The Cowboy Poet (12 page)

Clint, I… Tyler faltered, the words he longed to say hovering just beyond his grasp. Instead he managed, It feels so good…so good.
As Clint rode Tyler, Tyler reached for Clint‘s erection, which was hard and warm against his fingers. Tyler experienced pleasure so intense he knew he wouldn‘t be able to last much longer. He managed to continue stroking Clint, even as a long shudder eddied its way through his body.
That‘s it, Clint urged. Come for me, Ty.
Tyler let go, allowing the cum to shoot through his loins, his cock milked by the tight ring of muscle as Clint lifted and lowered himself in a steady, perfect rhythm.
Tyler tightened his grip on Clint‘s cock, pumping it only a few times before Clint groaned and jerked against him, the hot, silky ejaculate erupting and spilling down his fingers. Tyler felt the warm splatter of a few drops against his cheek, just beside his mouth. He tasted its salty sweetness with the tip of his tongue and smiled.
Clint lifted himself from Tyler and fell beside him, pulling him into his arms. They lay quietly a while, tangled together as their heartbeats slowed and their breathing eased back to normal.
I think I’m in love with you.

The words reverberated again in Tyler‘s head in Clint‘s deep rasping voice, as if he were saying them aloud once again. Tyler had heard those words before. He‘d even uttered them himself once or twice, though he‘d never really believed them, not from the other guy or his own lips.

But this felt different. Clint‘s words had shot past his brain, zinging like an arrow straight to his heart. Screwing up his courage, Tyler began, Clint, I think I… He hesitated, turning to face him.

But Clint‘s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. Tyler watched him a long while, memorizing the curves and planes of his weather-beaten face, his heart actually aching with tenderness. Finally he finished the sentence, his voice little more than a whisper. …love you too. But Clint, fast asleep, didn‘t hear.

They were lying in bed in an easy tangle of limbs as the first streaks of sunlight crept over the sill. Tyler lay quiet, fighting a silent battle in his head. He wanted to tell Clint. He longed to tell him, and yet he couldn‘t seem to muster the courage. He ached to whisper his secrets about the dark place in his head that made his heart beat too fast and his breath catch in his throat and his mouth run dry. To show Clint what was hidden in the bottom drawer of the nightstand that he‘d never shown another soul.

Would Clint understand? Could anyone understand his need, a need so great he‘d allowed Wayne to do what he‘d done, though the shame of it haunted him still?
What‘s got into you, Ty? You‘ve gone rigid as a board.
I‘m sorry, Tyler said, pulling away from Clint‘s embrace. I thought you were sleeping too. Did I wake you?
Nah. Just lyin‘ here thinkin‘ how good it feels to be with you.
Tyler smiled in the half-light. Clint, he said quietly. There‘s something… He paused, his courage ebbing.
What is it, Ty? What‘s goin‘ on in that head of yours?
It‘s just. I was thinking… Again he paused.
Go on, Clint urged gently.
Well, remember last night you said that thing about our special kind of loving not being about abuse, but…
That‘s right.
But I, well…I need…I mean… Tyler let out an angry puff of breath. Clint had assured him over and over that he could trust him—he was safe to say whatever was in his mind and heart, so why was this so hard?
You‘ve got somethin‘ to say but you‘re scared to say it, Clint said, as usual honing right in on what was bothering Tyler.
Yeah, he admitted. Something bad.
Bad?
Well, I mean, something about me. That I don‘t think you really understand. Something that might…change things.
Clint pulled himself up against the headboard and faced Tyler with a solemn expression. Tyler, I can‘t think of anything at all about you that I might discover that would change how I feel about you. He reached out, touching Tyler‘s arm. Listen, I have an idea. Just tell me. Take a deep breath, open your mouth, and just let out whatever it is you got to say. You‘ll feel a whole lot better after, I promise.
