Lone Star (5 page)

Mitch reached for his glass and took a long swallow.

That was the problem with this kind of thing. It was too easy to fall into old patterns. The evening should have felt like any dinner with old friends you no longer had much in common with. Not a homecoming. But the Eisleys were so warm and welcoming and Web was so much the old Web, and before long Mitch was going to start wondering whether he could be happy back in Llano.

“I guess you’ve been all over the world?” Allie asked enviously, interrupting his reflections.

“A few places.”

“Like where?”

“London, Tokyo, Leningrad, Paris.” Mitch shrugged. “It’s work, though. It’s not like going on a vacation. We rehearse seven hours a day and then we perform at night. I’ve been to a lot of places, but I haven’t seen a lot of the places I’ve been to.” He wasn’t that crazy about traveling, to be honest. It had been exciting at first, but it got tiring living out of a suitcase, always being on the move.

“I sure would like to see you dance,” Mrs. Eisley said. “Are you coming to Texas anytime again soon?”

“Not that I know of.” He was apologetic. Mrs. Eisley was so nice he hated to disappoint her in any way.

“Web’s seen you dance,” Allie put in.

Mitch nearly choked on his drink. A quick look at Web showed him preoccupied with chasing down every bean in his tree bean salad. His face was red. Or maybe that was the lighting.

“That’s right.” Aunt Mamie helped herself to more potatoes. “We couldn’t go. It was the Black Tie and Boots Inaugural Ball, but Web went. You were performin’ in Austin as I recall.”

“
The Dream
.” Mitch was fascinated by Web’s expression. Web was looking everywhere but at him.

“We’ve got two choices for dessert.” Mrs. Eisley interrupted his thoughts. “Aunt Mamie baked her world-famous pecan pie but Web remembered that you always liked ice cream best. So we’ve got strawberry ice cream with guajillo chile and lime.”

Dessert was served but Mitch had no idea if he ate pecan pie or homemade ice cream or one of the china plates. The conversation continued and more wine was drunk, but all he could think about was the fact that Web had come to Austin to see him dance—and he’d never known a thing about it.

Why?

Why had Web done that? And why hadn’t Web let Mitch know? It didn’t make any sense. Or was that the wine befuddling his thoughts? No, there wasn’t enough wine in the world to explain—or not explain—

Well, okay. Maybe he had
had
a little too much to drink.

Which didn’t change the fact that Web had come to see him in Austin.

And that meant something. It
had
to mean something. But what?

At last the evening was over and it was time for goodbyes, which was all Mitch had been thinking about for the last hour. That Web would walk him out to his car and Mitch could finally ask him why he had come to Austin.

“Are you walking me out?” he asked Web as Web held his jacket for him. They were standing in the hall, Mitch having said his goodbyes to everyone in the front room. Christmas carols were playing, the music camouflaging their conversation.

“I’m drivin’ you home.” Web watched Mitch try a couple of times to zip his jacket.

That meant something right there, didn’t it? Men did not casually help other men into their jackets in the regular world.

Mitch raised his face to Web. “You are?”

“I sure am.” Web was smiling, but he was serious.

Mitch’s initial pleasure faded. “I’m not drunk.”

“I don’t think you’re drunk, but you’re over the legal limit.”

“Three glasses of wine. I drank less than anyone tonight. Except maybe your mama. I sure as hell drank less than you.”

“True. But you’re not used to drinkin’, and you’ve already used up your allotment of Christmas miracles.”

Mitch made a sound of disgust, temporarily forgetting that he’d wanted a chance to be alone with Web anyway. Web opened the door and Mitch followed him out into the cold, moon-silvered night. Their breath frosted in the wood smoke–scented air, their boots crunched on the dry, frozen ground.

They climbed inside the white pickup truck parked behind the house, and Web turned on the heater.

“I’m glad you came to dinner.”

Mitch, fumbling with the seat belt, looked at him, but it was too dark to make out his expression by the light of the dashboard.

“Me too.”

That was all either of them said until they were on their way. Mitch watched the house growing smaller and smaller behind them until it vanished in the red dust of the taillights.

“I used to pray my daddy would go on a long trip and your family would adopt me.” He was ashamed of the words once they left his mouth.

Web changed gears. “I know.”

Sure he knew. He’d known Mitch too well not to know Mitch envied him a little. Well, okay, a lot. Mitch had longed for a family that seemed as warm and accepting as the Eisleys. Mrs. Eisley was as pretty and nurturing as the mom in a 1950s family drama, and Mr. Eisley was both easygoing and steady as a rock. He’d been a great one for laying his big paw on your shoulder and dispensing fatherly wisdom.

