by Sean Michael
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.” One of them needed to sleep.
“You didn't.” Another kiss brushed his skin, fingers trembling a little.
He squeezed Trey tight, swallowing. “I'm sorry.”
“For what, Yankee? You're going to be fine. I'm going to bring you home tomorrow night and let your mom spoil you rotten.”
He chuckled. “She's been wanting to meet you. And ... I'm sorry for putting you through this. For putting us through this.”
“It happens. It's not like you got it on purpose.” Trey stroked his thigh, his sac, his shaft. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know. I know.” His legs parted automatically, shaft filling just a little at the gentle, loving touches.
“Did the doc say how long I'll have to wait before I can do this again? After, I mean?” Trey took his cock in hand, thumb rubbing gently.
“Depends on whether they start radiation treatments right away. Not long if it's not cancer—it's just a few snips.” He half laughed. Just a few snips and they took away half his manhood.
“If it is?” That warm hand cupped his nuts, holding them gently.
“Depends how bad the skin gets. Doc said most patients can resume normal activity pretty quickly, but they don't produce sperm until some months after the treatment. Skin might get sore and the side effects sound less than sexy. I think it's more a mental thing than physical.” The last thing you wanted to contemplate when you had the runs was fucking.
“Well, I'll have to be in charge of applying lotion.”
He chuckled. “Yeah? You think that's a task you're suited to?” He liked the sound of that. Liked it a lot.
“I'll take any task that involves my hands making your body feel good, Yankee.”
“You're too good to me, Cowboy.” He turned Trey's face to meet his, closing their mouths together in a kiss. Trey wrapped those arms around him, holding him close, fingers moving over his spine. The kiss was slow and sweet and full of promises. Trey's eyes were dark, focused. He could see himself in them. He traced Trey's cheek and his ear, fingers sliding over the short hair. He wanted to touch and touch and never have to stop. “I love you.”
Trey nodded. “I love you, Yankee. Gonna take care of you, I promise.” The low voice broke a little, was husky and rough.
Oh man, he wanted more than anything not to be putting Trey through this. It wasn't fair; Trey was so good and worked so hard. “With a promise like that there's no way I can do anything but come through it with flying colors.”
Trey nodded. “I'm holding you to that, Russ.”
“Me, too.” Swallowing back a sob, he held on as tight as he could.
“Sh. We're going to be okay. You're going to be fine and holding me when we're eighty.”
He nodded. “Grumpy old men.”
“You'll have to trim my ear hair for me.” Trey winked, chuckled. That startled an honest laugh out of him. “Nose hairs, too. You wait ‘til you meet my nono. He's got these scary, white tentacle doolies.”
He giggled. “Tentacle doolies?”
Trey nodded. “Nana clips them with this thing that looks like a tiny car lighter. Scary.”
“Oh man.” He kept laughing. “Maybe by the time we're eighty they'll have something a little less scary.”
“I'm not letting you take a laser to my nose hairs, Yankee.” God, Trey made him laugh.
“Oh sure—they can laser my balls but you won't let me trim a few nose hairs.” He rolled Trey over, landing on top of him. “And I thought cowboys played fair.”
Trey's hands landed on his ass. “Hey, now! I'm not asking you to let me laser it. I just want to love on you.”
“You can love on me anytime, cowboy. Anytime.”
“All the time.” His ass was squeezed. “I promise.”
He bent, kissing Trey with his whole heart. Trey moaned, arching up against him, tongue sliding into his lips.
“Love you,” he murmured, losing himself in the kiss.
“I know.” Trey's fingers tangled in his hair. “You want to make love to me? You want to just snuggle?”
“I want to touch you and be touched and just be us one last time before everything changes.”
“Anything you need.” Trey's legs cradled him, lips taking slow, soft kisses.
“Need you. You Trey—you're all I need.” Trey nodded, hips rocking up, sliding their cocks together, the motion slow and easy, Trey warm and loving beneath him. His eyes were locked onto Trey's, watching the love in them, drowning happily in it. He could see everything—all the love, the need, the care. Even the fear and worry and sorrow was evident, present.
