Wild Trail

by A. M. Arthur

  You should have told him about the script, you idiot.

  Part of Wes was afraid to. At the start of their flirtation, Mack’s friends had been clear about his aversion to actors, and while Wes knew now it was because of how violently Geoff had died, it was also tied to the fact that Geoff had cheated. Wes needed this thing with Mack too much to risk Mack pulling away in some noble gesture to let Wes spread his wings and make a movie. To rediscover his career.

  Hell, he might fuck up the audition, and then the movie would be a completely moot point, so why make an issue of it in the first place? Miles had promised not to say anything, until Wes assured him Mack knew. And that wasn’t happening yet.

  The guilt dimmed once he got to work and out onstage, doing what he loved doing most. Channeling his excitement over the audition into his character. Earning a great response from the audience during curtain call. It carried him home to a bed that smelled like Mack. He had to jerk off before he could fall asleep.

  Since Monday was Wes’s night off, they texted each other and planned a Skype date for seven o’clock. Wes settled onto his bed with his laptop perched on his knees, stupidly happy and counting down the minutes, even though he’d just seen Mack the day before.

  Mack finally called in, and then his face filled Wes’s screen. He seemed tired, but less frustrated than he had on Saturday. “Hey, you,” Wes said. “You get any movement on your permits?”

  “Yes, finally.” Mack’s smug grin made Wes’s heart trill. “I went down to the county office and raised holy hell until someone admitted that a form got lost. Everything got straightened up, and it should all be approved tomorrow. Which means we break ground on the new septic system on Thursday.”

  Wes whooped. “That’s amazing news. Congrats.”

  “Yeah, I’m excited to be doing more than pacing and worrying and staring at plans. I’m finally doing this thing.” Mack cracked his knuckles. “I’m ready to do some real work.”

  “I can tell. Man, I’m so happy for you. If I was in your room, I’d give you a celebratory blow job.”

  “That sounds amazing right now.”

  Wes bit his lower lip and tilted his head to the side a bit. “You know, I can’t actually blow you over Skype, but we could pretend, and both get off.”

  Mack’s eyebrows lifted. “You wanna have phone sex?”

  “Why not?” Wes rubbed his crotch, his dick already getting into the idea. “Any chance of your roommate—?”

  The very subject of Wes’s question made an abrupt entrance to the cabin he shared with Mack. Even over the internet, Wes heard Reyes’s snarled curse and the cabin door bang shut. Mack’s attention went above his computer screen.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Mack asked.

  “Ranch shit, don’t worry about it” was Reyes’s snarled response.

  Mack flinched. “The hell, man? Maybe I’m not technically an employee, but I live here and I still care about the ranch.”

  “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. Shit, you’re busy.” Reyes moved in the periphery of the screen, and another door banged. Bathroom.

  “Hey, this can keep,” Wes said to Mack. “Talk to your friend. We’ll catch up another time.”

  “Are you sure?” Mack asked, looking down at Wes again. He seemed uncertain, so Wes decided for them.

  “I’m positive. Besides, I have to get up super early for work. Crack-of-dawn early.”

  “What for?”

  “We’re rehearsing a brand-new show that’ll debut on Saturday. New lines, new dance moves, so I need my beauty sleep.”

  “You’re already gorgeous, and you know it.”

  “True.” Wes laughed. “Anyway, thanks for telling me your good news. You’re gonna rock this restoration.”

  “Thanks, boss. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  Wes signed off, a little mad at himself for being grateful Reyes’s interruption gave him an out. He couldn’t tell Mack about the audition in a text, and Skype was as close to in-person as he’d get for a while. Not tonight, though. The next time they got together, for sure. Tracey still hadn’t gotten back to him about his audition—day, flight times, etc... He needed more concrete information before he presented this to Mack.

  And the universe didn’t give Wes any other good chances for the rest of the week. Between getting up super early for rehearsal and still performing at night, Wes was too exhausted after his shifts to stay awake and have any coherent conversations, so he and Mack texted. A lot.

