Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Whoever said roosters only crowed at dawn, were either liars or really good rooster salesmen.
It wasn’t unusual to hear their roosters going off at all hours, waddles wobbling with glee. Aiden had never met a rooster that abided by a schedule and would just as soon not have the bastards around. But it wasn’t a rooster that dragged him from his sleep this morning.
A sharp whinny had him jerking awake—although to say he slept would be an exaggeration. It was closer to prolonged blinking. He rubbed his gritty eyes only to look up and see Eagle glaring at him from across the aisle. Aiden knew that look. That was his ‘you’re late for breakfast asshole’ look and Aiden had never been happier to see it.
As he felt the blood returning to his limbs, he tried to get his bearings. To the left he could hear Sugar sniffing around the stacked hay, no doubt searching for some poor rodent to harass.
The last thing he remembered, he and Ethan had been sitting against the wall, watching Eagle and trying to keep themselves awake. Ethan had been talking about his brother’s wedding. Aiden said he’d never been to a wedding and then…nothing. He must have fallen asleep.
His spine twinged in protest as he pushed himself up. With a yawn, he glanced over to see Ethan resting up against a feed bin. Arms crossed, head lolled back, he was in the most uncomfortable position because he’d allowed Aiden to lay on him. He’d been draped over Ethan all night, soaking in his heat and comfort without even realizing it. And Ethan had let him. He would have been well within his rights to elbow him off or leave. After Eagle turned a corner around ten, he could have gone home. Told Aiden to call if anything changed.
Aiden needed him, so he came. And then he stayed.
Ethan always stayed. When Aiden had been crying in Sugar’s fur because he’d seen Billy and Everett for the first time. When he drank too much and nearly died. When he tried to say goodbye after the bar and didn’t want to say goodbye. He stayed even when Aiden told him not to. When he spat and called him dumb. He stayed when there was nothing for him to stay for.
Ethan stayed for Aiden.
And as the warm glow of morning caught his dark lashes and the thick lock of hair that fell between eyebrows that weren’t symmetrical, Aiden realized he never wanted Ethan to leave.
Because Ethan made the winter less cold. He made chores bearable. He made Aiden smile and whenever he was around, Aiden felt like he could breathe. Like that knot in his chest, the one that kept him tethered to his shame, didn’t have anything to moor itself to. It fell away and left nothing but Aiden behind. Just him and the things he was allowed to want.
And he wanted Ethan. In ways he’d never wanted anyone, he wanted Ethan. As terrifying a realization as it was exhilarating. Aiden waited for the inevitable disgust, the horror and hate to come flooding it, but it couldn’t. Not when Ethan stayed.
Not when he called him baby as easy as breathing. And maybe they weren’t anything. Maybe it was an accident. Aiden didn’t care. Not when he could exist here, with Ethan, in a space all their own where things like labels and hate and wrong didn’t exist.
Aiden didn’t care.
Aiden, who spent so much time caring what they’d say. What they’d think of him. He spent so much goddamn time caring about everyone else he never stopped to consider what he cared about.
Right now, it was the flush of a winter morning on Ethan’s cheeks and the flutter of hay on his jacket as he exhaled. It was the twitch of an eyebrow as he almost woke and the messy way his hair was sticking straight up. The long fingers curled around his arms as he hugged himself in sleep.
As if sensing the scrutiny, Ethan’s eyes opened. There was a moment, before his eyes focused and his mind caught up with him, that Ethan simply smiled at Aiden. Like he was saying goodbye to the remnant of a sweet dream, hoping the parting will linger if he fights to sleep just a little bit longer.
“You stayed,” Aiden surprised himself by saying.
Ethan blinked the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself up. “Why would I leave?”
Because permanence is a luxury Aiden has never had. When even the land under his feet had an expiration date and he was too afraid to plant roots in borrowed ground. Ethan was asking him why would I leave like he genuinely believed it was a choice. Like it was simple.
Maybe it was.
