Changes Coming Down

by Kaje Harper

  “Don’t take all night then.” He shifted his weight, needing to be filled again. Then Casey’s hands found his shoulders, skimmed down his back, and gripped his hips. He lifted his ass and felt Casey’s erect length slide along his crack. “In.”

  “Yeah.” The smooth tip of Casey’s cock pressed against him with all that size and hardness behind it.

  He grunted as his body gave way, opening more and more, and Casey leaned into him. “Good.”

  “You two are so damned hot together.” Scott’s voice was hoarse but still controlled. “Casey’s fat dick and Will’s gorgeous ass. I never get tired of that.”

  Casey flexed and thrust, working a rhythm now, sliding deeper into Will. “Big talk… top man.”

  “Ready?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  The bed sagged and creaked as Scott got on, kneeling behind Casey. Suddenly Will needed to see it. He turned his cheek on the pillow and opened his eyes.

  Scott liked mirrors, and Will had come to appreciate them. Especially at moments like this. The big glass over the dresser was angled to show the whole bed. There he was, chest on the sheets, rump in the air, with his ass gleaming white and his farmer’s tan arms, his knees spread and braced. Behind him, Casey’s burly body, furry and strong, flexed and curled with the rhythm of his slow, deep thrusts. And behind him, Scott was kneeling erect. His big, thick, lube-shiny cock arched out proudly, and his toned body was perfection, all hard curves and long lines in the lamplight.

  Will watched as Scott gripped Casey’s hips, stilling him. Watched as Scott leaned in slowly, slowly, guiding his cock, parting Casey’s cheeks, sliding, sinking in. Casey groaned. Will felt his shudder through his own body. He pushed up on his arms, and Casey leaned forward, chest on Will’s back, as Scott breached him with nine inches of hard thickness.

  “Christ.” Will managed a whisper. “So hot.”

  Scott met his eyes in the mirror, his grin wide and wild. “Yeah, oh yeah. You good, Casey?”

  “Move,” Casey demanded.

  “Gonna fuck you. Fuck you both.” Scott’s hips flexed, and Casey grunted, strong arms with that Semper Fi banner on his bicep clutching Will, thick neck straining as his head arched back. So damned hot. Will gasped as the next thrust drove Casey deep inside him.

  “Jesus.” They pretty much said it together.

  Scott did it again, harder. And again.

  Will closed his eyes, braced himself, and hung on against the building heat and sweat, against the deep slow drive of Casey in him, the grunts and shudders as Casey was fucked by Scott. They went faster and faster, breaths catching and gasping, skin sliding on damp skin, soft grunts and curses as they slammed together.

  Will whined. He was so, so close, but he couldn’t spare a hand to touch himself, braced as he was. Casey filled him, nudging his gland on each stroke, stretching him to the point of prickly burning that sent him higher, closer.

  “Oh shit,” Casey groaned. “Oh God, oh guh, gu, ah.” His arms clamped tight around Will and he shuddered, jerking, coming. Will braced as Casey’s weight came down on him, his ragged breaths hot against Will’s neck. Scott didn’t let up the rhythm until Casey gasped, “Too much. Off.”

  They fell apart, Will still hard and aching, needing to come. He rolled on his side, reached for himself, but Scott said, “No. On your knees.”

  Will glanced at him. Scott was still hard too. As Will rolled back to his knees, Scott lubed his cock again and moved behind him, sitting back on his heels with that big prick arching up. “Sit on me, William.”

  “God, yes.” Will got himself into position, his back to Scott’s chest, and slowly leaned back. Scott guided his cock against Will’s needy hole. Will sank down, his thighs trembling, feeling the added stretch of Scott inside him.

  “Take it,” Scott whispered against his neck. “All of it. Sit on me and drive my dick all the way up your ass.”

  Will shuddered. Scott wrapped his arms around him. Will began flexing, up and down, working Scott just a little deeper, a little deeper. Then he groaned loudly as Casey stretched out a hand and closed his fingers around Will’s erection. Casey matched his rhythm, stroking his cock in a firm grip as Will fucked himself on Scott. Jesus Christ! It took just a few moments for his climax to spark through him in a jagged white-fire rush. His balls drew up, his whole groin pulsed with heat. Scott’s dick drove the spunk out of him, and he shot between Casey’s fingers as his ass clamped down hard on Scott.

