Chapter 10
One Month Later
Patrick, cigarette between his lips and arms crossed, leaned against the front of his truck as he watched the bus pull up to the stop, breaks quieter than they were last year.
The door opened with a long sigh, and people began to file out.
Patrick kept his eyes peeled for a familiar, worn out, black cowboy hat and golden hair.
His stomach twisted tighter with every person who wasn’t his that walked off the bus, but after what felt like an eternity, Nash Colby stepped off that bus lookin’ just as pretty as the first day they met.
Patrick’s breath caught in his throat as they made eye contact across the crowd. Not many people changed a whole lot in a year, yet Nash managed to be the exception—as he often was.
His hair had grown out to his shoulders, his skin was a shade darker than before—of course he’d chosen an outdoor job; he wasn’t the type to stay still for too long—and he’d filled out a bit more.
He was still just as pretty as the first day Patrick laid eyes on ‘im though. Nash would always be his pretty li’l thing.
Nash pushed through the crowd, and Patrick fought back a smile when he saw the bushy blond mustache beneath Nash’s nose. “Baby!” he shouted, a smile splittin’ his face clear in half. “Ain’t you a fuckin’ sight for sore eyes!”
There was so much commotion goin’ on around them that Patrick doubted anyone could hear or was even payin’ them a lick of attention, yet his eyes still darted ‘round to see if any heads turned in their direction. Nash grabbed the back of Patrick’s head and laid a fat, wet kiss right on his forehead.
Patrick pushed him away, swearin’ as he swiped at his forehead.
“Hell, Nash, don’t you know how to act in public?”
“Good to see you haven’t changed none, Baby.”
Patrick thumped Nash’s hat back, nearly knockin’ it off his head, and grumbled, “Get your ass in the fuckin’ truck.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me now.” Nash tossed his stuff in the back then got into the cab, slammin’ the door shut behind him. He grabbed Patrick’s face, forcin’ him to turn his head. “Cuz I sure missed you, Baby.”
Patrick’s skin was on fire, but he’d be a liar if he said that he hadn’t. He’d missed Nash like he was missing a part of himself. “I missed you too, darlin’.”
“Let’s go home, Baby.”
On the way back to the ranch, Nash rattled on about how he spent his time back home.
He managed to land a job with a small business that did a bit of everything that had to do with lawncare.
All spring and summer he spent haulin’ pinestraw, buildin’ retention walls, plantin’ bushes, trimmin’ trees, and weedin’ gardens.
It was the first time in almost a decade that he’d spent more than a couple months in his hometown, which meant his and the missus’ folks were happy to have him over for dinner just about every night.
Nash slapped his stomach, jokin’ that his mama’s cookin’ was the reason he’d put on so much weight despite workin’ like a dog.
Patrick didn’t say it, but he thought Nash looked good with a bit more meat on his bones.
Patrick barely got the truck parked before Nash was climbin’ out the cab while sayin’ that he couldn’t wait for some good ole fashion canned chili heated on a gas stove.
Patrick could only roll his eyes as he followed Nash to the front door.
As soon as the door swung open, Nash pushed inside, dropped his bags, and grabbed Patrick by the front of his jacket, yankin’ him close.
Before Patrick could protest, Nash’s lips were on his, and Patrick was helpless in the best way possible.
Nash pushed Patrick up against the wall, kissin’ down his jaw and along his neck. “God almighty, I’ve missed you. Missed how you tasted, how you sound. Fuck, I’ve missed all of you, Baby. You’re all I fuckin’ thought about for the past six months.”
“I know. I got your letters. Every single one of ‘em. Kept ‘em all too.”
“Yeah? Did you touch yourself readin’ those dirty letters I sent, Baby?” Nash rubbed Patrick’s jeans. “Stroke your pretty li’l cock while you thought about me?”
“Fuck.” Patrick closed his eyes, head thuddin’ against the wall.