  By Saturday evening, Wes was a wrecking ball of nerves over opening the new show. Last night’s final performance had been bittersweet, but they’d run the show for the last two months. Keeping diners in the seats meant new material. The new show was by a local playwright and not a musical, which made Wes sort of sad. But he could sing at home, and the story was killer. Humorous and serious, with great lines for the whole cast.

  But opening night performances drove Wes nuts, so he was in the kitchen, bothering Miles while he tried to keep up with the appetizer orders. Apps went out first. The show didn’t start until all entrees had been served, so as not to interrupt the flow.

  “Fire two calamari, three crab dip, six ahi rolls,” the kitchen manager called out as more tickets rolled in.

  Miles surged into motion, grabbing the appropriate food and dancing around Wes, who couldn’t stop bouncing from foot to foot. Miles made the ahi rolls faster and better than any of the other prep cooks, searing the tuna just right before tucking it into a spring roll wrapper with homemade slaw and a spicy house sauce. The restaurant had a reputation for made-to-order food, with only a few made-ahead exceptions.

  Wes hadn’t eaten since lunch, and his stomach gurgled unhappily. He was tempted to grab something off the prep station, but Miles would probably smack his hand with his knife. Besides, food would only make him feel more nauseated about the show.

  “Don’t you have makeup to put on?” Miles asked after he tripped over Wes for the second time in three minutes.

  “It’s on,” Wes replied.

  “Vocal chords to warm up?”

  “I did my rhymes, but this isn’t a musical.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is there any place you can be other than underfoot?”

  “I’m sorry, I know I’m being an oversensitive jerk. I’m always nervous before a new show.”

  “I know,” Miles snapped, “which is why I’m trying to be nice and accommodating, but I also have work to do. Besides, the apps are almost done and you’ll have to perform soon.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “You’ll be great. You always are.”

  Miles’s confidence helped boost Wes’s. A little. “Thanks.”

  “Break a leg, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  * * *

  Wes felt silly later for how worried he’d been, because the play went off without a hitch or single missed line of dialogue. All of the light and sound cues were correct, and when they went out for curtain call, the audience roared. Wes basked in the attention. While Hollywood had been his dream, there was something wholly unique about a live performance in front of an audience. A certain adrenaline rush that nothing else matched.

  He floated on that rush afterward while he changed from his costume to his street clothes in the green room. They had curtained areas for the shy folks, but Wes had never been accused of being shy. After chatting with his cast members—including Gary, whose sister was back at work and doing well—Wes headed out the back door of the restaurant to where the employees parked.

  Only to find himself engulfed by Mack’s broad, tall form in a smothering hug. Mack lifted him right off his feet and twirled them both once before setting him down again. Wes gaped helplessly at Mack, and at Reyes, who stood off to the side with a smiling Miles.

  “You came to the show!” Wes said, still not
quite sure this was real.

  “Of course I did,” Mack replied, pride radiating in his smile. “When you mentioned a new show opening tonight, I called Miles and we plotted.”

  Wes cast Miles a wide grin. “You are a sneaky son of a bitch, do you know that?”

  “Yeah.” Miles shrugged. “Plus, Mack has never seen you act before. He deserves to see how talented you are.”

  Some kind of silent message hid inside those words. Tell him about the script. You’re really good and he’ll see that. Take a chance and trust him.

  “You’re incredible,” Mack said. He pressed a hard kiss to Wes’s mouth. “I’m absolutely blown away.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” Wes teased.

  “Will it help if I say you’re really good?” Reyes asked. “Because you’re really good, so stop fishing for compliments.”

  Wes laughed as he leaned into Mack’s chest. “I was terrified at first, but once I hit the stage, I lived it, you know? I had so much fun.”

  “I could tell,” Mack said. “You’re a natural.”

  “Thank you.” More than anything else in the world, Wes wanted to hear that kind of praise from Mack. “That means so much to me.”

