Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  The phone was ringing against his ear before he even realised he’d dialled it. And he hadn’t called Seamus’s Skype number, he’d called his cell number—like the very first day. As that cool accent filled the line, the Rabbit Hills Beginner’s Trail disappeared, and there was only Seamus Williams and Chancey Clearwater.

  Chancey fell back from the group he was guiding, hoping they were smart enough not to jump over the bright pink ropes on either side of the trail. If they headed onward, they would eventually make it back to the stables.

  “Who is he, Seamus?” Chancey asked darkly, the jealousy he’d been feeling for weeks boiling up and over. “Are you sleeping with him? And don’t even bother feeding me some bullshit story. Just tell me like it is.”

  “What is this?” Seamus replied, immediately on the defensive. “Who is ‘he’ who? And I’m not sleepin’ with no one but me dog. Not that it’s any of your business. If ye think on, you’re the one can’t be bothered to meet up with me.”

  “Meetin’ up with you and being with you are two different things.”

  “That’s the most idiotic, is what it is, Chance. I’m gonna be in the States. I want to see you.” His voice dropped. “I want to hold you. Why wouldn’t you want the same?”

  “I do want the same, idiot.”

  “Right. So you refuse to meet me and you’re out kissin’ old ladies in some honky-tonk.”

  Chancey stiffened. “How do you kno… No, you know what? That ain’t right and that innit what happened.” Fuck, his accent was out of control. Grandma must be rolling over in her grave. “I’m not going to justify myself to you. Not until you tell me who that kid was coming into your house at three in the morning.”

  “Kid?”

  It was too damn much. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a jealous old fool. He wanted to knock back a row of shots, or take the horse out to the edges of Tina’s land and skinny-dip in his pond, or ride the mechanical bull down at C&P, or damn it all, just leave. Just head right on into the sunset. Maybe straight into the sun itself.

  “You mean Michael?” Seamus asked quietly.

  Don’t do that, Chancey wanted to say. Don’t be tender about him. You’re killing me.

  “Right, Michael. He even of age?”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Seamus demanded, and Chancey was relieved on some level to see Shay’s temper flare back up. He could handle the fight. He wasn’t ready for the sweet letdown. He was too angry to just drop it.

  “I’m askin’ if you’re beddin’ a sixteen-year-old, Seamus?”

  “Jesus, Chance! You can’t honestly—” He half-roared like an angry bear. “He’s one of the workers I oversee. Came out to me about a month ago. His stepdad kicked ’im out of the house for being gay. Kid watches a lot of telly, eats a lot of cornflakes, and keeps a tidy house—and I have zero sexual interest in him, Chancey. Not now, not ever!”

  Relief tried to fight the adrenaline pumping through Chancey’s hot veins.

  “Yeah, well, Boss Tina kissed me—as a joke—not the other way around, and the second she did, I put a stop to it,” he growled. “So stop listenin’ to gossipy old ranch hands who don’t have anything better to do than give you misinformation about what goes on at the C&P.”

  He muttered something more, the heart of what he’d really needed to say all along.

  “What was that?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Say it.”

  “I don’t want you to laugh, you damn sonofabitch.”

  “Do I sound like I’m laughing?”

  There was no humour in Seamus’s tone—but maybe a touch of his own relief.

  “I’d considered us exclusive, all right? So of course I wasn’t going to stand by and let Tina kiss me. But in the spirit of transparency, she’s a wild dancer.”

  “That some sort of euphemism for sex, is it?”

  “You know it ain’t.”

  “Good. Be with me, Chancey, or don’t—I don’t do halfway. Not with you. So no Tina, no Kaylee, no random hook-ups with guys you get drunk with at Rack ’Em,”

  “Yeah, that was just you, ‘eejit’.” Chancey said. “You aren’t sleeping with him, then? Mr. Cornflakes?”

  “Chancey, I swear to you, there hasn’t been a single person since you and me and our night together.”

  “For me either.”

  He could hear it again—Seamus’s smile. This was the Seamus Chancey knew.

  “Now for the love of God would you please get somewhere where we can video chat? It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen you naked and I’m about to explode.”

