Chapter 6
It got a lot easier to breathe with Nash takin’ the reins after that night.
Patrick found he quite liked bein’ ordered around when the orders came from someone like Nash—self-assured and just a hair on the side of cocky.
He treated Patrick not too far off from how one treats a dog.
Fetch this. Fetch that. Sit. Lay down. Patrick’s head was pleasantly empty, not a thought or care in the world aside from his normal chores about the ranch and whatever Nash wanted.
Whether it was cookin’ dinner in nothin’ but an apron or kneelin’ at his feet while they watched trashy reality tv, it didn’t matter.
Patrick would do just ‘bout anything to keep hearin’ Nash call him a good boy.
Patrick’s bed got a lot warmer too. Nash took up sleepin’ in Patrick’s room—not that they slept much.
Patrick couldn’t complain though. Those tired, slow nights with Nash pressed up against his back, hand ‘round his waist while languidly thrustin’ into him, were some of his favorites.
Nash could be gentle and kind when he wanted to be, but when he got a bit rougher or spoke a tad sharper, somethin’ stirred inside Patrick that made him blush.
“Mornin’,” Nash yawned, comin’ up behind Patrick and wrappin’ his arms ‘round Patrick’s waist. The smell of mornin’ dew and the bitter chill of outside clung to Nash, sendin’ a shiver through Patrick. Nash kissed the side of Patrick’s neck. “Smells good, Baby.”
Patrick scoffed. “You say that every mornin’, and it’s the same thing we’ve been eatin’ since you got here.”
“You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or somethin’?”
“Couldn’t sleep worth a damn with you hoggin’ half the bed last night.”
Nash popped Patrick on his thigh, makin’ him jump. “Watch your tone, cowboy.”
“Find me a mirror then.”
“Someone’s fuckin’ feisty this mornin’.” Nash nipped Patrick’s earlobe. “Might be time for an attitude adjustment.”
Electricity shot down Patrick’s spine at the implication. Nash’s hand drifted ‘round Patrick’s waist, down across his crotch, then gripped his already thickening cock. Nash hummed against Patrick’s neck, strokin’ him through the fabric.
“You’ve got such a needy little cock, Baby. I’ve barely done a thing, and you’re already leakin’.”
“Can’t help it.” There was a whine to Patrick’s voice that made heat creep up his neck. “I ain’t used to being touched like this.”
“Maybe I should train you then. Keep you nice and worked up all day; make you count how many times I get you to the edge before I stop. How does that sound, Baby?”
“Like Hell.”
“Does it now?” Nash slipped his hand into the front of Patrick’s pajamas, hand icy cold, causin’ him to suck in a sharp breath. “Cuz I think it sounds like a good plan to fix this attitude of yours.”
Patrick closed his eyes, heart poundin’ in his ears. “Fuck, please, sir.”
“You’re always so easy in the mornin’, Baby. A few quick tugs and you’re ready to come.” Nash clicked his tongue. “Not today, though. You’re gonna earn your orgasm like a good boy.”
Nash stopped, hand hoverin’ over Patrick’s cock. Patrick let out a pathetic sound, balls achin’ and cock twitchin’. “Please, sir, I was so close.”
“You think you deserve to come after the attitude you just gave me?”
Patrick tongued the inside of his cheek then grumbled out a no, sir.
“What was that?”
“No, sir.”
“Good boy. That’s one. I expect you to count the rest throughout the day.”
And count Patrick did. Two was after breakfast while their plates were still on the table, and Patrick was white knucklin’ the chair and sayin’ two, thank you, sir between clenched teeth.
Three happened in the bedroom while Patrick was changin’ into work clothes and Nash’s devious fingers tweaked Patrick’s nipples and got him so close he was light headed.
After four, which occurred beneath one of the lone standin’ trees in the wide open pasture, Patrick didn’t think he could handle anymore.
His cock was so red and sensitive he could hardly walk without his britches rubbin’ him wrong.
Nash caught Patrick off guard in the barn and pinned him against the wall of an empty stall.
Dull, yellow light from the large overhead fixture barely touched the corner Patrick was backed into.
Nash covered Patrick’s mouth. His heart bucked in his chest at the hungry, dangerous look in Nash’s eyes.
“Shh, can’t go scarin’ the horses,” Nash whispered. His skilled fingers quickly undid Patrick’s belt.
Nash crudely shoved Practick’s jeans and boxers down to his mid thigh.
Patrick’s eyes rolled back at the sensation of Nash’s cold hand on his hot cock.
