“HEY, MIZ Betty. Looks like they got a big old feast set up in the dining room.” Curtis had come on inside while Stetson parked the truck. They were still in his rental, but Curtis tried not to drive in the snow, and God knew, it was coming down out there.
Betty had started slipping bad after that morning where she’d been so aware and present. She’d stopped talking much and had looked at her beloved iced tea like it was foreign to her. It was as if she’d had that moment of amazing clarity because she was about to lose what little she had left. He hoped today God would give them a little miracle, just a day where she could enjoy herself.
Betty stared at him, blinking at him all slow, like a sun-dazed lizard.
Damn. Curtis pulled up a chair. “Stetson is on his way. Are you looking forward to pumpkin pie?”
“Are you a nurse?” she asked. “My nurse is a girl.”
“No, ma’am. My name is Curtis, and I’m a friend of your son’s.” He kept his tone cheerful. Showing he was upset would push her into panic.
“Stetson. My son’s name is Stetson. He’s working horses today.” She did smile then, as if the thought of Stetson was a ray of light.
“Is he? Maybe he’ll come see you. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Did my momma come and bring her pie? She always makes the pie, and I make the turkey and tamales.”
Stetson walked in. “Hey, Momma. Having a good day today?”
“Where’s your Grandma Flora, Stetson?” Betty was ramping up. Curtis knew his nearness might be setting her off, so he eased out of the chair and faded to the back of the room.
“Are you craving her pie, Momma?” Stetson came to her, smiled, but it wasn’t happy. It was so sad.
“She always makes the pie, baby.” Miz Betty smiled at Stetson, holding out a hand.
“She does.”
Her frown deepened. “Parker, I meant to tell you that I couldn’t make fudge this year.”
“Daddy won’t care, Momma.”
“I just didn’t have time.” Betty patted Stetson’s hand. “I got my hair done, though.”
“It looks great. Did you want to get in the chair and go see the dining area?”
“No. No, I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I want to watch the parade.”
“I think the parade is over, Momma.”
“I want to watch the motherfucking parade!” Her scream was loud and sudden and had him jerking out of his chair.
“Curtis, can you grab a nurse, please?”
“Yeah.” He pelted down the hall, looking for anyone who might be able to help. “Mrs. Major needs a nurse,” he told Anna at the duty desk.
He could hear her absolutely losing her shit, then the sound of flesh on flesh.
The nurses ran in, and Stetson stepped out of the room, a handprint on his face like it was painted there.
Fuck. Curtis walked over and put his hand on Stetson’s hip. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m going to smoke.”
Betty was screaming her dead husband’s name. God, this sucked so hard.
“No. Come sit in the truck with me a minute.” No smoking, damn it. That was bad for a body.
“Just for a minute.” Stetson was fixin’ to lose his shit.
Curtis tugged him outside and took him to the truck. Lord, the snow muffled the whole world, making it seem like they were the only two people around.
He could feel Stetson trembling beneath his hand.
Curtis steered Stetson into the back seat of the king cab, where they could sit together, then grabbed him for a hug.
“I don’t know how I can do this.” The whisper was soft, scared as hell.
“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I got you.” He did. He’d come back after the Finals. He would stay as long as he could because Stetson needed him. Him.
“Because I’m such a prize. I couldn’t even stay awake to screw around last night.”
“Hey.” Curtis stroked Stetson’s cheek. “You need rest more than anything. I understand that, okay? Just breathe.”
When had Stetson gotten old? The lines carved into that dear face owed way more to worry than to smiling. This wasn’t even a middle-aged man. Stetson was still young, dammit.
He had this crazy urge to tie Stetson down and get in the driver’s seat and go. Anywhere. Glenwood Springs. Jackson Hole.
Hell, Durango. Even Denver. He didn’t care; he just wanted to escape. That wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t be right, especially for Betty. Didn’t stop the urge.
“Hell of a Thanksgiving, huh?”
