Country

by Jeff Mann

  Brice hesitated. He looked around the little room. Two tables had already emptied, and the elderly couple to their left seemed thoroughly engrossed in their meals.

  Brice took a deep breath—feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—reached over, and took Lucas’s hand. He squeezed it. Lucas squeezed back.

  “Hey, Miss Eleanor,” Lucas said, looking over Brice’s shoulder. Brice jumped, releasing Lucas’s hand.

  Eleanor stepped around Brice with a heaped platter. “You two make a real cute couple,” she whispered, as she set the plates before them. “I hope you enjoy your time in our county, Ken. It’s served as a refuge for all sorts of folks in dire need of shelter. And if you’d just sign these real quick, I’d be grateful forever.”

  From the deep pockets of her apron, Eleanor pulled out four of Brice’s CDs. She offered him a pen. “Don’t you worry, honey,” she said, patting his hand. “I’m not telling a soul.”

  Brice took a deep breath and exhaled. He signed the CDs so fast that he almost blurred his autograph.

  “I appreciate your discretion, ma’am. If folks knew who I was—”

  “Lord, I don’t want any trashy reporters in here.” Eleanor pursed her lips and slipped the CDs back into her apron pockets. “Then I’d have to pull out my shotgun, and that surely wouldn’t be good for business. I hope you enjoy our food, and happy Valentine’s Day. God bless you.”

  Lucas and Brice watched her go. “Sometimes Christians can surprise you,” Lucas said. “Dig in, big man. Let me know how you like that rösti. In fact, if you give me a few bites of that, I’ll share some of this here tasty sauerkraut.”

  “SO, I HAVE KIND OF a little Valentine’s Day surprise for you,” Lucas said, as they entered the lodge at kitchen level. “Two, actually.”

  “Yeah? Well, I actually have something for you.”

  Both men shed coats and stomped dead leaves and mud off boots. The weather outside had shifted at nightfall from a cloudless calm to a blustery drizzle.

  “Here you go,” Lucas said, pointing to the counter. On it sat a potted amaryllis in full bloom.

  “Wow.” Brice stroked the plant’s long leaves and the ruby-hued explosion of its lush petals. “Thank you! It’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah, they’re cool. You never can tell when they’re gonna bloom. That lump of a bulb just sits there for months and months, like it’s dead, like it might as well be a chunk’a rock. And then one day, bam! It comes alive. Like Christ striding outta that cave. Like some kinda dormant volcano. And here’s the second surprise.”

  Lucas pulled a bottle from the fridge. “Uncle Phil left it for us, for tonight. It’s some fancy pink champagne. Prosecco. Want some now?”

  “Sure. But first, here’s your gift.” Brice pulled a small package from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lucas. “I hope you don’t think it’s inappropriate.”

  “Hmm.” Lucas tore it open and pulled out a pair of skimpily cut black Speedos. “Not a lot to it,” he said. “Tiny little thang.”

  “I figured you might wear it this evening, in case you felt like heading down to that grotto and hitting the hot tub with me. It’s a nasty, cold night. Taking a warm soak might feel just right.”

  Lucas arched an eyebrow. “You’ve had this all planned out, haven’t you? Trying to get me naked?”

  “What do you think?” Brice took the risk of reaching over and stroking the boy’s cheek. Don’t bolt! Don’t bolt! he prayed. “Besides, you won’t be naked. You’ll be wearing those stylish briefs.”

  “How about you? What’ll you be wearing?”

  “I, my handsome friend, will be naked. I didn’t bring any swim trunks. That all right with you?”

  Lucas looked Brice up and down, his face unreadable. “Sure. We’re all just guys here, right? I’ll fetch us some towels, then head down and get the tub ready. How about you grab a couple glasses and bring the champagne?”

  WHEN BRICE GOT TO THE GROTTO, HE FOUND it dark and toasty, illuminated by a single stocky candle burning on a sconce. The floating plastic cover had been removed from the hot tub, the bubbles were on full blast, and steam rose from the water, but Lucas was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hey, here I am!” Brice yelled, placing the champagne bottle and glasses on a little table in the corner. He sat on a bench lining the wall and tugged off his boots and socks. He stood and peeled off his sweatshirt and undershirt. Bare-chested, he was unbuckling his belt when, across the humid room, the door to the bathroom opened.

