by Kate Roman
As they kissed, Matthew became bolder and needier, exploring Jake's mouth, tongue darting as if he couldn't decide what he needed to taste first or next. Eventually Jake rose, arms still tight around Matthew, and pulled him toward the high four-poster bed, releasing Matthew's mouth just long enough to pull the pink T-shirt up over his head. Matthew pushed Jake onto the soft, thick eiderdown, fingers trembling as he undid the buttons on Jake's shirt.
Jake rolled Matthew over and mouthed his neck wetly, eliciting a moan of pleasure. Matthew called Jake's name, and the thrill of the word on his lips sent an electric shock up Jake's spine. He could hardly believe that this beautiful, coltish blond was in his arms, holding him tightly, burning with a need that equaled Jake's own.
Jake reclaimed Matthew's mouth, the kisses harder now, hungrier. His hands slid down and under the waistband of Matthew's sweats, seeking the firm, hot skin there, and Matthew bucked into his touch. "Jake, please. Don't stop...."
Jake grinned. "Every time you say my name," he whispered in Matthew's ear, "I'm gonna kiss you." He followed up the statement with a demonstration, and Matthew wriggled happily beneath him.
Jake took his time.
He ran his palms slowly over every inch of Matthew's skin, touching everywhere, watching his eyes carefully. Loving the way Matthew arched up into his touch, knowing he was getting it right, that what they were doing was perfect. Jake smoothed and stroked every inch of Matthew's body, listening to his breathing and savoring each response, until Matthew was writhing with need, out of his mind with desire.
"Jake," he whispered. "Please...."
Jake grinned, tangling his fingers in Matthew's soft blond hair, and kissed him in answer. Matthew moaned into the kiss, aligning his hips with Jake's, bucking a little. Jake slid a hand down between them, letting his fingertips play along Matthew's shaft, exploring the smooth, taut skin before drifting down to cup Matthew's heavy balls, thumb rubbing lazily. Matthew captured Jake's lower lip between his teeth, tugging gently, and Jake moved his fingers lower, exploring the lightly fuzzed cleft between Matthew's cheeks.
"Want you so much. Please." Matthew pushed against Jake's body, a light sheen of sweat covering his golden skin.
Jake kissed him again, worrying his lips gently. "You got it." He paused for a second, but before he could speak, Matthew rolled out from under him and walked confidently across the room to his suitcase, returning with lube and a condom. He bounced back up onto the bed as Jake opened the foil packet, and as Jake unrolled the rubber, fitting it to his cock, Matthew explored Jake's torso with mouth and hands, urgently licking and kissing, pinching and stroking.
"Distracting, baby," Jake whispered, leaning over to nip at Matthew's neck.
Matthew beamed and contented himself with running his hands over Jake's darkly furred stomach as Jake slid the condom home. Slicking two fingers with lube, Jake nuzzled Matthew over onto his back, pushing his thighs apart with one knee. "Need you right now."
"Please," Matthew whispered. "Oh please."
Jake looked up sharply and kissed Matthew's smiling lips. He slid his hand down between Matthew's legs, one finger finding Matthew's hot, tight hole. They both groaned as he pushed inside, working the ring of muscle gently. Matthew clung to Jake's shoulders, spreading his legs wider. A wordless cry of pleasure escaped his lips and he stared into Jake's eyes wonderingly. Jake kissed him again, parting his lips as he added a second finger to the first, working Matthew's entrance more firmly. Matthew bucked against him needily, fucking himself on Jake's fingers, eyes never leaving Jake's. "Please," he whispered. "Now."
Jake grinned down at him, stealing another kiss. "You got it."
Pushing himself up, Jake knelt between Matthew's spread thighs, leaning forward to rest one hand against the coverlet. With the other, he gripped the base of his cock, the tip nudging Matthew's willing hole. He pushed against the ring as Matthew groaned, hands fisting the quilt beneath them. "Jake, yes! Yes!"
Jake felt Matthew open to him and with one long, smooth stroke, he drove his cock home, fetching up against Matthew's hips with a soft growl.
Matthew arched against him with a cry, hands scrabbling for purchase on Jake's sweat-slicked skin. Jake watched Matthew hungrily, desperate for what he was feeling to be acknowledged, reciprocated.
