CHAPTER 32
“You from California, huh? State was nicer twenty years ago when it wasn’t full of Mexicans,” the man said, which was Victor’s cue to leave as fast as possible.
“Sorry about that,” Johnny grumbled as they bumped and rattled their way down the dirt rode out of the facility. “Dave’s a real fuckin’ asshole.”
Victor shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
It was, of course, but if you lived in rural Oklahoma this long, you learned what battles were worth fighting and which you walked away from.
The horse world was filled to the brim with rich white people.
If you didn’t have thick skin, you didn’t last long.
Once at the barn, Victor and Johnny each led a mare into the barn where they’d spend a day in a stall to decompress and get used to their surroundings.
Both were sweet and well-behaved mares, and Victor wondered if he could use them for introductory lessons for students just starting out.
Sometimes kids just wanted a horse to groom and love on, and Johnny’s mares had the temperament for that sort of thing.
After ensuring they were happy and fed, Victor and Johnny took a bale of hay outside to the round pen where the bucking mare still lived by herself.
Instead of running off, she wandered over with hungry curiosity.
Victor offered her handfuls of hay while Johnny pet her neck, and she happily took the food.
She’d come far in just a week. By now, she was letting Victor touch her head and shoulders, and with a few more sessions she might let him replace her ratty, faded halter.
“Maybe I should name her somethin’ like Admiral,” Johnny muttered as he scratched her withers, which she was learning to enjoy. “To stick with my naming theme.”
“I like that.”
“Or maybe I do somethin’ else, since she ain’t related to the others.” Johnny paused in thought. “You got any suggestions?”
“I’m leaving it up to you.”
“I need some ideas. She’s a big gal, so she needs a name that demands respect.”
“Dona,” Victor said without thinking.
“Huh?”
“Dona. In Spanish it’s an honorific term you put in front of an older woman’s name when you want to convey respect.”
“I kinda like it. I can pronounce it at least. Dona,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the n. “How’s that sound?”
Victor snickered. “You’re a real natural.”
After giving Dona a good scratching, Johnny told Victor to get back to his work so Johnny could have a training session with her. Maybe Johnny didn’t have the knowledge or experience gentling feral or fearful horses, but he had the instinct, just like his niece.
* * *
In mid-May, Victor was gone a whole week, first to a horse show, then two clinics, then another horse show.
When he got home at last, he still needed to spend two hours unloading the horses and tack before he could finally escape to his house and fall face first into the couch.
He wasn’t aware he’d fallen asleep there until he woke up around midnight with dried drool on his cheek and an aching imprint of his belt buckle on the skin of his stomach.
He removed his pants, took a piss, then headed back to the kitchen for a drink and a snack.
On the counter he found a large cup of water filled with several handfuls of wildflowers, along with a note written in Johnny’s messy scrawl.
Taylor picked these for you down by your stream. Sorry I couldn’t find a vase.
Victor smiled to himself and leaned over to smell the collection of blue vervain, daisies, and Queen Anne’s Lace.
He reread the note again, shaking his head.
God forbid Johnny write anything more sentimental than this after they’d spent a whole week apart.
He wondered if the flowers were Taylor’s idea or if Johnny was simply giving her credit because he was too chickenshit to fess up.
Victor was up at six the next morning, and his day wasn’t over until he’d worked through his schedule of three lessons in the morning and then five rides in the afternoon with four horses in for training and then Cyclone to finish it up.
He ordered pizza for dinner because he didn’t feel like cooking, then settled onto his couch to eat it.
After he’d consumed a few pieces, the door swung open to admit Johnny.
“Wow, what happened to you?” Victor asked, because Johnny’s backside was smeared with dirt and he was walking with a slight limp straight to the refrigerator. He threw open the door to root around inside.
“Got run over by a damn cow,” Johnny muttered, yanking out a carton of orange juice and taking a swig.
“Damn. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Johnny tossed the carton back into the fridge and shut the door. “Just hurtin’ a bit, but it ain’t nothin’ sleep can’t fix.” Johnny stood there for a second like he didn’t know what to do or say next, but he finally met Victor’s gaze. “How’re you?”
“Exhausted but happy to be home. Thank you for the flowers, by the way.”
“Oh yeah. Taylor wanted to get those to ya.”
“Mhm.”
Johnny either didn’t catch Victor’s skeptical tone or didn’t care, because he walked off for the bathroom without another word. So much for a welcome home kiss. A minute later, Victor heard the shower hissing. With a sigh, Victor returned to the show he’d been watching before Johnny’s arrival.
