by V. L. Locey
Sadly, I had to return to the ranch. Rising with a groan, I dusted off my seat, slapping my backside and coughing on the dust rolling off my Wranglers. I caught Bishop watching me with a gleam in his eye. Did he want to spank me? A hot shudder of desire coursed through me. Friday night couldn’t come quickly enough. I made a mental note to make a run to town for some ingredients for a dish I’d always loved but hadn’t made in ages. Cooking for one didn’t seem to have the appeal of creating something for a lover to enjoy. Would he be my lover come Friday? I sure hope so.
Maybe a quick run to the Copper Falls pharmacy was in order. Just in case...
Chapter Eight
Copper Falls was a tiny rural town that had one of just about whatever the locals needed.
One bar, one grocery store, one hardware store, one movie theater with one screen, one pharmacy, one package store, and one church. Methodist. Oh, and a feed store as well as an auto parts store. That was it. If you wanted anything that you couldn’t find at our little indie businesses you had to order it online or run into Jackson Hole.
Night was creeping up on the Tetons as I exited the package store with a bottle of pinot noir and a bottle of port tucked into my cloth grocery sack. I’d made a run to the Copper Falls Merry Mart looking for white chicory among several other fresh herbs. They didn’t have it so I’d now have to drive to Jackson Hole and see if the natural food store there had some. Not exactly my planned evening, but it would be worth it. Bishop would love the pan-fried duck breast with caramelized chicory I was going to make. Once I found some damn chicory. Devon used to prepare this dish for me for our anniversary every year. Why I was making it for Bishop after knowing the man for a few weeks was better left alone for now.
Heading down the sidewalk, American flags snapping on every pole outside every store on Main Street, I paused just outside the Copper Falls Hardware Emporium to see Shepherd McCrary leaving the red brick building that housed the sheriff’s department. I shuffled the bag from the drug store from one hand to the other as I mulled over what I’d just witnessed. Had Shep been visiting Mark to relay some information about the poached bones? I contemplated going to see the older lawman and ask but knew he’d toss me out on my ass. Mark Lucerne was not one who would or could be swayed. He was diligent as hell and upright to a fault. So while the urge was strong to be nosy, I knew it would get me nowhere. Instead of being a pester ass, I walked to my truck, tossed my bags of wine, food, and butt sex supplies—to quote Aaron Yellow Horse—into the cab, and made for Jackson Hole with Gordon’s “The Circle is Small” flowing out the open windows.
***
“Is this too much?” I pulled on the sleeves of a black western shirt that I’d worn the last time I’d been to Jackson Hole. I’d found a guy who was willing to do what the old cowboy had asked. If I closed my eyes, I could still smell urinal blocks and desperation. “Nope.” I unbuttoned the shirt and flung it into the hamper. Bane watched me with feline disinterest. Reaching into the closet, I pulled out a denim shirt, softly worn, and slid an arm into it. “How about this?”
The cat yawned then leaped down from the bed, obviously tired of me asking him for fashion advice. Glancing around at my room, I didn’t say I blamed him. Clothes were tossed all over the floor and bed. Right. This was insane. It was dinner. A simple dinner. Well, not simple exactly but just a dinner. With a man. A sexy young man who had invaded my waking thoughts. Sleeping thoughts too if I were being honest.
“Guess we’ll go with denim casual,” I muttered as I tucked in my shirt and searched for a belt on the belt rack. I only had four so that made the choice easier. I closed the closet door and gave my reflection a final inspection. Not too bad for an old coot. I cleaned up nice as they say. Giving the room a tidy because if all went well perhaps Bishop and I would end up here later tonight. God please let that happen.
Once the clothes were tidied and the wrinkles pressed out of the bedspread with my hand, I looked at the clock on the dresser. It was time to go get my date. My stomach fluttered with a heady mix of anticipation and nerves. Imagine a man my age being nervous about a first date. I hurried to put the pinot into the fridge to give it a blush of a chill.
