Rattlesnake (12 page)

“Naw.”

Well, that was a relief. It was good to know at least one person in Rattlesnake wasn’t a member of the extended clan. “Well, I’m going to sleep. So wake me up if the world’s ending, I suppose.”

“Okay.”

Night clerk at the Rattlesnake Inn probably wasn’t the most mentally demanding job.

Back in his room, Jimmy spent more time contemplating his reflection. Not out of vanity, but because he hoped if he glared at himself long enough, he’d find some answers to the confusion in his head. But stare as he might, he still didn’t understand why he was sticking around town, why Belinda and Charlie’s antipathy hadn’t chased him away, why his blood rushed hotly in his veins whenever he thought about Shane.

And speaking of hot blood, a lot of it had flowed to his groin, and he considered jerking off for the second time that day. The last time he’d spanked the monkey twice in such a short span of time had been… well, a long time ago.

In the end, though, he resisted the urge. He lay down on his bed fully clothed and attempted to read, appreciating the nice mattress and fluffy pillows. He usually found Stephen King novels engrossing. The man could write. But tonight Jimmy’s thoughts kept straying from the page to the events of the day. He also thought about Tom’s letter, now in the closet in his jacket pocket. He needed to give the damn thing to Shane. Except if he did that now, Shane would learn that Jimmy’s claim to have accidentally wandered into Rattlesnake was a lie. He’d learn that Jimmy knew more about him than he’d been letting on. And that would be it. Jimmy wouldn’t have Shane—wouldn’t get laid.

He fetched the remote control from the armoire and switched on the TV. Belinda must be springing for a good cable package, because he found a lot of channels, including HBO and Showtime. Nothing caught his interest, though. He wasn’t much of a television watcher, never had been. When he was a kid, they didn’t often have a set, or if they did, it transmitted static more than anything else. And as an adult, well, he never stuck around long enough to figure out what was going on in a series. As soon as he started to understand the plot and who the characters were, he’d end up somewhere with no TV for a while, and then he’d get too far behind to bother catching up.

Tonight he ended up clicking the set off and just lying there.

The old hotel made noises at night. Footsteps from the room upstairs, plumbing whooshing, a fan cycling on and off. Somewhere nearby, a door creaked loudly. Maybe tomorrow Jimmy could figure out which one and see if some WD-40 would help. Outside, a car with a faulty muffler rumbled down Main Street. He wondered where it was heading. No couples screamed at one another, no hungry babies cried inconsolably, no sirens wailed, no gunshots echoed. He could almost imagine that the inn was a magical place—that the
town
was a magical place—where all the family members loved one another and protected one another fiercely. Where people found happiness unhaunted by demons. Where the food was always delicious and the bartenders always kind and handsome and interested in middle-aged vagrants.

Yeah, and the ranches were full of rainbow-farting unicorns.

Jimmy might have dozed a little, but when his door creaked open, he snapped very wide-awake. The hallway light outlined Shane for a moment before he closed the door; then he shuffled quietly to the bed. Feigning sleep, Jimmy waited to see what Shane would do.

Shane must have removed his boots in the hallway, because now he dropped them to the floor with a muted thump. Cloth rustled. Jimmy imagined him shrugging out of the Pendleton shirt, peeling off his tee. When Jimmy heard the soft
snick
of a zipper being lowered, his mouth went dry. Shane grunted as he removed his jeans. Painful, probably. Bending seemed hard on him.

But then the mattress dipped as Shane climbed aboard, and he pressed himself tightly against Jimmy’s back, snuffling at his hair. “Awake?” Shane’s breath was minty, as if he’d just brushed his teeth. For no good reason at all, that fact made Jimmy’s heart speed.

Jimmy rolled over. “I am now.”

“But you’re dressed. That’s not fair.”

With Shane’s help, Jimmy tugged off his T-shirt and tossed it aside. He reached to unbutton his jeans, but Shane pushed his hands away, making Jimmy hiss as he lowered the zipper. After a bit more fumbling, they were both naked except for their socks. Which was slightly absurd, but Jimmy was in no mood to complain. Not when Shane was kissing him and squeezing his ass with hands that, yes indeed, felt nicely rough and calloused. Jimmy knotted his fingers in Shane’s soft hair and tried not to embarrass himself.

“What do you like?” Shane rasped into his ear.

