Long Tall Drink

by L. C. Chase

  Finally he was empty. He stood clutched to Ray until the vice grip on his chest loosened, until his heartbeat steadied, until he could breathe again. And he breathed in Ray. Suede and sandalwood filled his senses. Suddenly it wasn’t enough. Suddenly he needed more, needed all of Ray.

  Travis began to nuzzle into Ray’s neck, inhaling his scent, and Ray tilted his head slightly, allowing Travis more access. Travis sucked the warm skin into his mouth and rolled his tongue over the salty flesh as he gently drew blood to the surface.

  Hot, moist breath against his ear sent shivers tearing through his body. Sure fingers threaded through his hair. He couldn’t stop the moan that exploded from his throat. And then Ray’s mouth was on his, but not crushing or aggressive like the day before. This time it was soft, gentle, and deeply sensual. Travis parted his lips, and Ray’s tongue slipped into his mouth in lazy exploration. The tenderness of it turned something in his chest. A weight lifted, a crack opened, and light seeped inside. The sensation of being home washed over Travis once again. But now he knew why. He was where he wanted to be. The place he’d traveled back and forth across the country to find. Where he belonged—and the man he belonged with.

  “Oh God, Ray.” He broke the kiss and panted. “I want you so bad.”

  “I know.” Ray’s voice was breathy. “God, I know.”

  Then firm, satin-skinned lips stole the breath from his lungs with a ferociousness that had Travis wondering if, for the first time in his life, his knees might truly buckle.

  Travis answered the commanding kiss with a demand of his own. He lured Ray’s tongue into his mouth and wrestled with it: tangling, twisting, sucking. A deep, long groan reverberated between them, and he wasn’t sure which of them it had come from. Didn’t care. All he knew was that Ray Ford was kissing him like a man stranded in the desert who’d just discovered water. Travis prayed the well would never run dry as that clever tongue dueled with his. The taste of him was intoxicating and heady: spice and cinnamon rode sidesaddle with the beer he’d just finished.

  Travis tugged Ray’s shirt from the waistband. He slid his hands beneath the soft material and sank into burning hot, satin skin stretched over hard, flexing muscle. His hands moved of their own accord, trying to cover every inch of Ray. The muscle beneath his palms responded eagerly to his touch.

  Ray groaned hungrily and rocked into him, grinding their erections together in erotic rhythm. Urgent hands traced over Travis’s shoulders, his chest, and then began roughly unbuttoning his shirt.

  They had yet to break the fevered kiss, breathing through their noses so they wouldn’t have the need to. The connection was a lifeline Travis hadn’t realized he’d needed until then, and he refused to let go.

  Then Ray’s hands were on Travis’s bare skin, branding him as they traveled inquisitively over his torso. Travis stopped thinking and reached for the button on Ray’s jeans for what he craved most.

  Ray jerked back, breaking their impassioned kiss. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. His thick cock was a sharp outline trapped behind dark denim.

  Ray pushed Travis; the backs of his knees hit the chair he’d been sitting on, and he flopped gracelessly onto the cushion. His eyes widened when Ray knelt between his legs, using his body to push them apart. Travis couldn’t pull his gaze from Ray. The gorgeous, stoic man who’d stood steady in the eye of a hurricane, whose strength could carry Travis with ease, whose power, so fierce and unyielding, could at the same time be so tender and giving. But then, hadn’t Travis thought that when he’d watched Ray train? That he’d be an amazing lover?

  Ray placed his hands on Travis’s knees and slowly slid them up his thighs. Heat burned a trail through the heavy denim. One hand rode over Travis’s straining erection, tracing the outline and squeezing with just the right amount of spine-tingling pressure as the other worked the pants open. Ray pushed the clothing out of the way and then took Travis commandingly in hand. Oh. My. God. Travis’s hips shot up into that heavenly hand. He needed to feel more of Ray. Needed to feel him everywhere, to be absorbed by him, lost in him.

  And then Ray smiled. A smile Travis had never seen, sly and seductive and holy—“Shit, Ray!”

