Hard Ride (Clean Slate Ranch)

by A. M. Arthur

  That’s always been the plan. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love.

  They danced two slow numbers together, Derrick incredibly careful of his right foot. Slater memorized the feeling of Derrick in his arms like this, moving gently to romantic music for the last time. When Slater said goodbye to Trish and Trevor later, it was a real goodbye on his part.

  It was late when they dropped Conrad at his house. “You guys wanna come over for dinner some night this week?” he asked as he opened the rear passenger door. “I bet Uncle Derrick needs some Mia time.”

  Slater’s heart skipped, and he glanced over at Derrick. Derrick twisted around to speak to his brother. “We’ll let you know, okay? Not sure of our plans this week.”

  True enough.

  “Sure thing. Later, guys.” Conrad shut the door.

  They sat in silence for a few seconds, before Derrick pulled away from the curb. Neither of them spoke on the drive back to their place. No, Derrick’s place. No one was chilling in the foyer, thank God, because Slater was too depressed to make nice with his friends tonight. Usually, the silences between him and Derrick were easy. Tonight, it was tense. Uncertain.

  Sad.

  Slater finished in the bathroom first and was waiting in bed when Derrick came in. “So we both fulfilled our ends of the arrangement,” Slater said.

  Derrick flinched. “Yeah, we did. Your foot is better and wedding season is over.”

  Ask me to stay.

  Derrick got into bed and turned off the light. “Night, Slater.”

  “Yeah.”

  Slater stared at the ceiling, his thoughts and emotions tumbling all akimbo. Derrick hadn’t asked him to stay, but he also hadn’t asked Slater when he planned to leave. That meant something, right? He didn’t sleep well that night, his dreams full of nebulous, unpleasant things, and he was glad for the first rays of morning light. They had standing plans for brunch with Dez and Morgan at ten, but that was hours from now.

  Derrick was still lightly snoring away, so Slater got up, dressed and went out to the living room. Eyeballed his craft corner. He had no idea what to do with all that stuff when he went back to Clean Slate. He could stack the three tubs in the cabin’s living space but didn’t want to crowd out Hugo without asking first. The table he’d leave here for Derrick; it wouldn’t fit in the small cabin. He’d accumulated some new T-shirts over the past few months, but all his other belongings should still fit in his single suitcase.

  His box of personal items had grown by a few things: his ticket to Rachel’s graduation and event cards for all five weddings. He’d treasure those memories always.

  Slater also wasn’t leaving today, so he settled down to work on a pattern. Eventually, the water in the shower turned on. Derrick emerged smiling and dressed about thirty minutes later, and Slater couldn’t help but return that familiar, handsome smile. “Sleep okay?”

  “Yup,” Slater lied. “I don’t have to ask if you did, judging by the snoring.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  Brunch had been Dez’s idea, and Slater imagined it was because she knew about the arrangement. Morgan drove their quartet to a popular place one neighborhood over, so they had to wait a while for a table. But they did make a fabulous brunch buffet and the wait was worth it. Slater’s stomach was still a bit of a nervous mess, so he stuck to less-greasy things like a waffle and some cut fruit. Derrick used an omelet station to create some sort of piled-high concoction.

  Once they were all seated, Dez asked how the wedding had been. Derrick did most of the talking, his smile almost always in place. The whole thing was so fucking normal Slater wanted to scream that it was all an act. But he didn’t. He nibbled his waffle, ate his fruit, and tried to imprint this meal into his memory for later. In case he never had it again.

  Oh, he’d stay in contact with Dez for sure. She was his best friend besides Derrick, and he treasured their friendship.

  “You okay, dude?” Morgan asked him. “Not hungry?”

  “Not really.” Slater didn’t want to lie and say he’d eaten a bagel before coming, so he left his answer there.

  “Then can I have half before you mangle it to death?” Morgan pointed at the waffle.

  That got a genuine belt of laughter out of Slater. He cut off the portion he’d been picking at and pushed his plate toward Morgan. Morgan speared it with a big grin. He’d already packed away a plate of food, but Morgan was an eater. He could probably do those food challenges if he needed a new hobby to go with his bodybuilding lifestyle.

