Samuel
SAMUEL
The heat bore down on us, casting my entire back and neck with a burning ache. I had to keep adjusting my hat to make sure the sun didn't scorch my exposed skin and wondered how it could be so much more brutal away from the ranch. It wasn't like there were buildings or amenities to take the edge off the desert heat, or it hadn't seemed that way anyway. Apparently, there was a significant difference, enough that I could feel myself wilting despite it still being a couple of hours away from the hottest part of the day.
My comfort wasn’t helped by the company I was forced to keep. The heat had done nothing to improve Ambrose's attitude, but it hadn't done much to worsen it, either. In fact, despite how miserable the day had been so far, he was completely unaffected as far as I could tell. Clearly, he was better suited for trudging through the desert than I was, which put him level with the horses that were bred for it.
Though I’d still attest that his stubbornness was more closely related to an ass than a horse.
"Doing okay over there?" he asked in what was probably meant to be a calm, laid-back manner, but I could sense a note of smugness.
"Yes, I'm doing fantastic," I said, knowing full well my face was red and my hair was stuck to my forehead. Although it could be dry, this part of the desert was apparently humid enough to make moisture stick to me in an incredibly uncomfortable way. "I'll survive just fine."
I had survived many things, though I wouldn't call them pleasant. There was a vast difference between living and surviving, and I’d grown used to doing the latter while keeping an eye out for the former. Not that I’d found a long-term way to live, but I was determined to find it eventually, no matter how long it took.
"You're not looking great," he said, and I now had confirmation that he was enjoying my discomfort. Try as he might to act otherwise, I knew the man had a less than honorable amount of spite inside him. Now, if only I could find a sense of humor and enjoyment of the nice things in life, I might actually like him.
He looked damn good atop a horse, confident and smug as we rode, tracking animals I knew about but didn't know how to deal with.
"Well, I can't say the same about you," I said, looking at him with a smirk. He might be awkward and embarrassed about his inclination that went against the norm, but I most definitely did not. And if that just happened to be a convenient way for me to take the wind out of his sails when he was trying to get the better of me, then all the better. The only way it would possibly be better was if he gave up those stupid morals of his and took off his clothes to enact the things he wanted to do to me.
It's not like I ever claimed to have dignity, and a good-looking man, no matter how infuriating, irritating, or even a little respect-worthy, was going to make me less willing to have sex after the dry spell I'd been having.
One even drier than this accursed place.
As sure as the day was hot and dry, I watched the first patch of color rise to his cheeks as he curled his lip and snapped his face away. As if that was enough for me not to have seen the way his eyes widened in surprise while the dilating of his pupils gave away his interest. As if I hadn't seen the way he'd stared far too long at my body that first time I'd bathed in weeks and then, oh so casually, was forced to look away from me. As if I couldn't feel the energy vibrating off him as he tried to restrain himself from choking me because I got on his nerves and pinning me to the wall because he wanted me on something else.
"Do you have a comment for everything?" he asked annoyedly.
"Most of the time, and a plan for most things."
"Really now?"
"Really."
"And if I were to kick you out of your saddle?"
"Good luck, I know how to ride. You're more likely to upset the horse than get me out of the saddle, and we both know you aren't going to risk upsetting the horse."
"And if I just...left you the next time we take a break?"
"You wouldn't. You might think you hate me, but you'd never do something that cruel. Your conscience would never allow it."
"You would?"
"Depends if the person deserved it."
"Person?"
At that, I chuckled. “If you think women are incapable of being as cruel and vicious as men, then it's probably a good thing you've never looked twice at one for a wife."
He shot me a sharp look. “And if I did feel inclined to leave you?"
I shrugged. “I'd hopefully find my way back to town, plead my case that the heat and thirst drove me so mad I couldn't figure out which way to go, and that's what led me away from you. Even if you got there first to say I betrayed you or tried to hurt you, there's not many that would deny this heat could drive one mad."
"You're that confident you could find your way back?" he asked in one of the rare moments where he sounded genuinely curious.
"Places out this way don't venture too far from water, even if they lay roots a bit away. Rapture isn't far from a river. I know that much from when I was taken there. And if they're smart, they did it down river, so follow the river down and eventually...I’d find a way."
