. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt and black jeans like always, a little gap of his freckled back showing as he runs the mop over the floor. His auburn hair is long at the front and flops over his sweat-sheened face as he works.

Between my legs, the casino looms beneath me. Lights run up and down the entire length of the building in every color that technology can provide. As I’m chugging from the vodka bottle, the thick, clear liquid glows red, yellow, orange, and all the colors of the rainbow before it hits my mouth and burns down my throat. I swallow and grin at the night, put the bottle on the ledge beside me, and stretch.

It feels good to stretch after a night of dancing. My back cracks and my arms tense, muscles popping as I flex and relax, flex and relax. I put my hands behind me and lean back to look at the sky. Billy’s right behind me, hair hanging over his face still, smiling into my eyes.

“Hey, cowboy,” he winks at me, “room for one more?”

I pull the bottle up and gesture for him to sit down.

Billy puts a hand on the ledge and sits facing the bar instead of the city. He always does this. He’s afraid of falling. I put one hand on his thigh and bring the bottle to my lips with the other to have another swig of multicolored vodka.

Billy grabs the bottle from me and takes a swig of his own. The lights from the casino shine over his back, but he is more of a silhouette than me and the vodka stays clear while it enters him. He gasps and wipes his mouth.

“How’s your night?” Billy says.

I shrug, “Same as always. The guys wanna try a new routine next week, so I gotta work on that tomorrow….”

“Still cowboys?”

“Still cowboys. Chicks love it.”

“And dudes.”

I grin. “And dudes.”

Billy pulls a soft pack of smokes from his front pocket. He knocks one out and slots it in his mouth. He’s always used matches instead of a lighter because the sulphur tastes better than lighter fluid. He lights a match, glances at me, and sucks the flame back through the cigarette, exhaling to blow the match out. The smoke is thick in the air and clouds around him in bluish puffs. He offers me the pack but knows I don’t smoke. I do like watching him smoke though, the way his lips meet around the filter and the smoke drifts from his lips and nostrils when he’s contemplating whatever it is he thinks about between drags.

“You look like that sign.”

I know the one he means.

“The cowboy one, out the front of a bar down the street a bit. Neon blue jeans, red shirt and yellow cowboy hat.”

I look at my bulging Y-fronts and sparkling boots and snigger. “You never see me in more than this.”

“No, but I imagine.”

“What do you imagine?”

Billy leans forward and kisses me, cigarette dangling between his legs. He smells like sweat and old beer, tobacco and perfume, old denim and the city. I kiss him back, our tongues working together while his stubble rubs tiny tracks in the baby oil covering my face and body. He pulls back and grins, wiping his hair back. He’s got perfect eyebrows, half arches that give his brown eyes a brooding quality he uses on all the boys. His nose is small, faintly freckled, but you can only see it in the UV in the bars, and his lips are full and the color of a peach in the sunlight and blue-gray by night. He bites his bottom lip on the left. Looks like it might burst, so I pull him closer by the thigh and kiss him once more.

Billy runs a hand over my thigh and over my Y-fronts. He doesn’t stop though, just keeps exploring the six-pack above and the chiseled pectorals and pink, oiled, hair-free nipples that are the very least a dancer like me needs to maintain. His touch is different from the screaming, clawing, grabbing talons of the men and women in the casino. Billy doesn’t rub his money over my nipples and shove it down my oil-slicked chest to my Y-fronts. He doesn’t try to grab my junk, even though he can and does all the time. He always holds out as long as he can. He pulls back and blushes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Want another drink?” He passes the vodka.

I hold his gaze for a moment, wondering if he’ll say it today; tell me I’m beautiful and perfect. I wonder if he’ll look at me the way he does sometimes, the way that keeps me coming back here night after night, like I’m the only thing he can see. But he looks instead at the city. I take the vodka and swig a couple of shots down. The city is blurring, spinning beneath us. I pull back and sit against the ledge, booted feet firm on the rooftop floor. Billy touches my spiked, blond-frosted hair. He told me once I looked like a boy band member only bigger. I guess I’m used to being larger than life.

I reach up and pull Billy down by the back of his neck to kiss me upside down. His nose tickles my chin and his hair falls on my neck. I guide him to a sitting position on top of me and pull off his shirt. For a moment, his face is hidden and all I can see is his chest reflecting red lights from the city. His athletic build is covered in soft red hair that trails from the center of his chest out to his dark-pink nipples and down his abs to enter his jeans. As usual, he’s not wearing underwear.

Then his shirt is off, the lights have changed to blue, and he’s leaning down to kiss me. His cock is pressing against the inside of his jeans and grinding against my own. His chest touches mine and our nipples graze as he kisses me like it’s the last time we’ll ever kiss. My body always runs hotter than most but with Billy on top of me, I become a furnace. I pull him down and press against him as if I’m trying to force our bodies to fuse. He has one hand at my neck and one at my thigh, rubbing a thumb under the elastic of my Y-fronts. I lift my crotch up and pull us both up to stand over the city. In the distance, under the wind, traffic drones endlessly around us.