  * * *

  Mack tried to ride the high of seeing his boyfriend perform live theater, of seeing how amazingly talented he really was, but dark thoughts kept trying to ruin the moment. Thoughts of Wes wasting his talent in dinner theater when he deserved Broadway. Thoughts of Wes deciding he needed more than what he had here and going back to Los Angeles. Thoughts of losing him, just when Mack had found him.

  No, he pushed those thoughts aside and basked in Wes’s glow. His excitement was infectious, even if it poked at Mack’s ego a little. Mack had had silly thoughts of asking Wes to become part of his ghost town attraction, to play a character in the reenactments of bank robberies and bad guys for tourists, but Wes was meant for bigger things. Anyone with taste could see that.

  Wes wouldn’t be acting in his dinky little ghost town. It had been a silly thing to dream about, anyway.

  “You wanna go out for drinks?” Mack asked. “Celebrate an amazing opening night?”

  Wes’s blue eyes gleamed. “Definitely.”

  Their quartet barhopped several times, with casual conversation scattered throughout and Miles acting as both guide, and eventually, as designated driver. Wes downed a Long Island Iced Tea at each venue, with Mack and Reyes sticking to beer, so Wes was pretty drunk when they all arrived back at his apartment. He clung to Mack possessively, which worked because Wes was having trouble standing, and the whole thing was pretty damned amusing.

  Miles got the pull-out couch set up for Reyes to sleep on while Mack got some water into Wes before depositing him in bed. Wrestling a drunk, loose-limbed Wes out of his clothing was no easy task, but Mack managed, leaving him in his briefs. Tucking him in before shedding everything but Mack’s own boxers. Wes snuggled up close and tried to palm Mack’s dick through his shorts, but Mack gently turned Wes onto his side and spooned up close behind him.

  “No sex, daddy?” Wes whined.

  “Not tonight. Not while you’re drunk.” Mack made his tone as firm as possible with Wes’s mostly naked body tucked close to his.

  “You know I’d want it if I was sober.”

  “I know, but you’re not sober, and I’m not that guy. We can have sex in the morning, when you’re fully awake and aware, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now sleep. You had a big night and you deserve it.”

  “Thanks.” Wes mumbled something else that Mack didn’t catch.

  Mack lay awake for a while after Wes drifted off, memorizing the moment. The heat of Wes’s skin, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the beat of his heart beneath Mack’s palm. The sharp scent of sweat on his skin. The way Wes very quietly started to snore—a soothing rumble that helped Mack finally relax and close his eyes. Wes would still be there in the morning.

  But Mack had no idea what their futures would bring beyond tomorrow, now more than ever, and he’d make every moment he got with Wes count.

  Chapter Twenty

  Waking up with Wes pulled tight against his body was becoming Mack’s favorite thing in the world. Geoff hadn’t been much of a nighttime snuggler, preferring to keep to his side of their king bed. But Wes was one of the most tactile people he’d ever met, and Mack treasured that about him. He treasured a lot about Wes, and the thought filled him with equal parts wonder and worry.

  He squeezed Wes tighter. Wes snuffled and wriggled a bit, until Mack had mercy and let him breathe. “Morning,” Mack whispered.

  “Mmm.” Wes humped back against Mack’s morning wood. “Good morning.”

  “Eager much?”

  “What can I say?” Wes twisted around so they were facing each other, his face adorably sleep-rumpled. “My ass likes your dick.”

  “Well, that’s good, because my dick likes your ass.” Mack kissed him gently, unsure about Wes’s hangover status. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I could slam a sports drink or two, but this is nice, too.”

  “I can get you some water.”

  “Or you can kiss me like you mean it. We didn’t have sex last night, right?”

  “No.” Mack kissed the tip of his nose. “You were too drunk, and even though I knew you were into it, I won’t have sex with someone who’s drunk.”

  Wes smiled. “That’s very noble of you.”

  “It’s not noble, it’s practical and I wish more people did it.” His voice had risen too high by the end, and it had Wes studying his face a little too closely.

