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Jake groaned, his breathing rapid as he yanked Tor’s jeans open and pulled out Tor's thick cock. Jake had actually inspected Tor rather thoroughly just that morning, but it was always a good idea to double-check these things.

Tor’s prick was rigid, so hard it made his own cock swell further in response. It took no time at all before Tor was fucking Jake’s mouth, his hands tight on Jake’s shoulders. Jake traced the thick vein with his tongue, then the ridge around the head. Tor gasped softly, and Jake sucked hard, stroking Tor’s shaft with the flat of his tongue, loving the scent of sweat and sex.

Tor’s balls were heavy, and Jake cupped them in his hand, fingers pressing on the soft skin behind them until Tor started thrusting hard. Jake moaned, Tor’s thick cock sliding and pushing between his lips, nudging the back of his throat. When Tor’s flavour was flowing into Jake’s mouth and Tor’s sounds were nearly constant, Jake pulled away with a grin.

“You gonna come in my mouth or are you going to fuck me?” he asked, voice tight with need.

Tor growled and pushed him to the ground, fingers tearing at Jake’s jeans.

Oh. God, Jake couldn’t remember Tor being so needy, so quickly reduced to this urgency. Tor’s need fired his own, make him just as desperate, and he barely waited until Tor had his jeans tugged down before rolling over onto all fours, offering himself.

Jake heard a muffled curse behind him and the sounds of Tor going through his pockets.

It seemed an eternity before he heard the snap of lube being opened and his back tightened in anticipation.

Tor didn’t waste time. Slippery fingers slid over his skin and Tor’s mouth fastened on his back, teeth scraping, as two fingers stabbed into him, then three, then they were gone.

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“Ready?” The metal at the tip of Tor’s cock was teasing at his hole and Jake was about ready to shoot his load just from that and the husky sound of Tor’s voice.

“Fuck me.”

Tor slammed into him and they both gasped.

“Oh fuck. God, again.” Jake could barely breathe. Filled and consumed, he wanted more, needed the bite of metal in him, needed to really feel it. Tor did it again, knowing the angle so well after all their time together. He shot the head of his cock over Jake’s prostate, faster and harder, again and again, until Jake thought he might die from not coming.

“Mine,” Tor growled in Jake’s ear, thrusting deep.

“Yours,” Jake whispered in return.

With a long groan Tor fucked him, thrusts longer and more erratic, his rhythm shot.

Within moments he cried Jake’s name and came, cock throbbing as he poured heat into Jake’s body.

It was feeling Tor come that sent Jake over, the pulse of Tor’s prick, the sound of Tor's release, the smell of their sweat. His stomach clenched as his orgasm rolled through him, his arms shaking as he held them both up.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned as he shot, unable to think of anything other than the sweet feeling that washed over him.

They collapsed onto their sides, Tor curling around him, as they caught their breath.

“So, that worked,” Tor said with a grin that Jake could feel against his shoulder blade.

“Good idea, piercing.”

“God, yes. Gonna be a good weekend. Might have trouble riding on Monday.”

“Hell, you’re gonna have trouble walking, Taggart.”

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Part Six

Chapter Thirty-two

Jake was cutting it close, he knew. It was late in the afternoon and he was making an emergency trip to town to pick up a special order of seed, the sky dark and roiling behind him as he drove. It was his own fault he’d left it so late, but he hadn’t known that he was going to be so busy the next morning, and the urgency for the seed had sort of been sprung on him. So he’d taken a look at the clock and figured he’d be able to get to Sullivan’s Seed and Feed just before closing. If nothing went wrong.

Which of course meant that the skies opened up and the rain started to pour down, sheets of gray obscuring his vision. And then the back left tire blew, sending the truck wobbling as he eased over to the side of the road.

“Well, fuck.” Jake slammed his hand on the steering wheel and glared out the windshield as the rain fell. No help for it, he was going to get soaked. At least he had a spare tire, and a jack this time. He’d gotten caught out in the fields once with no spare, and that was one time too many. It was just common sense to make sure every truck on the spread had the essentials now. Oil, a small gas can, tire, jack and first aid kit. All in a lovely mess behind the seat.

