by BA Tortuga
Stetson nodded. “I was.”
“Why didn’t you ever… I mean, I never knew.” He wasn’t one for worrying on things he might have done in the past, but this smacked of a lot of wasted opportunity.
“I was just another face. I just wanted to see the rodeo. Sometimes you rode, sometimes I wasn’t at the right day.”
“Oh.” Was that good or bad? He guessed it didn’t matter much, the way Stetson said it. “Okay.”
“You’re my one and only, Curtis. I knew you’d moved on. I wanted to pretend that…. Shit, man. I don’t know. Which answer will make me seem less desperate and lonely?”
“Hey.” He caught Stetson’s hand in his. “Neither. I guess I just needed to know you wanted to see me ride. Me, not Joe Cowboy. I’m a vain bastard, huh?”
“I have never missed a single televised ride. Ever.”
He squeezed Stetson’s hand. “I do love you, Roper. I always have. I may have stepped out, tried to find something else, but it was always you.” It took him a while to figure some things out. This he had down, now. He wanted to be with Stetson.
Hell, he wanted it so much he’d gone down to Santa Fe and bought a ring. When he won the event tomorrow, he was gonna pop the question.
He refused to believe that there was another answer.
“Good. I’m yours now, one way or the other.” Stetson scooped up a fingerful of cream-cheese icing. “Open up.”
Curtis opened his mouth, and Stetson rubbed the frosting off on his lower lip, so he licked it clean. “Yum again. That’s like crack.”
“Let me try?” Stetson brushed the frosting over Curtis’s mouth again; then Stetson leaned in to lick his lips clean.
Curtis hummed, then slid one hand behind Stetson’s head to hold him right there. Carrot cake might not be an aphrodisiac, but this needing man made him incredibly happy. Stetson slid the cake away and climbed into his lap.
“Hello, cowboy.”
“Hey, there. Look at you, ready to ride.” He sure hoped Stetson wanted more than eight seconds.
“Mmm. I can ride for days, you know. Days.”
“I know. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” Curtis grabbed Stetson’s hips with both hands, rolling and rocking them together.
“Yeah?” Stetson looked suddenly vulnerable. “I’m giving you what all you need?”
“You’re everything I could ever want, Roper.” He raised one hand to stroke that flat belly. “You need so good.” He nudged Stetson’s cock, loving the silken skin he found. “You make me want to do things, every time I see you.”
“I like things.” Stetson pressed their lips together, hard enough that their teeth clicked. “Our things.”
“Uh-huh. Good things.” Curtis was kind of losing the ability to talk, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Stetson made him stupid with need, made him want to beg for it. Hell, Curtis loved to hear Stetson beg for it.
He slid his hand down to touch the tip of Stetson’s cock, rubbed at it with his fingers. Stetson arched, curling over him, the lean body beginning to rock.
“You like that, Roper.”
“Uh-huh. Need. Need it.”
“I could watch you all day.” Curtis knew he could. He could wait for his pleasure, just give Stetson everything. “You ride like a natural.”
“Yeah. Yeah, cowboy. I can.” Stetson leaned over and opened the side table, showing a bottle of lube and a cloth.
“Look at you! Planning naughtiness.” Curtis was so proud.
“I know. I thought we’d celebrate in style once you won, but this is good too. Ah-ah.” Stetson planted a hand on his chest. “You let me do the doing and take it easy. You need to save your strength for tomorrow.”
“You just gonna ride, then, Roper? Take me deep?”
“Just? Cowboy, I’m going to blow your mind.”
“Oh, hell, yes.” He grinned up at Stetson, ready to take and take.
That was his Roper—tentative until he started revving up to do his job.
Stetson opened the lube, squirted it out on his hand. He rubbed it between his fingers, probably to warm it up, and Curtis watched every motion. His mouth was dry, and when Stetson reached behind him to touch his tiny little hole, the temptation to turn Stetson so Curtis could see was huge.
He didn’t, because he didn’t want to upset the balance Stetson had achieved, but damn. The sound of Stetson panting gave him amazing ideas.
