Cowboys 03 - My Cowboy Homecoming (18 page)

I lifted Lucho up and carried him the few steps to the bed—not out of any desperate need to make some romantic gesture—but because that seemed the fastest way to get him there and once there, I could strip his clothes off and take a look at him in all his naked glory.

And I tried to be so goddamn careful when I set him down on the silken surface of the bed, but because I didn’t think to peel back the coverlet first, we both flailed around like upturned roaches while we wiggled the bedspread out from under us.

“Whoa,” Lucho laughed.
Luis.
“Slow down. When’s our reservation?”

“Nine.”

“So late?” His cool hands framed my cheeks.

Well, maybe his hands were normal but my face was hot.

“You horn dog. You planned for this?”

“Hell yeah, I did.” I grinned at him.

“Good boy.” He stripped his tie off slowly as I undid the buttons of his shirt. I took his compression boot off one foot, and that handsome cowboy boot he wore off the other. Then I oh, so carefully removed his jeans and shorts, moving the fabric over his injured foot like I was transporting dynamite. I replaced the boot to keep his foot safe. “This okay?”

“Yes,” he said thickly.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He let his head fall back onto the pillow. “It’s fine as long as the foot’s immobilized.”

“Okay.” Once I got him naked, I straddled him, drinking in the sight. “How’re we going to do it? Can I ride you?”

“You wanna?” His fingers were already stroking the tops of my thighs. “You gonna be able to take me?”

“I—” I lost all power of speech just thinking about it—thinking about him under me, his cock inside me. Now that I had him stretched out on a bed naked and at my mercy, I was more than ready.

“Luis.”

Beautiful, beautiful cowboy.

His muscles were hard plains; his secret places, deep lush valleys. He was all shadow and light and slick, jutting dick and I wanted him inside me so badly my mouth went dry.

“Take your jeans off.” He put his hands behind his head and grinned up at me. “I want to see what I’m getting into here.”

“All right.” I moved off him and got my boots off, then I stood again to unbuckle my belt where he could see me give it a slow slide from the loops that held it. I pulled it off and snapped it a couple of times before draping it over the chair with his clothes. I undid my jeans with my back to him, slid them down and off, exposing my ass.

“Christ, army. Look what you got there.” He sat up, braced by his elbows. “Are you wearing a jock?”

“Yes.”

He reached out and snapped the elastic framework that bared my ass. “Your buttocks are exposed.”

Somehow, I thought he might like underwear I’d never let my ma see in a million years.

Maybe not.

A throw pillow hit my back. “I gotta take a bite out of that,
papi
. Come over here and shake that thing where I can get my teeth on it.”

“Okay.” I picked up my Dopp kit and dropped it on the nightstand. “’Cause that’s not weird at all.”

“You’re the one wearing underwear that makes your ass look like a ripe, delicious peach.” He grabbed for me, caught the elastic band, and pulled, fighting with me until they were down around my ankles.

“Enough.” I fell into bed with him, laughing, leaving my jock in a tangle on the floor. “All right.”

I crawled to his side and hovered over him for a minute before leaning in for a kiss.

I could never find my footing with Lucho. He was serious one minute, playful as a pup the next. Was I supposed to be romantic, or silly? Was I supposed to take what I could get and roll over after? Or make small talk and goof around—

I must have stared at him too long, because he pulled back. “Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

My mouth fell open. “Yeah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you having second thoughts or something?”

“God no. I was trying to take my time and do it right.”

“Do it right?” He gave me a light shove. “I don’t know about you, but I rarely do it wrong.”

“I wanted you to know it’s more than a grope in the barn.”

“Aw, I know, baby.” He pulled me to him, causing our cocks to tangle between our bellies. A light kiss on my shoulder made me smile. “Cowboy up and ride me. You cannot get this wrong.”

Laughing, I leaned in and lost myself in the drugging expertise of his kisses. He was all heat. All muscle. Good smells, and sounds that went straight to my cock.

I spared the briefest thought to his foot. He arched up against me, giving up such a relieved, strangled and desperate sort of noise that I ground down, savoring the impossibly luscious drag of his bare skin against mine. Like a single, solid mass of clenching muscle, we writhed there, humping against each other, greedy for relief, damp with sweat and slick with passion.

