Page 11 of Drunk Dialing

Jake snorted. “More like a marmot or a nutria.”

“Nope. You are so not a rodent. Not even a capybara.” Though those were cute and loving, he reckoned. “You’re mine, is what you are.” He kicked off his own boots, the worn leather sliding off with not much pressure.

Jake made a small sound, kind of a snort.

“What is it?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s you, I guess. Do you know how much I love the fact that you got all this money? You could have Luccheses, anything you want. And you love those old work boots. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them. You just keep resoling them.”

He shrugged. “I like what I like, baby.”

And that was it, simple as coming home.

He didn’t need the new and shiny. He liked what he liked, and that was going to be enough. “Come here. I want to kiss you.”

As soon as he spoke, Jake came toward him, eager and ready as all get out. He loved that lean, scarred body, loved the way Jake moved like only cowboys could. Loose in the limb, powerful in the hips.

His breath caught in his chest, and all he could do was stare, his lips parted, a deep groan building in his chest. “Fuck, baby.”

“That’s the plan, cowboy. I want to ache tomorrow, and not from missing you.”

His cock jumped, his breath hitching. “Hell, yes. I want you to know it was me, that I’m the one taking you.”

“That’s never been a question, Treat. Not one time since you and me hooked up.”

“No? Good.” That was how he felt too. So how had they gone so sideways? He reckoned maybe it was because Jake kept pushing him away, saying he wasn’t one to settle down.

He had to admit as well, that he wanted Jake to beg a little, to act as if what he had to offer meant something.

Maybe that he meant more than rodeo.

“I just… I wanted to bring something to us, man. I wanted to be more than the fuck-up kid.”

“You are, baby. You’re amazing. And you’re a hell of a rider.” Jake had just had some bad luck with injuries.

“Pshaw. I’m just a hard-luck bastard right now, and I don’t want to talk about it, fair?”

“Fair.” He kissed Jake hard, because talking was fucking overrated.

Jake tugged his shirt out from his waistband, callused fingers dragging hard over his back. Fuck, that was right. He wanted to feel that touch on his cock, on his belly.

“Let me help,” he said when they broke for air. He damn near killed himself wrangling their clothes. By the time they were done, they were naked and laughing, clinging to each other, both of them in a clench.

They stumbled to the bedroom, and Jake pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his hips, and rocking down against him.

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take what you need.” He would do this as long as he could, then flip them and get the damn lube.

“I’m never going to get enough of you.” Jake moved a little faster, cock beginning to leak. “I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to.” He wanted to make Jake come. More specifically, he wanted Jake to come on his cock. He rolled, just as planned, putting Jake under him. “Spread for me, baby.”

“Uh-huh…” Jake groaned and spread wide, one knee bending to give him more access.

“Look at you.” He had his kit bag open on the nightstand. So he grabbed out the lube, popping it open. “I’m going to get you ready, baby. I’m going to spread you wide.”

Jake nodded, then pulled both legs out and open.

He wet his fingers good, then pressed two fingers to Jake’s hole, circling. Tight. Hot. So perfect.

---