Authors: Mercy Celeste
“But I can’t kiss you. What if I only want to kiss you? Creed, you’re making me crazy. I don’t understand you.”
“But you want me. All men want me. On my knees. Why should you be any different?”
Eli sat back across Creed’s legs, indecision eating him alive. Want. Hell yeah, he wanted. But was this want like that? He loved looking at the man. He even enjoyed talking with him. This last week he’d come to think of Creed as more of a friend than a rival. A friend he wanted to be naked with. All the time. “What kind of men have you dated? I’ve dated some pricks but none that treated me like that.”
“Dates? Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call any of them dates,” Creed said, looking away as he started to close his jeans.
Eli caught his hands. Decision made. “Leave it. I’m not finished looking at you.”
“Maybe I’m finished being looked at.” Anger entered his eyes now. At least it wasn’t the cold, shuttered, nobody-home look he wore way too often. “Get off me, Eli.”
“Oh, no,
honey
, after what you did in the restaurant, what you made me want, I am so not ready for this to end. Going to pay you back for making me damn near nut in front of Jolene, and then wouldn’t the whole county know I like dick.” Eli trapped both of Creed’s wrists, holding him in case he tried to throw him off like he’d done in the Waffle House parking lot.
“Eli, I don’t want to play,” Creed whispered, his voice taking on that quality from the night before. Scared, helpless. Whatever. His dick said otherwise.
“I do, and I want to play with you, and you’re going to let me.” Eli moved to the floor between Creed’s knees, still holding onto his hands. But Creed was limp beneath him, almost submissive.
“Do you have a condom?” was all Creed said. Eli shook his head and Creed looked away. “Just pull out before … you know.”
What the hell kind of life had Creed led that he’d take whatever Eli wanted to do to him? He sat on his knees, watching Creed’s belly rise and fall rapidly. He didn’t make a sound; he waited. Eli took his hands in his and laced his fingers with Creed’s. “Who hurt you, Creed?”
Creed didn’t answer; he didn’t look at him either. Eli traced his thumb over a series of scars on the man’s inner wrist before he let him go. “Just do what you need to do, Eli. I’m here, I want you to. I need you to.”
“What? What do you need me to do to you, Creed?” Because Eli’s dick had gone limp. Something was wrong here.
“Fuck me. Roll me over and fuck me, want it, need it, I like it rough,” he said in that voice he’d used last night. Higher pitched, sweet, everything that wasn’t Creed. His eyes were cold, distant, shuttered up tighter than a house on the gulf before a hurricane.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Eli told him softly. He linked his fingers with Creed’s with one hand and stroked him with the other. Creed moaned. Just a little. “I’m going to make you feel good. But I’m not going to fuck you.”
Creed looked at him, his eyes puzzled. He squeezed Eli’s hand and nodded. “Okay.”
Eli leaned over him and blew across the head of his cock. Nothing more than that. Lightning flashed in Creed’s eyes; he arched his hips forward and that’s all the invitation Eli needed.
*
Heat engulfed him. Eli’s mouth. Oh shit. He squeezed the hand that held his and tried not to cry out. But it felt so damned good. Just like last night. And just like last night his balls drew up tight ridiculously fast.
“Eli, stop,” he said between gasps of breath. Trying not to make too much noise, he grabbed Eli’s shoulder, digging his fingers in when Eli sucked him down his throat. God, that felt good. Tight and hot and so fucking wet. The urge to come eased off and came back. He dragged the raggedy hat off Eli’s head and twined his fingers in the damp strands of hair. He needed. Oh fuck. His spine went fucking numb. Crying out, he pulled his hand free from Eli’s grip and shoved his wrist in his mouth. Biting. Hard. He wanted to move with Eli’s mouth, move into him, fuck his mouth, his hips arched, Eli gagged.
And then the exquisite heat was gone, and he knew it was time to pay. He was so damned hot now he didn’t care if Eli did spill inside him. Just so long as he came. He needed to come.
“Creed, stop, what are you doing to yourself?” Eli’s voice was tender. He hated when the man surprised him and showed a soft side. He hated when Eli showed any side other than the asshole Creed knew and hated. He’d drawn blood this time. Eli held his arm in his hands; bloody teeth marks clear as day stared back at them. “You don’t have to … Creed?” He looked concerned, maybe afraid. “I want to hear you. There’s no one around for miles. No one to hear you but me. I want to know that you like what I’m doing to you. You do like it, my mouth on you?”
