Story Post: Lost and Found, part 5
The Kid stared for another long moment, then, very slowly, bent down.
Heyes’ heart stopped; he waited, and when the Kid’s mouth covered his, his eyes fell shut and he breathed the Kid’s scent through his nose, feeling it, feeling the exquisite, astonishing press of the Kid’s lips, soft against his.
Then it was gone. Oh, god. And Heyes breathed out, dizzy, eyes opening to see the Kid staring down at him, looking just as stunned as he felt, awaiting judgment. Awaiting doom, from the look of him.
Heyes swallowed because he needed to, then licked his lips, very much on purpose. “Well.” His voice came out low, rough, more revealing than his flippant words. “That wasn’t anything to write home about, but it’s a start.”
The Kid gulped. Blinked. “H-Heyes …”
Heyes got up - and the Kid drew back a little as if he still thought Heyes might slug him. Heyes moved close, sliding his hands around Curry’s wrists, just touching, feeling the Kid’s racing pulse under sensitive fingertips. Their cheeks brushed when Curry’s head came up, and Heyes sucked in a quick breath as his cock jumped.
They stood for a moment in silence, bodies almost touching, breathing in each other’s scent and nearness like brandy. Heyes was as certain the Kid had a hard-on as he was that he was hard as a rock.
“It feels good bein’ close to you like this,” he said across the Kid’s ear, feeling him breathe in, feeling the faint tremors from deep in his body. He smelled clean and male, with a hint of spice - cinnamony, Heyes had often thought.
“You-you-” The Kid gulped audibly. “You never … said … you never did anything like this …” He drew back, scared, hopeful, holding Heyes’ gaze, begging for him to make sense of this.
Heyes smiled a little. “I’ve never gone to Paris or been a millionaire, either, but that don’t mean I wouldn’t, if I got the chance.”
The Kid continued to stare at him in wonder.
Heyes left off joking. “Kid, you know you’re the most important person in the whole world to me.”
The Kid’s eyes shone, returning the compliment without words. A tiny smile touched his mouth - then faltered as the Kid whispered, “But … isn’t it … wrong?”
Heyes shrugged. “ ’cording to who?” He smiled, raising his own hands - shaking, after everything he’d done, this made them shake! - to cup the Kid’s face and brush their mouths together, enjoying the faint rasp of the Kid’s light stubble, the gasp of indrawn air.
“Doesn’t feel wrong,” he said.
The Kid made a sound, low, and grabbed Heyes, covering his mouth, lips and tongue questing, needy and hot, riding the edge of roughness, igniting Heyes’ body and flaming his thoughts to ash in his head.
He didn’t even know they’d moved until he bounced onto the bed, the Kid over him, panting, holding him by the shoulders, their dicks hard and pulsing against each other - and the Kid was holding his eyes, tight as a noose.
“I was scared I wouldn’t see you again,” he whispered, and Heyes’ insides shriveled, responding to the fear even before his head figured out what Curry was saying, what he’d been saying the whole time, ever since he’d fallen in with Welles and his crew - that this wasn’t about sex.
“The whole time,” Curry went on, “I was plannin’ to get away, and I tried not to think about you, tried not to think ‘what if I don’t make it,’ but I knew there was a chance, there was so many of ’em, and all I could think of -”
“Kid, don’t.” Heyes pulled him close. “Don’t. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, and neither are you.”
Curry slid his arms around Heyes and hugged, hard enough to hurt, breathing into his neck while Heyes wondered was this all he needed, a hug and some reassurance, and it got tangled up in that whole sex thing because of Welles? He huffed a soft laugh into the Kid’s curls, realizing, in spite of his aching dick, that he didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn if it was fucking, or a hug, or a good hot meal - if that’s what it took to make the Kid stop beating himself up, that’s what he’d do.
He was trying to sort out whether he was just disappointed, or maybe even a little relieved, when the Kid braced up on his hands again, gazing down at Heyes, half gold-lit by the fire, half shadowed.
Heyes swallowed at the look on the Kid’s face, and his instincts said, flat out, it’s gonna happen. The bare fact of it thrilled through his body and he shivered.
“If you’re doin’ this just to make me feel better …” Curry began, his tone warm, soft, but honest. Heyes had to smile. He lifted his hips, pressing their hard dicks together.
“Feel that?”
The Kid blushed and Heyes almost laughed.
“Even I’m not that good a liar.” Heyes held his eyes, knowing the Kid could read him. “And before you start thinkin’ that way, you know either one of us could go get sex somewhere else, right now, if we wanted.”
Curry’s expression confessed that that explanation had crossed his mind.
“You can if you want to. I won’t be mad or anything.” Heyes added softly, “But I don’t want to.”