  Scott bit Will’s neck, right at the shoulder, and groaned between his teeth. Will felt Scott shudder as he came, stretching and filling him, impossibly deep. He whimpered, helpless, caught between the fire in his ass and the electric heat of his dick, still coming in little jolting spurts that turned his muscles to water and his vision black.

  “Oh, God,” he chanted. “Oh, God. Oh, God!”

  Scott unclamped from his neck and laughed softly against his skin. “Damn, Will, you are so fucking hot like that.”

  Will put his hand over Casey’s to still it. “Thanks Case, seriously. So good.”

  Casey said, “I love that, watching you two.”

  On shaking knees, Will rose up and off, with Scott’s hands on his hips steadying him. Casey passed them a couple of wipes and they all did a bit of cleanup before collapsing in a tangle of arms and legs. Surprisingly it was Scott who said, “Hold me, guys?”

  They wrapped Scott in between them, with his back to Will and his face in Casey’s chest. Will murmured against his neck, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just sometimes I realize how much I need this, how perfect it is, you know? And then I get a flash of what I’d be like without you two.”

  “You have us,” Casey assured him. Will made a noise of assent.

  “Promise?” Scott said thinly. “Both of you? Promise me that if things go nuclear at some point you won’t just walk off into the dark and leave me.”

  Will hesitated, because various versions of going nuclear had been the scenarios haunting him all night long, and some of them had involved getting the next bus out of town. He’d been alone for so long, sometimes he still didn’t quite believe he’d get to keep this. Surely someday he’d find himself out on the road again. Who’d want a broke, out-of-work cowboy?

  But Scott whispered, “Please? I need to hear it. Promise me?”

  Casey said, “I promise. No running.”

  After a long pause, Will echoed him, “Me too. Promise.”

  ***

  By Monday, Casey was a wreck. Not on the outside, but down where it counted. He’d spent most of his supposed day off in the station, going over truck registrations and accident reports. He’d put out an alert to all the area garages and salvage yards and paint shops, for a green truck with gray paint scrapes on it. He’d even, just for thoroughness, put together a list of people who might have wanted the Slaters dead, although that was one hell of a long shot.

  It didn’t come to much anyway. There was Landon Slater, if one could believe he would kill off his grandparents to inherit the ranch. He was known to like high living and the property was worth a helluva lot. But Casey didn’t think he was that kind of bastard.

  There was the nebulous buyer who’d made an offer through Peterson’s Realty. Annmarie had refused to sell— maybe someone had decided to change her mind the permanent way. Or maybe it was Peterson himself, if you could believe the man would commit murder for seven percent of a million-dollar sale. Seventy K wasn’t a bad chunk of change, but Ralph Peterson was fifty, had bought and sold plenty of property around town, and had never had more than a speeding ticket.

  Then there were possible personal motives, but once again, after Landon, he was drawing a blank. Annmarie had offended a few people with her outspokenness, but hardly enough to kill her. It was difficult to even know where to start looking.

  He checked with the Iowa City cops and confirmed that Landon had been home that night when they did the notification. There was no way he could’ve gotten from the acci
dent scene to Iowa in that amount of time. Landon had one DUI and a whole slew of unpaid parking tickets, but that hardly made the man a murderer.

  The coroner confirmed that Graham had been healthy until the moment of his death from neck trauma. There was no sign of a heart attack or stroke.

  Casey’d sent the tire tracks and damage pictures off to an accident investigator he knew, a fellow Marine who’d ended up in Vegas. It only took an hour to get a reply. The guy tended to agree with Jason’s opinion. The truck was hit, probably twice at different angles, before going off the edge, leaving full-brakes rubber on the pavement. Manslaughter at best. Murder at worst.

  And tomorrow Casey might lose his job.

  All day long, he’d had people hinting around the topic. Even the punk kid he pulled over for speeding had asked whether he’d have to pay the fine if Casey lost his job before the court date.

