by Emilia Loft
It was okay for the most part, benefit of being so far out west was that there were precious few men pleasing enough to catch his eye. And he had his set up at home that was enough to keep the mothers from sending ‘round their daughters. But Christ Almighty this was looking like a tight spot. He dozed at one point, slumped against the window and dreamt in a sudden flash that he and the preacher were alone in the coach, mile after mile with the shades drawn and the steady rocking easing Evan in and out of the blue eyed Reverend beneath him. Catching soft moans with his mouth and then traveling down to scrape his lips against the dark stubble, licking a bead of sweat from the column of his throat. And that voice, fuck that sinful voice that shot straight to his cock pleading his name. Evan, Evan, Evan.
“Evan!” Meg kicked his shin and he shot up, almost reaching for his gun before he remembered where he was. He’d slouched down so far his legs were firmly tangled with the preacher’s, who was blushing hard and doing his best not to look Evan in the eye. “Sweet dreams, sheriff?”
“W-what?” It was none too graceful the way he tried to right himself and disengage his limbs from the other man’s.
“You were moaning in your sleep and we weren’t sure if it was the good kind or the bad kind but either way there are respectable people present.” Meg was smirking at him through her feigned indignation, like she knew exactly what kind it was and that was when he knew he had to get the hell out of this box for the rest of the trip.
Sunset they broke camp, Miss Meg insisting on putting up her own tent while Evan and Father Turner watched in amusement from the fire. Garth was scurrying around behind her, terrified to leave a lady to such work but even more terrified of the lady herself as she cursed him and threw sticks any time he tried get near enough to help. Evan pulled out his flask and took a long pull, handing it over to the preacher where he stretched out beside him. Father Turner was staring at him again, Evan noticed he did that, locked eyes and didn’t relent as if he was determined to work out what made him tick by look alone. It should be unnerving but the fire it lit in Evan’s belly matched up pretty nice with all the other ways this preacher made him hot. He watched the man take a long pull, throat bobbing tight and a single trail of amber liquid running from the corner of his mouth. He put the flask down and caught the bead with his thumb, dragging it up to suck the whiskey from the pad. Evan’s eyes caught all of it, transfixed, and he had to think fast when the preacher caught him staring.
“So I take it you don’t have too much against the sin of liquor?” His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
“Sinning makes us human Evan, everything in moderation.”
“I’d be mighty curious to see what other kinds of sinning you got up to then, Reverend.” This was dangerous ground, Evan damn well knew it. He was two inches from flirting, but shit he just couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was alright, he told himself, new preacher and all, no harm. Reverend Turner would just think he was poking fun, just the swaggering town sheriff trying to make friendly with his new neighbor.
“Casper.” He’s blushing again and just for a moment Evan allowed himself to imagine the preacher might be ok with a little flirting. “I like my friends to call me Casper. But I’d appreciate it if we kept it Reverend when inside the church.”
Evan reached over and took back the flask, letting his fingers brush just a little too long. “Don’t need to worry about that Cas, can’t remember the last time I found need to step inside a church.” He took a pull of his own and now it’s his turn to catch Reverend – Casper - staring.
That night he sleeps fitful, tossing on his bedroll and dreaming of Casper beating the shit out of a hundred, a thousand faceless thugs. Whirling like a dervish and then crashing into him, getting all tangled up, getting fingers into ribs and thighs fit tight into groins until everything has fallen away and it’s just rolling hot skin to slip against and wet mouths dark and twisting into each other. Filthy, sentient tongues lapping greedy and making all the decisions. Desperate voices begging for God when they really mean Cas, Evan. And when he wakes it’s with the blistering chafe of his erection rubbing against cotton and wool. Evan knows he was a heartbeat away from saying Casper’s name out loud, he can still taste it sharp on his tongue where it butts against his teeth. The sun is a ways yet from rising, but he hears it then, his own name whispered in the dark beside him. And it’s a terrible moment when he thinks he’s done it again, moaned in his sleep and telegraphed his dreams so that the preacher has the shameful task of rousing him. He’s almost sure that Cas would be able to see it somehow, pick out the exact image of his thoughts from his head. But the man is still asleep, tossing gently with a crease on his brow, saying it again, then again. Evan.
He shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn’t. But his hand doesn’t pay him any mind, reaching out across the space between them to hover, conflicted. He could count the heartbeats that fill his chest as he tries to talk himself out of it, hard insistent booms that echo don’t don’t don’t. It’s too late, thumb pressed gently to the high arch of Casper’s cheekbone, fingertips feather light along his jaw. He run his thumb softly along the skin, taking in the change in texture as it goes from clean to stubble, running back up then down again. He already hates himself for this stolen caress, he already wants more.
Just as his fingers begin to itch with the desire to grab, take, Casper moans and arches up into his touch, still asleep, and nearly undoes him when he murmurs out oh Evan. Evan rips his hand away and jumps up to flee into the dark.