“Shit happens.” He said it against Stetson’s neck.
“Yeah. Yeah, that it does.”
“I’m just sorry she’s having a tough day. What do we do now?”
“Wait to see if they have to sedate her. If they did, we’ll just go and have supper together.”
“Okay, sure. You want me to go check?”
“No. No, I’ll just text Mari. She’ll know. She’s a really good lady.”
“Cool.” When Stetson pulled out his phone and took a few steps away, so did Curtis, hunting for someplace not the Golden Corral to have Thanksgiving dinner.
He picked the restaurant at the La Fonda first, calling one of the biggie wows at the restaurant, praying Roberto was still working there. They’d ridden together for a season and a half, until the skinny son of a bitch broke his pelvis.
“La Plazuela, how may I help you?”
“Hey, there. Can I speak to Roberto please?”
“Just a moment, sir.” He got put on hold, which he thought was a good sign. Of course, it wasn’t like Roberto was a rare name out here.
“Hello?”
Score. Curtis knew that voice. “Hey, vato. How’s it hanging?”
“Who is this? I know that voice….”
“Curtis Traynor, man. How’s domestic life treating your happy ass?”
“Well, I’ll be goddamned. How you doing, ese? All good?”
“Well, I’ve been riding great, for sure.”
“You in town? I’ll buy you a beer.”
“I’m staying with friends up near Taos, but I can buy you a beer this weekend if you can do me a solid.” He held his breath, hoping Roberto didn’t tell him to go fly a kite. They’d been buds back on tour.
“If I can, sure. What you need?”
“Thanksgiving dinner? I know you might not be able to get us in at the restaurant, but we’d eat in the bar or something. My—” Curtis glanced at Stetson, who was still on the phone. “My guy’s momma is real sick, and I want to do something special for him.”
“I have a two top for you at six. No problem. Anything for you, Curtis.”
That gave them a few hours to sit at the bar and…. Oh, maybe they should just get a room. He loved the La Fonda.
“You’re a rock star. I owe you huge.” He’d see if Stetson could get his friends to feed back at the ranch, just one more time.
“I’ll see you at six. You thinking about staying here? I can forward you to Janelle.”
“That would rock, man. I appreciate you.” He really did. “We’ll get together over that beer.”
“Sounds good. Hold up.”
He held on while Roberto transferred him, and by the time he hung up, he had a room and a dinner and a champagne romance package.
It felt a little over-the-top, a little weird, but… dammit, he wanted to give Stetson something. Something really good for this holiday. He deserved it so much.
“She’s down for the count. She lost it, I guess. You think I should go sit with her? You think it’s bad if I don’t?”
“No. I think if she’s sleeping and stuff, you should let her rest. We need to get the desk ladies anything?”
Stetson shook his head. “They’ve got all the pumpkin pie they can eat.”
“Well, come on, then.” He crawled out of the truck and walked around to the driver’s door. Stetson was the only one he’d drive in the snow for, as a rule.
“Where are we going?”
“La Fonda. I have a buddy who’s saving us a place at La Plazuela, and I got us a room. Do you think someone can hop over and do the feeding?”
“I paid Nestor to do it. I wasn’t sure how things were going to work out. If she wanted dinner, we would have stayed late.”
“Woo.” And hoo, even. That was the best news ever. “Good deal. You got a good shirt on. We’ll have a few drinks, have a meal. Have a nice long shower.”
“That sounds like heaven.” Stetson stepped into the passenger side, and the man looked at him like he was a real hero.
“It will be. I swear, babe.” He was going to give Stetson the best Thanksgiving he could. Things would only get worse with Betty now, and they both knew it.
“Okay. I believe you.” Stetson reached over, took his hand.
“Of course you do. I got your back. Always.” Curtis got them moving, heading in toward the Plaza.
“Why did we break up? Do you remember?” Stetson said it with a tiny edge of sarcasm, but the question was serious too.
