by BA Tortuga
The sound of a truck pulling up into the yard surprised him. Everyone knew he was home. No need to come feed for him.
The pups barked and wagged up a storm on the porch, so Stetson stepped out to see what was what.
He blinked a second. Curtis had to have broken every speed limit on the book.
That was Curtis, for sure, hopping out of his truck and trotting around to run up the stairs.
“Cowboy.” He felt like if he moved, he was going to crack down the middle like a dropped china plate. Boom.
“Hey, Roper.” Curtis didn’t break into a smile but came right to him, hugged him tight.
Stetson couldn’t breathe. He held on, trying to remember how to do this, how to live. He’d known he wasn’t okay, but this was shattering.
“Hey. Hey, I’m here. I got you.” Curtis rubbed his back, up and down, warming him.
“You did good,” he forced out.
“Thanks. Can we go inside? I’m froze.”
“I have the furnace on.” There wasn’t any more wood, so he’d turned up the heat as much as he dared.
“Sounds grand. Shit. Let me get a couple things from the truck.” Curtis moved fast, returning with some bags, one a big Target thing, the red circles on the bag unmistakable.
“You need help? I can help.”
“Sure.” Now Curtis did smile for him, handing him the big bag.
“I bet you got some laundry to do, huh?” He took the sack, then opened the door.
“I do, yeah. That off-strip hotel wouldn’t even do my shirts!” Curtis grinned at him when his mouth dropped open. “I know, it’s an outrage. They host a bunch of cowboys, they at least ought to starch shirts.”
“No shit on that. They ain’t cowboy people, I guess. I’ll run them down to the laundry.” Maybe this afternoon when Curtis was sleeping.
“Thanks, babe.” Curtis dropped his shit in a pile, took the Target bag from Stetson’s nerveless fingers, and then pulled him into another hug.
Stetson’s eyes dropped closed, and he told himself that crying was right out. He was a cowboy. Dammit.
Curtis never said a peep, just rubbed his back, really letting him lean.
“You—you want breakfast? I didn’t go to the store yet, but I can make you eggs.”
“I would love that, babe. If you’re not too tired.”
“I ain’t tired.” He was exhausted. That was totally different.
“Then bring on the food. For you too.” Curtis kissed him, just a soft brush of lips and stubble.
“Tell me about your trip?” He opened the fridge. There were seven eggs, a half stick of oleo, five Coors, and a container of half-and-half. Okay. Eggs.
“Long. But productive.” Curtis laughed, the sound happy as all get-out. “I won, Roper.”
“You did.” That was why he hadn’t called and told about Momma. What good would it have done? Curtis wouldn’t have been on the ball, and she was dead. That news could happen any time.
“I still can’t believe it. It was close there for a bit.”
“I was damn proud. Still am.” Hell, at the end of Curtis’s last ride, Stetson had been on his feet, jumping up and down and shouting.
“Thanks.” Curtis sobered. “I’m so sorry, Roper.”
He didn’t pretend not to know what about. “It was time. She hadn’t been there for days. She couldn’t swallow, she couldn’t speak. She didn’t even cry no more.”
“God.” Curtis closed his eyes, lips pressed together. “Then it’s a blessing. She would hate living like that.”
“Yeah.” He’d thought of smothering her with a pillow, of just holding her nose and mouth closed and stopping her suffering, but he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t a big enough man.
“Have you—uh, do you need help? Making arrangements?”
“They’re cremating her. Everyone will start coming day after tomorrow, you know?” It was polite to wait for the full four days before coming to the family, especially up here in Taos. It was the way of half his momma’s family, the Pueblo side.
“Sure. Are you doing a service?” Curtis shifted in his chair, seeming uncomfortable.
“I don’t know. I ought, huh? For her friends? I don’t know how.”
“Well, I can make some calls.”
He nodded slowly. Curtis was good at arranging shit, and Stetson was tired of dealing. “I just… there’s enough life insurance to cremate her and stuff. Did you know they have to put her in a box to do it?”
“Nope.” Curtis stared at him, eyes wide. “They burn the box too?”
