by JD Ruskin
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Didn’t they give you anything for that?”
“They wanted to. I don’t like to take stuff.” He raised his head slightly and looked at me. “Why don’t you come up here so I don’t have to move.”
“Sure.” I sat down next to him, looking at his face. His left hand, resting on his stomach, was wrapped up so it looked three times normal size.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be. It looked worse than it was. I was lucky. Missed the bone.”
He looked at me like he was worried and put his good hand on my knee. It felt good. “I didn’t scare you too bad, did I?”
His question surprised me and made me uncomfortable. Why was he making this about me?
“How many stitches did it take?”
“A bunch. But this big bandage can come off in a couple of days. I’m going to be fine. Did I scare you?”
“What do you mean? You had an accident. Stuff like that happens on ranches. You deal with what you find.”
“And you did a good job dealing.” Dane sighed. “Josh, look at me.”
I made myself do it.
“I would have been scared if I’d run in that barn, seen you all bloody, and heard you talking nonsense.”
“It wasn’t nonsense.”
“I’ve got PTSD.”
“I know. Post traumatic stress disorder, from the wars. Lots of guys have it. Jesse had it.”
“I’ve got a pretty bad case.”
“I can deal with it.”
“You think?”
“I don’t have to have been there to be able to have some sympathy, you know. And you can go talk to people about it and take drugs.”
Almost before I’d finished, he spoke in a steely sharp voice. “I don’t want to talk to people or take drugs.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t get upset, okay? Wrong thing to say. I won’t say it again.”
He had turned his head away from me. I knew he was angry, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to jump up and run back to my house, but the hand still gripping my knee was holding me down. I put my hand on his. His was cold.
“Come on, let’s get you inside. You’re going to freeze.”
He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.
“I killed a lot of people.”
I didn’t answer right away, searching for the right thing to say. “I think that’s the point.”
He grimaced. “Some of them were women and children.”
“That happens.” I wanted to reassure him, to make him understand I was okay with whatever he’d done.
“I might have been able to do something different.”
“You can’t change the past.”
His eyes flew open.
“Fuck you, cowboy.” Dane’s chest heaved with breaths that came fast and loud, and he shook my hand off his like he didn’t want anything to do with me. “You think that up all by yourself? Maybe you should go into counseling.”
I knew something about counseling. The day my parents died, I’d been mad at my mom. When I learned about the accident, I stopped talking. I didn’t talk for weeks. Aunt Kate was so worried she took me to a counselor. I didn’t talk there either, and she finally stopped taking me. But I’d listened some, and I did start talking again later on my own. And I made it a point to never get mad at anybody again.
Without thinking, I put my hand on Dane’s chest and began to rub it in circles like my mom used to, slowly expanding the area until I’d touched everything from his collarbone to his belt buckle. His breathing slowed down.
“It was a stupid thing to say. I do that a lot around you. I’m sorry.”
He clenched his eyes shut and covered his face with his good arm. He shuddered, drawing in hard breaths. “It’s not you, cowboy. It’s… not you.”
I rubbed his chest again for a few minutes. “Let’s go inside now, okay? You’re cold.”
He let me help him into the living room, and he lay down on the couch. I grabbed the afghan draped across the back and covered him up, tucking it in around his shoulders, sides, and feet.
“Thanks, mom.”
“I don’t want to be your mom.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.” I stared hard and long into his eyes, till he shut them.
I sat down on the coffee table and watched him till he fell asleep. Then I slipped out the door and went back to my house.
DANE WAS in Jesse’s kitchen trying to make coffee one-handed when I walked in. He’d already spilled water on the counter and was having trouble with the coffee can.
“How about I make us breakfast?” I tried real hard to make sure it didn’t sound like I thought he was crippled or incapable.
“I can do it.” He concentrated harder on working the can opener.
“I know you can, but I’m a better cook.” I put on my most charming smile.
He was scowling when he looked up, but the smile must have been right.
“That’s a good idea, cowboy. I’ll just sit down and wait.”
“You can set the table. What you want?”
“An omelet?”
“Coming up.”
He sat down and I went to work. Got the coffee going and started chopping onions, peppers, and cheese. Gave him a cup of coffee and put the bacon and the timer on.
The silence was comfortable. I’d just poured the chopped ingredients onto the eggs when I felt him behind me.
“Smells good,” Dane whispered. His breath tickled my neck.
“Me or the bacon?”
He swatted my ass with his good hand. “Wiseass.”
“Sore ass now.”
“Poor baby.” He began to rub my butt. My cock hardened. “Better?”
I groaned. He rested his bandaged hand on my hip and slid his good one around to palm me.
“Much better now, aren’t you, cowboy?”
Oh yeah. I turned my face toward his and bumped into his lips. Like that, his tongue was in my mouth exploring. He tasted so good. I wanted to turn into him, but he held me in place. He finished the kiss with a light brush of his lips across mine.
“Don’t want you to burn my breakfast. I’ll just sit down now and wait.”