He reached for my case before I could, pulling it closer, fumbling it open and spilling the contents on the bed. I felt blindly for lube and condoms, all the while finding new places to suck and kiss and bite on Luis’s jaw and neck and chest.

“Like that?” I nudged into the skin beneath his ear and nipped the lobe.

“Mmn. Christ, yes.” He bit his lip and surged up. Yeah. He liked that. He opened his eyes and pinned me with a gaze so full of sensual promise, I had to catch my breath. “Let me prep you,
papi
.”

“I can—”

“Let me do it.” He held out his hand for lube, so I sat back and squeezed a healthy dollop onto his fingers. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

“Well, hello,
Luis
.” I smiled and lifted myself up to let him reach me—let him breach me. He was gentle, but so thorough. He had me writhing and begging in a matter of breaths. Callused fingers probed and stroked, deft and accurate.

When he slid past my hot spot, I shorted out, dropping my forehead to his chest and sobbing helplessly against his skin. My thighs trembled and I humped him like an animal, needing so much more . . .

I was afraid I’d come before I was on his cock.

“No. Too much.” I pulled away to tear a condom open and then roll it on him with shaking fingers. “Want you inside me when I come.”

Our eyes met, and he stilled, letting me guide him in, letting me control the pace, the tempo, and the intensity of that first joining between us, and it was so goddamn good. Naked need, throbbing between us. Each stroke stoking a furnace inside me, making my cock bob and leak into the air above his belly.

“
Fuck
.
Yeah
. Want you deep and hard.”

As I began to sink, the pain was real.
Wrenching.
The skin around my stretched hole burned and all my muscles clenched tight against the invader until I thought I couldn’t take it—until I thought I was going to have to tell him to stop—but at last, exactly when I was certain I couldn’t take any more, that it was impossible and he’d tear me apart, a wave of pure sensation washed over me and my body gave in. I let out a noise unlike anything I’d ever heard before, part sob of relief, part happy laugh.

As fierce as the pain had been, his touch on my cheek was gentler, his look of near-wonder when my body gave way more sincere. And when I finally sank as far down as I could go, finally had him inside me to the hilt and I rested on his thighs, his expression was more genuine than any I’d ever seen.

“Hey.” As he drew out, he stretched up and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. Both hands wrapped around my hips to pull me down while he gave me that first hard, thrust. “I wish I had a picture of you, just like that.”

“Yeah?” I’d placed both my hands flat on his broad chest, where I felt the trip-hammer beats of his heart through my fingertips. His breath, his pulse, his very life was mine in that moment. He had no clue how much I desired him.

“Just like that. Open to me. Mine.”

I nodded and leaned over to kiss him. That slight movement set off a chain reaction inside me. My muscles tightened as my weight shifted, and the next agonizing slow glide of his dick inside me began. From there I lifted my hips, and any pain turned to liquid heat and pleasure, all that stretching turned to deep satisfaction, and every move I made zinged all over my body like the prickling of tiny electric shocks.

Deep, powerful ripples of pleasure rocked through me.

“Harder, Luis,” I whispered as he surged up into me. I may have been on top but he held my hips in a bruising grip and shoved his cock inside me. I rocked and shimmied back against him—as ferocious in the taking as he was in the giving.

“God,” Luis murmured against my skin. “
Dios
. Your ass is sweet, baby.”

“C’mon.” I arched my back and came down hard. “Show me. How sweet? Show me what you need from me.”

“Fuck.
Fuck
.” His graceless, frantic thrusts drove me to an edge of an excitement I didn’t know existed. Sweat slicked my skin. Droplets fell from my forehead and splashed onto his face and into his eyes.

He blinked and turned his head, giving me the perfect place to lay my cheek when the first insistent pulsing of my passion started at the base of my spine. “Luis.
Ah, God, Luis . . .
I’m—”

“Yeah.” He gave a choked cry. “Do it.”

He lost all rhythm. Urgently jerking his hips, chasing his orgasm, filling me full and pinging my sweet spot, over and over. I lost my mind and my orgasm burst from me like a wild horse to gallop along my nerve endings, tightening my balls and surging from my cock in thick white plumes of excitement that painted his belly and chest like cloud shadows. I sagged against him just as he tightened all around me.