“You’re going to make me shoot, baby. Just from this.”
Stetson snorted at him, shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare, cowboy. I’ve promised myself a ride.”
“I can hold on. I’ll just think about Tres Equis,” Curtis teased.
Oh, look at that glare! “I swear to God, I will pull more than eight seconds from you.”
“You will. I know it. Get me ready too, baby.” He needed Stetson’s hands, getting him wet.
“There’s nothing I like more than touching you.” Suddenly Stetson was jacking him, touching him, slicking him right up.
He huffed out a breath, his lungs kinda refusing to work. “I love you. Your hands. Everything.”
“Uh-huh. Ditto. Need you to fuck me.”
“Right here, baby. You ready?” He grasped those lean hips again, ready to help lift Stetson into place.
His eyes crossed as Stetson took him, wrapped him in slick heat. He wanted to buck up, slam in deep, but this was Stetson’s deal. Stetson’s game.
So he tried to breathe, shaking with the need to move. “Come on, baby. Gimme.”
“Patience.” Stetson began to move, rocking up and dropping back.
“Not a virtue I’m good at.” He kept his grip on Stetson as loose as he could, gritting his teeth as pleasure shot up his spine.
“Love you.” Stetson rocked up, then sank down on him, taking him to the root.
“God. Yes. Oh yeah. More.” He could hear Stetson say that every damn day.
“More.” Stetson pressed their lips together, curling down so they were joined, mouths and bodies.
Curtis took that kiss deep, pushing his tongue into Stetson’s mouth. His whole world narrowed down to Stetson’s skin, his musky scent, the tight grip of his ass.
He humped up, added his strength to Stetson’s, and suddenly they were cooking with oil, both of them on fire.
The rhythm doubled up, working hard, panting and sweating.
“Never-never going to ride again without you watching me.” He meant it too. Never again without those black eyes staring him down from the stands.
“Good.” Stetson braced both hands on his chest. “I’ll be right there tomorrow. Watching and cheering you on.”
“Swear it?”
“I do. You have my word. God, cowboy, touch me. Please.”
“I’m on it.” His grin probably looked more like a grimace, but Curtis was just holding on by a thread. He grasped Stetson’s velvet-skinned cock and jacked it. Hard. He rolled the tip, loving the wild cry Stetson offered him.
Then he pushed back down the shaft, lifting his other hand to give more friction, more sensation.
“Fuck. Fuck, cowboy. Now.”
“Come on. Come for me. I want to see it.” He wanted to feel it around him, Stetson tight as a fist.
Stetson stared at him, eyes wide and black as holes burned in a sheet. Then heat poured over his hands, wet and thick and right.
“Oh, Jesus.” Curtis arched up, his balls drawing tight, a deep fire rising up in his belly. He shot hard, deep inside his lover, giving Stetson all he had.
Stetson leaned down onto him, chest working like a bellows. “Damn.”
“Uh-huh.” Curtis took a sloppy kiss. “Meant it. No more rides without you there.”
“Okay. Seriously. I’m with you.”
“And I’m with you. If you can’t come along, I don’t go.” He’d already talked to his team about how he was going to be doing more appearances than events this year. More autographs, fewer rides.
He had a ranch to improve, hor
ses to buy, a lover to hold.
For the first time in his life, the rodeo game was taking a back seat to other things. Curtis was surprised at how free that made him feel.
He thought, maybe, he had his mind in the middle.
Chapter Thirty-Two
STETSON FIGURED he’d never seen anything as hilarious as a bunch of cowboys, who were incredibly athletic and damn manly, trying to play horseshoes.
Lord, that was like a weird kinda ballet—if ballet included tossing heavy things, missing, twirling, and cussing. He shoulda played. He was way better at this than Curtis. Now, the glad-handing and autograph signing that went with after? That was Curtis all over.
That part didn’t look fun at all. Of course, that wasn’t something he was ever going to have to worry about. He wasn’t looking for fame.
They wound through Dallas, the traffic something else, and this with it being Saturday. The rain was pouring down, the cold deep in his bones.
