1. 3
He sank deep, and deeper, until he was bottoming out in me. And still he worked my ass slow and firm and long, like his dick was trying to find my heart, or maybe my soul. Wasn’t sure I had either one, this time in my life, but what I did have was sitting up and begging for him. My cock was so hard under his gliding fist I thought it might split and my balls wanted to erupt. What he was doing felt so good and yet hurt in odd ways that weren’t physical at all.
And he kept doing it. Kept fucking me perfect and jacking me like he had all night. His hair was disarranged now, falling into those ice-blue eyes, and a little sweat made that perfect chest gleam in the low light. I gave up on everything, control, thought, breathing even, letting each slow thrust drive a hoarse grunt from my throat.
I expected him to speed up, to start pounding me fast like a man might to get off. But between one long tip-to-hilt drive and the next, lightning hit me. I came in pulses of relief so sharp my vision grayed out. Through a rush of blood in my ears, I heard myself crying out. Not his name—I managed not to be that sappy—but “Please” and “Yes” and a whole lot of taking the Lord’s name in vain.
Before my sight cleared, Sylvester ground in deep, groaned long and loud, and kinda collapsed on me, his whole big body shuddering. I let my legs fall to the bed and wrapped my arms around him. Couldn’t not, the way he’d come down on my chest like all his strings were cut. I held him while his breath puffed out in hot gasps against my neck and his cock jerked inside me.
Reality came back slowly, in the ticking of the electric heater under the window and the stickiness of my cum cooling between our chests. Sylvester was a heavy weight on me, but I couldn’t say I hated it.
“Not bad, cowboy,” he murmured against my cheek.
“Don’t get all enthusiastic or nothing,” I said as dryly as I could.
He turned his mouth to my ear and I expected a nip, but he kissed me there, and on the temple and the cheek, and kinda nuzzled against my throat. Something sang through me like a blackbird, first day of spring. I couldn’t hardly stand the sweetness so I gave him a shove. “You’re heavy.”
He moved enough to slip free of my body, which made us both gasp. Then he reached down, disposed of the condom, and settled again, his weight off my hips but an arm and a leg thrown over me like he wanted to pin me there. I couldn’t find it in me to object to being pinned, neither.
“I could marry this bed,” I said, just for something to say. Though it was an amazing bed, the right softness on top of firmness and so long that my feet weren’t hitting the bottom.
Sylvester chuckled. “The frame was my grandfather’s. I brought it into this room and got the very best mattress I could. This is the first time I’ve fucked a man in the old bastard’s bed, but I’m definitely loving it, all the way around.”
There was a thread of bitter in that humor, so I said cautiously, “I get the feeling your grandfather’s not your favorite person.”
“He kicked me and my mom out when I was ten. She fell in love with a woman.”
“Ah.”
“He was a narrow old autocrat. Destroyed everything of hers she couldn’t pack in two suitcases, and one of those was full of my stuff. Wouldn’t ever talk to her again, nor me, when I asked to come back for a visit.”
“I’m sorry.”
I felt him shrug. “It worked out for the best. Mom and Cassie raised me, and Cassie’s dad owned the hotel. We all worked for him till he retired, then Cassie took over, and when she and Mom wanted to travel and see the world, she passed it to me, free and clear so I didn’t have to try to find her in Kathmandu to get permission for changes.”
“They sound like real nice folks.”
“They’re great.” His voice softened, talking about his mom. Moms, I guess. “They’re in New Zealand right now. They invited me out there after I sold the hotel, but… I wanted something of my own.”
“You’ll find it, I’m sure.” There was a drive in him that surely wouldn’t be denied, especially with a bunch of money to back it up.
“Maybe.” He pushed to one side and rolled to face me, so I turned over too and stuffed a wonderful, downy pillow under my head to meet his eyes. He asked, “What chance do you think a dude ranch would have of working out around here?”
I blinked and tried to get my thinking parts in gear. “Middling? It’s pretty country. Not too cold in the winter, so the riding season could be April to November. Maybe a Christmas snow ride, if you had the right horses and prepared the trails.” I laughed. “And made sure the greenhorns had somewhere to warm their tender feet afterward.”
“So what’s the downside?”
“It’s awful quiet. Lakewood’s half an hour away, and even that’s not big. No fancy places to shop, really, not for city folk. A couple movie theaters that’re kinda run down. Would dude folks want to be this far off the beaten track?”
