by SJD Peterson
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, who cares why?” He stepped out of the truck and slammed the door with enough force the truck shook and groaned.
“What did that truck ever do to you?”
“Shut up, Josh,” Eric snapped and stomped off to the barn.
“I take it they thought your idea was dumb?”
Eric stopped long enough to glare at his little brother. Josh knew it wasn’t a stupid idea; hell, the little shit had done his science project based on Eric’s ideas.
He grunted the only comeback he could think of. “Shut up.” He snatched the bridle from its hook on the way to Drakon’s stall.
“What are you doing? I just brought them all in from the pasture.”
“And I’m taking Drakon back out.”
Josh leaned on the gate. “Can I come with?”
“No.”
“Why not? Where ya going?”
Eric gritted his teeth. “What part of no didn’t you quite understand?” He tilted his head. “Here, let me clarify it for you: fuck no!”
Josh didn’t so much as flinch in the wake of Eric’s ire. “I’ll saddle up Creepers,” he responded with a wide grin.
Eric struggled to get the bit into the horse’s mouth. At least someone was smart enough to sense Eric’s irritation.
“You do realize horses can sense when you’re upset,” Josh pointed out once he’d saddled up his horse and Eric was still struggling to saddle his.
“Thank you, Dr. Dolittle.”
“You want me to help?”
Without waiting for Eric to reply, Josh stepped into the stall and ran a hand down Drakon’s neck, murmuring something low and soothing to him. The horse instantly responded and stood still while Eric cinched the girth and set the saddle.
Eric finally grumbled his thanks as they left the barn, and allowed Josh to ride alongside him.
“So what’s got you so upset? I’d have thought you’d be in a great mood since your boy Jimmy’s back in town.”
“He’s not my boy,” Eric spat angrily.
“Whoa!” Josh held up his hands. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
Eric squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths, blowing them out slowly as he worked to get his anger under control. “Sorry. I’m not in the best of moods today.”
“That’s an understatement. Anything I can do to help?”
Eric’s first thought was Leave me the fuck alone, but that wasn’t fair to Josh. He was only trying to help. Eric wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be making small talk. He had too many conflicting thoughts running around in his head, many of which he had never shared with anyone. He damn sure wasn’t going to admit them for the first time to his little brother.
“Tell you what, you can groom Drakon when I beat you.”
“Beat me?” Josh asked in confusion.
“Yeah, last one to the tree line and back grooms the horses.” Eric spurred Drakon into a run. Josh’s competitive nature had him grumbling something about cheating, but it didn’t take him long to get Creepers into the race.
It wasn’t ideal, Eric would have preferred to ride at a leisurely pace and grumble and fume, but he could admit, racing across his land was definitely helping burn off some of his anger.
THE INSTANT the bedroom door clicked shut, Oliver’s demeanor changed from bubbly to frigid as if someone had shoved an icicle up his ass.
“You were an hour late.”
“Yes, I know and I told you I was sorry. I lost track of time.” Jimmy pulled off his denim shirt and tossed it on the chair.
Oliver snatched it up and shoved it in the hamper with an audible sound of frustration. “Not good enough, Jimmy.”
Here we go.
“We’ve been here all of three days and I’ve barely seen you. You stick me with your mom, cooking and cleaning, while you’re off doing Lord knows what.”
Jimmy slipped his T-shirt over his head, started to throw it on the chair, but the angry glare Oliver was shooting at him had him thinking twice and he put it in the hamper. “Babe, don’t be angry. And if you didn’t want to help my mom cook, why did you offer?” He started to slide his hand around Oliver’s waist to pull him into a hug, but Oliver slapped at Jimmy’s hand and spun away.
“I offered to be polite, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to go traipsing all over the countryside without inviting me along.”
Jimmy sat on the edge of the mattress and sighed. “What can I do to make this up to you?”
“How about thinking about my feelings and needs for a change,” Oliver snapped back and slammed the bathroom door.
He had sixty seconds to either get up and grovel at Oliver’s feet before the man completely lost his shit or escape to the peace and quiet of the barn. He eyed the door. The kitchen was on the way to the back door. Hmm, beer was in the kitchen, as was Dad’s hidden bottle of whiskey.