Because Shane continued to stroke and knead, Jimmy found answering difficult. “N-not picky.” He couldn’t decide whether to buck his hips forward in the hope of feeling Shane’s cock against his or to push back into Shane’s caresses.

“Can I fuck you?”

“God, yes.” Jimmy wasn’t the begging type, but he had the feeling Shane could get him pleading and promising with very little effort. The man was
good
with his hands. And with his mouth. Jimmy soaked up the contact the way a desert soaks up rain.

With a satisfied little growl, Shane pushed Jimmy onto his back, then lay on top of him. Nice, but even nicer was when Shane sucked and nibbled at Jimmy’s nipples until Jimmy writhed and whined. And just when Jimmy couldn’t take any more, when he was arching his hips trying to rub his cock against any part of Shane he could reach, Shane gave an evil chuckle and worked his way southward. He licked Jimmy’s belly and hips and, when Jimmy splayed his legs shamelessly, smoothed the insides of his thighs. Jimmy wasn’t used to this much attention. It made him dizzy.

“Sh-Shane,” he groaned.

Shane kissed the crease where Jimmy’s leg joined his torso. “I told you. It’s better if you wait.” And he resumed his torture, blowing on Jimmy’s glans without touching it, slowly stroking Jimmy’s balls. Jimmy wanted to hold Shane’s hair but was afraid he’d tug too hard, so instead he grabbed fistfuls of the duvet and tilted his head back, listening to the rasp of his own breaths.

When Shane lightly rubbed a finger the length of Jimmy’s cock and along the damp tip, Jimmy very nearly came. But then Shane took his finger away. Jimmy would have complained, except Shane traced the rim of Jimmy’s sensitive hole and—very slowly—slipped inside, using Jimmy’s precome to ease his way.

“Oh, God.”

“Does that hurt?” Shane asked.

“Not enough. More.”

“Wait.” Shane sounded like he was trying not to laugh. But then he wasn’t the one laid out, hard and wanting, while someone stroked his prostate with a long finger and mouthed teasingly at his pulsing shaft. Jimmy tried to wait, but he’d never been good at that, and when he had something as good as this, he wanted to grab it real quick before it went away.

Real quick
was not in Shane’s repertoire. He worked his finger in and not quite out and tickled the hairs on Jimmy’s thighs, and only after a century and a half had passed did he again touch Jimmy’s cock and then add a second finger inside, making Jimmy bite his lip and whimper.

“Are you ready?” asked Shane a thousand years later.

“Been ready since you walked in the door.”

Shane chuckled and licked Jimmy’s hip. But then he went still. “I’m, um, not very flexible….”

At this point, Jimmy would gladly have bent himself in half if that was what it took. Instead he shuddered at Shane’s touch. “Where’s the rubber?”

Shane had to get off the bed and fumble in his clothing, which gave Jimmy the chance to sit up. When Shane came close to the bed, Jimmy reached blindly for him—the room was very dark—and he was lucky to catch his hips. He drew Shane close, stroking tender skin with his thumbs.

But Shane took a step back. “I have scars.”

Jimmy knew that. He’d felt the ridges and divots and found them interesting. But he didn’t want to insist if Shane was antsy about it, so instead he said, “Okay. Give me the condom.”

Unwrapping the thing in the pitch black wasn’t easy, but it was a task Jimmy had performed before. “Come here,” he said and then was careful where he touched Shane. On the belly—scar-free and dusted in hairs. On the ass—smooth and muscular. And then on his cock, which jutted upright and was, by the feel of it, not overly long but nicely thick. And then it was Shane’s turn to hiss and moan as Jimmy played with him awhile, rubbing his length and lightly squeezing his balls. Shane rested one hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Are
you
ready?” Jimmy finally asked.

“Yes.”

Jimmy rolled the condom onto Shane as slowly as possible, enjoying his turn to tease. But really, he was torturing himself too, so as soon as he fully sheathed Shane’s cock in latex, Jimmy gently pushed him away, stood, and then bent over the edge of the mattress, presenting himself.

In a perfect world, the light would have been on, and Jimmy would have been on his back instead, with his ankles hooked over Shane’s shoulders. And he would have been able to watch Shane’s face as he hastily applied lube to Jimmy’s eager hole. He would have liked to see that auburn hair hanging down, those wiry muscles knotted with tension, those vivid blue eyes focused on him. But Jimmy’s world was not perfect. Fortunately, it was no hardship to feel the smooth cotton of the duvet cover against his cheek and Shane’s slick fingers stretching him. And when Shane finally pushed his cock against Jimmy and then—oh God—inside, Jimmy had no complaints at all.