“Uh-huh. I had to pick one out.” No one should have to do that. No one. Ever.
“Damn. That’s crazy.”
“It is. I—” No one but him had to know he picked cardboard, right? He didn’t have a choice, moneywise. The wood ones, even plain pine, made everything too expensive.
“Hey. Breathe, baby. It’s okay.” Curtis stopped sitting and staring, and moved to take the egg carton from him.
“I’m sorry. I’m not—I’m sorry.”
“Shit, Stetson. You’ve had a hell of a time.” Curtis cracked eggs into the bowl he’d pulled out of the cabinet. “You’re upright and moving, and that’s a lot.”
“I guess so.”
“Now we’re both upright and moving, together. Even my tailbone, which protested the drive.”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if there’s bread.”
“No biggie.” Curtis dug around in cabinets. “There’s Pop-Tarts and hamburger buns. Buns?”
“If they’re not moldy, go for it. I think they’re partially made of trees.”
“Tree bread? Eek.” Curtis put the buns back. “Pop-Tarts it is. Told you I’m off the diet.”
Stetson started laughing, the noise tearing out of him, sounding more hurt than happy. God. God, he loved this son of a bitch.
Curtis grinned wide, like he’d done something amazing.
Tears were hiding behind the laughter, so he went for another hug, smashing them both in the hard muscle of Curtis’s shoulder.
Curtis held on, going to sit at the table, breakfast ignored for the moment. He perched on Curtis’s lap, feeling weirdly huge.
“I miss her. I knew I’d never bring her home again, but….” But she was his momma, and she’d never let him down before. Some part of him had believed she’d beat this, somehow, because she was his momma and she loved him.
“It blows, baby. It’s shitty. I know there’s all sorts of shit about better places, but she was fierce, your momma. She loved you.”
“She did. She does.” Some things were bigger than dying. This he knew.
“Yep.” Curtis hugged on him until someone’s stomach growled. Stetson thought it was Curtis’s.
“Eggs and Pop-Tarts.” The important things in life.
“You know it. I’m sorry, babe. I’m starving.”
“Don’t be sorry! I’ll feed you.” He was being a titty-baby.
“We’ll feed each other. Egg duty or toaster manning?”
“I’ll scramble the eggs. My pan is cranky.”
“Works for me.” Curtis set to tugging Pop-Tarts out of their sleeves and popping them into the toaster. “You even have the good kind. Cinnamon and brown sugar.”
“That’s the only decent kind.”
This was an old argument. A wonderful one.
“Oh, I dunno. I like cherry. Frosted.”
“Ick. Those are unnatural.” He grinned because his argument didn’t even make sense, but it felt good.
“They are not. Now, those blue-and-pink things? Bad mojo.”
“They have blue and pink?”
“Some kind of fake berry.” Curtis shivered dramatically.
“Fake… ew. No. No no.” The eggs stuck. They always stuck in this pan since Momma left. Maybe he didn’t use enough butter. She never used nonstick anything.
“We need to get you new pans, baby.”
“Oh, I make do.”
“I kn
ow, but you’re losing the money in eggs you’d put into a new pan.” The Pop-Tarts came up, and Curtis grabbed them, put them on plates.
He chuckled softly. “Spoken like a man that has cooked a few eggs in his time.”
“I have. Protein, and you can cook them in a camp skillet on Sterno.”
Oh. Camping. He hadn’t gone camping in a while….
“What’s that smile for?” Curtis bumped hips with him.
“Huh? Oh, I was just… wandering.”
“Mmm. It looked like a good wander.”
“It was. I was thinking about camping, with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like for fun.”
“We could do that, for sure. We could go down toward Las Cruces in the spring.”
“Do you want to, though?” God, that would be fun. And cheap too. He had an old tent; all it would cost was gas.
“Hell, yes. You know I love to fish.”
“Uh-huh.” Curtis liked to nap in the sun while they fished. The fishing was his best excuse.
“Then we’ll do it.”
His grin felt odd, stretching cheeks that hadn’t smiled much lately. “Eat your eggs.” He’d given Curtis the lion’s share.