  Slater had been a bit nervous about coming out of his ankle ordeal with a pooch and weak muscles, but he’d used the free weights and done crunches while in the boot, and he didn’t think he’d gained all that much, despite his fairly steady diet of takeout. Not that Slater was all that vain about his body, but he needed to be in shape to properly muck a horse stall and haul around bales of hay. Once his ankle was up to par, he’d be good as new.

  Morgan and Derrick got up together to hit the buffet a second time. Dez immediately leaned across the booth and whispered, “You obviously didn’t give it to him yet. You look like you’ve been kicked in the nuts. Just tell him.”

  “I can’t. If he wants me to stay, it has to be because it’s what he wants, not him feeling sorry for the sad sap who fell in love with him when he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t want an invitation out of pity.”

  “God, men are so stupid sometimes. Why can’t you two just sit your stubborn asses down and talk to each other?”

  “I’m not even sure what I want yet, Dez. I don’t want to leave, but I’m not sure I want to quit Clean Slate. Maybe breaking up is the best thing for us both. We can figure out what we want.”

  Dez frowned. “I don’t agree with you, but it’s your decision. I won’t meddle.”

  “Thank you.” He loved her even more for not having to be asked to keep this between them. Some things between friends were simply understood.

  Their guys returned and Dez picked a slice of watermelon off Morgan’s piled-high plate. Derrick had rounded out his earlier omelet with hash browns and a bowl of yogurt with granola in it. “When did you start eating healthy on your own?” Slater asked.

  “Since we started eating vegan shit at their place.” Derrick pointed his spoon at Dez and Morgan. “I can make healthy choices on my own, thank you.”

  Good to know.

  Not that Slater had ever been the poster child for healthy eating, but he liked knowing Derrick would take care of himself once Slater was gone.

  The day’s painful attempt at normalcy continued when Morgan suggested they drive into Alameda and check out the Pacific Pinball Museum. It was such an oddball suggestion that Slater couldn’t say no. He’d spent hours in arcades as a teen, trying to master various pinball games with a roll of quarters in his pocket. Some of the arcades had given away tickets for points scored, but Slater always gave those away. For him, it wasn’t about collecting enough tickets for a cheap pair of knockoff sunglasses at the trade-in counter. It was beating the game.

  The museum was pretty cool. Brightly painted murals on the walls perfectly accented a huge variety of working machines, from the 1940s to present day, and you could even play on them free all day with the price of admission. There were other arcade games like Pac-Man as well as jukeboxes, and even a small gift shop.

  Slater had a blast playing some of the older, restored games he’d never seen before. Derrick mostly watched, but he did hover close, while Dez and Morgan wandered around to different machines. Slater felt like a teenager again, young for the first time since that pregnancy test came back positive, and it was the best feeling in the world.

  One last amazing date with my boyfriend.

  Even that thought didn’t put a damper on Slater’s good mood over the arcade trip, and he played until he’d definitely been on his ankle too long. He found a spot to rest s
o the others didn’t have to quit playing, until Dez suggested they go get coffee. Slater didn’t have much use for those fancy drinks but let Dez order him an iced soy drink with too many words in its name that was actually pretty good.

  Not that Slater was ever going to ask Patrice to keep soy milk in the guesthouse refrigerator—he’d get laughed right out of the kitchen by his fellow horsemen—but maybe he could keep a small carton in his cabin’s mini-fridge. He never used to keep much in there besides the occasional six-pack and string cheese, and Hugo didn’t stock a lot of snacks.

  His foot was sore from the day’s activity by the time they got home. Derrick ordered him to the futon, pushed over the green stool, and then fetched Slater an ice pack—just like he used to during those first few weeks post-surgery.

  “Thank you,” Slater said. “For the ice pack and for today. It was a lot of fun.”

  “It was all Morgan and Dez, but you’re welcome. I had a great time. That arcade museum was nuts.”