“Fool,” I mumbled as I hustled out the front door, Bane streaking out before it shut to spend a few hours prowling the barns. My truck rolled over with ease, and Gordon flooded the cab. I hit the eject button and replaced that CD with a Harry Chapin one. I enjoyed Harry a great deal, and tonight felt like it warranted a different singer. Different songs, different voice, perhaps a different future? Time would tell.
The lake was calm as I passed it, the cabins setting back in the trees serene. Our turkey hunters had left when the season had ended a few days ago. They’d be back in September along with the deer, elk, bear, and moose hunters. Summer months didn’t see much hunting but we did have some fishermen coming in next week. Generally, the lodges sat empty until fall but this year we had paleontologists to fill them up and keep the rodents and raccoons from setting up house.
Bishop stepped out of his cabin as I pulled up. My heart did a flip-flop. Talk about cleaning up well. Damn the man was mouthwatering. He’d gone casual as well with skinny jeans, soft leather sandals, and a short-sleeved shirt with bright pink daisies. His hair was pulled up into that silly bun with a pink ribbon. He jogged to the truck and climbed in, the rich smell of coconut filling the cab and my senses.
“You have no idea how happy I was to see you pull up in a truck instead of on that horse of yours,” he said, leaning over to give me a fast kiss.
“You haven’t kissed him yet,” I reminded him, our gazes locked as Harry began singing “I Wanna Learn a Love Song” which now that I thought about it, yeah, so did I so I could sing it to Bishop.
He sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “So you’re saying this will be the last date we have unless I put my lips on your horse?”
I should have played along with it, but I couldn’t. “The only way this is the last date is if you say it is.”
He glanced up from buckling his seatbelt. “Oh, well, that was a sharp turn into serious.”
“Sorry. I uhm...tonight is...” He patted my thigh, his touch sending sparks right to my groin.
“Yeah, it is special.” He gave my leg a squeeze. “So, this dude singing isn’t your usual dude.”
I’d be forever grateful for how adroitly he could break an awkward silence.
“No, that’s a different folksy dude,” I replied. With him leading the way through idle chitchat, we talked about our taste in music until we were back inside my cabin. He padded along behind me, mouth running now about the newest surfboard he wanted to buy.
“Of course, now that I’m living in Wyoming, I’m not sure how many surfing opportunities I’ll have,” he reflected as he stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?”
“Do you know how to caramelize chicory?”
“Dude, I don’t even know what chicory is,” he replied with candor. “What kind of fancy feast are you making?”
“Perhaps you can learn something then. Tonight, we’re having duck breasts with caramelized chicory, mashed potatoes, Brussel sprouts roasted in duck fat, and some burnt custards for dessert.”
His blue eyes grew as wide as the dinner plates we’d be eating off of tonight. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you picked up some tricks from your ex. Did you want to be a chef deep down inside?”
“No, not really, but I do enjoy the art of creating a dish then serving it to someone I love,” I said, pausing in the removal of the thawed duck breasts, courtesy of some wildfowl hunters who stayed with us last fall. Our eyes met. He winked. I blushed. I could have stammered around that gaffe, but I just rode right over it. “I’ll start with pan-searing the duck breasts while you pour us some of the pinot noir. It should be just about right.”
He seemed eager to help, and so a few moments later, after a pop of a stubborn wine cork, we were sipping a lovely wine, cooking side-by-side,
and talking about everything and nothing. Bishop was so easy going and lighthearted that my nerves disappeared completely. Perhaps a few glasses of wine over the meal helped. By the time I was transferring the ramekins full of custard from the fridge to the broiler, we had somehow made our way to discussing old lovers.
“...she was really out there. I mean, even for a Cali gal this chick was spacey. You ever date someone who you knew was a space cadet, but they were so hot you kind of overlooked it until you couldn’t overlook it anymore?”
He looked up from rinsing the fresh raspberries we’d adorn the custards with.
