by RJ Scott
"Yes."
* * * *
It had been three days since the sponge bath-blow job incident, something that Jack hadn't instigated a repeat of since, much to Riley's confusion. It had been good, hadn't it? Riley had certainly enjoyed it, but maybe Jack hadn't. After all, Riley's experience in the whole gay sex thing was limited to anonymous one offs. He was so confused. Was this thing they had a real marriage now? Had they really taken that step that meant, for the rest of the year of the marriage, they would be with each other in more than name? Every time Jack was with him, talking to him, helping him to shower, never taking it further than just helping, the anticipation was enough to kill Riley.
He'd actually managed a full dinner tonight. He'd sat at the scarred table in the kitchen with Donna and Jim and Beth, just listening to the teasing between Jack and his sister, and desperately missing Eden. Jim had become somewhat of a fixture at the D, and Riley was learning a lot about his real dad, about the pressure the eighteen-year-old had been under to just walk away from the woman he loved. They spoke of the threats to Sandra that Gerald had loved to make— that she would be cut out of his life, he'd take their sons, and publicly disown her. Jim told Riley of the last day, the single day that would live with Jim forever, the day Sandra said she didn't love him, could never love him. The day she'd chosen Gerald.
Riley had gone into one of his daydreams. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. His brain was processing all the things he was hearing, and all the things he was feeling. Still, this evening he could concentrate on nothing but Jack. The thoughts that twisted in his mind, wondering what it would be like to have sex with a man. Not just any man, but making love with the gorgeous sexy cowboy he'd married. It just made his head spin. Sense memory of the feel of him, hard and soft, muscled and strong under his hand, was making him hard in his jeans, a constant problem around his husband.
"You with us, Riley?" Jack asked, startling Riley out of his thoughts, causing him to glance round the table with a blush climbing his cheeks. He wondered if Jack could read his thoughts. "Tired? Sore?" Jack added softly, subtle concern crossing his face.
Riley blinked steadily, not sure what Jack wanted to hear, too used to giving answers that people expected, and having to really think how he did feel.
"No, not so tired," he started. "Feeling good, actually." He saw Jack's eyes widen, and the older man sat more upright in his seat. "Just missing Eden, I guess," Riley finished.
Jack moved abruptly to stand, clearing the table, scraping plates and loading the dishwasher, all the while humming under his breath. Every so often, he glanced back at Riley who looked back steadily at him while listening to Jack's mom and sister talk babies.
* * * *
Jack wondered if Riley felt anything for Beth, wondered if his husband's heart had thawed enough for regret over what he'd used against Jack to get him to agree. He'd sensed a change in Riley since the fire, a softening in him, an understanding, as the spell of the Campbell family was cast about him. He couldn't say he had anything other than healthy lust for the tall man who sat at the kitchen table, but respect was at least starting to build alongside the desire to bury himself in that—
"Jack, did you hear me?" Donna asked, laughing, pulling Jack out of his daydreams of fucking Riley.
"No, Momma," he replied, smiling ruefully at her, knowing that tone, knowing he was on the teasing end of her tongue.
"So then," Beth piped up, "he just plain jumped off the roof, straight into the pile of manure." She collapsed in giggles at the grimace on Jack's face. Thing was, Riley was smiling as well, and also kind of smirking, and Jack groaned inwardly. Great, now he had ammunition from the great raft of embarrassing things Jack did as a child. Making the decision, he reached out to Riley.
"Time to bring the torture to an end. Bed for the invalid, I think," he said simply, daring Riley to say differently.
There was a slight pause, Riley's eyes widening slightly. The smile that had been on his face fell into a look of discomfort, and he began the whole worrying his lower lip with his teeth thing. It was probably only seconds, but it seemed like minutes, as the question hung in the air between them. Finally Riley stood, taking Jack's hand and curling his fingers through Jack's. Beth startled to giggle again, Jim looked strangely proud of the open affection, and Donna just looked on fondly as the two men left the kitchen.