  “I don’t know how I never knew that was there, but I also never spent a lot of time exploring the Bay Area. The other guys like the clubs, but it was never my scene, so I had no real reason to drive that far from Garrett every weekend.”

  Derrick’s hands were resting on his thighs, and the fingers of both curled slightly at Slater’s words. “Yeah. Right.”

  “Again, not knocking your old clubbing habits or any future clubbing you’ll do.”

  “Just not your thing.”

  “Exactly.” For some reason, Slater got the impression they weren’t just talking about clubbing specifically anymore.

  “You know, you can stay as long as you want, right?”

  “I know. Thank you.” But do you want me to stay?

  Slater was so turned around he wasn’t sure what to say, so he let his body say it for him again. If this was their last night, it sure as hell was going to be a memorable one. He scooted closer, body angled toward Derrick, who watched him with open curiosity and barely contained desire. Positive this was the right thing, Slater curled his left hand around the back of Derrick’s neck and urged him forward. Closed his eyes and brushed his lips over Derrick’s. Derrick inhaled a sharp breath, followed by a low moan that sent arousal zinging down Slater’s spine.

  Derrick’s hot mouth crashed over his, and Slater gave in. He hadn’t been properly kissed in so long he’d nearly forgotten how, but Derrick showed him again. Derrick made love to his mouth in small nips and sips, his tongue gently probing Slater’s teeth and lips, until Slater allowed him inside. Derrick hauled Slater forward, practically onto his lap and kissed him harder, deeper. His entire body ached with need for this man. To share one more rare thing with him.

  Slater reluctantly broke their first, dazzling kiss and held Derrick’s dark gaze. “I want you to make love to me tonight, Derrick. I want you inside me.”

  * * *

  Derrick nearly fell right off the futon from Slater’s two statements. His brain was already short-circuiting from the sensation overload that was kissing Slater, so he couldn’t have heard that right. “You want what?”

  “Please. I trust you implicitly, Derrick. I want this so badly.” Slater’s eyes burned with need and Derrick saw no lie. Only a man giving in to lust and taking steps Derrick had been jerking off to for months. It wouldn’t be a hard, sweaty fuck on gym mats.

  “Yes. I’ll make love to you, Slater.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  Derrick chuckled, then kissed him gently. “You’re absolutely sure? Have you bottomed before?”

  “No. Never met someone I trusted enough to go there. Until you.”

  Until you.

  Two little words that meant the world to Derrick. He couldn’t contain the impulse to hug Slater tight, and Slater hugged him back. And because kissing was now on the table, Derrick made love to his mouth again while they slowly peeled away layers of clothes. Shoes and socks. T-shirts and shorts. By some silent agreement, they left their underwear on for now, and simply played. Kissed and licked and teased. Fingers stroked bare skin, tweaked nipples, and memorized dips and valleys of muscles.

  Eventually, the futon was too small for the scope of their lovemaking, so they went into the bedroom. Then the underwear came off. Derrick got a condom and lube and put them on a pillow. Slater eyed the condom, seeming as nervous as he was eager to do this. To share this experience with Derrick.

  No matter what happened tomorrow, they would always have this moment.

  And Derrick planned to make it last. Make it so good Slater wouldn’t want to leave. “Hands and knees, middle of the bed.”

  Slater complied, showing off a taut, muscled ass Derrick wanted to bite all over. It was a new view he stood back and enjoyed a beat before climbing onto the bed behind Slater. “You ever been rimmed, cowboy?”

  “It’s not really my thing. Are you sure you want to—holy shit.”

  Derrick hadn’t let him finish answering the question before he pulled Slater’s cheeks apart and licked at his hole. This wasn’t something he did often, so Derrick wanted to make it last. And make Slater fall apart for him. He listened to the noises and words Slater dropped as he savored the man’s entrance with both fingers and his tongue. The scent and taste made Derrick harder and he resisted stroking himself. This was about pleasing Slater.

