by E M Lindsey
He was more than grateful when the ceremony was over, and after being dragged into photo after photo, James managed to extract himself and seize Rowan by the hand, pulling him to the fringes of the crowd. He liked the celebration—he liked being there with his family, and feeling just how connected they all were.
But he’d been craving a moment of solitude and silence since it all began.
“You okay?” Rowan asked as they sank down onto a bench that faced the main road. Tombstone was dark, and it was quiet. Most of the tourists had gone off, aside from a few waiting for the late-night ghost tours. He could hear music from one of the restaurants, and soon enough the reception would start and he’d have to put on another smile.
“I’m exhausted. I want to go home,” he admitted.
He could see Rowan’s brows dip, even in the dim light of a far-off street lamp. “We can, you know. I don’t think anyone will care if we decide to bail early.”
James breathed out through his nose and allowed himself to feel the guilt of needing space from all of this. “Let’s see how we feel tomorrow. I mean, I did want a vacation with you.”
Rowan hooked his knuckle under James’ chin and turned his head so their eyes could meet. “On our terms,” Rowan reminded him. “This was a compromise, and everyone is stretched thin.”
James closed his eyes and just let himself feel the warmth of his lover’s hand, of his presence which allowed his bones to settle. He shifted a little closer, then breathed in the scent of him. “Let’s go home soon.”
“Okay,” Rowan said, and James could hear the grin in his voice.
They danced a while at the reception, and ate, then James let himself feel the pain of being in his prosthetics too long and they left everyone to the party as they got back to the house. It was dark, and the air was cooler, and he laughed hard when Rowan crowded him up against the front door and slid his thigh between his spread legs.
“Alone at last,” Rowan murmured, his mouth open against James’ pulse point.
James groaned, arching into his lover’s touch. “Been waitin’ for this all night, darlin’.”
“Good. Because so have I.”
They made their way upstairs in fits and bursts, stopping every so often to kiss, for James to shove his hand down Rowan’s pants and brush his cock with the flat of his hand, for Rowan to knead fingers into the fleshy parts of James’ ass. What he wanted to do was strip down and take him right there in the hall, and he was damn near close to it by the time they reached the top of the landing.
“Fuck,” James said. His pants were at his ankles, and his stumps were on fire. “Fuck, I need to get out of my legs.”
“Let me,” Rowan said.
James might have balked—because he only liked this every so often. Rowan was strong enough to hold him up, and they’d fucked that way more than once at home with Rowan snapping his hips and thrusting into his ass while holding him against the wall.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, James knew this was a terrible idea. Anyone could walk in at any time, but somehow that made him want it more—and he had never been an exhibitionist before. But something about seeing Rowan possess him—something about everyone knowing Rowan owned him in every single way—set his blood on fire.
“I’ve got you,” Rowan murmured as he released the suction on James’ legs and rolled his sleeves down. He felt the absence of pressure like a breath of air, and he wrapped his thighs around Rowan’s waist and let him use the wall to brace his back. “God, you are so beautiful.”
James’ head thumped back against the wall as Rowan closed his hand around James’ dick, his other one holding him by the ass. It felt unstable and precarious and glorious and so fucking erotic, James knew he didn’t need much to come.
“I want you. God, darlin’, I want you so bad.”
“You’ve got me. Every single piece of me,” Rowan murmured. He surged in, kissing James as his hand began to move, and James felt the hot, fiery rush of it fill his limbs. “I will always be yours.”
Everything faded into white noise except Rowan’s hot breath panting against his neck, the hand on his ass, and the fingers curled around his dick. His balls went tight, and his hips arched slightly as he came. He let out a chest-deep groan as he spilled, Rowan stroking him through it, and he started to catch his breath as he tightened his grip on his lover.
“That was…”
His words died off when the door opened, and both of them turned their heads to see Wyatt walking in with Apollo on his harness.
“Anyone here?” Wyatt called.
They slowly locked gazes and Rowan mouthed, ‘Fuck,’ as Wyatt started toward the stairs.
James motioned for him to move, so Rowan spun, holding James tight as he stumbled toward the room, and he made it inside just in time to drop James on the bed when he lost his grip.
“James?” Wyatt called again, and James squeezed his eyes shut tight.
“Yeah uh…sorry. We’re in the bedroom. I just got tired.”
“Apparently,” Wyatt said, and James looked over to see him standing in the doorway. “Can you do me a quick favor?”
“Anything,” James said, giving Rowan a slightly panicked look considering he was half naked with his limp dick resting on his stomach.
“Next time you two fuck in the hallway then run, take your legs with you?”
At that, Rowan burst into laughter, pressing his face into the center of James’ chest. “Jesus Christ,” James groaned, passing a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, man.”
Wyatt grinned and shook his head as he took a step back. “It’s fine. I’m glad you just came back for this. Mat was a little bit worried when you two left.”
“I promise, we’re good,” Rowan said, his voice low and husky.
Wyatt shook his head, then took a step back. “Alright. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
James didn’t breathe until they heard the front door close, and then Rowan carefully extracted himself from James’ arms to fetch his legs and jeans which were still lying in the hall. He heard them thump next to the bed, then Rowan was back, carefully stripping out of his clothes, and he used the edge of his shirt to clean the drying spunk off James’ stomach.