“I was on the road all the time. You stayed home. Hard to be a we when you’re never together.” Was that oversimplifying? Probably. “Simple fact is I was young and stupid.”
“You weren’t the only one. Momma hates me a little bit for not going with you.”
“I don’t think so, babe.” Betty hated the whole world when she was aware of it, he’d bet. “I think she hates that she’s leaving you so soon and wishes we’d settled together so you had someone full-time.” It was easy to have perspective from the distance he had.
“Yeah, well, what’s done is done, right?”
“It is.” And he didn’t want to talk on it too much since very little had changed, really. Lord, the area around the Plaza was already starting to light up with Christmas decorations. Not luminarias. That would come later, but it was pretty.
Stetson turned his hat in his hands, spinning it slowly.
“No more thinking, babe. Not today. We’ll get to that, but not now.”
“No? We’re just going to eat turkey and pie?”
“Yep. Bob in the hot tub.”
“Like I was Tracy Lawrence’s frozen turkeys.”
“Oh God, I love that story.”
Stetson’s grin made the world seem almost sunny. That was a damned fine thing. Curtis would take it.
They pulled up to the La Fonda and parked in the garage, leaving the snow behind them. The lobby to the historic hotel was buzzing, people chatting and wandering, music playing.
“You want to get a stool at the bar, Roper?”
“We can do that or I can grab one of them sofas.”
“Oh, I like that. I’ll get us a beer if I can. If not I’ll grab a Coke.”
“Sounds good. I could use a beer.”
“I bet.” Curtis wandered up to the bar, which was hopping, but not so busy he couldn’t get service. “If I grab a beer, can we have them on the couches over there?” he asked.
“Sure, honey.” The bartender grinned at him, her eyes lit up. “Give me five, huh?”
“I’m on it.” He watched Stetson settle on a big couch, pulling into himself, still and silent. Seeing that made Curtis’s heart hurt. He wanted to see the goofy, sexual guy he’d known.
Maybe he could coax that man out to play for a day or so. That would be something, right? Was that selfish? Was it better to just let Stetson fade and get all dry?
No, even if this was the most self-serving thing Curtis ever did, he wanted to make Stetson happy for a bit. Just for a few hours.
A day or two. Hell, he wanted to share orgasms, like ten or twenty. Food. Sex. All the good things in life.
They’d already gotten to ride horses.
“Here you go, hon.” The bartender handed over two longnecks. Not Coors, thank God. Bud. He’d take it. “Fourteen.”
He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”
She’d remember him and give him what he wanted while they were at the hotel.
“Thanks!”
He grabbed both beers and headed over to sit with Stetson. “Here, babe.”
“Thank you, sir.” They clinked bottles, both of them sipping, just sort of watching the people around them.
Everyone had their own thing going, from the high mountain cowboy types waiting for the band to set up in the bar to the tourists bundled up against the outside air, just passing through and taking pictures of the famous Inn at the End of the Trail.
“I love how the whole Santa Fe cliché lives here.” Stetson chuckled, waving his beer at a couple wearing Pendleton blanket coats and high boots.
“I know. The jewelry alone would fund my tour for a year.”
“At least. Maybe two. I’m not sure that couple over there dripping in Old Pawn wouldn’t do it, all by themselves.”
“We could mug them.” Curtis winked when Stetson almost snorted beer.
“Yeah, I can just see it.” Stetson rolled his eyes like thrown dice and started drawling. “Pardon me, ma’am. Stick ’em up, y’all.”
“Yep. That would be me. The gentleman robber.”
“The classy Texan. I like it.” Stetson grinned at him, the smile honest, happy. “I can see you as a bandit on the Santa Fe Trail, following the drovers and sneaking in.”
“Yeah? You like the idea of me in all black?” Curtis loved to listen to Stetson spin yarns.
“An oilcloth coat and a hat pulled all down, your six-shooter on your hip.”