  Casey ground his teeth, remembering the sneer on the jerk’s face. He’d come within an inch of rearranging it into a better expression with his fist, before he’d caught himself. Stress. He hadn’t come that close to hitting someone just for words in years.

  He turned the patrol car and headed out of town, letting Alanis know he’d be at the Tri-Cross. It was good policing to check up on possible murder victims, in case this was more complicated than the accidental hit-and-run it looked like. It was just coincidence that Will would be there.

  When he pulled up by the barn, Todd was standing there in his tailored clothes and classic bomber jacket, talking to Will. From the tightness of Will’s lips, he wasn’t enjoying the conversation.

  Casey strode up to them, rolling his gait like he used to on patrol when he moved in on a fight. He wasn’t tall, but he knew how to make the most of the bulk he had. “Hey, Todd. Fancy finding you here.”

  Todd turned, his professional smile in place. “Hey Casey. I was just assuring the good folks of the Tri-Cross that when the sheriff’s office changes hands we’ll be making every effort to find the person who ran the Slaters off the road.”

  Casey gritted his teeth. “And you imagine there is such a person, why?”

  Todd laughed. “Come on, Casey, you don’t think you can put a hit-and-run bulletin out to both garages and Arnold’s salvage and not have the word get around. Are you saying it’s not about the Slaters’ accident?”

  “No.”

  “So, I’m making sure the citizens feel safe and protected during the transition period.”

  Will said loudly, “Since there won’t be any transition, I told him it was a wasted trip. We have a great sheriff right now and we’re gonna keep him.”

  “Oh wow, Casey, you have some fans here. How nice.” Todd said to the three ranch hands lurking behind Will, “Don’t worry, guys. I don’t take it personally.”

  Will looked inclined to make it personal and Casey found himself in the backward position of keeping Will from blowing it. “I think you’ve said your bit, Todd. Why don’t you go back to your nice pep rally? Now.”

  Todd gave him a cool look, got into his shiny truck, and drove out the gate.

  Will muttered, “I hope he takes out his suspension in the potholes.”

  Casey laughed, though he didn’t really feel amused. “Unfortunately, those are some nice wheels he’s got. Probably good enough to handle it. Was he here long?”

  “Nope. Ten minutes.”

  “He didn’t go in the house or anything?”

  “The dogs don’t like him. He didn’t wander.”

  As if in fellow feeling, the bigger Blue Heeler came and pressed his muzzle against Casey’s hand. He rubbed the dog’s head, “Good boy, Dingo.”

  “Why are you asking about the house?”

  Casey shrugged. “It’s usual practice when someone’s killed, even in a hit-and-run, to check them out, see if anyone left any nasty messages, that kind of thing. Do you have keys?”

  “Yeah.” Will reached slowly into his pocket, pulled out a leather key folder, and shook one free. “This is the front door. You don’t think there’s anything there, do you? I mean, it was just a hit-and-run.”

  “Ninety-nine percent odds. But I’m going to do it by the book. I want this solved before Todd comes into office. Whatever he may say about taking crime seriously.”

  “That douchecanoe couldn’t find a criminal if the guy was running around in striped pajamas.”

  The echo of Scott’s vocabulary made Casey smile. “I hope for the sake of the county that isn’t true.” He only then realized he’d said “before Todd comes into office,” not if, but it was too late to backtrack. Damn it, even he was assuming he was going to lose. He turned and stomped off to the big house.

  He spent a fruitless hour finding nothing more suggestive than an old defaulted loan from the Slaters to their now-dead daughter and a stash of candy bars in Annmarie’s bedside drawer. He was standing in the study, wondering what he should do next, when the mail truck pulled into the yard. He saw one of the cowboys walk over and then call for Will. Will came out of the barn, wiping his hands on his thighs, and went to meet the mail carrier. Whatever he was getting, he had to sign for it.

  Casey locked the house door and wandered over to the paddock, where Will stood against the rail, the unopened express envelope in his hand. “Problem?”

  “I don’t know. It was overnighted from some lawyer’s office.”