“That was fuckin’ mortifying,” James murmured, and Rowan kissed the edge of his heated jaw.
“Could have been worse,” Rowan said. “He could have walked in as you were coming.”
“He practically did. It reeks like semen,” James groaned. “He’s gonna tell all those assholes too.”
Rowan was grinning too wide for James to really care much, even though he knew the mocking was going to be merciless, and endless. But he settled back into himself as Rowan curled up around him, pressing his half-hard dick between his thighs and holding him with an arm around his stomach.
“I kind of liked it,” Rowan said after a beat, and kissed the top of James’ shoulder. “It was thrilling.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” James grumbled, mostly because if Rowan did, there would be no stopping either of them.
“Mm. Never.” Rowan kissed him again, and then again, wet and open-mouthed against the back of his neck. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything, darlin’,” James said, feeling fatigue settle in, making his limbs feel heavy and slow.
“I’m never leaving you.”
James froze, but couldn’t find words as Rowan’s breathing got a little heavier, his grip a little tighter.
“You could leave me, and I wouldn’t make your life miserable by trying to force you to stay, but you need to know that I’m in this for good. For all of it. We don’t need a piece of paper to tell us shit, but we do need this vow right here.”
“Rowan,” James started, but Rowan tightened his arm and James went quiet.
“I’m in this for good. Forever. It’s you and me, and nothing will change that. Ever. I’m so in love with you, and not a day has gone by that I’ve second guessed, or wondered what life would be
like if you hadn’t come for me after my mom died. I’m never going to propose to you, because I know that’s not what you need.”
“Yeah?” James managed to choke out, and Rowan chuckled softly against the back of his shoulder.
“Yeah. You just need this promise, right here, between the two of us. This is it.”
James dislodged Rowan’s grip on him, turning and hooking his stump over Rowan’s thigh. There was space between them, and he dragged the tips of his fingers down the center of Rowan’s chest, down to his leg where the ink James had put there was still bright and bold. A mark of them—of who they were, and who they’d become. Together.
“This is it,” James repeated. He didn’t have fancy words the way Rowan did, but he knew his lover didn’t need them. He could feel it, in the way James held him, in the press of their kiss, in the way James held his gaze and didn’t let go.
This was it.
* * *
Fin.
Mat and Wyatt
The Wedding
One
The Wedding
Mat woke to a sound that had become familiar over the last couple of weeks, and he didn’t bother opening his eyes, he just reached out. His hand came into contact with Wyatt’s back, curling into his shirt, tugging gently until the other man rolled against his front and the quiet, French swearing went silent.
“Hey, cowboy.” His voice was thick with sleep, his tongue heavy, and he was hoping for a few more hours, but he was willing to let sleep go.
“They’re on the road,” Wyatt said. His accent always got a little thicker when he spoke to his family. It was like a subconscious thing, knowing they were on their way.
Not all of Wyatt’s family had responded to the invite. Two of his brothers, and his dad. His mother hadn’t quite forgiven him for the send-off, and his brothers let their pride get in the way of admitting they were wrong about Wyatt’s ex. He knew it hurt him, and he knew that there was a gaping hole in their wedding because for all that Wyatt wanted freedom from their suffocating love, he still wanted them there.
Mat’s fingers crept up Wyatt’s side, curling around his chest, and he pressed his palm flat against where his heart was beating a little too fast for resting in bed. His lips brushed along the back of his neck, and he breathed in the scent of him.
“Almost-husband.” Mat felt Wyatt’s body instantly relax, and he grinned, because he knew that was going to do the trick. It always did. He kissed him again, and then again, and again until Wyatt turned and cupped Mat’s cheek with one hand.
He opened his eyes finally, the world a massive blur from lack of sleep, and from the dim haze of pre-dawn. But Mat knew every nook and cranny of his almost husband’s features, and he leaned in and brushed parted lips against the spot right at the edge right where his jaw met his earlobe. Right where it made Wyatt shiver and groan.
“We’re getting married today,” he reminded him,
Wyatt kissed him, full on the mouth, tongue a little sour from sleeping all night, but Mat didn’t give a single shit. He opened to him, let Wyatt push him onto his back as they kissed. Wyatt’s thighs settled on either side of his, and his warm, hard cock rubbed up against his own which was starting to wake up.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay, mon âme.”
Mat let out a slow breath and traced the tip of his finger around Wyatt’s furrowed brows. “It’s not going to be okay, it’s going to be perfect. We’re going to profess our love to each other, and I don’t give a shit who else hears it. The only one that matters is you.”
Wyatt’s dancing eyes were wide there in the dark, and he never looked more beautiful to Mat than in that moment. “Mateo…”
Mat silenced him by dragging a hand between them and curling his long fingers around both their cocks. He leaned up and took Wyatt’s mouth again, swallowing his groans, matching the rhythm of Wyatt’s hips with his hand. He could feel him close, feel him start to shudder.
“Come on, cowboy. Take it—take what you need. Feel how much I fucking love you.”