  Lucas stepped out. He wore nothing but his silver neck-chains and the Speedos Brice had bought him. He hesitated in the dim light, eyes lowered, sinewy arms wrapped around himself. He took a deep breath, raised his eyes, and gave Brice the faintest trace of a smile. “Hey. How do I look?”

  Brice stared. As he’d expected, the tiny garment highlighted the leanness of Lucas’s hips and the flatness of his midriff. Even in light so dim, Brice could make out the prominent crotch-bulge and the trail of belly hair disappearing beneath the black Spandex.

  “Uhhh. Beautiful. They, uh, fit you just right.” Oh, Christ, I’m getting hard already.

  “Ready for that dip?”

  Brice nodded. He studied the boy with awe. That pale skin. Those dark tattoos. Those shoulders, those arms, those hips, those thighs. He’s like a little sex-god, a country porn star. I want to hold him so bad. I want to shove him up against the wall and kiss him till our mouths bruise up.

  “Let me just get these pants off.” Awkward and excited, seized with sudden self-consciousness, Brice turned his back to Lucas as he stripped. He’s perfect, so young and slender, and I’m so old and fat. God, please let him like the way I look. Please don’t let me be too old or too heavy or too hairy for him. Naked, heart pounding, Brice turned. To his chagrin, his cock had risen to half-mast. Blushing, he covered his crotch with his hands.

  Lucas’s faint smile widened as he looked Brice up and down. “I can tell you approve of these briefs you bought me. Would you pour the champagne?” Lucas said, stepping down into the water.

  Brice popped the bottle and poured them generous amounts. Carefully, he climbed into the bubbling tub, sat on a submerged ledge beside Lucas, and handed him a glass.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Lucas said, lifting his drink.

  “Same to you,” Brice said.

  The two men tapped glasses and drank. For a long moment, neither said anything, each studying the other in feeble candlelight.

  “Tasty stuff,” Lucas said, taking another sip.

  “It is. Plus this hot water feels great on my back.” Brice rubbed at his lumbar region and groaned.

  “Good. You should take advantage of this tub more often. Good therapy for you. Plus I give a pretty damn good massage.”

  “Yeah? Would you give me a massage sometime? I’d sure appreciate it. Might help me get rid of some of the outed-as-a-scandalous-homosexual stress, you know?”

  “How about right now?” Placing his glass beside the tub, Lucas scooted closer to Brice. “Come sit here between my legs.”

  “Gladly,” Brice said, attempting to sound calm rather than emitting the “Yee-Haw!” of happiness that filled him at such an invitation to touch. He set his glass down too, then slipped over and sat on the lip of the ledge between Lucas’s spread thighs.

  Lucas ran his fingers lightly over Brice’s shoulders and then down Brice’s back. “Man, you’re built. I wish I had half the bulk you do.” Lucas gave Brice’s shoulders a firm kneading before working the balls of his thumbs down either side of Brice’s spine. “I like a guy with some heft on him. You were just too skinny on those CD covers of yours.”

  “Hell, I wish I could get rid of some of this bulk. I’ve always run to fat. I was always having to diet to look good for photo shoots or concerts. I got so fucking tired of protein shakes and rice cakes and salads. My publicist and my manager were constantly nagging me about how I had to fit the Nashville look.”

  “I think you look great, man,” Lucas mu
rmured, resting his bearded chin on Brice’s bare shoulder. Brice trembled, choking back a gasp of incredulous gratitude. “I’ve always liked bigger, older guys, and you ain’t no exception.”

  Lucas’s strong hands begin to rub Brice’s lats. “Maturity is a huge turn-on. Most guys my age are fucking flakes who don’t jack shit about anything. You, you’ve done and seen so much. You’re so burly and handsome.”

  I can’t fucking believe this! “Y-you think I’m handsome?” Brice murmured.

  “I sure do.”

  “Well, that’s pretty sweet news. Most guys your age don’t feel the same, I assure you.”

  “I ain’t most guys my age. Take a fucking compliment, will you?”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Lucas. I think you…I think you have the perfect body. Strong and compact. And, damn, your hands feel really good.”