* * * *
Riley followed Jack along the long corridor to the back of the house where Jack had his own rooms. Just two, one the bedroom with the large queen-size bed —the sick room— where Riley had slept for so long, and the other set up as an office full of paperwork and schedules, photos and posters for seasonal schedules. Jack had spent some time in the bedroom earlier, after he'd sat Riley at the kitchen table to chat to Donna as she prepared dinner. The window was slightly open to the warm Texas evening, the filmy curtain material moving subtly, and the lights were low. He'd put fresh sheets on the bed, and the whole room smelled less like illness and more like… more like Jack. Riley frowned, tugging his hand free of Jack's, sighing and crossing to sit on the bed. He guessed from the way he'd been pulled into the room that he had done or said something wrong at the dinner table, and he waited to be told.
It startled him when Jack crouched down between his knees, looking up at him, his hands solid against Riley's thighs.
"You gotta promise me," Jack started with a smirk, "that you tell no one the stories you heard at dinner, on pain of death."
Riley wasn't sure what to say. It didn't sound like Jack was angry with him or disappointed in his family for sharing all those stories of Jack's childhood.
"I won't," Riley finally offered, ducking his head again, suddenly unaccountably and stupidly shy.
With a sudden surge, Jack stood and encouraged Riley to scoot back on the bed, only hesitating when Riley winced at the pull on his chest.
"You may fancy yourself all fixed, Het-boy, but you're still hurting, aren't you?"
"A bit, nothing major." Riley lay back on the soft pillows.
"Jeff's visit today got me thinking, Mr Campbell-Hayes, that there's no sense in us both going without for the rest of the year."
* * * *
"Sex, you mean?" Riley offered quietly, and Jack felt like smacking him for sounding so miserable. He chose to ignore what Riley had said.
"Tonight we could maybe make this marriage a real one, consummate it, become lovers in every sense of the word. Then your brother will have no more ammunition left." He kneeled on the bed and then leaned in to drop a gentle kiss to the skin on Riley's long neck, opening his mouth and kiss-biting into the warmth of the pulse below his lips. Tenderly he traced more kisses up his husband's chin and settled his mouth onto Riley's, his tongue encouraging Riley to open his mouth for a kiss.
He sensed Riley pull back against the pillow in the half-light. "I haven't… I've never had sex with a man, bottomed, topped, nothing. I don't know if I can do this."
"For tonight, just let me do all the work, eh?" Jack paused to steal a heated kiss, kissing away any words Riley wanted to throw into the conversation. He lifted his head. "Okay, here is how we play it. I want you to fuck me. I'll show you, open myself up. You can help, and then you can just lay back, and I'll show you what it can be like."
Riley whimpered and breathed a sound somewhere between a groan to stop and a plea for more, arching unconsciously into Jack's weight across his groin.
"You wanna do this, Het-boy?" Jack noticed the nickname didn't drip its normal sarcasm; it was affectionate and intimate, and Jack couldn't fight the feeling of wanting more, of wanting Riley inside him.
"Do you… is that what you normally do?" Riley seemed spooked, and Jack chased a trail of kisses from his throat to lips.
"I'm flexible," he finally said, dipping to taste Riley's sinful mouth with a heated exchange of tongues.
Riley finally got with the plan, pushing with his hand to move slightly down the bed and lay flat. Jack could taste Riley for hours,
just kiss and suck and tongue-fuck his mouth until neither of them could breathe anymore; it was so damn natural it was scary. Riley responded with equal ferocity, and Jack was being ultra-careful not to lean on his husband's chest where the bandages still lay, raising to his knees and arching over his new lover. He began talking, over and over as he would to a spooked horse, repeating words to still Riley's fears. "Beautiful… Needy… Mine. I'll look after you…" a narrative of kissed words over his body. He slipped Riley's clothes from him as they kissed until finally Riley lay naked under him, pliant and warm.
Pushing his own jeans and boxers off and lifting his T-shirt over his head, Jack lowered himself to one side, reaching into the bedside cabinet. He pulled out what he needed.
"Okay? Last chance."