  Travis’s brain checked out the second Ray’s beautiful lips closed over the head of his cock. The wet heat of Ray’s mouth sent shivers racing over his body; electricity bounced from his balls to his skull and back like a pinball. Ray sank down on him, taking him all the way, wrapping him in blazing heat and…what the fuck is he doing with his tongue?

  “Not going to last,” Travis managed to pant. “Ray…”

  Then he felt Ray smile around his shaft and cup his balls firmly, and just like that Travis was standing on the edge of the cliff. Arms spread wide, head thrown back, and body leaning gracefully forward. He tipped past the center of gravity and dropped into an exhilarating freefall. Wind sang in his ears as he soared effortlessly on a lazy summer current. He felt weightless and alive and never wanted to land.

  And then skin and muscle and bone knit itself back together, and the weight of body sank deep into the leather chair that closed around him like a giant hand. Nerve endings crackled and danced in the dying electrical storm. He was back on solid ground. Bound by gravity. His breath hitched when he opened his eyes and met Ray’s gaze. Amber flecks in those soulful brown eyes glittered like gold nestled in the rich bed of a clear stream. Travis suddenly wanted to go swimming.

  “Fuck.” Ray’s was voice a rough, erotic slide over Travis’s eardrums. “That was beautiful.”

  Travis wanted to say something, searched for the words, but his brain was still riding thermal currents somewhere far above the earth. He cupped the side of Ray’s face with one hand and slid the other down his chest, but Ray grabbed his hand, wrapped it in his, and held it tightly over his heart. He shook his head with a lazy, sated smile.

  “Watching you sent me over,” Ray whispered.

  Travis let out a half laugh, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against Ray’s, their noses touching. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Travis glanced over his shoulder at Ray working a liver chestnut gelding with flaxen mane and wondered how long this was going to go on. The man had barely said two words to him since the other night—the night he’d shown him how to fly. Travis had given Ray the benefit of the doubt yesterday, being that it was Sunday, and they’d all had the day off. But that excuse didn’t cut it today. Today it seemed Ray was doing his best to avoid him and had hardly even looked him in the eye.

  He really couldn’t buy that Ray might be regretting what they’d done. Not when he remembered the way the sexy rancher had smiled at him, looked at him, how he’d touched him with such genuine adulation. That wasn’t a man doing something he didn’t want to do. That was a man absolutely loving what he was doing.

  So what was with the cold shoulder?

  Not one to let sleeping dogs lie, Travis walked over to the other training ring. Ray’s back was to him when he leaned against the railing and hooked a boot heel on the lowest rung.

  “What’s going on, Ray?”

  Ray’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. He was silent for a moment, his voice flat when he spoke. “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t.”

  Travis saw the man’s sigh as much as he heard it. Ray called the chestnut to a halt and removed the lead line from the horse’s halter. He scrubbed the animal’s muscular neck before walking the few feet to meet Travis at the railing, hands in his pockets.

  “This really isn’t the best time or place to talk about it.” His hushed voice sounded resigned.

  “When is then?” Travis pushed. “A couple months goes by pretty quick, and I’d rather not spend it at odds with you.”

  “That’s just it,” Ray said. “You’re leaving. Best to keep that in mind and not make things difficult.”

  “How is taking advantage of the situation making things difficult? No one’s going to know
anything we don’t tell them.”

  Ray was quiet for a long moment. He couldn’t get a read on the man, his usually expressive eyes firmly closed down. But he was positive he caught a flash of something like sorrow in their soulful depths.

  “That’s all it is for you then?” Ray asked. “Sex?”

  Travis frowned. How was he supposed to answer that? Tell Ray it was more than sex when he was leaving anyway? What was the point in that? It could never be more, even though he felt like that line had already been crossed. Even though he felt at home here on Ford Creek—first time he’d felt at home anywhere in eighteen years.

  And why would Ray want more than that anyway? He knew how much the man stood to lose. Ray would never ask him to stay so why put himself out there?

  Fucking trick questions.

  “Well, I’d say it’s pretty obvious there’s a strong mutual attraction going on here. We’re adults. We obviously know how to fly under the radar. Why not?”