He fought to stay quiet, but it didn’t take long for muffled grunts and moans to fill the barn.
Sweat beaded across his forehead, body temperature creepin’ up with Nash pressin’ into him and workin’ his cock at the same time.
“You’re getting close ain’t ya, Baby? You gonna make a mess for me, Baby?” Nash teased. Patrick whined, hips jerkin’ upwards into Nash’s fist. He stopped strokin’ Patrick and smirked. “Go on, fuck my fist like a good boy.”
Patrick’s cheeks burned so badly they hurt, but he listened because he was a good boy.
He fucked Nash’s fist, whinin’ and moanin’ desperately.
Patrick’s abdomen clenched real tight, pressure from several denied orgasms buildin’ up.
As if sensing Patrick’s rapidly approachin’ orgasm, Nash jerked his hand away.
Patrick threw his head back against the wall, a desperate cry tearin’ from his throat.
Tears welled up on the waterline of his eyes as Nash began to play with the tip of Patrick’s overly sensitive cock.
“Poor thing,” Nash cooed. “Is this gonna make you cry, cowboy?”
Patrick couldn’t respond. Even if Nash’s hand wasn’t over his mouth, his head was too messed up, clouded with nothin’ but pure need and desperation. He hated how close he was to tears. Hated how Nash’s teasin’ made him feel good.
“On your knees, cowboy.”
Patrick dropped to his knees without a hint of hesitancy and looked up at Nash with wet lashes. Nash took out his cock, givin’ it a couple of strokes. Patrick parted his lips and a hoarse, barely audible please passed through them.
“You wanna suck my cock?” Nash asked, rubbin’ the tip across Patrick’s lips. “C’mon, cowboy. Say it. Say you wanna suck my cock.”
“I wanna suck your cock. Please.”
“Good boy. Stroke your pretty l’il cock while I use your mouth. Don’t come though, you haven’t earned it yet.”
Patrick closed his eyes, focusin’ on the weight of Nash’s cock on his tongue.
The salty taste that spread across his taste buds.
The huffy, deep moans that Nash made as he held Patrick’s head in place and fucked his mouth slow and steady, buryin’ Patrick’s nose in golden pubes with every forward thrust. With a loose fist, Patrick stroked his cock at the same pace of Nash’s movements, timin’ each upward stroke with every drawback.
He teetered on the edge of another orgasm.
What number was this? Six? That felt right with how tightly wound up and sensitive he was.
He felt like he would burst if he didn’t get to come this time.
“Eyes on me.” Nash tugged Patrick’s hair.
“Fuck. I could get used to seein’ you like this.
All teary eyed with those pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock.
” Nash smirked and gave a ruthless yank to Patrick’s hair that made more tears well in his eyes.
“Awe, don’t tell me the reason why folks call you ‘Baby’ is because you used to be a crybaby. ”
Tears rolled down Patrick’s cheeks, from humiliation or from the fact he was so fuckin’ close to the edge again, he couldn’t tell.
All he knew was he wanted to be good. Maybe if he was good enough, Nash would decide to stay.
He’d call his wife back north and tell her he was hired on long-term, but he’d still send money like he was supposed to.
He could unpack his things and put them in the dresser in his room so when Patrick’s parents visited, they could pretend they were nothin’ more than roommates.
But when his parents left, Nash could still crawl into bed with him, and Patrick could tuck himself real close in Nash’s side.
And it would be just the two of ‘em—out there where nobody could touch ‘em.
They could love on one another like normal couples do.
Nash pulled out of Patrick’s mouth then crouched down, grabbin’ his face and kissin’ him messily.
Patrick let him. Let him consume everything he was.
Soothe the burnin’ edges of the hole he made at the center of all Patrick was.
Numb the pain that lingered just beneath the surface because he knew what was to come.
Patrick grunted as his back made contact with the floor. Hay pricked at his exposed skin, but he ignored it like he ignored reality. Nash kissed down the side of Patrick’s face to his neck. “God, help me, I can’t get enough of you,” he groaned. “You think you can take me without any lube, Baby?”
Patrick choked, tongue tyin’ up and trippin’ over the simplest of words. “Maybe, I-I can try.”
Nash kissed Patrick hard and rough. “Such a good fuckin’ boy. Take those pants off for me.”
Nash sat with his back against the spare hay bales kept in the stall, watchin’ Patrick yank off his boots and kick off his pants.
Shame crept up Patrick’s throat at bein’ half dressed while Nash was still fully clothed.
Patrick chewed on his bottom lip, waitin’ to be told what to do. “Come sit on my lap, Baby.”