  “Thanks, man.” Lucas moved his fingers down to Brice’s lower back and began to probe. “You feel damn good too. It’s been a long time since….”

  Lucas trailed off. He found the troublesome joint in Brice’s lower back and kneaded it with increasing pressure.

  “Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah,” Brice groaned. “That’s it. Oh, yeah, please keep that up.”

  Long minutes passed, Lucas humming and Brice grunting and sighing. Finally, Lucas ceased.

  “Hands getting sore. I’m out of practice,” he said.

  “Thank you. That felt just wonderful.” Brice rested his elbows on his knees. “I needed that real, real bad.”

  “Good.” Lucas wrapped his arms around Brice’s waist, pressed his chest against his back, and kissed him on the nape of the neck. “Brice?”

  “Yeah?” Brice said, quietly exultant. God, such precious touch. So long yearned for. A boy so beautiful, nearly naked, his arms around me. Unbelievable. It all seems too good to be true. Against his lower back, he could feel the hard pressure of Lucas’s erection.

  “I…. It feels so good to touch you like this. I haven’t touched anyone since Eric back in prison. I…I’ve been….”

  “Yeah?” Brice took Lucas’s small hands in his and leaned back against him.

  “I’ve been hankering to hold you, to…be with you….”

  Brice squeezed Lucas’s hands. “So…you’re saying my desire for you is…that you… reciprocate those feelings?”

  “Y-yep. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Wow. Well...I’m delighted, but I’m mighty surprised. After—”

  “After me being so distant? Yeah. Well, that act’s over. But…could we please take it slow? Like I told you, after all the shit that happened in prison, I’m real confused, real fucked up. Kinda fragile. I hate to admit it, since you know we country boys are raised to be all strong and stuff, but…sometimes I hurt so bad to be touched. I fucking ache for some strong guy to care for me and to love me and to hold me down and…top me hard…screw me stupid. But then the next minute I think if that were to happen, I’d shake so much I’d shiver into a million pieces. That’s why I fought so hard to keep you at a distance.”

  “Ah, kid….”

  A hot rush of compassion filled Brice’s throat and edged his eyes with tears. He slipped off the ledge, turned, and knelt waist-deep in the steaming water. He took Lucas’s left hand and kissed it. He reached up and stroked Lucas’s bearded cheek. He ran his fingers over the boy’s moist hair.

  “I understand. At least I think I do. Of course we can take it slow. As slow as you want.”

  “You won’t get impatient? You won’t get tired of waiting and leave for greener pastures?” Voice hoarse, Lucas squeezed Brice’s hand. “I know you said you want me, and I want you too, but it might take a little time for me to…to be ready for more than… kissing and cuddling. After how I was treated in prison…those groups of guys…before Eric took me under his wing…. And even then, the way Eric beat me all the damn time…. God, I’m so ashamed.”

  “Hey!” Brice rose, sat beside the boy, and wrapped an arm around him. “You don’t have any goddamn reason to be ashamed. What could you do? No matter how strong a man is, there’s always gonna be someone stronger. And no matter how strong a man is, he’s no match for a gang, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Lucas, trembling, slipped an arm around Brice’s waist and leaned his head on the bigger man’s shoulder.

  “As for me leaving, honestly, I can’t imagine greener pastures.” Brice fondled the metal hoop in Lucas’s left ear. “I think you’re one of the most desirable men I’ve ever met, and the fact that you’ve gone through so much, that you’ve suffered and that we’re both at dark, lonely times in our lives, all that just makes me feel closer to you, even though we haven’t spent all that much time together.”

  Again Brice took Lucas’s hand and kissed it. “Look, I’m not a patient man by nature. Honestly, I’ve been fighting the urge ever since I got here to grab you up and carry you to bed like some kind of crazy caveman. I’d like to make love to you till we’re both sweat-soaked and sore.”

  “I’d…I’d like that too. I really would. Eventually.”

  “Eventually sounds good to me. You’re more than worth the wait.” Brice shook his head and laughed low in his throat. “I still can’t believe that we met, that we’re here together. To have been through all the bullshit of the last few months, then to come to this beautiful place and to meet a handsome guy like you…it’s like God’s answered my prayers.”

