The Last Chance Ranch (16 page)

"My God but you're beautiful,” Temper murmured, bending to place a kiss on his chest, just above his heart. He worked his way back down Larry's body, using hands and lips both, until his nose was just an inch away from his lover's cock. He blew a warm breath at it, watched in fascination as it twitched. A bead of liquid swelled at its tip. Temper had never even thought about it before, but he found himself leaning forward to capture it with his tongue. Larry gave out a grunt and bucked like a horse under the first touch of a saddle. Licking his lips, Temper chuckled and went in for another taste. He had to clamp his hands down on those boney hips and hang on for the ride.

My, but that boy could wriggle something fierce.

He couldn't say it was a pleasant taste, but Temper figured he could get used to it. Circling the shaft with his thumb and trigger finger, he stroked at the strong pace he himself favored, sucking awkwardly at the spongy head. Larry made a noise deep in his throat, a rumbling groan that made Temper grab himself right through his britches. He was just finding a good rhythm when Larry snatched him by the ears and pushed him away.

They rolled in the dirt, pulling at clothes until every last stitch was gone. Larry paused to root around in his saddlebag, and then he was pushing Temper over on his back and straddling his thighs. Temper nearly lost control of himself when he felt the oil, warm from being so close to the fire, spill over his cock and dribble down the sac of his tight, drawn-up balls. He shuddered and bit his lip. Larry waited, looming over him with a smirk, while he caught his breath. “Brat,” Temper rumbled.
This boy is gonna be the death of me....

And then Larry gripped his cock in a slippery hand and moved over him. Shadows hid his movements from Temper's eyes, but there was no question what he was doing.

Temper had had women before, a few times in his life, and it had felt good, but nothing could compare to the feeling of Larry slowly lowering himself, taking Temper deep into his body. He lay perfectly still, so much of his mind focused on the joining of their bodies, there was nothing left to remind him to breathe. The tightness and the heat were nearly unbearable, the urge to thrust just about more than he could stand, but he forced himself not to move, not to think, just to feel. Feel, and commit every second, every sensation to memory. This? Whatever the Bible or the preachers might say, this was something holy, something to be revered and treasured and remembered always.

Larry's body nestled against his, fitting together like a tongue-in-groove joint. A drop of sweat fell from his face, spiraling through the dark to land in the center of Temper's chest. Temper's breath came back in a whooping gasp, along with sound and sight and all his awareness of the world outside of his lover's body. Larry was moving, sliding up and down Temper's hardness, and Temper grabbed his hips and bucked, hard, up into the heat. Larry threw his head back and moaned, the closest Temper had ever heard him to speaking a word, and Temper knew he'd do anything to hear that sound again. He wanted this to go on and on, to last forever.

But Larry was in charge now, and he had no such patience. Hands braced on his thighs, muscles flexing under taut skin, he lifted himself and plunged back down, sending Temper deep into his body time and time again. His face, half-hidden in the dark, was slack and shut-eyed, making him look like a wild animal in rut. Temper felt a jolt go through him at the thought and knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he reached up and got hold of Larry's cock, jerking it roughly in time to their rocking. Needy noises made their way out of Larry's throat and he rocked faster. Temper felt like his cock had grown big as a fencepost. Larry let loose with a strangled cry. Hot seed flowed over Temper's hand and showered onto his belly, and he groaned helplessly and emptied himself into Larry's willing body.

Stars and sparks were all around him, flashing in the sky and behind his eyes. Temper's heart raced, his chest heaved and pulled in cool night air. Larry pulled carefully away, but before Temper could regret the loss, he was back, wiping them both down with his discarded shirt. Temper caught his arm and pulled him down, tucking him against his side and pulling his tousled head under Temper's chin. Larry stretched like a long, lean cat and nuzzled his face into Temper's neck. His breathing evened out quickly into a soft snore.

Temper lay awake for a long time, staring at the heavens and listening to that breathing.

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Damn near every head in town turned when the wagon rumbled down Main Street. Lonnie brought it to a stop outside the saloon and climbed down, and the men lined up in front of him to get paid.

