Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Coke felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He kept glancing at Dillon, trying to figure out whether Dillon understood, got the horror of who he was, what he was.
He had the sneaking suspicion that Dillon didn’t care. No, sir, his cowboy insisted on only seeing the good in him, in smiling at him when he glanced that direction.
Dillon leaned into him as they did the dishes, touched him as they fed dogs. No hesitation. No worry that Coke could see. Dill just couldn’t believe he’d ever done wrong.
God, he prayed. Let me deserve this. Let me be a good man.
“You’re thinking hard, babe. Want to tell me?” Dillon touched his cheek, surprising him by being right there again.
“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am that you aren’t looking at me like I’m a monster.” Because he deserved it. He buried Anthony—both in the sea and in his soul.
“Lucky?” Dillon shook his head. “You’re not a monster and never have been.”
He wasn’t sure about that. He’d seen unspeakable things, survived them. “I just keep praying that I make up for our sins.”
Now Dillon was frowning at him. “No. You pray for yours, sure. You’ve done enough to make up for someone else’s. You went to jail for him, for fuck’s sake.”
“They didn’t think he was strong enough.” Anthony hadn’t been. Not that it mattered in the long run.
“So?” Dillon put his hands on his hips, chin all jutting out. “They had no right to do that to you. You were a kid! You couldn’t even say no. That was fucked up.”
“Yeah.” And it had hurt more than anything than he had been able to imagine then. His brain was a lot sharper now. “It was.”
He reached out, not sure if Dillon wanted comfort or not.
Dillon came to him, hands on his chest. “I want to go beat them, babe. Your folks.”
“I… I don’t want to think about them. I don’t think they think about me.” He met Dillon’s eyes, needing Dillon to understand. “I walked away from Aaron that day, left him behind. It’s gone. My life started when I met Danny Scott and he let me ride.”
God, he’d been a shitty bull rider for all of three weeks before the bullfighting team had surrounded him and taken him in.
“I’m glad you did. I mean, I needed you to be here.”
“It’s been pretty good, hasn’t it? You and me?”
“Good doesn’t begin to cover it. Even if you have this huge extended family of batshit crazy people.” Dillon grinned, lines easing around his eyes and mouth.
“Yes, well. I can’t really bitch. I sorta chose them.” And comparatively? They weren’t bad.
“I know! Freaks, all of them. Good thing I’m social.”
“Liar,” Coke dared to tease. Dillon could be downright hermit-like.
“Not so! Well, okay, you’re way better at the constant company thing. I guess that makes sense, huh? You weren’t ever alone.”
“No. Not really. Sometimes when I was at the house, but it didn’t last.” He wasn’t good at it.
“I can take it.” Dillon thumped his own chest like a Brazilian about to tie his hand in the rope.
Coke laughed and grabbed Dillon up, kissed him hard. “I damn near died, scared that you wouldn’t love me no more.”
“Never, ever worry about that.” Dillon clung to his arms, cheeks hot, blue eyes heating up, too. “I’m in for the long haul.”
“Me too.” He’d known that since Dillon had come home from being with David. Well, not with-with, but in the same room-with. Even though, to Coke’s credit, there had been naked shower with-ness. And Dave calling Dillon Lonnie, which Dave didn’t do no more.
“So, what do we do now?” Dillon batted those long, blond-tipped lashes at him. That should have been so silly.
“Now we just get on with living, I reckon. We love each other hard and we let Aaron and Anthony be dead.”
“I like it. A lot.” Dillon kissed him again, this time with real intent, he reckoned. “Is it weird, to want to make out on Beau’s bed?”
“It ain’t Beau’s any more than it’s mine or Tag’s. We’re equal owners.”
“You have investments everywhere, don’t you?”
“Investments? Nah. I got land.” Land was just what it was.
“Uh-huh. I will organize your shit if it’s the last thing I do. Former accountant.” Dillon dragged him toward the bed.
“Mine.” That was the important part, right. “I don’t deserve you, but you’re still my own.”
“Yep,” Dillon said, sounding cheerful as hell. “Now you need to prove it.”
“Prove what? That you’re mine?” He chuckled and grabbed Dillon’s ass, steering him the rest of the way to the bed.
“Uh-huh.” Dillon flopped down onto the sheets and spread his arms and legs. “Alllll yours.”
“I like it.” Coke stood at the foot of the bed and gave Dillon a once-over. “It going to be weird if I fuck you into next week? I’d hate to be strange, but I’d hate missing a chance at your ass even more.”
“No. Making up requires hot monkey sex.” Dillon wiggled out of his shirt and started on his shorts. “Dogs are in the little dog run. I fed you. Beau and Sam won’t stop by for two more hours…”
“I could get you off three times in two hours, guaranteed…” Coke felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him, like his chest had remade with more room inside. It was dizzying and made him feel young, down deep.
