The Cowboy Poet

by Claire Thompson

  Clint was watching him with a dark, fierce gaze and Tyler could feel that the same quiet fire was burning in him as well. He ran his hand down Clint‘s stomach, moving along his thigh to the long, jagged scar, which he traced with two fingers, feeling the ridged flesh that marked the old injury and hid the damage done inside.

  Tyler moved his hand, tracing inward along Clint‘s thigh toward his groin. He closed his hand around Clint‘s cock, feeling it harden and lengthen in his grip. He felt his own cock respond in kind, but he wasn‘t focused on himself. Leaning down, he closed his mouth over the head, licking the drop of milky sweetness that appeared there. He sucked the length of the shaft into his mouth, lowering his head to take it all, then lifting again to let it almost, but not quite, fall from his lips.

  Clint moaned as Tyler continued, moving slowly down and back up again along the smooth flesh. After a time, Clint arched up with a shudder and then pushed Tyler gently but firmly away.

  He pressed Tyler back against the bed, so he was lying on his back as Clint had been a moment earlier. Clint rolled on top of him, his heaviness like a sensual blanket that both excited Tyler and made him feel safe, all at once. Clint kissed his mouth, his tongue moving as if searching for something as he caught a handful of Tyler‘s hair in one hand, gripping hard. Tyler groaned against Clint‘s mouth, the pull at his scalp a trigger that sent him fast and hard into a place that he both feared and desired.

  Clint slid off him, reaching with his other hand for Tyler‘s cock. His stroke was easy at first, his fingers moving lightly over Tyler‘s hardness. Tyler groaned again, lifting his hips, aching for more. Clint obliged, gripping the shaft with a surer hand, pulling upward and stroking downward, as he used his other hand to pull Tyler‘s head back by the hair.

  He broke off the kiss, though his hands remained at their tasks, making it hard for Tyler to focus on Clint‘s words. I want you, Ty. I wanted you from the moment I saw you. Somehow I‘m gonna reach you. I promise.

  Releasing Tyler‘s hair, Clint bent down, taking Tyler‘s cock into his mouth. Tyler groaned and shuddered, willing his body to slow down. Clint was relentless, sucking, licking and stroking his cock and balls.

  Oh, man, he finally cried. I‘m gonna—.

  Clint pulled abruptly back. Fuck me, he said, the words a command.

  Tyler‘s impending orgasm receded as he tried to process what he thought he‘d just heard. Clint was a top, a dominant, someone who did the fucking, not the other way around. Tyler was confused. He must have heard it wrong.

  As if privy to his thoughts, Clint said, I told you, Ty, it ain‘t about who‘s on top and who‘s on bottom. It ain‘t about one person exertin‘ his will over the other. Not everything‘s about control, okay? We‘re just two lovers who want to share ourselves with each other.

  Tyler nodded as Clint rolled onto his back, his erect shaft jutting upward. I want to feel you inside me, Ty. I want to give myself to you in that way. It makes me no less of a man. Tyler slowly nodded again, a glimmer of understanding penetrating the shame he‘d held around himself like a cloak for so long. He reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom and the lube.

  He slipped the condom over his shaft and squeezed some KY on his fingers. Lying down beside Clint, he gently massaged the lubricant into the tight passage, which eased against his fingers.

  That feels good, Clint murmured. He rolled to his knees and moved over Tyler, pressing him flat against the bed as he straddled his hips. He positioned himself over Tyler‘s cock, shifting until the head nestled at the cleft of his ass. Placing his hands on Tyler‘s shoulders, he eased himself slowly down.

  Tyler‘s cock slipped inside the hot, slick grip of Clint‘s ass. Clint continued to press down slowly, causing Tyler‘s cock to slide deeper. He kept his dark eyes fixed on Tyler‘s face as he began to move in a slow, sensual rhythm over him. It felt fantastic, the clutch of tight muscle massaging his engorged cock.

  He looked into Clint‘s face, catching his breath at the intensity and power of Clint‘s unwavering gaze. There was such raw tenderness there, such naked vulnerability. Tyler realized he always thought of men like Clint, men in control, as keeping a tight rein on any such emotion. He himself had struggled to keep a similar rein, thinking that to do otherwise was to be less of a man.

