by Drew Hunt
Someone sniggered from the bed.
“And what will you two be doing while we’re out?” Colin asked.
This led to increased giggling. Martin could well imagine what the two newly declared lovers were about to do, and if they didn’t leave soon he and Colin would have front row seats.
“I think we better leave ’em to it,” Colin said.
“What about saddling the horse?” Martin’s words were silenced by another kiss.
“All taken care of. Nance should be in the stable now doing just that.”
“You’ve planned all this out, haven’t you?” Martin returned the kiss.
“Anything to make my husband’s Australian Christmas special.”
Martin’s face hurt he was smiling so widely. Then he remembered. “You two haven’t opened our gifts yet.”
Colin took Martin’s hand and began to lead him out of the bedroom. “I think they’ve got other things on their minds just now.”
“Too right,” Bruce said.
Martin made sure the bedroom door was firmly closed before he and Colin walked down the hallway.
* * * *
Even though it was the height of summer down under, and he’d very quickly learned summers in Australia were much hotter and dryer than those back home, Colin was glad to see that for once there were a few puffy clouds and the sun wasn’t beating down on them. Though he suspected as the day wore on the temperatures would rise significantly.
He stretched out on the picnic blanket, rested his head on the saddle, and laid his new hat on his chest. A quick glance over at Dottie reassured him the mare was happy grazing.
Nance had been amazing. Or “a real bottler” as Martin had said as he’d given the housekeeper a hug when she’d told them she’d packed the saddle bags with food.
Colin had confessed his concern the horse would throw them off.
Nance had laughed, and thanks to the medicine the doctor had put her on the resultant cough hadn’t been as severe. “Dottie’s the gentlest ole nag I’ve ever seen, so no worries about her chucking you off.”
Martin had then expressed his concern that they’d get lost, but Nance had assured him Dottie knew every square metre of the station and all they had to tell her was “go home, girl,” and she’d take them.
The ride to their picnic spot had been slow and gentle. Dottie’s gait was sure and steady, if not overly smooth. Martin had sat behind Colin and hadn’t needed telling twice to hold on.
It was a good thing Dottie had known what she was doing because Colin forgot what little horse riding knowledge he had when Martin’s hands had started to wander. And if that hadn’t been enough, his husband’s frequent suggestive comments—murmured under the brim of his cowboy hat—had had Colin ready to stop Dottie and fuck Martin up against the closest tree.
“What you thinking about?”
The question brought Colin back to the present. He blushed; no way could he tell Martin what he’d been thinking. But why couldn’t he? They were married, or as close to as the UK Government allowed, and they were in the middle of nowhere, miles—or as it was Australia—kilometres from anywhere.
“I was thinking about how sexy you are, how much I love you.” Okay, so it wasn’t the exact truth, but was close enough.
Martin laughed. “I might be many things, but I’m not sexy.
Colin sighed. He could have put money on Martin saying that. “I love you, I know you realise that.”
Martin turned onto his left side to face Colin and began to lazily run a hand along Colin’s right arm.
“I do. And I’m grateful every day for it.” Smiling, Martin continued, “But speaking of sexy, that’s you. This shirt for example, it’s nice, but on you it’s so…sexy.”
“Knew you’d like it. Got snaps on the front, too.”
Martin’s fingers ghosted across Colin’s chest until they encountered one of the snaps. Deftly Martin undid it and began to draw patterns on Colin’s naked skin.
“You approve of your present, then?” Colin asked. “I worried it was, uh, conceited.”
“It’s perfect because it's you or a part of you. Back during our first Christmas you gave me yourself. This,” Martin ran his hand up Colin’s chest, found the hat and picked it up, “is just an extension of that gift. I know it’s cheesy, but you’re a gift that just keeps on giving.”
The two men spent some time kissing, Colin cradling his lover, wrapping him in his strength. He caught a glimpse of his wristband. What did Martin say it said? Colin, big, strong, and Martin’s. Colin would do his utmost to remain big and strong for his Martin.