Maybe it was as simple as choosing to stay. Choosing to ignore all the voices in the back of his head that said he should care, because while they were busy telling him he was wrong, Ethan was making him feel right. Giving him a place to exist in his skin. On ground that was as solid and steady as he was.
And maybe it was time Aiden started to choose.
Ethan gasped when Aiden kissed him. For a moment he didn’t do anything but blink, slow, like he wasn’t sure this was real or if he was still dreaming. But then Aiden grabbed him by his jacket, sliding into his lap and that was it. Ethan was kissing him breathless, pushing himself off the wall so he could close the distance between them.
He let Aiden lead. Usually, Ethan had his hands in his hair or on his face, guiding him. Showing him the way they fit together, but not this time. This time he splayed his hands on Aiden’s back, supporting him while he stumbled through kissing him. Clumsy, and with less bravado than he had when he climbed into his lap. It was slow, not unlike someone walking down a dark hallway. They knew the way but still crept forward, one hand in front to keep from running into something.
Ethan groaned. Something low and guttural, hands digging into Aiden’s back like he was struggling to keep them still. It was like throwing a match on gasoline, and the flames that erupted in Aiden quickly burnt away any hesitation.
Rather than kissing, he began chasing. He sucked Ethan’s lower lip into his mouth, nibbled on it until he hissed—in pleasure or pain—and Aiden was able to lick into his mouth.
Aiden thought about kissing a lot as a teenager. Lying awake at night, alone in the quiet with nothing to keep his thoughts in check, he would think about how to kiss? And does it really feel as good as people made it seem? It couldn’t. He’d curled his hand, thumb pressed to the side of his pointer finger, and kissed it. Even closed his eyes. But he didn’t feel any kind of way. Except maybe embarrassed.
Once, he even pictured kissing Everett. He got as far as thinking about looking into his pretty blue eyes and then he had to stop. Jerk himself away from a fantasy that felt so wrong. Like he was violating his friend by even contemplating it.
Now he understood. It wasn’t the brush of lips. Or the heat from their bodies fizzling on lips chafed and sensitive, or the exchange of breaths. It wasn’t even the tangling of tongues or the smell of sleep he could only find because his nose was pressed so close.
It was the tangible answer to a question that could never be asked with words.
And oh how Aiden asked. Ethan answered.
Aiden ripped Ethan’s shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants. The starched material felt crisp under his fingers. Caught on his callouses, strained against the buttons. Ethan hissed when his cold hands slipped up his ribs, but he didn’t move away, didn’t even stop kissing Aiden.
Parting for breath, Aiden leaned back, and found Ethan looking up at him. His eyes were dark, dilated under quivering lashes. Lips red, raw, and swollen where they parted around shallow breaths. He was beautiful and Aiden hated all those voices that made him think otherwise.
Because they said that kissing Ethan would send him to hell, but he had to question if they’d ever truly seen heaven. Because on his lips, between one exhale and the next, Aiden was closer to salvation than he’d ever been between dusty pages on a pew.
They said and Aiden had listened.
But he wasn’t listening anymore.
“Aiden, are you?—”
He answered Ethan with a kiss. His fingers were thick, fumbling on buttons he wasn’t used to unbuttoning from this angle. Skin he’d never seen, but knew he was meant to, opened up to him. Framed by the crisp lines of his dress shirt, Aiden bent down to kiss his prayers. Leave behind bruises on the altar of Ethan’s church. Flickering Votive candles.
Ethan’s hands grew insistent, sliding down Aiden’s back to cup his ass, dragging him forward. He stuttered when their erections brushed, hot and insistent. Aiden couldn’t even blame it on morning wood. Digging his teeth into Ethan’s collar bone, he rocked his hips.
“Aiden, God baby, please. Please, can I touch you?”
He huffed against the teeth marks he left behind. “I’ll bury you on the back forty if you don’t.”
Ethan ripped open his belt. Must be a medical professional thing because his hands didn’t even shake when he unzipped his jeans. His hand was warm when he plunged it into his pants, cupping his cock in a way that made Aiden bunk like a bronc at the rodeo.