But it was still not the kind of thing you could—should—ever admit. “I know he—my father—did the best he could do.”

Web said nothing.

The tires ate up the road. In a matter of minutes Web would be dropping Mitch off and driving away. If he didn’t say something now, he might never get the chance again.

“Did you really come and see me dance in Austin?”

Web expelled a long breath as though he’d been holding it, waiting for the question. “Yep.”

“Why didn’t you…”

“Why didn’t I what?” Web’s voice was even. “Go backstage and say hello? I meant to. I went all the way to Austin with that very purpose in mind, but when I saw you on that stage somethin’ changed. I saw that you were right where you needed to be.”

The instinctive protest that surged through Mitch startled him. It was nearly a physical reaction. Like his body responding to a severe food allergy, rejecting the very idea. “You should have found me, you should have said hello.
Something
.”

His voice was too raw. Mitch reddened, glad for the darkness that concealed so much.

“I figured if you’d wanted to hear anythin’ I had to say you wouldn’t have left the way you did.” That wasn’t fair. Mitch started to protest, but Web added, “You were…beautiful. Like somethin’ magical. From a fairy tale. Or another world.”

“You should have come back and said hello. Said something.”

“Maybe,” Web conceded at last.

Not much of a concession. Mitch was remembering how he’d danced all those performances wondering if there was anyone from home in the audience, wondering—hoping—that someone might be waiting outside the stage doors. By then he wasn’t even hoping that someone would be Web. He was just longing for any little sign that he was missed, that someone cared he was gone. Had even
noticed
he was gone. But of course no one had been waiting.

He had grown up a lot on that tour.

The fact that Web had actually been there, but not let him know, almost hurt worse.

Everything might have been different…

And now?

And now they were back at the ranch, just as Mitch had feared, and there was still so much to say and no time to say it. Maybe no point in saying it.

Web swung the steering wheel in a neat half circle, parking right in front of the house. The porch light burned cheerfully but there was no welcome there. It was just a light fixture on a wooden structure.

The truck’s engine continued to rumble, the exhaust floating red in the glare of the taillights. Mitch couldn’t think of what to say. He knew he should get out now. Thank Web for the lift and get out. Neither moved or spoke.

At last, to his relief Web turned the engine off. They sat in silence gazing out the windshield at the stars across the night sky. Mitch racked his brains. There was probably something really obvious he should tell Web.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Web said immediately, uncompromisingly, “I wouldn’t be here if I was.”

Mitch thought that over. “But there must have been men you got close to over the years?”

“Sure. Nobody I wanted to take home to meet my mama.”

Mitch thought that over. He wished he could read Web’s face in the darkness. “It’s true? Your family knows about you?”

Web’s head moved in assent.

“How did that go?”

“It wasn’t any big drama. After you lit out, I said, ‘Daddy, girls are all right but I don’t guess I’m ever going to get married.’ He said, ‘Son, that’s kinda the way your mama and I figured it. The way we see it, your little sister is goin’ to get married and divorced enough for both of you.’”

“The hell he did.” Mitch started to laugh. Web so perfectly captured the slow, exaggerated style of speech his father used when he was spinning one of his stories.

“Hand to the Bible.”

Mitch shook his head, still laughing. He gazed out at the dark shapes of the windmill and barn and smokehouse.

“I was seeing someone in New York.”

“I figured.”

“A couple of days ago I walked into my dressing room and he was…”

“What?”

Mitch could feel Web staring at him though it was unlikely Web could read his expression in the darkness any easier than he could read Web’s.

“He was with someone else.”

“The hell.”

“He was standing there, leaning against my dressing table getting a blow job from Na—with a guest artist.” For a moment Mitch could see it all again: Innis’s face contorted with bliss—and then alarm—his own mirrored, stricken expression, and Natalie Dies’s wide-eyed reflection, her pretty pink mouth still wrapped around Innis’s cock.

Web said after a pause, “If he was in your dressing room he must have wanted you to see it.”

“No.” Mitch shook his head. “Maybe. Soloists don’t have their own dressing room. I was supposed to be in rehearsal for the next six hours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m probably not the easiest guy to live with.”

“Probably not.”

Mitch spluttered, “Thanks!”

Web said, “You were always higher strung than a phone pole in the Himalayas, Mitch. That’s the truth. I don’t guess you’ve got a lot mellower although it looks like you got everything you wanted.”

Mitch tried to read the black silhouette of Web’s profile. “What is it you think I wanted?”