Riley didn't seem to want hesitation or the time to think, demanding kisses and touches, grabbing Jack's arms and just holding on. It blew Jack's mind the way this man arched up under him, stealing breath with every touch. He couldn't remember a connection this instant, this intense, with any partner before. He knew he should stop, give them time, not race after this so fast. But if he'd taken the time to stop and think about this, he might never have touched Riley in the first place. It was like playing with fire. He sat up, Riley chasing the kisses, his head lifting from the pillow. Jack hushed him with a single finger on his kiss-bitten lips as his lover tried to ask why Jack had stopped.
"Don't ask me if I want to stop now. I don't want to stop," Riley whispered urgently.
As if to emphasize the point, he pushed himself against Jack's thigh and, at the same time, letting out that God-damned half-whimper that curled lust and want into the base of Jack's spine. It was an invitation to sin, Riley spread out on the bed against the white cotton, his limbs languid and stretched, the dips and lines of muscles so simple to trace with tongue and teeth. Jack leaned back on his haunches, smoothing slick over his fingers, capturing Riley's hand and mixing the smooth oil over his hand as well.
"Remember the game, Riley. Copy what I do," Jack whispered, and Riley nodded, watching intently as Jack pushed a finger inside himself and studying as he pressed in a second. He pulled at Riley's hand covered with the slick and encouraged him to explore with one finger alongside Jack's own fingers. The feelings were intense, strange, both the heat and the touch. Jack keened and leaned over, pushing back on their joined fingers. It was too much, and he could feel his orgasm starting to build.
He wanted to say, "I need to slow down; it's too fast", but all that came out was a muffled half groan as Riley arched up under him. His husband was seeking any kind of friction for his neglected dick, and Jack pulled his fingers and Riley's out just to slow things down a bit, exploring his husband's long lithe body instead with taste and touch, focusing on bruised lips that demanded to be kissed. Leaning up and away, he pulled a condom from the small pile and held it in front of him. They were both clean, the contract had demanded tests, and he really didn't want to use the extra barrier. Riley seemed to understand, reaching for the condom and throwing it to the floor. From then on, it was pure sensation, awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing, and ultimately, the most intense sensations Jack had ever felt.
Primal need and the chase for ecstasy made Jack move into position ,and he breathed deep as Riley's dick pushed past the strong muscle. He was nearly there, and the look of astonished fear in Riley's face would have made him laugh, but he knew the almost religious joy that Riley was feeling. When Riley stopped, finally seated, joined completely, Jack could barely breathe. They moved together, Jack positioned just so, Riley pushing up in counter rhythm at the right angle, and soon, there was nothing except a need to come right the fuck now.
"I can't, Jack… I can't…" Riley moaned, pulling Jack's head down by his hair, his damp hands tangled in the strands, insistent that Jack should be kissing him.
Jack was so near, and Riley's eyes were closed, his muscles tense. Jack could see it would be seconds before Riley lost it inside him. Jack just needed… needed…
"Touch me." he half ordered, half begged, and Riley was there, wrapping a huge hand around Jack's dick and moving and twisting to push Jack over the edge.
It was Jack who lost it first, by seconds, hot and hard and clenching around Riley so tight it must have helped to push the younger man over the edge after his husband. It was intense, and it was perfect, Jack half falling as he moved into the ripples of orgasm that chased along his spine. Riley had tears in the corners of his eyes. Jack kissed them away with murmured praise and thanks until he finally stilled his movement and, careful of Riley's chest, sank in for kisses that he needed more than air.
They stayed locked in the intimate embrace until Jack rolled off and to the side, sleep pulling him to cuddle into Riley's side.
"Know what, Jack?" Riley said tiredly, pulling Jack in closer.
"Wha'?" Jack replied, on the very edges of sleep.
"You, cowboy, are worth every dollar I paid."
Chapter 28
Jack pulled from post-coital bliss to temper, quicker than you could snap a finger.
"What the fuck, Riley?" he bit out angrily, pushing away from the furnace of his husband and sitting upright. Riley just blinked up at him, a blank look on his face, a blank look that quickly turned to stunned shame. He too scrambled to sit up, the bandages pulling and the sheets tangling round his legs.
Jack jumped off the bed, pulling on the discarded jeans and T, all the time ignoring Riley and his pleading words. "I didn't mean it that way, Jack, please. It was a joke."