"Doesn't do much for your 'mad from no water' story, though."
"True. But water is more important than food, and maybe I wouldn't have to go into town. Just live long enough to figure out the next step."
At that, he grew silent. I thought maybe I’d found some unexpected way to piss him off before he looked at me again. "Is that how you live? Going from one step to the next?"
Against my better judgment, I bristled indignantly. "And how do you live? Living from day to day, following the same routine? Following what's given to you instead of what you can make?"
"And what have you made?" he shot back with surprising speed. "You're stuck here with me. With a man who don't like you and will shoot you dead if you try anything funny. So tell me, how are you doing any better?"
"And how are you? You can't find it in yourself to say anything that isn’t what you think your daddy might like," I shot back because, surprised as I was, words and the barbs that came with them were natural to me. "All you do is live under his shadow and hope your brother doesn't find a way to drag you down."
I wasn't surprised to see his eyes flash with a sudden spark of rage, mouth twisting in fury, lips parting. Only for his lips to press into a thin line as he jerked his eyes away to look anywhere but at me. What surprised me was the moment right before he looked away. It had been just a spark, but it hadn't been of hate or fury...it had been hurt. I had absolutely intended to cause pain with my words, but knowing I had left my gut squirming and pressure in my chest that I didn't like.
I was left not only with the silence but had to live with the fact that it existed because I’d let my anger get the better of me. If there was one thing my mother had chided me on most, it was my barbed tongue, or more specifically, how quickly I let it loose. 'A quick temper and a sharp tongue are a nasty combination,' she scolded whenever something mean flew from my lips.
Not that I had any reason to feel bad about what I’d said. I knew better than to pass it off as 'the truth' because, in my twenty-seven years, I knew the bite of truth was often meaner than the nip of a lie. What it really came down to was that I owed him nothing , not even kindness or the effort not to be cruel. Plus, it wasn't like he’d tried to put the same effort into showing me the same courtesy.
And yet, the uncomfortable wriggle in my gut was still there despite my self-assurance. Sinking my metaphorical teeth into someone who hurt me felt good, but the vast majority of the time, that feeling faded quickly and left me with guilt that sat with me for quite some time. It was only when someone truly deserved what I said that I never felt a moment's disquiet over how badly I'd hurt them.
As the minutes ticked by, with only the sound of the wind rattling dry branches and our horses' hooves on the hard-packed dirt, I knew that for all his insufferable failings, Ambrose hadn't deserved it. He was unbearably judgmental, irritatingly stubborn, and so proud it was a wonder his back could bend to pick anything up. And yet, he had never been cruel to me or spiteful. Hard and unrelenting, yes, but never outright mean.
I opened my mouth. “I?—"
"There's a river not far from here," he interrupted, then glanced over, brow furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing," I said, feeling like a coward as I backed away from the apology I damn well knew he deserved. "A river?"
"You can smell the water from here. I would've thought you could."
"Er...can't say I have."
"Didn't you mention spending a lot of time in the wilderness?"
"Well...let's just say I haven't been around long enough in these parts to know what the water smells like."
Unable to help myself, I tipped my head back to sniff the wind. I tried for a while but caught only the familiar smell of the dirt, which was dry and harsh to my nose. There were a few other things on the wind, something a little unpleasant but familiar. I strained to make sense of what I could be smelling when I remembered the first time I’d been caught in one of those rare rainstorms in the desert. I had been under a tarp, traveling with some traders, and the smell of the rain hitting the desert had filled the air and made me wrinkle my nose.
The same gesture I made as I nodded. “Alright, there it is."
He gave me a strange look. “What, don't like water?"
Never in his or my lifetime would I admit that his genuine confusion was more than refreshing in the face of his normal annoyed confusion. It was actually endearing. It took the scowl that normally lived on his face and made him almost look like a little boy asking a question. I wouldn't tell him because, yes, he would hate the idea that anything he did made me happy, but because those moments of authenticity had the effect of softening me a bit. Enough, it seemed, to convince me to give him a real answer, rather than the lies and evasion I used when dealing with someone who had as much power over me as he did.
"It...doesn't smell right to me," I admitted with a sheepish shrug. "The water smells different here."
"Huh," he said, turning the horse to trot in another direction. "Guess you really ain't from here."
