by BA Tortuga
“You know me.” Josh held him there, a sound like a sob low on the air. Then Josh started rocking up against him.
“Jeans, now, Josh.” Josh wasn’t trashy. Kris knew that, and it made him sad that Josh thought Kris felt that way.
“Sounds like a plan.” Josh grabbed his belt, working the buckle like a master.
Kris sucked in his breath so Josh could undo the button of his Wranglers. Then he went after Josh’s belt.
Damn, the skinny jeans were tight, molding to Josh’s lean muscles. Kris peeled them open as much as he could, grunting when Josh’s cock poked up against the soft boxers. He got a handful of thick, fine prick, managing to get the elastic band about three-quarters of the way down Josh’s shaft.
“Fuck, baby. You feel good.”
“I do. Don’t tease, Kris. Touch me.”
“No teasing. Lift up so we can get naked.” He let go of his prize just long enough to let Josh push away so they could both shimmy off their jeans and kick out of their boots.
The sight of his Lucchese ostriches fallen next to Josh’s ancient Docs actually made his heart clench. They’d shared a closet together once where those boots had sat side by side, and they probably never would again.
“Stop thinking, cowboy. It’s not going to do either one of us any good. Sex may have been the only thing we ever did right together. Let’s stick with that.”
He nodded, pulling Josh back to him. “I know. I’m trying. I surely am.”
“I hear you.” Josh tasted like tears when their lips met again.
Kris pushed in and licked, his tongue tangling with Josh’s. There. That was what he needed. Contact, not worry. Lust and need and the fire that was theirs, no matter what.
Josh grabbed their pricks, holding them together, hand dragging up to the tips and down to the roots. Kris felt his toes curl, and he grunted, his belly rippling with pleasure.
“Mm-hmm.” Josh chuckled, repeating the action, and Kris’s abs clenched.
“Feels just right.” He flicked his fingers against the head of Josh’s cock, just visible above Josh’s thumb.
Josh jumped, licked his lips. “Fuck me, that’s good.”
“Mmm. So pretty. Love the color of your skin.”
“Love….” Josh shut himself up by pushing up, kissing him hard, hand moving faster, squeezing harder.
Kris rocked up and down, his ass clenching, his balls pulling up. He wanted to draw this out, but he knew he was so close.
Josh fucked his lips like a madman, driving them together furiously. That tongue and those hands were relentless, Josh never letting up on him. They flew high and fast, and Kris touched every bit of skin he could.
Josh sobbed, bucking hard, offering him every single thing he could ever ask for.
They fought toward orgasm, but this one they could fight for together, instead of battering against each other. Josh tightened his fingers and a low cry sounded, muffled in their kiss.
Hell, yeah.
Josh’s thumbnail scraped the flared edge of his cockhead, and that sting drove Kris over the edge. Boom. He shouted, clinging to Josh like a desperate cowboy holding on to the saddle, riding a horse into a thunderstorm. Josh held him through the whole thing, all the way ’til the aftershocks were fading.
“Jesus Christ, it smells like tomcats in here. Put your fucking pants on.”
Kris bolted upright and almost dislodged Josh, his hands landing on Josh’s ass with a loud smack. “Shit, Tyna! Don’t you fucking knock?”
“I didn’t think I had to. I never had to before.” His sister was bright red, and Josh grabbed his jeans, yanked them up, and shoved his boxers and vest to one side before tossing Kris his jeans.
Kris slid into his jeans, nodded at Josh, and then went to grab Tyna’s arm. He hustled her into the back of the house, into the den off the back of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, asshole. You sold that land in Wimberley out from under me. You fucking knew I wanted it.”
“I got a good price.” He stared at her, arms crossed over his chest. “I also got a trade. Three acres in Giddings with highway frontage.”
He hadn’t fucked her over. He hadn’t. He fucking loved her psychotic self.
She glared right back. “Are you going to pretend that you were trying to do me a favor?”