Martin’s stomach rumbled. Colin tickled it. “Is my man hungry?” He looked over at the foil-wrapped packages Nance had given them before they had set out, telling them the special breakfast was part of her Christmas present to them.
Martin grinned. His hand moved downward and cupped Colin’s rising erection through the denim. “I’m hungry for this. It’s one-hundred percent prime cowboy meat.”
Colin groaned. His new Wranglers didn’t leave much room for expansion.
Martin seemed to sense this and began to unbutton the fly. Colin hadn’t realised just how adept his husband was at getting a man out of his clothes.
“But we best not leave him out in the sun too long, otherwise he’ll burn,” Martin said before lowering his mouth onto Colin’s straining dick.
“Oh, Jesus,” Colin gasped as Martin’s velvet blender went to work.
Colin watched as Martin used his hands to explore the body beneath him. The fingers of Martin’s left hand traced the design on Colin’s belt buckle while his right ran up and down Colin’s thighs. Although it was something of an unusual gift to give someone, Colin was relieved his choice had been so well received.
Colin was getting close to coming when Martin pulled off with an audible pop.
“Huh? Why’d you stop?”
“Because I want my cowboy to fuck me silly.”
“Okay.” Colin had no argument with that. He noted that Martin had said “fuck’ rather than ‘make love’ so was aware his man was after a hard pounding rather than a more gentle taking.
However, as he watched Martin undo his belt and lower his trousers, Colin decided there was no reason he couldn’t give his husband both. He stood and began to undress.
“What’re you doing?” Martin asked.
“Uh, taking my clothes off?”
Martin grabbed him. “Don’t you dare. Those cowboy clothes are my present, so I want you to wear them when you fuck me.”
Colin kissed him. “You kinky bugger.”
Martin shook his head. “You know me too well.”
“Shit,” Colin said a minute later. “I didn’t bring any lube.”
Martin smiled and reached for his trousers that he’d folded neatly on the blanket. “I wasn’t in the boy scouts, but I’m always prepared.” He pulled a sachet of lube from the front pocket.
“You think of everything,” Colin said, taking the packet.
“I try.” Martin’s smile broadened.
Colin lifted Dottie’s saddle into the centre of the blanket.
“And you said I was the kinky one,” Martin said when Colin had him lie sideways over the saddle.
Colin sighed in mock resignation. “It’s a hardship, but I like to indulge my man’s kinks. Now spread those legs and let me at that cute arse of yours.”
Complying, Martin said, “You say the most romantic things.”
Colin knelt between Martin’s legs, kissed each one of his lover’s round perfect arse cheeks and then dove in for the main prize.
Martin groaned, letting Colin know he was doing a good job. Then Martin said, “Uh, Colin?”
Colin lifted his face. “Yeah?”
“Put this on.” Martin held the straw cowboy hat in the air.
“Huh?” What the hell did it matter? Even if Martin could see, he was facing away from him anyway.
Martin waved the hat.
C
olin grumbled, but took the hat, stuck it on his head and got back to work.
“That’s better. I can feel the brim rubbing the top of my bum.”
Colin felt bad for his earlier thoughts. He knew touch was a big thing for Martin. He was sensitive to it, much more than a sighted person. Knowing this, Colin pushed up the front of his hat and started to kiss up Martin’s spine, making sure the dangling ends of his shoestring tie were in constant contact with Martin’s skin.
“Oh, I can feel that.”
“Feel this?” Colin rubbed his leather bracelet against Martin’s leg. “Big, strong, and yours.”
“Yeah.”
Colin couldn’t wait any longer, he needed inside Martin’s hole. Snatching up the little packet of lube he made sure he crinkled it, then made a production out of tearing the thing open with his teeth and spitting out the bit of plastic.
“Gonna slick you up then ride you back to the corral.”
Martin laughed.
Okay, so maybe Colin was overdoing it, and did Aussies have corrals or did they call them something else? Paddocks maybe? But that didn’t have the same ring to it somehow.
“I’m ready,” Martin said a couple of minutes later when Colin had gotten two fingers inside of him and had started to widen them apart.