Ten minutes later Johnny emerged wearing a fresh shirt and jeans from the stack he’d been bringing and leaving at Victor’s place with increasing regularity as their lives intertwined.
Johnny was at Victor’s house so often that Victor wondered when they’d technically be living together.
It was so much like a man to move in before he said, “I love you”.
Johnny flopped onto the other side of the couch, wiping his hand through his wet hair to dry it.
“Lord Almighty, my boss’s been on my last nerve.
I’ve had to pick up shifts from two guys that he fired, and to be honest with ya, I’d rather take a trip to Hell and back than work 60 hours ever again. You’re so lucky you’re your own boss.”
“I have to do my own taxes.”
“Poor you.” Johnny gave Victor that goofy smile that always got Victor’s heart going. “How was your show? You win anything?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll get ‘im there. Ain’t no better rider out there.”
“You’re sweet,” Victor told him, reaching out and placing a hand on his knee. “Have you had much time to work with Dona?”
“No, but my sister brought Taylor by a few times this week and I know she’s been messin’ around with her. Ain’t no horse on this earth safe from Taylor’s clutches.”
“That’s good.” Victor squeezed Johnny’s knee, then rubbed a circle with his thumb before dropping his hand to Johnny’s foot. “Want a foot rub?”
Johnny snorted, then sobered when he realized Victor wasn’t joking. “Serious?”
“It’s been a long week for both of us.”
Johnny lifted an eyebrow. “I ain’t gonna stop ya.”
Victor situated himself on the couch so their legs were entwined, then perched Johnny’s leg on his thigh so that he had easy access to Johnny’s left foot.
This allowed him to dig his thumbs into the arch of Johnny’s foot and down his heel.
Johnny leaned back with a sigh and stared at the ceiling as Victor worked.
“Never had a foot rub before,” Johnny murmured.
“No? No girlfriend’s ever done this?”
“Women don’t wanna touch men’s feet.”
“Good thing I’m not a woman then.” When Johnny lifted his head to shoot Victor a look, Victor smiled. “Relax and let me take care of you.”
Johnny’s voice was small and quiet when he replied, “Yeah, okay.”
Victor spent five minutes on each foot, enjoying Johnny’s expressions of pleasure and relief as Victor worked.
Over time, Johnny’s face pinkened, and when Victor glanced at Johnny’s crotch, he saw a definite bulge hardening.
So after he finished rubbing Johnny’s right foot, he dropped it and slid up between Johnny’s legs, forcing them apart and up to accommodate the width of Victor’s hips.
Johnny let out a sound of surprise and alarm, but it was quickly muffled by Victor’s mouth on his.
The tension in Johnny’s body faded, and he wrapped both arms around Victor’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
To get better contact with Johnny’s groin, Victor grabbed him under one knee and lifted his thigh toward his chest. Johnny moaned, arching against him.
Victor wasn’t sure he wanted bottom surgery, but at times like this it sure would come in fucking handy.
It would take the hassle out of topping.
“Been wanting this all week,” Johnny muttered against Victor’s mouth, one hand fisting the back of Victor’s shirt while the other slid through his hair. “Fuckin’ Christ.”
“Can I fuck you?” Victor said in a breathy exhale.
Confusion set in. “But you ain’t got a—”
“I have strap ons. And a prosthetic.”
“But…” Johnny sucked in another wet breath of air. “Surely you don’t get much outta that, right?”
“I get lots out of it.”
“Really?”
“My prosthetic has a vibrator inside. But even the ones that don’t, I still get something out of it. There’s friction and… mental stimulation, I guess.”
“Oh.” Before he could respond, Victor slid his hand further down and grasped a light handful of his balls. Johnny half groaned, half snorted, wiggling under the pressure.
“Do you bottom?” Victor found himself asking.
This question seemed to shake loose Johnny’s thinking brain, because he swallowed and blinked himself into a more sober coherence. “I have, yeah.”
“Really?”
“I worked at those truck stops—”
Victor rushed to cut him off; he didn’t want Johnny thinking about that shit. “I mean recreationally.”
“Sure. Sometimes.” At this, Johnny’s face flushed a slightly more vivid pink. “It ain’t bad.”
“Good. Awesome. Alright, just lemme…” Victor sat up, shoving his hair out of his face because he was in desperate need of a haircut. “I gotta get my dick.”
Johnny snickered, still red-faced and breathless. “Pick a nice one for me.”