Finally they both put on a few pieces of the owner’s extensive costume stock and posed for pictures at the Blacksmith Shop which actually held a studio just for that purpose. Dan donned a pair of garish chaps, a big black hat, and a gunfighter holster rig with two shiny .45s. Trek ambled up to his side and gave him a poke in the ribs while the photographer got ready to take the shot.
“Damn, you look super delish in that outfit. I’d prefer you in only the chaps and not one stitch more, though. And you don’t need to carry a big gun—at least not another one.”
Trek’s stage whisper made Dan blush. Still, he could not help feeling flattered and also excited. Maybe he could borrow a pair of real chaps from one of his fellow officers who maintained a little ranch a few miles out of town and talked a lot about his horses and rodeo past. If he could swing it, he’d surprise Trek some evening before the other man left.
His portrait was going to come out almost X-rated. His sudden hard-on strained against the fly of his jeans, and he could not wipe the silly grin off his face. Who would have thought of a prosaic item like chaps as erotic? He would now until his dying day!
When Trek’s turn came, he put on a black frock coat, a narrower brimmed hat, and posed shuffling a deck of cards. Dan decided that looked pretty damn sexy too.
They had sarsaparillas with buffalo burgers at the snack shop and ate out on the porch so Commando could stay with them. Trek even ordered a plain hamburger patty for the dog, which Commando clearly enjoyed. He gobbled it in about two bites and looked around for more.
About four thirty, Trek declared he had seen enough. They loaded up and headed back to Alamo Junction. “That was total fun,” Trek said, as he took the ramp back onto the freeway. “I can’t wait to write this one up. My editor is going to love it. I know I got some great photos to illustrate it. Then I’ll put the videos up on the website right away. You’re proving to be invaluable, Dan. Who would have guessed a grungy little desert town would hold so many fabulous things?”
When they got back to Dan’s house, Dan halfway hoped that Trek would want to fool around again, but instead the other man glanced at his watch and then looked at him with a sober expression.
“You’re going to be heading out to fight crime in about five hours. As much as I’d like to remember those chaps and share some fun, I don’t want you on the job tired and less than alert. Get your ass off to bed. I’m going to work on my articles.”
With that he turned to the room he’d claimed as his and shut the door firmly behind him. He didn’t even let Commando in. The dog followed Dan as he went to his room, stripped off his boots, jeans, and shirt and flopped down on the bed. It still carried their scent and a whiff of the hot times they had shared there. Dan sighed. He might even sleep better if Trek was here too, but he also knew temptation probably would get the best of them.
Commando sniffed around the edges of the bed before he flumped down with an aggrieved grunt on the side where Trek had slept. “Me too, old bud, but the boss has spoken. Let’s take us a nap.”
* * * *
Two days later, Dan got the chaps. Although Rory Perkins looked at him with curiosity, he didn’t ask Dan why he needed them. If he had, Dan was not sure what kind of explanation he could make since for sure the truth wouldn’t do. When he left the station to head home, he bundled them into a black plastic bag to smuggle into the house.
When Dan walked in at seven thirty, he found Trek in the kitchen. The scent of fresh brewed coffee hung in the air and other yummy smells issued from a bubbling frying pan in which Trek stirred a mixture that gave off bacon odor, a hint of peppers, and probably eggs. Dan wrinkled his nose in appreciation, sniffing much as Commando also was doing. “I’ll be right back.”
Dan had tucked the bag under his arm, hoping it would blend with his black web belt and other gear. Trek hardly turned around, though, so he figured the surprise was safe. He hurried into his room, kicked the bag under the foot of the bed and hung his working belt and his gear on the customary hook inside the door.
Back in the kitchen, he accepted the steaming mug Trek handed him and sat down while his guest dished up toast browned just the way he liked it and a fluffy omelet. The guy was as good in the kitchen as he was in bed, or anywhere else, really. Dan had to bite back an urge to declare, “Man, I think I’m in love with you.”