I kept my back to him, trying to tamp down my desire and frustration as I folded the omelet.
“You’re just a tease, is that it?”
He chuckled. “That wasn’t a tease, it was a taste.”
My heart sped up, and my brain froze. Images from my daydreams—Dane fucking me, me sucking him half-crazy, sweat and cum and groans—flashed through my mind. And the timer went off.
The omelets and the bacon were done. Hard or not, I had to turn around and serve them. My face was hot. I didn’t look up as I crossed to the table and slid his onto his plate.
He rubbed my ass again. “You look real cute, cowboy.”
“Cute. Jeez.”
He ignored me and dug into his omelet.
“Without a doubt, this is one of the best I’ve ever had,” he said between bites.
“Ass or omelet?”
He laughed outright then, and shot me a come-on look.
“We’ll just have to see about the first, won’t we?”
“Talk, talk.” I slid into my seat and started to eat.
“Cowboy, you are going to be one sorry ass when this bandage comes off my hand.”
“Promises, promises.”
I pushed a piece of bacon in my mouth. When I chanced a look at him, he was staring at me, a look full of want. He pointed his fork at me.
“Promise,” he said.
I knew the grin on my face looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I’d just won something important, even if I wasn’t sure what. “So how is your hand feeling?”
“Is that you being eager or trying to change the subject?”
I smiled, took a bite of omelet, and made a motion about my mouth being full. He grinned and shook his
head.
“It doesn’t hurt too bad right now.” Then he changed the subject. “So what are you doing today?”
“Trail ride, then a trip to the feed store in Livingston. Did Jesse say what he was up to?”
“Going to go check that fence line again, then head out to some auction. I might go along.”
“Crap. With everything last night, I forgot. I found beer cans by the fence line.”
Dane was instantly totally serious. “How many?”
“Four.”
“No telling how many guys that might mean. I’ll call him right now.” He disappeared up the stairs to his room.
I KNEW I was cursed the minute I heard the voice behind me outside the feed store.
“So, Brooks, how you doing with that mustang?” Ray Hanson sneered.
I concentrated on loading the feed I’d just bought into my truck.
“Good, Ray. Things are good.” I didn’t turn around, hoping he’d move on. He didn’t.
“Then I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon and see.”
“Sorry, Ray, I don’t have time. Trail rides and all, you know.”
“No bother. I’ll just look him over. Be there around five.”
He was moving toward his truck when I turned around to protest.
“Ray. Can’t do it.”
“Five,” he yelled. He climbed into his truck and took off, his tires spitting gravel.
All the way home, I worried about what to do. I could already hear what Jesse would say, and I didn’t want to, especially in front of Dane. Maybe Hanson was just playing with me. Yeah, that was it.
WHEN HANSON didn’t show up at five or six the next day, I decided I’d been right. I turned Hurricane out into the corral and got my saddle out. He tossed his head when I put it on the ground next to him. He was definitely ready to go.
I rubbed his neck and forehead. “Today we’ll take that long ride I promised.”
I didn’t even turn around right away when the truck pulled up. I figured it was Jesse or Dane.
“What you doing there, Brooks?” a voice called out.
It was Hanson’s foreman, Mel Evans, with Hanson right beside him, walking toward the corral. My gut dropped into my boots.
“You got a saddle on that gelding.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement from Hanson.
The two of them had reached the fence across the corral from Hurricane and me. Hanson looked angry. Evans looked like he was ready to fight. He always looked that way. Rumor was, he’d served time in prison.
“Nope.” I hoped my lie was convincing. I was never much good at it.
“But you got far enough to try?” Hanson asked, draping his arms on the top of the fence. He didn’t look happy.
“Nope. Not making much progress at all, Ray. Sorry you wasted the trip.”
As I walked through the corral toward them, Hurricane moved back closer to the barn. He remembered Hanson.
“You’re lying, Brooks,” Evans said.
“Nope.” I climbed the fence and dropped down within five feet of him, hoping it was a scary enough maneuver.
“Boys, let’s be peaceable. And Melvin,” Hanson said slowly, “shut up.” Evans grimaced and Hanson gave me a nod. But something in his eyes said he wasn’t really interested in being peaceable.
“So, Brooks, show me what he can do.” It wasn’t a request.
“You’re seeing it, Ray. He stands on the far side of the corral when I try to do anything.”
“Put him through his paces, Josh.”
“No paces to show, Ray.”
Clearly Hanson didn’t believe me. He whistled and darned if Hurricane didn’t choose that moment to trot round the corral, still making sure to stay clear of Hanson. Showoff.
“I’d say you are making progress, Brooks.”
“And you were lying,” Evans snapped.
Hanson cut him off. “What else can the horse do?”
The butterflies in my stomach morphed into 747s. “That’s it.”
“How’d you do it?” Hanson asked. Both men took a step toward me.
“Josh, where the hell you been?”
I turned to see Jesse striding my way. He didn’t look happy.
“Aunt Kate needs you in the kitchen,” he said. It sounded like an order.