“Three, two, one,” Jimmy muttered, gritted his teeth, and pushed to his feet. He rapped his knuckles on the door. “Oliver?”
He waited a few ticks of the clock and the only sound from within was the splashing of running water, so Jimmy tried the knob. Fuck! It was unlocked, which meant Oliver expected him to beg. It was something he’d learned long ago. If the door was locked, there would be a huge fight, but Oliver would make him wait a day or two before he’d speak to him. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen this time. He pushed the door open.
Oliver had a headband on keeping his hair out of his face as he scrubbed it. Jimmy eased up behind him and planted his hands on the vanity on either side of Oliver’s body, effectively caging him in, and pressed his groin to Oliver’s ass.
“Babe, you know you want to forgive me,” he said against the back of Oliver’s neck.
“No, I don’t.”
Jimmy rolled his hips as he brushed his lips up Oliver’s neck, licking just behind his ear. When Oliver shivered, Jimmy smiled, knowing he had him. Oliver was a smart man, but he was also very vain. He thrived on compliments and signs of affection. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was because Oliver was shallow or insecure. He’d never figured it out, at times leaning toward one, then the other, sometimes within seconds.
“Mmm, you taste good,” Jimmy murmured and slid one of his hands to splay over Oliver’s stomach, thumb teasing. “Feel good too.”
Oliver leaned down to rinse his face, although the way he pushed his ass back against Jimmy’s growing erection was deliberate. But Oliver was going to make him wait. He took his dear sweet time drying his face and removed the headband, running his fingers through his mussed hair. Of course he was going to draw this out; it was part of the dance. Jimmy wasn’t complaining, he was rather enjoying the friction of Oliver’s ass against his growing arousal.
Finally, Oliver turned in Jimmy’s arms, his small hands holding on to the belt loops on Jimmy’s hips. “I’ll forgive you if you give me a body massage,” Oliver offered.
“Full or would you prefer special attention to certain”—he cupped Oliver’s cock—“sensitive parts.”
“All of me is sensitive,” Oliver groaned and pushed into Jimmy’s touch.
“Yes, but aren’t there some parts that are more sensitive than others?”
Oliver turned in Jimmy’s arms. “How about you start with these,” Oliver suggested and pressed his lips against Jimmy’s.
They shared soft, unhurried kisses until Oliver melted into Jimmy’s body and touch. Jimmy picked him up easily, encouraging Oliver to wrap his legs around Jimmy’s waist, without breaking the kiss.
Carefully he laid his lover on the bed and then removed his clothes as well as his own pants. He pulled a condom from the bedside table and rolled it down his length before crawling up onto the mattress. Jimmy propped himself on his elbows as well as his knees between Oliver’s spread thighs to avoid crushing the smaller man.
“Forgiven me yet?” Jimmy whispered against Oliver’s kiss-swollen lips.
“Almost,” he responded sl
yly.
“You promise to be quiet?”
Oliver worried his bottom lip with his teeth and ran his index finger down Jimmy’s breastbone and nodded.
Jimmy should have known better and thought to turn on the TV or stereo or something because Oliver rarely shut up and that included during sex. When Jimmy entered his lover, the babbling and moaning began instantly and sounded loud in the otherwise silent house.
Jimmy stilled and pushed his face into the side of Oliver’s neck. “Babe, you’ve got to be quiet.” The last thing he wanted was for his parents, whose room was only two doors down from theirs, to hear them.
“Oh God, please don’t stop.”
Jimmy clamped his hand over Oliver’s mouth and moved slowly in and out of his lover, Oliver’s long slender cock painting its arousal on Jimmy’s stomach. Oliver’s muffled moans and pleas once again grew in volume as he thrust and writhed, trying to get Jimmy to move faster. He wrapped his legs around Jimmy, digging his heels painfully into the small of Jimmy’s back to try and force Jimmy to increase his speed.
Each time he tried, though, the headboard banged against the wall and the mattress squeaked. Jimmy cautiously removed his hand from Oliver’s mouth and turned them till they were lying across the bed sideways.