Younger than he’d been since he was fifteen.
He laughed for the sheer joy of it, and Dillon laughed with him, always willing to find joy. He reached down and grabbed one foot, pulling the flip-flop right off.
Dillon kicked off the other one and the shorts went flying, too. Naked clown. So pretty, with all that lean muscle and smooth skin.
He pondered where to start, finger slipping along the faint trail to glory that wandered down Dillon’s flat, perfect belly.
Dillon sucked in a breath, muscles working as all mirth fled. “Babe. Yeah. Need you.”
“Good.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of Dillon’s cock, just a single caress before he crawled up along his cowboy’s body. His neck wasn’t bendy enough to suck Dillon like this, but there was more than enough that he could do to make Dillon happy.
He got their cocks together and rubbed, letting the tip of Dillon’s dick catch against his. Dillon made this great noise—all happy need, like there wasn’t nothing the man wanted more, ever.
Then those long legs wrapped around him, Dillon lifting up to get more.
He got one hand under Dillon’s ass, and he dragged them together, pulled them so close that air couldn’t slip through.
Dillon grunted, head thrown back, pressing up and up.
He did love how his cowboy needed him, with his whole heart. His neck ached, and damned if Dillon didn’t reach up, rubbing it. The best way to pay Dillon back was a deep, harsh kiss.
When they broke for air, Dillon panted, clinging to him. “Babe, I— Let me get on top, huh?”
“Yeah.” Good thing Dillon liked the ride. Coke rolled to his back, and Dillon took some time getting him settled, pillows under his shoulders and head. “You spoil me.”
“I do. You deserve it.” Dillon grabbed his cock, rubbing it up and down, getting him back into the action.
He didn’t bother to argue. Dillon wouldn’t care what he said on that front. Instead, he stroked that fine skin, admiring with his hands as well as his eyes while Dillon put on a show for him.
Please let me be good enough to deserve him. The thought filled him and he gave it up, trusting that it would be heard.
Dillon smiled for him, then bent to lick his cock, getting him good and wet.
That went a long way to dissolving any sort of thoughts he might have about anything. Dillon filled all of his senses. All of his empty spaces.
His cock had gone from interested to aching, and his hips rolled up, desperate for connection. Dillon gave it to him, sucking him in deep, really bobbing up and down.
“Want. Want you. Cowboy.” He bit the words out, his teeth clenched tight.
Dillon popped up, nodding and wiggling into place over his hips. “Just let me get ready for you, babe.”
“God yes.” That was one of his favorite sights on earth. He watched Dillon get his fingers wet, then reach back to touch himself, opening up that tight little hole.
The view was perfect—and his. He kept stroking himself, hand moving nice and easy, dragging on his shaft. He just needed to keep it going until— Bingo. Dillon swarmed over him, grabbing his dick again to keep it steady.
“In me,” Dillon stated. “Now.”
“Demanding cowboy,” he teased. Still, he arched up, taking what he was given with both hands.
“I am. Pushy. Know what I want.” The head of his cock lodged at that heated entrance, and Dillon bore down, those blue eyes almost feverish.
“Wha…?” Coke’s eyes crossed as he sank into pure heat and he grabbed Dillon’s hips, dragging him down on his cock.
“Uhn.” Dillon undulated, hips rolling, thighs spreading wide around him. “Harder.”
He could do harder. He used hands and hips to drive into Dillon, to prove that he was more than strong enough to give his cowboy what was needed.
Body clamping down around him, Dillon rode hard, all balance and grace. He could have been a hell of a bull rider. He was a better lover.
Coke groaned and bent his knees, slamming up into Dillon with all he had.
“That’s it. Oh, Coke.” Dillon braced against his chest and moved faster, hand reaching to touch that hard cock.
“Yeah.” He gritted his teeth, his shoulders pulling his neck up off the pillows.
“Easy, babe.” Dillon bent to kiss him, which shifted the angle, made it easier.
“Need. Fuck, need you.”
“I know. I want. Oh, babe.” Dillon lost the rhythm, panting, jerking madly.
He shot about two seconds before Dillon did, the act damn near cramping his belly. Coke clamped his hands down on those lean hips and yanked Dillon down, filling that tight hole deep.
Which was when Dillon gave it up for him, shooting over his stomach and chest.
He slumped back, blinking like the world’s biggest owl. “Damn.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dillon laughed out loud. “Better.”
“God, yes.” Why hadn’t they just started with sex? Coke guessed sometimes a man had to talk on things, but this was sure more fun.
Dillon settled down against him, heavy and solid and warm.