Clint was right. Either he trusted him or he didn‘t. This was his chance, for the first time in his life, to share what he had kept hidden from everyone, even himself in a way, for so long.
Taking that suggested breath, Tyler rolled from the bed and knelt up on the floor beside it. He reached for the bottom drawer and pulled it open. He could feel Clint‘s eyes on him but he didn‘t look up.
His heart bumping against his ribs, he pulled open the drawer, feeling toward the back for what he had never showed another soul—until now.
It was a small black leather whip with a filigreed silver handle. The whip was about seven inches long, a small cat-o-nine tails with knotted ends, and the online catalog had described it as ideal for cock and ball torture.
Cock and ball torture.
Just the words sent a shiver of dark lust through Tyler‘s blood.
Hoping his hand wasn‘t shaking, Tyler held the whip out to Clint, still not quite able to meet his eye. He could feel the flush of his embarrassment at war with the burn of his desire.
Clint took the whip from his hand. Nice, he said, drawing out the word as he ran his fingers over the leather falls. You bought this for yourself?
Tyler nodded, biting his lip.
Anyone ever use it on you?
Slowly Tyler shook his head. He wouldn‘t have dreamed of showing any of the casual pickups he brought back to the apartment from time to time what he had hidden in the back of his drawer.
Why had he showed Clint? Now Clint would see how twisted he really was. It was one thing to make use of the crops and quirts already available in the tack rooms, and the rope that was handy on any ranch. But it was quite another thing to specifically go out and buy something like that. He wasn‘t merely submitting to another man‘s control. By purchasing the whip, he was admitting that he longed for the sensual pain he knew those knotted strands of leather could give him. And now Clint knew it too.
Tell me what you want, Ty, Clint said softly. What do you want me to do with this whip?
I want… Tyler‘s voice came out hoarse. He coughed and cleared his throat.
Please God, let him understand
, Tyler silently prayed. Could anyone understand this unnatural longing?
Tell me.
He‘d showed him the whip. Clint knew his secret now, so why hold back any longer? Clint would think what he thought. It was time to stand up and admit his deepest feelings, no matter what happened next. And so, Tyler said the words: Pain. I want you to hurt me, Clint. I want you to use this on me. I need it. His voice broke, I need it so damn bad.
Hot tears sprang into his eyes, tears of shame, of longing, of relief. There. He had said it aloud. He needed to feel the pain. It wasn‘t just about submission and giving over control. He needed the pain. And he needed a man like Clint to give it to him.
Clint reached for him, smudging away the tear that had slipped down his cheek. That‘s right, he said. You need the pain. And I need to give it to you. Ain‘t nothin‘ wrong with that, Ty. For you and me, it‘s as natural as breathing. It‘s a part of who we are. Don‘t feel no shame for that, Ty. Feel proud that you found the courage to tell me. Feel strong that you‘re goin‘ to lie down now and take my whip on your cock and balls. You‘re goin‘ to do it for me. You‘re goin‘ to do it for you. You‘re goin‘ to do it for
us
.
Another tear slipped down Tyler‘s cheek, as gratitude flooded through him. Clint had understood. He hadn‘t winced with disgust or recoiled in horror. When Tyler finally met his eye, Clint was smiling at him, that slow, sexy smile that always made Tyler‘s cock hard.
Get me some rope, Ty. And a pocketknife.
Tyler nodded and stood, glad for something to do, something to ease the powerful tension that had built inside him. He went in search of the coil of clothesline he kept in a kitchen drawer. He retrieved his pocketknife along the way and returned to the bedroom.
Clint slid from the bed and accepted the rope and knife from Tyler. Lie down on your back, arms and legs extended, he ordered, and Tyler obeyed, his heart booming in his chest.
He watched in silent, intent anticipation as Clint cut the rope into lengths and moved around the bed, sliding the rope beneath the mattress. He brought it up at each corner, using the ends to loop Tyler‘s wrists and ankles in slip knots Tyler knew he could release at a moment‘s notice.