  Slater bucked and jerked his hips, fingers clawed at the sheet, and a fine sheen of perspiration dotted his back. Derrick snagged the lube with his right hand while his left index finger rubbed at the wet muscle. Snapped the cap and drizzled lube over Slater’s entrance. Pushed it slowly inside while Slater panted and moaned.

  “You doing okay?” Derrick asked.

  “Great, oh, fuck. Go slow.”

  “I’ve got you, babe. Relax and feel it.”

  “Trust me, Tiger, I fucking feel it.” The laughter prompted Derrick to nudge in deeper. A gentle glide so Slater could adapt to the new sensations battering his body from his most sensitive places.

  Derrick squeezed Slater’s balls, then the root of his cock. “It’s okay if you lose this during penetration. Not all guys can keep it up.”

  “I know. More.”

  Derrick gave him more but took his time, using his thumb instead of his index. Giving Slater a little more stretch, more sensation. “You ever finger yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Ever had a prostate massage?”

  Slater glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes the instant Derrick curled his thumb down. Pressed on Slater’s gland. Slater threw back his head and moaned, over and over, and Derrick worked his prostate. He tormented Slater until a line of clear fluid oozed from the tip of his straining cock.

  “You’re going to make me come,” Slater warned. Derrick pulled out so Slater didn’t blast off before the main event, and he wasn’t prepared for the way Slater rolled and lunged, knocking Derrick over onto his back. Derrick stilled and let Slater take over, incredibly curious what the older man would do.

  Slater adjusted until he was kneeling over Derrick’s groin, knees on either side of his hips, and he peered down like Derrick was an ice cream sundae he wasn’t sure how to attack first. The cherry? The whipped cream? Dig right in and get a taste of it all? He lazily jacked Derrick’s dick as he pondered his next move.

  “Whatever you want,” Derrick said.

  Those words seemed to unstick Slater’s gears. He reached for the condom and rolled it down Derrick’s length, then smeared on lube. Derrick put a steadying hand on his hip. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Slater inched his knees forward to line up his hole with Derrick’s dick, which he held tight at the base. “I need you in me, Tiger. Now.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Derrick gripped both of Slater’s hips to help balance him as Slater lowered himself with agonizing slowness. Pressure against his cockhead. So tight and ho
t, and holy shit he wasn’t going to go in. Up and down, Slater worked his body, his face a study of serenity and lust. And of absolute trust. This was often the best position for first-timers, so they could control the penetration, but a flash of pain in Slater’s eyes had Derrick moving him up and off, so they were both sitting on the bed.

  “Sorry, it wasn’t my ass,” Slater said. “My ankle didn’t like that position.”

  “Okay. Well, we can try doggie-style if you keep your ankle bent the right way.”

  “Can we try on our sides?”

  “Definitely.” Derrick took his mouth’s proximity and kissed Slater again, loving that simple thing so much. “I just want you to feel good.”

  “It did feel good. Intense but good.”

  “I’m glad.” So glad to give his boyfriend the pleasure he desired.

  They rolled onto their right sides and Derrick spooned up behind Slater. Lifted Slater’s left leg up and draped it around Derrick’s legs, opening Slater up to him. Giving Derrick more room to move. He lined up again and pushed. Slater bore against him, and again, the intensity of it worried Derrick he hadn’t stretched Slater enough. And then his cockhead popped inside on a blast of pleasure, and Slater let out an impressive string of cuss words.

  “Holy fucking hell, wow,” Slater panted. “Oh, God, more. I think.”

  “Take a second, cowboy, not everyone rides fast the first time.”

  Slater snorted and reached back to pinch Derrick’s ass. “Said like a true Clean Slate horseman.”

  “You trying to get me to apply for a job there?”

  “Well, the horse rescue is nonprofit and that’s your specialty, but what I’d really like right now is more of your dick in me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Inch by torturous inch, Derrick’s cock disappeared inside Slater’s ass. He’d pull back before pressing in, teasing Slater’s entrance, revving him up for when Derrick was ready to go faster. This wasn’t going to be a fast, hard fuck. Oh, no, Derrick planned to take his time and truly make love to Slater’s body.