  Yet Clint was every inch a man, his courage and determination evident in everything he did. Even seeking Tyler out after Tyler had walked out—that hadn‘t, Tyler understood now, been an act of desperation, but one of love and compassion. He had reached out where a lesser man would have just turned his back.

  Clint, I… Tyler faltered, the words he longed to say hovering just beyond his grasp. Instead he managed, It feels so good…so good.

  As Clint rode Tyler, Tyler reached for Clint‘s erection, which was hard and warm against his fingers. Tyler experienced pleasure so intense he knew he wouldn‘t be able to last much longer. He managed to continue stroking Clint, even as a long shudder eddied its way through his body.

  That‘s it, Clint urged. Come for me, Ty.

  Tyler let go, allowing the cum to shoot through his loins, his cock milked by the tight ring of muscle as Clint lifted and lowered himself in a steady, perfect rhythm.

  Tyler tightened his grip on Clint‘s cock, pumping it only a few times before Clint groaned and jerked against him, the hot, silky ejaculate erupting and spilling down his fingers. Tyler felt the warm splatter of a few drops against his cheek, just beside his mouth. He tasted its salty sweetness with the tip of his tongue and smiled.

  Clint lifted himself from Tyler and fell beside him, pulling him into his arms. They lay quietly a while, tangled together as their heartbeats slowed and their breathing eased back to normal.

  I think I’m in love with you.

  The words reverberated again in Tyler‘s head in Clint‘s deep rasping voice, as if he were saying them aloud once again. Tyler had heard those words before. He‘d even uttered them himself once or twice, though he‘d never really believed them, not from the other guy or his own lips.

  But this felt different. Clint‘s words had shot past his brain, zinging like an arrow straight to his heart. Screwing up his courage, Tyler began, Clint, I think I… He hesitated, turning to face him.

  But Clint‘s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. Tyler watched him a long while, memorizing the curves and planes of his weather-beaten face, his heart actually aching with tenderness. Finally he finished the sentence, his voice little more than a whisper. …love you too. But Clint, fast asleep, didn‘t hear.

  Chapter 12

  They were lying in bed in an easy tangle of limbs as the first streaks of sunlight crept over the sill. Tyler lay quiet, fighting a silent battle in his head. He wanted to tell Clint. He longed to tell him, and yet he couldn‘t seem to muster the courage. He ached to whisper his secrets about the dark place in his head that made his heart beat too fast and his breath catch in his throat and his mouth run dry. To show Clint what was hidden in the bottom drawer of the nightstand that he‘d never shown another soul.

  Would Clint understand? Could anyone understand his need, a need so great he‘d allowed Wayne to do what he‘d done, though the shame of it haunted him still?

  What‘s got into you, Ty? You‘ve gone rigid as a board.

  I‘m sorry, Tyler said, pulling away from Clint‘s embrace. I thought you were sleeping too. Did I wake you?

  Nah. Just lyin‘ here thinkin‘ how good it feels to be with you.

  Tyler smiled in the half-light. Clint, he said quietly. There‘s something… He paused, his courage ebbing.

  What is it, Ty? What‘s goin‘ on in that head of yours?

  It‘s just. I was thinking… Again he paused.

  Go on, Clint urged gently.

  Well, remember last night you said that thing about our special kind of loving not being about abuse, but…

  That‘s right.

  But I, well…I need…I mean… Tyler let out an angry puff of breath. Clint had a
ssured him over and over that he could trust him—he was safe to say whatever was in his mind and heart, so why was this so hard?

  You‘ve got somethin‘ to say but you‘re scared to say it, Clint said, as usual honing right in on what was bothering Tyler.

  Yeah, he admitted. Something bad.

  Bad?

  Well, I mean, something about me. That I don‘t think you really understand. Something that might…change things.

  Clint pulled himself up against the headboard and faced Tyler with a solemn expression. Tyler, I can‘t think of anything at all about you that I might discover that would change how I feel about you. He reached out, touching Tyler‘s arm. Listen, I have an idea. Just tell me. Take a deep breath, open your mouth, and just let out whatever it is you got to say. You‘ll feel a whole lot better after, I promise.

  Clint was right. Either he trusted him or he didn‘t. This was his chance, for the first time in his life, to share what he had kept hidden from everyone, even himself in a way, for so long.