“Hey,” I said, but Jesse ignored me.
“What brings you out here, Ray?” my brother asked.
He had stopped close enough that we all made a triangle now, me the point on top and Jesse facing off against Hanson and Evans across the bottom.
“Came out to see how Josh was doing with that horse he bought from me. You know, just two horse trainers comparing methods,” Hanson replied. His tone was conversational but not friendly.
“Not much to show,” Jesse said. “Right, Josh?”
“Right.”
“And like I said,” Jesse continued, “Aunt Kate needs Josh’s help in the kitchen.” He looked Hanson in the eye. “Sorry you came out here for nothing, Ray.”
“Wasn’t for nothing,” Hanson said. “Thanks for the show, Josh. We’ll be taking off.”
“Yeah,” Evans said, “so you can go be kitchen help.” He sneered the last two words, and he and Hanson headed for their truck.
Jesse didn’t say a word until the truck was down the driveway.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? What were you thinking having them out here?”
“I didn’t ‘have’ them here. Hanson invited himself when he saw me at the feed store yesterday. And thanks for making me sound like wimpy kitchen help. Jeez, Jesse.”
“Forget that. What did Hanson see?”
I grimaced. I didn’t want to, but I had to tell him. “Hurricane responded when he whistled. And he saw the saddle, of course.”
“Oh, fuck. Don’t you think we have enough problems with the fence line? Now you gotta ramp up this competition between you and Hanson?”
“It wasn’t me, Jesse, it was him.”
Jesse took off his hat, combed his fingers through his hair, and put the hat back on. “You are wanted at the big house.”
Without saying anything, I left him and headed there.
I SPENT the evening flipping through TV channels alone. The only light on in my house was the TV, which was dumb because there was nothing worth watching.
When I wandered into the kitchen to get a beer, a hand grabbed me out of the dark, then slapped itself across my mouth.
“Don’t say a word,” Dane growled behind my ear. I couldn’t have. I’d pretty much stopped breathing.
He dropped his hand.
“You scared the crap—”
Just like that he placed his hand back across my mouth, and he pulled me hard against his chest.
“I said quiet,” Dane hissed. “You got that?”
He released me and turned me around, and I peered at him in the dark. I nodded. He stared at me intently, his gaze sweeping from my face to my groin. It stayed there.
“Strip.”
I did, shaking some as the cool air hit me everywhere. My cock didn’t mind a bit though. It jumped right up when I freed it from my jeans.
Dane smiled and swiped at it with his bandaged hand. The bandage was smaller now but scratchy, which contrasted with the smoothness of the fingers that stuck out the top. The two sensations, scratchy and smooth, rubbed against my cock, making me so hard it hurt.
Dane moved both his hands slowly up my belly and chest. He pinched my nipples, first one, then the other, lightly at first and then harder until I gasped.
When I did, the pressure lifted immediately, replaced by hot, circular licks of his tongue, first to one nipple, then the other. My head spun at the difference.
I put my hands on his waist, but it was the wrong thing to do. Pinching fingers returned to my nipples. I dropped my hands right away, but he kept pinching, harder again. The pain shot straight to my cock, and my balls tightened.
How could the pain be such a turn on? Before I could think much a
bout that, I was shifting fast from foot to foot doing my darnedest not to move or make a sound or, God help me, come. He seemed to sense that, and that I was trying to do what he said.
“Good, cowboy. Real good.”
His lips replaced his fingers again, soothing away the pain as he licked and blew cool air across my throbbing buds. When he moved his good hand to my balls, fingering them softly, everything in me twitched.
He closed his hand around my cock and began to pull. My fingers grasped hopelessly at the air as I tried not to do anything that would make him stop.
I bit my lip to keep quiet. I tried holding my breath. When that didn’t work, I took deep breaths. The only other sounds in the room were the clock ticking and the rubbing of his hand against me.
The pressure built, everywhere at once. I thought my head or my cock would explode.
And then he just let me go. I gasped in frustration.
“Shhh,” he whispered.
Dane brushed his fingers against my jaw and nipped at my neck. “Good boy. You can make noise now, but no touching.”
He dropped silently to his knees and put his hands on my waist. He dipped his head and, without warning, took me deep in his mouth. I wasn’t expecting that, or anything that followed.
I exploded, cum spurting like an oil gusher. I had enough sense to push him off, so most of it hit his face, and he didn’t choke to death.
“Fucking shit, cowboy,” he barked, wiping his face with his good hand.
“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t expect that. Let me get a towel.”
I turned toward the sink. He grabbed me hard.
“Did I say you could move?”
“What?” I stared at him, not comprehending.
He rose to his feet, towering over me. “Did I say you could move?”
I stared at his boots and realized I was somewhere way beyond naked and he was still dressed, again. I put a hand in front of myself.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he commanded, his voice low and menacing. My hands were jittery as I did what he said.
He looked at me with hooded eyes. I had no idea what he was thinking, and suddenly I was more than a little afraid. Stop this now before you lose all control. This is not good.