“You wanted to be a famous ballet dancer and you wanted to get the hell out of Llano. And you wanted them both as fast as you could get them.”

Mitch looked away out the window at the moonlight buildings. The tightness in his throat made it hard to get the words out. “Those weren’t the only things I wanted.”

“I guess they were what you wanted most.”

Mitch shook his head, but Web either didn’t see him or didn’t believe him.

Web said finally, “So what is this about? Gettin’ even? Levelin’ the playin’ field?”

Mitch could have played dumb.
So what is what about?
That would have been the safe thing to do. The sane thing. He reached for Web’s hand, found it in the darkness. Web’s fingers laced through his as though they’d been holding hands all their lives. Maybe they had. They had been friends a lot longer than anything else.

“I don’t know what this is about,” Mitch admitted. “Except that I want to be with you tonight.”

He could feel Web thinking it over. “Okay,” Web said, and they both laughed.

They were still laughing as they reached for each other.

The first kiss was tentative. The second kiss not so much.

They had kissed as boys, but back then the simple pleasure of mouths pressed together and shared breath had been fraught with their own insecurities about who and what they were. Kissing had somehow seemed more
gay
than the other things they did, and neither of them had been totally comfortable with it.

So it was a surprise to realize how familiar the taste of Web’s mouth was. Twelve years ought to make a difference, seeing that it was unlikely Web still lived on chili dogs, Dr Pepper and Goodart’s Peanut Patties. But Web still tasted sweet as Mitch parted his lips with a gentle tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring Web’s instant, generous response. Yes, they’d both learned a few things over the years. Web’s tongue touched his own. It really didn’t get a lot more personal than tongues twining in the dark, moist heat of two men’s mouths.

Mitch broke the kiss with reluctance and one final, teasing lick. The hardness under his caressing hand began to throb more urgently, and he was conscious only of wanting to make this good for Web. The best ever. Maybe he had been a moody, difficult kid, but he had loved Web with all his heart, and if he hadn’t taken the time to show it then…

He opened his eyes and froze. Past Web’s head he could see something big and dark looming outside the glass of the window on the driver’s side. He had a hurried glimpse of huge gleaming eyes, giant smoking nostrils, shining horns—

“
Jeee-zus!
” He fell back against his door.

Web turned to face the threat, throwing a protective arm across Mitch, blocking him from the danger—whatever danger it was. “What? What is it?”

“That
thing…
”

“What thing?” Web threw hasty looks back at Mitch, while still scanning the night for the impending attack.

“That…thing…” Mitch peered over Web’s shoulder. There was nothing filling the driver’s side window, nothing standing next to the car. Nothing in the yard besides their own truck. “Where did it go?”

“Where did what go?” Now Web’s full attention was on Mitch.

Mitch opened the truck door and slid out, evading Web’s restraining hand. Web jumped out after him as Mitch took a quick, disbelieving turn around the yard. He crossed to the truck and knelt to examine the ground outside the driver’s door.

No hoof prints. Not that he could see.

“I could have
sworn
—”

“What is it you think you saw?”

“I thought…I was sure…it doesn’t matter.” He looked up. “You won’t believe me.”

“Why won’t I believe you?” Web’s face was illuminated by the moonlight. His brows were drawn together in a frown. Meeting Mitch’s gaze, realization slowly dawned. His mouth quivered. “No. Don’t tell me.”

“It was just the shadows,” Mitch said shortly, rising. “Just the way the shadows fall from the porch.”

Web nodded gravely. “Sure.”

“I didn’t say it,” Mitch warned him. “So you better not say it.”

“I won’t say it,” Web assured him. “But maybe I better check with the nearest farm and make sure no one’s missin’ a reindeer.”

He was still laughing as he followed Mitch inside the house. Mitch ignored him, turning on the lamps. He gave Web a couple of menacing looks but that just started Web laughing again. Mitch shook his head. He’d be laughing too if their positions were reversed, and it was nice to have company even if Web was starting to push his luck. Mitch wasn’t that drunk, no matter what Web thought. Of course, he’d rather be drunk than having a mental breakdown, but he was pretty sure he was as sane as ever. Which might not be a big endorsement. No, his reindeer sighting had to be the result of the play of shadows in the moonlight.

Whatever it was, it was over and done and he would just as soon forget about it. Mitch leaned against the wood-paneled wall, studying Web.

Web leaned against the sofa back, studying Mitch right back. He was smiling but there was no meanness in the smile. He looked like he thought Mitch seeing reindeers was sort of endearing.