He moved slowly, surely, rocking their bodies together, just watching Trey's eyes, holding his cowboy's gaze. Trey brought their lips together, just sharing their breath, those dark eyes so close. Moaning into Trey's mouth, he moved a little faster, breath catching as their cocks rubbed together. Trey's hands helped him move, warm and sure on his ass.
Yeah, this was worth living for, worth waking up for every morning.
His eyes half closed as shivers started to slide up his spine, pleasure lodging in his balls.
“Don't close your eyes. Want all of you, want to see.” Trey's voice was so raw, so needy.
“Oh, man.” He groaned. “The things you say.”
He kept his eyes open though, even as it got intense, as they moved together harder and harder.
“Love you, Russ. I do.” Trey was panting, hips jerking.
“Me, too.” He gasped, lightning shooting up his spine. “Love you! Trey!”
With a shout, he came.
“So fine...” Trey groaned, watching him while the aftershocks moved through him, hands holding tight.
“Finer than frog hair,” he whispered, taking those soft kisses he loved so much.
Trey nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, sir. Best thing I've ever known.”
“No. That would be you, Trey.” He kissed Trey again, soft and deep and with everything he was.
The alarm clock separated their lips, Trey fingers tightening for a heartbeat. “Time to face the day, Yankee.”
He nodded, kissing Trey just as hard as he could. “With you in my corner I can face anything.”
“I'll be there the whole time. No matter what.” Trey popped his ass. “Now. Up. I need to feed the critters and get some stuff taken care of before we go.”
“I'll help. I'm not an invalid yet.” He gave Trey another hard kiss and got up, as ready to face this as he was ever going to be.
Chapter 15
He left Russ at the Baptist Cancer Center at 8:30 and headed north to fetch Russ’ folks. Their plane got in at 9 and he wasn't fighting the traffic and, if he was blinking hard and working to keep tears from falling, well the fucking sun was bright on 281, wasn't it? And he'd been fighting it all fucking morning, hadn't he?
Trey pulled over and got himself a cup of coffee and a honey bun and a pack of Kleenexes and some change for parking, taking a minute just to breathe, just to be by himself and quiet and still. Let himself be scared and stupid and panicky because not only was his lover in the hospital, but he was going—by himself—to pick up two people who'd just lost their daughter and now...
And he'd not even hardly done more than said hi on the phone. What the fuck was he supposed to say to them? “Hi, I'm your boy's lover. He's fixin’ to lose a ball and prob'ly has cancer and I don't know what to do. I don't know dick.”
Yeah, that would work. Not.
He said himself a little prayer—for strength and faith and hope and that the Good Lord looked out for guys like him—and then he pulled back out onto the highway. Okay. He could do this. He could. He would. He had to.
The parking wasn't too bad and he was only about five minutes late getting in, which worked because the plane had just landed and he didn't have time to fret. Much. It was another ten minutes before people started coming out the gate and he guessed he would have recognized Russ’ folks even if he hadn't been
expecting them. Russ looked more like his mother in the face, but he obviously inherited his body shape from his father. They wore jackets and only had one bag with them. Their eyes were worried as they looked around the airport.
“Ma'am? Mr. and Mrs. Johnson?” He took off his hat and held out his hand, wiping it on his jeans first. “I'm Trey. Brandon Latrie, I mean.”
“Oh, Brandon.” Russ’ mom looked like she'd been crying pretty good already, looked like she was going to start up again, too.
Russ’ father shook his hand firmly. “You can call me Bill, son.”
“And I'm Dotty. I mean, we're practically family aren't we?” Russ’ mom wrapped her arms around him, sniffling hard.
He hugged her good and tight, nodding at Russ’ daddy. “I reckon we are, ma'am. Y'all'd best come on. I left him to get the paperwork started and all, but I promised we'd be there before ... Before things started.”
“Is it cancer then?” asked Russ’ father.
“Bill!”
“I want to know, Dotty. Pretending it's not happening won't make it go away.”
He met Bill's eyes. “We won't know ‘til they biopsy the testicle, but the two docs were pretty sure. Sure enough to decide to test a few lymph nodes and schedule the first treatment tomorrow. Still, they've been wrong.” Everybody's been wrong before.
