Justin rolled over groggily in his bed. Out too late last night, and too much to drink. Still, when better to make bad decisions than while you’re young, right? He couldn’t even remember where he’d ended up. He rolled up and sat on the side of his bed, one hand collecting a cigar and his lighter from the nightstand, and he took a moment to get it lit, puffing gently, getting his first bit of morning smoke in his lungs. Much better–get rid of that fuzzy tongue and take the edge off his headache–once he takes a piss and eats something, he might feel mostly normal again. He stood up, and left a trail haze of smoke behind him as he walked to his bathroom, not really paying attention to the other person rolling awake in his bed.
He turned on the light, but it was too bright for his eyes. He pissed squinting, and managed to blink them open. He went to fill his glass for some water, say his arm, and nearly dropped his cigar in the sink. Tattoos. His entire arm and hand was covered in tattoos up to his shoulder. He didn’t have any tattoos–he fucking hated tattoos…didn’t he? As he stared at it, a memory came to him, something powerful–
The room was dark, mostly lit by the hallways and rooms next to it, the air thick with smoke. He didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Someone saw him, a burly guy, thick cigar wedged in his mouth, his arms coated with tattoos that looked like tendrils of smoke, with a flash of red around his wrist. Taking a closer look, it was the burning butt of a cigar, his hands also tattooed the texture of the brown leaf, and he felt himself drawn to him, drawn to his smoke.
They were making out, the man feeding him smoke, and as much as Justin didn’t want it, his body sucked it in deeply. He could feel…something wrapping around his arms and hands, something tingling. Breaking away, he gasped–seeing the tattoos unwinding from the man’s arms and winding their way around his instead, like they were alive, and he could feel the heat, but all he wanted was the man’s cigar. He took it from his mouth, and sucked the smoke in for himself, sucked it deep, so deep–
“Here you are,” a voice said behind him. Justin turned around and found himself face to face with the man he’d just remembered from the bar, except his arms were completely bare. “You really do smoke those things from dawn to dusk.”
He was trying to hold onto what he’d just seen, but it was fading like a nightmare, with just a residue of unease hanging over him. “Yeah…it’s…it’s a habit.”
“Well I think it’s sexy as fuck, especially on a young guy like you. No one your age smokes cigars like that.”
“Look…I must have had too much to drink last night. Did you…come home with me?”
The older bear nodded walking over and wrapping his arms around Justin’s body. His hairy arms felt strange against his smoother skin, the man quite a bit bigger than he was as well. Then again, Justin was smaller than most people, at five seven and 160 pounds, “Sure did, and we had quite the night. Too bad you don’t remember it. Guess that means I’ll have to give you some more to remember this morning.” The man leaned in and locked lips with him, sucking the smoke from his mouth–
They weren’t alone, people were watching, but they didn’t care. The tattoos burned, but he welcomed it, just like he was welcoming the smoke into his lungs, like a friend he hadn’t seen in years. The man shoved him down; he exhaled smoke all over his hard cock and balls, warming them, held the burning end close enough to singe hairs, feeling his shiver and spasm, and when he’d been edged to the point of heaving breaths, Justin turned him around and started blowing smoke up his ass, the bear moaning, begging him for his cock, and he slid it in, feeling the heat of his smoke and the heat of his body–
The bear was bent over the counter, Justin fucking him roughly. One tattooed arm was holding down his head while he groaned, the other holding his cigar. He took another deep breath, staring at himself, trying to remember what he’d been. Before he’d felt those tattoos snake around him…or had…had he gotten them himself? He fucking…fucking loved cigars. Couldn’t live without them. He took another deep suck of smoke, his cock close, thrust himself over the edge, and unloaded deep into the bear’s hole, both of them panting, the bathroom choked with smoke.
“F-Fuck…For a little guy, you sure don’t fuck around.”
Justin slid his cock out and stumbled back. “S-Sorry, I just, kind of lost it there…”
“I’m not complaining man, I love that shit,” the bear said, “Now, how about breakfast? My treat.”
They went out, but breakfast was an exercise in torture for Justin. Away from his cigars, the food tasting bland and uninteresting, when all he could think about was lighting up again. He made small talk as best he could, however, and managed to pry more information out of the guy–or Robin, as he eventually learned. Apparently, they’d hooked up at a bar downtown called Pigtown. It didn’t sound familiar to Justin at all, but Robin told him it was the best club in town.
“No rules man–anything goes. The health department doesn’t even know about it. The fuckin’ best.”
The best or not, Justin knew something strange had happened to him and Robin there the night before. He tried to tell him about his strange visions, but Robin found them boring. He tried to suggest they go back, but Robin had work on Sunday, so he couldn’t be out late.
“Every night at Pigtown is a late night, you know.” Robin said with a grin. “And I’ve had a few too many late nights there lately. Not even sure who I am anymore, you know?”
Justin didn’t. But he got directions from Robin, and when evening came, returned, chuffing his cigars the whole way, already thinking he’d been smoking for most of his life, and everyone there seemed to welcome him like a friend.
Bracken's Corner 