“Tight,” Shane said. His voice was tight too.

“’S been a while.” Far too long, in fact, because he’d almost forgotten how goddamn
good
this felt, with Shane filling him, grunting softly with each plunge, and Shane’s big hands braced on Jimmy’s lower back. With some difficulty, Jimmy worked one of his own hands to his cock and tugged in rhythm with Shane’s thrusts. They had all night, didn’t they? But Shane moved quickly and so did Jimmy, and trying to slow down his climax was like battling a tsunami with a bucket. The wave crashed over him, through him, pulling Jimmy deeply under.

He was breathless and weak, his skin felt as if someone had taken sandpaper to it, and his head felt floaty and wide open. When he came to his senses, he realized that Shane had collapsed over his back and was sucking at the nape of his neck. “Salty,” he said, breathing hard.

After a short time, Shane recovered and stood. He groaned a little with the movement, and not from pleasure. Jimmy still felt boneless but managed to scramble fully onto the bed, grab Shane’s waist, and tug him forward. “Rest a bit,” Jimmy ordered.

Maybe Shane wasn’t good at taking orders, because first he shuffled around in the darkness, taking off the rubber and tossing it into a trash can near the desk. And even when he got on the bed, he didn’t just lie there. Instead he drew Jimmy close and kissed the last of the oxygen away.

When they broke apart, Jimmy sighed. “Were we noisy?”

“Maybe. A little. Why?”

“I’m not supposed to disturb the customers.”

“The room next door is vacant tonight and nobody’s pounding on the door. I think we’re okay.”

Jimmy liked the feel of Shane’s body against his, all hard planes and soft skin. But he was sticky from lube and come, and the hour was late. He patted Shane’s shoulder before getting out of bed and making his way to the sink. He rinsed his hands and used the washcloth to clean his groin and ass, and then he shivered at the cold.

“I have to work in the morning,” he said, wanting to give Shane an excuse to leave. “Can’t piss off Aunt Belinda.”

Shane was silent a moment before getting off the bed. “Yeah. I bet she’ll have more for your list in the morning.” Jimmy heard him shambling around, collecting his clothes, putting them on. They could have turned on the light, of course, but then they’d have to look at each other, and Shane would remember that Jimmy was no great conquest. His body was pale, too thin, unremarkable; his scars were small and uninteresting. The dark was better.

The sink was close to the door, and Shane found him before he left. He surprised Jimmy with another kiss—and even more shocking, Jimmy’s overworked cock thought a kiss was a dandy idea, twitching to show its approval. The sensation of Shane’s clothed body against his naked one, cotton and wool against bare skin—well, there was a kink Jimmy hadn’t realized he possessed. That and cowboys. It had been an enlightening day.

“You’ll still be here tomorrow, won’t you?” Shane asked.

“I guess so.”

“Good.” With a final palming of Jimmy’s ass, Shane made his way to the door. He stood there a moment, silhouetted in the light, his boots hanging from one hand. Jimmy couldn’t make out his expression. And then the door closed and Shane was gone.

J
IMMY
WOKE
up early and stretched, feeling the sweet ache from his romp with Shane. Now that he and Shane had gotten what they wanted from each other, his plan—as much of a plan as he ever had, anyway—was to gather his things and find a ride. He’d leave Tom’s letter on the bed or with Belinda. While she might be angry over providing a night’s lodging for less than a half-day’s work, her relief at his leaving would undoubtedly outweigh her anger.

But when Jimmy looked out the window, he saw that it was raining. Not a tolerable drizzle, and not a quick downpour with bright sky to the west. The fat raindrops would soak pant hems and work their way under collars, chilling travelers to the bone. He didn’t have any wet-weather gear and didn’t relish the thought of shivering by the side of the highway, looking too much like a drowned rat for anyone to stop.

So he didn’t pack up. He made his bed instead, then peeked into the hallway to see if anyone was near. Since the coast was clear, he quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed his toiletries, and headed for the shower.

His hair was still slightly damp when he walked to the lobby. Despite the early hour, Belinda sat behind the counter, looking not particularly pleased to see him. But at least she greeted him. “Good morning, James.”