"No," I said, following to keep up with him as the horses continued trotting. "I'm used to a lot more green. A lot more water. A lot more...life everywhere. Being here has been an adjustment."
"Green and wet, huh?" he asked after a moment, face scrunching. "Can't say that sounds too pleasant."
I laughed a little. “Really? Is brown, dry, and hot that much better?"
"Green and wet just sounds like slop you'd put on a plate to make a kid eat."
"Brown, dry, and hot sounds like a turd left out in the sun."
He blinked at that and then snorted. “You've described it that way...both times."
"I said green with a lot more water. You're the one that jumped immediately to green and wet."
"It's the same thing."
"Maybe, but it's not like...wet all the time. Just means there's water for things to grow. The ground can be hard and craggy like it is here, but not because the sun baked whatever moisture it could out of the earth. Instead, it's just...verdant."
"Now you're sounding like my Sunday School lessons about the Garden of Eden."
"Well, I saw my share of naked people running around at times, but not the good Lord or his angels coming down to say not to touch a particular tree," I said with a soft laugh. "But compared to being here? It was like what they said the Garden was like. At least there, you could lie down in the grass and not worry about burning the skin off your bones. I mean, the ticks and mosquitos were fierce, and half the year, snow and ice could be brutal?—"
"You're...not really convincing me it's better. I hope you weren't trying," he said with a shake of his head as he navigated a patch of rocks. "Sounds like it's worse wherever you're from."
"Okay, maybe I'm doing a bad job," I admitted with a snort. "I just...I grew up there. Born and raised, so I-I miss it sometimes. There's something magical about it, even if it just seems that way because that's where home was. Being able to walk among the trees, feel the wind on your face, the rain on your skin. Everywhere there's life, from the trees, the grass, the flowers, even the scraggly weeds that liked to take over the garden. Or the animals everywhere, from the squirrels and rabbits you had to chase out of the garden, the birds in the morning, or the foxes and wolves you had to keep an eye out for, the first for your chickens and the second for yourselves. And yeah, winter could be brutal. Sometimes, the snow came down so much overnight you practically had to swim through it to get out of your yard. And the cold could bite so deep you'd feel like you couldn't move your limbs if you were out too long. But there's something wonderful about walking around after decent snow, hearing how quiet it makes everything, and how the moon and starlight sparkle, turning everything into diamonds as the soft crunch of snow came from your steps."
I stopped abruptly when I realized I’d gone beyond rambling and into blathering territory. It was a good thing the desert sun had already warmed my face because I didn't have to feel it get even warmer. Embarrassment, like I hadn't felt in ages, ripped through me, and I quickly took a deep breath and looked away before he figured out how much I'd caught myself off guard.
"Don't," I said when I heard him suck in a breath, probably to say something I didn't want to hear. I didn't need another reason to snap back at him after I still hadn't apologized for the first time. "Just?—"
"I'm not going to shame a man for missing his home. We all start from somewhere, and it sounds like you miss it," he said, his tone giving away nothing but compassion I desperately did not need to hear. "Though I have to wonder why you're all the way out here when?—"
"Because this is where I ended up," I told him, getting my face and emotions back under control before facing him again. "We rarely plan for our lives to go the way they do. The best we can do is make the best of what we have and work it out so the future gets better. That's all."
"Huh," he grunted as we made our way along the path. "That's?—"
"What?" I asked, not caring if I sounded wary. I had every right to be cautious of anything he had to say as far as I was concerned.
"I don't know. Can't figure out if that's surprising because it sounded practical...or hopeful," he said.
"You know, this might sound amazing to you, considering your surprise, but a person can be practical and still hold onto some hope," I said with a snort. The path opened up, and I heard the sound of running water bouncing off the rocks around us. The smell might have been off to me, but something in me uncoiled slightly at the sound. It wasn't a sound I heard often outside civilization, and it was more than welcome, considering how hot the day already was.
"Well, sure. You just...don't seem the type," he said slowly as he came to a stop with a light but firm pull of the reins.
"Is this going to be another one of your comments about me being an outlaw?" I asked, not caring much if I sounded weary of the whole thing. Honestly, after weeks, the constant use of my status as an outlaw to mistrust, dismiss, and dislike me was wearing thinner with every passing day.