It took some struggling, but he managed to get the tire and jack out, his shirt already sopping wet and stuck to him by the time he wrestled them out of the truck. With another curse he jacked the truck, getting wetter and colder by the second, his mood as black as the clouds.

Water was running off his hat brim and down his back like someone had turned a faucet on. Mud on his knees and hands, and he almost snapped his wrist, fighting with the lug nuts when he finally got the spare on the damn truck, the water and clay making his hands slip on the jack. Jake stood up and threw the flat into the bed of the truck, turning to face the road just as some idiot in a big two ton flew by, spraying mud and water high into the air, covering him again.

“Fuck!” he yelled at the truck’s taillights.

He was wet and cold, covered in crap, and there wasn’t much chance of getting to Sullivan’s on time, but he was only ten minutes out of town, so he thought he’d give it a try.

The truck’s heater wasn’t the best, but it was better than shivering, so he cranked it up and headed into town, taking the secondary road when he got the exit. That would let him drive past Molly’s Diner, and maybe he’d see how full the parking lot was—not much chance he’d get home in time for supper, and if Molly’s wasn’t too busy, he’d stop in, filthy or not. Not like anyone there would be dressed for the opera or anything.

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Even in the dying light and the rain he could see Molly’s, all lit up and looking as warm as toast as he drove past. And he could see the Sullivan’s Seeds panel van parked under the lights. Looked like he’d missed closing time, but maybe not the chance to get the order.

He pulled into the lot and killed the engine, shivering again when the heater died. He was still wet to the skin, and he couldn’t remember being much dirtier, but he was hungry and cold enough to be craving hot coffee like it was his life’s blood. He also more or less hoped that his rather pathetic state would encourage whoever had the Sullivan’s truck out that it would be a kind thing to open up long enough for Jake to sign the shipping receipt and load up the seed.

The rain hadn’t let up any, and even the short walk to the door would have soaked him if he hadn’t already been soggy. He hated the feeling of wet denim clinging to his legs as he walked, tight and cold against him. All in all, it wasn’t a good day, so far.

He walked into Molly’s and nodded to a couple of people he knew as he made his way to the counter, spotting Sandy Miller there with a cup of coffee, his Sullivan’s jacket still on.

“Sandy,” he said, sitting on the stool next to the man.

“Jesus, Jake. What happened to you?” Sandy looked him up and down, nose wrinkling.

“Mud wrestling?”

Jake shook his head. “Flat tire, rain, fucker in a truck. Was trying to get to your place by closing, got a special order to pick up.”

“Damn.” Sandy lifted his mug and waved Molly herself over. “Have a cup of coffee, and we’ll head back. Think it’s ready for you, no need to make a second trip in if you don’t have to. Seeing as how you’re a mess and all.”

Jake grinned, his spirits lightening immediately. “Thanks, Sandy. Owe you one.”

Sandy waved it off and drank from his mug.

A shadow fell over the counter between them just as Molly put a steaming mug down in front of Jake.

“Faggot,” a low voice hissed.

Jake stiffened, knowing the voice, though he’d not heard it for months. Slowly, without even looking at the man, he stood up, hands clenching. He was aware of the silence in the diner as he turned around to face Pete Neale.

“Too bad you didn’t drown out there,” Neale said with a sneer.

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“How’s your jaw?” Jake asked in a quiet voice.

Neale’s arm went back and was caught by someone standing behind him, and someone else locked their hands on Jake’s biceps.

“Take it outside,” Molly said, her lips a tight line. “And Pete, you’ll not be welcomed back. I don’t put up with this shit in my place.”

Sandy had gotten to his feet just as Neale’s arm had pulled back, and now he grabbed Jake by the elbow. “Let’s just go get your seed, yeah?”

Jake nodded, eyes still locked with Neale’s. “Yeah. Sounds good.” He let Sandy walk him backwards to the door, whoever was holding onto Neale still keeping him there.

The walk through the rain to his truck, and a five minute drive didn’t cool his temper much, though it did make him realize he’d not even gotten to drink his coffee. Cold, wet, hungry and pissed off; it really wasn’t one of his better days.

Sandy let them into the front office as quickly as he could—Jake had long given up on trying to keep any part of himself dry, but Sandy still seemed to have hope. Jake stood dripping in front of the desk, trying not to be impatient as Sandy reached for the receipts stacked at one corner and thumbed through them. The man was doing Jake a huge favour by opening up for him. But as Sandy looked through the stack a second time Jake’s bad humour got the best of him.

