by BA Tortuga
“Always. And you? Lord, you just take my breath, sugar.” One finger touched his hole, still stretched from the night before. Max was working his slit on the other end, thumb pressing.
He rocked, quick, sharp motions moving between those hands. “Close. Max.”
“Come on, sugar.” Oh yeah, Max wanted it, wanted to pull it right out of him, lips and tongue working his neck, his chin. One of Max’s fingers pushed right inside him, right up in, just as Max tugged strongly at his cock, groaning for him.
That was all he could take, heat just pouring out of him, legs shaking with it.
“That’s it. That’s good.” Max kissed him before bringing his hand up to lick it clean, just humming. That was sexy as fuck.
“Mmm-hmm. Real good.” He leaned in, humming low. “Is it morning?”
“It is. You slept hard from about three on. It’s about eleven.” Max squeezed him before popping his ass. “Poe’s cooking.”
“Is that good?” He stood up, stretched, wandered to look out the window. Wow. This was in the middle of nowhere. Oh. Horses.
“Uh-huh. He went and got food, and is even now making Black Russian french toast.” Max watched him, leaning back on his elbows. “You like the view?”
“Yeah. There’s so much space. It’s like being on the boat.” He sat on the windowsill, soaking in the sun. “Are the horses yours?”
“Yep. Mostly Alan rides them, I guess. He’s the foreman. The one who takes care of shit when I’m gone. A fifty-year-old cowboy, and as cantankerous as they come.” Max padded over and sat behind him, leaning a little. “Do you ride?”
“I did when I was a kid. You know, little indoor ring, round and round. I bet it’s different out here.” He looked up. “I’ll have to be good here, huh? Keep my hands to myself outside the house.”
If Max’d never told anybody out of fear of getting that fine ass kicked, he needed to be extra careful. He wasn’t naturally discreet.
“Out there? No. In town, maybe yeah. A lot of folks know, but I don’t advertise.” Max smiled against the back of his neck. “I own most of the land for a good ways, though. No one to see us.”
“Mmm. I like that.” He reached up, stroking Max’s head. “You have something for me to wear?”
God, they were going to have to talk about money and things.
He was so not up for that.
“Yeah. I got stuff you can borrow, sugar. It’ll be big, but we can get you some duds later today.” He got a sweet kiss on the nape of his neck. “There’s some sweats here in the bureau.”
“You just want easy access.” He chuckled at himself. Like there was any easier access than naked.
“I want you any way I can get you.” Serious as a heart attack, those words, Max hugging him tight before getting up and getting them both some soft sweats. “Let’s go have some breakfast.”
“Okay.” He purred as he climbed into Max’s sweats, the fabric warm, good. And, conveniently enough, equipped with a drawstring.
“Sensualist.” Laughing, Max turned him in a silly little dance all the way down the hall. Until they were attacked by a furry cannonball.
“Oof.” He laughed as Max was molested by happy, drooling, and fuzzy. “Which one is that?”
“Goldie. She’s always first.” It was the blonde, the one Max had said was a golden retriever mix. “She’s nosy as hell.”
“She’s pretty.” He scratched behind her ears, getting an armful of wagging dog just panting all over him.
“She’s a lover.”
A swipe of another tongue came at his ear right before a cold nose pushed against his neck, a soft whine sounding. Max laughed out loud. “But it’s Lady who seems to be right taken with you.”
“Oh.” Oh man. That was…. Wow. He grinned, reaching for Lady and stroking her neck. “They didn’t take long to decide I was okay.”
“Nope. They know a good ’un. You gave pets and bacon.”
Breakfast smelled really good all of a sudden, making his stomach growl.
“You were supposed to feed me.” It hit him, sudden and deep, that this place was more foreign to him than Peru had been, that he was a stranger here. A tourist.
“I what?” Max grinned, pulling him to his feet. “I’m fixin’ to.”
Of course, he loved being a tourist, and doing it with Max had been the best time in his life. “Good.”
“Come on.” They made it all the way into the kitchen to find Poe sliding stuff onto plates, singing Carmen at the top of his lungs, wearing nothing but a pair of Hawaiian-patterned shorts.
“Oh, hey, good timing,” Poe said, waving a spatula.
