excerpt from Chapter 6: Ennis spends more time with his daughters but is tormented by fantasies of what his life with Jack might have been.
He’d
had only fleeting impressions of the run-down ranch in Lightning Flat
on his way in. The house, he’d noticed, had needed painting and
other repairs badly, although it looked solid and Jack’s mother had
kept it scrupulously clean and freshly whitewashed inside. But
Jack’s father’s words, though some of them had bled him out
inside and forced tears to his eyes – the first he’d shown in
front of strangers since childhood – had also made him notice
details of the land and the house’s surroundings on the way out:
“had
some half-baked notion the two o’ you was gonna move up here, build
a cabin, help run the place.”
He’d looked at the barns, the cattle scattered about, the four
mature cherry trees in back, and a flat spot with an ancient grove on
a rise above a stream, about 100 feet from the house. He wouldn’t
have noticed more than the rutted, pebbly road he was driving on if
it hadn’t been for the Old Bastard’s words.
At
least once a week, they had dinner with Jack’s mother and the Old
Bastard, come what may. Her cooking, Jack was quick to admit, was
light-years better than his and the Old Bastard had even become
marginally more friendly since the efforts of two younger men working
on the rundown ranch were starting to bear fruit. But Ennis was
amazed at how skillfully Jack turned these prosaic occasions into
opportunities to tease him. Even the shirt he usually wore to dinner
in The House, as both of them referred to it.
Ennis
had made a trip to Riverton a few months ago to see Jenny in her
senior high school play, in which an actor had appeared wearing a
ripped-up shirt damaged in an offstage brawl. He’d asked Jenny
afterward if the costume people had made a different shirt for every
performance, and she’d hooted. “Daddy, you must be the last
person in the world to hear about Velcro!”
And
he’d had to mention that to Jack. On his next trip to Gillette for
supplies, Jack had taken a sky-blue cotton shirt with him and had the
buttonholes replaced with Velcro, leaving the buttons for public view
to hide how easy it was to rip the shirt off. He’d taken to
wearing it to The House on these dinner occasions and would smile at
Ennis innocently across the narrow table, fingers artlessly brushing
the plackets and cuffs in between bites of Dorothy Twist’s
macaroni and beef casserole. . Once Ennis tried kicking him under
the table but the only result was “ouch! Watch it, Ennis”, after
which Jack’s foot had stealthily crept forward to wedge against his
own. Finally, to avoid looking at Jack, Ennis had complimented Mrs.
Twist on the casserole – ‘ma’am’, he still called her,
unable to say ‘Mother’ as yet – relieved that the uncomfortable
pressure in his jeans wasn’t anything visible under the carefully
patched tablecloth she brought out for these weekly dinners.
Another
thunderstorm was moving slowly in as they walked back to the cabin
later, the lightning that was as much a fixture here as wind throwing
the clouds into sharp relief. But the walk was a short one, Jack
purposely not hurrying, The door had hardly closed behind them
before Ennis had pulled Jack to him, one hand on the back of Jack’s
head as he kissed him and the other hand struggling with the snaps on
his jeans; wondering why Jack didn’t have Velcro put on them as
well. Then he yanked Jack’s modified shirt open, still turned on
by the ripping sound it made; and pulling it off his shoulders fast
enough that Jack had to pull apart the cuffs to keep them from
ripping in earnest: “think you’re somethin’ doncha, Jack
Twist?” “I’d say you think so,” Jack answered as he down at
the edge of their bed, pulling off his boots and jeans and still
looking at Ennis with that exaggerated innocence.
Ennis
sat down behind him, running his hands up Jack’s sides,
deliberately bypassing the nipples he knew were so sensitive.
Instead, both his hands traveled down Jack’s unresisting arms,
pulled them out slightly, moved back up the tender skin underneath
from the wrist up to the elbow and then back down. As they did, Jack
crossed his arms just under his shoulders as if hugging himself,
which laid Ennis’ hands over his nipples. Ennis fingered them
lightly with his left hand but only briefly, just long enough to feel
Jack’s muscles tense. He was going to pay him back for that
teasing at dinner. They had world enough now, and time.
His
right hand moved down to Jack’s knee and languidly up the inside of
the thigh, right hand cupping his balls and right thumb caressing
them lightly and then moving forward a bit to trace up and down the
now-throbbing vein in his cock. Jack was gasping now, head arched
back and to one side, giving Ennis plenty of room for leisurely
nibbles down the side of his neck before sinking his teeth lightly
into Jack’s shoulder and sucking hard for a moment.
Jack’s
body jerked forward as if Ennis’ mouth had been a hot piece of
charcoal but Ennis had anticipated that and held his prey in place.
“Tease me willya, Rodeo?” he whispered, but his own breath was
getting ragged and the pressure on his own jeans more insistent. He
released Jack and started to unzip his own Wranglers but Jack, less
intent on teasing him now, turned around and speeded up the process
by several seconds.
read the rest of Chapter 6 at http://talkstocoyotes.livejournal.com/2038.html
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