“Lord, if I could hit the side of a barn with a baseball bat, that might be a good image.” Curtis was a terrible shot. His daddy had despaired, and told him when he came out that it just figured.
There was that laugh again, and Curtis felt his heart clench. Yeah. Fuck yeah. He wanted that—not even Stetson’s hard little body, which okay, he could slurp up with a spoon—but the happy laugh.
Curtis almost suggested seeing if they could check in right now, but he knew Stetson needed to ease into the evening, needed to unwind. His self-serving intentions only went so far. He guessed he might just love the son of a bitch still.
Curtis sat there for a moment, not surprised at all, just a little… off-kilter. He’d always known he still loved Stetson. Now Curtis knew he was still in love with him.
Stetson’s laughter faded into soft chuckles, then disappeared. “You cool, cowboy?”
“I’m great, babe.” Curtis shrugged off his weirdo moment. “You know I like your stories.”
“I remember that. I can’t help it. I love my Westerns.”
“We should have a John Wayne marathon.” Stetson had a thing for the really old movies. Red River and Stagecoach, that sort of thing.
“I’d like that. You know how I feel about the old stuff. Although the remake of 3:10 to Yuma didn’t suck.”
“How could Russell Crowe and Christian Bale suck?” Rowr. Sad ending, lots of pretty. He could handle that.
“You have a point. Although I’m really more of a Kurt Russell guy.”
“Yeah, you always did like that Tombstone movie, huh?” Curtis had adored Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday.
“Lord yes. I wish it was still like that, sometimes. No bill collectors, no taxes. Just horses and fast-draw pistols and land.” There was a hunger in Stetson’s face that stunned him, made him lean back some.
Maybe he could understand the need for a simpler life, but Stetson was looking for an escape.
“I hear you,” Curtis said easily, not wanting to get into anything deep.
Stetson chuckled. “Now you? You got the cameras and the lights, the fame, the selfies. I bet you got yourself a publicist.”
“I have the sponsors. They all have publicists that work for them. I keep it simple.” Some of the guys he knew who’d broken out into bull riding had coaches and publicists and shit. Whole teams of people to kiss their asses. That wasn’t Western one bit.
“Good.” The single word was all Stetson seemed to have to say on the subject too. Just good.
He clinked his beer bottle against Stetson’s, winking when his man glanced at him. God, his man. He was gonna get his heart broke again.
Stetson smiled, the look slow and wicked, promising things that needed to happen for both their sakes.
He chucked his worry right out the mental window.
“So, the special is turkey, I think. All the trimmings, including green chile biscuits.” Curtis was tossing the diet today too. It was Thanksgiving. Calories didn’t count on holidays.
“Oh, man. That sounds like heaven on a plate.”
“I thought so. There are two kinds of pie.” They shared a knowing glance. They would have one at supper and get the other to feed each other in their room.
If he was lucky, they’d only get one fork.
They sat and chatted, and Curtis would swear he saw Stetson relax with every passing second. Two beers in and Stetson began to laugh freely, the sound real, not sad and desperate.
They were on their third when Roberto saw them and headed over. “We had a cancellation. You lucked out, hombre. You get in early.”
“You rock.” Not that he wouldn’t have taken food out in the bar over staying at the nursing home. Anything was better for Stetson today, but this was extremely awesome. “I owe you one, buddy.”
“You do.” One hand was held out to Stetson. “Roberto. Pleased.”
“Stetson. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, man. Happy Thanksgiving.” Roberto gave them a sunny grin, and the hostess took over, leading them to a table for two tucked away along the back wall, away from the glass windows. That made it quiet, a little darker, more intimate.
Stetson took his hat off, put it on one of the hooks on the wall, and he did the same.
“Hi, boys. Roberto says you need a Thanksgiving dinner, so I’m guessing you want the special?” The waiter looked like a doll baby.
“I’d like that, please. Curtis?”