Oh, excellent. Carmen. Orchids. Maple syrup. Very good.
“He’s armed with kitchen utensils, cowboy. Should I be terrified?”
“Hell, yes.” Max popped Poe on the ass as he went past, then came back with milk, orange juice, and coffee. The dogs made themselves at home, sitting right on Morgan’s feet.
It was vastly different than having his toes in a fur rug, with the breathing and cold noses on his toes, but it wasn’t bad at all.
“So, you want milk, sugar? Or coffee? Or what?” Max looked good, wandering around, getting cups and shit, just grinning at him, eyes dancing.
“Juice.” He couldn’t stop watching Max, admiring. So happy. The man looked so happy.
He got a glass of orange juice, a plate of food, Max popping a piece of sausage into his mouth. “Good, huh?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Oh. He was hungry. Really hungry. His stomach answered for him, snarling and growling long enough to make the dogs bark.
“Oh man, listen to that.” That came from Poe, who set some chocolate sauce and some maple syrup on the table.
Max just nodded, sitting next to him, feeding him another tidbit. Max had eyes only for him. It was wild.
“It’s good.” He slid closer, figuring Max would stop him if he got too close. He dipped some toast in chocolate, offered it to Max.
Maybe there was no such thing as too close, because Max took the nibble before pulling him over to sit on Max’s lap. When he looked up, Poe had disappeared.
“Everything okay?” He settled in, unwilling to lose his spot.
“Uh-huh.” Max fed him a piece of unreal french toast. Really good. “Everything’s fine. I think Poe wanted to be alone with his eggs.”
“Oh, good.” He nibbled on the ends of Max’s fingers, sucking them clean. “Tastes good.”
“So do you.” Max kissed him. “Everything tastes better on you.”
Meals were so much more entertaining with Max. He spread a bit of fudge over Max’s lips, smiled. “Good.”
Max licked it off, licked and sucked at his fingers. “God, you look good in my house. Did I say that, sugar? ’Cause you do.”
“Yeah? You look happy. Really happy.” It was weird. He hadn’t known Max looked stressed all the time until the man was home.
“Oh, sugar.” Max kissed the chocolate off his lips. “You sound like you think I haven’t been. You? You make me fucking happy, Morgan. You really do. This place is just…. It’s my safe place.”
He nodded, even though he really didn’t get it, not at all. “I’m glad you brought me.”
“Wasn’t coming home without you.” His back hit the table, dishes clattering down, the dogs stirring as they snapped up everything that fell. Max kissed him hard, bending him back, telling him all sorts of shit like want you and need you and gonna do you now.
Oh.
Oh, okay.
He moaned, bending easily, hips tilting.
“Uh. Yeah.” Max rose up over him, hips pressing between his thighs. Thick and hard through their sweats, Max just felt fine. Fine.
“Hungry.” Oh, they hadn’t fucked on a table before. Delicious.
“Want. I… oh, sugar, want you so bad.” Holding him up with one hand, Max scrabbled at their sweats with the other, getting him out, his cock against Max’s belly, Max’s against his thigh.
“Uh-huh.”
He couldn’t figure out when they went from easy to needy, but it must’ve been the right time for it. He spread, trusting in those hands to hold him.
They could do that, though, go from zero to sixty in no time. Ever since the first night they’d met, sitting and talking one minute, all over each other the next.
“Oh, Morgan. You sure? You’re not sore?” Max. So sweet, his Max. So good to him. There was a piece of french toast stuck to his back. Weird.
Great excuse to get back in the tub.
“In, cowboy. Fuck me.”
“Okay,” Max said, grinning madly, cock at Morgan’s hole. In, in, in.
Mmm. Sore, but a good, deep, fine sore. He shifted, fingers wrapping around Max’s upper arms.
Max started rocking him, the rhythm as old as time. The table squeaked, creaked, all in time with Max’s harsh breathing.
“Oh. Love. Max.” He grinned, hips bucking, that damned piece of french toast coming loose.
“Yeah, sugar. Yeah. I love it.” He didn’t have any idea where the toast landed, but he could hear the dogs snap it up as Max made love to him, muscles surging, just opening him up until he could hardly stand it.