“Tripp. Dios mio.”
He grunted my name, his sex words bilingual, his voice a hoarse whisper against my hair. “
Chingame . . . Fuck
.”

“Mm.” Cock still throbbing, pulse drumming that bliss tattoo, I sighed and let my eyes fall closed. “Luis.”

I don’t know how long we lay there like that, boneless and exhausted, our hearts wide open, our breathing sharp and quick.

“You are a firecracker in the sack.” He huffed a laugh near my ear just before he pulled his sheathed cock from my body.

“
Jesus.
” My ass hurt and I was grateful he’d disengaged carefully.

“Sorry.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek. “That was awesome.”

“Agreed.” I lay there, limp and sticky. Sated for the moment, drifting in a haze of pure fucked-out well-being.

Lucho stirred beneath me. “What time is it?”

I gave his arm a thump. “You got somewhere else you need to be?”

“We’re going to get stuck. I ain’t eating my steak fused to you like a sideshow freak.”

He was right, goddamnit.

I rolled off and propped my head on my hand. He bore the marks of my enthusiasm on his neck and shoulders. I’d been a little rough, but I was sure I’d find bruises on my hips too. My skin cooled off quickly in the air-conditioned room, so I pulled the sheet over both our bodies.

“Would it be so bad? To be stuck to me?”

His brown gaze warmed. “Are you one of those guys who talks after fucking?”

“Apparently.”

He shoved his hands beneath his head. “Being stuck to you might have its upside.”

“I can show you upside if you need a reminder.” I ran my hand up his inner thigh.

To my surprise, he
seriously, passionately
, kissed me again, and when I might have pulled away, he acted like he wasn’t nearly done with me yet. He caressed me lazily, running his hand over my back and ass. His fingers drifted down my ass crack and my traitorous cock responded as if my ass hadn’t been pounded into submission fifteen minutes before. My cock filled. It stretched toward Lucho. He slid his fingers past my hole to rub behind my balls and the next thing I knew it was
on
again, and we were panting and grinding.

I responded like a randy kid, ready to go. Aching, arching, and leaking with need. Hard enough to hurt.

“Here,” He pulled me over him and we took it slow and easy, just grinding against each other and working ourselves up, sweat and pre-come all the lube we needed. He pushed up against me, and I rocked back. Languid friction—both comforting and arousing—took us to a different place entirely. Not urgent. Not frantic.

He lit me like a slow, cheerful fire—comfortable and familiar. He was coffee with a little whiskey in it. Sweet and warm and intoxicating.

“Yeah. That’s it. Go slow. We got plenty of time.” He smiled up at me between kisses, full of kindness. Gentle humor. He led me toward fulfillment with a nudge here and there. Leisurely. Companionably.

When I came, the climax wasn’t the vast, cosmic explosion of the first time we’d made love, but the rush I felt this time glimmered inside me far longer. One was fireworks and the other starlight and both left me dazzled.

“Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to his.

I drifted off to sleep with the absolute conviction I was onto something there, something vastly important, but the thought faded away with the pleasure.

***

“So now you’re Señor Silence?” Lucho asked later, while I was cleaning him up with a damp towel. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I was thinking about that tongue bath I promised you.” I ran the towel over his thighs and around his cock, extra thorough because we were heading out. I needed a shower, but Lucho’s foot made that luxury more difficult for him.

“Yeah. What about that?” he asked. “I feel cheated.”

“I’ll get to it later. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“All right.” Lucho turned his head and watched me walk to the bathroom. “It better be on the list, though.”

I smiled from the door. “I’m good for it.”

He rolled to the side of the bed and picked up his boot. “I’ll get dressed.”

“I’m showering. I’ll be right out, then we’ll go, all right?”

“You’re pretty good to me for a guy I treated like crap.”

“I told you—”

“I know. It’s part of your sinister plan.” He tossed me my Dopp kit, and I barely caught it. “Make yourself pretty, army. ’Cause I’m going to show you off.”