  Chapter Nineteen:

  Over the Pond

  It was one hell of an idea, Seamus had to admit, but wasn’t it already convoluted enough, this whole cyber nonsense? Never mind the frustration of relying on his memory and imagination to fill in the details—not that there’d been much opportunity for embellishment the last time. Just the vision of Chancey’s broad chest half-covered by his shirt, and then the jeans flicking open, his hand straight to his cock and the demand that Seamus follow his lead—was it any wonder they were done in less time than it took to boil the kettle?

  That chest, Jaysus. He remembered a drunken conversation with Paddy years back, or at least, he remembered parts of it, when they were ‘comparing notes’, and Paddy was trying, quite graphically, to convince Seamus that a well-toned set of thickly haired pecs topped with small flat nipples hands down beat a good round pair of knockers—Paddy’s words. Seamus was always a little more…romantic, or porny, he couldn’t quite decide, but they were breasts. Beautiful, soft, delicious breasts. How could having some feller’s chest hair tickling your nose possibly compare to nuzzling in a woman’s cleavage? How was the stink of a man’s sweat and all that body hair ever going to be a match for a woman’s heady perspiration?

  Admittedly, there had been boys, and then men, who had at varying times over the years between Colm and Chancey, turned Seamus’s head. He’d never denied the attraction; it just so happened that the ones he’d ended up with were always women. And on the occasions when he’d overheard the ‘legs or breast’ discussions, he’d thought to himself depends on what’s between the legs. He wasn’t really that shallow, and it depended on a bit more besides, like…well, if he liked them, how well they got on outside the bedroom—the longer term relationship stuff, he supposed. But until he fell for Chance, that part hadn’t mattered so much; nor had he been close enough to a man to find out if there was any truth to Paddy’s claim.

  It was safe to say, thanks to Chancey Clearwater, Seamus now understood very intimately that the musk of a hairy man was one hell of a turn on, and while he wasn’t going to refuse a night of online passion, he wanted to be physically close to Chance. Not wanted. Needed. So hard he ached. Just to get his hands on that firm butt, haul him in and grind cock against cock, until Chance was bucking, wild and out of control, and the climax… If the fantasy had been on tape he’d have worn the thing out by now, because two weeks of raging had also been two weeks of imagining slamming Chance up against a wall and fucking him stupid. Now Seamus knew it was all over a silly misunderstanding, he still wanted to fuck Chancey stupid.

  So, the online sex show and solo hand job would have to suffice, although privacy was a scarce commodity, what with Dee always there at Chancey’s end, and Michael at his place for the foreseeable future. Mike’s stepdad was one stubborn old bastard; even his mam threatening divorce wasn’t enough to make him reconsider.

  It was unlikely that Michael would walk into Seamus’s bedroom without knocking—he had no reason to go in there at all—but it still felt too open to potential intrusion. Chancey had told him to go somewhere with water—a pond or a stream, he suggested, to which Seamus had laughed out loud. He wasn’t averse to the cold weather, but skinny-dipping in Omagh at any time of year was a ball-shriveller, never mind on a late-September night. No. The bathroom would have to do; it had a lock, and he could stick some music on to disguise what
they were getting up to.

  When the designated hour came, Michael was holed up in his favourite armchair, a mixing bowl full of cornflakes in his lap, and back-to-back crime shows on the TV. Seamus collected his laptop and iPod, and said, hoping to sound casual, “Going for a bath.”

  Michael grunted an ‘OK’ around a mouthful of cereal, the spoon preloaded and hovering, ready for dispatch, all this without taking his eyes off the TV. Seamus took a steadying breath and left his young lodger to his telly programmes.

  Seamus took his time, gathering everything he thought he might need, and then locked himself and his haul in the bathroom. Since Chancey’s call, he’d had an almost constant hard-on from trying to guess what Chance had planned for them. His mind filled with visions of the man standing naked under a waterfall, arms raised as he smoothed his hair back from his face, the water cascading from his chin, elbows and cock.