“Me too. The whole shebang.” Thanksgiving was his cheat meal every year.
Stetson looked around the restaurant, gaze a little stunned, he thought, like Stetson was confused about something.
“What’s the matter, babe?” He took Stetson’s hand once they ordered iced tea.
“I just… look at this crowd. It’s Thanksgiving. I mean, I get that some folks don’t have people or are out of town, but….”
“But you’d be home if you could.” Curtis nodded. He got that. Stetson was a man of tradition, a parade and football and turkey-in-the-oven kind of guy.
“Yeah.” He got a twisted smile. “I know, I’m an old fuddy-duddy still. Prob’ly worse now. I appreciate you finding us a table, and it smells great. I was just surprised, is all.”
“Yeah. I’ve been on the road every year since my last at your house. And you can stop with the fuddy-duddy shit. I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t you.” So there.
Stetson stared at him, eyes wide as saucers. Definitely time to switch to tea so he could finish up the festivities later.
“You know, you’re a butthead,” Stetson finally replied.
“Am I? For what? Telling the truth?” He leaned his elbows on the table, wanting to hear Stetson’s answer to that one.
“For telling me you love me still. You know it ain’t fair.”
“I know.” Curtis paused, trying to push his thoughts into some kind of order. “It’s true, though. I do. I miss you. I’m not sure it would be any different if we tried again, but I do care.”
Stetson reached out and touched a button on his shirt. “Even if we did, right now, my life is broke and yours isn’t. I appreciate it, though, the… shit, I don’t know. Sentiment sounds kinda bitchy.”
“Lord.” He grinned. They were both dorks.
“Here you go, gents.” A second waiter brought them rolls and their tea. “Green chile cheese breads.”
This was New Mexico, after all.
They toasted with the biscuits, laughing as they did, the tension between them dissipating with a pop. Curtis moaned when the biscuity roll melted in his mouth. There was cornbread in the basket too, but he knew it would be too sweet for his Texas mind.
They didn’t chat much; they just ate and watched each other, the other diners. The silence was comfortable. Comforting. Not strained at all, and Curtis wanted to fist-pump and cheer.
This was what he wanted. To give Stetson what no one else did, a few minutes of peace. Well, and a hot meal and good company. He hoped he was providing those too.
He reckoned he was, on both accounts.
When dessert came, they ordered coffee, strong and hot and flavored with pinyon. Yum.
“Oh, that hits the spot. Nice and sweet. I can’t say when I’ve liked a cup more.”
“Mmm.” Curtis grinned into his cup. Stetson and his sweet tooth. The pie, now, that had homemade whipped cream. Uhn. He did love that stuff.
Stetson watched him lick the cream off the spoon, gaze sharp, hungry. “I think I’m gonna have to ask for more whipped cream.”
“Okay.” Curtis could get behind that.
To his utter shock, Mr. Staid and Steady waved the waiter down and asked for more. Oh, hello. Curtis chuckled. Yum.
The bowl of extra cream came, and Stetson pushed it over to him. “Take what you want, cowboy. I ordered it for you.”
“Spoiling me rotten.” Curtis grinned wide.
“Yeah-yeah. I just want to watch you enjoy it. It makes me ache.”
“In a good way.” He hoped so, for damn sure. This might just be working.
“In the best way.”
“That’s a fine thing, Roper.” He shifted in his seat, everything tight below the belt.
“It is. You wanting me as bad as I’m wanting you?” Stetson looked upon him like a starving man at a banquet.
“I am.” He wasn’t gonna lie. They might be in some sort of holiday bubble that would never repeat itself, but Curtis felt as if this was his chance… well, for something. It was too new to figure out what.
“Good.” Simple as that. Just good. “Eat your pie, cowboy.”
“Yessir.” He scooped more cream onto his pie before taking a big bite. Uhn. The pumpkin part was a little sour, spiced with comforting winter flavors. The crust was flaky. The cream made it so much better.
