Slipping Into Darkness... Ch. 3
Title: Slipping Into Darkness... Ch. 3
Description: Canon AU beginning in 1983. Jack doesn't die but has other adventures.
Warnings: MO!Jack and explicit non-J/E pairing. In this chapter, so please don't read if you hate that. (But otherwise please do read, as I love comments!)
Comments: Much appreciated. Bear in mind I am a thin-skinned novice though.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, and certainly not making any money. OCs are mine.
Rating: NC-17. I'm wondering how explicit and/or kinky to make this, so let me know what you think.
For
gnashsang , who provided much assistance. Hope you like it... ;-)
It took Jack the better part of ten hours to reach the house that Joseph shared with his wife in pretty Frederick, Colorado. They were friendly, level-headed people, and invited him to stay in the guest room in their sprawling split-level ranch house for as long as he liked.
Jack stayed with them for several nights while he learned about the business from Joseph, but a week or so was all he could take of that, so he spent a couple days driving around to see where he might like to land next and settled on the smallish town of Castle Rock in Douglas County. It put him about half an hour's drive from a McAllister Farm Equipment office on the outskirts of Aurora. Jack already knew something of Denver from his many driving trips but had no desire to live there. This way, he could avail himself of what the city had to offer and then get away from it.
With some help from Jeannie McAllister, he found a two-bedroom bedroom cottage behind a house which he rented from a German-born lady named Mrs. Douglas. The lady was in her seventies but still tall, red-haired and vigorous, and her late husband had left her several income properties around town which she managed by bicycle. She told Jack about being given beer to drink as a child in Bremen during the war, before she immigrated to this country and met her husband. “My husband could not believe it. But you know, the yeast in beer is nutritious. Or so they thought.” Mr. Douglas had been a staunch Mormon, and was scandalized by this story.
The little house wasn't much, and Jack never brought anyone over. It came furnished with a few pieces of wooden furniture, old-fashioned but solid, including a twin bed which had once belonged to Mrs. Douglas' son, now an adult and living in Idaho with his family. It was a far cry from how he'd lived in Childress, what with Lureen always wanting a new something for the house and him eyeballing his next new truck, but at least money wasn't a problem: his salary was sufficient if not princely, and he was renting month-to-month (Jack figured he'd give it a year before he decided what to do next). Anyway, he had a little money put aside from all those years when he'd thought he'd get Ennis to try his idea of ranching up, and Lureen wasn’t coming after him for child support. It was like being back in his rodeo days, only now small but significant purchases like food, smokes, gas and liquor weren't a problem.
Jack knew he was probably mired in some kind of deep depression, and that his present long silences -- he spent much of his time by himself now -- connected him with his lonely childhood in a way that all those years in Childress and on the circuit had sought to erase. All that energy expended in trying to get away, and yet here he was again, only with most of the drive to get up off his pockets burned away. Though he'd cut back on his drinking, he felt hobbled by exhaustion.
There was no doubt in his mind that, had he stayed in Childress, he'd be dead by now, and in spite of his feelings of being bereft, knowing he'd made it this far could give him a twinge of satisfaction. He even felt an almost-contentment at times, as he immersed himself in mundane tasks like trying to figure out how to work the damned office fax machine and getting to the next stopping point on one of his trips. When the sadness over Ennis came, as it inevitably did, he was learning to just let it wash right over him and sit quietly with the pain until it receded. Seemed like it was a force of nature anyway, and resisting it made no more sense than fighting the weather. The strategy worked at least as well as anything he'd tried before.
Jack avoided Route 287 whenever he could, but more than once pulled over to study whatever on-ramp was nearby. He'd calculate just how long it would take him to get to Riverton and Ennis if he jumped on, but knew he'd never do it -- the memory of Ennis' rejection after the divorce still burned a hole of shame right through him, felt like it'd happened just last week if he let himself think about it long enough. So he tried not to, just as he tried to let a good cup of coffee from his latest gas station fill-up be a small window on happiness.
He didn't enjoy much, but one of the better things was sitting out on the little patio between his house and the house in front of it, smoking a cigarette (okay with Mrs. Douglas only if done outside), drinking a beer or some whiskey and looking up at the stars. Castle Rock's size reminded him of Childress, which was somehow comforting; it had a castle-like rock formation (hence the name) but otherwise just put him in sight of the mountains, which suited him fine for now. Christ, I'm turnin' into Ennis, he'd think as he looked up at the nighttime sky, inevitably thinking that they were the same stars they'd watched up on Brokeback, and how isolated he'd become. Then he'd remember that he'd have to be a lot further out in to the country, maybe in a trailer or some falling-down ranch house, and probably without indoor plumbing too.
