by Sean Michael
He gave her one last kiss and headed into the barn. “What needs doing, cowboy?”
“I've got this, Yankee. Why don't you go love on your girl? I don't want to tire you out any.”
“I just got out of bed, Trey and you've been working since dawn. I can do a bit of work.”
“Well then, why don't you fill up the water tub for them, that needs doing.” Oh, yeah. Hard work. Turn on the hose, hold it.
“Sure glad I can take this onerous task off your shoulders.”
He got a long, quiet look, then Trey went right back to work, shoulders hunching in his flannels. Oh man, now he felt guilty. For trying to help! He filled the rest of the trough and turned off the water with a growl.
If Trey wouldn't tell him what needed doing he could damned well find his own chores. He bet those stupid nanny goats needed feeding, new hay laid down for them. Trey had already cleaned the goat pens, but they all needed food, the nannies coming up and bleating at him, nibbling his shirt. “Get away from me you mangy beasts.”
He pushed them out of the way and started laying down the feed.
“There's not a one of them that has mange.” Trey's voice sounded and the beasts went crazy, bouncing and bleating and pushing. He shook his head. They just loved Trey. Of course he couldn't blame them, his cowboy was something special. “Y'all settle down and be good.” Trey's hands brushed over hard little heads, handing over tiny carrots.
“You are the cutest thing.”
Trey snorted. “You'd best be talking about the goats.”
“No, I'm talking about their leader, the one with the amazing ass in the tight Wranglers.”
Trey blushed, shook his head. “I'm not sure Goat King suits me, Yankee...”
He looked around at the goats trying to get to Trey. “If the boot fits...”
“You watch it, stud, or my boot's going to meet your ass.” Trey gave him a wide grin, a wink.
“Well at least then you wouldn't be treating me with kid gloves.”
Trey's grin faded almost immediately, eyes hidden under the wide-brimmed hat. “Sorry. I'm going to finish the stalls. Holler if you need me.”
Aw shit. “Trey ... I'm sorry.” And why was he apologizing? Trey *was* treating him with kid gloves.
“Damn it, Trey, I'm helping you whether you want me to or not.” He grabbed a pitchfork and started mucking out one of the stalls.
Trey's hands fell over his. “Please, Russ. You need your rest. You've only got a weekend to relax. Please.”
“So I'm supposed to lounge around while you work yourself into exhaustion?” He shook his head. “That doesn't sound right to me, Trey.”
“I'm not working myself into exhaustion. Hell, I ran this place for months before you took the job and you're still helping out. I'm just keeping things up.”
He reached up, tracing the dark marks beneath Trey's eyes. “You look so tired all the time. Tired and sad.”
“Hi pot, I'm kettle. This hasn't been easy on any of us, Yankee, but I'm nowhere near suffering the most.”
“But you're stuck with the brunt of everything and I'm the one that people fuss over and check to make sure is all right. You're just stuck doing everything, all on your own. It isn't fair.” He blinked back more tears. Damn it, he hated this. Hated what it was doing to him, to Trey. Hated it.
“Life's not fair. Never has been. Don't expect it to start being so now.” Trey took the pitchfork from him, hands so gentle, careful. “It'll be over in two weeks.”
He nodded, the tears starting to fall; Trey's gentleness his undoing.
“Come on, Yankee. Everybody's fed. Let's go have some lunch and watch a movie together, okay?” Trey herded him slowly out of the barn, toward the house.
He nodded again and sniffed, trying hard to curb the tears that kept falling, but he was just so tired of being tired all the time and the pills making him feel strange and the burning itch in his balls ... ball. He let Trey lead him back inside and to the couch, wiping at his eyes and cheeks and blowing his nose hard. “Sorry.”
“Don't be. It happens to the best of us.” Trey ran one finger over his cheek. “What can I tempt you to eat?”
He nuzzled into Trey's touch. “I don't know. Nothing is particularly appealing.”
“Soup? Rice? Toast? Applesauce? More cantaloupe?”
“You not on the menu?”
Trey chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss him. “I'm not nutritious, Yankee.”
