Rodeo Passion: A M/M Western Romance

by Emilia Loft

  “Evan you’re married and I –“

  “S’not like that, me ‘n Lisa. We don’t share a bed, just a roof and four walls. Only thing we got between us is carin’ for that boy. So I can’t leave them, but I don’t love her….never did.” A hand

  wraps around the back of Casper’s neck, hot breath against his lips. “Tell me you don’t want me. Just tell me to go and I’ll go, never bother you again. Just say it Cas.”

  “Evan, please.”

  “You have to say it cause I can’t. I can’t be near you if you don’t say it. I’ll listen, I swear, you just gotta -“

  He’s cut off by Casper’s mouth crashing into his own. They each sob with relief at the contact, sucking and biting at each other’s mouths, frenzied and wet. But while Casper has twisted his hands under Evan’s duster to pull and grab at whatever he can reach, Evan holds back, the one hand still clasped firmly at the back of the preacher’s neck, but the other a fist at his side, shaking in time with the rest of his body. Somehow he pulls away to look down at Cas, but the preacher gasps and pulls him back in hard. Another full minute is lost before he manages to do it again, this time holding the man firm by the scruff of his neck to keep him in place.

  “Wait, Cas! You gotta….” And he struggles for the words because he’s so turned on right now he

  feels like he could scream. “I’m not gonna stop this time, you get me?”

  Casper made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want you to stop, Evan.”

  Evan doesn’t let go. “I mean you gotta be sure, if we keep going preacher, I’m gonna fuck you.”

  Casper slid both hands up Evan’s back, pressing their hips together as he moans. “Yesss. Evan yes fuck me, I need you to.”

  “Dammit!” The sound of Cas cussin’ lights Evan’s blood on fire. He’s given the man a chance, he’s done what he can to be decent about this, but with that assent, the last reserves of his composure are depleted.

  He attacks Casper’s clothes, stripping him of the long coat his always wears then moving to tear open his vest, buttons skittering across the floor. Next the bowtie is tugged off and the soft lawn shirt rucked up and peeled over Cas’ head. Now that he’s naked from the waist up, Cas moves in to kiss Evan, but the sheriff is a thing possessed. He grabs the preacher by his hips and hauls him up onto the kitchen table, pulling off his boots and socks before pushing him to his back and making short work of his trousers.

  In the moonlight, Casper’s skin glows almost blue where he’s laid out on the worn tabletop, a pagan feast. Evan stands over him, still fully dressed from hat to spurs and takes a moment to just look while Casper trembles beneath him with the anticipation and the chill of the night air. His cock shifts impatiently where it lies heavy and hard on his belly and Evan’s aches in sympathy.

  “I thought about exactly this Cas, when I fixed this table. I made it good an’ strong, imagined spreading you out just like this.”

  He leaned in then, and Casper was rapt with anticipation, with the hot breath along his shaft. But he doesn’t get the wet enveloping heat he’s expecting, half insane for. Evan palms his ass in both hands, spreading him apart, and without any tease or warning is lapping full, long stripes across his pink little hole. It unleashes a flood of curses, gasps, pleading. He never knew…never knew it could feel like this. Casper arches and writhes on the table, then Evan begins to spear him with his tongue, curl it around the inside of him until he’s white-knuckling the sides of the table and screaming EvanEvanEvanEvanEvan!!

  What’s killing him is that he can’t even see Evan, hidden behind the wall of his wide brimmed hat that brushes a tormenting circle along his thighs and belly in time with Evan’s wicked mouth. He feels the circling of a finger and makes to say something, but forgets the moment it presses in slow.

  “Shit Cas you’re on fire. Gonna get you nice an’ open for me, gonna make you feel so good.”

  “Take yer blasted hat off!” It’s the only full sentence he can manage before fingers and tongue are back to task, caressing and stretching, thumb massaging his rim until he’s reduced again to pleading Evan’s name.