“Devon and I met in college. I’ve never really been one to date around.” I slid the cookie tray with the custards under the broiler, hunkered down beside the stove. I left the broiler door cracked so I could keep an eye on dessert. “He always seemed like a perfect fit. And he was. We were quite happy during college. Moved into together during my freshman year. He was a few years older than me, so he had a lovely duplex by the lake and was already working his way through the ranks at his first kitchen job. We had a small ceremony the summer after I moved in, a commitment ceremony, and life was all I had ever imagined.”
“Is that when you decided to adopt a child?”
“We didn’t adopt Kailey. Back then it would have been impossible for two queer men to adopt a child. We had to pretend we were roommates at any of his work functions, although most people saw through it rather quickly.”
“Right. Shit, that sucks.”
I shrugged, wishing like hell we’d have taken a different conversational route. “It was what it was.”
“So how did you end up with a daughter?”
“She was our natural child with a woman we were both close friends with. Marci agreed to carry and have the baby for us. It was all very secretive...the surrogacy and pregnancy. Lies upon lies to employers and governmental agencies, insurance companies, families. There were a few places in Chicago that would do the insemination for LGBT couples, clinics, but it was hush-hush of course.” The tops of the custards were bubbly and brown, so I removed them and placed the sheet pan on top of the stove and sprinkled them with sugar. “Can we talk about something else? I’d really like this night to be about new beginnings and not old nightmares.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry for prodding. I’m just naturally curious and you’re so damn austere that I just want to dig deeper and deeper.”
“I’m not a fossil though. Drop a few of those raspberries on top of the custard.”
He dropped five fat berries onto each bubbling custard then his sight found mine. “I am sorry. Anytime I get that gleam of discovery in my eye, slug me.”
“I’d much rather kiss you into silence.”
“Okay, that works and will be less painful.”
So I did, I kissed him over the custard. His response was heated and instantaneous. Hands roamed, tongues tangled, and the custard grew cold.
“Dessert,” I panted in between long, wet explorations of each other’s mouths. He said something that got lost in the crook of my neck as he feasted on my throat.
“Will come later,” he growled against my flesh. I rolled my hips, grinding my stiff cock against his. His lips roamed up my neck, resting beside my ear as he found my hands and pressed them to the wall he had me jacked up against. Then he leaned in. Hard. A small whimper burbled out of me. “I want to fuck you. Are you happy with that?”
“God yes,” I huffed, my hands flat to the wall, my cock leaking, my balls aching. “Do this...to me in bed.”
He nipped at my ear. I moaned. “You want me to hold you down while I destroy your ass? Is that what you want, Nate?”
Holy fucking hell.
Who would have guessed that the chill surfer bone dude was a foul-mouthed aggressive top? Surely not me but I could not have been happier.
“Say it, Nate.” He bit on my earlobe a little harder. The jolt of pain/pleasure brought me dangerously close to coming in my shorts. “Say what you want me to do to you.”
“Hold me down...while you destroy my ass,” I managed to cough out before his mouth slanted over mine. I kissed him ravenously. He met me stroke for stroke, his tongue plunging into my mouth as I hoped—no prayed—his dick would be plunging into my body soon.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said when we came up for air. He led me to my bedroom, steering me to the bed, where I stood as he slowly began removing the clothes I’d worked so hard to pick out. “You are beautiful.” He ran his palms over my chest. “So hairy. I love that.”
He stripped me bare, complimenting me all the while, touching and tasting each new bit of flesh he bared. He was a thorough lover, that chill attitude of his flowing over into how he made love. There was no rushing, no matter how I yearned for him to toss me down and fuck me. Nope, Bishop was truly all about the joy of discovery.
“Mm, I love the smell of your skin,” he purred as he knelt before me, his nose in the dark patch of curls around my cock. “Manly.” He rubbed his rough chin along the length of me then, his new whiskers short and scratchy. I hissed and bucked, leaving a trail of precum along his cheek. “Such a beautiful cock.” He kissed the head, his tongue darting out to clean off the new droplet beading up. One hand cupped my balls, and the other rested on my bare ass, his fingers pressing on the edge of my hole. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go forward or in reverse. “Your ass wants me to finger it. It’s hungry for it. Tell me to finger your ass, Nate.”
