New Tricks

by J. D. Light

  I knew it was a thing. It happened all the time to men who had been told all their life how bad being gay was. How wrong it was. Even when they were fully, completely gay, the aftermath of a sex act they were always told was disgusting made them feel dirty and wrong… even when it shouldn't.

  Byrum wasn't fully, completely gay. He'd once had a wife who he'd very much impregnated, and I'd not once seen him check out another man. This was going to be a fucking disaster. There I was, lying in his arms, feeling better than I'd ever felt in my entire life, and he was probably seconds away from having a complete meltdown that ended with him kicking me out on my ass with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

  And I was in love with him. There, I'd admitted it to myself. I was completely and totally in love with him, and I didn't even feel bad about it since I'd have to be completely heartless not to have fallen in love with the man, but how the hell did a person heal from something like that. I'd thought things were bad when I'd been betrayed by a man I only liked because he liked me and that had felt nice. What the hell was I going to do when I got kicked to the curb by Byrum?

  "You still can't run," he whispered into the back of my neck, squeezing me tight and making me stiffen in his arms before taking a deep breath and melting against him.

  Maybe he wasn't going to kick me out. And as rational thought started to seep into my previously panicked thought process, I realized that nothing about that scenario spoke of Byrum Rodgers. At most, if he started to regret what had happened between us, he'd simply avoid me until it all blew over. He'd never kick me out like that.

  I didn't know when I'd figured that out since I'd been worried to tell him about me for that very reason, but somewhere along the way, I'd started trusting him.

  "I wasn't going to run," I whispered, running my fingers over the backs of his arms. "But I might have been a little worried you were going to kick me out."

  He shook his head, and I opened my mouth to tell him I knew the truth now, but I closed it as he pressed his cheek to the side of my neck, nuzzling the skin with his scruff, sending a new tingle through my body as it started to spark to life again.

  "Not going to happen. If you're not ready for all of this, tell me, okay? I don't want to push you into something. I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my entire life, but I also want you to know that I'll be here for you no matter what, even if you don't want me in the same way I want you."

  I actually laughed at that, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "That's just ridiculous. I think we both know I want you the same way."

  I mean, hadn't it been pretty obvious what, with the way he'd caught me masturbating after our make-out session, or how I had a dildo in the drawer named after him?

  "Just tell me if I'm moving too fast, or if I do something to make you uncomfortable or something, okay? The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable, or even worse, obligated to do any of this."

  "Byrum, I don't feel obligated at all. I'll admit, I'm nervous. I've never even admitted I'm… you know."

  I felt him move behind me, his chest sliding against my back as he levered up onto his elbow, and I turned my head to look at him, wondering what the small frown between his brows was about. Did he want me to come out? Did he want to have an out in the open relationship? I couldn’t deny that it was something I wanted someday, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for that just yet, especially given the fact that I couldn't even say the words I'm gay out loud, even to myself.

  He gripped my hip and pulled me onto my back so he could lean over me slightly, looking down into my eyes. "When and if you ever come out is completely up to you. It's one thing for people to know you’re gay, but it is absolutely a different matter altogether to actually say the words out loud. Don't let anyone ever tell you when it's time to tell your truth."

  "Have you?" I whispered, biting my lip and blinking up into his dark, dark eyes. "Told anyone about you?"

  Chapter Six

  He was so handsome. Sometimes all I wanted to do was sit and just stare at him. He was still young enough that the effects of the sun on his fairly pale complexion were minimal. Just the freckles that dusting the bridge of his nose and across his forehead and shoulders.

  It was dark outside, so the lighting was low, and I couldn't see those precious marks just then, or the pretty gold-green of his hazel eyes, branching out from the jagged circle of brown around his iris, but I got to look at them every day in the sun, and it just seemed like I found something fascinating about them every single time I did.

  I smiled softly, not sure he could even see it with nothing more than the bathroom light on. He'd passed out cold after his orgasm earlier, and I'd gone and gotten a rag to clean us up. He'd been a boneless heap as I moved him around cleaning our combined cum off of his chest and sides where it had run down. I could have done anything to him in those moments. I'd never seen anyone pass out quite like that, and I had to admit, it had made me a bit nervous for a while.

  "No," I said, finally, answering his question. "Not even Tiff, and she was one of my closest friends at the time."

  His face scrunched, but his expression wasn't judgmental, just confused, and I honestly couldn't blame him. It had to seem odd that a forty-three-year-old man with an openly gay son, hadn't come out to anyone.

  "To be fair, I grew up in a time when I didn't even realize it was a thing." I shrugged. "I liked women, and it made sense since because all the boys liked women… or if they didn't, they sure pretended they did. We didn't have openly gay people in town back then, and… bi? I didn't know what that word meant until I was in my early thirties." I'd heard it said before, but I never even considered paying attention to the meaning behind it, or that it would even pertain to me. "Pan? Just heard that one last year, actually."

  At his surprised face, I chuckled. "I'm a forty-three-year-old ranch owner who lives in a small town and doesn't do social media. I've been trying to learn a little more about the LGBTQ community, but this old dog is struggling."