  “Why don’t you bring it inside. It’s damned cold out here. It’s a lot warmer in the big house, or we could go to yours?”

  “Yeah.” For a minute Will stood there, tapping the envelope against the rail. Then he turned with a patently false smile. “Sure. Big house is closer.”

  Casey let them in since he still had the keys. Will stopped short in the entry as Casey closed the door.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Huh? No. Just… this is the first time I’ve been in here since they were, um, gone. Feels strange.” Will shrugged, kicked off his boots, and headed toward the kitchen.

  He sat at the table, grabbing a letter opener out of a jam jar of pens. Casey sat beside him. Will slit the envelope and tipped out an inner envelope and sheet of paper. Casey watched his face as he read the short note, then picked up the second envelope.

  Will turned it over and over in his hands. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “What?”

  Will pushed the papers to him. The note read,

  From Torrens, Meisser and Dainbridge, Attorneys at Law.

  Mr. Rice,

  The enclosed is from Graham and Annmarie Slater. I was instructed, upon their deaths, to immediately forward it to you. Their will and other legal matters will be handled on a normal schedule, but they wanted you to have this without delay. My condolences on your loss. Chris Dainbridge.

  Casey picked up the sealed envelope. Will’s name was written on the outside in an elegant cursive hand. From picking through their papers, Casey recognized it as Graham Slater’s, rather than Annmarie’s small decisive printing. “Are you going to read it?”

  Will shook his head back and forth jerkily.

  “They made some effort to get it to you.”

  “I know. I can’t.” Will blew out a breath. “You read it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Open the damned thing.” Will held out the opener.

  Casey reluctantly slit the envelope. There was one piece of paper inside. He unfolded it. “It’s a letter.”

  “Read it.”

  “Out loud?”

  “No. Yes. Okay.”

  “Yes?”

  Will swallowed and waved a hand at him.

  Casey cleared his throat. “It’s dated five months ago. ‘Dear Will, If you’re reading this, it means we’re dead. I’d get a kick out of actually writing that kind of melodrama if I didn’t know how much this must hurt you. Sorry, Will. I’d hoped we’d live forever. But if you’re getting this version then at least Annmarie and I went close together. I hope we never had time to miss each other.’”

  Will drag
ged in a shaky breath, and Casey paused.

  “Go on.”

  “‘William, you’ve been like a son to us. I haven’t for one moment regretted taking on that dirty, skinny kid with the hope in his eyes and the hurts written on his skin. You’re exactly the man I’d want any child of mine to be. And you know what you’ve done for the ranch, especially since I got to where I can’t do it myself. You’ve already more than paid back anything we ever gave you.

  “‘We love that damned ranch, and we know you love it too, and we all know Landon doesn’t. But he’s our flesh and blood, our daughter’s boy. He’s all that’s left of Annmarie’s blood. She says I have to add, “and of mine,” but you and I both know whose legacy we really want the world to have.

  “‘Anyway, we want you to have the ranch, but we can’t just give all of Landon’s inheritance to you.’”

  Will looked up from staring at the table. “I wouldn’t want them to. I never asked for it.”

  “I’m sure they knew that. This is about what they want.” He read on. “‘There isn’t close to enough cash to make up the difference. We’re land rich, money poor. So what we’ve done is leave the ranch equally to you both. Half shares. The odds are good Landon will want to sell his half.’”

  Will said, “What? That’s… They didn’t need to do that. Why?”

  “There’s more,” Casey said. “‘We’ve added a clause that he has to give you right of first refusal if he wants to sell, with the price set at fair market value. I know the chances are you won’t be able to pay it, but you might get a mortgage and buy some of it. We want to give you the chance. Or maybe you’ll find someone who wants to chip in?’” Casey squinted at the page. “This bit is in Annmarie’s writing. ‘You aren’t fooling us, William dear. Get Casey and Scott to help you. And don’t ever be ashamed of who you love, even if you have practical reasons to hide it. Let them in, you hear me, son?’”

  Will rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I didn’t know she knew. I mean, there were a few times I wondered. But she never said.”