“Yes,” Creed whispered, afraid that if he said it too loud that this would all be over. “Want to fuck your mouth, feels so good.”
“If you want to, then do it, I don’t mind.” He waited for Creed to nod. Slowly he licked the head while Creed watched his eyes grow smoky with lust. “You taste so damned good. Gonna make you come.”
“Eli.” Creed moaned his name because he couldn’t stop himself. Just seeing Eli’s face peering up at him, his lips locked on the tip of his cock, was enough to send him over. Eli had beautiful lips, lips that he’d tasted for a brief moment. His first real kiss and he’d reacted badly. Not that he hadn’t been kissed before; he didn’t count the brutal encounters as kisses. “Need to come.”
Eli smiled around his dick; he took both of Creed’s hands and placed them behind his head. Creed cried out as Eli sucked him deep into his throat; he dug his fingers into Eli’s scalp and thrust in deeper, making Eli gag. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Eli. Fuck.” And that was all it took. He couldn’t stop now if he wanted, Eli’s mouth sucking him hard and deep, letting him thrust deeper with each stroke. “Can’t stop it. Can’t hold … going to come, Eli.” He found one of Eli’s hands and, lacing their fingers together, he went over, shooting scalding ribbon after scalding ribbon into Eli’s mouth.
“Taste so nice,” he heard Eli say seemingly from a distance. He felt a moist kiss on his abused wrist, followed by a tug on his jeans, but in the wrong direction. A heavy weight settled on top of him. Warm breath washed over his face. “Going to kiss you now, Creed Running Wolf, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”
Eli had beautiful lips. Full bottom, not quite as full top lip. Sort of a pinkish color. And Creed wanted to know how those lips would feel on his. Desperately. But Eli didn’t kiss him; he hovered over him as if waiting. For what? Creed ran his hands along Eli’s jawline, teasing his lips with his thumb. Eli groaned and leaned into his caress.
“Okay.”
“‘Okay’ means if I kiss you I won’t end up through the windshield, right? Because I’d really rather not, you know.” Eli smiled as he mimicked Creed, fingers on his face caressing him; his breath, surprisingly sweet, grew rapid the nearer his mouth—
The triple chirp of a siren sent Eli sliding back into his seat. “Fuck it, Randy.” He slammed the steering wheel with the palms of his hands. “Shit, Creed, we fogged up the windows. He’s gonna know—”
“Just relax, Eli.” Creed fumbled with his jeans, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t do up the button. He tugged his shirt down to cover as soon as he had his seat upright again. In time for the tap on the window.
Eli let the window down. “Hey, Randy, you out sightseeing too?”
“Is that what you guys are calling it now days?” Maybe the too curious gleam in the deputy’s eyes was just messing with Eli, which he seemed to enjoy. But somehow Creed didn’t think so when he swept him in that gaze. “Out here at lover’s lane in broad daylight? Eli, you can do better than the old sightseeing lie.”
“Since Creed is new around here, why would you think I lied? The storm forced me to pull over; we were close. I’m showing him more than a grungy downtown and a jail cell.” And that sounded bad even to Creed.
“I just bet you were. Anyway, the storm seems to have passed and the judge says to get back to the ranch or he’ll rescind your day pass privileges.” The deputy was finished playing. “And I’m to make sure you get there.”
“Well, hell, Deputy Randy, you can tell Judge Dickhead to kiss my ass. I’ve still got an hour before I become a pumpkin.”
“More like ten minutes, lover boy, now let’s go.” The deputy smiled a tight-lipped smile and looked across the truck to Creed. He knew. Or suspected. And why wouldn’t he? Two guys sitting in a steamed-up truck for how long—twenty or thirty minutes? Just long enough for a quickie.
“You know where you can shove that, don’t you, Randy?” Eli shouted out of the open window as Randy walked back to his cruiser.
“Don’t make me call Judge Dickhead, Eli, because I would take great pleasure in jacking you up for a week or two,” Randy called back, Creed barely hearing his words over the pounding in his ears.
“And the motherfucker would too. Damn, what did I ever do to him?” Eli dragged his seat belt over his shoulder and started the truck.
“It’s your charming personality, Eli; it rubs people the wrong way when you call them motherfuckers.” Creed didn’t put his seat belt on; instead, he sat sideways in his seat watching Eli’s profile as he drove. “At least the back windows are tinted. He wouldn’t have seen anything.”
“Yeah, but now he thinks I’m a fag.”