Dinner was exactly what I was hoping for. We sat in a U-shaped booth where Lucho could put up his foot, and the first thing we did was order drinks. Salad followed, and of course we had wine, so when it came time to eat our steaks, we were both feeling pretty mellow.

True to his word, Lucho ordered a porterhouse, which turned out to be about thirty ounces of perfectly aged beef, seared on the outside, rare and tender inside. I had a strip steak, which I ordered with a sauce and mushrooms. Between that, the baked potatoes, and the grilled vegetables, we could have fed a fledgling nation.

“How are you putting all that away?” He continued to methodically carve off and eat small bites of beef, long after I was finished with mine.

“What? I get hungry. Somebody gave me a workout before we came.” He grinned at me from behind his wineglass. “You want some?”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

“Oh yes, you are.” He sighed. “But I was talking about my steak.”

I nudged his good foot with mine. “I’m full, thank you.”

“Not going to have dessert?”

“Maybe.” I imagined eating dessert off his body. Watching vanilla ice cream melt on that creamy field of tan skin. “Maybe I’ll get something to go.”

“Maybe I’ll have dessert
and
get something to go.”

“Wait.” I squinted at him, mock serious. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He froze. “What?”

Oh, now I’d scared him.
Shit.
“It’s nothing. I was going to tease you about having a tapeworm.”

He relaxed visibly. “Oh.”

“What’d you think?”

“I don’t know. You suddenly got this blank expression on your face. I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, or—”

“Nah.” I’d forgotten Lucho was only my brother’s age, twenty-three or so. Now, bringing him to a white tablecloth place and plying him with liquor made me seem kind of like a jerk. “You know I don’t eat like this very often, right?”

“No?”

“Hell no.” I sighed. “I had this buddy, Maddox, who used to tell me stories about when he met his wife, Lottie, and how he took her to a place like this for dinner on their first date. He said it broke the bank, but it was worth it to make her feel special.”

“Really?” He tilted his head to one side. “Is that why you brought me here? To make me feel special?”

“Why else?”

“To get laid?”

“Well—” I thought about lying, making light of the situation. I thought about making some excuse or passing the whole thing off as a bad joke. Instead, I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. And to make you feel special.”

His good foot found mine under the table again. “That’s pretty sweet, cowboy.”

I shrugged, embarrassed now I’d said it. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, mostly.”

“Apparently you do when it comes to this”—he acknowledged our dinner sheepishly—“romantic stuff.”

“I guess I want you to know you mean something to me. You’re not just a dick in a barn.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “And I want to take all the time I need to find out what.”

“Sounds like a kids’ song, doesn’t it . . . ‘All around a dick in a barn, the monkey—’”

“Can you be serious for just . . . two seconds please?”

“Okay.” He pulled his napkin from his lap and wiped his lips. “But I’m not someone you have to impress. You know that, right?”

“I know that.”

“And I want to impress you too.” He leaned over. “I want to be Luis for you.”

“You’re way past impressive,” I whispered. “You pretty much knock me out.”

He smiled and lifted his wineglass to drink the dregs. “Yeah. I am awesome, aren’t I?”

Eventually, he put down his knife and fork and the busboy finally got the nerve to remove our plates, possibly only because Lucho didn’t seem likely to try to eat those too. The man was hollow, I’d have staked my reputation on it. The man simply had no insides because there wasn’t an edible morsel left.

“Are you gentlemen ready for dessert or coffee?” our waiter asked. “Brandy or cognac? Coffee drink?”

“I’ll have coffee, a piece of the chocolate cake,” Lucho’s eyes held laughter and the promise of mayhem, “and second piece to go, please.”

I snorted. “I’d like a kahlua coffee and a piece of carrot cake to go.”

The waiter nodded. “Excellent. I’ll be right back with your dessert.”

“How are you going to eat two pieces of cake.”

“One bite at a time,
papi
.” He put his hand on mine. “Don’t they teach you anything in the army?”

I glanced around. I couldn’t help it. Habit, old and ingrained, made me check to see if anyone was watching.

He drew his hand back as if it burned. “Sorry.”

“No.” I reached for his hand and pulled it back onto the table. Held it firmly in mine. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll bet even after Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell you didn’t do much hand-holding in the army.”