Clint picked up the whip in one hand. With the other, he ran his fingers lightly over Tyler‘s outstretched arms, lightly squeezing Tyler‘s biceps. He let the tresses of the whip glide over Tyler‘s chest and abdomen. He moved the whip lower, the strands tickling at Tyler‘s cock and gliding over his balls. In spite of Tyler‘s fear and nervous anticipation, the touch of leather drew a violent shudder from him, and he swallowed hard, feeling almost faint with lust.
Tell me again, Ty. I want to hear those words. What do you need?
I… Tyler closed his eyes. I need you to hurt me. To whip me. Please, Sir.
How many times had he fantasized of this moment, of being tied down to the bed with rope, spread eagle and at his faceless dominant lover‘s mercy? How many nights, drenched in loneliness, near despair, had he fallen asleep dreaming of this very thing? And now that lover had a face, and a name. Clint Darrow was offering him his deepest held secret fantasy, without censure, without judgment, without shame.
It was happening. It was really happening.
~*~
We‘ll start easy, Clint said, as he slid the leather over Tyler‘s thighs, teasing in a circle around his cock and balls without actually touching them. Tyler‘s eyes were fastened on the whip and again he licked his lips. Clint could feel his nervous anticipation, and beneath it the nearly desperate desire for what Clint was offering. But the guy was as skittish as a wild colt his first time under a saddle.
He understood the courage it must have taken to say those words aloud. And the trust he‘d placed in Clint to say them. He sat beside Tyler and stroked his brow with a gentling touch.
It‘s okay, Ty. You‘re safe. Somethin‘ tells me you‘ve been waitin‘ a long time for this, and you‘re ready now. It‘s time. And I‘m the man to take you where you need to go.
Tyler nodded and relaxed some against the mattress. He reached for Tyler‘s balls, gently cupping them as he moved the knotted leather over his cock.
Tyler closed his eyes.
You want it, Ty? You ready?
Eyes still closed, Tyler whispered, Yeah, his chest rising and falling as his breath quickened.
Clint let go of Tyler‘s balls and flicked his wrist, delivering a light, steady rain of leather over Tyler‘s thighs, cock and balls. Tyler shuddered and gasped, his cock actually straining toward the leather stroke.
Clint watched his face, saw the yearning and the raw desire there. Yes, Tyler was born for this, and Clint was born to give it to him. If pressed he wouldn‘t have been able to properly explain the sharp, focused thrill that taking someone like Tyler to the edge of their endurance gave him. All he knew was that, just like Tyler, this was exactly where he needed to be.
He flicked the whip with more force, the knotted ends hitting their target with a whoosh of sound. Ah! Tyler cried, and Clint saw the small red marks the knots had left appearing on his rigid shaft. He struck lower, catching the sensitive skin of Tyler‘s scrotum. Tyler jerked hard at the ropes that bound his wrists and cried out again.
Clint struck him again, and again, each blow as hard or harder than the last. His own cock was throbbing, his heart racing with excitement as he watched Tyler writhe and heard his sweet, breathy moans and cries. Tyler‘s cock and balls were reddening from the relentless, stinging kiss of knotted leather. A sheen of sweat had broken out over his skin, the tufts of blond hair beneath his arms darkening and curling.
Clint varied the pace and intensity of the lashing, moving the whip in a dance of unpredictable strokes over Tyler‘s cock, balls and thighs. Tyler was panting now, his hips rising to meet each stroke, the tip of his cock shiny with pre-cum.
Oh god, he cried, as Clint whipped him to a frenzy. Fuck!
Cords were straining at his neck, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Clint hit him harder, drawing a long, low moan that was as much pleasure as pain. That‘s it, Clint urged. Do it. Come from the whipping. Show me how much you need this.
Sudden, short bursts of pearly ejaculate shot over Tyler‘s stomach and chest. Clint lowered the whip, watching the passion play of his lover‘s orgasm, deeply moved to know he had taken him there.