And he’s an indecent man headed straight to Hell, never had a problem being honest with himself. Evan wants that man, wants him bad, and perhaps in some way, however small, Cas wants him too. It was thrilling and at the same time terrifying. They had a long road to Lawrence but that didn’t mean he had to give in, it wouldn’t be right. He could spend the days separate on his horse, exchange pleasant words in the company of their companions and keep it civil until he got the preacher safely tucked into the parish in Lawrence. He had to kill this before it grew; there wasn’t a single thing about his attraction that would end well for either of them. But a little dark corner of his mind had already made its choice. He was curious to see which one would win out by the time they all made it home.
2
Chapter 2
The spring mornings dawned gentle out here, soft with cool breezes and the whickering of the horses. Casper rolled over to see that Evan had already risen and was nowhere to be seen, just like every morning. The Sheriff didn’t seem to sleep much and he wondered if that was a condition of his profession. He ignored the familiar disappointment at another missed chance to see what the man’s face looked like asleep and peaceful in the watery dawn. He sighed into the wide open sky above him and prayed for clarity.
Casper had been under no such self-delusions that this new start out west would last. He didn’t mention it to Sheriff Parker when he’d replied to the adveParkerfor the post, but he had only ever intended to give himself a year in Lawrence. He’d traveled up and down the coast before, moved from parish to parish and had come to believe the Methodists might just have had the right idea all along. He’d always wondered at their insistence to move on after a few short years, but now he saw the benefit. Stay too long and they start to see past the pulpit to the man, see the ideals being taught might be hard to follow, might take some actual work beyond a clean dress on Sunday and singing oft repeated hymns. God’s work was dirty, backbreaking stuff and he’d found that most people occupying his pews didn’t have the stomach for it. For that he could blame them soundly for the disgust he felt after too long in their company.
But the other reason, the thoughts that whispered at night, he could blame no one for those but himself. Was it a sin of pride, that he contented himself with the belief that his piety would have always led him to the church? Perhaps, pride wasn’t new to him. Slothfulness, too, for the way he steadfastly found such self-examinations too much effort to endure. He would have been a pre
acher, he was sure of it, even if the bodies he imagined pressed to him in the dark had soft curves and sweet powdery perfumes. He did not want to think himself a coward, for a coward was not up to the tasks that he had set for himself and if that was gone, what did he have left?
Evan Parker. Why couldn’t he have been the maParkertured? An old, paunch bellied sheriff of a dust stained speck of a town. Slow witted and suspicious but easy enough to placate with Casper’s always impeccable manners. And maybe he had asked the sheriff to meet him at the docks because he knew what to expect, knew that the man would come all the way out here to collect him and wouldn’t likely turn him away, but that the sight of a scuffle might set the gears to turning. Ease the way once Casper gave his notice in twelve months’ time. What was he supposed to do with this golden idol, a devil’s deal made flesh to smile cocky at him and tease and turn him inside out with naked lust? The moment, the very beating moment he’d laid eyes on the man before he was sure of him, his mind shouted TEST, for surely this was nothing if not God tempting him directly with every one of his slippery desires.
You Parker? Of course he was. So spake God, so iParkerpass.
He nearly tore his hair out in the coach, how was he to endure weeks of this? But at least one of his prayers was answered when the man decided traveling outside on horseback was more to his taste. They’d been making slow steady progress for a week now. Casper knew everything superficial about his new companion Miss Meg and nothing of the real woman. She was clever and knew it and seemed to take some joy in confounding everyone with her motivations for what looked to be a marked step down in social standing. But she made him smile and he found her brusqueness refreshing. Evan on the other hand, Evan did not make him feel refreshed. Watching him made Casper’s skin feel tight, he wanted to reach out and pull away at the same moment. The man had such an easy assuredness and yet, at night when they stretched out beside each other next to the fire, Casper found a man conflicted, a good man that appeared wholly unaware of his own goodness, convinced of the opposite, in fact. It always made Casper feel a bit sad, talking to him in the dark, taking confession from a man too afraid to call it such. Every morning he woke hard and throbbing from dreams filled with green eyes and white teeth and calloused hands rooting out his secrets.
This morning was the same, and for once Casper agreed to give into his body’s pleas. But not here. They’d camped beside a stream and he followed it now into the trees. It was much cooler here in the shade, Casper found a quiet spot hidden from view and sunk to the ground, fumbling with his pants. He hissed at the shock of cold air as he pulled his aching cock from the confines of his trousers. He pulled a few long strokes along the length, squeezing his eyes shut at the pressure and letting his head fall back against the uneven bark behind him. It had been so long, this would be over quick but that was what he wanted, take the edge off before anyone knew he was missing. He didn’t reproach himself too much for the face he pictured now, he wasn’t so pious as that. Stupid gorgeous sheriffs with their rolling, bowlegged gate that suggested so much more. Summer green eyes that were hard then pleading then filled with playful mischief in turn. Damn it, damn it all and his…ahh… his…his…
Casper spent sticky and hot over his hand, prizing his eyes open as he breathed heavy. The creek gurgled a few paces away, and if he needed to wash he might as well bathe. Stripping down, Casper dashed into the frigid water, diving under and letting out a shocked hoot when he broke the surface.
