Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits

by Michael Murphy

  It was really nice to sit behind him, leaning up against his warm back with arms wrapped firmly around his middle. Shane wore a helmet too—“Can’t risk another cracked skull.”

  They rode away from the house, over the hill, and then down a wash. At one point, Jimmy scrambled off to open a gate and then closed it behind them. Cattle watched curiously from afar as the vehicle followed the curve of the land. Atop a tall, grassy rise, an enormous tree stretched its crooked branches, an ancient sentinel. Shane drove them to the top of the hill and stopped just outside the tree’s spring-green canopy. When he and Jimmy dismounted, they hung their helmets from the handlebars, and Shane shook out his hair. He walked slowly beneath the tree until he reached the trunk. He caressed it slowly, like a blind man trying to feel its shape.

  Jimmy followed him through the grass as birds flitted noisily among the higher branches. The bark looked heavily ridged, like alligator hide.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jimmy said when he caught up to Shane.

  “Valley oak. I used to know the botanical name, but I forget. Dad thinks this one could be five hundred years old.”

  “Wow.” It was Jimmy’s turn to stroke the trunk. “So back when Shakespeare was writing his plays, this tree had already been feeding squirrels for decades. I can see why it’s your favorite spot.”

  “It’s not. I mean, I like it well enough. But I like down there better.” He pointed down the other side of the hill, which was steep and covered by brush. Another hill pushed up close, and the foliage obscured what lay between them.

  “Will you go down there with me?” Shane asked. He set his jaw. “I might need some help.”

  Jimmy didn’t see the point of tromping over difficult ground, and he didn’t understand why Shane was intent on sharing this experience with him. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to visit a special place with someone he cared about instead of with the drifter he’d known only a few days? Surely any one of Shane’s many relatives would happily help him out.

  But this was important to Shane; Jimmy could tell. So he looked Shane straight in the eyes. “Sure,” he said.

  The angle of the slope made their footing somewhat treacherous. Jimmy had to put his arm around Shane’s waist—Shane’s arm over his shoulders—to help him down the trickier parts. Shane didn’t say anything as they descended, but his breathing was harsh. Sometimes a small moan escaped his tightly clamped lips. For the final part, Jimmy had to hop down a four-foot drop and then almost lift Shane to the ground beside him. Shane leaned back against the little cliff, his head hanging low. Jimmy didn’t ask whether he was okay because the answer was obvious, but after a minute or two, Shane recovered enough to stand up straight and look around. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  It was. The creek that meandered between the hills had created a sort of miniature Grand Canyon as it exposed the neighboring stone. They sat in a little clearing surrounded by lush vegetation, and the sunlight filtered through the branches, creating dancing dappled patterns.

  “Let me show you something,” Shane said. He walked them along the edge of the creek for several yards until they came to a slightly wider point in the little valley, and then he pointed at some granite boulders. Looking more closely, Jimmy saw that the rocks had deep rounded indentations that were too regular to have occurred naturally. “Indian grinding stones. I asked one of my teachers about them once. She said the Indians would soak acorns in water to get rid of the…. Dammit, I forget the word. It tastes bad. Anyway, they’d soak the acorns and then pound them into flour.” With a small groan, he sat on one of the stones and smoothed a finger around the edge of one of the holes.

  Jimmy had thought the town of Rattlesnake carried the full weight of the past—especially the cemetery and the inn—but that was all just yesterday compared to the history of the land. Here, stories were literally carved in stone and growing on hilltops. He wondered what it would be like to live in a place where every bit carried a memory.

  “I like it here,” Jimmy said as he sat next to Shane. “It feels private. Special.”

  When Shane twisted to face him, he was beaming. “Exactly! When you come down here, it’s like nobody else can… can bother you. Have you ever had a spot like that? When you were a kid, maybe?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “Not that I remember. We’d live in these tiny shacks or cramped apartments. Once in a while I’d find a hidey hole somewhere, but my brothers could always find me.”

  Mildly, Shane said, “I thought you didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  Shit. The problem with staying in one location for more than a few days was that you forgot what stories you’d told. “I don’t,” Jimmy said. “I haven’t for a long time.”