  “Nah, I like it like this. All mine.” Casper wonders what he even means, but not too hard since now there are two fingers breaching him and thought is useless. God it feels like forever before Evan stands abruptly and leaves him puddled on the kitchen table to root around his cabinets.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” Evan laughs lowly at Casper’s utter incredulity at being left.

  “Don’t worry sweetheart, gotta make this good for you.” He finds what he’s after, turning back with the jar of cooking oil Missouri had given him.

  “What is that-?” But his question is answered when Evan pours some into his hand, slipping two greased fingers back into the preacher easy as anything. “Oh, oh yes this is much better!”

  “Hehe…just wait.” Soon there’s three. It’s almost too much before it isn’t anymore, the burn giving way under the constant thrust of Evan’s knowing fingers.

  “Aahh! Evan I think I’m gonna –“

  “Not yet sweetheart, you can’t come until I’m inside you.”

  “Evan!” They both know what the plea means.

  “Alright Cas, I got you.” He leaves his fingers in place as he unbuckles his holster and lowers it to the floor, undoes his belt and pants with a shaking hand. Casper tries to prop up, but it’s too dark to get a proper look. Evan finally removes his fingers to pour more oil in his hand, slick up his cock, and it’s only now that Casper gets a glimpse, shining slick and demanding as it thrusts out from the shadows of Evan’s coat into the tunnel of his hand. He shivers, suddenly unsure how it will ever fit.

  Evan takes hold of his thighs, shifts him forward so his ass is half hanging off the table. “Wrap your legs around me Cas….yeah like that. And don’t close yer eyes, okay? I need to watch you.”

  Casper does as he’s told, “Yeah…okay.”

  With his guiding hand, Evan slides around Casper’s hole until he’s found his mark, then presses… presses… pushes against him insistently until Casper doesn’t think it will work. He breathes in deep and tries to relax, starting up into green eyes that watch him close the entire time. He nods, and Evan presses harder until finally the blunt head of his cock makes it past that constricting ring of muscle.

  “You okay?” Evan sounds wrecked. Casper has no way of understanding if he’s okay or not, he just knows that he can’t stop. He barely starts nodding before Evan is sliding in deeper, slowslowslow but still splitting him apart and fitting him back together around the pulsing length that’s taking over his insides. The sensation is….strange, burning intrusion with the flicker of pleasure and he’s sure that if Evan would only start moving it would get so much better.

  “Jesus fucking Christ Cas,” he snaps his hips once and they both gasp. Again and Casper cries out so filthy desperate Evan has nothing left in him strong enough to hold back any longer. One arm wrapped around Cas’ waist from below does the job of holding the preacher in place through the syncopated thrusts of Evan’s hips, while the other sheaths Casper’s rock hard erection with oil slick digits and works him fast and rough. Evan can’t hold it together much longer and he’ll be damned if Cas doesn’t follow him down. No more intelligible words, just the industry of skin meeting skin, the harmony of gut deep groans and grunts, the building pressure inside each of them. And Evan either has an excellent sense of timing or is lucky as a new penny because when he yells a high brass note he’s joined a heartbeat later by the low staccato moaning of Casper as each man is coiled then released with the devastating pleasure in his own way.

  When they’re aware enough to move, Evan props up from where he’s collapsed on top of Casper.

  “You okay?” There’s a soft note of worry in his voice that brings Casper back down to earth. Is he okay?

  “More than okay. I feel….very good right now Evan.”

  “Yeah?” He smiles as he kisses the
preacher, soft and sweet. “Sit up.”

  Casper complies as Evan pulls his hand, ducking down as he keeps pulling and in the next moment Casper is slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

  “Hey!”

  Evan stalks across the room with a naked preacher clutched in one arm while the other strokes possessively up and down his pale flank. “Didn’t think that was it, did you?”

  Casper wonders what it says about him that he’s rapidly getting hard again from the sound of Evan’s spurs jingling as he marches up the stairs.

  7

  Chapter 7

  “Evan! You in there?!”

  Casper bolts up in panic from where he’d been lying tranquilly in Evan’s arms watching the sunrise paint the walls a moment before.