Patrick crawled into Nash’s lap. He grabbed Patrick by the nape of his neck, pullin’ him down for another brutal kiss. He grinded against Nash’s cock, moanin’ into his mouth. Heaven. This had to be what heaven felt like. Or at least damn near close.
“‘M gonna come,” Patrick warned.
“You think you’ve earned it? Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes, sir. I ain’t gonna catch an attitude again.”
“Cuz you’re my good boy, right?”
A whine caught in Patrick’s throat. “Yes, sir.”
“You wanna come with my cock inside you, Baby? Or like this?”
“God. I want you inside, please.”
“Lift up. Good, now slowly lower yourself down. That’s it”—Patrick sucked in a breath, holdin’ it as he felt the head of Nash’s cock press at his hole—“nice and easy. You’re doin’ such a good job, Baby. Fuuuuck. That tight li’l hole feels so fuckin’ good ‘round my cock.”
Patrick’s breath punched from his lungs, and he dropped his head to Nash’s shoulder.
It was too much—being face to face like they were with Nash’s sweet voice in his ear and rubbin’ small circles on his hip.
Patrick clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip, shoulders shudderin’ as he tried not to fall apart.
He wasn’t being good. He wasn’t ever gonna be good enough to make Nash stay if he started blubberin’.
But it was too late. Patrick had always been so God damn soft and weak.
“I know, shhh, it’s okay. Breathe, Baby.” Nash leaned back and cupped Patrick’s face. Patrick struggled to catch his breath, tears racin’ down his cheeks. Nash placed their foreheads together. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay. Just breathe for me.”
The words caught in Patrick’s throat, thick and tacky like molasses. He swallowed and blinked rapidly, tryin’ to get himself together. He closed his eyes, takin’ a deep but shaky breath. “Tell me I’m good,” he whispered, voice wet and weak.
Nash wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist, holdin’ him closer. “Oh, Baby,” he breathed, nuzzlin’ their noses together. “You’re more than just good. You’re breathtakin’. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I wish—”
Patrick kissed Nash before he could finish his sentence.
Patrick already knew what Nash was gonna say, and he didn’t want to hear it.
He wanted to pretend that Nash was gonna stay.
Act like he would wake up hot and sweaty with Nash layin’ on top of him in the middle of the scorchin’ summer.
Hold on to the childish hope that they would spend the rest of their lives on this ranch.
Just the two of them, happy and in love.
Did he love Nash? Was that why his insides got all tangled around him? Why he couldn’t think straight half the time when Nash smiled real sweet or touched him?
Patrick pushed all those thoughts to the back of his head and began to rock his hips.
The sensation stung slightly from the lack of prep and lube, but he didn’t mind.
It kept him grounded in the moment. Nash moaned into Patrick’s mouth, and he swallowed it greedily.
Slowly, the kiss degraded into tongue and teeth and pantin’.
Hands grabbed and pulled and touched, takin’ off clothes 'til Patrick was naked in Nash’s lap.
Nash leaned back against the hay bale, hands holdin’ Patrick’s hips and guidin’ his movements.
A sly smirk quirked up the corner of Nash’s mouth.
“What?” Patrick asked.
“I was just thinkin’”—Nash dropped a hand to Patrick’s cock—“about how good you look ridin’ me and what a good fuckin’ boy you are.”
Sweat slid down Patrick’s spine as he chased his pleasure from both directions. Patrick tilted his head back, eyes screwing shut as he willed himself not to come. “Keep talkin’,” he panted. “Please.”
“Look at you, rememberin’ your manners. God, I got lucky with you. You’re such a good fuckin’ boy for me, Baby. Think I’m gonna fill your tight little ass when I come. What do you say? You want me to come inside you?”
A chill went down Patrick’s spine, and he nodded, rockin’ faster. “Please.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Fuck, ‘m so fuckin’ close. Can I come, sir? God—fuck—please, let me come.”
“That’s it, Baby. Come for me, let me see you fall apart.”
“Nash!” Patrick rode through his orgasm, toes curlin’ and muscles tensin’.
Nash wrapped his arms around Patrick’s middle, thrustin’ roughly up into him, moanin’ and gruntin’ in his ear.
Patrick hid his face in the crook of Nash’s neck, whimperin’ something pitiful at the sensation of Nash comin’ inside.
Nash slumped against the hay bales, but refused to let Patrick go, holdin’ him tight against his chest. Patrick melted into the embrace, thinkin’ to himself that he was mighty happy for what felt like the first time in a good long while.