Coming Home (2 page)

Brad pulled into Johnson's Feed to pick up his latest delivery for the farm. As his beat up Chevy truck came around the building to the loading dock, he saw another customer's Ford was parked parallel to the loading bay. He didn't recognize the truck.

Nice, asshole, just block the loading bay why don't you?
He was tapping his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel to the latest Jason Aldean song while he waited. Suddenly he stopped. Out of the bay walked the owner of the truck. Brad watched, from the cab of his Chevy, as the owner carried what looked like a box of roofing shingles over his muscular shoulder. The white wife beater he wore did nothing to hide the play of muscles as he removed the heavy box from his shoulder and squatted down to drop it in the bed of the Ford.
Damn impressive balance
, Brad thought as he watched the jeans get tighter.
The guy's cowboy hat was pulled just as low as it had been in the bar so Brad could not get as good of a look at the guy's face as he wanted to. He continued to watch as the man stood and retreated into the coolness of the feed store.
Was that a tattoo on his right shoulder?
The guy made three more trips before he jumped down from the bay and walked to the driver's side of his Ford. As much as Brad wanted to know what the newcomer looked like, he didn't have the balls to get out of his truck and play 'welcoming committee.'
Chase noticed the Chevy pull up while he was loading his truck. He didn't pay much mind to who was sitting behind the wheel but as he swung open his door, he glanced at the driver from under the brim of his hat.
"Fuckin' A," he growled under his breath as he climbed into the cab.
Do I have to run into that asshole everywhere?
Chase growled again at the stupidity of his thought. Only the Quik-Mart and Feedstore, so chances were he would be running into him everywhere but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Brad was startled and confused by the snarl that the cowboy shot in his direction before he got into his truck and drove off. That look was deadly, even without seeing the guy's whole face, and Brad couldn't for the life of himself figure out what he could have done to the stranger to deserve such a look. Brad gave himself a shake and backed his truck into the loading bay.
"Billy!" Brad called out as he walked into the feed store that always smelled of hay. "I'm here for the feed delivery."
"Hey Brad," Billy called back to him from the back of the store. "Your feed is on the pallet up by the door." Billy stepped into view and walked toward him. "I'll help you load up."
"Thanks," Brad replied and they started moving the twenty pound bags of feed from the pallet to the truck bed.
"So, whose roof needs fixin'?" Brad asked casually as he took another bag of feed from Billy.
"The ol' Murphy place, it seems," Billy replied. "Not too surprisin' though as it been empty d'ese last eight yers."
Brad caught another bad of feed. "Old man Hawkins should have said somethin'. Me an' Bobby coulda fixed it cheaper than a contractor."
"He dina hire no contractor," Billy began as another bag of feed changed hands. "Chase Murphy be back an' fixin' it himself. Ya jest miss'd um'."
Brad almost dropped the bag of feed that Billy has tossed his way.
The hot cowboy was that scrawny twerp Chase Murphy? No fucking way
, Brad thought. They finished loading the feed in silence and Brad paid for the delivery before he headed back to his farm.
The whole ride home, Brad could not get the image of the four eyed, pimple faced twerp to turn into the cowboy he had seen at the bar.
No wonder the guy looked like he wanted to take a chunk out of my hide,
Brad thought. He cringed when he thought of all the shit he and his friends did to the poor kid when they were in high school.
But that was then and surely the guy couldn't be holding a grudge after all these years, could he?
Well, if the look he received this afternoon was any indication… it seemed he was.
"Ah, hell," Brad mumbled to himself as he turned onto the dirt road that led to his barn. "The guy deserves an apology; it's the right thing to do. And not because he is hot now." Brad tried to tell himself and decided that if he ran into Chase at the Trough this weekend that he would do just that.