No one had ever touched him before, and it was like Ethan could sense it. His frantic groping turned soft. Gentle, barely there touches like he was trying to coax him, and every time Aiden gasped and shuddered, he kissed him. Dragged his attention back to those salvation lips before teasing him with sinner’s hands.
He teased up Aiden’s shaft, tickling under the head of his dick, teasing at the slit with his thumb with every upstroke. Between the warmth, the friction just this side of too dry, and the twist of his wrist Aiden was losing his mind.
His thighs shook as his orgasm built. It was embarrassingly quick. Aiden didn’t want it to end.
“I want—” he gasped, pressed to Ethan’s lips, breaths quick as he tried to convert feelings to thoughts.
“Anything,” Ethan promised.
“Want to see you. Touch you.” Aiden leaned back, fingers tracing along the waist of Ethan’s pants. Ethan took his hand and pressed it flat, slipping his fingers past fabric until they brushed against a wiry thatch of hair.
Everything was surreal. Like the contrast had been upped, colors muted and softened, his world narrowing down to just his fingertips and the electric connection from them to his dick. His heart rabbited against his chest as he finally got a hold of Ethan’s cock. It was thick and heavy, different than the way his own felt in his hand. He couldn’t explain why, and it made no sense, but it felt better.
His fingers curled against the velvety shaft, and he inhaled in wonder when he felt how hard he was. Ethan was hard because of him. Pumping slowly, he mapped out Ethan by touch. Found the sweet spots by shuddering gasps and rucking hips. Belatedly, Aiden realized he was teasing him, and he liked it. Liked the way Ethan seemed to be losing the control he always had such a tight grip on.
Then Ethan was yanking down their pants with a little shimmy and then their cocks were beside each other, touching, and it was like everything he’d ever known about pleasure had been a lie. A paltry treat in the face of a feast.
Ethan’s cock was longer than his, proud above a thatch of trimmed dark hair. There was a thick blue vein running along the underside and all Aiden could think was I want to lick it the moment he saw it, and it was such a foreign thought that he was left stupefied. Hand paused where it was loosely grasping Ethan’s shaft.
Aiden’s tip was wet and sensitive, leaking like it also wanted to lick that vein. Ethan ran his finger through it, letting the pad of his finger smear his precum like fingerpaints. Pleasure zinged through him and he curled inward, forehead dropping to Ethan’s shoulder. Hot breath rolled across his ear in a huff, a vicious little chuckle, right before he did it again.
Then Ethan wrapped those long, elegant fingers around both of their cocks and began to pump. Aiden gasped, hands flailing uselessly as he fought the urge to slam his hips forward, seeking more friction. He shifted and his dick dragged along Ethan’s, sliding slick across his skin, and he groaned.
Ethan buried his nose in Aiden’s hair. “Fuck, just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.”
No one had ever called him pretty, and Aiden didn’t have the bandwidth to ask him what he was talking about, not when he picked up momentum and did a little twist at the end and Aiden was gone.
He cried out, voice slamming into the rafters as he came. It was different than his usual orgasms, where they started at his toes and crawled up his legs, exploding out of him. This was an implosion. It began as a little spark deep in his gut and then he shuddered, curling against Ethan before his entire body seemed to break apart.
Even his vision whited out as he breathed against Ethan’s neck, his entire body buzzing. For what seemed like forever, all he could do was breathe. His heart was beating so fast it was difficult to catch his breath. His limbs shook, fingertips numb as he slowly came back to himself. By the time he was able to catch his breath, he realized there was cum cooling on both of their stomachs and Ethan wasn’t faring any better.
His head was tipped back against the wall, eyes closed, sticky hands clinging to the sweaty skin on Aiden's back. Eyes bleary, Aiden was unable to life his head off Ethan’s shoulder. Twisting his head, lips smearing against his neck, he huffed.