"I was gonna say that, up to today, you've had nothing but smart comments and ways of making people idiots. Not exactly the talk you hear from someone who sits around dreamin' of things."
"You sure about that?"
He glanced over at me before swinging out of the saddle. “Why do I feel there's another smart comment comin'?"
"Not particularly," I said as I pushed the horse forward, dismounting once I saw a shimmer of sunlight off the water. "But despite acting like a stubborn mule most of the time, I've always had this feeling deep down that you were an intelligent person."
"Alright, so yes, something smart to say."
"More like I'm hoping you can take those brains of yours and wrap them around our conversation and come up with an answer or explanation of your own as to whether someone who sounds as bitter as me could still occasionally sound like they hope for things."
Not for the first time tonight, I felt surprised when his annoyance flared behind his stare before his expression completely shut down as he turned away with a shake of his head. “And now you sound like my father. Are you trying to act like him to get under my skin?"
Which was...not what I expected him to say. The accusation, which was what it was, made me pause as I stared at him in curiosity and no small amount of surprise. There wasn't a lot about his father that aligned with how I was as a person, even with his very limited knowledge of who I was.
"I can promise you," I said as my boots finally hit the dirt. "I am not trying to be like your father, not on purpose, in any case. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I've met the man a handful of times, and the last time was the first time we had a one-on-one conversation, so I can't say I have much knowledge to work on to mimic him."
Ambrose watched me with that same stony, emotionless expression before snorting harshly. “Don't think I don't see how you can read people like books."
At that, I cast a sideways, disbelieving look at him. "Aside from the fact that I'm sure that's the closest you've come to giving me a compliment, do you really think someone like your dad is easy to read and emulate?"
At that, the stony mask finally broke, and he frowned in what I thought was annoyance, not aimed at me for once. “I don't know. Reading people isn't exactly my thing."
"Really?" I asked as we let the horses plod toward the riverbank to drink. "Because from what I've seen, the men at the ranch respect you a great deal, even the house staff."
"They give my father respect. They just like me sometimes."
"I'd say they like you more than sometimes. And don't think that respect is just shown in one way. It's not just snapping to attention and following orders, that's respect, but there's some fear in there as well. The kind you engender comes from a far warmer, familiar place. These people respect you because they trust that you're leading them in the right direction and you're willing to do what needs to be done. They like you because you're not cold and unapproachable, stubborn and grumpy, yes, but you're not mean, and you don't put people on edge just by existing near them."
He stared at me for a few heartbeats before snorting. “I certainly don't put you on edge, that's for sure."
"That would be because you’re so exceedingly handsome I can't bring myself to act as though you’re a threat," I told him with a raised brow. "I'm barely containing the wanton lust burning inside me whenever I see you."
Ambrose stared at me, a dry expression on his face as he sat on one of the large rocks on the riverbank. It was an upgrade from his normal annoyed expression when dealing with me, at least. It stayed on his face as he grabbed his boots and yanked them off, freeing his feet before turning around and sticking them into the river after rolling up the cuffs of his pants.
"And here I am, getting exposed to more skin," I said with a more exaggerated sigh than was strictly necessary, but I still enjoyed myself all the same.
He froze for a moment, shooting me a dirty look. The sight of him soaking his feet gave me a twinge of envy, and I followed suit, choosing a rock near him so he wouldn't get nervous about me trying anything. I groaned when my feet hit the water. It wasn't nearly as cool as I would have liked, but it was far better than being stuffed into boots under the scorching sun.
"Really?" he asked, giving me a frown again.
"What?"
"Is all that noise really necessary?"
I cracked an eye open and looked at him in disbelief. “I'm sorry, am I not allowed to appreciate the feel of water on my feet after I've been roasting them all day? Or is the sound of my moaning too distracting for you?"
He rolled his eyes. “Eventually, those jokes are gonna stop getting a rise outta me, and then where will you be?"
"Now, who said anything about them being jokes?"
He was quiet, and while I was tempted to open my eyes to see what he was doing, I decided that whatever strange little breakdown he might be having was none of my concern. I could finally enjoy the hot air by soaking my feet, and I wasn't going to let whatever issues he had get in the way.