“Maybe for short stays. A long weekend, a week max. If I could make sure the food was excellent, and provide enough amenities in the house and grounds.” His voice had moved back from my drawling lover— fucker? Fuck buddy? I reminded myself we were nothing more—to the crisp business tones I’d heard that first night.
“ You would?”
“I have this big damned house.” He gestured around. “Ten bedrooms, although I’d need more baths so I’d probably cannibalize a couple to split up for bathrooms. Big kitchen, fireplace you could roast a pig in. Land, barns, fences not in bad shape yet.”
I thought he was an optimist about the fences. A few years without tending meant lots of repairs. But what I said was, “I don’t recommend pig roasting indoors.”
He laughed. “Figure of speech. But seriously, I’ve been thinking about it. Using the place instead of selling up. I’m too young to be retired. I need a project, and since I got back here I feel… connected again. Rooted, in a way I haven’t since I was ten. My mother loves travel, and she felt stifled in the hotel. But I always wanted one place to belong.” He laughed again, though it sounded a bit fake, like he was throwing off the mood. He set a hand on my naked hip. “And there’s no beating the local scenery.”
I shifted out from under his hand. “So maybe you should do it.”
“Maybe. I know the hospitality part. I even know a chef who might be willing to come work for me. He was at the hotel, quit after six months of the new management, and I know he hates where he is now. He and his wife have six kids, and he talks about wanting to raise them back in the country like he grew up, but there’s not a lot of call for Michelin stars outside the cities.”
“Sounds like you have it planned out.” I wasn’t sure why my throat felt tight.
“But not the ranch part.” He brushed his damp hair off his forehead. “If I was having five to ten guests, how many horses would I need, to be sure of mounts for them? How few cattle could I get by with to give them a cowboy experience, but not divert too many resources to cows I’m not really interested in?”
“You could probably get by with twenty head of Angus, maybe thirty,” I said. “Beefs look big and intimidating to city folk, and a herd of thirty running or being split and penned would probably be thrill enough.”
“Why Angus?”
“Black and pretty? And they’re maybe the easiest beef breed to work with, if that’s your goal. If it’s just for show, you could buy some rejects pretty cheap. Old man Davidson runs Angus on his spread. He’d sell you some.”
“And the horses?”
“You’d need… three ranch hands, minimum. Maybe three and a foreman, to keep everything running smooth and give them days off. They’d maybe bring a horse of their own, but you’d want a couple spare cutting horses, because horses are damned fools. Turn around and they’ve got their foot in wire or they get in the feed room and try to colic. For the guests?” I gave it a bit of thought. “If your top end’s ten people, you might get by with twenty guest horses.”
“Why not just ten?”
“Did you hear me about horses and fools? And worse when they’re carrying a green rider. Besides, you’d need a variety. Some slow, gentle plugs for the folks who’ve never set a foot in a stirrup. But some better mounts too, for the ones who actually know something about what they’re doing. And then size. You can go toward the bigger end. They can carry a small person too. But some folks will feel uncomfortable, mounted way above their size.”
“Sure.”
“And if you’re going to allow kids, you’ll want some ponies too.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. It’s a lot to think about.”
“Yep. Livestock needs good management. A hotel won’t up and get sick or act ornery or suddenly go lame. Critters are different.”
“Not that different. A furnace can break, a roof leak, your chef can suddenly come down with the flu. Part of running a successful hospitality business is preparation, back-ups, and being able to improvise.” He sat up and mopped at his sticky chest with the top sheet.
Since he was willing to ruin his linens like that, I did the same, then, when he made no move to get up, I got comfy on the pillows and pulled the blanket around my shoulders.
“It’s an exciting idea,” he went on slowly. “What I’ve dreamed of, in a way, since those days of sweaty cowboys and grooming my pony and smelling the dirt of home. But there’s a lot to consider. Including one other aspect.” He met my eyes. “If I did this— if —” The emphasis seemed almost like a reminder to himself. “I’d want it to be gay-friendly. For a whole host of reasons, including the fact that I’m not going to live my life in the closet. How would that go over around here?”
I bit my lip. “Depends. If you’re going to make a big deal out of being the gay dude ranch, fly flags and slap rainbows on everything, you’ll have a problem.”
“I wasn’t going to be that in-your-face.”