He wasn't disappointed.
Matthew's arms slid around him, holding him tight. Desire lit Matthew's eyes as he thrust urgently, his heat and need fulfilling Jake, setting him alight.
Every time Matthew called Jake's name, Jake kissed him, true to his word, mouth darting from neck to collarbone, ear to cheek. Wrapping Matthew tightly in his arms, Jake kept his strokes long and slow. The slick, tight heat of Matthew's ass around his cock was incredible, but more than that, Jake felt whole. Matthew wanted him, needed him; he felt it in every nuance of their connection, and it was overwhelming. Pleasure built deep inside him and spread faster than a wildfire, until it was all Jake could do to hang on tight, murmuring Matthew's name again and again as each stroke pushed him closer to the edge.
Matthew stared at him, wide-eyed with desire as their rhythm grew fiercer, until finally Matthew closed his eyes and arched with a shout, his ass milking Jake's cock as he came, wet and hot against Jake's belly. Then the fire inside Jake burned out of control, and he let his head drop forward onto Matthew's chest as flickering tongues of pleasure rocked them both. He rubbed his temple against Matthew's jaw, growling softly.
Neither of them made a move to disentangle, or even loosen their grip. Instead, they lay and stared at each other happily, Jake's softening cock still buried deep inside Matthew. Jake shifted, feeling it slip a little.
"Don't move," Matthew whispered. "Stay in me."
Jake tightened his grip, kissing Matthew's chin softly. "Relax, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
Matthew sighed contentedly, eyes drifting closed. "Say it again."
"Relax?"
Matthew smiled against Jake's forehead. "No. Call me that again."
"What, 'baby'?" Jake giggled against Matthew's jaw. "I'll call you whatever you want," he murmured. "That was amazing."
"I know I promised to behave, but -- "
"Baby, you did behave." Jake kissed him again, lightly. "That was perfect. Perfect."
Matthew nuzzled Jake's jaw, rasping their stubble-pricked cheeks together playfully. Jake grinned, enjoying the game.
After a few seconds, Matthew stopped, and Jake looked back into his eyes. "Jake...."
Jake kissed him again, light and sweet, drowsing softly. "Hmm?"
"It's never been like that before."
Jake's eyes flew open and he found himself staring into Matthew's open eyes, eyes full of wonder and appreciation. "It's supposed to be like that every time."
Matthew closed his eyes, and Jake kissed each eyelid, feeling Matthew smile as he did so.
Jake held Matthew close, stroking his back, until Matthew's breathing became deep and easy. He didn't stir as Jake pulled away, slipping out of the bed and into the night.
Jake walked the lonely dark road back to his tiny foreman's cottage with a conflicted heart.
---
The next morning, Jake rose with the sun, just like it was any other day. As if his whole world hadn't changed the night before. As if he could follow Kelly's instructions and stay the hell away from the film crew, as if he could stay away from Matthew.
He had to stay away from Matthew. Jake gripped the edges of the bathroom sink firmly, shaking his head. What the hell had he been thinking? The guy was a porn star! He had a string of different men every day, lived a glamorous Hollywood life, and didn't need a scruffy, lovelorn cowboy trailing after him.
Jake smeared a clear space in the steam coating the mirror. He had no illusions. Life in the outdoors, working hard every day, rain or shine, had left its mark. The tan and the lines were both permanent, he suspected, despite not even being thirty-five. Still, with thick dark hair and blue eyes he considered himself presentable at least and -
-
Jake grimaced and strode out of the bathroom, headed for the tiny cottage kitchen. Despite how right Matthew had felt in his arms, how perfect their connection, Matthew was a movie star. One who had sex with other men -- lots of other men -- for money. End of story.
Filling a thermos with thick black coffee, Jake grabbed his hat off the counter and pulled on his boots, determined to forget about Matthew Dove if it was the last thing he did. There was plenty to do around the Lazy R if a man needed to lose himself in work.
It was already light when Jake headed for the stable, the pale blue sky stained pink at the rocky line of the horizon, as if the mountains had torn it wide open. Jake tried not to take it as an omen. He approached Kilgawain's stall confidently, despite knowing the stallion's temper.