Stetson chuckled, the sound husky and sexual, but when Curtis glanced up, Stetson was deep in his coffee.
Tease. That was so much more like his old lover that Curtis ached inside.
Stetson took a bite of his own pie, humming a little deep in his chest. “This is good pecan pie. You want a bite?”
“Please.” He half expected Stetson to offer over his plate for Curtis to scoop up a bite. Instead, Stetson fed him a bit from his fork.
Okay. He was going to cream his jeans, right here and now. It had been so damned long. So long.
“You like it?”
“Rich. Smoky.” Curtis licked his lips. “Good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, like the smell of a good fire, huh?”
“Exactly like that, and maybe a glass of whiskey.”
“Yeah. Something nice and smooth.” Stetson winked at him. “Not that I know dick all about whiskey.”
“Nope. You’re a beer man.” Wasn’t that a song?
“I most definitely am. Cheap and easy.”
“Hey, now. I don’t think you’re easy at all.” He waited for the pinch he knew was coming.
It landed on his inner thigh, sharp and teasing.
He hooted, then looked around. No one was paying them any attention. He finished up his pie before licking the cream remaining out of the bowl.
“Look at you!” Stetson stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Lord have mercy, cowboy. You’re… something else.”
“Am I? I told you, no limits for Thanksgiving. I’ll need to work it off later, though.”
“I might—” Stetson went ruby red but didn’t drop his gaze. “I might could help with that.”
“I just bet you could.” Curtis wanted to go get their room. Now. Still, how often did Stetson get to linger over a meal? He wouldn’t push.
“You ready to head upstairs? I am. I’m ready for you.”
Now his cheeks heated. “I am.” He waved down their waiter, hoping he wasn’t being too much of a dick. “Can we get the check, please, sir?”
“Absolutely. Are you charging it to your room?”
“We haven’t checked in yet, so I’ll go ahead and pay.” He handed over his debit card.
“Thank you for supper, cowboy. I appreciate it.”
“I loved sharing it with you.” He really did. The last few years had been lonely, and he hadn’t even twigged to it until this week.
“Maybe….” Stetson stopped, shook his head. “I did too, cowboy. More than you’ll ever know.”
“Good.” The waiter brought back his card so Curtis could sign the check. He stood, then held out a hand for Stetson. Tonight wasn’t for maybes. It was just for them. A secret getaway.
They’d deal with the real tomorrow.
When Stetson took his hand right there in public, a savage sort of joy filled him. They checked in without a word, then headed upstairs. New beds, the desk man said, and he hadn’t blinked an eye when they asked for one king. Santa Gay for the win.
They went up, both of them putting their hats aside and sitting to take their boots off. He guessed they’d both done this before—together and separate—so there was no reason to act like virgins. He felt weirdly calm, even with the shivery goodness of knowing Stetson was right there.
Curtis reckoned he knew what he wanted. No wondering.
He reached up to unfasten his collar, and Stetson stopped him. “I want to do that, cowboy. Please.”
Curtis met those pretty dark eyes and nodded, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You got it, Roper.”
“Thank you. I dream about this, sometimes, baring you to my eyes.”
His buttons popped free easily, and Stetson leaned in, kissed the hollow of his throat as Stetson worked to open up his damn soul.
He slid one hand behind Stetson’s head, that cowboy short hair soft against his fingers. “I dream about you all the time.”
“Liar.” Stetson’s moan, though, said his lover believed him, knew there wasn’t a hint of a lie to it.
“Not one bit.” He took a kiss because he’d waited long enough and he didn’t want to miss the chance.
There was the strangest slide again—one where time stopped and Stetson was eighteen again, but at the same time not. This version was lean muscle formed from years of carrying sorrow and worry on those shoulders.
Curtis backed up a bit and helped Stetson undress as well, counting new scars.