Curry bent his head, brushing his face against Heyes’ temple, slow, luxuriating, for all the world like a big affectionate cat. But when he drew back, though he couldn’t have missed Heyes’ smile, he said, “It ain’t … normal.”
“A lot of what we do ain’t normal. For other folks, at least. But it’s worked for us.”
Curry stared at him, stared into him, and Heyes felt the weight of his trust and affection as much as the weight of his body. When Curry began to bend, slowly, Heyes smiled and let his eyes fall shut, waiting. For the gentle press of lips, the touch of a tongue that made his own lips open in invitation, the hot sexy curl of that tongue deep inside his mouth. He laid hold of the Kid’s shoulders, stroking along his arms, pulling him even closer, shivering when the Kid nuzzled his cheek and moved to suck at his throat.
The Kid whispered across his ear. “You scared?” Then drew back to look at him.
Heyes had to smile. “Yeah, a little.” He let his fingers slide through Curry’s thick tickling curls.
Sober, the Kid said, “You wanna stop?”
Heyes shook his head automatically. “No. You?”
“No.” His voice was low, deadly serious, and he kissed Heyes again, slow and intent - as if it would be the last time ever and he wanted to make the most of it. Heyes’ heart thrilled - no one who had ever kissed him before had meant it this much. He twined both hands around the Kid’s head and did his best to say the same thing back - until they broke apart for air and the Kid gasped, “Heyes …” and Heyes knew he’d gotten the message.
Suddenly he chuckled into Heyes’ neck. “I don’t even …” He pulled back, smiled at Heyes’ smile.
“I don’t even know how to do this,” he finished, but his fingers were tickling across Heyes' neck, down, over his collarbone, exploring the skin of his chest, his nipples, trailing through the dusting of hair there that guided him lower.
“You seem to be doin’ okay,” Heyes murmured, though he wanted to laugh - they both felt awkward and stupid, but they both felt it, and neither one of them seemed to want to stop trying.
“I guess it’s no different from makin’ love to - to anyone else,” the Kid said, hesitant - clearly not sure that was right.
Heyes cocked his head. “I don’t know. I think you and me got a lot more goin’ on than me and any woman I’ve been with.”
Gravely, Curry took that in, nodded, and let his hand continue the slow caress over Heyes’ body. “That must be why it feels different.”
Heyes chuckled. “That’s one reason.” He laid his own hand over the Kid’s, a kind of embrace, tactile encouragement.
The Kid grinned and his hand glided down, fingers trailing across the fabric of Heyes’ sleep drawers, then curving warm and firm around his cock. Heyes gasped, startled by the feel of it, a strong male hand - the Kid, the Kid’s perfect hands - on him, rubbing him through the thin cloth of the drawers.
“Oh …” He released that sharp and startled bit of air. “Yeah. That’s another. Oh …”
The Kid kept stroking, eager but unsure, Heyes could tell, but his touch felt like lightning; if this is how it feels now, if he ever gets confident, it’ll be the death of me.
He thought about saying they should maybe get naked - then, with the instinct that had served him for years, knew that more words would only get in the way at this point, distancing them, making them awkward. He sat up, facing the Kid to dispel any fears he’d changed his mind. The Kid’s eyes were fixed on him as he bent to slide off the loose linen sleep drawers, and when he straightened up the Kid was flushed; he breathed out audibly, fear and wonder and hunger, and when Heyes put his fingers on the waist of the Kid’s drawers, he lifted his hips readily to let his partner tug them off.
Heyes took a long look at the Kid, breathing hard, his dick hard and curved upward against curly brown hair. He laid his hands on the Kid’s muscular thighs and watched his cock jump.
Forcing in a breath, he said softly, “Tell me if … if I’m doin’ something you don’t like.” He met the Kid’s stunned stare - he looked drunk. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”
“Heyes …” Curry swallowed; nervous, turned on, trusting, but needing something. “How … how come?”
Heyes held the Kid’s eyes, let his hands stroke up and down, tickling through the hair, shaping the hard curves of muscle. What was the Kid really asking - did he even know? How come they were doing this, how come they loved each other, how could this possibly be a good idea?
He thought of a hundred things he could say, all true, but all just noises, right now. “Because I know you.” He cupped the Kid’s hip, thumb passing over an old knife wound, caressing the rough, raised line of flesh, aware the Kid was staring at him mesmerized as he bent to taste the warm flesh of his stomach. “I know all your scars,” he murmured. “And you know mine.” He felt the skin quiver under his lips and tongue, then trailed his fingers through the brown curls between the Kid’s thighs and coiling them around his dick - it pulsed in his hand and the Kid made a strangled, hungry noise, body arcing upward, toward Heyes.