  It took a great deal of effort to push the image away, and he’d done so by focusing on the logistics: if he was in the bath, where the hell was he supposed to put the laptop? He couldn’t very well hold it, and if he put it on the end of the bath it would topple into the water. There’d be no power, so it wouldn’t electrocute him, but it cost way too much money to be destroyed by a spot of careless kinkiness.

  He considered his options while he waited for the bath to fill, concluding the only place was on the toilet seat lid: he put it down and set the laptop on it, stepping away to check the view. It looked like it could work. Seamus stripped off and climbed into the bath. He’d have to get out to answer Chancey’s call, but the anticipation had him hard again, and he was tempted to quickly knock one out beforehand. That way, he might stand a chance of lasting more than five minutes. But he’d waited this long. What was a few minutes more?

  The call came, and Seamus put one foot on the floor, cupping his erection with his hand as best he could in case Chancey had company, and stretched across just far enough to click the trackpad. Chancey’s face appeared on-screen.

  “Hey,” he said, taking in the view.

  “All right, Chance?” Seamus greeted.

  “Whatcha hidin’ there, Shay?”

  Chance’s voice sounded deeper and more husky than usual. He eyed Seamus up and down, and Seamus moved his hand away. Chance sucked his teeth and nodded in appreciation.

  “Where are ye?” Seamus asked, squinting, as if it would help him to figure out Chancey’s location.

  “A pond at the far side of Tina’s. I often think about bringing you here. It’s quiet and secluded. No one else comes out this far.”

  “It looks like you’re on your laptop.”

  “Yeah. I am.” Chancey held up his phone. “Wi-fi hotspot.”

  “Oh, right. Gotcha. The fella who sold me mine said something about that. Clever stuff.”

  “Nah. Not really if an idiot like me can do it.”

  “You’re not an eejit,” Seamus countered. Chancey raised an eyebrow in response. “So you’re in the buff, are ye?” Again, Seamus squinted to try and see more than Chance’s bare shoulders. Chancey rose slowly, the laptop camera capturing first the expanse of thick, dark hair across his chest, following it down as it narrowed, to his navel, the strip of bare skin from where the friction of his jeans waistband had rubbed away the hair, his pubes and finally his solid cock. Seamus drooled a little. God, what he wouldn’t give to have that in his mouth right about now.

  The action reversed, and Chancey’s face appeared again. “What d’you think? Like what you see?”

  “Aye, you could say that.”

  Chancey grinned smugly. It was one of the things Seamus found so damned irresistible about him. Chancey knew he was a looker. Seamus had seen photos of him when he was younger—he’d checked out his year book—and he was handsome as a lad. Even in his thirties—his wedding photo—he was male model material, but in his forties? Fuck, he was to die for.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “You’re hot property.”

  Chancey rubbed his chin, as if to check whether he needed a shave, which he did, but he was better still with the stubble. “Am I?” he asked.

  “Oh God, yes,” Seamus groaned. His hand had found its way to his cock, and he was working it, slowly and steadily, trying to hold on.

  “I’m your hot property, Shay. In case you doubt it.”

  “No. I trust ye.”

  “Good.” Chancey’s gaze strayed from Seamus’s face, but he wouldn’t have been able to see much else; the bath was in the way.

  “What are we doing, then?” Seamus asked.

  “Jerk off for me.”

  He didn’t need telling twice. He clambered to his knees, steadying himself with his thighs against the edge of the bath. He gripped his cock in his fist and reinstated the same careful, steady motion as before.

  “I want to watch you come, Shay.”

  “Aren’t you goin’ join me?”

  Chancey shook his head, his attention fully on Seamus’s hand and cock. He rested his elbows on the sandy bank in front of him, and he licked his lips as he briefly glanced up at Seamus’s face. Lust had turned Chancey’s eyes dark and wild.

  “In my mind I’m sucking your cock. Taking your full length and swallowing you down. Squeezing my lips tight on your shaft and working you, hard and fast, and you grab my hair and ram your cock right down my throat. I love it when you fuck my mouth like that, Shay.”

