Remember the Alamo (Legacy Book 1)

by Rain Carrington

  He devoured Mac’s mouth, cutting off any further protests he could make. He felt the man melting in his arms, and knew he’d get what he wanted from him. Against the side of one of the stalls, he left Mac to find the rope he was fantasizing about, which was in neat coils on a peg near the door.

  Returning to Mac, who was panting as he flushed bright red, Leo soothed, “I’m going to make you forget everything for a little while. Not that this is all about you, mind. I want so much from you right now, Mac.”

  “Any-anythin’.”

  “I already told you, I’m not all into the bondage and discipling parts of bdsm, or anything, but I do want to tie you to this stable, so I can have my way with you. I don’t know if you’ve ever done this before, but there is usually a safeword. We’re not getting all that fancy. If you feel panicked over being bound here, just tell me. I’ll let you go.”

  “I’m fine, Leo.”

  His words were all coming breathlessly, and as the sweat rolled down his chest, Leo’s tongue licked his lips in anticipation. He worked quickly to tie each of Mac’s wrists to the top slat, bringing his arms out level to his shoulder.

  “Not too tight? Comfortable enough?”

  Mac’s head sagged a little, his pupils blown with how aroused he was. “I’m okay, it’s okay.”

  Leo grinned at him, unable to contain it. There was not one thought in his head about his father or the ranch or money. He was beautiful, hanging there like that, his legs weak, trembling, waiting for Leo’s touch. So open to whatever Leo wanted of him, Leo knew he’d never take that for granted. He knew the trust Mac had placed in him was precious and didn’t come easily.

  Leo stepped to him, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, then on his damp forehead, moving a curl from his cheek. “You’re amazing, Mac. I only hope I can be worthy of you someday.”

  He went to his knees, unfastening Mac’s jeans and pulling them down his legs, leaving them draped at the ankle to further limit his movement and he leaned in to give Mac’s dick the same peck he’d given his lips.

  The smell of him, male, sexual, wild, it wrapped around Leo’s entire being, making him forget that he was a human. Inside, his instincts took over, leaving out rational thought, love and tenderness a distant memory as every part of himself yearned for desperate, animal fucking.

  He started by sucking each of Mac’s balls into his mouth, rolling them on his tongue, bathing the salt from them until they were cleaned of the sweat from the work Mac had done.

  Inside of each leg was next, nipping the flesh with his teeth, licking long swaths, up and around, leading to his stomach, sucking the taste of the salt and musk from each hair.

  The chest was soon dried of sweat and wet with saliva, teeth marks around each nipple. Mac’s soft, airy groans were a sweet accompaniment to his languishing. His own grunts were foreign to him, coming from that place that had lost his own humanity.

  His underarms, they held a deeper male scent that Leo got lost in and Mac groaned louder as he sucked and licked there. Mumbled words between the noises couldn’t be made out, or he just didn’t understand them, being he could only focus on his need to taste ever bit of him.

  He wrapped a hand around Mac’s dick, sucking a hickey on his chest while stroking him, knowing he was close to blowing, and he didn’t care a bit. It was his own orgasm that would wait, building, wanting, until later that evening, when he was ready to be human again, ready to love again.

  He heard the rise of the pleas in Mac’s chest and he dropped back to his knees, famished for the last taste, the flavor of his seed. And he didn’t have to wait. The moment his lips wrapped around the crown, Mac blew, and he choked on a scream that started to echo in the stables, making it silent except for Leo’s slurping and swallowing.

  The taste of him, his cum mixing in with his fresh, wet sweat, all salt and man, he grew drunk on it, falling back as his body quaked, his mind numb. He gripped at the floor, gathering hay into his fists, his body turning and twisting as he experienced something he’d never felt before.

  Mac was yelling at him weakly, but he couldn’t respond more that to lift his hand into the air and give him a thumbs up. Then he heard Mac’s laughter.

  Once the spasms stopped, he looked up at Mac, grinning like a loon. “That was intense.”