Heyes went on in the same low voice, “No woman’s ever gonna get that close.” Not to me, at least, he thought, and realized he was more exposed here than he’d believed.
“Heyes …” It was a plea; he raised his head, saw the naked emotion on the Kid’s face, saw his eyes begging for something he couldn’t articulate - begging Heyes not to bare him further with words, even as the Kid grabbed his arms and pulled them closer, calloused fingers tight on his arms.
“It’s okay, Kid,” he murmured. “Just let me …” He closed his hand around the Kid’s erection and his whole body jumped again. “Just let me.” Heyes stroked, thinking of what he’d like and looking at the Kid’s face, tight with pleasure and anticipation, jaw clenched around the small sounds that fought to escape. Heyes worked the Kid’s cock harder - it was bigger than his, he thought, and that made him smile, for some reason - and the Kid’s hands fell away from his biceps and dropped to the bed, fingers clutching, twisting the blanket - then his right hand sought and found Heyes’ left and seized it, fingers knotting and squeezing in spasms.
“He-Heyes …” His name came like breathing from the Kid’s lips as his hips began to writhe. “Oh … oh …” And he was coming, groaning and shuddering and spouting hot over Heyes’ hand and his own stomach, and Heyes felt like laughing in simple pleasure at the sight and feel and sound of it. He worked the Kid until he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, his dick softening in Heyes’ hand, then let him go and watched him lie there gasping for breath. He’d never let go of Heyes’ left hand - he still hadn’t, though the tight grip had gone limp.
Finally the Kid muttered, “Oh … god.”
Heyes chuckled.
Curry drew in a long, deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. Then he sat up, looked at Heyes, half smiling, rumpled, flushed, wildly sexy. “Can I …” He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Heyes’ thigh and squeezed. “I want to do that to you. I want to see you … like that.”
And Heyes felt his cock, already hard, surge. He grinned. “I won’t stop you.” It wouldn’t take much - seeing the Kid like that was so incredible it was a wonder he hadn’t already come.
Smiling, Curry scooted closer and wrapped one big hand around him and Heyes hissed, body jerking.
Instantly the hand eased up. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Don’t stop.” Heyes grabbed the Kid’s wrist, pulling, encouraging. “Damn, Kid, don’t stop.” He let his head flop back as Curry, reassured, squeezed and stroked, hard, harder than he would do himself, fantastic. The Kid slid his thumb over the glans, rough and quick, and Heyes shuddered. “Oh god, yeah. Like that … oh, Kid … yeah …” His whole body pulsed, desperate, seconds from release. “C’mere, c’mere-” The Kid bent over him and he pulled him down into a kiss, as urgent as his need to come. Curry leaned into the kiss, his tongue filling Heyes’ mouth, his body pressing Heyes down into the bed as his hand worked him ruthlessly. Abruptly Heyes stiffened, his startled cry absorbed into the Kid’s mouth as he came, oh god, hard, hard, almost painful, his body shuddering against the Kid’s, and the Kid pulled him in tight and held him until he was drained and lax and panting for air.
“Oh … god …” He breathed, then laughed a little that he was echoing the Kid. He felt the Kid’s soft answering laugh against him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling them together from head to toe, inextricable.
~*~*~
Heyes woke to a silent, sunny morning and a penciled note on the Kid’s empty bed. Amongst half a dozen scribbled-out words he deciphered: Got to think. I’ll be back.
He stared at the note for a while, body and brain still waking up, swallowing against the sinking feeling in his stomach and hoping he wasn’t going to be sick.
He was well aware of what the Kid was feeling. There was no getting around it with words, either. He was either going to come back and deal with this change, or he was going to run away for good.
Heyes dressed, packed up his bags and checked out of the hotel. Lom was expecting them in Jackson in three days. Heyes knew the Kid hadn’t forgotten that appointment - they’d bought the train tickets yesterday on arriving in Gowman - but what he didn’t know was if he should wait here, or go on without his partner.
His instinct, of course, was to go after him. Something deeper than instinct held him back. If this had been any other situation, any other problem or misunderstanding, he’d go, fully prepared to talk the Kid into seeing his side of things, to use words and cunning to beat him into acquiescence. This was one time when his gut said that was the wrong thing to do. To go after the Kid, to coerce, to seduce … to do anything except let him make his own decision, free of pressure, was the wrong thing to do. Even though he longed to.
Especially because of that, he reminded himself. What you want ain’t the point any more. You gotta let him decide on his own what he wants; otherwise it’ll never work. If you don’t trust him on this, he’ll know it, and he’ll never trust you again.
So, when the train pulled out at 11 a.m., Heyes was on it, his empty stomach gurgling at him, his full head spinning with fears and thoughts and plans and hopes.
To part 6