“Yes. That land in Wimberley would flood you out if it ever rains.” Kris straightened, gearing up for a fight. “I’m sick of everyone accusing me of doing every fucking thing I do to make more money and nothing else! I’ve taken care of your ass all my damned life. I do what’s expected of me, don’t I? Get the fuck off my back.”
“Christ, Topher, what crawled up your ass and died? And taken care of me? Hello? Between you and the Judge, y’all think I’m a worthless pair of tits that isn’t pretty enough to marry the right kind of guy! Hell, you know, I’m getting on up there. If I don’t find someone to take care of me soon, I might not even give the crusty bastard grandbabies!”
Kris’s eyebrow arched, and he knew he shouldn’t, but he did. “His new girlfriend has a couple that already call him Pappy. Don’t stress it.”
Her eyes flashed, just as green as his and twice as furious. “Fuck you, asshole. You just got off with Josh the Drunk. I thought you’d given up on him, or at least he’d gone away when the gravy train disappeared!”
“He’s not a drunk!” To be fair, he added, “Not anymore. Damn it, Tyna, I’m tired of fighting all the damned time. I don’t want to be that jerk.”
“Then stop! I don’t want to fight either. I just want….” The tears started flowing, and she slapped them away. “Fuck it. How much do you want for the fucking acreage?”
“You want the going rate or what I need to get out of it to make up its part of the trade?” He held up a hand when she actually growled at him like a hunting cat. “I need thirty thousand. The going worth right now is fifty-four, which gives you a tidy profit if you sell, or gives you an idea how much you can borrow against it for improvements.” Yeah, so he was always a businessman. Sue him.
“I don’t want to sell. I want to get the fuck out of my life and find a new one. Clear enough. I’ll write you a check for it, right now.” She grabbed her purse, dumping it as she tried to get into it.
Kris grabbed her hands, making her stop and look at him. “Tell me? I’ll tell you my tale of woe. I just ate enough pancakes to kill a gorilla, but I have ice cream in the freezer and a spoon.”
“Go wash your nasty penis hands and be nice to your… company. I’ll dig out bowls and spoons.”
“Shit.” He turned on his heel and ran to the front room, but Kris knew it was too late before he got there. Josh was gone.
Goddamn it.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
Then again, nothing in the last few months had gone the way Kris needed it to, so why did he expect anything to change? He guessed he’d worked off enough pancakes with sex. He’d get that ice cream and two spoons. Kris headed back to the kitchen after he grabbed his shirt and tugged it on.
He needed to know what was wrong with his baby sister and see how to fix it.
She’d pulled out the bowls and the chocolate chip. “Everything okay?”
“He left. So, no. I mean, this was our last booty call, according to him. Chance meeting.” He slid onto a barstool at the little bar between the kitchen and den. “What’s up with you?”
“I hate the new position. I have a bleeding ulcer. I haven’t not had a headache in eight months, and I want out.”
“Out of what?”
“All of it. Wearing hose to work, having to get eyelash extensions, being asked twenty times a week if I’m a dyke.”
Kris blinked at her for a long moment. “Well, are you?”
“Fuck you.” The tears came back, the storm raging.
Dude. That was… interesting. “What’s her name?”
“I said fuck off.”
“No, you said ‘fuck you.’ I
said, ‘what’s her name.’” He’d been paying attention. That was one of his superpowers, after all. Remembering what was said.
“Topher, drop it.”
“Nope. No way. Please tell me she’s not at work so you can still see her when you quit.”
“She’s a stock contractor, runs a huge operation.”
“No shit! Down near Daddy?” Damn, Sam. His sister falling for a country girl.
“Closer to San Antonio. God, what am I going to tell him? He wants grandbabies.”
“Get a friend and a turkey baster.”
“Kristopher Addison Cerny!”
Kris cackled. “What you’ll tell him is that lesbians are three times as likely to qualify for adoptions than they were a decade ago. Statistically, you’re far more likely than me to have some kind of progeny, even if you’re getting all the pussy I’m not.”