His shoulders rolled up as Max hit his gland, eyes wide with the spark and pleasure. “There!”
Max hit it again and again, hips snapping, cock rubbing over his sweet spot until he saw stars.
He couldn’t even breathe, just ride it, calling out Max’s name over and over.
It didn’t take long after that, his body squeezing down on Max’s cock, making Max cry out, making that big body shudder. Max kissed him, taking his mouth by storm, tongue pushing in.
Oh yeah. Table sex was definitely on the list above back-seat sex and in-the-sand sex. He kissed Max right back, riding out his orgasm, just flying.
Max rested against him, panting, the shivers still working through every muscle. “Well. Breakfast went well,” Max said, laughing a little.
“Uh-huh. Delicious.” He had syrup in unmentionable places. “Your friend’s going to kill you.”
“Nah. He left a whole bunch of shit in the oven.”
Oh, smart man.
He chuckled, happy all through. “You have a lot of breakfasts end like this?”
“No. Poe just always makes too much.” Max touched his cheek, leaving a smear of hot fudge. “You need to eat, sugar. Your stomach is growling again.”
“I haven’t eaten in….” He blinked. “How long has it been? Since I left?”
“About two weeks. They had you on all sorts of tubes….” Max trailed off, face red, eyes snapping. His cowboy had a temper. No doubt about it. “Here, sit up here on the table, and I’ll get us bacon and sausage and toast.”
He caught Max’s hand, held on. “I’m sorry, cowboy. I’m really sorry.”
Fuck his father anyway.
Ew.
Or not.
“No. No, don’t you apologize. You didn’t do nothin’. You hear me?” Max used his hand to pull him close, hug him tight and hard, all that skin warm and good against him. “You’re just fine. Just fine.”
“I am. I’m here, and I’ll stay until I’m forced out, okay?” He couldn’t promise forever because his father would come. They both knew it.
“You just wait, sugar. You’ll see. You’ll stay until you’re ready to go. Not one minute before.”
He looked up, met those dark eyes, stomach feeling hard as stone. “That’ll be a long, long time, cowboy.”
“That suits me just fine.” Max kissed him, holding on tight, and he hoped they had all that time. He really, really did.
Too bad he wasn’t sure he believed it.
Chapter Nine
LEANING ON the fence, Max watched Morgan as that skinny ass wiggled and bounced. Morgan had started teaching Lady to catch a Frisbee about the fourth day he was there, after they’d gotten him clothes and a driver’s license. Being a heeler mix, Lady was good at it. Goldie? Not so much. So they had one dog bouncing all over like a champion gymnast, and the other flopping all over like a koi fish with legs.
It had Morgan laughing helplessly, running about to retrieve the Frisbee when Goldie got ahold of it.
Ruff, the boy dog, was more like Max. He preferred to sit and stare. Those were his ladies out there, showing off. Morgan was no lady, but Max sure did like to watch him.
Morgan took to living in the middle of nowhere better than Max had expected, exploring the stables and the house, crawling around with that curiosity that made traveling with the man fascinating.
Oh hell, who was he kidding? Everything about Morgan fascinated him.
“He sure is having fun, isn’t he?” said his foreman, Alan, coming to stand next to him.
Max glanced over, noting the gimme cap pulled way down low over Alan’s eyes. “He is. You heard something about his daddy, Alan? You need to share if you have.”
Alan spat in the dirt, making Ruff bark and dodge. “Heard there was a fancy private jet landed in Oklahoma City. Can’t be long now.”
Max nodded, fighting the urge to go gather Morgan up and hide the man. “Okay. Thanks.”
Morgan looked over, eyes suddenly hooded as they searched him, expressive face still. “Hey, Alan. How’re you?”
“Good. Good.” Alan grinned, pushing the hat back. He’d taken to Morgan right off, and if Poe, Alan, and the dogs approved, well, what more could a man ask? “How’s the training going, son?”
“Goldie is getting better every day, and Miss Lady is a star.” The dogs both heard their names and tackled Morgan, stealing the Frisbee to play tug-of-war with.
Max hooted, hopped the fence, and jogged out to give Morgan a hand up, dusting off that sweet little ass. “They’re so well-mannered.”