“Thanks.” Curtis dug in, eating with the kind of mechanical precision only athletes managed to attain.
He watched, drinking Curtis in. This was his last hoorah, the last one here, and if he was honest, the last one with Curtis. They’d only ever had that one big blowout fight; then Curtis had just stopped coming home, and he’d stopped going out, and suddenly he’d seen Curtis on the TV with Danny Gonzales and he’d known everyone had moved on.
“You okay?” That sharp gaze never missed much.
“Fine as frog hair.” He ate one of the Pop-Tarts and a couple bites of eggs, then pushed his plate over. “I’m full, cowboy. You ought to eat ’em.”
“Stetson, you need to eat. We need to go get groceries.” Still, Curtis took the food. “We’ll get you some grapes.”
“I’ll pick some stuff up.” While Curtis was sleeping.
“Cool. I’ll come with. Just to see what town looks like.”
“Yeah? It looks like Taos. Cold and snowy.” And beautiful. Because it still was so goddamn beautiful.
“Yeah, but it’s been years since I spent any time.” Those lean cheeks went pink, and Curtis ducked his head.
“We’ll have a good time, huh?” Momma would be tickled.
“We will.” Curtis stood, then gathered the dirty dishes. “Man, it’s good to be out of the truck.”
“I bet. You want a shower? It’s clean. The tub.” He hadn’t even been able to go to Momma’s side of the house yet.
“I do. Don’t suppose you wanna come with?” Now, that was purely naughty.
“I do. I most definitely do, cowboy.” He wanted to touch, to remember how to feel.
“Yee-haw. Come on, baby.” Curtis took his hand after putting the dishes in the sink, their calluses scraping where they touched.
Baby. Curtis had called him that so much back in the day. Hadn’t called him that much recently. Or maybe he had, and Stetson hadn’t heard it. He didn’t know. All he knew was he heard it now and it heated him right up. He supposed he ought to feel guilty, with all the stuff he had to deal with, going off to play with Curtis.
He didn’t.
He wanted what he could get. He needed all he could get.
Curtis dragged him into the bedroom, then the bathroom, got the water going with a few quick motions.
He toed his boots off, then stripped off his heavy shirt and hooked it on the door. He moved like he was underwater, stripping down while he waited for Curtis to plop his ass on the pot so Stetson could work the man’s lace-ups off.
Curtis sat, lifting one leg, and he unlaced and tugged and pulled, the motions familiar as breathing.
“God, you’re hot.”
The words made him look up, blink. “What?”
“I mean it, Roper. You’re stunning. Make me so damned happy.” Those blue eyes burned for him, staring right into him.
He leaned in, bracing himself on those ropy thighs and taking his kiss. What else could he do? Curtis’s words touched him soul-deep, where he needed that balm.
Curtis kissed him like there was nothing else on earth he’d rather do. Slow and easy, hands on his hips to hold him up.
“Come on, baby. I need you to love on me some.”
“I’m ready.” He straightened up, then pulled Curtis up with him, working on those drove-all-night clothes.
Together they managed to get naked, both of them standing there for a second, staring like goats at a new fence. Curtis was bruised from one end to the other.
“Hot water, cowboy. It’ll help.”
“I hope so.” Curtis laughed. “I’m not broke, though.”
“Nope.” That was him. “Thank God for it too.”
“Yeah?” Curtis kissed him again, and they stepped into the shower, locked together like that. That mouth could make a man forget his own name, let alone all his troubles.
He grabbed the Irish Spring and started rubbing, relearning every inch of Curtis with a careful hand. No hurting.
Curtis leaned on the wall and let him have at all that skin. It didn’t take long for Curtis to take the soap, though, and return the favor. Impatient cowboy.
“You’re fixin’ to dry up and blow away. I need to cook for you. Spend some long days in bed together.” Curtis traced the hollows under Stetson’s ribs.
“Been a hard little bit. Don’t worry on me. I needed to tighten up.”
“Bullshit.” Curtis said it fondly, but that jaw was set like steel. He knew who would be buying the groceries this time. No arguments.