One eyebrow arched. “Given that you currently are spunky, you have zero room to mock, fudge packer.”
Kris cackled. “So are you going to start selling smoked brisket and jalapeno jelly on the side of the road?”
“I want to take a year off and breathe, figure out what I’m going to do. She wants me to move in with her, travel. Just go.” She ate a bite of ice cream, licking it off the spoon. “Seriously. She wants to take me everywhere, show me off.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Deb. Not Debbie, just Deb.”
He grinned over. “Very dykey. I approve.”
“Fuck you, gay boy.”
“You’re losing your touch, Sis. That’s the best you can do?” Besides, focusing on her meant he wasn’t calling Josh.
“Well, there’s always the obvious. Why did I walk in on you doing the dirty with the ex? I mean, Topher, he’s not good for you.”
“He’s a good man.” That seemed important, to make her understand. “I’m the fucked-up one.”
Tyna shook her head. “He’s an alcoholic. What’s wrong with him can’t be fixed. We lived through that once already; I don’t want you to have to do it again.”
Kris got that. He did. Hell, he wasn’t going to have to live through anything. Josh was really done with him this time. He believed it. “He’s been sober for years, though. Years. He never even told me he was in AA.”
“Good for him.” He almost growled, and she held up her hand. “Seriously. Good for him. I hope he never fucks up. I know he won’t mess with you if you’re not there when he falls off the wagon, though.”
“So your Deb doesn’t drink?” He knew that wasn’t fair, but he needed her to understand that not everything was as black and white as they’d always thought.
“She has a beer every now and again, but she’s not a drunk. I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m your sister. I worry.”
“I know.” He went to her and hugged her before stealing some ice cream. “I just—I did him dirty, Tyna. I really did, and it wasn’t fair, and I hate myself for it.”
She looked at him, lips tight, and then she filled a bowl for him. “Well, I guess you should apologize.” At his surprised look, Tyna shrugged, using her whole body to do it. “Seriously. If it’s that big, that bad, then tell him you’re sorry and move on or move away or whatever you have to do, but don’t be hating on yourself. That causes cancer and headaches and probably weight gain.”
“At the very least.” Something stirred in his soul at her words, but he’d have to examine it later. Knowing his luck, it was the swamp thing stirring the primordial ooze. He dug into his ice cream. “So, tell me about Deb. Don’t leave anything out. I’ll know.”
21
“Cy. Calm down, man. You’re stressing yourself to death, and the doors don’t open for half an hour.” Josh’s head was fixin’ to pop like an overfilled balloon. Bang.
The place looked great, the lights making the artwork sing, and the whole room full of pottery and paint made him miss Madrid like mad. Josh could only imagine how Cy felt.
Cypress tugged at his hair, which made it stand up even more a la Edward Scissorhands. “I can’t do this, Josh.”
“All you have to do is stand still and be pretty. Hell, you don’t even have to do that, you just have to be here for half an hour.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He blamed Kris for this. He’d had a headache since Tyna had walked in on them yesterday. How weird and awkward was that whole mess? Fitting, really.
“I’m gonna puke.” Cypress swayed, tugging at his lower lip.
“No puking. Come on, man. Let’s go wash your face, huh?” He gave Danny a panicked look over Cy’s shoulder.
Danny did some sort of interpretive dance that clearly meant get him off the floor, and went to flutter over the bacon-wrapped jalapenos and Elgin sausage pigs in a blanket.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Easy. Easy. This is your first showing in a gallery outside of New Mexico, yeah?”
“I don’t go to them. I hate lights.”
“Dude. You live where the sun is, like, huge. Like this giant ball of glowing doom.”
“Joy,” Cy corrected.
“Doom. Joy. Six of one, half dozen of the other.”
Cy slumped down on the closed toilet seat. “I can’t listen to people talk about my work and watch them squint through their fingers, and it’s never quiet here. People think so hard about everything!”
“I know, right?” At his words, Cy looked up, obviously shocked. “I mean, I never noticed it before I was up with you, but there’s always noise here. I’m not even making a judgment call or anything, I’m just saying.”