  “I don’t fly at home. That’s why not.”

  “No?” Travis challenged. “What was the other night?”

  “Reckless. Careless. A mistake.”

  Of course it was a mistake. It always was, wasn’t it?

  Travis did his best to school his expression, remain blank, but hearing that coming from Ray hurt a little more than it should. A warm breeze drifted over his shoulder, bringing with it mild bouquet of dry sage grass, dirt, and horse. The chestnut snorted and swished his tail from the other side of the ring.

  Ray was silent for a moment but must have seen something in Travis’s eyes, because the edge in his voice had softened, his tone almost a plea when he spoke. “You’ve already seen how Sam reacted, and that was only based on small rumors. It’s just too risky, Travis. I’ve seen what can happen to men like us in these parts.” Ray paused, lifted his hat, and ran a hand through dark hair that Travis knew firsthand felt like silk sliding between his fingers. “This thing… You’re leaving… It can’t… It’s just not worth it.”

  You’re not worth it, Travis heard, and something pinched painfully in his chest. He was fully aware of the risks but still, some small, long-dormant part of him had held steadfastly to a kernel of hope that maybe this time, it would be different. Maybe that was the pinch he felt, that diminutive glimmer being crushed helplessly into the ground once again. He knew better than to hope for any more than he had. No one had ever chosen him first, had they? He’d never been worth the effort. Not to his father or his mother, not the one foster home he’d actually been happy at, certainly not any of the men he’d ever been with. They only wanted him so long as it stayed all nice and quiet on the down low. And people wondered why he kept moving.

  “This how it’s going to be then?” Travis asked, fighting to keep his tone even.

  “This is how it has to be,” Ray answered softly. “You know where I’m coming from, right?”

  Travis looked over Ray’s shoulder at the gelding dozing in the late-afternoon sun and shrugged. “Sure. I get it.”

  When Travis looked back at Ray, he saw regret and a touch of anger in the man’s eyes. What the fuck was that about? Ray was the one who’d made the self-proclaimed mistake.

  “We done talking then?” Ray asked.

  “Reckon so,” Travis answered flatly.

  Ray opened his mouth and snapped it shut. What could he say anyway? With a sigh, he left Travis standing at the rail and returned to his charge. Travis stood where he was for a moment. It was frustrating watching Ray, close yet not. Though unsurprised, knowing Ray thought he wasn’t worth taking a risk on hurt far more than it should. Ray was just another rancher on just another stop of the endless journey. No reason he should be any different.

  But he is.

  Travis went back to his pen with disappointment simmering just below anger, and led the bay he’d been working back to the corral. He was done training for the day. Done watching what he couldn’t have. Done hoping for things that could never be. He needed to get away for a while—away from the ranch, away from Ray, and most importantly, away from this desire to mean enough to the man to take the risk. Which really was stupid. What was he thinking anyway? He wasn’t going to stay, and Ray wasn’t going to ask him to. He needed to keep his own reputation clean if he wanted to keep earning a living, and really, that was the most important thing to remember.

  Funny his heart didn’t agree with his mind’s rhetoric.

  The big buckskin had wandered over to the gate when Travis entered the corral. He let the bay loose and threw the halter on Wiley. “Hey, big guy. How’s about we go for a ride?”

  It was close to the dinner hour when Travis made his way back to the ranch. A couple of hours of aimless riding had been exactly what he’d needed to center himself.

  As he neared the ranch, he noticed a rising plume of dust following in the wake of a rapidly moving vehicle approaching from the east. When the vehicle crested the rise, bucking and bouncing along the dirt drive, he recognized it as Sam’s rusty pickup. He pulled Wiley up and watched as the truck slid to a reckless stop in the yard, almost colliding with one of the ranch vehicles. Sam launched himself out of the cab and flapped his arms about, voice raised in agitation. Two more men piled out of the truck from the passenger side and came around to flank him. Travis was too far away to clearly hear what Sam was saying, but he did catch his name on the wind.

  “Christ,” Travis said under his breath. The day just couldn’t get any better.