“Russ said something about the survival rate being really good with this kind of cancer?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir. More than 95%, if he does the radiation and it hasn't spread. The doctor says he's healthy and young and ought to be good. He'll be done with the treatment by New Years.”
“Hell of a Christmas present—to have him healthy.” Bill cleared his throat and looked stern, blinking quickly for a moment.
“ Yes, sir.” Trey nodded again, heart just pounding in his chest. “We'd best go. It's a fifteen minute drive. Y'all have baggage?” He just wanted this over. Done. He wanted Russ home in bed and safe. Damn it.
“No, this is it,” Bill answered, indicating the large bag on wheels he was pulling. “I only got the one week compassionate leave. We'd like to help out more, but...”
“If Russ is really badly off I can stay,” Dotty interrupted as they followed him out of the building. “I can be here for my boy.”
“They say that he'll be home Wednesday at the latest. I'm hoping it'll go easy.” He led them to the truck, taking the bags from Mr. Johnson and putting them in the bed.
“Oh, a truck.” Dotty looked rather amazed. “Are you sure the bag won't fly out of there on the highway?”
“Quit your fussing, mother—the bags are safe as houses.”
“Well, how do you know? You've never driven a truck like this before.”
“Physics.”
Dotty rolled her eyes at Bill.
“I'll put the hard top on, ma'am. It'll be fine. I swear it.” He opened the doors, let them sort out who was in the backseat and who was in the front, before fastening the hardtop down. When he climbed on in, Dotty was sitting in the back, Russ’ father in the front with him. They both looked tired and stressed, a little white around the mouth. He guessed he knew how they felt.
“Russ speaks very highly of you,” Bill told him as he maneuvered his way out of the parking lot.
“Thank you, sir. He's a good man. I'm mighty proud of him.” He took a deep breath and headed to pay for parking. “He's glad y'all could come out. We just wish it was different circumstances.”
“Yeah. So he really does all that cowboy stuff like ride and feed cattle and whatnot?”
Dotty actually giggled from the backseat. “Does he wear cowboy boots and a cowboy hat?”
“He owns his own little filly, yes sir. Name's Chocolate. I bought him some boots a while back, to save his feet, and he has a hat for going out. Mainly he likes a gimme cap, though. He's a good ranch hand, learns quick, likes the work.”
“He's always been a good boy. Never knew what he wanted out of life though—we didn't think he was ever going to settle down.”
“I just wish he hadn't chosen a place so far from home.”
“Mother.”
“I'm sorry. It's just with Ginny gone, well. Russ is my only baby now isn't he?”
“The idea is to let them go, Dorothy.”
“I know that, William.” The argument sounded well-worn.
“I'm sorry, son, we don't mean to air our dirty laundry. I guess we're all a little tense.”
He grinned, bobbed his head. “It's okay. My folks fuss on me being far off and I'm only a ninety minute drive.”
“What does your father do, Brandon?”
“He's a goat farmer. Has about five thousand head of Boer goats and a few hundred Nubians. They've got some sheep and cattle, too, but he's mostly about the goats.” He pointed to a picture of his folks hanging in plastic on the rear view mirror, his Nano and Nana on the other side. “That's them.”
“Oh, what a lovely family,” murmured Dotty from the back. “I didn't realize goat meat was that popular.”
“I imagine they sell the milk and wool off them, Mother.”
“Actually, the Boers are all for meat. We export a huge amount of cabrito down south and overseas. The Nubians are milked, though. Mamma likes to sell to the organic stores.” He grinned and nodded to the picture of his grandparents. “Those are Papi's folks. They live in San Antonio now. I reckon they'll come out today, bring some supper, say hi to Russ.”
Dotty gave Bill a “ha, I was right” look and then turned back to him. “All of Russell's grandparents have passed on. And he's only one aunt left. I guess both our lines will die out with him.” There just wasn't anything to say to that, was there? So he didn't, just nodded and kept driving. “Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean. I.”
Bill made a soothing noise. “It's all right, Mother.”