  Seamus’s legs started to wobble, and he grabbed the lip of the bath with his free hand. He was going to blow. One more filthy word from Chancey’s dirty mouth, and—

  “One last shove, and you’re mine, Shay. You lose it and slam into me over and over. I feel your cum hit the roof of my mouth, spurt after spurt, and it tastes so good. So fucking good.”

  “Ah, shit,” Seamus grunted as the wave of the orgasm grabbed him.

  “That’s it, Shay. Lemme see you come.”

  He came so hard it completely missed the bath, once, twice, three times, the fourth and last dropping into the water in which he was kneeling. As he finally shuddered to a stop, he peered down at the floor. “I’m going to have to wash the bathmat,” he complained and laughed a little from embarrassment. Chancey laughed too, a deep rumble full of undisguised desire. “Your turn,” Seamus said.

  “Nah. Gonna wait a while. Give you time to recover, then we’ll go again, together.”

  Seamus was getting cold, and he settled back into the water. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “I owed you an apology.”

  “No, you didn’t. It was my fault for not asking you straight out.”

  “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry, Shay. Truly. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “No. Me neither. I’m sorry too. So…” He tried to keep a straight face. “Is she any good? Tina, I mean?”

  Chancey frowned and rubbed at his hair. “I did push her off, you know.”

  Seamus grinned. “I know. I was winding ye up.”

  “Yeah, well. Dee wasn’t too happy about it.”

  “Aye. I got that from her message.”

  “What message?”

  “On Facebook. You didn’t know?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Oh.” Seamus had assumed it was Dee’s message that prompted Chancey’s drunken call two weeks ago.

  “Anyway, Dee’s hankering after the dream of her parents getting back together.” Chancey looked away from the screen and stared off into the distance, treating Seamus to a moody profile view. He turned back again and offered a lopsided smile. “Ain’t never gonna happen. I’m committed to you. To us. You know that, right?”

  “Hm,” Seamus answered, and then, realising he sounded doubtful, quickly followed up with a nod. No doubts, more an overwhelming sense of good luck. How in God’s name had he managed to snag Chancey Clearwater? “So you’ll be hangin’ up your Most Eligible Bachelor Stetson, with ye, Chance?”

  Chancey laughed bashfully and mimed taking off his hat and setting it to
one side. “For you, Shay, anything. Just don’t…”

  Seamus waited for him to finish. “Don’t what?”

  “I was gonna say don’t leave without saying goodbye next time.” He met Seamus’s gaze and held it. “Just don’t leave.”

  Much as he was tempted to joke that they were already four thousand miles apart, Seamus got the message. Sometime further down the line, they’d need to think more about how to shrink the distance. For now, it was enough to have committed to each other. Seamus smiled. “Exclusively yours, Chairn-si Bow Clearrrwarder.” The accent was so appalling that Seamus burst into laughter before he’d finished speaking, and Chancey was laughing too. “Speaking of clear water?”

  For a moment Chancey frowned and then said, “Ah. Yeah. I got this little idea in my head involves you, me and this pond here. I been swimming here for years. Nothin’ like a cool dip at the end of a long, hot day.”

  “And no one’s ever caught you?”

  “I don’t come here when the cows are over on this side. The rest of the time? Nope.”

  “Right.”

  Something about Chancey’s presence changed, and Seamus’s heart sped up as he registered that round two was about to commence. His cock was a couple of seconds behind, but it soon caught up, and he rolled his pelvis, lifting his balls to free them from between his thighs. Turning back to the laptop screen, he saw Chancey tip the last dregs from a beer bottle, which he kept in his hand, staring at it like he expected it to suddenly refill itself. Or that’s what it looked like, until he put the neck of the bottle to his mouth again and slowly slid it inside, his lips widening to accommodate the increase in diameter as the entire neck disappeared from view. Pulling it out slowly, he made firm eye contact with Seamus, at the same time licking the bottle and brushing it over his lips.

  “I miss having you inside me, Shay.”

  Seamus nodded. He had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth. Chancey leaned forward and shifted his laptop, leaving a little more space between it and the edge of the pond. He stood and lifted one leg out of the water, planting his foot firmly on the bank. “You see OK?” he asked.