  He nodded, scrunching his nose. "I'm twenty-five, and it's hard for me too." Sighing, he licked his lips. "Of course, I've avoided a lot of the LGBTQ articles for fear someone would see it on my phone or computer and realize my big secret. I've gotten really good at being paranoid."

  And it sounded like it was probably with good reason. Someone didn't become that worried about coming out for nothing, and I wasn't naïve enough not to have heard the horror stories of gay bashings. I'd been fortunate enough not to have grown up or raised my son in a place where such things occurred, but I'd definitely seen the pictures of the young men on the news who hadn't been as fortunate, and it made me sick just to think about it.

  I knew what happened at his last ranch hadn't necessarily been that, because he hadn't looked like he'd been beaten up, or seemed sore when he worked, and I'd definitely paid attention to those things, but I had a feeling the things that had happened, hadn't made the prospect of coming out any easier on a person who was already struggling with that decision.

  "You don't have to tell me if you don't want," I said, brushing his dark-blond hair away from his face, deciding that even his forehead was sexy, and that possibly I had a fucking problem. "But what happened with Ray and his son?"

  He sighed, adjusting his head on the pillow. "Probably what you're thinking. Martin showed up after years of being gone, and most everyone was happy, but they were definitely all surprised, especially his younger brother."

  He frowned, pursing his lips. "He was different from everyone there, because he'd been out in the world. He seemed to have wider eyes and a wisdom that none of us could possibly imagine." He gave me a dry look, shaking his head. "I wasn't even attracted to him at first… maybe not ever, but he seemed to be flirting with me all the time. I wasn't sure at first if that was what was happening, or if I was just imagining things because I was beyond starved for a relationship, but it turned out I wasn't imagining it… it also wasn't really a relationship, since everything we did
was secret, but I was willing to overlook that, because I wasn't ready to come out either.

  "His brother caught on somehow, and he tried to warn me." He paused, shaking his head. "Branson really is a good guy, and I knew that. In a way, I'm not better than anyone else there at the Falling Acorn, because here, I'd known him for years, and then this asshole shows up, showing me a little attention, and I chose to believe Branson was lying to me, rather than accept that Martin could be a bad guy. Deep down, I knew I should listen to Branson, but I'd never been in a relationship before.

  "On that last day, Ray had told Martin about his friend he'd invited to dinner and that the man had a daughter he wanted Martin to meet. I don't know what I was expecting, but I guess I expected something. 'No thanks, Dad. I actually have someone in my life. No, you can't meet them yet because I'm not ready…' I don't know, something," he said, rounding his eyes to emphasize the word before pursing his lips. "But he just smiled and nodded and said he'd be happy to meet her.

  "I'd been so upset. I knew it was stupid and impossible, but anything would have been better than him basically agreeing to a supervised date with someone else. It just made me realize that he would go to any extent to stay in his dad's good graces, even to the point of marrying and starting a family with some girl, just so his dad would continue to fund his life."

  Huffing out a small, completely humorless laugh, he shook his head. "That was the reason he'd come back in the first place, by the way. That's what Branson told me when he tried to talk to me, and I wouldn't listen. Apparently, Martin had gotten into debt, and more was going out than was coming in financially, so he'd used a shady loan office to consolidate." I cringed and he nodded. "Shockingly, after the ridiculous interest rates, he was still basically paying the same amount and still not making enough to pay it. The difference is, if he misses a payment now, they don't send you friendly reminders, or repo your car."

  Damn. That had been a stupid fucking move. The guys who ran those type of operations didn't care whether you owed two dollars, or two hundred thousand. They had people who were in the business of making examples out of others, and they didn't care what they had to do to teach those lessons. You didn't just put yourself at risk when you borrowed from those men. You put everyone you knew and loved at risk.

  "He didn't follow me either," he informed me, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at something on the ceiling above my head. "I worked nearly the whole day without going back into the house, because I didn't want to see him. Not only was he going to go on a date with someone else, he didn't even care that the whole thing upset me. I was just a cow hand. There was nothing important about me worth even worrying himself about."

  He rolled his eyes. "He ended up finding me later that night, after Ray's friend and his daughter had left, still working in the horse barn. He didn't apologize or anything, just tried to kiss me." Curling his lip, and giving me a disgusted look, he shook his head.

  "I told him no, and it pissed him off, so he started yelling at me, and even pushed me up against the wall and tried to kiss me anyway."

  I ground my teeth, feeling the heat swamp my body as my rage started to boil up. It had been a really, really long time––probably since I'd been young enough to be ruled by testosterone and immature decisions––since I'd been fighting mad. Not just fighting mad, but wrap my hands around that bastard's neck and bash his head against a brick wall repeatedly, mad.

  "One of the other hands heard the yelling and came running. He saw what was happening, I know he did, because when I shoved Martin off of me, I saw him standing there behind him. Martin didn't though, and he came at me again, so I hit him hard enough he lost his feet. We must have been pretty loud, but I'd honestly lost track of everything while it was happening. I'd just been so surprised.