  Taking that suggested breath, Tyler rolled from the bed and knelt up on the floor beside it. He reached for the bottom drawer and pulled it open. He could feel Clint‘s eyes on him but he didn‘t look up.

  His heart bumping against his ribs, he pulled open the drawer, feeling toward the back for what he had never showed another soul—until now.

  It was a small black leather whip with a filigreed silver handle. The whip was about seven inches long, a small cat-o-nine tails with knotted ends, and the online catalog had described it as ideal for cock and ball torture.

  Cock and ball torture. Just the words sent a shiver of dark lust through Tyler‘s blood.

  Hoping his hand wasn‘t shaking, Tyler held the whip out to Clint, still not quite able to meet his eye. He could feel the flush of his embarrassment at war with the burn of his desire.

  Clint took the whip from his hand. Nice, he said, drawing out the word as he ran his fingers over the leather falls. You bought this for yourself?

  Tyler nodded, biting his lip.

  Anyone ever use it on you?

  Slowly Tyler shook his head. He wouldn‘t have dreamed of showing any of the casual pickups he brought back to the apartment from time to time what he had hidden in the back of his drawer.

  Why had he showed Clint? Now Clint would see how twisted he really was. It was one thing to make use of the crops and quirts already available in the tack rooms, and the rope that was handy on any ranch. But it was quite another thing to specifically go out and buy something like that. He wasn‘t merely submitting to another man‘s control. By purchasing the whip, he was admitting that he longed for the sensual pain he knew those knotted strands of leather could give him. And now Clint knew it too.

  Tell me what you want, Ty, Clint said softly. What do you want me to do with this whip?

  I want… Tyler‘s voice came out hoarse. He coughed and cleared his throat. Please God, let him understand, Tyler silently prayed. Could anyone understand this unnatural longing?

  Tell me.

  He‘d showed him the whip. Clint knew his secret now, so why hold back any longer? Clint would think what he thought. It was time to stand up and admit his deepest feelings, no matter what happened next. And so, Tyler said the words: Pain. I want you to hurt me, Clint. I want you to use this on me. I need it. His voice broke, I need it so damn bad.

  Hot tears sprang into his eyes, tears of shame, of longing, of relief. There. He had said it aloud. He needed to feel the pain. It wasn‘t just about submission and giving over control. He needed the pain. And he needed a man like Clint to give it to him.

  Clint reached for him, smudging away the tear that had slipped down his cheek. That‘s right, he said. You need the pain. And I need to give it to you. Ain‘t nothin‘ wrong with that, Ty. For you and me, it‘s as natural as breathing. It‘s a part of who we are. Don‘t feel no shame for that, Ty. Feel proud that you found the courage to tell me. Feel strong that you‘re goin‘ to lie down now and take my whip on your cock and balls. You‘re goin‘ to do it for me. You‘re goin‘ to do it for you. You‘re goin‘ to do it for us.

  Another tear slipped down Tyler‘s cheek, as gratitude flooded through him. Clint had understood. He hadn‘t winced with disgust or recoiled in horror. When Tyler finally met his eye, Clint was smiling at him, that slow, sexy smile that always made Tyler‘s cock hard.

  Get me some rope, Ty. And a pocketknife.

  Tyler nodded and stood, glad for something to do, something to ease the powerful tension that had built inside him. He went in search of the coil of clothesline he kept in a kitchen drawer. He retrieved his pocketknife along the way and returned to the bedroom.

  Clint slid from the bed and accepted the rope and knife from Tyler. Lie down on your back, arms and legs extended, he ordered, and Tyler obeyed, his heart booming in his chest.

  He watched in silent, intent anticipation as Clint cut the rope into lengths and moved around the bed, sliding the rope beneath the mattress. He brought it up at each corner, using the ends to loop Tyler‘s wrists and ankles in slip knots Tyler knew he could release at a moment‘s notice.

  Clint picked up the whip in one hand. With the other, he ran his fingers lightly over Tyler‘s outstretched arms, lightly squeezing Tyler‘s biceps. He let the tresses of the whip glide over Tyler‘s chest and abdomen. He moved the whip lower, the strands tickling at Tyler‘s cock and gliding over his balls. In spite of Tyler‘s fear and nervous anticipation, the touch of leather drew a violent shudder from him, and he swallowed hard, feeling almost faint with lust.