  Shane looked a little sad, but not angry. He angled away and started rubbing the edge of the indentation again. “I was eight when Mom and Dad married. I was really excited about it. I adored him from the start, and Pokey, Ty, Annie—I was thrilled to have siblings. Plus Ty’s only eight months older than me, and we already knew each other from school, so that was great. And man, getting to move to a ranch and someday be a real cowboy? What kid wouldn’t be psyched over that? But sometimes it was all a little too much, I guess. All these people. You know what I mean.” He waved in the general direction of the house and the family gathering.

  “Yeah, I get you.”

  “Then Charlie came along real soon, and that was cool, but of course at first she took a lot of Mom’s attention. I was kind of a brat about it, which means I got yelled at. But one day when I was feeling sorry for myself, I found this.” He gestured at the valley. “And I’d come back whenever I needed some time to myself or just a place to escape the circus for a while. It’s nice to be able to run away without leaving home.” He gave Jimmy one of those piercing looks that made him squirm.

  Instead of answering, Jimmy looked at the creek, where the sunlight played with the water’s surface. He liked the way the air smelled here, fresh and green and a little sagey, and he liked the sounds of the stream, the gently rustling leaves, the twittering of the birds.

  He was startled—but not unhappily so—when Shane put an arm around him and leaned into his shoulder. Jimmy responded by settling his hand on the soft denim over Shane’s thigh.

  Jimmy was used to quiet time. What was new to him was having companionship during the quiet. He was surprised that Shane’s presence didn’t diminish his enjoyment of sitting somewhere pretty and safe, with a full belly and a few dollars in his wallet. In fact, it was awfully nice to have a warm body to lean against, a friendly smile to meet him when he turned his head.

  And when Shane leaned in closer to kiss him, that was nicer still.

  Pretty soon they were making out like a pair of randy teenagers, and Jimmy’s jeans felt way too confining. He gasped when Shane lightly squeezed his bulge. Jimmy was suddenly ravenous—and not for more grilled tri-tip. But when Shane reached to unbutton Jimmy’s jeans, Jimmy scooted away. “We’re… in public.”

  Shane laughed. “We have more privacy here than back at the inn. Nobody ever comes down here. Me and Jesse used to—” He clamped his mouth shut and looked away for a moment. When he turned back, his grin had returned. “Nobody’s gonna interrupt us.”

  Charlie had said something about Shane’s judgment being off sometimes. Jimmy truly hoped this was not one of those times, because he didn’t have the willpower to refuse. He did have a request, however. “I want to see you this time. Naked.” Because he rarely got that opportunity with any of his partners, and because he wanted to know Shane just that little bit more. He stood to undress.

  Shane stood as well but hesitated with his hands on the placket of his Pendleton shirt. “I’m not very pretty. I’m bony.”

  By way of encouragement, Jimmy kicked off his shoes. As he peeled off his socks, he said, “I’m not exactly underwear-model material myself. And I wasn’t twenty years ago either.”

  “I have scars. Bad ones.”

  With the pebbles smooth and
cool under his feet, Jimmy walked closer. “You gotta believe me on this, Shane. No matter how many scars you have, I won’t find you any less attractive.”

  Shane narrowed his eyes. “Is that the truth or an easy lie?”

  God, Jimmy’s heart twisted. How much did Shane suspect about the stories he’d told, and how could the man trust him at all? “The truth.”

  “I don’t want… don’t want you to pity me.”

  Jimmy brushed the marks on Shane’s face with his fingertips and then stepped back slightly to wiggle out of his jeans and underwear, leaving himself fully exposed to Shane’s gaze. He knew he wasn’t much to look at, but his dick was hard, which he figured was pretty incontrovertible proof of his interest in Shane. He waved a hand in the direction of his groin. “Does that look like pity to you?”

  “No. But you ain’t seen the scars yet.”

  “Try me.”

  Biting his lip, Shane shrugged off the wool shirt and set it on one of the grinding rocks. His T-shirt soon followed. And yeah, scars traced intricate roadways across his pale skin. But freckles dotted his chest as well, and russet hair formed a triangle between his pinkish-brown nipples, and all Jimmy wanted to do was touch him and taste him.