"I ain't never met someone quite like you, that's for sure," he finally muttered.
That managed to pull a snort from me. “You know, there's a lot of people who, if they said that, it would sound like a compliment. But from you? I'm not so sure."
"I'm not so sure joking about stuff like that is supposed to be complimented," he said, and I heard him rustling around on the rock, doing who knew what while I soaked in sunlight and water. "But I ain't ever known anyone else willin' to do it. I'm surprised no one's given you a beatin' for it."
I shook my head, chuckling. “It's funny how I know you have a brain in that head, and yet at the same time, you're so damn dense."
"Yeah, and you always thinkin' you're the smartest person in the room is gonna get you killed one day," he growled.
"Hasn't yet," I said with a snort.
His retort came in the form of water splashing, finally drawing my attention enough to open my eyes. It was then, with widening eyes, that I discovered what all the rustling had been. He had been stripping down to nothing before slipping into the water. He had walked to the deepest part of the river, which only reached the middle of his thighs, and dropped down, the water coming up over his head before he surfaced.
Now, I’d always known Ambrose would look good without clothes on. The guy already looked good with them on, even with his scowls. But it was always nice to have confirmation staring me right in the face. The years of hard labor had worked its magic, and despite how much he could eat, there didn't seem to be a trace of it on his body. Every bit of him was covered in toned, tanned muscle that shifted noticeably under his skin as he stood up to wipe his face and let out a contented sigh.
He was standing with his side facing me so I could see everything . It certainly wasn't the first time I’d let my eyes trace the admirable curve of his ass, but now I could see it wasn't pure muscle from the way it bounced when he came back up to the surface. Which, of course, left his dick, which, despite having been in below-body-temperature water, was still impressively thick as it lay against his thighs, drawing my attention.
"Well, damn," I said before I could think of anything else to say. "It's been a good while since I got to see a show this good for free."
His wiping stopped, and he glanced over at me, brow furrowing. "Quit."
"Don't tell me to quit joking," I said with a snort. "Because there isn't a trace of joking in this body right now."
As a matter of fact, I could feel my body stirring to life at the sight. It had been a long time since I'd been alone with a good-looking, naked man like Ambrose, and while it wasn't as long, it had been far too long since I'd had the opportunity to release some steam. Being crammed into a single-room building with two other men who slept lightly, were always there when I was, and being watched intensely whenever I was out of the building hadn't afforded me much privacy or moments to take care of it.
"Just stop," he said with a weary sigh. "And you need to get in here too. Don't think I haven't seen you ready to fall out of the saddle. The hottest part of the day is coming up, and you need to cool off.
"What, we're not going to endure it?"
"No, that's stupid. At least on the ranch, you have places to cool off, but out here, you just have the boiling heat, and there's not a breeze to be felt. It'll just last an hour or two, then we can move on and see if we can't find those wolves, or at least some evidence that they're around."
"Seriously?" I asked, not so sure it was a good idea for both of us to get naked and slip into the river. Especially because just looking at him was going to make it difficult to take off my pants.
"I'm not jokin', and I'm not takin' any excuses or a no either," he said. "Don't be an idiot. Get in the river and cool off, or I'll do it for you."
There was a joke about enjoying him stripping me of my clothes, but it didn't feel quite as funny as it might have a few minutes ago. "Fine, but quit staring at me."
He rolled his eyes. “Now you're gonna be shy?"
The man seemed to believe I was screwing around, and there was no option but to do what he said. Which meant peeling my shirt off and wiggling carefully out of my pants. The process had been irritating enough that my body had calmed down, and I wasn't sticking straight out, but it was obvious I’d been hard.
That immediately changed as I slid off the rock into the water and looked over at him. As someone who’d intended not to get hard while I was with him, it was a poor choice on my part. All it took was for him to stretch as he rubbed water on his face for me to feel my groin stir to life all over again. Of course, that was the moment he looked over, probably to confirm I’d done what he told me to. From the look on his face, he wasn't expecting to see what he did.
"What in all the..." he trailed off as I dropped down to sit in the water and stay there with a smirk.
"Did I or did I not say I wasn't joking?" I asked with a snort before submerging myself.
His face started to color as he pulled his eyes away from me. “I didn't think you were?—"
"What? Like that? Like you are?" I asked with a raised brow.