Mitch relaxed a little. “Did you want another drink?”

That, surprisingly, sobered Web. He shook his head.

“Good. I was thinking of poisoning it.” Mitch crossed the distance between them. It took a fair bit of determination—it had been easier in the dark—but Web opened his arms, and suddenly everything was right again.

“Same ol’ sweet-tempered sidewinder.” Web smiled as he angled his face for Mitch’s kiss.

Yes, everything was right again.

He took his time savoring the taste and scent and feel of Web’s mouth moving on his. It seemed to melt his heart right in his chest, melt it all away and send the bittersweet distillation flowing through his veins in emotional adrenaline. To be with Web again. Even if just for this one night. How many times had he dreamed of it? Dreamed of it and been angry and impatient with himself for such weakness.

He caught Web’s hand and drew him down the hallway to his bedroom. There was only a single bed in there but no way would he ever be able to sleep in his father’s bed.

They stripped in the darkness with only the light from the hall to guide their movements, then lay down on the flannel sheets, holding each other not quite tentatively, but gently.

“I don’t have anything with me.” Mitch was thinking aloud. “I wasn’t planning on anything like this.”

“I’ve got it taken care of.”

Mitch raised his head. “You do?”

He felt rather than saw Web nod.

“You thought this was going to happen?”

“I didn’t know,” Web replied. “I sure wasn’t goin’ to take a chance on not being prepared if it did.”

Mitch squinted into the darkness, trying to see the small bottle Web held. “What the hell’s that? Hoppes Number Nine?”

Web chuckled. There was a whisper of plastic breath and the shine of liquid on his fingers.

“You always carry that?”

“Nuh-uh. No, sir. I picked up this here bottle in your honor.”

“I don’t know if my
honor
is—” Mitch caught his breath as Web leaned back so he could use the light from the hall to see what he was doing. His fingers slipped into the delicate crevice between Mitch’s flesh. His fingers worked, smoothing the silky liquid into the tensed muscles. He took his time.

“How’s that? That still your sweet spot?”

Mitch tried to swallow the revealing sounds threatening to spill out.

“Warmer?” Web teased with voice and hands.

Mitch nodded.

“Hmm?”

Mitch panted, “Y’all are gettin’ boiling hot. Hotter.”

“
Y’all
are too.” Web nuzzled him. “You’re starting to sound like a regular Texan again. Did you hear what you said at supper?”

“When?” What were they talking about?
Why
were they talking?

Web mimicked softly, “
Are the drug cartels fixin’ to target Texas Rangers?
”

Now there was a way to kill the mood. “Don’t talk about that.”

Web responded to the sharpness in his tone. “Sorry. Shhh. I’m just foolin’ with you.” He went back to stroking Mitch with oiled and expert fingers, petting and pampering until Mitch was writhing in the bedclothes, desperate for it.

He gasped, “Not that I want this to stop—ever—but I’m not exactly a virgin, you know.”

“I know.” And Web did, of course. He’d been the one who’d been there and done that.

“Let’s try this…” Mitch shifted onto his right hip, no easy move given their cramped quarters, and Web wriggled around—it was hard to tell given Mitch’s own position. The bedsprings squeaked noisily. Web’s warm hands closed on Mitch’s hips, guiding him back and up a little, and then Mitch felt the pressure against his entrance. He bit his lip. Web was a sight bigger than Innis.

But Web took his time, brushing the head of his cock back and forth against Mitch’s entrance. The friction, the tease of pressure, felt very good, and Mitch’s sphincter muscle began a funny fluttering in time to his pounding heart.

He was half resting in Web’s lap and the softness of hair and warmth of skin was a pleasing contrast to the hard muscle probing him, seeking access. Just for an instant he rested his head against Web’s shoulder. Sometimes that was the thing he most wanted, just to be held in strong, kind arms. Web kissed his temple, continuing that slight rocking movement. His big hand rested on Mitch’s groin and he fondled him, cradling the fragile sack of his balls.

Mitch moaned, arching pleasurably. Web kissed his shoulders, blew gently at the curls on Mitch’s nape and nuzzled the thin skin behind Mitch’s ear.

“I always did like the way you move.” Web fingered the fold of skin where it joined Mitch’s body, massaging the sensitive area behind the sack, circling upward to his anus and back down to the testicles. “You like that?”

“Ask a damn fool question,” Mitch gasped. “Don’t stop. Please, God, don’t stop.”

“I ain’t gonna stop.” Web teased up to the ring of muscle and down again. “You like this too?”