“But you are a fag. So what’s the big deal?”
“Are you out? I mean seriously, Creed, this is rodeo, not gay rodeo; big difference. And this town. Have you seen this town? I don’t want Randy or anyone else knowing I’m gay. I especially don’t want Judge Dickhead knowing.”
They’d come to the main road now with the sheriff’s cruiser still following into the gloom of the late afternoon. “How long until we get to your house?” Creed asked out of more than idle curiosity.
“About twenty minutes give or take. Why?” Eli glanced at him, his previous rant tabled if not forgotten.
“Do me a favor in the next twenty minutes?” Creed looked out the back window to see how close the cruiser was.
“Yeah, sure, I guess, what?” Eli glanced at him again, this time for a little longer.
“Don’t wreck,” Creed replied and leaned over the console. He unzipped Eli’s jeans, freeing his cock; a little coaxing was all it took to have Eli moaning. Twenty minutes. That was plenty of time.
“Fuck, Creed, shit,” Eli groaned, slipping his fingers into Creed’s hair and holding him as Creed sucked him deep into his throat. “You’re paying for the reckless driving ticket. Just so you know.”
Creed just smiled, loving the noises Eli made as they drove down the highway with a deputy following them.
Chapter 10
The kid sat a horse like he was part of the animal. Eli hung over the rail watching him take his turn. Another win for the kid in the pole racing category. Eli hadn’t entered this event. First time ever. What was the point? The kid beat him every time.
“He really is magnificent,” he said to no one in particular. He didn’t know anyone was around to hear him and jumped at the deep growl that came from behind him. Shit, he knew that growl. What the fuck had he done to earn that sound this time? He’d mucked out the horse trailer and polished the saddles. There weren’t any other assignments that he knew of today.
“Got your fag panties all bunching up again, Eli?” Owen leaned over the rail beside him. Only twelve years older than Eli, at thirty-one his uncle was an impressive man. Rugged, handsome, tall, built. Mean as fucking hell. Eli thought he was off in the head. But as long as Eli did his chores and paid his way, Owen left him alone now. “Ever notice how he doesn’t notice you? Ever notice how he looks the other way when you come into a room? Ever notice how most decent folk don’t want to be near you?”
This was his last year on the circuit. Eli made that decision standing at the railing; he could feel the rage heating his face. Rage that he tried so hard to control. He tugged his Stetson down over his eyes until he couldn’t see the kid on the other side of the ring. It was true that he’d steered clear of him since that first day when Eli had ungraciously lost to him. He’d lose to him in broncs tonight as well. He always lost to the kid and it was getting old. But damn, Creed could sit a horse; there was no denying that. That long braid flying behind him when he rode a bronc. Eli wanted to—
“Ooh, look, faggot boy has a crush,” Owen hooted, his voice mean. There was no fun in the tone. Eli knew enough to make himself scarce when Owen got into these moods. “I heard him talking once, Eli, called you a fag. Said you disgusted him. Hoped you died of AIDS.”
Owen’s laugh followed him out of the arena and into the bright afternoon sun. He hated doing these big indoor events; there was always too much pressure to win at these things.
“Hey, Eli, are you okay?” The voice that called to him was whispered. He knew that voice. He shivered. Yeah, that’s what he needed right now. Creed might be a bigot, but not all of the younger riders were. Usually they waited to slip away later, after Owen had pulled one of his mysterious disappearances. Have a couple of beers and make out where Owen and his shit couldn’t find him. Right now he needed to forget. One more month and he was done with rodeo. In September he was going to school, two years of online courses, and now another two years to finish up. Maybe when he was out of Owen’s reach he’d come back. He followed the other rider through the rows of trailers and when they were in the shade and out of sight he moved into his arms, letting him help him to forget. He needed to forget. Mouthfuls of blood and flying braids swished through his memory. Yeah. That. A hand cupped him; a tongue slipped into his mouth. Yeah, this.
“Son of a bitch.” The growl sent his friend running, but Eli was too stupid to run. He’d never been caught before. Owen had never really known the truth before; he’d only guessed. Now he knew. And Eli was going to get it.
He managed to curl into a ball against the worst of the blows. The sharp sting of the lash cut through his shirt. A boot connected with his ribs. Something warm seeped down his sides to drip off his belly to the ground below.
* * * *
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone ride like that,” Sawyer said to Eli as they stood leaning over the railing watching Creed and Becca racing around a couple of blue plastic barrels in the middle of Sawyer’s training ring.