Stetson was excited to get to the arena. He got to watch Curtis on TV and at Santa Fe, but this was a big show.
This time they were together. This time Stetson was on Curtis’s guest list.
A fleet of pickups and cabs all arrived at the same time, Curtis parking around in the participant parking. “You ready for the behind-the-chutes tour, baby?”
“I am. You need to run upstairs and change?”
“Not yet. Might as well stay in the comfy boots for a while longer.”
“You know it.” Stetson was beginning to buzz, feeling the nerves that Curtis obviously wasn’t. Curtis looked utterly at home, relaxed and smiling. He couldn’t quite believe that Curtis was going to be happy at the ranch full-time, but no one said he had to be.
He figured Curtis could keep his card current, do events when he got an itch. When he could, Stetson would go with him, see the world some.
For now he would soak up what he had. Enjoy the fuck out of this and watch Curtis ride.
CURTIS STOOD behind the rail, bouncing up and down to warm up his muscles. He had his vest on, his gloves. His bull was up next to be loaded, so all he had to do was wait.
He’d drawn Big Mickey in the first round and ridden the little fucker for an eighty-five. Now he was staring at the broad back of Tres Equis.
“He tosses his head back,” Miles said. “Don’t you pull a Tuff, now, and bust your face. He spins to the left.”
Curtis nodded. He remembered watching footage of Tuff Hedeman after Bodacious had smashed every bone in his face. Jesus. Unlike that big yellow bull, Tres was a Plummer. Half Brahma, half longhorn.
“I got this.”
Miles had been bucked off in the first, big round. Hell, there were only six of them bucking in round two. Those odds were good for him. If he was real lucky, he’d be the only ride this round, but three of the guys were from the pro bull riding tour, not the NFR, and God knew they knew these bulls. KC Kramer was a freaking prodigy.
“Stop it. You got this. I know you do. You are the number one cowboy in the world,” Miles jabbered at him, the words soft and steady.
He glanced up at the family section of the stands. Stetson sat on the front row, arms propped up on the rail. Watching him. Okay. He had this. When Tres was in chute position, Curtis climbed the rail, letting the brute know he was coming with soft knee touches.
Miles had his vest, and Terry was pulling rope. The thick bastard was a leaner, trying its best to push his leg through the gate. The ground crew had to get the four-by-four, shoving at the two-thousand-pound maniac.
“Come on, you.” He slapped Tres’s hump. “Stand up.”
He was fixin’ to have to nod as soon as Tres—
The pressure released, and he nodded, the gate swinging open.
The huge beast whirled out, dipping his head so deep that he damn near scooped up dirt in his nasty mouth. Curtis arched back as far as he could, keeping his free hand clear, so when Tres slammed back, their heads didn’t meet.
The motion did rock his hips farther back from his rope than he liked, so he had to scoot forward like a cat skidding on ice, feet almost coming up over the big hump. He managed to recover, and then Tres began to spin.
He held on, wishing he knew what the count was. He’d lost it up front.
G forces pulled at him, but then Tres turned back into his hand, and damned if he didn’t get a foot up to spur.
The crowd went wild, and the buzzer sounded, and all he had to do was get off.
Right. He turned his head to look for a get off, but the bullfighters were scrambling, trying to keep up as Tres broke his spin and began to buck to the middle of the arena.
“Goddamn it!”
His hand was twisted in the bull rope, and he yanked at it, pulling hard, never even seeing that horn as it slammed into his temple.
Chapter Thirty-Three
STETSON SAW that horn connect, and he took off without another word, heading for the stairs. He wasn’t a goddamn friend. He was family.
One of the guys down there pulled the gate open for him. “Sports medicine is all the way back and to the left. Better for you to be back there.”
“All the way back and to the left. Got it.”
He ran, sprinting on the echoing tile.
Another man met him by the door. “You here for Traynor? I need you to promise to sit back here and stay out of the way until we determine how injured he is.”
“I’m good at that.” In fact, he might be a champion.
The guy smiled. “I’m Pete. I’ve been doctoring him for years.”