Jack's driving trips took him out of the area pretty regularly, most often to Kansas, where farm foreclosures were on the rise. He went as far up north as Nebraska, and as far south as New Mexico. In September, he swung through Childress and spent a long weekend with Bobby while Lureen went on a trip with her mother. A month later, he managed one night's stopover in Lightning Flat, not much help to his father, as was duly noted, but grateful for the visit with his mother. That same trip, he'd found himself in the shadow of the Crazy Mountains up in Montana and, suddenly wracked with tears, had to pull over on the side of the road. There were times when his back or his legs just ached -- old rodeo injuries coming back to haunt him -- and he'd try to take a week or so off from the driving and stick to paperwork until he felt better. At least the unease of working for that bastard LD wasn't there, as Joseph seemed to like him just fine.
On the Ennis front, there was no news. In mid-August, Lureen had forwarded a postcard from him which said that November 7 still looked like the earliest. Jack mulled that over for more than a week before writing back that he'd moved to Colorado to take a job. He gave his work and home addresses and briefly indicated that the home address wasn't permanent. Ennis' response to that was just, silence.
Jack didn’t know what to think about November, figured he'd make up his mind when the time came. Then early in the fall, Joseph let it be known that he'd need him in Kansas come early November -- so Jack wrote Ennis again, explaining that he couldn't make the 7th because of work. First time ever in sixteen years! It took a few weeks, but Jack finally got a postcard back suggesting the middle of January -- that was earliest Ennis would be able to get time off from winter feeding.
Not long after that card came, Jack studied his face in the bathroom mirror after a long night out and abruptly shaved off his moustache. The man looking back at him was older than when he'd grown it, that was for sure, and it was a little like spotting someone he hadn't seen around in awhile. Upside of depression, at least he'd dropped his spare tire. He’d abandoned some of his Texas finery too - it looked out of place in the blue-collar places he'd been frequenting - for ruggeder clothing, and started talking less like a Texan and more like a Westerner. Guys in the bar liked him well enough when he wanted them to, which was about all that mattered. Jack didn't know whether to hate himself for it or not, but he wrote Ennis back later that week saying he'd try for mid-January.
He'd become drinking buddies with a small group of working guys, not real queer acting but gay enough to hang around at a nondescript two-room place (bar in front, two pool tables in back) named Edie's after some long-ago owner's wife or mother or daughter, feeling like there was safety in numbers. It was understood they were all queer -- a few had left wives or families in recent years. None of them wanted to talk about it, but they fucked each other as needed, brought in the occasional new guy to cautiously grow their numbers, and kept an eye out for one another in case any queer-bashing assholes came in. (That had happened a couple of months back, though the pair that had come in looking for trouble ended up leaving plenty sorry.)
Jack had found the place several years back and had been coming there ever since, though not with such regularity, and long-timers like Tom Barber could even recall back when Jack had a semi-regular thing going with a local lineman named Lyle. Jack had liked his lean muscles and spent a few nights in Lyle's one-bedroom apartment, but there hadn't been all that much to talk about outside of the sex, and he hadn't been particularly sorry when word got back to him that the phone company had moved Lyle out to Nevada.
One November evening, Jack came home tired after a day spent driving all over but decided he'd rather head to the bar and shoot some pool than fall directly into bed. He'd overheard some of the guys going on about a buddy of theirs who might show up and had just ordered another beer and a shot when he felt eyes on him and looked over to find himself being checked out by a younger guy, tallish, with a good build , fair hair and darker eyebrows. The guy was too good-looking, and his grin too much like a tractor beam, not to notice right away, that was for sure, but both of them got pulled into other conversations. When Tom finally introduced them, Jack learned that this was Tyler, the anticipated guy. Jack knew he’d seen him somewhere, though he doubted they’d fucked - a live wire like this he’d be sure to remember.
“So you got the hell outta Childress after all,” Tyler remarked as he took another sip of his beer, and Jack realized it was the guy from the bar on that sticky hot desolate day in Childress, the day his life had begun again after he'd realized death was right there. His Texas life had chewed him up and spit him right out, but into what? This limbo, with Ennis further away than ever…
The good-looking guy was waiting for his response, and he stuck out his hand. “Jack Twist.”