Jack silenced him with a sweep of his hand. "Way to make your husband feel like a whore," he bit out, leaving and slamming the door behind him.
Stunned, it took Riley a few seconds to get his head around what he'd just done. It had been a joke, and as usual, his nerves and his stupid dry sense of humor had backfired on him. Scrambling to his feet, swaying at the rush of blood to his head, he picked up the jeans and tee he'd been wearing, and sat on the edge of the bed trying to pull the damn denim over his uncooperative legs. His stomach was still sticky with cum, and he wiped at it with furious sweeps of cotton bedding, then pulled on his tee and rushed to the door, dragging it open and calling after his escaping husband.
Donna walked out of the kitchen, a mug of coffee in her hand, a curious Jim standing beside her.
"Riley? What's wrong? Jack went out of here like he was lit on fire."
"It's me. I fucked up," Riley said on his way to the front door. He opened it to see the truck was still there. That meant Jack hadn't left the D. He slipped on his sneakers.
"Riley, sweetheart…" Donna's voice was quiet and Riley looked back at her with determination on his face.
He couldn't stop to talk or exchange pleasantries. "Donna, I need to—"
"The barn, the old one at the back. He'll be with his babies," she explained simply, and Riley had the grace to blush at his rudeness. "Riley, one last thing. I don't know what's wrong, but if the two of you need to talk about something, make sure you listen to the stuff he doesn't say." Riley nodded, shuffling down the steps, his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing more than a little labored. He needed to slow down, or by the time he reached the barn, he wasn't going to have the power of rational speech, let alone be conscious.
He picked his way past the debris of the first barn, his eyes drawn to the charcoal blackness of the charred wood. His head filled with images from that night, of Jack worried and scared for him. The images mixed with the feeling Riley had building inside him, want, need, desire— love. He couldn't love a man. He wasn't gay, had never been gay, and he didn't know what to think.
He rounded the corner, the side of the older red barn looming in the diminishing light of evening. He saw no sign of Jack yet. He wanted to call out, but then he didn't want Jack to have time to run, because damn it, Jack needed to hear what Riley had to say this time. When he saw his husband, it almost drove him to his knees in self-disgust. This strong, proud man sat in the hay, the foal's head in his l
ap, crooning nonsense words to her. It was all Riley could do not to drop to his knees beside Jack and just beg for forgiveness, when what he needed to do was get Jack to understand why he'd said what he said.
"Jack," he finally said into the dim interior. Jack refused to look up and meet his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I upset you but—"
"I'm not a girl. I don't need touchy-feely crap, Riley, so quit with the explanation. Let's just chalk it up to experience. I know where I stand. I won't forget again."
Riley was stunned, completely and totally speechless. Is that what Jack thought? Carefully he lowered himself to sit next to Jack, curling a hand in the foal's soft mane and scratching idly.
"At the beginning, Jack," he started softly, "maybe a few weeks ago, I could have accepted that crap from you. When this all started, hell, I owned you. I bought you, paid for you. In my mind you were just another pawn in the Hayes game to get what I wanted." Frustrated he bent his head, wiping a hand across his face. How the hell was he going to get Jack to understand how he'd changed? "You meant nothing to me. As for Beth…" He paused, knowing he needed to be totally honest about this before Jack would believe anything else he said. "Beth meant nothing to me. When Steve told me what had happened to her, it was just another mark in the column for screwing with my family and choosing you to do it with." He stopped again. Honesty was hard when it meant opening himself up like this.
"I don't think I'll ever totally forgive you for that," Jack half-whispered, and Riley felt his stomach twist and his heart fall.
"That isn't me though, Jack, not the real me. I don't mean to hurt people. I'm not the man who buys people. I'm not like them. But— I don't expect you to accept that at face value." He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and dropping his chin to rest on his knees. This was one of the hardest conversations he'd ever had. "If the only way to beat them is to play their own game then, hell, I knew I could do that. So way back, when I first approached you, it wasn't to give Beth support or to fall in love with you. You were just a commodity, something I could use as leverage."