In a few short days, as soon as Commando’s quarantine ended, he knew Trek would be on his way. The day before, the special trailer Trek arranged for the Fury had arrived. The abused car was loaded and sent off to Tennessee for its repairs. Probably that would be where Trek would go first too. Dan already dreaded this inevitable ending.
Of course they were a total mismatch, Trek with his élan, sophistication, and insouciant manner and Dan, still just a plain old country boy who grew painfully shy when he was not able to hide behind his badge, and the reflective shades he wore unless it was pitch-dark. Dealing with people as anyone but Officer Winstead took all the courage he could dredge up. Even his gayness didn’t help. If anything, he still wore it awkwardly and had to work not to be defensive about it. That damn cousin and his mean razzing…
On the other hand, Dan could not visualize Trek ever being ill at ease or less than totally assured. No, they were about as opposite as black and white, rich and poor. Dan could never fit comfortably into Trek’s world, and after the new wore off, Trek would be bored stiff in Dan’s.
Even this depressing awareness didn’t kill Dan’s appetite, though. He ate every bite of the delicious omelet and washed it down with two cups of coffee. Meanwhile, Trek toyed with his food, his faraway stare missing Dan by at least forty-five degrees. What was the other man thinking? Could he be anxious to get back on the road?
With a sudden urge to shatter the silence which was growing awkward, Dan blurted the first thing he thought of, a question. “Is your name really Trek? I mean for a travel writer, it’s just too perfect.”
Trek’s bright blue gaze snapped to Dan. He smiled. “A lot of people wonder. It’s actually LeTreque, which my mother insists is an old family name. It sounds French to me, but I know Grandpa was mostly German and Irish and I’m not sure about Grandma’s ancestry. Hell, maybe it was from my dad’s side. I never knew too much about him except he was in the military. He wasn’t much of a daddy type.”
He shrugged in a dismissive gesture. “Who knows? I shortened it to Trek long before the idea of being a travel writer ever popped into my head. Just serendipity, I suppose. Maybe the name created the future.”
After they finished breakfast, Dan excused himself and went to his room. He might be making a mistake, but right now he planned to knock Mr. Trek DuHamel right out of his very elegant Sketchers.
Dan shucked the uniform, right down to and past his skivvies. Then he pulled the bag out from under the bed and took out the chaps. The stiff leather felt odd against his skin as he stepped into them, but the abrasion was also exciting. He was half hard before he had the belt fastened and settled the chaps low on his hips. He paused just long enough to slip a couple of items from the nightstand into the pocket on the chaps’ left leg.
Barefooted, he eased the door open and tiptoed out into the hall. He paused, listened. Trek was still in the kitchen, so he padded quietly toward those noises. He found Trek whistling tunelessly as he stuck the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. The bent-over rear view looked so fine, Dan had to clear his throat before he could speak. At the sound, Trek whirled to glance his way. And stopped, totally frozen, dead still.
“Oh my God and a million little kittens!”
He appeared much closer to totally flummoxed than Dan could have imagined. Dan had no idea how he looked; he had carefully not even glanced at his mirrored image on the closet door before he left his room.
“You remembered, you planned…Turn around real slow and let me take you all in.”
Dan obeyed, feeling both stupid and incredibly hot. He’d never done anything as crazy as this before and might never again, but this was one for the books. He’d try to etch it into his memory with indelible ink. All his blood having gone south, he felt dizzy and unbalanced, but he turned.
“Again,” Trek ordered, his voice ragged and breathless. “Wait, I’ve got to get a camera.”
“No way,” Dan almost screamed. “You can’t. Somebody else might see it, and I’d just die. Stuff gets leaked and accidentally released and…Please, no!”
“It’s just for me. I’ll download them into a hidden directory on my computer, but when I’m far away, I want to remember just how amazing you look!”
“Them? You’re taking more than one?”
“I’m making a fucking video. Shut up and relax!”
After half a minute or so, Trek set the camera aside. “It’s not quite my first rodeo, but, cowboy, I want you to give me the ride of a lifetime.”