  “You’re still hard! Ya didn’t even come!”

  He stared down at his dick and realized Mac was right. “I came, but no one told my dick. Don’t worry, I will before the night is over, baby.”

  Somehow, he got to his feet, his knees shaking, and got Mac untied. They both collapsed to the floor, holding each other while they laughed tiredly. “I didn’t get shit done today for work. I need to go and look at some of that paperwork at least.”

  “And set up a business model. Well, I s’pose we do that together.”

  “Yeah, we’ll do that tomorrow night. Tonight, get the horses bedded down and do whatever else you need to do. I’m going for a couple hours of looking through all those papers and pictures. I don’t know if we’ll find anything to help, but who knows? If we can at least find the people who lived in the slave quarters, we might be able to settle an old debt this land has had, and either leave the buildings alone or burn them down.”

  “I still say burn ‘em,” Mac growled.

  He helped Mac get his pants back on and fastened, then watched him start to tend the horses. His balls ached with the buildup he hadn’t let loose, and he loved it, knowing the wait would make the climax all that much better.

  He washed up and brushed his teeth once he was in the camper, then sat and glared at the pile of boxes on the table, the other seat and the floor. “Where the hell am I supposed to start?”

  He’d picked through the things that came from the more recent years, promising himself to go back and look at them later. He was after the ranch ledgers from the 1800s. There were several leather-bound books from those years, and he opened the first one that had the correct dates, the twenty years before the civil war.

  There were lists of finances, numbers in the plus and minus columns, then ranch hands, both steady and seasonal.

  He read when the buildings were built, the house was added onto with the addition of children.

  It was the family bible that accounted for the births and deaths of the members of the Blaylock clan. The first on the property, the one spoken about like mythology in the family was Jebediah Blaylock, though in the records it was shortened to Jeb more times than not. He homesteaded the land in 1837, when he was twenty years old. The birth records and death were recorded in that family bible, which was there, in the loft. Leo wondered why it wasn’t given a place of more prominence in the home, cherished in a safe or chest.

  The homestead deed was there, in the bible, between the books of Luke and John. Again, why it wasn’t given a place of respect and reverence, he would never know. It was like the family history was hidden away in that loft. He felt like an interloper, looking through them.

  That guilt was lessened, however, when he saw in the ledger he picked up after he’d set the bible down, the names of the first slaves on the property. The words that goaded him, buck, pickaninny, and negress caught his eye to describe the men, children and women. Leo stiffened as he saw, the names only the beginning of the hatred that rose.

  They were property, pure and simple. Not humans, but chattel, and though he’d known that, it didn’t lessen the blow, reading it. There were first names, generic names, all listed. Twenty in all, that he found, anyway.

  John, Mark, Luke, Matthew, Christianizing them. No last names to speak of, but most slaves weren’t given them, and took the last names of their owners if they did.

  About to give up, he reached for an old, rusted box that had a locking closure. It wasn’t hard to get open, the lock was rusted worse than the rest, and with one move of a butter knife, he was staring at yet more papers.

  He shifted through them but grew tired quickly. He decided to look again the following day and
got into the shower to ready for the night of romance he’d promised Mac.

  He wore his lounging clothes, cotton pants that were loose and comfortable, but still looked nice, and a matching white shirt, long sleeved but breathable. Picking his hair to tame it, he glanced over at the papers, the names of the people who’d lived on the property. Forced to live and work there, giving their lives for other people who didn’t see them as humans, equal in any way.

  He ran his fingers over the ledger, wondering if he’d ever find them. A part of him wishing he wouldn’t, but he knew that part was just his fear, Mac facing that hard truth.

  He went inside the house to find Mac whistling as he cooked some chicken and vegetables. It smelled heavenly, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “I guess I should have munched a few more of the kolaches,” he laughed. “I could eat all of this.”

  “I can make more or warm the kolaches, so eat what you want.”