  “Did someone hurt you?” Wes asked, so softly Mack saw the words more than he heard them.

  Mack didn’t want to lie to Wes about anything, but this wasn’t his secret to reveal. “Not me personally, but someone I care about. Got drunk at a party, got taken advantage of by someone older and totally sober. I was their shoulder to lean on.”

  A question rose in Wes’s eyes, but he didn’t push. “Thank you for waiting until I was sober. I don’t ever want to forget the sex we have. It’s way too amazing.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Definitely.” One of Wes’s hands slipped down and groped Mack’s wood through his boxers. “Please tell me we’re having it now, because I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, boss.”

  That nickname always seemed to unravel Wes. He disappeared beneath the covers, and in moments, Mack’s boxers were down and a hot, wet mouth was on his dick.

  “Oh yeah.” Mack reached down to thread his fingers in Wes’s hair, holding without directing, because Wes was damned good at this part. Using his lips and that fucking silver stud to drive Mack out of his mind. Sucking and licking up and down his length. Taking him to the back of Wes’s throat several times. Doing things to him that only Wes could do, simply because it was Wes.

  Mack flipped the covers back so he could watch. Wes’s pink lips were stretched around his shaft, and he pulled off with a lewd pop. “Is Reyes a prude about loud sex noises?” Wes asked. “Because you know I can’t be quiet when you’re fucking me.”

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Get a condom.”

  Wes leered as he kissed the tip of Mack’s cock, then lurched toward the bedside table. That put his ass close enough for Mack to smack, getting a sharp yelp from Wes. A pretty red handprint appeared on Wes’s pale cheek.

  “Keep that up, and someone might come in to check on us,” Wes said. A drawer squeaked.

  Mack landed a second smack. “You never struck me as the shy type.”

  “I’m not.” Wes resettled so he was sitting on Mack’s belly, his own erection flush to his abs, a condom and lube in his hands. “But I’m also not much for having sex with an audience.”

  “Duly noted. Lube.” />
  Wes dropped it on his chest. Mack growled, then poured some onto his fingers. “Rise up,” he said. Wes lifted up on his knees so Mack could push a hand beneath him. Circle his hole with those lubed fingers. Wes reached back to pull his cheeks apart, giving Mack more room to prep him, moving together as fluidly as a couple who’d done this for years.

  Mack wanted to be doing this with Wes years from now, but thinking that far ahead was too big. Too scary. Living in this moment was easier.

  One finger slid in easy, so Mack pushed in two, watching Wes’s face for any sign of discomfort. All he saw was arousal and bliss, so Mack gently fucked those fingers in and out of Wes, revving him up and getting him ready. He curled his fingers to brush over Wes’s prostate, and Wes whined. A goddamn sexy sound no one else was ever allowed to hear, and Mack kept at that spot until Wes was leaking clear fluid.

  “God, fuck me now,” Wes begged. “Please.”

  Mack couldn’t manage the condom with one hand, so he reluctantly tugged free to take care of the rubber. Smeared more lube on his length, then nudged Wes backward. Pressure against his cockhead gave way, and Wes slowly sank down, spearing himself on Mack.

  Wes released a long, low moan as his ass came to rest on Mack’s upper thighs. Mack held him by the hips, waiting for Wes to adjust before urging him to move. Needing him to move, because Wes had all the control right now and the constant pressure around Mack’s dick was driving him a little nuts.

  “God, I love your dick,” Wes gasped. He looked down at Mack, something unspoken and a little bit scary shining in his eyes. “You gonna say it?”

  Mack wasn’t entirely sure what Wes meant. And then the scary thing turned into an amused sparkle, and Mack laughed. He loved that he could laugh during sex with Wes. “Ride ’em, cowboy.”

  “Oh yeah.” Wes rose up, high enough for Mack’s cockhead to catch on his rim, and then sank back down. A long, slow glide that made Mack groan. He kept that awful, wonderful slow pace for a while, taking his time. Torturing Mack by tweaking his nipples and rubbing that tongue stud over his own lips.