“So you say we'll be able to see him before he goes in?” Dotty's smile was just a little too wide, her eyes wet with unshed tears.
Trey gave her a quick smile. “Yes, ma'am. I promised your boy I'd have you there. His surgery's scheduled for 11 a.m., so he'll be grumpy and dozy, but you'll see him.”
“You're assuming that's not how we're used to him.” Bill gave him a wink.
Oh, that made him laugh, a real laugh, down deep in his belly. “Oh, now. He does pretty good at home, so long as he gets his food on time and no one asks him to do math before his breakfast.”
“You mean you can ask him non-math related questions before noon? Our boy is growing up.”
He laughed again, nodding. “Yes, sir. He can even feed and manage to haul hay that early. I've seen it myself.”
“Well it really must be love then,” put in Dotty.
“Yes, ma'am. I reckon it is.” His cheeks heated and he pulled into the hospital parking lot, taking a ticket to put in his window.
Dotty's hand pet his shoulder and he could hear her taking a deep breath. “Well I guess we'd better go see him.”
“Yeah. He'll be looking for us.” He slid out and locked up, grabbing Russ’ overnight bag. “His room's on the third floor, but the surgery's on two. I reckon he'll be one place or the other.” Bill and Dotty nodded, holding hands as they followed him in. They found Russ in his room, IV attached, flipping channels. “Hey, Yankee. I brought you visitors.”
Russ’ face lit up. “Trey! Oh man, Mom, Dad. Hey.”
Dotty went straight to her son, hugging and crying and fussing. He made himself busy with putting the bag away and moving the flowers that Mr. G and Mamma and Daddy had sent so that they hid the big damned bottle of whiskey from ... He looked at the card. Marty. Jackass.
“Now, now, let the boy breathe, Mother.”
“It's alright, Dad.”
“You don't look sick.”
“No, I don't feel sick. Apparently that's going to change.” Russ chuckled awkwardly.
Trey swallowed hard, kept wandering, getting Mrs. Johnson a chair, then Mr. Johnson one.
“Trey? Come sit by me?” Russ had his ha
nd held out.
He couldn't resist that, now could he? He settled on the bed beside his lover, twining their fingers. “How's it going, Yankee? Y'okay?”
Russ nodded, smiling as his mom took his other hand. “Nervous.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I reckon. Soon I'll have you back home.” Not soon enough, but soon.
“Doc says tomorrow unless there's complications.” Russ bit his lip and squeezed his hand.
“Won't be any. You'll have the surgery, the CT scan, then we'll sit and wait and watch you be goofy on pain meds.” He squeezed back, holding on tight. “Nono and Nana said they were coming by this evening to check on you.”
“Oh, is Nana bringing food?”
Dotty chuckled. “I take it your grandmother is a good cook, Brandon?”
He nodded over, smiling wide. “Yes, ma'am. She's amazing. And she's bringing pralines and empanadas tonight. Tamales tomorrow for us to take home with us.”
“Pralines. Mmm...” Russ licked his lips and made to die for noises. “I'm allowed to eat tonight, right? I can't remember what the nurse said.”
Trey nodded. “Yep. You can eat tonight and then, depending on whether ... on how you're feeling tomorrow, you can eat whatever you feel like.”
Russ nodded and the hold on his hand got a little tighter. “Nurse said the side-effects aren't too bad to start—that they get worse the more you have the treatment.”
Dotty started to fuss with Russ’ pillows and covers, moving and fluffing and fixing.
“The docs said they'll give you good drugs for your stomach, yeah? And we'll get you lots of rest and good food.” His thumb stroked the back of Russ’ hand.
“I should be able to put a few hours of work in—I figure if I schedule the appointments for the late afternoon I can get in a full day most of the time.”
“You aren't going to work, Russ? Surely you can take the time off?”
Russ shook his head. “Trey can't run the ranch by himself, Mom. I've done research, I should be able to at least put in half days.”
“He'll get all the rest he needs, ma'am. I swear.”
“Y'all don't have to baby me.” Russ emphasized the ‘y'all', which made Dotty giggle softly.