  Leo turned to the cabinet to start getting their plates, but Mac stepped between him and the counter. “The table is set. Go relax in the livin’ room.”

  “Oh? You know, I was supposed to cook tonight.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I wanted to.”

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?”

  “Yeah. Now git.”

  Leo smiled all the way into the living room, but once he got there, he lost that smile and felt his jaw drop hard. The wagon wheel coffee table was covered in a lace cloth, and on top of it were seven taper candles in different holders, surrounded in the same rope he’d used on Mac in the stable.

  It was done like a setting he could have found in any designer magazine, rustic, beautiful. The settings were white china and there were even thick goblets for the wine that was chilling in a wooden feed bucket filled with ice. The entire effect was lovely, and that wasn’t all.

  The normal rag rugs were gone under the table and replaced with a series of pillows, taken from Mac’s father’s bed. They were set all the way around the table, so they’d be dining on them. The fire was cracking in the hearth, there were more candles on the mantel and music was playing low on the radio set on the end table by the couch.

  Mac was beside him and asked, “Is it okay?”

  “I…I was supposed to do this for you, baby.”

  “Nah, it was fun. I hope it ain’t too downhome for ya.”

  He turned right into his arms, brushing fingers over his cheeks. “Damn, it’s fucking perfect. It’s beautiful. You have quite the eye for this. From rancher to designer, I like it.”

  “It really was fun, and I wanted ta do somethin’ for ya. Ever since you got here…things just got better.”

  Again, a compliment he’d never gotten, and would cherish as long as he lived. “Get the food then, and let’s start our night.”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  It was magical, laying in front of the fire, he fed a bite of food to Mac, who fed him one in return. They talked quietly about simple things, nothing stressful to crowd in on their evening.

  There were soft kisses, long stares, caresses that came right from the heart. Every time he touched Mac, he felt closer to him, apart from the world around them, the two of them as one person.

  He’d been in love before, but never like that. Never so hard that he felt like crying when he looked at the man with the rush of intense feelings he had. Mac’s heart was pure, uncluttered by subterfuge or bragging. Open, tender and tough, all the things his perfect man should be was there in Mac.

  The fire was perfect, the warmth and the glow of it on Mac’s face. He saw the flames in Mac’s eyes, knew he could watch that for days without moving. “I didn’t know it could feel so good, ya know, bein’ with someone.”

  “Me either. I’ve never been with anyone like you, though.” He knew it was coming out of the part of him that was all emotion, but he couldn’t help it, and besides, Mac needed to hear it. “Mac, everything you do, you do with your whole heart and if I could go back and take everything bad that ever happened to you, I would. I want to keep you smiling, no matter what’s happening.”

  Mac kissed him lightly, laying on his side as he stared up at the sitting Leo. “Ya know, all my life I heard about this hero, the one that fought against Santa Anna and I knew I was supposed ta admire him, look up to him, but I didn’t know him. I didn’t see him, talk to him. You, Leo, yer my hero. You came here and helped me, and now I have someone to look up ta.”

  Leo moved over him, kissing deeply, holding his face, never wanting to let go. The fire flickered its light over them, Mac wrapped around him, their breath mixing together, their love growing by the second.

  As much as he wanted to make love, Leo knew there was something else he needed to do. “Baby, I found some stuff. It’s not enough to know your ancestor, but you can connect to them a little. I found your family bible.”

  “What is so important about that? We have four of the things here in the house. Not that Daddy ever read it, but he acted like a damn preacher.”

  “This one has your lineage in it. Births and deaths from before Jeb, the one who fought against Santa Anna.”

  Mac’s brows lifted, showing his interest. “Fine, we can go look. Then after, you and me, right back here, makin’ love.”

  “You got it, cowboy.”

  Holding hands, they left the comfort of their love nest, heading to Leo’s camper. Hefting the bible at him, Mac took it, huffing, “How many damn kids did they have?”

  They sat together on the chair and Mac’s eyes moved over the pages. “Look here, here’s Jebediah. Born 1807. I’ll be.”