  "By the time it was all said and done, pretty much everyone who lived on the ranch was in that damn barn, and Martin started crying, telling his dad that I'd been messing with his head, and that he hadn't wanted to be with me, but I'd kept trying to trick him into doing things he didn't want to. It was insane, and I really thought everyone would see the truth just by listening to how ridiculous the story was, but they didn't, and everyone but Branson turned on me. Even the hand who'd watched him push me against the wall and try to stick his tongue down my throat while I yelled no.

  "Ray gave me time to pack my bag, and then he told me never to come back. Branson gave me a ride to the bus stop, and the next day, I was sitting in a café in Haven Hills drinking all the coffee I could so I could stay awake long enough to secure a job before my money ran out and I was living on the streets."

  "I'm sorry that happened to you, sweetheart," I whispered, rage making it hard for me to even breathe. "But I'm really glad you ended up in that café."

  He blinked, turning his face to mine, and his eyes seemed to focus as the frown eased from his features, and he smiled slowly. "Me too. I've been alone for a long time, and lucking into a friendship with someone like you, is far more than I ever expected."

  It was more than a friendship. At least, it was on my end, but I also knew I'd be pushing it to start talking about that right then. He'd told me his story and shared his body with me. That was enough for now. And he was right. Our friendship was important.

  I stayed like that for several moments, just staring down at him and watching his handsome face while pressing his hair back from his face and drawing lines on the skin of his forehead, down the slope of his nose and out over the bones of his cheeks. He watched me too, smiling softly. When my shoulder and collarbone started to ache from the position I was in, I sighed, and then cringed, flopping down to my back and then rolling my head to look over at him.

  "You hungry? Nancy left some of her chicken, rice and broccoli casserole." I'd barely had the words out of my mouth before he was jumping out of bed, searching the floor for his pants, and giving me a spectacular view of his ass as I eased from the bed at a slightly older pace. "Damn," I said on a sigh as he bent and scooped his pants up off the floor. I didn't get to see your ass before." I stepped up behind him, brushing my hand over the tops of the firm, gorgeous globes. "It's fucking perfect."

  He turned to look at me over his shoulder, giving me that shy smile, even as he boldly stood there, letting me peruse the beauty of his ass to my heart's content, and I groaned as heat settled in my groin and my dick started to fill.

  Gripping his hips, I spun him quickly, pressing my entire front to his, and gripping his ass in both my palms as I slanted my mouth to his, and easily slipped inside to taste him all over again. Our dicks notched together, and I praised his height in my head happily as I flexed my ass cheeks to press harder against him just as his tightened against my hands as he did the same.

  "I don't think I'm hungry anymore," he whispered, just as his stomach protested, nearly drowning out his words, and I laughed, while he rolled his eyes.

  "Come on, sweetheart," I said, pulling away and pulling my boxers out of the wad of my jeans where I'd kicked them off on the way to the bathroom. "I promise I'm not done with you yet. Let's get you fed, and then we'll see what we can come up with."

  He pouted as he slipped his pants on, but when I reached my hand out for him to take it and then laced our fingers together, he smiled softly and let me pull him downstairs.

  I'd never held hands with a man before, and I smiled at the difference. His thick fingers spread mine wide, and the grip when he squeezed was strong and secure. It was honestly nothing like holding a woman's hand, but I would be lying if I said I didn't like it.

  I liked it a lot. It was definitely something I could get used to.

  ***

  I bit my lip as Jefferson stepped up into the stirrup and threw his leg over the saddle, his gorgeous ass settling in, and I groaned quietly as my body started to respond immediately. At least, I thought I groaned quietly, but if the smirk he threw at me was any indication, I hadn't been nearly as successful as I'd thought.

  He chuckled softly before nudgi
ng his horse gently and heading off down the outside of the fence to the holding pen at the end where we'd herded about sixty head before lunch, and I sighed like an idiot, doing my best to be subtle, but I could tell I'd failed by the way I could very distinctly feel Cutter's gaze burning into the side of my head.

  "Quit looking at me like that," I grumbled, not even looking at him, as my good mood started to flee.

  "Like what, boss?" he asked innocently, but the amusement in his voice simply didn't convince me of this innocence he was trying to convey.

  "Just cut it out." I shot him a sideways glare. "If he catches you, he'll freak out."

  He might have been happy to spend the rest of the evening after we'd eaten, secure in our house, kissing and touching until we fell asleep in my bed, and then again in the shower that morning as we slowly cleaned each other's bodies before leisurely working each other with our hands, while trading gentle, exploratory kisses, but I knew he wasn't ready to share it with Cutter, Rudy and Sam yet. He needed time, and I was fine with that.

  "Oh. It's like that?" Cutter asked, his voice dropping slightly.

  We were leaning against the temporary panel fence with our arms bare, relaxed and waiting in the gorgeous late September weather, on Rudy, Sam and Jefferson––against my better judgment, but he'd promised to wear a leather glove over his injured hand the whole time––to herd the cows off of the northeast corner of the mile section of land the Ranch sat on.

  I had more land… two more mile sections actually, but it was all broken up by roads, so we'd either have to haul the panel and shoot to them when it was time to vaccinate them, or we'd have to load them all into the stock trailer and bring them here. Either way sucked, but moving the equipment rather than the cattle was the lesser of two evils.