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2010-08-04 11:27 am (UTC)
Fill: Anything is Possible!
“Hey” said Jamie. “It’s Old Spice Man!” He punched the smarmy beefcake who’d pushed in between Adam and Jamie at the bar in the shoulder in a manly way. “Dude!”
“Hello, Jamie,” said Old Spice Man.
“Adam, this is Old Spice Man!” Jamie sounded weirdly excited. His mustache was twitching.
“Adam, look at me,” said the weird dude with the pecs, possibly trying to hypnotise Adam with his nipples.
Adam squinted at him suspiciously. It was hot in the bar but even so, kind of OTT to be wearing nothing but sprayed-on white pants and no shirt.
“Look at me,” said Old Spice Man. “Now look back at Jamie. Now back at me. Now back at Jamie again.” He stared at Adam meaningfully.
Was this dude for real? And what was with fucking Jamie? Instead of taking offence and going all narrow-eyed at this crap, he was beaming like this exhibitionist fucker was way cool and stripping off his shirt. What the fuck? Maybe the jackass had spiked his drink with roofies?
Jamie was bare-chested now, too, just a kerchief knotted around his neck. He stuck his rather hairier chest out. “Adam, look at me. Now look back at Old Spice Man. Now back at me.” Jamie raised his eyebrows meaningfully.
Adam backed off a pace, holding up his hands in a warding gesture. “Okay, I have no idea what you two are on but you’re freaking me the fuck out.”
Old Spice Man elbowed Jamie aside. “Look down, Adam.”
“Ah, wha-?” gulped Adam, trying
to look down. Those white pants left
to the imagination.
Jamie thrust Old Spice Man aside. “What’s in my hand, Adam?”
“Er, I think it’s a can of Bud, Jamie,”
“No, it’s two tickets to that thing you love,” said Jamie, inexplicably, then he grabbed Adam and, getting him in a headlock, thrust him nose-first into the Hyneman armpit.
“Argggh!” Adam thrashed, his curses muffled by manly-smelling flesh until he was summarily released.
“No Lady Scented Body Wash there!” declared Jamie with satisfaction, as Adam reeled.
A moment later, still utterly off-balance, Adam was grabbed again and crushed against the bronzed pectorals of Old Spice Man. “I’m the man your man could smell like,” crowed the insane fucker, mashing Adam’s nose into his sweaty, spicy-scented sternum.
It was too much. Adam gave up, deciding to just let the psychotic break happen and sort it out later. They dragged him out of the bar, raving about oysters and diamonds, and later there was a boat, and a horse – a horse? Adam was too busy to care at that point, nose-deep in Old Spice Man’s redolent groin while Jamie whipped his ass deliciously with a palm frond, shouting “Anything is possible!”
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