Broken in at two, the horse had gone unworked and unridden for several years, until Kelly had bought him at auction and, with the help of three other people, managed to bring him back to the Lazy R. When one after another of the hands refused to work him, Jake stepped in. Their temperaments suited each other. Kilgawain was a top breeding prospect, with excellent bloodlines and great conformation. Once the horse was ready to prove his manners and performance in the show ring, his stud fee would be a great asset to the Lazy R's income.
If the damn horse didn't manage to kill someone first.
Jake called softly to Kilgawain, the lead rope coiled loosely in his hand. The stallion snorted with a sound like a gunshot, and kicked the door of his stall. Fine, Jake thought. Have it your way.
Thirty minutes later, Jake latched the gate of the paddock behind him, Kilgawain stamping and huffing at his retreating back. Half an hour with that horse was more work than most men got done in a morning. Jake figured he'd leave the big guy to stew for a couple hours while he checked in on the hands and knocked off some of his other chores. Kilgawain needed to get accustomed to the sounds and smells of the ranch, the hum of activity around him, before Jake returned to begin their real work.
Carl Tanner, one of the Lazy R's two remaining hands, sauntered up just as Jake got the gate latched. "Helluva beast, Jake. After what he did to Elroy, I'm surprised he ain't headed for the dog food factory."
Jake frowned. "Take it easy, Carl. Elroy wasn't being smart. I never bridle this horse 'less he's cross-tied. You can't expect a horse like this to turn into a well-mannered filly just because it would make your life easier."
Carl shook his head and spat. "Still. It ain't right. Just like them movie queers. Ain't right, I say."
Jake looked at his ranch hand narrowly. "Don't you have someplace to be? How those yearlings doing?"
They talked stock and the day-to-day business of the ranch, and Jake gave Carl a list of jobs that would keep him and Boots busy until day's end and, more importantly, far from the main area of the ranch. Jake was sure that Carl's feelings on the film production were echoed by his fellow hand. It only made sense to keep the two groups as far from each other as possible.
The sun was high over the mountaintops by the time Jake headed back toward the stables, aiming to retrieve the wire cutters from the tack room. There was a fence needing some attention in the back pasture, well away from the barnyard. Far away from the movie, and Matthew.
What he found when he arrived at the barn drove all thoughts of fence-mending from his head.
The ground floor was swarming with people, and the horses whickered anxiously in their stalls, unused to the commotion. Huge freestanding spotlights were trained on a pile of hay bales with a blanket on top, and several cameras pointed at the area. Electrical cables lay on the ground like snakes sunning on a rock, and crew members moved purposefully, calling to one another as they went, checking the cameras, moving the lights, holding up giant pieces of silver cardboard in various configurations.
In all the commotion, no one registered Jake's presence as anything more than another piece of the set. Jake ducked between the huge lights and went stall to stall, calming and soothing each animal as he went.
The tack room was at the head of the second set of stalls, and Jake spent a few minutes searching the crowded shelves for the tool he wanted. Finally, he emerged from the small room and stopped dead in his tracks.
A group of people now stood around two very naked men on top of the hay bales. Jake couldn't help staring. Byron stood in all his diminutive glory with one foot up on a hay bale, thrusting hard into the ass of a slender young man, who was crying aloud with every stroke. As Jake watched, Byron threw his head back, groaning hard and long as his partner resettled on the blanket. Byron grasped his partner's hips and began thrusting fast and strong, setting a furious pace. The young man beneath him clutched the rough wool and moaned.
The onlookers looked bored, as if this sort of thing happened every day. Which, Jake supposed, it did. Jake tried to edge quietly around the knot of people, eyes on the ground.
"Cut! Cut! Who the fuck is that guy? Hey you!"
A balding man in thick black-rimmed glasses was staring at him angrily, arms spread wide. "Hello! We're filming here? In case you didn't notice? Ugh!" The director threw up his hands. "Save me from local talent trying to catch a fucking break."
Jake cleared his throat. "I work for the ranch. I just came by to check on the horses and pick up some equipment from the tack room."
"The what?"
"Tack room. Where we keep all the leather things."
"Whatever. Get off the set."
Jake had no argument with that. He had zero desire to stay.