He traced that angular jaw, his body telling him that maybe he wasn’t as old as he felt, that there was something about Curtis and his hard body that made Stetson want to go to his knees and beg.
Not that he needed to. Curtis gave him everything. Touches and kisses and words. All of it.
“Want everything, Roper. Want you now and tomorrow and the day after.”
The bite to his earlobe made him twist and sob. He wanted all that and then some. He wasn’t sure he could believe anymore.
“Hot motherfucker.” Curtis growled for him, the sound hard and needy, not a bit of softness in it. “Now.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t even care what he was agreeing to. He just wanted it. Now.
Curtis took him in hand, fingers closing around his cock. The tugging sent a shock through his balls.
“Cowboy, fuck, you make me—” He went up on tiptoe, swallowing down his cry.
“That’s the idea.” Breathless as hell, Curtis worked him, never letting him down for a moment.
Time stopped and he stared, those blue eyes like lasers. No one had ever been Curtis Traynor. No one.
“Stetson.” His name. Just his name, but Curtis said it like a prayer.
All he could do was nod and try to suck in one breath, another. Well, and not drown. He laughed, the sound rough and harsh, because Curtis tugged his balls at the end of the latest stroke down.
“Want to watch you shoot for me. Want to see you scream.”
Somehow he didn’t think that was going to be a problem. He was only as quiet as he was because he lacked breath.
Curtis gave him even more then, bending to kiss him, free hand sliding down to cup one asscheek.
Lightning hit him, and he shattered, coming so hard he forgot everything but his cowboy’s name. That he knew, and he shouted it to the air, his body sawing back and forth.
“Fuck, baby. Look at you. Just look. So damned pretty.”
He felt shattered, bone-deep. He slumped against Curtis, holding those strong shoulders to keep him upright.
“Sorry. Sorry.” He needed to take care of Curtis. He knew it.
“I’m not.” Curtis nibbled at the side of his neck. “That was fucking amazing. Better than any ride I’ve ever had.”
Stetso
n chuckled. “Than any ride, cowboy?”
“Even the gold buckle, Roper.” That tone…. He glanced up, finding Curtis staring at him, not wavering one bit.
“Well, then….” He eased himself down on the bath mat, letting Curtis’s body protect him from the spray. He didn’t wait, because he didn’t know how long the hot water would hold out.
“Oh, damn.” Curtis stretched up tall, cock bobbing in front of him.
“Mine.” He licked a line from the underside of Curtis’s cock all the way to the tip.
“Yours,” Curtis agreed, hips bucking just like he was riding in the short go.
It was easy to lick again, try to get more of that amazing salt, that taste of pure need. The water held a hint of soap, but it wasn’t bad at all.
Stetson closed his eyes and wrapped his lips around Curtis’s thick cock, tongue moving restlessly over the heavy shaft. He worked up to trace the head, the flared ridge fascinating him, the slit so delicate, so sensitive.
Those muscles worked under Curtis’s skin, and Curtis started babbling at him, love words and swear words and finally grunts and clicks.
That was what he needed, what he wanted, to make Curtis crazy. He wanted all the sounds and touches. Everything.
Curtis cupped the back of his head, encouraging him to move faster, take more. Not forcing; Curtis would never do that. That was what made Stetson work harder, bobbing up and down, sucking deep.
He heard a strangled sob, a low, needy cry, and he swallowed, needing to pull Curtis over the edge.
Bitter, salty heat filled him, Curtis shouting when he came, one hand on his head, one on his shoulder. Look at that man ride….
The water stung his eyes, and he blinked it away, wanting to see.
“Jesus, Roper. You’re gonna make me fall down.” Curtis had the goofiest grin on his face.
“You don’t get moving soon, you’re gonna freeze. That hot water’s going to give up the ghost soon.”
“It already is a little.” Curtis tugged him upright to rinse them both off.
He turned the faucets before Curtis became a Popsicle, then grabbed the towels.
“Brrr. Damn. I need to get you a towel warmer.”
“Oh, I had one of those once. Used it ’til it died.”
“Well, see?” They both shivered and ran. Clothes. They needed clothes.