It was late afternoon when Chase decided he was finished laying shingles for the day. The white wife beater he had been wearing when he started the roof repairs was now a sweaty, dingy gray rag and hung from his back pocket. He gathered up his tools and after putting them inside the back door, decided a swim in the creek was just what he needed to cool off. That and a couple of cold beers.
Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his PT shorts, a small igloo cooler in hand, and walking through the woods at the back of his property toward Wilsons Creek. Chase took another swig of the cold beer he was drinking and was just lowering it from his mouth when he heard the whinny of a horse in the distance.
Shit.
If he didn't have bad luck, he'd have none at all. The Wilson's property backed up to his own, the creek the boundary line, and they had always had horses on their farm. However, unless something had changed, the only time they came down to the creek was when they were ridden. What would he bet that that asshat Brad was at the swimming hole.
Chase took another gulp of his Bud and was not sure why he didn't just turn his ass around and head back to the house. Maybe it was the memories of spying on Brad and the rest of the jocks when they skinny dipped in the creek that kept him walking toward the swimming hole. He could barely see the sunlight reflecting off the creek when he came upon his old deer stand. The two by fours still looked sturdy and he glanced up to the plywood platform. How many times had he sat up there spying on the jocks and feeling himself harden at the sight of them skinny dipping? Too many to count.
Again, Chase wondered what the hell he was doing but the thought didn't stop him from climbing up into the deer stand. The stand was more cramped then he remembered but then again, he hadn't been over six feet tall the last time he dangled his legs over the edge of the plywood. Chase opened his igloo quietly and exchanged his empty bottle for a full one before he searched the creek. The foliage had filled in some over the last eight years but not enough to obscure his view. He saw the bare backed horse tethered to a low branch on the Wilson's side of the creek but saw no sign of its rider. As if thinking about the prick somehow summoned him, Brad broke the surface of the water.
His brown hair fell wetly into his eyes until he shook his head like Chase had seen him do hundreds of times in their youth. The antagonist from his high schools days pulled himself out of the creek and onto the flat rock that was used for sunbathing. Streams of water caught the sunlight as it ran down his muscular back and over the band of white skin where his tan line stopped at his already wet cut-offs. Brad lifted equally tanned arms and used his hands to brush his wet locks back from his face before he laid down on the rock.
Hatred and desired conflicted as they washed over Chase while he watched Brad settle down to dry. It had been a long time, over eight years, since he had felt the warring emotions. When he felt himself go from soft to semi-hard, he was not surprised. Sitting in his deer stand and watching Brad Wilson at the creek was like stepping back in time. Only now, Chase wasn't a kid anymore.
Brad's body was finally cooled off from his swim in the creek. However, his blood was still running hot. He could not stop thinking about Chase Murphy. That Chase Murphy that was the sexy cowboy he saw at the Trough and feed store. Just remembering the way the man's muscles rippled under the white tank and how his jeans molded his ass when he squatted made his cock grow hard. He moved his hand down to his straining button fly's and unbuttoned the cut-offs.
Brad had never been with a guy and wasn't even sure he was gay but for the last few years, he had been more turned on by the men in the porn he watched than the women. So, being turned on by the sexy cowboy had not been too big of a shock. The fact that the cowboy was Chase Murphy, however, was.
In his mind it was Chase opening his shorts and taking a hold of him.
What would it feel like to be touched by another man?
Brad imagined his own callused hand was that of Chase as he began to stroke himself in earnest.
Chase stared down at Brad from his deer stand while he jerked off under God and the sun. How many times as a teen had he fantasized about the jocks doing just that on the rock? His own erection was painfully hard and tenting his PT shorts as he leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. Chase forgot all about his beer and took his own cock in hand, matching the speed of the man below, who was unaware of being watched.
The water on Brad's chest soon turned into beads of sweat and Chase imagined licking every last drop off as he worked his way down to the hard cock that was being handled so roughly. He surprised himself with the thought that had crept into his head. Chase continued to match Brad stroke for stroke and when Brad's back arched off the rock, cum splattering up his chest and calling out, Chase was right there with him. The years of silently jerking off at night in the barracks was the only thing that prevented Chase's own noises from joining Brad's over the creek.
Chase wiped his hand down his own chest to clean it of cum then wiped it on the plywood of the tree stand as he watched Brad rinse off in the creek. Chase drank two more beers before Brad mounted his horse to head home. Chase did the same.