“Cas?” He snapped his head around to the bend in the stream. Wading through the waist high water, came Evan, morning sun breaking gold across his skin, smile breaking beautiful across his face. Casper immediately ducked into the water, sinking to his neck to…what hide? He jumped up immediately at the cold. Evan laughed.
“No need to be modest, ain’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen.” Evan was getting closer, and it was only the combined efforts of the cold murky water and his recent release that allowed him to manage enough control over his body at the sight of the sheriff naked and dripping that he didn’t run for the safety of the trees.
“Good morning Evan, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not intrudin’, route we’re taking it’ll be another week yet before we stop at a proper town. Gotta get washed up where we can. Got some soap up there if you’d like.”
“Why yes, thank you.” Evan grinned and splashed his way back toward the bend. Casper really shouldn’t follow. It was…it would surely be a mistake, but his legs seemed to move on their own as the current played accomplice, tugging him around the bend in time to see Evan wading to the shallows and up to the shore. The water line slipped down him like a sheet, revealing in quick inches the strong muscled back, the round curve of his ass, thighs, calves. It was like one revelation after another, everything laid before him, Evan the lotus and the lotus-eater both, tempting oblivion. There was a bit of surprise when he turned and saw that Casper had followed him, but no modesty. In fact Evan just sauntered back, soap in hand and not a stitch on him but a playful smirk. Casper began to pray.
They took turns lathering and dunking in the creek, laughing when one of them would slip on the rocks, splashing about and teasing each other good-naturedly.
“Careful Cas! You’re like to get me accidentally baptized!” Casper frowned down at the current beneath them.
“Something tells me we’ll need more water than this to wash away all your transgressions.” Evan threw his head back, startling a few grouse to flight with his laughter.
“You’re probably right about that, also would be a shame to go to all that trouble when I’ll only get sinned up again in a week.” They settled into an amiable silence, now was a time if any to return to the shore, but neither of them seemed to want to be the one to end it. “You’re really gonna like Lawrence, Cas. We got a real pretty river out there, got a great spot for swimming I can show you. Fishing, too. And the folks there are all pretty decent, can’t say you’ll get everyone through your church doors, but they’ll treat you good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m afraid there is one issue that I see. I have no idea how to fish.” “What?” Evan slapped his forehead in pretend shock. “Your daddy never taught you to fish?”
Casper licked his lips and sighed, “I’m afraid he died when I was an infant. My mother sent me to a boarding school once I was old enough. They taught me Latin but very little about fishing.” Evan’s smile dissolved and Cas felt terrible about it, he didn’t ever want to be the cause of fading that brightness. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me Evan, I had a very good childhood considering. I liked the school my mother put me in, I excelled there. And I’ve seen more than a few parents who did their children no favors with their presence.” Evan’s not looking at him anymore, staring down the line of the creek at something Casper can’t see.
“Well you’re right about that.” And his voice trails along, and Casper knows his thoughts have drifted to his own parents. He can see there’s a story there but doesn’t feel that now’s the time to pry. The happy spell of earlier is gone and Casper shivers hard, giving them just the reason to drag themselves back to their respective patches of shore.
Garth has coffee on and breakfast well under way. Meg stalks up to them, annoyed.
“Took you two long enough! You’re not the only ones that need to wash, though you defiantly need it the most.” Evan just grins at her.
“Could’ve always joined us Miss Meg. I’m sure the preacher here could have washed your backside and kept your virtue intact.” She just snorted at him.
“The very last thing that’s a threat to my virtue is the two of you.”
Evan just tipped his hat at her, “Afraid it’s a bit cold out there, my apologies we couldn’t fit a lady’s bath in the coach.” Meg just turned up her nose and headed for the trees.
“Cold water never bothered me, just keep to the camp and make sure that idiot over there doesn’t burn the coffee.”
They didn’t have much to
say to each other as they took their breakfast by the fire, but their eyes caught and they both shared a laugh at Meg’s surprised shriek piercing the air.
* * *
Evan had planned the route back to be the same as the one they’d taken out here, straight a shot home as he could get while considering the needs of the coach. He hated being away so long, convinced the whole town would be razed and Sammy bleeding out in the town square from some band of marauders that he had been absent to prevent. He knew Sam was more than capable, Bobby, Rufus, even most of the women, he knew that, but it didn’t ever sit well when he was gone. He felt responsible for them all. So it never occurred to him that he might regret this decision.
They didn’t stop in a single location that might be called a town for those first two weeks, not that it would have been impossible, but Evan wanted none of the distractions that a general store and a saloon full of entertainment could provide, just miles under the wheels dawn to dusk. Casper offered no complaint and Garth, well hell Garth had never sat still long enough to know what it felt like not to be traveling most days, but Miss Meg, poor thing was near to biting anyone’s head off that got too near. Evan would have felt sorry for her if part of him also didn’t keep thinking serves you right. Most folks making such a trip could have reasonably expected some sort of respite in civilization from time to time, but Evan had to figure that anyone trekking half way across this country to be a rancher’s wife wouldn’t bat an eye at a little hard travel. She tried to hold her tongue, she really did, but it was clear this one wasn’t accustomed to suffering anything in silence for long, pride be damned.