Honestly, if his eyes got any wider, I’d start worrying they would fall out of his head. "Excuse me?"
"Seriously? Do you think I don't know?" I asked with a snort. "You're always careful to make sure you're never close to me, and don't think I didn't see the way you were fucking me in your mind that first day when I was getting my first bath in weeks. And right now, you're doing your hardest to hide the fact that because I'm hard, you're getting hard."
I couldn't actually see if he was getting hard because, in his attempt not to stare at me, he had turned his back to me. But the way his hands came down to cover himself told me my guess was a bullseye.
His jaw tightened. “If you?—"
"Tell anyone? Why would I do that?"
"To cause me trouble, to get rid of me, to make me look bad in front of my father and everyone else."
"First of all, I only cause trouble when it's fun, not when it could get someone seriously hurt...even if they are an ass like you. Secondly, I don't want to get rid of you, which is weird. You're no fun, and you try to work me to the bone, but it's better than some people would do to me...and it's nice to look at your ass while you're working. And finally, you need to let go of this issue with your dad. The man trusts you more than anyone else on the ranch, as far as I can tell, and everyone who works there respects you too. Oh, and if you think you can hide that thing when it's hard, you're either overestimating the size of your hands or cursed with one hell of a small penis, which would be unfortunate."
"My...it's just fine," he said with a huff, dropping his hands and turning to face me. He was indeed growing hard, but before I could see that he wasn't going to be able to hide it with his hands without looking ridiculous, he sat down quickly, stirring up the dirt from the bottom and clouding up the water. "I didn't think you were...well, like that."
I shrugged, scooping water into my face as the sun shimmered intensely off the river's surface. "Well, you’d know better than anyone that you shouldn't go around announcing it. You figure out if there's someone else like you around and go from there."
"Go from there," he repeated with a snort. "You make it sound so simple."
"Nah. First, you make sure they're like that, especially making sure they know they're like that and aren't going to deck you for bringing it up in the first place. Then you figure out if they're even into you and willing to risk someone else finding out by doing things with you and if they know what they're doing in the first place. Trust me, I know it's not as easy as I made it sound, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try."
He stared at me for a moment before letting out a soft snort. “Alright, I guess you know what you're talking about. Suppose I shouldn't be too surprised."
I raised a brow. “I'm trying to figure out if I should be offended by what you're insinuating or grateful you said something that could be taken as a compliment. That all depends on how you meant it."
To my surprise, one corner of his mouth turned up in a pleased smirk. “Well, would you look at that? I finally managed to stump you with something. I reckon miracles do still happen."
"Well," I began, not sure if I should be annoyed that he managed to get me good or impressed that he had it in him. "Maybe you should talk with whatever power controls miracles in your life. Because if it's just going to give you the occasional win in a battle of wits, then it probably doesn't like you very much."
He rolled his eyes. “And I guess my victory was short-lived."
I chuckled. “So...what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Well, you've already made it clear that I've had my fair share of time with other men...what about yourself?"
His jaw tightened slightly, and I watched his eyes dart around. A wariness in his eyes made my chest hurt because I knew exactly what he was doing. It was the very nature of being what we were that we had to be forever aware of where we were and who might see or hear something that could get us into trouble. There were parts of the country, few and far between as they were, where people would ignore that sort of thing so long as you had the brains to be discreet. There were plenty of places that wouldn't ignore it and plenty of people eager to root it out if they caught wind, and if discovered, the best you could hope for was jail time or being run out of town. The worst was a slow and humiliating death at the hands of an indignant, righteous mob.
His eyes met mine again, and I saw a flicker of something else I knew all too well: guilt and shame. "There...ain't much to talk about. I've done it a couple of times."
"Just a couple of times?" I asked with a quiet whistle. "I can't expect you've had too many opportunities living all the way out here. Was it...with someone on the crew?"
"No," he said quickly, eyes going wide in horror. "No, no. There's...I wouldn't do that. The chances of gettin' caught is...no. And it was a couple of people, not a couple of times...definitely more than a couple of times."
At that, my brow shot up. “Oh? Definitely more than a couple of times? Was this in a short time period, or extended?"
He sighed. “Why do you care?"