“Need a cigarette?” he croaked, voice sounding like he’d crushed it under the tractor.
“Huh?” Ethan grunted, unsticking his hands from Aiden’s skin so he could wipe them off on his pants.
“Don’t people smoke after sex?” Aiden sounded a lot more confident than he felt. Really, he had no idea what he was talking about, it was just too easy when he was boneless like that. His jaw felt unhinged, unable to stop the post-nut thoughts from slipping past.
“Used to,” Ethan said as he lifted a hand to stroke Aiden’s cheek. “Told you I was quitting.”
Aiden hummed, leaning into Ethan’s touch. “Why?”
“You don’t like them.”
That had Aiden lifting his head. He wavered a little until Ethan’s big hands caught him by the hips. His head was still resting against the wall, but his eyes were open. He watched Aiden lazily, lips curled ever so slightly.
“Hoped you’d kiss me more if you didn’t mind the taste.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Seems like my dastardly plan worked.”
Aiden chewed his lip and looked away from Ethan. He didn’t know what to say to that. His mind was lagging from his orgasm, blood still hanging out in his downstairs brain. He’d never minded kissing Ethan before. The taste of nicotine wasn’t pleasant, but it was memorable. Lingering on his lips and in his mouth long after Ethan left him jelly legged and spluttering. But he couldn’t deny that he liked being able to taste Ethan with nothing but their morning breath between them.
He cringed as he rubbed his face. Aiden needed sleep if he was thinking like that.
Bracing himself on the wall, he got to his feet. Tucking himself away, he felt Eagle’s glare on his back. The gelding had probably not enjoyed the show and was grumpy about being stuck in his stall.
Sorting himself out, he tried to peel the shirt from his stomach but the drying cum was like adhesive. Grimacing, he looked around for his jacket.
“Hey,” Ethan called softly, catching Aiden’s hand. “Let me clean you up.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Yeah, but I do.” Ethan looked a little sheepish, his thumb rubbing along the thin skin of Aiden’s wrist. “I need to take care of you.”
Aiden would like to say it was the sudden vulnerability in Ethan—the way his eyes darted away whenever he caught them, or the slump to his shoulders. He’d like to say he agreed as a favor to Ethan.
But the truth was harder for him to accept. The truth was that he wanted Ethan to take care of him. Just for a little while. He could have it if he didn’t think about it.
Ethan had a tattoo.
Aiden knew that. Somewhere in the back of his mind where information like Mendel and his plants were stored, he knew Ethan had a tattoo. He’d seen the ink peeking out from under rolled up sleeves. A tease, but not the full picture. Never the full picture. Winter prevented that. Thick coats ate up every inch of vulnerable skin. Obscuring the things that Aiden would like to know.
But he could see it now.
Bathed in the low light from the cracked bathroom door, surrounded by skin rosy from a quick scrubbing, the black lines lay stark where they hugged the curve of his bicep. It caught his eye the moment Ethan stepped out of the bathroom with just a pair of Aiden’s shorts, skin still tacky and hair falling into his eyes. Now he couldn’t stop looking at it.
He wanted to trace it with his fingers. Close his eyes and see if he could find it. Like a blind man reading braille, see if he could map it out from memory of if the skin felt different where the ink had healed.
Ethan had insisted on getting some sleep. He dragged them to the empty bunkhouse with Sugar in tow. While Aiden fed her, Ethan took a quick shower and then commanded he do the same. He didn’t suggest taking a shower together and Aiden didn’t know how to feel about that. Didn’t they cross some kind of line? The line where he’d seen Ethan’s dick before the tattoo on his arm had been crossed and he was moving in the blank spot of a map. A place no Cartographer had ever discovered and now he was directionless, wondering if the compass still pointed north or if he was in some new kind of polarity.