“They’re fabulous.” Morgan grinned, arm around his waist. “Everything okay, cowboy?”
“We need to talk, sugar.” He wanted to let Morgan know his daddy might be on the way but they weren’t gonna buckle under it. They walked back toward the house, Alan nodding and heading out.
“That’s never good, Max.”
“What? It could be.” Hell, it might be the best thing.
“Yeah? It could?” Morgan relaxed a little, leaned right into him. “Okay, tell me all.”
Max settled them on the swing on the porch, sitting close. “Alan says your daddy’s in Oklahoma City. He’s most like on his way here.”
“Oh.” Morgan sighed, lips going tight. “Okay. Okay, how far is that?”
“Maybe two hours.” He grinned. It was an hour and a half to Enid, and then another half hour out to nowhere.
“Okay.” Morgan took a deep breath, squeezed his hand. “So, do you want me to…? I mean, he won’t come alone. I could head toward LA.”
“No, sugar.” Morgan would understand it eventually if Max had to beat it into him. “We’ll let him in, and only him, and we’re gonna have a little talk with him.”
“We are? Have you met my father?”
“I have. I told you I had.” He’d been a piss-poor wildcatter then. He was a man to be reckoned with now, thanks to his own hard work and then to Morrie. He thought maybe Morgan just didn’t know that. Maybe Morgan didn’t need to. But Max knew.
“He’s going to bluster and threaten, then offer you a huge check, and then….” Morgan blinked. “Well, no one’s ever gotten past that part, so I don’t know, but it’s probably ugly.”
“Oh, sugar.” Max leaned over and took a kiss, just calming both of them. “Trust me. We’ll get past it.”
“Oh. Okay.” Morgan reached up, those fingers stroking his face. “Okay, cowboy.”
“So,” Max began, changing the subject, “what do you want for supper? Poe is going into town to whoop it up. I’m cooking.”
“I want….” Morgan stopped, took a deep breath, and sort of settled. “Let’s make meatballs. I love meatballs.”
“You okay?” He stroked Morgan’s belly, soothing, humming at the feel of it.
“Not all the way, but….” Morgan sighed
and looked at him. “You know that he’ll cut me off, yeah? I mean, I’m not worth anything without that trust fund.”
Max frowned. “Honey, you’ve got to stop thinking of your worth in money. We didn’t have nothin’, I’d still want you. And I told you about Morrie. I can’t imagine using all that, so we’ll be just fine.”
Morgan nodded. “I just wanted to make sure you knew. You deserve to know, yeah?”
“Okay. Okay, I can see that.” Max forced himself to relax. He just hated it when Morgan ran himself down. “Now I know. So what all do we need for meatballs?”
He got a grin, quick, mischievous. “Meat, cowboy. Hence the name.”
“Very funny, sugar.” That earned Morgan a quick pop to the butt, and earned Max a wriggle and a hot look. Damn.
“I can be funny more.” Morgan scooted closer.
“Funny ha-ha or funny some other way?” Yeah. He could handle some funny business. Max pulled Morgan even closer, lips against that long throat.
“Funny however it’ll get me more of you.” Morgan’s fingers brushed against his scalp, teasing his nerves.
“We still need to shave me.” He was getting downright fuzzy. Max nipped Morgan’s shoulder, right through his shirt.
“Mmm-hmm. Make you all smooth and slick.” Morgan purred, the actions a little frantic.
“Come on, sugar. Let’s go inside.” Lord knew he wanted Morgan too, and he understood. But just in case someone did show up….
“Inside is good.” Morgan stood, tugged his hand. “Your bed’s waiting.”
“It is.” Max linked his fingers with Morgan’s. “I’m thinking it’s more ours, though.”
“Oh.” Morgan’s steps stuttered a little, and then his hand got squeezed good and tight. Yeah, someone was hearing him.
“Good.” Laughing, he twirled, picked Morgan up for a football-style rush to the bedroom and the bed, then flopped down so hard they bounced.
Morgan gasped, eyes dancing for him. No contacts, not since they’d been home. He was loving it.
Max bent and kissed each cheek, just beneath those pretty eyes. “I love that, you know? Your eyes like that.”
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”