"Because I'm curious, nosy, and I'm trying to figure out if you're just exceptionally horny when you finally have the chance to nail someone to a bed or wall...or are the one being nailed. Or if you had the leisure of taking your time."
His eyes narrowed. “Two weeks."
"How many times?"
"I didn't keep count."
I knew my delight had to show on my face when I saw him give a big sigh. “Oh really now ? My my my, I might have begun to truly believe you were a good little boy who did what he was supposed to all the time with maybe a little misbehaving. You shacked up with someone for two weeks and didn't leave the bed the whole time?"
"We...left the bed," he grumbled as he looked away, which did nothing to conceal the color flooding his cheeks. "Not like we had a choice. Things had to be done, alright? Leave me alone."
I watched him for a moment, hearing the tension in his voice in a way I’d never heard before. Clearing my throat, I waited until he looked at me, then smiled at him. “There's nothing wrong with it. That you...enjoyed yourself and enjoyed him. There's a lot of horrible things in this world, but two people enjoying time together in a way that doesn't hurt anyone else isn't one of them."
His gaze swept back to my face, searching it with an expression I couldn't explain, but that still managed to cause a tug in my chest. For a moment, I could almost picture him as a small boy, a time when he’d probably frowned less and perhaps smiled more. A time when he would look up at one of his parents with wide eyes in the hope that they had the answers and could assuage whatever worry or fear was plaguing him.
Then it was gone, and the innocent boy was replaced by a wary, grown man whose face was drawn and tired. "Is that how you look at it? Must be nice."
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “So far, I've not found anything to prove me wrong. Maybe the bible thumpers and moralists are right about people like us, or maybe they're not. But the only time any of us is going to find out is when we die, and I don't know about you, but I'm in no rush to reach that point anytime soon."
His lips twitched. “No, I guess I ain't either."
"I'd say that's something we have in common, but that's a pretty common thing for people to feel," I snorted.
He glanced over at me, his hands still in his lap, but his shoulders didn't seem as tight as before. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You wanted to know what I’d been up to before, so...what about you?"
I didn't see the point in going into the full history and thought about how to keep it short and simple. "First time was with another boy in town, the son of a smith. I didn't really get a chance to settle that one since I had to leave town."
"Why?"
"It was about that time. There wasn't much keeping me there and a whole lot pushing me to leave," I said, skating over the fact that I’d probably be shot on sight if I was ever seen in my hometown again. "After that, it's been whenever I found the chance...or more like when I had the chance and wanted to take it. I've been across the country and it might feel like there's not a whole lot of people like us, which is true...just not in the way you'd think."
"And how would I think?" he asked dryly.
"Well, maybe not you specifically, but people like us," I said with a laugh, knowing I was treading on dangerous territory by getting too close to assuming what he thought about something. "And it's easy to fall into the trap of thinking you're the only one, you're the only person experiencing it. And sure, there are probably far fewer people than we'd hope. There's far more than we fear."
He watched me for a moment with an unreadable expression that, for once, would have put his dad to shame. "So...what about love?"
"What about it?"
"Can love exist...for people like us?"
At that, I could only give him a weak smile. “I've seen a couple managing it the last time I saw them a few years back. But...I can't say for certain if it stuck or if something else got in the way. And there was...another couple I...knew once. It...didn't work out."
It wasn't the smoothest cover up in my history of covering things up, and if the new furrow in his brow was any indication, I hadn't managed to, well, cover anything up. I watched the furrow deepen, and he licked his lips before they parted.
Groaning, I rolled my eyes. “I was part of that couple, alright? It was a long time ago, but I'd just as soon not talk about it if you don't mind."
Which, to my surprise, made him give a soft laugh. “Oh? So there's something you won't run your mouth about. Or I should say, there's something where you're gonna admit you don't wanna talk about it."
"What?"
"Any other time you didn't or don't want to talk about something, you find some way to avoid it. You know, like steppin' around it, making a joke, or sayin' somethin' that will get on my nerves so I don't think too hard about it. Stuff like that. This is the first time you...said you didn't wanna talk about it."
I watched him for a moment. “You know, for someone who likes to moan and groan that they're never going to live up to their daddy's standards, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."