  “That made him around thirty when he was in the war. He already had a family, look. His son, Wyatt, was, wow, fifteen!”

  Mac laughed at his shock. “Yeah, they had ‘em young back then.” He ran his hand over the names, musing, “This thing is old. Surprised it’s in one piece.”

  “Me too, actually. I think we should find a place in the house for it.”

  He set it aside and waved over the rest. “What’s all this?”

  “A mess. Old receipts for cattle, growth charts for the cotton your family used to grow, ranch hands, and…and I found some of the documents about the slaves, but only first names so far, no pictures yet, if there were any at all. This could be a rough search. Those shacks may fall down before we can find who lived in them.”

  “Can’t say as I’d be mad at that,” he commented.

  Leo got up and leaned on the sink counter, fishing for the right words. He didn’t want to freak Mac out, especially if it turned out to be nothing important. “It’s just…okay, Mac, why did your family keep all these important things out there, in the loft of the barn? Why not store that family bible in the house, or fucking museum! That thing is like two hundred years old. The papers, everything, it could all be used by the historical society, by genealogy foundation. Not that I think they gave a shit about the slaves, but these records can help them find where they came from too.”

  Mac’s head hung as he picked through the papers, not really looking at any of them. “I gotta admit, I really didn’t care about these papers. I had Jeb Blaylock’s legacy shoved down my throat my whole life.” He glanced at Leo sheepishly. “I never paid attention in school when they taught us about the Alamo, Santa Anna, Houston, any of it. I didn’t want to hear it.”

  Leo reached for his hand, but when he grabbed it, Mac pulled away, which surprised him. “Mac…”

  “No, Leo, this isn’t okay. I never so much as looked up in that loft. Here you are, not here for long, and you know more than me about my own family.”

  “I don’t know all that much, baby, and we’re learning a lot of this together. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Most people don’t know a fraction of what you do about family members that lived that far back. Like you said, the legend of Jeb Blaylock towered over you, this land and every person after him. All thriving to keep the place intact and fruitful when so many lost theirs along the way. What you were taught is how to keep the
land for the next generation, not for the past ones. What your daddy did, well, he failed that. It’s on you to save it, if that’s what you want to do.”

  Mac slapped a hand on the stack of papers in front of him, raising a cloud of dust with it. “Save it by turnin’ it inta a gay Dollywood.”

  “Mac, Dollywood is gay Dollywood. You’re turning this place into a gay rodeo.”

  Mac started laughing and confessed, “I never got laid so much in my life as when the rodeo was in town, so a rodeo is a gay rodeo.”

  Not letting him pull away again, Leo dragged him out of the seat and into his arms, holding him while smelling the Texas night in his hair. “Baby, I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  “So will I, Leo.”

  “I think we need some help.”

  Sighing deep, Mac relented, “I know we do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  That night, they made love, and the more Mac held him after, the more he wondered if the sex was better than that, the after.

  Having a man in bed with him, long after the sex was over, he wasn’t used to it. His heart filled as Leo’s fingers skimmed over his side, tickling him but he wasn’t laughing. It felt so good that laughter wasn’t quite enough of an expression.

  Leo’s dark skin in the dim light of the bedroom, it glowed. It made no sense to him, but it did, every luscious line of him. As his hand rested on Mac’s hip, Mac felt as if he was being claimed by that seemingly innocuous gesture. Mix that with the way Leo’s eyes were locked on his, daring him to look away, which he’d never do, and Mac felt the man’s control over him.

  It shouldn’t feel as good as it did. He’d been under a thumb all his life, but this didn’t feel like that. Leo’s control was bringing out the best in him, letting him see the things he didn’t know was there, like courage. He owed the man so much, and Leo was still giving.

  “We should get some sleep. Long day ahead. Shit, long weeks ahead.”

  “Is it bad that I never wanna sleep around you? That I could miss somethin’, it kills me.”