“You’d be pretty safe with that bet.” I made myself hold his hand. Kept my face neutral. Maybe that sounds crazy. I didn’t want to hide anymore, but it was still so hard to keep from looking around—from wondering what others were thinking, if others were watching. “Maddox probably never gave holding Lottie’s hand a second thought.”

“He probably never had to worry about getting jumped in the parking lot either.” Lucho pulled his hand back. “I can see it makes you uncomfortable, and to be honest, I don’t care that much either way.”

“PDAs do make me uncomfortable, but it’s not what you think. I feel people’s eyes on me, and it takes me right back to being deployed.” I took a shuddering breath and tried to relax. “But that’s my problem.”

“It’s okay. It’s—”

“What’s more important is I never want you to feel
less than
.” I leaned toward him. “You’re special. Like Maddox’s Lottie. Please believe me when I say I’m willing to stand by you. I want everyone to know how I feel about you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Right then, the waiter came with our dessert and I sat back. “Say ‘ah,’ because I think your cake is here.”

Lucho’s cake was a massive slab of rich dark chocolate with thick frosting and chips and nuts. “Here we go, triple chocolate cake and coffee for you,” he placed those in front of Lucho. “And for you sir, your Kahlua Coffee. I’ll box up your to-go desserts, and please”—he placed the leather folder on the table—“feel free to take your time. There’s no hurry at all.”

Once he left, I glanced back at Lucho and found him still, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes on me. “You want me to feel special. That’s the straight-up nicest thing any guy has ever said to me. If you mean that. If you—”

“I mean it. I’m too far gone to hide how I feel.”

He grinned and forked up a bite of cake. “As if you ever could.”

“Maybe not.” My coffee was still too hot to drink, but I sipped off some of the whipped cream so it didn’t run down the sides.

“You got something . . . um . . . right there . . .” He laughed his ass off while I wiped whipped cream from my nose. “You’re so smooth,
papi
.”

I took out my wallet and put a couple big bills in for the waiter, because yeah . . . the total felt like it broke the bank, but the expression on Lucho’s face—
I’m so happy right now
—was worth it.

He looked at his loaded fork and at me and then slid his plate across the table so I could get a bite of his dessert. I used my coffee spoon to take a bit off the edge.

Thick, rich. Fudgy. It was good, but too much for me. “That’s a little sweet for my taste.”

“I like sweet.” He lowered his lashes and dug up another forkful. “That’s why I can’t help liking you.”

“My evil plan has come to fruition at last.” I sipped my coffee to hide my smile.

“I guess it has.”

I motioned the waiter over. “Yes, sir?”

I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Could you please take our picture? Get a couple of them, for insurance.”

“I’d be happy to, sir.” Whatever the man thought about it, he was too professional to let us know. He got a few good shots of us on our first real date before handing me back my phone and taking away the check.

“Let me see.” Lucho leaned over impatiently while I reviewed the pictures. They were good, but I didn’t even recognize myself. It was oddly disorienting. My hair was longer than I was used to, and my expression . . . That wasn’t one I was saw in the mirror. I looked . . . happy.

I looked the same, yet totally different.

Lucho pried my phone from my fingers and scrolled through the pictures until he came to one of me in camo, with my gear and my men beside me.

“Which one is Maddox?” he asked. “Is he here?”

I took the phone back. Scrolled around until I found my favorite picture. Me, Maddox, Erb, Kelly and Franklin. We’d been goofing around one day, and Erb started singing “Gagnam Style,” and we’d all done that stupid dance . . .

I’d thrown my phone to someone and they caught a picture just as we were playing cowboy.

After he finished laughing, Lucho said, “I’d like to meet him someday. And Lottie.”

I nodded. Maddox—Luther “Mad Dog” Maddox—was gone, buried in Pennsylvania after a military funeral I wasn’t able to attend. But I just couldn’t say the words.

I’d always figured maybe someday, I’d visit Lottie. Go to the cemetery and leave a nice cigar and some Patrón for him.

My coffee was finally cool enough to drink, and I needed it, if only to have something to do with my hands.

“Did I say something wrong?”

I turned my attention back to Lucho. “No. Of course not.”