“Yeah, I know who you are.”
“Oh really? My reputation precede me?”
“Nope, my SOB of a step-dad had a ranch outside a Childress. Charles Pfeiffer, you must know that name. I spent a summer there while I was in high school and he dragged us along so he could do some business with Newsome Farm Machinery.”
It didn’t take them long to establish that Tyler’s step-dad Charlie had been a good friend of LD’s. Jack remembered him as a good ol' boy and, though he had no memory of Tyler, recalled that Charlie had spent part of the summer of ‘73 haggling with LD over a new combine set to deliver that fall. They were longtime buddies, what with years of poker nights, dance hall dinners and drinks at the Childress country club behind them. Charlie had left this world a couple of years before LD even, and Jack told Tyler he was sorry. “I’m not,” Tyler said. “That bastard. I’m glad my mom left him. She’s remarried, lives out in California now.” Jack dimly recalled Lureen and Fayette’s rather scandalized story of this breakup: the lady had abruptly moved back up north to her family in Colorado.
“So, have we already met?” Jack asked. Heat was pouring off the younger man’s body, aiming directly for him, but he tried to ignore it. Jack wouldn't have thought it was possible, but Tyler's grin widened.
“Bet you don’t remember meeting me. I was 17 at the time, bored outta my mind and antsy as hell, and Charlie was talking to your father-in-law about a new combine. Kept dragging us into the showroom with him while they were working it out.”
Jack thought back briefly to the summer of ’73: how brilliantly in love with Ennis he’d been, how flushed with excitement to meet up with him in the Shirlies for their August trip. They'd had a good time, too. Pretty much how he’d lived his life then, in three-to-six month intervals of longing, lust, triumph and then desperation, until the realization brought on by the divorce had shattered him so abruptly in the fall of ‘75. Jack could recall Charlie stopping by the dealership with a couple of fair-haired teenage boys who wanted to cut up and sneak cigarettes in the lot out back, and Charlie giving them hell.
“Yeah, that was me,” Tyler sighed, with mock drama. Something in his expression implied no shortage of adventures since then. “Can’t believe you remember. I quit smoking though.”
Another friend came up after that and Tyler was pulled away, though Jack caught him looking his way more than once. Flattering, but what the fuck? He seemed to know lotsa guys there, no shortage of admirers.
Another trip took Jack to Kansas for the better part of a week. He made it back on a Friday after staring at the road for twelve hours straight, almost went home because his back was hurting, but took some more pain pills and the turnoff for the bar, and ended up out at Tom's place with the rest of them.
If the guys at Edie's formed a sort of informal, barely-acknowledged family, Tom Barber was their patriarch. He was in his fifties, burly, bearded and pleasantly fatherly -- he had his fans. Some kind of group often headed to his place after the bar closed, or on the occasional long weekend when Tom felt like hosting. He lived on the remnants of an old family ranch outside of a little place called Larkspur, with neighbors who weren't close enough to hear or see anything, and who'd offered unconditional sympathy ever since his wife ran off with another man while their kids were still in school.
The house had a basement rec room with a pool table, a bar and some sparsely furnished spare bedrooms (Tom's kids were long grown), and the men were known to let their hair down in ways that wouldn't happen in town. Unknowns weren't invited, so it was as safe as it got: Tom even had four good-sized dogs who'd bark their heads off at anyone new, though they were cheerful tail-waggers after their owner gave the okay. Tom had a couple of gentle older horses too, and had even offered to let Jack board his horses in his barn. Jack thought about how much Bobby loved taking care of them back in Childress and said no thank you, though he'd stop by to help out and take one of Tom's mares out for a ride whenever he was in the vicinity. Aside from pain pills and lying flat, it was about the only thing that made his back feel better when it was aching.
Jack was playing pool downstairs when Tyler sauntered, yes sauntered, in. Seemed to have a few drinks in him too, which made him even friendlier.
"I swear, if it ain't Jack fuckin' Twist... we meet again."
They shook hands and ended up playing a few games, were pretty evenly matched because Jack got lucky a few times -- Tyler was something of a shark, he could tell. "Grew up with a pool table," Tyler finally admitted. He bumped into Jack a few times coming around the table, and eyeballed him too, but Jack wasn't sure what he intended to do about that... wouldn't be averse to fucking someone tonight, and although younger men had never really been his thing, this one was hard to resist. Well, Tyler had to be coming up on thirty, which meant he wasn't so young...