  “Thanks,” Lucas said, grinning weakly. “I’ve been praying too. I’ve been praying for years, in and out of prison, that I’d meet a strong man who’d—”

  “Who’d take care of you and cherish you?”

  “Yeah. Something like that. Does that sound silly?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s probably kinda premature to say this, but I think you’ve met that man, Lucas. I’ve gotten real fond of you already, dangerously fond, and I intend to stay here as long as you want me to and to spend as much time with you as possible…and see what happens between us. Okay?”

  Lucas nodded slowly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  “Going slow will be frustrating for me, but it’ll be good for me too. It’s about damn time I lived my life differently. In the past, as I told you the other day, most of my experiences with men were quick, meaningless, anonymous fucks with guys I’d just met, didn’t know, and would most likely never see again. With Zac, it was more than that, but I wasn’t ready for more. I’m ready for more now. Yep, let’s take it slow and see if what we’re feeling for each other is something real, something that’ll last, something….”

  Lucas kissed Brice on the cheek and ran a hand over his furry chest. “Something to…something to maybe found some kinda future on?”

  “Yeah. Exactly. Lucas?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you need to feel safe with me. Safe and in control. You’re welcome to initiate anything at any time, ‘cause I’m ready for anything, hot as you are. There’s probably nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn’t be willing to give. But me…I’m going to ask your permission before I start any kind of intimacy. All right?”

  Lucas sighed. “That sounds great. That sounds just right. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So, may I kiss you now? A real kiss? A deep kiss?”

  “Yeah. I’m ready for that.”

  “C’mere then.”

  Brice pulled Lucas close. Lucas took a deep breath and smiled. Brice kissed him lightly, then harder, slipping his tongue into the younger man’s mouth and probing gently. Lucas groaned and nodded, opening his lips to Brice’s eager tongue. Brice ran his hands over the boy’s lean sides, up over his smooth back, across his fuzzy chest. As much as he yearned to take the boy’s prick in his fist or his ass-cheeks in his hands, he limited his explorations to above the waist.

  “That feels so good,” Lucas sighed against Brice’s lips. “You’re so gentle. I need gentle real bad.” Lucas stroked Brice’s thick beard and squeezed his beefy biceps.

  “Then gentle’s what you’re
gonna get.” Brice tugged at Lucas’s neck-chains and fooled with Lucas’s chest hair. It was as he was sliding a palm across Lucas’s ribs that he felt the low, thin ridges of coarse skin.

  Lucas stiffened and pulled away. “That’s enough. Let’s take a break, okay?”

  “Sure,” Brice said, concealing his disappointment and alarm.

  Lucas scooted back a few inches along the seat. He filled up their champagne flutes, handed Brice his glass, and took a swig from his own. He avoided Brice’s eyes, gazing into the bubbling water of the tub.

  Brice took a tart gulp of Prosecco, doing his best to act casual. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

  “My scars. You touched ‘em.” Lucas grimaced. “I got ‘em in prison. They’re ugly.”

  “There isn’t anything ugly about you, Lucas. Scars aren’t ugly. Hell, we’re all scarred, past a certain point in life, either inside or out. Scars are just evidence of history, of how hard life can be. They’re proof that we’ve survived. Still, I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  “No problem. Not your fault. I just….” Lucas drained his glass. “I overreacted, as usual. You see what kinda mess you’re dealing with? Sure you’re not having second thoughts about getting involved with me?”

  “No second thoughts. And I don’t see any kind of mess. I see a super-handsome young man who’s damaged by the hard times he’s had to endure, just like most of us. You’re stubborn and strong and resilient, far as I’m concerned. Sorta heroic, to have survived what you have.”

  “Heroic? I sure don’t feel heroic.” Lucas slipped off the ledge and submerged himself to the neck. “The scars are just reminders I carry around and can’t get away from. They take me back to prison. I got waylaid a few months before I was released. Six of the bastards. With shivs. Damn scars still ache sometimes. When it rains, when it’s cold out. Eric, he….

  “Oh, fuck it.” Lucas submerged completely. He burst back up with a gasp. He shook wet off his head, grabbed Brice’s hands, and pulled him to his feet.