  “Shit.” Evan swings his legs over the bed and begins to pull on his pants, hopping a bit to shimmy himself in. He lays a firm kiss on Cas’ worried lips. “It’s just Sam, but if he’s here it means something’s up.”

  “Sam?” Casper begins to scramble, remembering that his clothes from the night before are all still decorating the kitchen floor. “He’s not coming in is he? And how does he know you’re here?”

  “Don’t worry angel, Sam’s known how I feel about you for a while now. He’s sharp enough to figure out where I spent the night.”

  “And he doesn’t….does anyone else know?” Casper struggles to put on a clean set of clothes as

  quickly as possible. Evan stops what he’s doing, shirt still lying open but guns in place, and wraps his arms around Casper to still him, settle him with a slow kiss that deepens between them despite themselves. By the time they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair Sam is shouting again.

  “Evan your goddamned horse is here, stop ignoring me an’ get yer ass down here!”

  “You got nothin’ to worry about Cas, Sam’s on our side. Probably set us up seein’ as last night’s supper was his idea. Tidy the kitchen an’ get some coffee on.” He steals another quick kiss as Casper makes an irritated face.

  “Yes dear.”

  Evan hurries outside with a bang of the front door, and Casper can hear them talking quietly between themselves as he runs about gathering the evidence and stowing it in another room. He pauses when spies the jar of cooking oil, then again when he finally takes a seat at the table, lowering himself carefully into the chair with a noticeable grimace. Meals in this room would never feel the same. A set of feet pounds up his steps and Evan bursts in, a tight look on his face.

  “Coffee’s gonna have to wait, I gotta go into town with Sam.” “Is everything alright?”

  “Nothin’ you need to worry about, someone causing a ruckus at Ellen’s, someone that needs remindin’ that I kicked his sorry ass out of here with orders not to show his ugly hide ‘round these parts ever again. But I’ll see you later, yeah?”

  “Yes, okay. Be careful.” Evan winks at him and then he’s gone.

  * * *

  Sheriff Parker knew the signs when there was trouble about, and a brightly colored klatch of Ellen’s whores Parkerut in the street when they should be airing out the sheets from last night was in the top three. He noticed too their grumbling customers milling around, some of them still fumbling with their buttons and the regular morning citizens looking appropriately shocked. He had some idea of what was up, but it was always good to go in with all the facts. He spotted Lillith in the fold, the lone bit of calm in the flurry of women clutching their shawls and whispering to each other in fear.

  Lillith always put him on edge, he had asked Ellen more than once why she kept the woman on, but had always gotten something vague that added up to the two of them having some history together and how at least under her roof Ellen could keep an eye on her. “Besides, she’s my best earner.” No shock there, Lillith was lovely and refined in a way you didn’t much see in whores outside a big city, but she had flat dead eyes and a smile like a knife wound and Evan had always gotten the impression the only reason she wasn’t regularly murdering her customers for entertainment was that she owed something to Ellen. Evan strolled up with Sam by his side and the flurry of chatter died immediately.

  “Mind tellin’ me if the rumors are true?” Lillith never even bothered trying to charm Evan anymore but she was always good when you needed a cool head about.

  “If you mean is Yuri Jones in there tryin’ to get yer attention by shooting Jim Pritchett in the leg and breaking all the glassware, then yeah…you heard right.”

  “Damn it. Well where’s Ellen?” Lillith arched a bored brow. “Inside trying to keep him from shooting holes in her woodwork.”

  Now Evan’s just seeing red, and Sam doesn’t need to guess twice at his mood as he stalks over to that saloon, his is much the same.

  The doors swing open as Evan makes his entrance. Yuri turns from his perch at the bar to lean back, lazy smile but gun still trained on Ellen who’s scowling black as tar at him but still keeping the whisky flowing. Poor Jim is slouched on the floor moaning and grabbing at his leg, the blood pooling and spreading through the cracks in the wood.