Wyatt was clearly wound up, because it took only a few strokes for him to come, his whole body shaking with a single tremor as he spilled over Mat’s knuckles. His fingers dug into the skin on Mat’s naked arms, and his breath hitched in his chest as he slumped over into the mess.
“You didn’t come,” Wyatt said after a beat.
Mat laughed and dragged his unsoiled hand through Wyatt’s hair. “I don’t need to.”
“I beg to differ,” Wyatt said, and lifted his face with a grin. He slid down, and Mat’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his cock was swallowed down to the root.
I will never get used to this—his last coherent thought before Wyatt sucked his brains right out of his dick.
When he recovered himself, though speech was somewhere off in the distance and he wasn’t in a hurry to find it, Wyatt had curled up around him. Mat was fairly sure he’d gotten something to clean them up with, because he smelled faintly like soap, and he smiled as Wyatt traced fingers over his collarbones, over the abstract ink splashes he’d gotten over the last couple of weeks.
They were mostly healed, but still tactile enough that Wyatt enjoyed dragging his hands over them, like the work was a canvas of braille.
“Thank you,” Wyatt murmured, and kissed the back of Mat’s ear. “I feel…a little bit foolish for being so worried.”
Mat took a breath and tried to make sure his words came out clear. “It’s us, remember? You and me.”
Wyatt hummed, laying kisses to the tops of his shoulders. “I can’t wait for the honeymoon. I know that this part is important, but having time with you—alone, no work, no obligations…”
Mat knew exactly what he meant. Going back to school, moving into a new home, trying to balance what they were with who they had been—it was a lot. There were times when the hours apart felt like months, and it left Mat aching deep behind his ribs.
He couldn’t help the quiet fear that Wyatt would get tired of it, that Mat’s life was just too much for him. And he knew there was a small piece of Wyatt waiting for Mat to find someone else—younger, less complicated. They were a map of messes and issues, but he looked forward to following it for every single second Wyatt would give him.
“What’s on the agenda,” he asked after a long while of basking.
Wyatt hummed, sounding more tired than before. “Tony said he’s going to take me to the garden so I can learn it a little bit better, then we’re going to take Apollo to the park before the ceremony.”
Mat turned and framed Wyatt’s face between his hands, watching the light play off his eyes that were moving a little more recklessly than usual—and he knew it was from stress. “Are you saying the next time we see each other…”
“We’ll be getting married.”
“Fuck,” Mat breathed, and Wyatt laughed before leaning in and kissing him until neither of them could breathe.
Wyatt didn’t experience sensory overload often, but he supposed the nerves of getting married to the love of his life, to a man who made him feel like he could reach out and touch the stars, would be the thing to do it. He spent the day in a half-state of panic, though he’d heard a rumor Mat was far worse than he was the entire day. But he learned the rose garden as best he could, then he and Tony spent an hour taking Apollo around the park so Wyatt would be able to move around a little more freely with him during the reception.
By the time the tables were set, and the flowers were placed in the center, and the park had been roped off so wandering tourists wouldn’t help themselves to their little wedding banquet, it was time. He and Tony went back to the rental Tony had gotten for the couples with kids, and he made quiet jokes to soothe Wyatt’s nerves as he put on his suit.
“I can’t believe you guys aren’t doing the whole cowboy thing,” he said once Wyatt was buttoned up.
“Neither of us want heat stroke,” Wyatt confessed, and in reality, what they looked like didn’t matter to him. The only thing
in the world he wanted was to speak his vows and hear them pronounced married so he could get on with his happily ever after.
He was glad Tony didn’t want to linger, glad they waited until the last minute to get ready, because he wasn’t sure his nerves would be able to take it. He was soothed by the quiet clink of Apollo’s harness, comforted by the routine of giving commands as they made their way to the rose garden, but it didn’t last. Not when he could hear his brothers conversing rapidly in French, and when he could hear the low din of the rest of his Fairfield family who all went suddenly and deathly quiet when he and Tony appeared at the head of the aisle.
The music was on in the background, soft and soothing, and Wyatt passed Apollo’s leash over just before another arm took his. He didn’t bother to try and look at him—he would know his touch anywhere.
“Ready, cowboy?”
Wyatt’s cheeks hurt from holding back his smile. “I am.”
They walked together, not to the wedding march—to something else Mat had chosen that Wyatt didn’t give a shit about. He could feel all the eyes on them as they made their way to the front, and he took a breath because he knew what was coming next.
“Well, well,” and it wasn’t his Doc Holliday, but it was close, and Wyatt knew the man had been expensive. “Two fellas—this is a first for me,” his words were vaguely slurred, and he coughed, Wyatt unable to hold back his smile now. “But I have to say I’m more than pleased to see two people so in love ready to make their vows before man and God.”
Wyatt lost the thread for a while, lost in the feeling of Mat so close to him, of existing in a life he didn’t think he could have, of using this moment to tie himself to it forever. The tether felt physical, and he wanted to be bound.
“We’d like to say our own vows,” Mat said, and Wyatt tried to refocus, “if that’s okay.”
“You’d both be real daisies if you did.”