  Tell me again, Ty. I want to hear those words. What do you need?

  I… Tyler closed his eyes. I need you to hurt me. To whip me. Please, Sir.

  How many times had he fantasized of this moment, of being tied down to the bed with rope, spread eagle and at his faceless dominant lover‘s mercy? How many nights, drenched in loneliness, near despair, had he fallen asleep dreaming of this very thing? And now that lover had a face, and a name. Clint Darrow was offering him his deepest held secret fantasy, without censure, without judgment, without shame.

  It was happening. It was really happening.

  ~*~

  We‘ll start easy, Clint said, as he slid the leather over Tyler‘s thighs, teasing in a circle around his cock and balls without actually touching them. Tyler‘s eyes were fastened on the whip and again he licked his lips. Clint could feel his nervous anticipation, and beneath it the nearly desperate desire for what Clint was offering. But the guy was as skittish as a wild colt his first time under a saddle.

  He understood the courage it must have taken to say those words aloud. And the trust he‘d placed in Clint to say them. He sat beside Tyler and stroked his brow with a gentling touch.

  It‘s okay, Ty. You‘re safe. Somethin‘ tells me you‘ve been waitin‘ a long time for this, and you‘re ready now. It‘s time. And I‘m the man to take you where you need to go.

  Tyler nodded and relaxed some against the mattress. He reached for Tyler‘s balls, gently cupping them as he moved the knotted leather over his cock.

  Tyler closed his eyes.

  You want it, Ty? You ready?

  Eyes still closed, Tyler whispered, Yeah, his chest rising and falling as his breath quickened.

  Clint let go of Tyler‘s balls and flicked his wrist, delivering a light, steady rain of leather over Tyler‘s thighs, cock and balls. Tyler shuddered and gasped, his cock actually straining toward the leather stroke.

  Clint watched his face, saw the yearning and the raw desire there. Yes, Tyler was born for this, and Clint was born to give it to him. If pressed he wouldn‘t have been able to properly explain the sharp, focused thrill that taking someone like Tyler to the edge of their endurance gave him. All he knew was that, just like Tyler, this was exactly where he needed to be.

  He flicked the whip with more force, the knotted ends hitting their target with a whoosh of sound. Ah! Tyler cried, and Clint saw the small red marks the knots had left appearin
g on his rigid shaft. He struck lower, catching the sensitive skin of Tyler‘s scrotum. Tyler jerked hard at the ropes that bound his wrists and cried out again.

  Clint struck him again, and again, each blow as hard or harder than the last. His own cock was throbbing, his heart racing with excitement as he watched Tyler writhe and heard his sweet, breathy moans and cries. Tyler‘s cock and balls were reddening from the relentless, stinging kiss of knotted leather. A sheen of sweat had broken out over his skin, the tufts of blond hair beneath his arms darkening and curling.

  Clint varied the pace and intensity of the lashing, moving the whip in a dance of unpredictable strokes over Tyler‘s cock, balls and thighs. Tyler was panting now, his hips rising to meet each stroke, the tip of his cock shiny with pre-cum.

  Oh god, he cried, as Clint whipped him to a frenzy. Fuck!

  Cords were straining at his neck, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Clint hit him harder, drawing a long, low moan that was as much pleasure as pain. That‘s it, Clint urged. Do it. Come from the whipping. Show me how much you need this.

  Sudden, short bursts of pearly ejaculate shot over Tyler‘s stomach and chest. Clint lowered the whip, watching the passion play of his lover‘s orgasm, deeply moved to know he had taken him there.

  When Clint released him from the rope, Tyler scrambled up, pushing Clint back against the bed with surprising force. For a split second Clint thought he was going to hit him, but instead Tyler crouched between Clint‘s thighs, reaching with hands and mouth for Clint‘s cock.

  His attentions were nothing short of worship as he took Clint‘s shaft deep in his throat and then let it go, only to cover it with kisses and long, slow licks of his tongue. He was moving his lips between kisses, and to Clint it looked like he was praying. He focused on Tyler‘s mouth, trying to see what he was saying, because he heard no sound but his own groans of pleasure.