  “He shot me sheriff! That man there shot me over an honest game and you should arrest him! I’m pressing charges, arrest him!”

  Evan doesn’t take his eyes off Yuri and the man flashes his broken yellow teeth.

  “Jim yer the one fool enough to play cards with this bastard in the first place. Can you stand?” The man makes a few strangled noises but doesn’t much try.

  “I don’t think so sheriff, yer gonna hafta carry me.” Sam snorts a bit at that.

  “We was just talkin’ about you Sheriff and Deputy Parker,” Yuri cocks his gun, sensing Ellen’s move for her shotgun under the bar. She freezes. “My daddParkerink you’ve done a real fine job with this here town. Real fine. He was talkin’ about paying you a visit soon, hopes you’ll be more agreeable than yer father was.”

  “You tell that cocksucker Alastair that he sets foot over the town line and I will shoot him dead on the spot. And as for you, I warned you last time about comin’ ‘round here.”

  “Yeah I remember you didn’t say please.” Yuri rubs at his nose as if he can still feel it broken.

  “That was me sayin’ please, now you got three seconds to clear out before I give you a few more holes.”

  Sam’s a rock by his side, but Sam is always the only man he wants with him in a spot like this.

  Yuri doesn’t seem in any hurry to comply and that’s when they hear the shots from outside.

  He brought men.

  The other reason Sam’s the best partner there is, is that Evan didn’t need to turn at the commotion, Sam’s got it covered and is out the door and Yuri wasn’t counting on his distraction falling short. He swings around to aim at Evan, but the sheriff’s too quick, two shots to the head and the man slumps against the bar.

  “Ellen, cover the back.” She’s on it with a nod.

  The shots are coming fast and furious, the screams of the townsfolk dying out as they all scramble for cover. Evan rushes to flatten himself against the wall by the window. He takes a quick peak then ducks down to look out from under the swinging doors on his other side. Sam’s pinned down behind a pile of crates to the left, taking careful aim at the three…four…five men spread out on the other side of the street. One more is face down in the road and as Evan watches another falls under his brother’s deadeye aim.

  “Sam! You get left I get right.” And he doesn’t need to wait for a reply. He bursts through the door, each gun trained on a man and he has them down and choking on their own blood in under five seconds. Sam’s always been more calculating, catching each man in a bead until he can get a perfect shot.

  They take control of the street, covering each other as they seek out any more of Alastair’s goons hiding between the buildings. Rufus comes out of his smith with a skinny one dangling from one hand. The young guy is twisting like a fish on a line, but Rufus is terrifyingly strong and isn’t put off in the least.

  “Found this
one tryin’ to get away. Where you want him?” The kid looks mad enough to spit nails and curses them all to hell, screaming how Alastair was gonna introduce them to the Devil. Evan knocks him out with a punch to the jaw.

  “He’s a loud one, ain’t he?” Sam gives him a disapproving look that might hold some weight if he hadn’t just killed three men. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with the spin of his moral outrage compass. “What?”

  * * *

  Casper had once read one of the lurid wild west stories that were printed with smeary ink on cheap paper and seemed to be a favorite of young boys with dreams of flint hard quick draw artists that ruled the plains with a six shooter and nerves of steel. He’d found it in one of the pews one Sunday afternoon, left by such a boy no doubt and it had made for a pleasant enough diversion but he was realizing now how very much had been left out from its description of those fabled noon day shootouts.

  Namely cleanup.

  With no families to claim them it was left to the able bodied men about town to gather up the dead and get them six feet deep. Casper was still sweating from labor when he panted a few words over the graves. Bobby had a look like he was the height of civility simply for not spitting on them.

  In town everyone had a hand in sweeping glass and scrubbing blood or bringing out food and drinks to those who were while those unable stood around repeating their portion of the story. Jim Pritchett held court just outside the Doc’s office with his bad leg propped on a grain bail and a look of heroic woe for anyone who passed.

  Evan and Sam had left almost immediately after to haul Alastair’s man to the county jail and then search the area for any signs of the gang.