“Not yet.”
Colin wanted to get three fingers in there. He intended to ride his man hard. He quashed the little voice inside of him that added, and put him away wet. Heck, maybe he was just as kinky as his husband.
Martin groaned. “Col, please.”
Finding Martin’s prostate, Colin gave it a rub. Martin jumped. “Got something bigger that’ll keep this little button happy.”
“Yeah, give it to me. Want your big cowboy dick.”
Colin shook his head; Martin was really getting into this Western stuff. Was it still called Western in Australia? “Want this cowboy to ride his horse?”
“Yeah, saddle up and start riding.”
Colin laughed out loud, this was just too silly, but he knew his man was really getting off on it.
Colin slid in with one long, slow push, making sure his man could feel the rough denim that surrounded the base of his dick.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Colin started slowly, he wanted to last a long time, but feared Martin’s filthy talk would undo him way too soon. As he built up a head of steam Colin couldn’t help wonder at his husband’s language; he bet none of the doctors and nurses at the surgery would guess that his man had such a dirty mouth.
The saddle beneath them creaked and Colin hoped this added to the sensory picture for Martin.
“Want to turn over?” Colin asked after a while; he guessed his husband might like to feel up his cowboy as he was taken.
“Please.”
Reluctantly they had to part to achieve this.
Martin lay on his back, his bum resting sideways on the saddle which quite usefully brought his hole to the perfect height for Colin’s dick.
“Yeah, ride me, cowboy!” Martin yelled.
Colin shook his head. “You’ve been reading too many of those gay Western stories.”
“Shut up and just fuck me.”
Colin did just that, switching into high gear and pounding Martin’s arse for all he was worth, while Martin’s hands rubbed up and down Colin’s straining arms and bulging chest.
“So sexy. Thank you,” Martin kept repeating.
Needing a rest, Colin stopped pumping, leaned forward and captured Martin’s lips with his. Despite the frantic actions of a few moments earlier, the kiss was long and slow.
Colin’s hat fell off, but Martin didn’t seem to notice.
“Ready to be ridden back to the stable?” Colin asked once their kiss ended.
“You got it. Ride ’em, cowboy!” Martin said, smacking Colin’s hip.
* * * *
Colin woke from a doze and swatted at a fly buzzing somewhere above his face. Closing his eyes again he heard the distant bleating of sheep and felt the occasional breath of breeze waft over him.
Through his closed lids he could tell the sun had climbed higher in the sky. It was getting hot. He scratched at an itch on his chest. Maybe they should think about heading back. But he didn’t want to. Here, now, Martin sleeping next to him, his head resting on his shoulder, this was…perfect.
If they were to emigrate as Matt was urging them to do, would it always be like this? Could the two of them just up-sticks and move halfway around the world? Martin had said he could get a similar job down under: “Doctors will always need secretaries.” Colin knew most doctors had their practices in towns or cities; so they’d have to live in Walleroo or somewhere else within reasonable driving distance of the sheep station.
But they had lives back home. Okay, Colin didn’t have a job, but something would come up. Maybe if he studied for his Heavy Goods Vehicle licence he could work for a haulage company. Colin smiled; he knew his kinky husband would get off on being married to a trucker. But then he’s gotten off, twice, at the idea of me being a cowboy.
Colin knew his man would love him no matter what he did for a living. “Decisions, decisions.”
Hearing a soft snort, Colin opened his eyes and turned his head to see that Dottie had hobbled over to the shade of a nearby tree. He wondered idly if it was a coolabah. He guessed, given his clothing , he was the jolly swagman and his uncle Matt was the squatter. Heck, they even had a billabong close by, but as it was the height of summer, it was dry.
Breakfast had been great. They’d fed each other bite-sized morsels of sausages wrapped in bacon, tiny egg rolls, and little pastry parcels that Martin had said he’d ask Nance the recipe for.
Breakfast had led to another round of lovemaking, Martin topping Colin for a change.
“Uh?” Martin said, raising his head and rubbing his face. “Must have dozed off.”