"Listen up!” Lonnie bellowed, his voice echoing off the wooden storefronts on either side of the road. “Same town rules as usual, but nobody goes off alone. Anybody starts trouble, they'll answer to me. Somebody starts with you, come get me or Obie. Got it?” Nods and mumbled assents met his warning, and he doled out each man's wages. Obie pocketed his own earnings and watched as Lonnie climbed back onto the wagon. Porter settled beside him, rifle at the ready. “Watch ‘em close, Obie,” Lonnie called as they drove off. “We won't be long."

Obie kept track of where each man went, in pairs or in groups, and he followed most of them into the saloon. There were whispers and startled looks shooting around the room as the Bar J hands crowded around the bar, but Obie decided to ignore them.

"Evening, Stanley,” he greeted, settling onto an empty stool. The bartender put a glass of beer in front of him with a smile.

"Good to have you boys back,” he said. “Ben coming?"

"Not tonight. Said to run the usual tab, though.” Leastways, Obie was sure he would have said so, if he'd been asked.

Obie put his back to the bar and looked over the room, glancing from face to face with a gambler's practiced eye. His first look, as always, went to the table in the corner where the boys from the mill spent their time. There seemed to be more of them than usual, crowded around, sloshing beer out of pitchers and playing a game that involved dice and a lot of swearing. James Arcady was with them. The Mexican was not.

Stanley followed his gaze and leaned forward, eager as ever to share gossip. “Arne let a bunch of ‘em go this week. Not enough work, he says."

Hell, Obie thought. Sam and Gus had meant well by not buying Arne's lumber, but the short-term result was likely to be a problem. Last thing they needed was a pack of shiftless, out-of-work lumber boys roaming around with no one holding the reins. A few of them met his stare with dirty looks and one gesture he hadn't seen since leaving Kansas City, but they quickly turned back to their game.

"Obie!"

Grinning at the familiar booming voice, Obie turned and stretched out a hand to Sam Barstow. The rancher shook it, a pleased grin turning up the corners of his elaborate moustache. “Finally made it into town, didja? Come play some cards. You must have quite a stake burnin’ a hole in your pocket."

"Think I'll hold onto it a bit longer, Sam. I need to keep an eye on things. Any trouble tonight and I'll never hear the end of it."

"Ben's not with you, then?"

"Naw.” Obie did a poor job of hiding his disappointment. He knew it, too, but being in town without his lover felt so damn lonely.

"Well hell,” drawled a voice from behind him, “if you could wait for a fella to have a wash and put on a clean shirt...."

Obie damn near fell off his stool for spinning around so fast. Grinning like a right smartass, Ben slid in next to his elbow. It took all of Obie's restraint not to kiss his smug face right then and there in the saloon. He settled for a none-too-gentle shove to the arm. “'Bout time you got here."

Sam slapped Ben hard on the shoulder, and soon a small crowd gathered around to greet him. Obie slid off to one side so he could keep an eye on the mill boys and Bar J hands both. He was the first one to see James Arcady approach.

"What the hell do you want?” Obie snapped.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Ben's soft voice sounded in his ear. “Easy, Obediah.” His tone changed as he confronted his former employee, polite but distant. “What can I do for you, Mr. Arcady?"

Arcady shot a nervous glance back at his table, where the mill boys were quiet, watching him. “I just come over to say I'm sorry ‘bout Snow. Me and him had our differences, but what happened to him weren't right. Well, that's all I have to say."

He turned to walk away, almost missing Ben's quiet response. “Thank you, James.” Arcady stopped and gave a short nod, then went back to his seat without looking back. Obie didn't like him any better, and he sure didn't trust him, but he felt like just maybe there was one less gun pointed in their direction. He swept his eyes across the room once more, saw nothing worrisome, and returned to his beer.

Ben leaned up next to him. For a long while they were quiet, a little bubble of stillness in the noisy room. Obie felt the familiar warmth, smelled the smell of him that he'd been missing so bad, and it tested his will sorely, for he wanted to pull the man close and kiss him senseless, and wouldn't that go over well right there in town? He settled for saying, “Glad you decided to come."

"So am I."

A crash behind them had them both turning, but it was only the regular scuffle between Billy and Dex. Ben frowned and motioned to the bartender. After a quick whispered discussion Stanley handed over a key.

Ben strode over and halted the fight, pulling the two seething men apart. Obie couldn't hear what he said to them, but he gave them the key and shoved them toward the back door.