Trek dropped his slacks and shorts and turned to lean over the breakfast bar counter. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You better have a rubber and some K-Y because I’m in no mood to wait.”
“Got it covered.” Dan pushed the short reply through a dry throat. He paced forward until he almost met Trek’s bare ass. There he paused, lifted his right leg, and slipped it between Trek’s spread limbs. He made sure the leather rubbed against the other man’s thighs and brushed under his balls.
Trek groaned. “Oh gawd, that feels incredible. I want more, though. Fuck me, man. Fuck me like you mean it.”
“I’ll mean it, no question about that.” Already harder than a branding iron, Dan grabbed the condom and tore it open while he continued to rub against Trek. He rolled it on and then waited just long enough to squirt a bit of lube on his sheathed prick and down Trek’s crack before he dove in.
Trek did a good job of bucking and twisting, enough to make sensations wilder than ever for them both. Dan hung on and gave it the ride of his life, blind and dizzy in the last few seconds before he exploded into a dynamite earthquake of a climax. Trek, braced against the counter and clutched the edge until his fingers went white, joining in Dan’s howl of release. Overcome and exhausted, Dan slumped forward over Trek’s body. He could feel their pounding hearts, almost in unison, shake them both.
Finally he drew back and straightened. “I must be crushing you,” he said. “Sorry.”
“No hurry,” Trek murmured. “It felt good. I could lie there under you and that leather forever.”
“I’m not sure what to do for an encore,” Dan said, “but the long night and lack of sleep is getting to me. Is it too early to suggest a nap?”
“Unless you insist on being a solitary napper, it’s a perfect time. For some reason I didn’t sleep real well either.”
* * * *
From then on, the days flew past like a freight train roaring through town at track speed. The would-be car thief was arraigned; Trek gave the court a notarized statement; they visited a few more local attractions; and then Commando’s quarantine was over.
Dan tried to maintain a light, breezy attitude as if nothing mattered beyond the present day. He wasn’t sure if he convinced Trek, but it wasn’t working for him. How could he go back to the way everything was before? Except he had no choice.
They ate a fast breakfast the morning Trek decided to leave, mostly quiet but for a little idle, meaningless chitchat. Afterwards, Trek finished gathering up his things and loaded the rental which Trek had arranged to have returned later. Commando hopped right in, ready to go wherever it went. He seemed to have taken over the rented GMC Denali and made it his own.
Dan stood aside to watch, mute and miserable. He was almost ready to beg, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t. What good would one more day do, anyway? Trek was going to go, he had to go. He was a traveler, not a stay-home small town sort of guy.
Trek paused and turned toward Dan. “It’s been amazing. Alamo Junction is now on my map with a big red star, and I’ll bet the traveling public will be burning up the interstate to visit and take in all the attractions. I’ll probably be back this way now and then too.” He paused as if not sure what else to say. “You stay safe now, and don’t try to stop any of the bad guys’ bullets. We need all the good cops we can keep.”
Dan cleared his throat and finally forced out the necessary words. “You be safe too, and keep the keys in your hand whenever you get out of the car. Take care of that dog too. He’s quite a guy.”
“Oh yeah, right…on the keys. But seeing how this worked out, who knows what I might run into next time I get dog-jacked? Still, I’ll probably keep Commando even closer from now on.”
He reached to give Dan a fast awkward hug. Dan hugged back but did not try to hold on when Trek turned away and opened the driver’s-side door.
“Hasta luego,” Dan said. There was no way he’d utter anything like good-bye, not even adios. The Latino equivalent of “see you later” left at least a possibility open.
Trek only smiled, shoved on a pair of very dark sunglasses, and stepped up behind the wheel. He gave a final jaunty wave once he’d backed into the street and turned to head toward the freeway. Dan quit watching before the vehicle rounded a corner and disappeared from his sight.
He spoke aloud, trying to make himself feel real. “I think I’d better go down to the shelter and find me a dog. I never did like talking to myself.” He knew how empty the house was going to feel, and he didn’t want to face that quite yet. He reached back in for his keys and then got into his truck.