  “Still not feeling sorry for you,” Jimmy said, his voice husky.

  Shane let out his breath in a not-quite-laugh. He unbuckled his belt but then seemed to remember he wore boots. When he sat on a rock and leaned down, Jimmy crouched in front of him and batted his hands away. “Let me.”

  “Oh fuck,” Shane moaned.

  “What?”

  “You look a sight like that.”

  Ducking his head to hide his grin, Jimmy tugged Shane’s boots and socks off and gave his long, narrow feet a quick rub. He couldn’t recall being in a situation so erotic before—kneeling naked at the feet of a nearly full-clothed handsome man, with only the trees and the sky above them, only the living hills as walls. Impulsively, he kissed Shane’s instep and was rewarded with a noisy hiss.

  “God damn!” Shane swore, sounding more awestruck than blasphemous.

  Jimmy wouldn’t have minded continuing, but his knees ached. He stood, then held out a hand. “C’mere, pardner.”

  Shane grasped it and stood. He allowed Jimmy to unfasten his jeans and tug them down, and he held on to Jimmy’s shoulder for balance while kicking the denim free. He wore light blue boxer shorts, unremarkable and not especially flattering. Long scars traced his legs. When Jimmy rid Shane of his underwear, he saw that his left hip bore the largest scar of all, an angry-looking knot of raised tissue. Shane’s soft cock was plump and cut, with a thick nest of springy curls and balls so sweet that Jimmy longed for them in his mouth.

  “See?” Shane said defiantly. “I’m a goddamn mess.”

  But that wasn’t what Jimmy was thinking. A little voice within him was wondering how a man like Shane could ever want weak, unreliable, worthless Jimmy Dorsett. But he gave voice to his most forceful thought. “You’re a goddamn miracle. And so fucking strong.”

  Something shifted in Shane’s eyes as he realized Jimmy told the truth. “You really don’t care about the scars.”

  “I care, because they’re important to you, because I suppose they helped make the Shane I know. But they sure as hell don’t make me think any less of you. And they don’t make me want you any less.” It was, perhaps, the deepest declaration of feelings he’d ever made. But then, he’d never before felt this way.

  Even before they moved into an embrace, Shane’s cock began to fill. Then Jimmy felt it harden against his while he groped Shane’s ass. Absolutely perfect, with or without scars. And speaking of scars…. Jimmy tugged Shane’s head down a bit to kiss the marks on his face: the big one on his forehead, partially hidden by his hair; the small one next to his left eye; the horizontal one on the bridge of his nose, right over the bump; the sideways V under his chin.

  And once he’d started on that plan of action, Jimmy didn’t want to stop. He pressed his lips to the scars on Shane’s chest and on his arms, then knelt to kiss the painful knot over his hip. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t a tender lover. He rutted, he sucked, he fucked; he didn’t make love. But today he wanted to worship Shane’s body, especially the imperfect parts. Perhaps because Jimmy was so imperfect himself.

  He wanted to move on to the long scars on Shane’s legs, but Shane’s cock was directly in front of him, rampant and proud, the tip a tempting red. So Jimmy kissed the glans instead, then pressed his lips to the heavy vein that ran the length of the shaft—once, twice, three times—and finally mouthed gently at the heavy sac.

  Shane clutched his shoulder hard. “My legs’re gonna give out.”

  Jimmy looked up at him, grinning. “Where’s good to lie down?” Because although the gravel was worn smooth, it still wasn’t especially comfortable.

  “Over there.” Shane helped him stand and towed him to a spot just around the bend, where the little canyon widened a bit and the creekside gravel gave way to grass. When they collapsed to the ground—neither of them graceful about it—the crushed plants smelled slightly of mint. “We’re going to get grass stains in unmentionable places,” Jimmy said, stroking Shane’s chest hair.

  “You can use my tub to scrub up.”