“Times are changing. You might be fine. You’d need to be careful of your hires, though. Especially the hands. One bastard not fastening the girth tight enough for some flamboyant city queen and you could end in disaster.”
“Is that something you’d know? Who was gay-friendly and who wasn’t?”
“Some. Yeah. Been gay around here twenty years. I know whose lip curls, and who shows up at Max’s on a Saturday night.”
“You.” He reached a hand to cup my jaw and I couldn’t help leaning into the warm touch. “You’re like the last piece of the puzzle I’ve been wrestling with. You know, I spent a bunch of time picking out a consultant from Fort Collins. We did a two-hour Zoom call, trying to get his expert opinion on the idea while I showed him the place. I paid a bunch of money and in the end, he hemmed and hawed and said, ‘It might work, but you need to spend a bunch more for me to come down and do a full feasibility study.’ Which, fair enough, but he talked to me like I was a neophyte, not a man with decades of hospitality experience. I decided I wanted a local expert, and you’ve already given me better feedback than he did.”
“Wouldn’t call myself an expert.” Didn’t say I had no idea what a neo-fight was.
“You have ideas, though,” Sylvester insisted. “You know this county and the ranch business, the local resources. What if I hired you as a consultant? You even have the queer eye for the straight guy. I promise, I can pay what you’re worth and you can fit me in around your day job, at least for now.” He chuckled, warm and satisfied.
I pulled away, trying to figure out why that felt like icewater in my gut, instead of a great offer. “So I’d work for you? Planning the dude ranch? Ain’t something I’ve ever done.”
“I’m sure you’d figure it out.”
“Mm.”
His face fell, some of the light dimming in his eyes. “Of course, I didn’t ask. Maybe you don’t want to take time away from the job you have now. Maybe this dude ranch idea sounds risky or unappealing.”
I shook my head. “My job’s a job. I’d give it up for a better one, and I don’t mind cash on the side, though I don’t have a lot of spare time till winter. But…” I looked at him, at the shape of his mouth and the curve of his dick and the strength of his hands. Thought about how we’d just fit together exactly right. It was way too soon and too needy, but I had to say, “I was really hoping for more of this.” I waved between our naked bodies. “Don’t know if I can go down to just being your employee. Don’t know if I want to.” I’d take orders from him in bed, any day of the week and Sundays too, but if he was paying me money? That felt wrong.
His expression cleared. “That’s not what I’m asking. We wouldn’t have to stop this.”
“You’re okay with fucking your consultant?” Am I okay with being fucked by my boss?
“Mama Cassie’s whole family worked in the hotel, off and on— my mom, before and after she and Cassie were married, me, her cousin, her cousin’s boyfriend. We didn’t have strict boss-employee relationships but we all made it work.”
“That’s not the same thing. I’m a stranger, a working man. I never finished high school. I’m not a relation, I got no leverage against you, if you’re my boss.”
Sylvester raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bright, insightful man, with a lot to offer. I don’t know why you didn’t graduate—”
“No money at home. I started cowboying full time at sixteen.”
“A diploma’s not a measure of who you are. Or who you can be.” He reached for my hand and I let him take it. He ran his thumb over the veins standing up on the back, turned my palm over and rubbed my calluses. “You earned these with hard work. You’re what I’m looking for. Someone to be the voice of reason in this crazy scheme from day one. Someone who won’t be too awed by my money or my personality to tell me when I’m on the wrong track or fucking things up.”
“I could probably do that part,” I agreed.
The smile that curved his lips was a hell of a pretty sight. “I bet you can. And your knowledge base perfectly complements mine for this project. I could interview a thousand men and not find someone a better fit.”
“And the sex?”
“It’s going to be months before this ranch gets off the ground, if it ever does. Probably a year or more, with the remodeling and all the rest. You’re giving me your expert opinion, not working in a chain of command with other staff.” He let go of my hand and ran one finger down my soft cock. Despite me being forty and having been dicked into oblivion ten minutes earlier, Joe Junior gave a little twitch, liking that touch.
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I think we could be a good thing. Out there and here in bed, while we figure out if the ranch is going to fly. By the time I’m hiring hands, we’ll know if…”
“If?”
“If this perfect fit, in and out of bed, is something that’s going to last. If maybe consultant could be expanded to something full time, long-term. I spent the past year making big decisions by myself, decisions that moved millions of dollars around and put people in and out of work.” For a moment, his eyes went dark and unfocused. “I’m tired of that. Really tired. I can probably run the ranch alone, once it’s going, but God, I’d love to have someone I could trust at my side.”