Did he even want to shower with Ethan? He wasn’t sure. Even when he lingered in the shower, reading the back of his 3-in-1 soap hoping to find the answers somewhere between the conditioner and body wash. Showering with someone felt invasive. More so than grinding against each other in the barn. Like that could be excused by horniness. An inevitability that they’d run into. But showering with someone felt decisive. Taking off their clothes, turning on the water, waiting until it was hot, stepping in, sharing the spray because it was too narrow for them both to get wet at the same time. There were a dozen purposeful steps to get there, all done sober and without excuse.
And now he was lying on his narrow bunk, staring down at Ethan’s tattoo and still wondering if he was allowed to touch it. There was an extra bunk, Ethan could be sleeping in unsullied sheets, but he crawled into Aiden’s. Lifted the blankets and scooted over until his back hit the wall and Aiden slid in, keeping himself pressed against the railing, trying not to touch Ethan because he didn’t know if he could.
But he wanted to. Even as Ethan’s eyes drooped and he drifted off, one hand under the pillow and the other resting in the space between them, fingers slightly curled until they made dimples in the sheets. The blanket was only pulled up to his hips, leaving his top half exposed.
He hadn’t said a word when Aiden dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, just watched him with that smirky expression he had. When his eyes were half lidded but his lips were curled with mischief. Like he was seeing right through Aiden’s insecurities but allowing them to go unchecked out of the goodness of his heart. Ethan didn’t even mention the sliver of space between them, just huffed a little laugh and fell asleep with his damp hair dripping onto the pillow.
It took him a while to figure out what the tattoo was. Taking up most of his bicep, it was a black and white canine skull with flowers. The petals grew from cracks and sutures in the skull and between the teeth, curling around the head like a crown. It was beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Ethan whispered, even though they were both awake and the door was locked. Maybe he didn’t want to disturb Sugar, who was sleeping on the rug beside the fireplace.
“Yes.”
Ethan shifted to look at his arm, as if he hadn’t seen it before. A small smile flickered across his face. “I got it because?—”
“I know why you got it.” Aiden cut him off, eyes glued to the tattoo. “The flowers are for your grandmother’s garden. It died, but in death there is life. You’re hoping it’ll come back.”
For the first time since Aiden had met him, Ethan was speechless. His arm held out at an odd angle, twisted so they could see the tattoo, but his attention was on Aiden. There was no hint of mischief on his face.
It felt strange to be the one to knock Ethan off kilter. It was normally the other way around.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Or maybe I just liked the way it looked.”
“Or maybe you’re an ass.”
Laughing, he closed the distance between them and kissed Aiden. Easy as breathing, with his lips curved in a smile and eyes open. Soft and chaste, like kissing him was natural.
“A possum.”
Aiden peeked up at him. “What?”
“You remind me of a possum.” Ethan laughed at the look on Aiden’s face. “You’re all hissing and bitey until you get really scared. Then you play dead.”
He smacked him, grunting when Ethan caught his hand and used it to jerk him closer. It was difficult to fight in the narrow space, but Aiden kept trying to kick at him until Ethan tangled their legs up and had him wrapped up completely, head resting on his chest and face screwed up in indignation.
As much as he wanted to keep protesting, Ethan had a point. One Aiden was never going to acknowledge.
“I can’t believe you called me a rodent.”
“Marsupial,” Ethan corrected, poking Aiden in the stomach. “They have pouches.”
Whatever look Aiden had on his face must have been hilarious because Ethan laughed so hard it nearly threw Aiden off the bunk. His head tossed back, eyes wrinkled closed, and mouth open. From where Aiden was laying, he could see the full length of his neck. Long and elegant, veins prominent under his wind chapped skin.
Aiden was struck with the sudden and strange desire to bite him, so he did. Pushed himself up with toes buried in the mattress and sank his teeth just below the cut of Ethan’s jaw. Ethan gasped, hands flying to Aiden’s hip to hold him still.
“See? Bitey.”
Aiden hummed and rested his head on the meat of Ethan’s shoulders, fingers trailing over the ink of his tattoo, tracing the lines. He fell asleep with Ethan’s fingers buried in his hair and the world locked outside.