Maybe ten seconds later, a group of men bustled into the room, Curtis at the center, feet moving in a little parody of walking.
Miles was right behind them, carrying Curtis’s rope and hat.
“Miles,” he called, then waved.
“Hey. It ain’t as bad as it looked from up there. Clocked him, rang his bell, but it was a glancing blow.” Miles handed him the hat but kept the rope.
“Good deal. It was a beautiful ride, up to the end.” The part where Curtis got his bell rung.
“Old Tres Equis got mad. I’m gonna take his rope up front. If he rides in the next round, he’ll need it on the bull.”
“Do you think he’ll ride?” Curtis wasn’t even conscious, was he?
“We’ll see. They’ll stall if he hasn’t made a decision by the time everyone rides. He’s the champ.”
“Okay. Cool.”
Miles didn’t seem to think Curtis was going to have any problem, but now his lover was on the stretcher. Out.
Stetson sat as still as he could while Pete and another, older man examined Curtis. He held that hat in his hands, not looking at the crushed spot.
Dear God, please. That was all he prayed, because it was all he had, and Curtis was what he held most dear. Dear God, please.
“Pete, stop fussing over me. Where the hell is Stetson? He’ll need to know I’m okay.”
Oh. He sagged. That voice was weaker than he liked, but it was Curtis.
“Right here, cowboy. I’m right here.” Thank you.
“Oh, hey.” When he peered past Pete, Curtis’s blue eyes were open, focusing on him. “Hey, you. I’m okay.”
“Good. I like okay. A lot. You—” Scared me. “—rode well.”
“Thanks.”
“Traynor, shut up and let Doc look.”
Curtis grinned, but it turned into a grimace. His face was already swelling.
Stetson backed off again. He could wait now, no question. Curtis knew him; that was all he needed.
The doctor hmmed and grunted and finally sighed. “If I had a mobile X-ray unit, I’d look at your orbital bone, but otherwise, you seem intact. I don’t see any signs of a concussion, but my advice is to sit out the next round.”
“No way.”
Stetson stepped forward. “Curtis?”
“Oi, Traynor.” Frank the bullfighter slid around the doorframe like a figure skater. “You. KC. KC pulled Sit-n-Spin. You pulled Tres again. You’re in the mone
y, no matter what.”
“Shit. I gotta ride, then.”
“That’s a bad idea, Traynor.” The doctor scowled. “That bull smells blood now.”
“You don’t have to, Curtis. You don’t.” He didn’t want Curtis to get broken for him, for the ranch. They’d figure it out, big purse or not.
Curtis closed his eyes for a moment. “How long have I got, Frank?”
“We’re having a twenty-minute intermission. They’re regrading the dirt.”
“’Kay. Doc, can I just have a minute?”
“Sure. Pete will be right here if you need him.”
“Thanks.” Once the others had left them, Curtis gave him a tiny smile. “I can do it, baby. I’ve had worse.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t care about the money.” He went to sit close, daring to touch Curtis’s hand. “I don’t care about the ride. I care about you.”
“I know.” Curtis turned his hand and twined their fingers. “I know that, and I know it probably doesn’t make any sense with me sitting here with a big old bruise, but I need to ride.”
“Why?” It was a simple question but an important one. All sorts of what-ifs zipped through him. He’d just got his life back; he didn’t want to lose it now.
“It ain’t simple. If it wasn’t KC, I might let it go, but that kid is a dick. I know we can do a lot with second-place money, but I’m not a second-place guy. We have plans.”
“I got to admit, I’m scared for you. What if you get hit again and it’s bad?” What if you forget who I am?
“You want me to wear a helmet? I will.” He knew Curtis hated helmets, so that was a hell of an offer.
“What? And fuck up your balance? I know better than that. I could just scoop you up and run….” He was trying to keep it light, easy, but his heart was breaking. What if Curtis scrambled his brains? He’d seen how that happened. “Please, Curtis. Let’s just take what we can get. You’re worth eighty ranches to me. More. Please, let’s go.”
“I can’t.” Curtis just said it baldly. “If nothing else, I can’t let that motherfucking bull win.”