“Problem?” he asked, shortly.

Sandy shrugged. “Maybe. Order’s not here. Hold on, let me check something.”

Jake stomped down hard on building irritation as Sandy reached for a second pile, these ones impaled on one of those desk spikes used to hold completed transactions. It wouldn’t be there, there wasn’t any point in looking.

“Ah. Here it is.”

Jake swore. “What do you mean, there it is?”

Sandy gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Jake. Order was picked up yesterday.”

That wasn’t possible, no one had been to town yesterday, except Tor for groceries.

Wordlessly, Jake held out his hand and Sandy passed the slip over. There was an illegible scrawl at the bottom, but the huge ass F of Flynn was hard to miss. “Tor.”

“Yeah, looks like. Sorry.” Sandy really did look sorry, eyeing Jake’s clothes and the mud smeared all over him.

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“Not your fault,” Jake said automatically. He passed the slip back and added, “Thanks for your help, Sandy. I still owe you one.”

Sandy nodded and let him back out, and Jake stomped through the downpour, cursing under his breath. He gave the tire a kick on his way, just on general principles.

The forty minute trip back home took almost fifty due to visibility, and for part of that he was probably going too fast, anyway. He was madder than hell; at Neale, at the weather, at Tor. He was hungry and wet, and he just hoped to hell that they’d thought to save him some supper because his stomach was empty and growling, and goddamn it, why didn’t Tor follow the rules for once and just let him know the seed was taken care of?

By the time he got home the heater in the truck had quit and he was more uncomfortable than he could remember being. He wasn’t sure if he was going to eat first or shower, both ideas having about equal appeal.

The light in the kitchen was blazing, and the one to the porch came on as well as he parked up by the barn. Newly wet down, Jake practically ran into the house, looking for heat.

Steam was rising over the kitchen sink as Kirk finished the dishes. “Jesus, you look like—”

“Hell. Yeah, I know.” Jake tossed his hat on a hook and tried to pry one of his boots off.

“What did y’all save me for supper?”

Kirk froze, one hand in the sink, one reaching for a glass. “Umm…”

Jake stared at him and sighed. Of course. “You didn’t bother?”

“We thought you’d go to Molly’s,” he protested.

Tor sauntered into the kitchen from the living room, chuckling when he saw Jake. “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, funny thing, that. Someone didn’t bother telling me he’d picked up the fucking seed yesterday.” Jake pulled hard and got the other boot off. “So I set out to get it, but I got a fucking flat. In the rain.”

Tor raised an eyebrow at him. “You helped unload the truck, Jake.”

“Wasn’t taking fucking inventory, was I? You’re supposed to tell me when you do shit like that, Tor!” Jake was pretty sure he was yelling, but he didn’t really care. He crossed to the fridge and yanked the door open.

“You didn’t see it, right in front of you?”

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“Not the fucking point, and you know it.” Jake slammed the fridge closed. “You let people know when you do that. So they don’t go to town in the rain, get a flat, wind up talking to Peter fucking Neale, and getting soaked, frozen and starved.” Jake headed down the hall, straight to their room. “I’m taking a shower.”

He made it a point to slam the bedroom door behind him.

Jake went right to the bathroom, turning on the water before starting to strip. He cursed and swore as he peeled his wet jeans off, wishing he could just tear the clammy fabric from his skin. The hot water filled the room with steam and fogged the mirror before he managed to free himself and step into the shower.

He stood there for a long moment, just letting the heat seep into his skin, trying to let go of the tension in his back. He washed off the dirt that had streaked his arms, not surprised to find just as much muck in his hair and on his face. He really was a mess.

The soap bubbles from the shampoo hadn’t quite slid down the drain when large hands settled on his back, Tor stepping up and digging into the muscles. Jake didn’t say a word, just leaned forward and braced himself, letting Tor massage his shoulders and back. He pushed back as strong fingers manipulated knots, melting them away. One by one, Tor found each tense spot and worked at it until Jake felt like he might just slide down the drain himself. He wound up utterly relaxed, leaning on his arms as hot water spilled over him.