I took a sharp breath through my teeth, because I suddenly wanted that, more than I’d wanted anything in my life. I could picture it, clear as day, him and me wrangling a bunch of clueless dudes, pretty horses, and reject steers all day, and then falling into this big bed at night. Getting closer, figuring each other out. A life. A place to belong. A man.
I rolled out of bed fast and began pulling on my clothes. Sylvester watched me, his face carefully neutral. When I was dressed and armored some against hurt, I turned to him. “You need to ask around,” I said. “You need to see what people say about Joe McNeil, before you hand me keys to the kingdom.” Before you break my heart, because I hadn’t been sure I had one, a few hours back, but now I felt like that organ was poised on a cliff. Ridiculous. One orgasm, a few kisses, words that echoed like I’d known this man a lifetime. We’re strangers. But we didn’t feel that way.
Sylvester asked, “What will I hear around town?”
“Some good and some bad, I’m sure.” Folks knew me, though I’d never stood out from the crowd except for being queer. “They’ll tell you I’m honest, I hope. Blunt to a fault, maybe. A good man with horses. Some folks will want to make sure you know I’m bent.”
“I think I have a pretty clear picture of that.” He flicked a finger at the butt plug on the side table.
I pulled a baggie out of my pocket, picked up the toy, and stuffed it away. “Yeah. Well, the ones that are careful to point it out are the ones to avoid doing business with for the ranch, if you can.”
“Ah, a homophobe test.” He stood up too and pulled those sinfully small briefs over his ass. “Is there something out there that’s going to make me change my mind about you?”
“I hope not,” I said. “But you can’t just… trust me with this job on the basis of how good a fuck I am for one night.”
“Believe me, you weren’t that good.”
Dammit. When I blinked hard and looked away, he hurried over and wrapped his arms around me. “No, Jesus, Joe. I didn’t mean it like that. You were great. I just meant that no man’s ass by itself would ever be enough to make me give him this offer. No matter how perfect. It wasn’t the sex. It was the parts between. The way you take teasing and give it right back to me. The way you answer seriously when you know I need it. The way you’re generous with yourself. Even this—the way you’re careful not to leap at the chance of work, money, power, in case it’s not right.”
“For both our sakes,” I pointed out. “Although… how much money are you offering? Might change my mind.”
He laughed and kissed me. I melted against him. I wondered if I’d ever develop resistance to how his kisses felt, or would he always be able to win arguments with his lips on mine?
“All right,” he murmured against my cheek, not letting me go. “I’ll ask around. I’ll do my due diligence. And if people agree with my first impressions? If you really are the man I want at my side for this? What comes next?”
I nipped his ear and stepped free of his hold. Bending, I scooped his nice sweater off the floor and tossed it to him, then added his slacks. “If you’re certain, you come to Max’s next Saturday night. And maybe, I’ll let a city slicker pick me up again. For now, you need to drive me back to my truck.” Before I never want to leave. Before I lose my willpower.
“I can do that.”
“In that Mustang. Boy oh boy, you’ve been pining for horses and leather. No wonder you bought that thing. You know, you’re gonna rip the undercarriage outta her on some of the local roads, come spring and pot-hole season.”
“I have an SUV too. I save the Mustang for special occasions.”
“Like cruising gay bars?”
“Bar. Singular. Because this is a wasteland.”
“But one you want to live in? Stay in?” I stared hard into those pale eyes, because I felt like all of me was riding on the answer.
“Yes. I do. And I’ll be by Max’s at ten sharp next Saturday night. What then?”
Warmth flooded through me, and it wasn’t from the shearling jacket I was zipping up. “Then I reckon we’ll see what one sharp hotel manager and one ordinary cowboy can do together.”
“Sounds like a plan.” But before we headed down the stairs, he caught my arm and set a hand against my jaw, thumbing over my lip. “Just one correction. You’re not ordinary , Joe. Not one little bit. You’re amazing.”
That touch, those words I hadn’t realized I was hungry for, carried me forward through a long week at work. They echoed in my head and filled any times of quiet. Until the moment I stood in front of Max’s Place again, looking at a candy-red muscle car in the parking lot. Until the moment I gathered my hopes and dreams, and pushed open the door.