Nash chuckled, dark and delicious, sendin’ a chill down Patrick’s spine. “Imagine if you had let me call, Baby. I could’ve talked you through it over the phone, listened to you fall apart to my voice.”
“God damn,” Patrick panted. “I wouldn’t have fuckin’ survived.”
“Yeah? You that desperate for me?”
“Don’t go gettin’ a big head.”
“Mm, someone’s got a bit of an attitude. Maybe you need a reminder for who’s in charge here.”
“Or maybe I need you to stop yappin’ and to hurry up and fuck me like I know we’ve both been cravin’ since you left.”
“You’ve gotten mouthy since last winter.” Nash’s teeth grazed Patrick’s skin as he kissed a trail up Patrick’s neck. “Good thing I like tamin’ bratty things like you.”
Need lassoed around Patrick’s spine, urgin’ him to buckle beneath Nash. Instead, Patrick let out a small, breathless laugh. “The only one of us that needs any tamin’ is you.”
“Is that so? I don’t know if you listened to a lick of what I said on the drive back, but in case you didn’t, I’ve settled down quite a bit because of you. Dare I say, you’ve made a lover outta me, Baby.”
Patrick sucked in a breath, head spinnin’ a mile a minute.
A lover. He’s made a God damn lover out of Nash fuckin’ Colby.
Patrick grabbed Nash’s face and kissed him hard, harder than he’d ever kissed him before, prayin’ that Nash understood what Patrick was tryin’ to say without havin’ to hear the words that he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.
Maybe one day, when the time was right, he’d tell Nash exactly how he felt.
Ask him to give up his little life up north with Natty Mae to stay down here on the ranch.
Hell, maybe they could even run away together and get their own ranch outside of Suncreek Ridge.
There were plenty of small towns where no one would know either of them, and they could live together without worry.
He’d ask Nash before he left for the warm season.
Right now, Patrick just wanted to enjoy being back together.
“I need you,” Patrick said into Nash’s mouth.
“Oh yeah?”
Patrick hated how that cocky tone of Nash’s made him harder than he cared to admit.
“Prove it.”
“What?”
Nash took Patrick’s chin between his finger and thumb. “Prove it. Get on your knees and kiss my boots, Baby.”
“You can’t be—”
“Oh, I’m serious.”
“I ain’t kissin’ your dirty boots.”
“C’mon now”—Nash stroked his knuckles across Patrick’s cheek—“be a good boy for me and kiss ‘em.”
Patrick buckled in a heartbeat. He sank down to his knees, maintainin’ eye contact with Nash who tilted his head back with a small smirk. “Go on, Baby. Prove how much you need me.”
Patrick kissed the top of Nash’s dark brown leather cowboy boots. The faint taste of mud lingered on Patrick’s lips. Nash hummed, runnin’ his fingers through Patrick’s hair. He leaned into the touch, sinkin’ into the hidden space deep within his mind. One that only Nash could get him to.
He shuffled forward on his knees then began to unbuckle Nash’s belt. Nash watched wordlessly, eyes shimmerin’ with desire and somethin’ else that Patrick couldn’t put his finger on. Somethin’ that made his heart flip. Somethin’ that looked a lot like we’ll have forever.
“Hold on.” Nash tugged on Patrick’s hair. “As much as I love seein’ you on your knees, I want you bent over the side of the couch so I can take a bit out of that juicy peach of yours.”
Patrick’s cheeks lit up like a bonfire, but he found himself moving to comply with Nash’s wishes.
He kicked off his boots then his jeans—he’d pick them up later—and bent, albeit awkwardly, over the arm of the couch.
He hid his face in the crook of his elbow, embarrassment and arousal fightin’ for dominance.
He tried to ration with himself that Nash had seen him in plenty of exposin’ positions before, but time had a way of makin’ old feelings resurface.
Nash kicked at Patrick’s ankles 'til he shuffled into a wider stance. Nash popped Patrick, and the sharp crack of skin against skin echoed in the quiet house, makin’ him flinch more than the actual impact itself.