“Oh.” Cy looked very small suddenly. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He had been going for totally comforting.
“I’m fucking things up. I do that.”
“Want to know a secret, man? I’m the fucking king of lost causes.”
Cypress gave him a ghost of a smile. “Half an hour, huh?”
“Thirty minutes. I’ve been known to ride a bike that long, even though the seat squished my balls.”
A loud snort echoed in the tiny bathroom, and Cy nodded. “Give me a hand. This is the lowest toilet ever.”
“I know, right. You get down on it and it’s like you’re about to give birth.”
“Ew.” Cypress levered up with his help before splashing water on his face. “I might need resuscitation after this.”
“It’s a deal. I’ll even feed you gingerbread pancakes.” Just make it through so I don’t go down as a total loser, man. Please. I need this shit so bad.
He was already having to look at people all night long who knew they were closing because he couldn’t make it work. Josh grinned a little. Danny, at least, was telling everyone Kris was a prick who’d sold the building out from under him.
Danny had his back. Hell, Danny already had another job at Janey’s gallery. He started a week from Monday.
“Ah, Josh. Marie is here from the Statesman. Cy, come help me with the pineapple chunks.” Danny steered Cypress toward the food.
“Hey, Marie, honey. How the hell are you?” He went in for a hug, the junior reporter a fellow Longhorn.
“Doing good, Josh. You look great!”
“Busy hands, happy hands, and all that happy crappy.”
“Yeah, well, it sucks that this is the best show you’ve had in three years at least and it’s the last.” She pulled a face, but patted his back.
“Yeah.” And fuck you very much, along with the horse you rode in on. “It’s how life works.”
“I’m sorry. That was crass, huh?” She chuckled. “So point me toward wine and the best pieces here tonight.”
“Wine is over there at the bar, and I love these, particularly. I love the way that Cypress draws the sunlight from the painting into the pottery. The use of color steals my breath away.”
“I like it. I’ll use it.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll call Monday to run everything by you.”
“Thanks, honey.” He could totally use a drink. Totally. He would ha
ve a Coke.
A real, sugary Coke. He was a motherfucking rebel.
“Grinning like a monkey.” Danny poked him. “Are we ready to open the doors?”
“Oh yeah. Totally. Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, shall we?” After all, Kris wasn’t even here.
“Sounds good. Sell all the things!” Danny hugged him tight.
He wasn’t going to cry. No way. He was going to hold his head high and take this belly flop for all he could. Josh grinned. “I feel like I’m on Bar Rescue. Open the doors!”
For the next half hour, he was as busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking competition. At one point he saw how many paintings and pots already had Sold signs on them, and he did a wee jig, tickled as a pig in shit.
Naturally, as soon as he caught his breath, he turned around just in time to see Kris walk through the door.
Christ. His mouth went dry as Madrid dust. Kris wasn’t decked out in old man cowboy business tonight. No, he wore Wranglers, boots, cowboy hat, and this urban chic cowboy T-shirt in dark gray shot through with silver. Stunning.
He wet his lips as people flocked to Kris, wanting to know the whens and whys and hows. Josh moved to the back of the room, back to where the paintings he’d put out hung. They had Sold signs on them, and that gave him a surge of pride, even in a sea of ending.
Kris waded through the crowd, stopping to chat, but unerringly finding Josh, even if he was hiding a bit. “How’s Cypress holding up?” Kris asked.
“He’s….”
As if Kris’s words conjured him, Cypress’s voice rang out, high and reedy, more than a little hysterical. “Shut up! All of you jabbering monkeys stop touching me and shut the fuck up!”
Josh stared as Cy started shaking, the man’s face going from bright red to damn near gray in a matter of a few heartbeats.
“Kris? Kris, come on!”
He wasn’t sure exactly what the ever-loving fuck was going on, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t good.
Kris sprinted and managed to get there ahead of Josh, just in time to catch Cypress when he fell, his hazel eyes rolling back in his head.