“Yes, fuck yes, finger my ass while you suck my cock!” I think I may have yelled. He didn’t seem to care if I had. He held up another finger for me to suck. I suckled on his fingers until spit ran down his hand.
“You want it bad don’t you?” he asked. I nodded, breathless, his finger still in my mouth. He pulled them out with a pop then hurried to find my hole as he took my cock into his mouth. With a grunt of pleasure, he pushed the tip of his finger into my ass. I moved up then back, lost between the glory of his wet mouth and the two long fingers slipping into me. My hands threaded into his hair, tugging at the bun until the ribbon came undone. He released my balls and caught it as it slithered down his chest. Hot blue eyes met mine. “Tie this around your balls and cock.” I hurried to do as he asked. “Good, yeah, that’s good. Put your foot on the bed.”
No sooner did my toes touch the mattress and he had my balls in his mouth. I clamped around his fingers as he sucked one heavy orb then the other, the ribbon growing sodden when he began going from my cock to my nuts. I cried out when he hooked his fingers, rubbing over that cluster of nerves.
“I’ll come...stop,” I ground out. “I want...you inside me when...I come,” I confessed, my fingers fisted in all that thick, gold hair. He wet his lips, removed his fingers, and stood up. His mouth crashed down on mine. I pulled and yanked at his clothes, mad with want, frenzied with desire. When he was nude, I went to my knees. Precum dripped off his thick cock. I stuck out my tongue to catch it.
“Holy fuck that is hot,” he ground out, his hand coming to my face. With two fingers under my chin, he held me in place until that droplet slowly fell from his prick to my tongue. My eyes rolled back in my head as the taste of him exploded on my taste buds. “Okay, yeah, we need to get you on your knees.”
I never did get to suck him as I longed to. He pulled on me until I was on my feet then his lips found mine again. We fell onto the bed, the soft mattress swallowing us with a sigh. His leg wedged between mine. Hard dick to hard dick we made out, humping each other like dogs, until he pulled back.
“I’ll need that ribbon,” he said, tugging it free then nudging me to my belly. I went willingly, placing my ass in the air and my forearms to the bed. “Mm, shit, Nate, talk about temptation. I don’t know if I should eat your ass or fuck it. What do you think?”
“Ugh,” I brilliantly replied. He chuckled then gave each ass cheek a quick peck. “Fuck me.”
“I’m negative and on PrEP,” he said as he licked a wet path up my spine, his pelvis coming to rest a
gainst my ass.
“Same. Negative that is,” I growled, pushing back against the hot, long cock nudging my balls. “Condoms and lube are in the nightstand.”
His breath hot on the back of my neck made me quiver. He then moved to the side, the drawer slid open, and I closed my eyes. I’d placed the two foot lengths of red silk rope in with the condoms and lubes. I heard Bishop pull in a long, unsteady breath.
“Maybe we don’t need that ribbon after all,” he said, his voice thick as molasses. “Is this for me to use on you? To tie you up with, cowboy?”
“Yes,” I croaked, my throat parched, my lips suddenly dry. “If it’s too weird for you or—”
“Oh, baby, this is perfection is what this is.” He moved around, his cock hitting my hip just as the soft satin rope slithered across my lower back. “Lay on your belly. Good, so good. Give me your arms.” I couldn’t seem to move fast enough. I lay on my belly now, my cock pinned between me and the cover. Shit. I forgot to get a towel. He pulled my arms behind my back, gently knotted the rope around my wrists, and placed my crossed hands on my lower back. “You look so good all trussed up. So trusting. You do trust me, yes?”
He ran his hands up and down my sides. “Yes, I do,” I confessed. It wasn’t an easy admission, but I did trust him. For some bizarre reason, I felt safe sharing this side of me with him. “Don’t make me regret being this open with you.”