"What was that all about?"

"Don't want ‘em on the street. Might cause trouble with the sheriff, God knows who else."

"So you got ‘em a room to fight in?"

Ben barked a startled laugh, nearly choking on his beer. “Well, I guess they can fight in it, or anything else they got a mind to."

Frowning, Obie puzzled it out. What else.... “Hell no. Them two?” Ben nodded, hiding a grin in his mug. “How long?"

"Longer than you been around, that's for sure."

"Well hell. How'd I miss that?"

Ben's smile faded a little and he dropped his voice. “Tell you what I miss. I miss you."

"I ain't gone nowhere. Thought about it, but the boys brought me to my senses."

The older man dropped his gaze to the bar, his jaw working as he struggled with his words. “I dreamed of you, last night. Dreamed I was standing in the graveyard, and I looked down the hill and you were standin’ out front of the barn, and your hair was fire."

"Huh. Why the hell was my hair on fire?"

"Not on fire, exactly. More like it was made of fire. It... bothered me,” Ben murmured, fiddling anxiously with a stack of coins on the bar. “I want you to move back up to the house."

Obie felt his heart surge at the words he'd been waiting to hear. One look at Ben's face, though, made him think long and hard before answering. “Naw. Not just yet."

Confusion and hurt flashed across the older man's face in the second before the walls went up. “Just hold on, Ben, let me say my piece. You sent me away so you could think and get your head straight. It hurt me, I won't lie, but now I'm thinkin’ it was a good thing to do. I want you to take a little more time for yourself."

Ben's face was troubled, like a sky that couldn't quite decide if it wanted to rain. “I asked you to come back. What more do you want?"

"I want you to ask ‘cause you want me back, not ‘cause you're afraid I'll leave.” Obie grabbed a handful of Ben's shirt sleeve and gave it a shake. “I ain't goin’ nowhere, old man. I'll be here when you're ready."

Ben couldn't seem to look at him, but his right hand shot out and covered Obie's, squeezing it hard. It was more touching than they usually allowed themselves in town, and even this much was scandalous, dangerous. They held on as long as they dared, and then Ben chuckled and gave him a little shove. “Go on and play some cards. I'll keep an eye on things."

Flashing a wide grin, Obie picked up his beer and went to take his usual seat. He was greeted like the regular he'd become, and Sam dealt him in. Obie looked from his truly awful hand to his lover, slouched watchfully at the bar. And even though Snow wasn't there no more, even though it couldn't ever be the same, Obie started to think things were returning to normal.

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Standing in the middle of the cleared field, Ben pushed his hat back and planted his fists on his hips. “Fine work, boys. Mighty fine work."

"Couple big stumps we couldn't pull up,” Temper said, pointing them out. “Gonna need dynamite to shift ‘em."

"All right. We'll put it on the list for town. How'd we make out with lumber?"

"Not as good as I'd hoped, boss. Most of the stuff we cleared was scrub and small saplings, not too much that's good for planin'."

Ben sighed. “Figures. Kinda the way our luck's goin’ these days, ain't it? I guess we ought to focus on the well first, anyhow. Set up a rotation for diggin'. Everybody takes a turn, me included.” Larry gave him a skeptical look, and Ben crooked up one side of his mouth. “What? I'm not so old as I'll keel over from diggin’ a hole."

"Nawsir,” Temper agreed, but he was smiling too. It was damn good to see the man taking an interest in the ranch again. He'd been around lately, back to working with the horses and talking to the hands. Temper also suspected he and Obie were working through their troubles. The younger man was calm and happy these last few weeks, though he was still sleeping in the bunkhouse.

"You know somethin'? I don't care to wait on that dynamite. You two take yourselves off and clean up a bit. I want you to go into town tonight. See about that dynamite, and you might as well order the pump for the well while you're at it."

Temper glanced at the sky. “Gettin’ late, boss. Store won't be open time we get there, not on a Tuesday."

Ben looked from Temper to Larry and a soft smile touched his face. “I'm aware. Go on into town, get yourselves a room for the night.” He pulled a few bills out of his pocket and handed them over to Temper. “Have a few beers and enjoy yourselves. This here's a hard job, well done. You've earned it."