  “Hmm.” Jimmy was more interested in tasting him again, so he pushed Shane onto his back and then climbed on top. While Shane stroked and squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders, back, and ass, Jimmy repeated the kissing sequence, beginning again near Shane’s scalp. He made it all the way to the shins this time, then to the knobby ankles, before working his way back up Shane’s inner legs. He stopped with his mouth a fraction of an inch from Shane’s balls and blew warm air just to watch the sensitive skin pucker. He laughed when Shane lifted his hips.

  “Tryin’ to tell me something, there, pardner?” Jimmy asked.

  “My family was right. You are evil.”

  Jimmy gave his very best malicious chuckle and tongued the damp, salty head of Shane’s cock.

  It would have been nice to draw things out longer, but the sun was warm enough on Jimmy’s back and ass for him to worry about burning, and besides, Shane was writhing urgently beneath him. And truth was, Jimmy wanted to see Shane fall apart from the pleasure Jimmy gave him. So without further teasing, he grasped Shane’s hot, solid cock and slipped the end into his mouth.

  He’d become good at giving head, back in the days when he earned his dinner that way. He learned how to bring off a john quickly. And in the years after, his couplings were usually urgent and rushed—a few stolen minutes in back alleys or bathrooms, with the threat of interruption always present. Now, though, he could use his skills not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because every grunt and moan from Shane’s throat, every too-hard press of Shane’s fingers into his skin, made his heart race and his blood boil.

  “Jesus Christ, Jimmy!” Shane yelled, loud enough to startle some nearby birds. Then he spasmed and came, his fluid thick and earthy against Jimmy’s palate.

  Jimmy licked him clean before planting one final kiss on his hip and then scooting up to lie beside him.

  “Want me to return the favor?” Shane asked, reaching for him.

  But although Jimmy’s balls throbbed, he caught Shane’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Not now. Somebody told me it’s better if you wait awhile.”

  “Doesn’t get much better than this,” Shane replied.

  Still holding hands, they lay side by side, looking up to the sky. The temperature was exactly warm enough, Jimmy decided. A yellow butterfly fluttered over to land on Shane’s toe, making them both laugh.

  After a bit, Shane sighed and tilted his head to rest against Jimmy’s shoulder. “I was driving too fast. That’s what the police said, anyway. I don’t remember. I have a big old blank spot starting a few weeks before the accident and ending when I woke up from a coma. I lost the last… I lost time. Anyway, I wasn’t drinking or anything. I was just a stupid kid who should have slowed down for the curve
. I rolled my truck.”

  Jimmy could almost hear the sickening crunch and thud. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty-three. Five years out of high school, and I loved working the ranch. It’s all I ever wanted to do. When you’re out there with nothing to work with but your horse, your hands, your own strong body—nothing in the world feels so good.” He laughed slightly and squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “Well, almost nothing. Have you ever had a job you’ve loved like that?”

  “Not really. I’ve liked some, though.”

  “Did you ever—when you were a kid, maybe—sit there and think about what you truly wanted to do with yourself? Like Aunt Belinda. She adores that inn. She’d probably park herself there all the time if somebody didn’t pry her away now and then. And Charlie? She’s wanted to be a teacher since she started kindergarten. She used to make us play school, and even though she was the youngest, she was always in charge.”

  Jimmy remembered his answer from before. “For a while I thought it’d be cool to be a fireman. All those lights and sirens, I guess.”

  Shane rolled his head to look at Jimmy. “Really?” he asked, his eyes brighter blue than the sky.

  Jimmy shook his head slightly. “No. Not really. I never actually thought about it, I guess.” Because most of the time, survival was his goal, and even when he was very little, he knew he’d never amount to anything. Hell, everyone told him so. Sometimes in words, sometimes just with the looks they’d give him as he stood with his unkempt hair and unwashed body, wearing threadbare hand-me-downs. And nobody ever asked what he wanted to be when he grew up.

  “How can you stand being here?” he asked. “On the ranch, I mean. Doesn’t it get to you?”

  “’Cause I can’t work here anymore? Yeah, I guess it bugs me. But it’s still home. My family’s here. I’d miss it like crazy if I was away too long.”

  Jimmy didn’t understand that. There were whole sections of states he avoided because of the memories, like Chicago, where he’d lived when his mother died. He sure as hell didn’t miss those places. “And you’re okay with being a bartender?”