“We haven't done more than hold each other for two weeks, Cowboy.” He slid his hand to Trey's crotch, stroking. “You've got to be wanting.”
Trey moaned, the sound cut short as he stepped back, swallowing hard. “You'd tempt a dead man to take advantage of you. What do you want for lunch?”
“I tell you what. I'll eat if after you come sit by me and let me get you off.”
One dark eyebrow lifted, Trey's eyes twinkling. “Are you blackmailing me, Yankee?”
“I might be.” God, he loved to see that look on Trey's face, in those dark eyes. He leaned forward, running his hand up Trey's thigh.
Trey moaned softly, thighs parting a little. “You're tired.”
“But you're not. I'm not suggesting acrobatics. I just want to make you feel good, maybe taste you.” He stroked over the bulge in Trey's pants and then cupped it through the tight jeans.
“'s not fair to you...” Trey's hips pushed into his touch, cock stiffening.
He snorted. “What was that you said about life not being fair? I want to do this, Trey.” He started to undo Trey's jeans. Trey's prick was pushing against the zipper of the tight jeans, he could feel the throbbing of the thick veins against his fingers. He whimpered, hands shaking as he drew Trey's cock out. Oh. Oh man, he needed to do this. Maybe more than Trey needed it done.
Trey smelled so good—hot and heady and musky and real. It made him hungry, made his fingers tighten. He tugged Trey a little closer and pushed one hand into the man's jeans to grab those hot balls, fingers sliding gently over them as he bent and licked at the tip.
“Russ...” Trey jerked, cock pressing into his lips. He moaned softly at the taste and took Trey's cock right in, sucking on the tip as his hand worked the base, his other hand cupping and rolling Trey's balls. It was so good. So good.
“Love...” Trey's voice was raw and rough, cock throbbing. With a whimper, he slowly went down on Trey's cock, taking it all the way in. Oh god. Oh God, it was ... it was home and heart and good. “Won't last. Russ. God, so hot...”
That was fine with him, he was out of practice, didn't know how long he could keep it up. Not to mention his gag reflex was pretty sharp right now. Nonetheless, he pulled Trey all the way in, sucking as hard as he could, wanting the flavor of Trey's pleasure in his mouth. Trey came with a short, sharp cry, arching into his mouth, salt and bitter pouring into him. He swallowed it all down, tears pouring down his face. Oh, how he'd missed this. He sucked until the last shudders shook Trey and then he let the sweet prick slide from his mouth, resting his face against Trey's belly as he cried.
“Oh. Oh, Yankee ... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ... Oh, God. Russ. I'm sorry.” Trey's hands are gentle in his hair, petting, shaking.
“No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was great.” He looked up, managing a smile. “I've been ... so scared I was never going to get to do that again.”
“Oh.” He got a tremulous smile, Trey still stroking his hair. “I don't see that happening.”
“I hope not.” He wrapped his arms around Trey's waist and held on. “I love you, Trey.”
“I love you. Now. Food. You promised.”
“But I just ate!” He grinned up at Trey as he settled back against the couch.
Trey chuckled. “Oh, now. Real food. Apple sauce? Chicken soup?”
“I'll eat. Whatever you're having. And you come and sit with me while we eat and then you promised an afternoon relaxing together in front of movies.” He needed that and so did Trey.
Trey nod
ded, giving him a warm, real grin. “Grilled cheese and soup, then. Pick a movie and set the TV trays up.”
“Yes, boss,” he teased, feeling more normal than he had in weeks.
He ducked away from a swat and set up a couple of TV trays as Trey went off into the kitchen and then perused their movie selection. Oh, The Exorcist still made him shiver, which meant cuddling. He put that in and pulled a couple more scary selections off the shelf and settled back on the couch. The smell of grilled cheese and soup floated in, Trey whistling low and sweet.
He half sat, half lay there, letting the sounds and smells soothe him. And if he licked his lips he could still taste Trey on them and in his mouth. They were half way through this and he was going to be all right.
It was easy to believe that right now.
* * * *
Trey pulled into the driveway, swallowing a sob. It had been the longest fucking week of his life. Russ had been so sick—they'd had him in the hospital Monday night for observation and then Russ had just stayed at Nana's for the rest of the week. Trey'd gotten the best sleep he'd had in a month. God, he sucked.