Atop the hay bales, Byron and his co-star were following the interaction closely while lazily continuing to fuck. The director turned back to them and flapped his hands encouragingly. "Keep going, guys! Keep going! Byron, baby, you're looking wonderful. Ride it out."
Jake headed for the open door, the heat from the lights and the smells of sweat and sex disorienting and bizarre. He was three steps from freedom when he heard the director call out, "Okay, Byron, pull it out and finish up nice and strong for the close-up. Dove! Get ready. You're up next."
Jake stopped in his tracks. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Matthew, dressed in a short orange robe and Byron's ridiculous boots, gazing unemotionally toward the scene on the hay bales. Matthew stirred, as if feeling Jake's gaze on him, and met Jake's eyes across the barn. Jake's throat suddenly felt dry and tight. Last night, Jake had thought the two of them together were special, but in the harsh, cold light of day, it was obvious he'd been just another job to Matthew. Just another body.
Matthew looked at him sorrowfully, eyes filled with apology.
Jake turned and fled. As he emerged from the chaos of the stables, gritting his teeth against the dust, more bad news awaited him: Byron's shining, oversized Hummer was parked behind Jake's battered old truck, blocking him in. Fixing the fence in the back pasture would have to wait.
Jake looked around him wildly. Matthew was on the other side of the wall, bare yards away, even now approaching the hay bales, and the thought of working nearby, hearing the sounds.... Jake spun and strode angrily across the yard. A gleam of gold in the harsh sunlight caught his eye, and the answer came to him. Kilgawain.
As Jake approached his paddock the stallion stomped and snorted, shaking his dark mane in irritation. Jake shook his head. He and the damn horse deserved each other. Just a couple of easily spooked, easily riled fools.
Jake felt a twinge of guilt for letting his emotions get the better of him. It wasn't the stallion's fault the morning had gone so badly. What had he told Carl that morning? "You can't expect a horse like this to turn into a well-mannered filly just because it would make your life easier."
Matthew slept with other men. He'd made a career of it, and no matter how much Jake wished things were different, he couldn't expect Matthew to change for him. He couldn't make a one-night stand into something it wasn't. Life wasn't easy.
The wide, merciless sky bore down on him, and Jake swore, loudly and at nothing in particular. Kilgawain shied away with a snort. Fuck this,
Jake thought. There's work to be done. Honest work, done fully clothed.
That thought brought back the scene in the stables, the haunted look in Matthew's eyes, and Jake saw red. Grabbing his saddle off the fence, he slung it onto the big stallion's back, taking none of his usual care not to spook the fiery horse. In moments, he had swung himself to Kilgawain's back and turned him for the trail.
Kilgawain bucked and snorted, surprised and unsettled that the steady hand he was used to, so far from easing his rage, now encouraged it. Bending low over his neck, Jake spurred him on, and the big horse leapt away at a gallop.
With every stride, Jake could feel the stallion's speed and strength, the ripple of muscles under the golden hide as Kilgawain flew up the trail, carrying them both away from the barnyard and into the sweet, wild country.
The fence repair went smoothly. The barbed wire stung his palms even through the thick leather gloves and Jake welcomed the pain, embracing it, hoping it would eventually distract him from the pain he felt inside. Matthew's eyes, wide with fear and apology, stung him to the core. He'd thought last night that their connection had been real. That it had been true.
With a final twang, the fence snapped back into place, the rows of metal wire harsh and unyielding against the pasture. Jake glared angrily at the tree line, hard-bitten firs and pines digging into the rocky soil, taking a stand against Montana's notoriously harsh weather. The view, usually soothing and conciliatory, today did nothing to improve his mood.
His temper communicated itself to the stallion and Kilgawain shied and sidled as they headed down the trail toward home. Jake started to regret the impulse that had led him to ride the half-broken horse to the back of the ranch. They were still a mile out when his misgivings were proved right. Kilgawain, startled by a pheasant rocketing out from the nearby brush, dropped his head between his knees and started to buck in earnest.
Taken by surprise, Jake struggled unsuccessfully to regain his seat. The packed dirt of the trail caught his hip bone hard as he fell, and he scrambled, cursing, to his feet. Kilgawain's flying heels were all he could see as the horse fled at a gallop toward home.