“You’re fine to me.” Stetson’s fingers smoothed his shirt down off his shoulders, the rough edges of Stetson’s callused fingers better than any silken touch.
“Am I?” His ribs stood out and he knew it, but he was pretty well put together for a skinny bull rider. To hear Stetson tell him meant a lot.
“Yessir.” Stetson knelt before him, and he shook his head. He didn’t need…. A soft kiss touched his belly, and he gasped.
His muscles pulled up tight, his hips rocking. He panted, wanting more.
Please God, he prayed. Let this be real. Let this happen.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Stetson popped the button on Curtis’s jeans. “You know this. We were always so good at this.”
“We were. This part was easy.”
“Of course, we were both kids….” The sound as Stetson unzipped him was so fucking loud, almost drowning him out.
“Were we? We sure were wild for each other.”
Curtis cupped the back of Stetson’s head again and tilted so he could stare into those eyes. “Make no mistake, Roper. I still am wild for you.”
“Kiss me, cowboy. I need you.”
“Good.” Was there anything better than this? He kissed Stetson again and again, until the strain on his neck made him pull the man back up on the bed.
As fine as it had been to see Stetson kneeling in front of him, Stetson straddling his thighs was a special kind of bliss. Curtis caught his breath, his body going on high alert.
“Lord, you feel perfect,” he said.
Stetson chuckled for him, then leaned down to kiss him, giving him enough to drown in. They changed the angle and kept going, lips and tongues meeting, pressing, moving.
He held on to Stetson like a drowning man held on to a life raft.
Stetson clung to him the same way, the need flaring between them, the heat rising.
Damn, this was everything he wanted right now. Everything on earth.
He reached down, grabbing that fine, fine ass encased in Wranglers. Even skinny as Stetson was, it was a double handful of hard muscle, and Curtis squeezed. Stetson arched for him, rocked back into his body. Damn, but that made his mouth dry.
Trying to memorize every moment, Curtis stared at Stetson. He would never let this go, would hold it in the long months to come on the road. God, that was a thought. He was fixin’ to have to get on his pony and ride, but he sure as shit didn’t want to.
“Hey. Stay with me, huh?” Stetson cupped his face, stroked his cheeks like he was precious.
“Right here, babe. I swear.” He snapped back to the present, and he kissed Stetson once more, an addiction forming, that mouth like heaven.
Stetson rocked into him, again and again, that hard promise in his jeans enough to make him dizzy.
“Need the rest of your skin, Stetson. All of you.” He stood, lifting them both off the bed easily. Damn, he needed to fatten up his lover.
He was supposed to be the light one.
“Anything you want, cowboy.” The jeans stripped off easy as pie, and soon they were bare as the day they were born, sliding under the cold, crisp sheets and pressing together.
They lay on their sides, hands sliding on skin, the kisses taking on a different note now they were completely bare.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t do anything but touch and touch, stroking Stetson everywhere his hands could reach. He traced the line of shoulder and arm, then skated one hand over Stetson’s ribs, which stuck out too damned much.
Stetson chuckled, then pushed more firmly into his fingers, deepening the touch.
“Mmm. Hungry man.”
“I am. Strange, considering how much we just ate.”
Curtis chuckled, nipping at that swollen lower lip Stetson presented. “Dessert.”
“Had that too. Wasn’t good as this.”
“This is so much better.” He ghosted over the small of Stetson’s back, then stroked one asscheek. “An embarrassment of riches.”
Stetson chuckled for him, the sound deep and secret, something that belonged to him and him alone. “You know it.”
Then Stetson’s hand—that amazing, rough, scarred hand—found their cocks and wrapped around them both, measuring them from base to tip.
Curtis caught his breath, his body stilling completely for a moment. Even his heart stuttered, he figured. “Been so damned long.”
“You know it. No more.” Stetson stroked him, the touch as sure and wonderful as it had been the last time.
“Uh-huh?” Speech was becoming a luxury. He grunted, his hips moving slow and steady as he pushed into that touch.