  With a long-drawn sigh, he nudged Wiley into an easy walk parallel to the driveway. He was certainly in no rush to deal with the likes of Sam Davis and his little posse.

  Unnoticed by the unexpected visitors as he approached from behind but within earshot, Travis was able to make out the colorful epithets Sam tossed out at the gathering hands. Sam was in quite a tizzy about Jesse living on a ranch with a bunch of queer lovers, which is what they all had to be to keep a freak like Travis on but fire him, a real man. That was about the funniest thing Travis had heard all day, though not quite funny enough to earn the effort of actually laughing.

  Jesse stood behind Ray, flanked by Clay and Ross, but didn’t say a word as his dad berated him. The rest of the hands coming in for dinner formed a line ten strong behind Ray—an intimidating army.

  “You need to turn around and get off my ranch right now,” Ray ordered firmly, cutting off Sam’s tirade.

  “Not until that son of a bitch pays for what he’s done,” Sam countered angrily.

  The ku-cha-ku of a round being dropped into a rifle chamber drew everyone’s attention to the house. Dot stood on the front porch with a bolt-action rifle aimed squarely at Sam’s chest.

  “You take your bad attitude and your little hoodlums and get off my ranch, Samuel Davis,” Dot said in a voice that sent an icy shiver down Travis’s spine. “Your choice. Go now and live, or I drop you where you stand and call the coroner to come pick up your miserable pieces.”

  For an extended, tense beat, no one moved a muscle. It seemed even the cool, early-evening breeze had stilled.

  “Fine,” Sam spat. “But don’t be thinking this is over.”

  He turned around and froze when he saw Travis astride the big buckskin. His storm gray eyes narrowed, the skin under his scruffy beard tightened, and he clenched his hands into tight fists.

  “That him?” a short, stocky cowboy to the left of Sam asked. He had a scrunched-up face and wore jeans the same color of dirt as his boots. “That the fag?”

  Sam nodded, and Scrunchy Face cracked his knuckles. Travis would have laughed if the sound of popping cartilage hadn’t echoed through his memory and yanked him sharply back to North Dakota.

  Five men had piled out of the mud-caked Double Diamond pickup; three grabbed two-by-fours from the bed of the truck, and the other two cracked their knuckles in anticipation of a beat down. Yes, they’d left Travis curled up in the fetal position on the side of the road with three broken ribs and countless abrasions and bruises, but he’d given them a few
souvenirs of his own. He hadn’t been the only one who had limped away from that fight with broken bones.

  Anger that had taken Travis so long to finally settle roared back to life with a vengeance. No more. No more hate and broken bones and hiding from life.

  “You want to take me on, you ignorant piece of shit?” he bit out in a cold, flat voice. His vision tunneled, his ears buzzed, and his body began to vibrate with explosive heat. He slid from the saddle, dropped the reins carelessly, and converged on Sam and his posse with murderous intent. Whatever had shown on his face was enough to force Sam and his band of hoods back a step. Fear flashed through Sam and Scrunchy Face’s eyes, but the other man, taller and harder looking, remained vacant of emotion. He would be the one to watch in this fight.

  “What?” Travis asked without inflection. “Three on one aren’t good enough odds for you?”

  Challenged, Sam straightened his shoulders. “You’re a dead man,” he threatened and took a step forward.

  The booming explosion of a rifle shot rent the air and echoed across the plains like rolling thunder. A small pad of dirt exploded like a bomb not more than two feet in front of Sam, bringing him and his posse to a sudden stop. Spooked, Wiley reared and nearly ran over Travis as he galloped wildly to the corrals and the safety of the herd. Travis remained intently locked on Sam.

  “That was your only warning,” Dot said, reloading the chamber for emphasis. “Next bullet puts you down.”

  Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Dot with her rifle trained on him, square and steady. She tipped the muzzle up briefly in a quick “go on” motion. He looked back at Travis and sent him another killing glare.

  “Next time.”

  Travis smiled, cold and feral. “You know where to find me.”

  Sam and crew climbed grudgingly back into the truck, and Sam gunned the engine, making a show out of peeling out of the yard and covering the small crowd in a thin layer of dust.