Still, it was over. A few doctor's visits over the next few months, a CT scan in six months and they were gold. Thank God.
He walked around the truck and opened the door, helping Russ out. “Come on, Yankee. We're home.”
Russ looked so skinny and tired, but the grin he got was genuine enough. “Finally. I don't think I've ever been so happy to pull up into this driveway as I am right now.”
Russ leaned heavily on him as they went inside.
“Bed or sofa?”
“Sofa—I haven't seen you in almost a week.”
He nodded, kissed Russ’ temple and headed them towards the front room. “Yeah, it's been damned quiet. Was Nana good to you?”
“Of course she was. Kept trying to feed me.” Russ settled heavily on the couch. “I can't believe how tired I am—all I've done is lie around like a lump. You must be exhausted doing everything with no help.”
“I'm okay. Just glad you're home for good.” Trey leaned down and pulled Russ’ shoes off, helped him lie down and found a quilt.
“At least you didn't have to drive me back and forth this week. I probably should have just stayed with Nana and Nono from the start, but I was too selfish.” Russ gave him a small smile. “I wanted to be with you.”
He stroked Russ’ hair. “I would have been damned lonely. I gotta go feed the beasts here in a bit. You think you'll eat supper tonight?”
Russ shook his head. “Maybe a bit of iced tea.”
“Okay.” He gave Russ a smile. “Next week's Thanksgiving. You need to decide if you want to do something, go to Nana's, whatever.”
“I should be feeling better by then—whatever you want to do, Cowboy.”
“Maybe we'll just have a roast or something.” He shrugged. “I'll think on it later.” Honestly, he didn't care. He knew what he was thankful for. “Something non-stressful.”
Russ shifted and his eyes closed a moment before opening again. “Docs say I should be able to start pulling my weight properly in about a week and I should be able to at least help out before then.”
“Cool. Don't stress it, Yankee. No one's going anywhere.” Not for long damned time. He found Russ a grin, pushing the bullshit behind him. “Let me get your tea, yeah?”
“'k. Love you.” Russ’ eyes were closed before he finished talking.
Trey nodded and fetched Russ a glass of tea before heading out again. It was over. Over. Now he'd start building his life again.
* * * *
By noon on Monday Russ was exhausted, which was nothing new. But today he didn't have to go back for more radiation therapy. He was done with that now.
For weeks just as he was starting to feel like maybe he was going to recover from all this, he'd have to go in and start the treatment again, whereas today. Well, today they didn't have to head out to the Cancer Center at 3 pm and there wasn't going to be any energy zapping, nausea inducing treatment. Which meant tomorrow he might actually be able to put in a half day's work and then have enough energy to help out with chores after supper. Or at least make supper and maybe even be able to eat a healthy portion of it. It was about time he started pulling his own weight around here again. Sure Trey had had it all on his own shoulders for a lot longer than a month before Russ showed up, but this time around there was the extra burden of him, sick.
And he felt guilty.
The Cancer Center had sent the final bill home with him on Friday and he'd done a quick budget. They'd eaten up all of Trey's savings. All of it. They'd used the money his folks had given him and still owed enough that he was going to have to work out a payment plan with the hospital. He'd asked about that before he'd gotten sick and knew the hospital would be reasonable, especially as they'd paid the bulk of the bill up front. If they could take two years to pay the rest back, they'd be good. If the hospital insisted on a year, they could pull it off, but things would be pretty tight for that year.
Either way, it was going to be a couple of years before they were putting anything significant aside as savings. His illness had blown Trey's dream of buying his own place out of the water. Or at least delayed it by easily five years, more realistically ten. Now, they had it pretty good, working for Mr. Gonzales. He pretty much gave Trey free reign and they at least had their horses and with Pud pregnant were building their stock. Still. A five to ten year delay.
Because of him.
Maybe he could find some way to pick up some extra cash, doing some accounting in the evenings or something. He'd have to talk to Mr. Gonzalez about the possibility, see if the man would put a word in for him with some of his friends. Russ pulled lasagna out of the freezer and put it in the oven and set to making a salad, idly running figures in his head.