Neither of them seemed to mind a bit, to be honest.
He pressed his hand hard to that tiny cowboy butt, keeping them in rhythm. Curtis wanted Stetson crazy for him, wanted to do all the things. This worked for now, though. They had all night.
Stetson groaned and leaned up, nipping Curtis’s jaw.
“Mmm-hmm. Feels damned good.” See him make words. Go him. He laughed, sheer joy taking him over for a moment. “Perfect, in fact.”
“Yes.” So simple, that word, but it was what he needed to hear.
He had all these other words trying to pop out, so he licked at Stetson’s skin instead, because what good would some of them do now? He nibbled along one collarbone, tasting the tiniest bit of sweat.
“Damn!” Stetson’s fingers squeezed, proving that he’d hit a hot spot and a half.
Yeah. Okay, he’d forgotten that and a thousand other things he needed to rediscover. Curtis scraped that place with his teeth one more time, damn near crowing when Stetson’s belly rolled for him.
He did that. He’d made those muscles clench up. He reached down for a moment, pressing his hand around Stetson’s just enough to give them both a thrill.
Stetson offered him a low cry that sounded damn near broken, so he lifted his head and swallowed the sound down, taking Stetson’s lips as he did.
They gave up on thinking then. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. They moved instinctively, both driving toward the pleasure they needed so badly. The release.
The rest could come later. Right now they needed this most basic of touches.
Curtis rocked faster, pushing against Stetson’s grip. “Harder, babe. More.”
“Uh-huh. I got this.” Stetson was true to his word too, tugging at him like he was pulling a bull rope.
He arched his back, his breath coming short. “Soon, babe. Too soon, but soon.” Was he making sense at all?
“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” Stetson nipped his earlobe, the tiny pain near unbearable.
“You do.” He bit his lower lip, then squeezed them together more firmly, his hand still around Stetson’s.
Stetson began to tease his slit with every single upstroke, and he wanted to scream. His balls drew up, his dick so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it. He was so sensitive, the tiniest thing was going to set him off like a rocket.
He shivered like he’d taken earthquake pills, his whole world gone sideways.
“It’s okay, cowboy. It’s okay. Come on and let go.” Stetson’s voice was low, rough, but the generosity in the words stunned him.
“Need you like breathing, Stetson.”
“I’m here. Right here. You can have anything you want.” Stetson ran one thumbnail over his slit, which made a bright flash of lightning run up his spine.
That was all she wrote, he shot like a Saturday night special—fast and hard and without warning.
His breath left his lungs in a whoosh, and time stopped. He froze, then began to shudder, his body working through the fireworks in his brain.
When he finally blinked at Stetson, he felt like a real heel. His lover was still sawing back and forth, almost sobbing his breath in and out. Jesus.
Curtis slapped Stetson’s hand away and grasped that long cock, jerking it with the rhythm he knew Stetson craved.
“Please.” There was a world of longing right there, and he intended to answer it.
“I got you. I do.” He watched every movement, every twist of that lean body. Stetson yearned like no one else; in fact, he begged with his entire soul. Curtis stroked and pulled, letting Stetson really feel his every motion, every callus. “Look at you ride.”
Goddamn, he could see that over and over, at every angle.
“I—oh fuck, Curtis. Oh damn.” Stetson’s eyes went wide, and the man came apart in his hands, crying out as he shot, slick wetness easing the way of his touch.
Stetson blinked at him, and for a second Curtis thought his lover was going to lose it, but then Stetson just pushed in and leaned hard against him.
“That’s it.” That release of tension had been enormous for Curtis. He couldn’t even imagine how Stetson felt, dealing with this situation for years now. “I got you. I promise.”
“I know.” The words came soft, almost sad, but neither one of them would say anything about it.
They would take what they could tonight, for sure, and let tomorrow wake them up only when they had to.
Then they’d get their collective shits back together.