“Dammit, Jimmy, fuck me like you mean it!”
Jimmy clamped his hand back over Oliver’s mouth. No way was he going to be able to shut Oliver up until he got off. Jimmy fucked him hard, even though the panic, irritation, and embarrassment had deflated his hard-on slightly.
“Oliver, please, you have to keep your mouth shut.”
Oliver nodded his head vigorously, clamping his lips shut, but his eyes were full of lust and Jimmy doubted he even knew what he was agreeing to. Still, Jimmy plowed into him over and over, hoping to get Oliver off as quickly as possible.
They had a good rhythm going in the new position on the bed, which was blessedly silent other than a small creak. Oliver’s body tensed, his chest bowing, and the first shot of his release hit Jimmy’s belly. Oliver sank his teeth into the meaty flesh of Jimmy’s palm. Instinctively, Jimmy jerked his hand away from the searing pain and in doing so cemented his embarrassment.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! God, I love your cock,” Oliver howled loud enough Jimmy was sure it shook the foundation.
Jimmy stopped dead, squeezed his eyes shut, and prayed like hell Oliver would either finish or he’d blow his fucking voice box out.
When Oliver was panting and mewling, Jimmy escaped to the bathroom. No longer aroused—he was too pissed to get off—he washed up quickly. Oliver wasn’t stupid, knew he’d be heard by Jimmy’s parents. Fucker had done that shit on purpose, he often used sex as a weapon. He’d paid Jimmy back for being left behind—in spades. He threw a damp cloth at Oliver and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it and did his best to rein in his anger. He had half a mind to sleep on the couch. If he thought he could without waking up to his mom standing over him, he’d do it, but there was little chance of that happening. Goddammit! He wasn’t looking forward to facing his parents in the morning, yet he knew he’d have to apologize for Oliver being an inconsiderate asshole. The thought made Jimmy a little nauseated.
AN HOUR before dawn, Jimmy snuck from the house and hid in the barn. He was fully aware that he was being a coward. It wasn’t as if he had some stupid notion that his parents thought he was a virgin—he was a grown man, for fuck’s sake—but seriously, he didn’t want his parents having to listen to him. Just like he had no desire, none, to hear them going at it. The idea made him shudder. Yuck!
If he thought he could escape, he was seriously delusional. Worse, he knew his prayers that his dad had worn ear plugs the night before or, better yet, had gone deaf hadn’t been answered when Dad walked into the barn and stormed toward him the instant he saw Jimmy sitting on a hay bale.
“What the hell was that going on in your bedroom last night?”
Jimmy hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as his cheeks heated. This would have been way easier to do with Mom first.
Dad stopped in front of Jimmy, his cowboy boot tapping impatiently on the dirt. “Well? It sounded like a damn wounded cat in heat got into your room and was tearin’ up the place.”
“I’m really sorry about that.” Jimmy didn’t look up, too fucking embarrassed to meet his dad’s gaze.
“I suggest you put a damn muzzle on him. At least till after we leave. I do not want to have to hear that again. Is that understood, boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nearly gave your mom a fit,” Dad grumbled as he headed out of the barn.
Jimmy sat back and threaded his fingers through his hair, clamping them together behind his head as he watched his dad’s retreating form. He was so going to kill Oliver. What he wouldn’t be doing was fucking him again any time soon. He knew how to dish out a little payback of his own.
Chapter Five
WITHOUT BOTHERING to call, Jimmy headed over to Eric’s house. This time of the morning, Jimmy knew exactly where Eric would be: the same place he was every morning at ten.
He stepped into the barn and found him with pitchfork in hand. “Hey, Eric, you got a minute?”
Eric continued to clean the stall without looking up. His blue T-shirt was damp and dirt covered, accentuating the wideness of Eric’s back. He hadn’t just bulked up a little, he was built like a brick shithouse. His black Stetson was pulled low on his head, muscular arms bulging as he worked. Jimmy swallowed hard and was about to call out to him again when he noticed the little black wires obscured by his dark hat running down from Eric’s ears. Jimmy stepped up close and tapped him on the shoulder.