“God, look at that fuckin’ recoil.” Nash grabbed and massaged Patrick’s ass. “You’ve got such a nice fuckin’ ass, Baby.”
Nash spread Patrick’s ass then, of all things, spit directly on his hole.
Patrick sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, mufflin’ a throaty moan as Nash ran his tongue across it.
He dug his nails into Patrick’s ass, moanin’ as he continued to tease Patrick with his tongue.
Patrick tried not to squirm, but the sensation of Nash’s wet, warm tongue pressin’ against him had his knees weak.
“Shit, Nash,” he moaned, spreadin’ his legs further apart. “I ain’t gonna last long with you touchin’ me like this.”
Nash bit Patrick’s asscheek. “You ain’t gonna come ‘til I say so. You’re gonna be a good boy and wait for me to fuck this perfect ass.”
“Not if you keep strokin’ me while you’re back there.”
“Mmm, maybe I should”—a finger pressed against Patrick’s hole—“start preppin’ your tight hole then.”
“Yes, please, sir.”
“There’s my good boy.” Nash spit again. “Go on, tell me how bad you want my fingers inside you.”
“God, you’re such an ass,” Patrick whined.
Nash stopped strokin’ Patrick then popped him hard. The stingin’ pain radiated through his skin, lightin’ it up with a euphoric buzz. “What was what?”
“Please, Nash, quit teasin’ so much,” Patrick begged, puttin’ an extra pout behind his words because he knew Nash liked it when he sounded pitiful. “It’s been too damn long. I need you, all of you, please.”
“You beg so pretty, Baby, how could I say no. Fuck, look at you openin’ up so nicely for me. Did you finger yourself while reading those letters, Baby?”
Slight discomfort shot up his spine as Nash worked two fingers into him. “Yes, sir. Couldn’t come no other way unless I did both.”
“Mmm, such a greedy fuckin’ boy. So desperate to be filled, ain’t that right?”
“Mhm, yes, sir, oh fuck, but just for you, nobody else. I only want you.” Patrick was ramblin’ and knew it, but he didn’t care because it was Nash, and Nash didn’t care if Patrick rambled. Nash didn’t care if he went on and on because he liked when Patrick talked, liked listenin’.
“My sweet boy.”
Patrick hadn’t even registered Nash’s fingers leavin’ him 'til he felt both arms wrap around his middle. Nash’s nose nudged against Patrick’s temple, murmurin’ soft praises in his ear while slowly easin’ into him.
Patrick couldn’t think, couldn’t hardly breathe.
Raw emotion mixed with overwhelming pleasure, makin’ it difficult to focus on anything but Nash completely surroundin’ him, consumin’ him.
He turned his head, strainin’ his neck to try and kiss Nash, needin’ to be close to him. Closer than this, infinitely closer, so close they merged into one, unable to tell where one ended and the other began. Patrick would never have Nash close enough.
“Baby,” Nash whispered against his lips, pullin’ away. “What’s wrong?”
“I just need you,” Patrick’s voice wavered. “I really fuckin’ need you.”
“You’ve got me, I’m here,” he assured, kissin’ Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m here.”
“I can’t touch you like this, can’t see you. Nash, I—” he choked on his own words, a small sob catchin’ in his throat.
“Oh, Baby, come ‘ere.”
Patrick turned ‘round, hidin’ in Nash’s embrace and swallowin’ down the sobs that shook his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I-I just—I couldn’t—”
“Shhh, it’s alright. Let it out, Baby. You’re safe with me.”
Whatever dam Patrick had built up over years and years of hearing: man up; boys don’t cry; pull it together; God damn crybaby; I’ll give you something to cry about if you don’t stop all that squalling; crumbled in seconds.
He fell apart, no longer scared about what would come after because he knew Nash would piece all the broken pieces back together while he was here.
Patrick would just have to mend whatever pieces Nash broke when he left again.