“Yes, love.” Colin sat up and kissed his husband. “Ready to go home?” In a softer voice he added, “Wherever that is.”
Martin wrapped his arms around Colin. Moving in under the brim of the hat he kissed Colin’s cheek. “Home is wherever you are.”
THE END
Colin and Martin’s Goodbye Christmas
Colin Rogers flexed the fingers of his right hand before replacing them on the steering wheel.
“Still sore?” Martin Kellam asked.
“A bit.” Colin examined the reddened and puffy knuckles. At least the skin wasn’t broken.
Martin was blind, but Colin had long ago come to recognise that they were so attuned to each other, Martin often knew what Colin was thinking or doing.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Martin said, shaking his head.
Colin grunted. He’d put up with Bob’s snide comments for long enough. Even though Bob and Martin were brothers, they couldn’t be more different. Where Martin was kind and generous, Bob was mean-spirited and always angry.
Earlier that day they’d dropped off Christmas gifts for Martin’s nieces. The girls had been at a friend’s house and Martin had believed that his brother would be at work. He hadn’t, and it had taken less than a minute for Bob’s hateful remarks to start.
They’d always avoided the guy as much as they could, and when that was impossible, Colin had always managed to keep his mouth shut and his fists by his sides. But Bob’s parting comment of, “at least once you’re in Australia there’ll be two less limp-wristed queers walking the streets” had been the last straw. Colin had delivered a roundhouse punch to Bob’s face, feeling the satisfying crunch of Bob’s nose under his knuckles.
“My wrists are strong enough to drop you to the floor.”
As long as he lived, Colin would never forget the total look of shock on Bob’s face as he picked himself up off the carpet.
Colin flexed his right hand on the wheel once again. “He deserved it.” He reached his left hand over and patted Martin’s knee. “Any regrets?”
“About you thumping Bob? No.”
Coli
n chuckled. “I meant about us packing up and moving down under.”
“‘Whither thou goest, I will go. And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.’”
“Shakespeare?” Colin asked, sliding a quick glance at Martin.
“The Bible.”
Colin shook his head. His man was so intelligent, what Martin saw in a bloke who’d left school with only a handful of GCSE’s Colin didn’t…
“Don’t even go there,” Martin said, laying a hand on top of Colin’s and giving it a squeeze.
Colin smiled. Yep, it was amazing how well Martin knew him.
Martin sighed. “The only regret I have is leaving Seth.”
Colin turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through Martin’s.
Martin had struggled with the decision of whether or not to take his guide dog, Seth, with them, or start afresh in Australia with a new dog. Ultimately Martin was persuaded that the long flight, then the totally different environment—swapping a town in England for rural New South Wales—would be asking too much of the dog. Martin had called the guide dog association with his decision and they’d promised they’d be able to find a new owner for the dog.
Although Martin had bonded with Seth, Colin knew the connection hadn’t been as strong as the one he’d had with Toby, the German Shepherd he’d had when Colin first knew Martin. When Colin had questioned Martin about this, he’d denied that his feelings for Toby had been stronger, but he’d soon conceded that, yes, the relationship he’d had with Toby had been especially close. This brought back feelings of guilt. Colin had left the garden gate open one morning and Toby had wandered into the street and had been run over.
Colin was reassured somewhat by Martin’s words about Toby being a German Shepherd and Seth a Golden Retriever. “Once you’ve had a Shepherd you’re spoiled for any other breed.”
Martin had accepted Seth because he’d been available and Martin had needed a dog quickly.
“No, I have no regrets about leaving Yorkshire,” Martin said, rubbing a thumb along the side of Colin’s hand. “There’s maybe one or two regrets about leaving Britain.”
Colin nodded. It hadn’t been an easy decision to make. Colin had found another—better-paying—driving job after losing the one with the supermarket. But the time he and Martin had spent on Matt’s sheep station a couple of years earlier had persuaded him that, although he didn’t mind being behind the wheel, he was better suited to something in the open air. And you couldn’t get much more open than the huge fields on his Uncle Matt’s property.
