Chapter 10 #3
“How do you know that off the top of your head?”
“You don’t?” Malcolm’s face reddened. “Sorry. I did the math one day, and it stuck with me. And stop distracting me. We’re getting on that bull.”
“Fine.” Iggy eyed the shoulder of the fake bull with its slightly-depressed saddle area and horn that looked way too phallic not to make his inner twelve-year-old giggle.
No rope, only the plastic penis-horn to grip with your hands.
The rest was legs and core strength. “Maybe we should both sit on it first, before we turn it on. Get an idea of how it feels.”
Good grief, but all that sounded pretty damned dirty. Like they were about to climb onto one of those vibrating motel beds he’d only ever seen in movies.
“Makes sense.” Malcolm stepped over to the bull’s right side, then he held out his hand. “Come on, barkeep, I’ll give you a boost.”
“I can reach just fine, thank you very much.” He still took Malcolm’s hand briefly, offering a meaningful squeeze before releasing it.
Unlike a horse or even a carousel ride, the bull didn’t have stirrups to help you get up onto the saddle.
But Iggy was limber (and tall) enough to throw his left leg up and push off the ground with his right, hand gripping the pommel-dick-handle.
Somehow, he slid right up onto the bull.
It didn’t buck, it didn’t snort or spark, or blow smoke out of its fake nostrils.
It just sat there. Iggy released a breath and wiggled his hips.
Scooched forward to give Malcolm room. Malcolm made a show of studying the amount of space he had left and the lack of things to grip for his ascent.
The corner of his mouth wrinkled up like it used to when he was preparing to tackle a tough stage crew assignment, when all the direction he’d been given was “make it look like an old wooden farmhouse.”
Malcolm backed up three steps, bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, and then in two long strides, hopped right up on the bull’s back.
He slid forward, his groin pressing hard into Iggy’s ass.
Both hands grabbed Iggy by the hips and held tight, like they were about to start a long journey together on horseback.
“Not bad,” Iggy said, wiggling his butt just to hear Malcolm gasp. “Think you can do that while the bull’s moving?”
“Hope so. But if not, this is nice, too.”
“It is.” Iggy didn’t resist his body’s natural instinct to melt into Malcolm’s broad, muscled chest. His head tipped back to rest on Malcolm’s shoulder, and he closed his eyes.
Listened to the steady cadence of their breathing, and the faraway hum of the walk-in’s motor.
Felt the thump of Malcolm’s heart against his back.
The hands on his hips slipped forward to clasp together in front, wrapping him up in Malcolm’s capable arms.
A perfect moment.
“You scared?” Malcolm whispered.
“Not even a little.” Iggy hoped he meant more than just the bull.
This metal and rubber thing that had tormented his mind for years was just a thing, another foe to conquer, another bad memory he’d made worse in his mind.
What if he’d done the same with their relationship?
Allowed that final, awful night to fog up what had been almost two years of friendship, love, joy and devotion?
But he couldn’t find the words to say it.
Malcolm pressed his cheek against Iggy’s. “I like this too much.”
“I like this too. It’s not exactly a horse, but you okay?”
“Yeah. I know we said we’d ride this thing, but I’ll be fucked if I wanna get up right now.”
The thickening erection pressing into Iggy’s backside reinforced that comment in a glorious way.
For one brief, vivid moment, Iggy imagined them naked on this bull, writhing together, kissing messily from the side while Malcolm lined up his cock to slide home inside Iggy’s willing body.
The erotic way they’d ride the bull together, joined together, rocking toward a desperate climax.
His own jeans got painfully tight, his erection pressing hard against the pommel, but Iggy didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare break the spell and wake from his amazing daydream.
“I knew the answer to this when we were teenagers,” Malcolm whispered, “but have you ridden a horse since then?”
One of the things that had annoyed him about the other kids in and around Chance was how they bragged about owning horses, riding horses, or working with horses, even though there weren’t that many ranches.
And Iggy had bounced around from place to place so much, the closest he’d ever come to riding on an animal, wild or tame, had been an elephant at a state fair when he was eight.
The little saddle thing he’d been strapped into had rolled around so much from the elephant’s movements that he’d barfed almost as soon as he’d gotten down off the platform.
“Not a real horse, no.” Iggy opened his eyes. “A carousel horse definitely doesn’t count.”
“Depends on the carousel.”
“Steel Pier in Atlantic City?”
“Partly counts, but you do get points for visiting a famous location. I mean, Mom and I went to Ocean City, New Jersey, once not long after the divorce, but those kinds of parks have never been on my bucket list.”
Iggy couldn’t stop a shiver from tearing up his spine.
“Hey, what did I say?” Malcolm rubbed his chin on Iggy’s shoulder.
“I just don’t like that term. Bucket list. Darren always used to talk about the things on his bucket list, the places he wanted to go, the famous people he wanted to meet, and then the bastard killed himself.”