Mitch moaned again, lifting his left leg to give Web better access. The world had narrowed down to this, the sensation of touch, of Web’s hands on his body.

Innis usually talked dirty at this point, and sometimes Mitch had to struggle not to laugh.
Ooh, baby, what you do when you stick it into meeee
. Mitch had found it embarrassing at first, though he’d grown used to it. But Web just talked to him in that quiet, gentle way, told Mitch how beautiful he was, how good it felt to hold him and touch him, and he promised Mitch he could let go and fly and Web would catch him, would always catch him.

The same things Web had always said—and about as meaningful—but they still worked their magic as they’d always done. Probably because Mitch wanted to believe they were true. Even if just for these five seconds.

Web scooted down the bed, resting his head on Mitch’s right thigh. He nudged Mitch’s legs more widely apart and substituted his tongue for his fingers. Mitch cried out at the sensation of hot wet muscle licking from balls to ass.
“Web.”

He felt as though he were shattering inside, as though everything tight and resistant was cracking into miraculous patterns like frost etched across a window, all the ice falling away.

Web probed the area, sucked at the join of sack and body and bit softly into the taut rise of buttock.

Mitch whimpered. “What are you doing to me?”

“Nothin’ yet. You just hold on.”

Mitch shuddered wildly. “Hurry. Don’t make me wait.” He’d been waiting too long as it was. Years, if he was honest.

But Web wouldn’t be rushed. He continued his leisurely, delightful torment while Mitch panted and pleaded for more.

“Sometimes the journey’s half the fun,” he whispered, finding Mitch’s mouth again.

“I’m earning frequent flyer miles here…”

Web’s laugh was husky. His cock pushed against Mitch’s hole, pushed hard and then shoved in.

Every muscle in Mitch’s body contracted. Web was whispering in his ear, stroking him, reassuring him. He didn’t need the reassurance really, it was just the surprise of it, his body relearning to accommodate Web, who felt so strange and so familiar at the same time. Web stayed still, giving him time.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Web’s breath was warm against Mitch’s ear. “Special. Like nobody else.”

Mitch shoved back. “Go on then.” They began to move in their own
pas de deux
, accompanied by the rustle of sheets, the pound of the headboard, the ping of the bedsprings.

Sometimes, with Innis at least, it could turn competitive. Who got to be on top, who could thrust harder, go longer…sometimes it didn’t feel as much like making love as winning at sports. It had never been like that with Web, and it wasn’t like that now. Web was generous. Generous on a grand scale, generous like Texas was big. With every stroke, long or short, he aimed to please—and his aim was true.

It felt
so
good…was that just superior technique or something more? The wonderful sensations peaked, and oh, the power and the glory of it…he was coming at last, every bone, muscle, nerve—every cell in his body—reborn in the blessing of beautiful release. Mitch cried out, smothering the sound against his forearm.

Web held him tighter still, cradling him close, his own breathing fast and shallow. Mitch reached up awkwardly, trying for a kiss, and managing an awkward graze of mouths. He ground his hips and Web stiffened and began to come.

Mitch smiled faintly at the uninhibited shout Web gave, arms and thighs locked around him as his seed spurted out hot and sticky.

All the nights he had gone to sleep in this cold house in this hard bed, comforting himself by imagining Web was with him. He’d never have realized under what circumstances the dream would finally come true.

“Okay?” Web’s voice was gruff as they continued to hold each other, their bodies echoing the tiny shivers and gasps.

Mitch nodded.

“You want me to go?” Web asked a while later.

Mitch turned his head on the pillow. “No.”

After a time, he knew that Web slept. Mitch closed his eyes.

Mitch gasped and sat up.

First light picked out his suitcase, the faded squares where the posters of Baryshnikov had hung before his father ripped them down, the framed portrait of his mother on the dresser. The rest of the room was shrouded in soft gloom.

“Whoa. Easy. Easy.” Web stroked his arm, gently tugging Mitch back under the blankets. “Did y’all forget where you were?”

Mitch threw him a quick look. Web sounded wide awake. He looked wide awake. He reached a friendly arm around Mitch’s shoulders, pulling him to the pillow of his broad shoulder.

Mitch shook his head, closing his eyes. He’d been sleeping so well up to that point. Maybe he could lower himself into that slipstream once more…

The hammering of his heart slowed to its natural efficient rhythm. He could feel it pounding in counterbeat to the calm thump of Web’s as he settled his head on Web’s chest. Web’s golden chest hair tickled his nose, and he itched his face against Mitch.

“What did you dream?” Web dropped a casual kiss on Mitch’s hair.