Eric spun around and hollered out in surprise, “What the—?”
His words cut off when the handle of the pitchfork slammed into Jimmy, sending him reeling back. And if landing on his ass wasn’t bad enough, somehow the horseshit that had been on the end of the fork was propelled at a faster rate than he was and said shit was now soaking into the ass of his jeans.
“Oh… oh….” Eric bent over, looking down at his feet for a moment, shoulders shaking. He obviously lost the battle to keep from laughing because he stood up, pointed at Jimmy, and just fucking cackled.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Jimmy grumbled. He held out his hand. “If you can stop delighting long enough in my misfortune, I’d appreciate a little help here.”
Eric continued to laugh heartily, but helped Jimmy to his feet. “Serves you right for sneaking up on me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I yelled at you first. What the hell were you listening to anyway?”
“My boy Jason Aldean.”
Before thinking better of it, Jimmy brushed his hands over the back of his jeans to wipe the dust—he froze as the shit squished between his fingers. Of course this only caused Eric to laugh even harder. Eric’s mistake was bending over and clenching his gut as he lost himself to a fit of hysteria. Seizing the opportunity, Jimmy ran his hands along the back of Eric’s damp T-shirt and, knowing how his friend would react, spun on his heels and broke out into a dead run.
“Come back here, you little fucker,” Eric cried out.
Jimmy always fancied himself a smart man, so he didn’t stop; instead, he ran out of the barn, jumped the fence, and sprinted across the field toward the pond. His heart was pounding, the rush of blood in his ears loud, but he could still hear Eric’s footfalls—he was moving fast.
Jimmy didn’t dare lose the precious seconds it would take to look back. He pushed himself harder, sweat trickling down his spine as he raced past the tree line. He dodged trees, the branches pulling his hair and scratching his exposed arms, yet his footfalls were sure. Even though it had been years since he’d been here, the path was familiar, since he’d spent nearly every day from spring to fall hanging out there while he was growing up. As he broke out of the trees, Jimmy said a little prayer that he’d at least have enough time to get his boots off before hitting the water. No such
luck. Just as he slowed near the water’s edge and bent to pull his boot off, Eric crashed into him, wrapping Jimmy in a bear hug, and boots and all, Jimmy sank beneath the cool water of the pond.
They splashed around, both trying to drown the other, or at least get the other to cry uncle, but before long they were choking on the water from laughing too hard and a silent truce was called.
Still snorting and coughing, Jimmy pulled his T-shirt over his head and trudged through the water to the shore. “You still keep that kit out here?”
“Same place as always.” Eric pulled off his own T-shirt and sat down on the shore to take off his boots.
Jimmy retrieved the Tupperware box from beneath a fallen log and pulled out a bar of soap. All the splashing around had removed most of the mess, but eww, horseshit.
After washing his hands, Jimmy tossed the bar of soap to Eric and then plopped down on a rock and removed his waterlogged boots and socks before shucking his jeans.
Wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans, Eric headed back to the water, and Jimmy got a good look at the tattoos on Eric’s back. In the center was a racing stallion with its head reared back, its mane flowing up to one shoulder, its long tail inked to the other.
“Jesus, when did you get that?”
“What?” Eric looked back at Jimmy.
“The ink. It’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Oh that.” Eric shrugged. “Hank and I were in Nashville back in April. He got some little stethoscope winged thing and I got this.” He stabbed his thumb over his shoulder.
Four months he’d had it? How in the hell had Jimmy not known about it? Hell, he didn’t even know Eric and Hank had gone to Nashville. There were definitely some things about being in school that really sucked, like not getting a chance to go on a road trip and get ink. Those things he definitely missed big-time.
Eric bent to wash his hands, and once again Jimmy was struck by how good the years had been to his friend. Eric had always been an attractive man, but he was even more so now. The lean body Jimmy remembered was filled out, thick with muscles from working on the ranch, his hair a little longer, a little darker. His olive skin was sun kissed, which highlighted the beauty of the tattoo artist’s work. It looked amazing on Eric. Jimmy also couldn’t help but notice the way the wet denim clung to a damn fine ass.