“You were somewhere else.” He took another bite of his cake.

“I warned you.”

He nodded. Chewed thoughtfully. “You’ve got bad memories.”

“Yeah.”

“If you ever want to share them—”

“I really don’t.” I preempted his words. “No offense. It doesn’t help.”

He nodded again. “All right. What does help? Anything?”

“Work.” I thought of Pio. Galleta. The sky over the J-Bar and that little cow we’d pulled. “Work helps a lot.”

“Does fucking?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” I joked, but then I remembered that it did, but only because Lucho was a hung motherfucker and I was out of practice . . .

I could only do something about one of those things . . .

“You about ready here?”

“Yeah.” Lucho literally dropped his fork with a clatter and then slid to the edge of the booth. “Get my chair?”

“On it.”

We laughed so hard as we made our way across the resort to our room. Everything was funny. Or if it wasn’t funny it was remarkable, and poignant. My emotions were all out of whack. Maybe because I’d been thinking of Maddox. Maybe because I was disoriented by the pictures—by a me that wasn’t exactly me. Or maybe it was because I’d started something with Lucho and I’d never felt like this before. Never been this happy or afraid or excited because of a man—an ordinary human being—and to me it seemed like he held my beating heart, my life, and my future in his hands.

In the distance, off to the northwest, lightning crackled in the sky.

“Looks like some weather coming our way,” he remarked.

I watched for a few seconds. “That looks ominous.”

“It looks exciting.” He reached over his shoulder and gave my hand a pat. “Don’t you think so?”

Maybe I did think that. If not, maybe I’d learn.

We made love while the storm raged outside. Then we slept some more before making love again, or trying to. Eventually I had to admit I was tapped out, so we spent the rest of our time together dozing and talking. Making stupid plans. Brushing hands and lips and hips and reluctantly parting when dawn broke and it was time for me to go.

After my shower I sat on the bed, buttoning up my shirt.

Lucho ran his hand lazily over my hip.

“You going to be okay here?” I asked. “I’ll take my shit with me. You just leave the room around eleven and find someplace nice to wait. Go eat our brunch. I’ll call when I’m on my way back.”

“That’s fine.” He murmured. “I’m sleeping in until then.”

“All right.” I kissed his temple. “’Bye, Luis. See you soon.”

His eyes opened and—as if he just remembered where I was going—he said, “You gonna be okay?”

I shrugged. “I made a promise. I’ll be okay.”

He nodded but looked unconvinced. “Call if you need anything.”

“Sure.” I stood and buckled my belt before jamming my feet into my boots. “Be good.”

“You want me to help carry boxes?”

“Nah, I got it.” I picked up two of the file boxes. Frowned and put them down. “Hang on a second. I’m gonna—”
Look inside them. Why the hell didn’t I do that right away?
“I’m going to see what’s in them.”

I pulled a file box open and looked through the contents. There seemed to be packets of T-shirts, socks, all generic stuff but useful, shrink-wrapped into bags. The second box contained used men’s clothing.

“They can’t wear any of this in prison, can they?”

“Maybe it’s for some after-prison outreach? One of those halfway houses?”

The third box contained battered shoes. I lifted one and something rattled inside. “Hey. There’s something in here.”

I upended the shoe and a cellphone fell into my palm.

“What the hell?”

Lucho sat up. “I’ll bet you Slade is smuggling shit into the prison.”

I looked down at the evidence in my hands, still confounded. “But I’m not taking these to the prison.”

“Whoever you’re giving the boxes to probably does it.” When I stared at him blankly, he said, “He’s probably giving these to the C/Os. Throw me one of those bags of T-shirts.”

I picked up a package and tossed it onto the bed. While I watched, he squeezed and fondled it, tongue out like he was concentrating hard. “Do you guys want to be alone?”

“No. Here.” He opened one package up and unfolded the shirts. A plastic baggie of pills fell out. “That’s what I thought. Oxy. I seen this shit in a documentary. All of this stuff probably has something hidden inside it. There’s big money in smuggling into the prisons.”

“And that fucker has my mother doing his dirty work?”

“Whoa. She’s just dropping stuff off at an address in town. Maybe she doesn’t even know?”