When Clint released him from the rope, Tyler scrambled up, pushing Clint back against the bed with surprising force. For a split second Clint thought he was going to hit him, but instead Tyler crouched between Clint‘s thighs, reaching with hands and mouth for Clint‘s cock.
His attentions were nothing short of worship as he took Clint‘s shaft deep in his throat and then let it go, only to cover it with kisses and long, slow licks of his tongue. He was moving his lips between kisses, and to Clint it looked like he was praying. He focused on Tyler‘s mouth, trying to see what he was saying, because he heard no sound but his own groans of pleasure.
Thank you, he realized Tyler was whispering over and over. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
~*~
Clint awoke to the aroma of brewing coffee. He glanced at the bed beside him but it was empty. He stretched lazily and put his hands behind his head. Though he loved being with Ty, he realized he missed the ranch already. He was in no hurry to return, however, having cleared the week with Joe, who owed him about a year of untaken vacation time.
The aching weight of despair Clint had allowed to settle over him the week before had lifted, and in a way that suffering had made this reunion all the sweeter. It had brought into sharp relief how much this mattered. He had nearly let hurt feelings and wounded pride cost him a second chance. If Jonas hadn‘t kicked some sense into him, he might still be sitting beside that stream, surrounded by pointed sticks like a fence that kept out everything good.
He looked around the bedroom, with its sparse furniture and empty walls. He tried to imagine what it would be like living here all the time. Austin was close enough to real country that within an hour‘s drive he could lose himself in the rolling hills that surrounded it, but there was no getting around the fact that Austin was the city, and it had enough concrete and glass to last him a lifetime. Sure, there were parks and greenery, but none of the wide open spaces that Clint needed to feel free and easy.
And yet, Tyler was here. Tyler had chosen to make his life here, and Clint loved Tyler. With the whipping, they‘d crossed a new line. Clint had felt the shame sloughing from Tyler like an old skin, no longer needed. He felt the fierce, passionate joy in Tyler‘s grateful thanks afterwards, and understood he wasn‘t only thanking him for the whipping, but for helping him to break free of a shame he‘d carried like shackles probably most of his life.
Clint was grateful too—grateful for the trust Tyler had placed in him by sharing his deepest secrets and opening himself to the possibility of rejection. Clint had tumbled deeper into this new thing called love, and while it was still kind of scary, it was also powerful and sweet, like a strong, fine whiskey. All his life he‘d dreamed of a love like this, though truth to tell, he‘d come to believe it only existed in song lyrics and love poems. At least for him, love seemed to have passed him by. Until now.
His musings were interrupted by Tyler, who entered the bedroom carrying two mugs of coffee.
‘Bout time you woke up, sleepyhead. Tyler was wearing only a pair of boxers, his blond hair tousled and falling into his eyes. Clint drank in the sight of him, wondering if he‘d ever get tired of Tyler‘s look of adoration and his boyish, eager longing. He knew he would not.
Tyler settled on the edge of the bed and handed Clint a mug. Clint sat up against the headboard and sipped.
Tyler‘s cell phone rang and he rummaged on the floor until he found his jeans from last night and pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It‘s my sister. I‘ll just be a sec.
Hey, what‘s up? Tyler said into the phone as he settled on the bed beside Clint. Clint felt his body go rigid as he listened. Oh, no! Is he okay? How‘d it happen? There was a lengthy pause and then, You know I can‘t do that, Sarah. I got this job and all… Another pause and then, Yeah, I understand you got a ranch to run. I know…Okay. Okay, I‘ll figure something out. Let me call you back this afternoon, okay? I‘m barely awake.
There was another long pause, during which Tyler looked toward Clint, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of apology before turning away again. Okay, okay, he finally said. Look, I‘ll call you back this afternoon, I promise. Just give me a little time here.
He shut the phone and stood staring at the counter, seemingly lost in thought.
What happened? What‘s going on? Clint asked.