I grab for the belt around his waist and have it off in seconds and then pop open his fly and pull down his jeans. I let them stay around his ankles and admire the cock that bounces out over shaven balls. It shines in the light, glistening at the head. I drop to my knees, calves touching the backs of my cowboy boots, hands on each of Billy’s thighs, and his cock rammed in my mouth. Billy’s thickness fills me completely, better than any rainbow vodka I could drink. He thrusts along with my strokes, and dribbles of saliva drop to the concrete beneath us. I grab at my own cock and flop it out beneath. It’s long and thick, hair pruned the same as Billy’s. I don’t often take it out at shows but I need to be ready just in case. I start pumping it, feeling my balls tense below me and the irresistible urge to come rising almost instantly.

Billy gasps and a shudder runs from inside him through his balls and up his shaft into my mouth. He pulls out suddenly in a wet daze and looks up at the sky. I can taste precum in the back of my throat and get up to kiss Billy hard. Our cocks come together, mine propped up by the Y-fronts I only pushed down. I grind against him and Billy gasps and blows his load all over my abs. I feel the quick burst of superheated semen spill from him as his cheeks flush and his eyes roll back in his head and he gives himself over to the orgasm. He snaps back after a couple of seconds, blushes deeply, and lets me kiss him.

“Sorry.”

“You’re the hottest man I’ve ever known,” I say, “and making you come is all I ever want.” I kiss him again, pull away, and wipe his cum into my skin. I lift my sticky fingers to my nose and sniff; it’s like bleach and teenage boys. I lick one and grin at Billy, still stroking my cock.

Billy notices my movement and pulls his jeans back up. He holds up a finger and smiles. “I’ll be right back. Don’t stop.”

I shrug and keep pulling my cock and licking my fingers. I turn back to look over the city and remember how it felt to have Billy explode onto me. I close my eyes and on the inside of my eyelids, see the neon cowboy Billy told me I look like. He’s grinning and spinning a lasso in three motions that repeat over and over again. One of the neon lights that make up his jeans has blown and one of his shirt lights buzzes softly. It’s the mascot for a bar down the street. I’ve never noticed before but the square jaw and muscular body are a little like mine. I’m built to be desirable.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and move to look and kiss Billy but he stops me.

“Don’t turn around yet.”

I wait and after a second, red, blue, and yellow light switches on behind me, combating the light of the city in front of me. I turn around and Billy is wearing light. He’s got rope lights attached to his bare body, blue on the legs, red on the chest and arms, and a big yellow cowboy hat on his head.

“What the hell?” I grin.

“Surprise. I thought you could use this sometime, in your show.”

I look at the Y-fronts Billy has concealing a pink, glowing cock and point at it.

Billy puts his thumbs under the elastic and pulls the Y-fronts up and away. He lets his big, pink, glowing cock flop out and steps out of the underwear.

“Take off your underwear,” Billy says.

I raise an eyebrow but comply, tossing them off the side of the building to flutter to the street below. I keep stroking my cock but it’s harder than ever now at the sight of Billy lit up like a neon cowboy.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Billy says, “so turn around and face the city.”

I nearly blow right there. I’m torn between watching the city while he fucks me and watching Billy dressed as a neon god fuck me. I sit back on the ledge and pull up my legs. My hole is oiled from my body and kept as hairless as my cock. It relaxes at the sight of Billy and the neon cowboy coming toward me.

The lights are warm against my skin. Billy’s cock juts at my hole, looking for the way in, and when it enters, the lights around it buzz like the cowboy on the inside of my eyelids. Billy drives his enhanced cock into me and starts thrusting. I gasp, my back on the ledge, legs in the air, and head thrown back to look at the upside-down city I call home. Billy keeps thrusting, but leans forward and pulls me into a kiss, lights brushing on my nipples and through my hair. He grins and his face is lit in yellow from his hat and red from his chest. His eyes are dark pits and for a few moments, it’s like the sign has come to life just to fuck me. Billy and his pink, pulsating, glowing cock thrust again and again and while I grip the edge of the building to stop us from falling and stop myself from coming, I lose all control and blow all up my chest. It flies up and hits me in the face and even slips over the edge to fall away from us. My cock throbs as Billy keeps thrusting and then comes again inside me, his liquid heat passing through my body before he pulls himself out with a buzzing plop. He falls to his blue neon knees and starts licking my hole, sucking his own spoof from it and then running his tongue up my balls and over my sticky cock, up my rock-hard abs, and up my neck to kiss me and pass his semen into me again. I drink it back and kiss him hard, letting him pull me up so we can fall to the safety of the rooftop to gasp and relax together.

Billy smiles and turns off the neon suit he’s made.

“You didn’t make that for me,” I say.

Billy smiles. “You’re not the only one who wants to play cowboy.”

I kiss Billy again, and then say, “I love you.” It’s not the first time I’ve said it, and won’t be the last; hell, I don’t even know if Billy will be the last guy I ever say it to but after he does something like this, I can’t help it and it just falls out.

Billy looks at me for a long time after I say it. He brushes his fingers through his hair and looks at the darkened bar he works in. He looks at the dead neon lights wrapped around his body and at his own hands, entwined with mine. He looks at everything but me and I wonder if he’s ever going to say it back.

Finally, Billy looks at me again. His eyes are warm and full of hope, a little scared and a little excited. His mouth is half-open, he seems about to bite his lower lip and his breath is shallow but even. He smiles and the lights of the casino light up his skin a thousand different colors before he opens his mouth.