“Hey Yankee, what you thinking on so hard? There's smoke coming out of your ears?” Trey came in, hung up his jacket.
He turned, smiling at his lover. Man, his cowboy still looked tired. “I'll have you know this is a very complicated salad.”
“Oh, yeah. Tomatoes AND carrots. Damn.” Trey chuckled and winked. “I don't know if my taste buds can take the return of real food.”
“I know I'm looking forward to it. Tonight's the first time I've felt hungry in weeks.” He grinned suddenly. “Usually I've had my first treatment of the week and I'm hanging over the toilet around this time.” Man, it was nice to have that behind him.
“Cool.” Trey patted his ass and gave him a kiss, relaxed and easy. “I'm fixin’ to hop in the shower. Anything good come in the mail? Mamma's probably already sent her Christmas cards.”
“I didn't see anything but a couple of flyers from the Co-op. He looked down at this salad and over at the clock. “You want me to scrub your back?”
“You up to scrubbing, Yankee?” He got a wink.
“I think I can manage scrubbing. Maybe even a bit of tugging. Hell, I haven't had a taste of you in two weeks.” He'd been too sick for there to be a repeat of his sucking Trey off halfway through his treatment and he honestly wasn't horny, but he was desperate for close contact, for things to start to feel like they were going back to normal.
“Why don't we just go shower together, yeah? If something happens, cool. If not. Cool. We're together and not in San Antone.” Trey winked and took his hand.
“Yeah, I'm especially happy about the together and not in San Antone part.” He waited until they got to the bathroom and turned Trey, kissing him softly. “I've missed you, Cowboy. Missed us.”
“I know.” Trey nodded. “I know. It's over now. We made it. You did it.”
He nodded, fingers working on Trey's buttons. They got themselves naked, then Trey got the water started, steam slowly filling the room. Oh, this was good. Normal and fun and right. His cock might not be interested, but he was mentally turned on. Funny, before the cancer it never would have occurred to him that his mind could be turned on without his body. He let Trey get wet and then slowly la
thered his hands up, eyes on Trey's, silently making a few promises.
Trey tilted his head back, getting his hair wet, fingers stroking his skull. God, he could feel Trey's love, Trey's hope. Trey's faith in him. Felt good. Felt real good. He slowly soaped Trey up, fingertips sliding across those little nipples, teasing them.
“I love you, Yankee. I'm so glad you're okay.” Trey's lips traced his cheek, his jaw.
“Me, too.” He turned his face, bringing their mouths together. The kiss was long and slow, his hands washing randomly over Trey's skin. Trey's arms wrapped around him, sliding over his hips and then to cup his sac in the gentlest touch. He closed his eyes, leaning against Trey's shoulder. The rash had gone after his stay in the hospital—they'd had some special cream that had cleared it right out, but this was the first time Trey had touched him since ... since he'd lost the ball in the first place. A soft shudder went through him.
“Is it okay? Am I hurting you?” Those fingers stroked, moving so slow.
“Oh man, no. Feels good. Feels ... different. But good.”
“I love you. Still feels so sexy, so warm.” Trey pushed against him, fingers loving on him.
“Yeah? I still turn you on, Cowboy?” He let his hand slide down Trey's belly to wrap around his lover's growing cock—more than proof enough that Trey was aroused.
“You do. God, you do, Yankee.”
“Thank God.” He leaned up, bringing their mouths together, whimpering softly as arousal swept through his body, making the skin between his lips and his balls tingle. Trey moaned, hand moving to stroke his shaft, moving slow and careful. He almost sobbed as he felt himself start to get hard.
“This is okay?”
“Yeah. Oh God, yeah.” With another whimper, he kissed Trey again, holding on to his cowboy. Trey kept stroking, thumb moving just where he needed it, where he liked it—still gentle, but so sure, so strong. One of his hands was wrapped around Trey's waist, holding on, the other holding on Trey's prick. He was stoking a bit, matching Trey's movements, but most of his focus was on how amazing it felt to be touched, to want that touch and to be able to enjoy it.