Boy, if I'd thought making a pass at him had surprised him, it was nothing compared to the wide-eyed stare of open shock he gave me now. One might have thought I’d grown an extra limb and started breathing fire from the way he goggled at me.
"That...did you just say somethin' nice to me?" he asked, shock thoroughly laced through his voice.
An uncomfortable squirming wriggled its way into my gut, far different in its discomfort from the one earlier when I’d gone too far in insulting him. Now it felt like I was giving off the wrong idea or had him wondering if perhaps I wasn't the annoying little shit he thought I’d been. I didn't want him thinking I was somehow growing soft or fond of him. Sure, he wasn't as bad as he could have been considering the power he had over me, but a gentler jailer was still a jailer at the end of the day, and I had no desire to delude myself into thinking it was anything else.
"Oh, sorry," I said with a grin. "Should I have complimented your ass...or other parts of you?"
He let out a weary sigh. “And there it is. Should've known it was only a matter of time."
"Oh...should I take that to mean I shouldn't offer to help you with what is clearly some pent-up stress?"
This time, he didn't look shocked; he was just exasperated as he rubbed his forehead with another sigh. "We're just gonna pretend like you aren't a big part of all that pent-up stress?"
"Is it my ass? It's been known to cause...stress," I smirked.
"No," he said, but I saw the way his eyes darted away from my face before returning, betraying the lie for what it was.
"Your reaction tells me otherwise."
His jaw tightened. “Perhaps it has less to do with my desire for you and more my desire to throw you off the nearest cliff and be done with you. Maybe it's that charm you love to give yourself credit for so much."
I couldn't help but laugh. “You know, I have to say I like you with a little edge to your tongue rather than moody and growling. Although I admit, I'm now wondering if you take all that growling into more...intimate moments. Because if you do, then I might find myself growing a little more fond of it."
His expression was deadpan. “Is this you tryin' to seduce me?"
"Hmm, is it working?"
"No."
"You sure about that? Because you definitely seemed to be interested a little bit ago."
"I'm not responsible for what my body does. Because the rest of me is still thinkin' about drowning you in this river."
I grinned. “I don't mind things a little rough, but that might be too much."
He rolled his eyes. “Would you just...quit screwin' around? You were managin' a decent conversation, and now you're just bein'—"
"What?" I asked with a shrug. "You're not the only one feeling pent up. I have zero privacy, and as much as I don't mind certain people watching me release that tension, those two aren't on that list."
Something flickered in his face. “You've...had people watch you?"
"What, are you telling me you've never watched a guy take care of himself?"
"No?"
"So, you've had sex with at least one, but you've never seen him...really?"
"No."
He was clearly getting uncomfortable again, but I could see the way his eyes were darting down to my groin before he cleared his throat roughly and turned to face away. “Are you done?"
"You're so stubborn," I said with a laugh. It was funny that he bothered to fight it so much, but then again, I wouldn't have expected much else. The man seemed intent on draining every bit of fun from everything.
"Let's try to be quiet for a little while. It might do you some good," he grumbled.
Smirking, I pushed to my feet and watched as he refused to glance over with such staunchness I would have bet he was fighting like hell with his head to keep his attention so resolutely turned away from me. I could practically feel the strain of his attempts to keep his eyes forward and not flick the smallest amount in my direction.
I could have lacked subtlety in continuing to tease him by walking in front of him, but instead, I simply walked toward the edge of the lazy river and dropped down onto a rock. It put me in the same position I’d been in before, but a little further away. All he had to do was look over, and he would get the eye full. I was still willing to bet he wanted to see.
It struck me then how contrary people were, and I wondered if that was something wrong with us or simply built in. Two different, seemingly contradictory things could exist in one person, yet the conflict between the two could be kept to a minimum. I managed to tolerate his generally foul attitude, but I didn't like it, and I despised that he was holding the other end of my chain and yet...I was still willing to seduce him. Meanwhile, he could barely abide my existence, let alone consider liking me, and yet here he was, having to fight his urges not to take in the sight of my naked body.
After the conversation we'd just had and my previously mentioned lack of release, I found myself with a rather interesting and slightly devilish idea. A glance toward him told me he was still staring forward, but I could sense him watching me out of the corners of his vision without actually moving.
So perhaps he noticed as my hand slipped down to my groin and?—