Chase stood at the same spot at the end of the bar as he had the previous Saturday. Almost the same crowd, person to person, was in the Trough which didn't surprise him.

Who really wanted to drive an hour or more for music and beer?
The thought had crossed Chase's mind but until he could get his internet hooked up and find a decent gay bar, the Watering Trough would just have to do.

The door opened and Chase wasn't shocked to see Brad standing just inside until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. Just like everyone else in the area, he was sure the asshat didn't want to drive for his music and beer either. He had to grudgingly admit, the man cleaned up well.

Probably has a date with whoever he had been fantasizing about at the creek.
Chase continued to watch Brad as he scanned the bar as if he was looking for someone specific. When his gaze settled on Chase, he was glad the brim of his hat was pulled low. Brad continued to look at him and when he began to walk in his direction, Chase was glad he had learned to hide certain emotions in the Corps. A run in with Brad was just what he didn't fucking need.

Brad had hoped that Chase Murphy would be at the Trough again and when he locked eyes onto the cowboy, he made a beeline for the man. He was about six feet from him when Bobby stepped into his path.

"Hey Brad," Brad's eyes left Chase and focused on his best friend. "You hear? That twerp Chase Murphy has come home." Brad's eyes instinctively flashed to Chase and he could swear he saw the man's attractive jaw clench.

"Whatda ya say we go an' give 'um a proper welcome home?" Bobby said and was grinning when Brad looked back at him.

The movement Brad saw from the corner of his eye caused him to look back to Chase just in time to see him finish his beer and leave some cash on the bar.

"What are you still in high school, Bobby?" Brad asked as he looked back to his friend while still concentrating on Chase out of the corner of his eye.

"Shit, man. What could be more entertain' then givin' that little cocksucker a proper meet and greet?" Brad tensed at the term 'cocksucker' but Bobby didn't notice. He just continued to grin with a glint in his eye that meant he was looking forward to a good throw down.

Before Brad could reply, Chase walked by them, shouldering into Bobby. The look on the man's face was one that would stop the Devil in his tracks and Brad inwardly cringed.

Bobby might get his punch up after all
, Brad thought glumly. Too bad I don't think he will win, even after I am dragged into it.

"'scuse me," Chase said but Brad was sure he'd bumped into Bobby on purpose as he made his way to the door.

"Watch where yer walkin'!" Bobby hollered out to Chase's back. Chase didn't even look back to spare Bobby a glance.

"Leave it, Bobby." Brad took Bobby's arm and led him to the spot of the bar that Chase had occupied. "I need a drink."

So much for making amends tonight,
Brad thought as he glanced at the Trough door that just swung closed.

Chase heard the exchange between Brad and Bobby and was not surprised that Bobby still had the mentality of a pea. It was clear by the glances that Brad was shooting him that Brad knew who he was. The guy was definitely heading in his direction at the bar.

If Bobby Morris was looking for a punch-up, he was going to be in for a surprise of his own
.
Chase made sure that when he joined the Corps that he would be one of the biggest, baddest, motherfucking Marines in his platoon. And he was. Never again would the dickwads of the world like Bobby Morris and Brad Wilson threaten or intimidate him.
Chase thought about how Brad's eyes widened slightly when he shoulder knocked Bobby. Brad definitely knew who he was and now that he was larger than both the jocks, he was sure Brad wouldn't give him any trouble. What he wasn't sure of was why the man was heading toward him in the first place.
Chase hadn't seen any signs of aggression in Brad and it was not like they had ever been friends.
So, what could he have wanted?
Whatever it was, Chase wasn't interested.