"Had the hots for you when I was a teenager, you know, though I know you never looked at me twice," Tyler sighed at one point after sidling up next to him for a shot. Jack considered himself difficult to surprise in such situations but couldn't help but stare a bit at that. It got a satisfied smirk out of Tyler but made Jack think back on those days: he'd been so in love with Ennis that he never gave any guy a second look, least of all a teenager. Jack had heard it through the grapevine that Tyler had run off and spent some time on the West Coast, in San Francisco and Los Angeles both, and even that he'd worked as a hustler. None of the men had any judgments about that; it just seemed to add to Tyler's allure. Watching him play, Jack could see how it might be true -- nice ass under those Wranglers. Tyler's lanky build reminded him a bit of a younger Ennis, truth to tell, though not so much his face: not so worried looking, and Tyler was more expressive. He sure seemed to know how to bend over the table, well aware of what he was doing with his body, his longish shock of blonde hair, bright greenish eyes and bold grin...
Jack was flattered in a bemused way by the play for his attention, not disinterested, yet not in any hurry either. Felt like something inside him had been sleeping and was wary of being rousted, for all that he hadn't had any qualms about satisfying urges when they'd come up since his move, and for a long time before that. He let someone else take over the table, wandered outside to smoke and listened to a couple of guys bitch about the price of gasoline and the economy before considering upcoming hunting trips as they sat by the fire pit. Time was he'd have weighed in with smart comments if nothing else, but the brooding, watchful silences that had settled over him these last few months had stuck. Sometimes I miss you so much... Didn't seem to be much else to say after that, did there. At least the fire was warm.
It was at the end of a long night, when Jack had turned down an offer to fuck Brian but not an offer to watch Brian with Martin, that he headed into the kitchen to grab another beer from the six packs he'd stowed in the fridge. He figured he'd take a hot shower and head home for a nice long sleep, if he didn't get caught up in another game of pool first. Most of the guys were asleep or otherwise engaged though a few were ready to watch the sunrise. Jack was headed down the hall for the shower when Tyler suddenly bounded up the stairs from the basement. “Okay if I join you?” he asked matter-of-factly. He flashed a quick grin, but it was something in his eyes and the sudden lurch in Jack's crotch that made Jack say yes.
Tyler followed him into the bathroom, where Tom had replaced the old tub with a tiled shower, and took off his shirt and dropped his jeans without preamble. Damn, he looked even finer without them, Jack had to admit: nice lean muscles, the kind he'd lusted after on the rodeo circuit, not to mention up on the mountain all those years ago. Tyler cranked up the hot water and got in first. "Too hot for you?," he asked. Jack said it wasn't. They passed the soap back and forth with minimal words, but Tyler kept moving closer and soon Jack was between him and the tiles. They were almost chest to chest, with Tyler taking a long look down their bodies. Jack noticed that Tyler was maybe an inch taller, his chest smooth and almost hairless in comparison to the jagged scars on his own body, and the dark fur which now covered much of his chest before trailing off over his stomach and then growing heavier again at his groin and on his legs.
Tyler hadn’t been shy before and he was less shy now. He pushed the shower head over so hot water was running down part of Jack's back and leaned in so their chests finally touched, but barely. Jack sighed at that but flinched when Tyler touched his jaw as if to kiss him; it had been a long time since he'd done that with a new guy with any enthusiasm, and he wasn't ready for it now. He'd gotten used to turning his partners around and bending them over, or someone being on their knees in short order...
Tyler didn't seem to mind, just stopped that and let his fingers trail down Jack's chest. The hot water felt fine, and Jack had to admit there wasn’t anything wrong with the smell of him, or the sheen of his lightly tanned skin, or the heat coming off his body. Tyler's eyes and lips fluttered in a smile and the next thing Jack knew, he'd shifted down and over and had one hand on Jack's nipple and his mouth near the other. Tyler looked right at him and then latched on, and Jack felt the shock of it and looked away, but not for long. Tyler's free hand stroked Jack's chest and stomach and started south, and he pulled off just enough to murmur something -- Jack couldn't really follow, but it had the general sound of asking permission to proceed. Fuckin' A yes, Jack suddenly thought. The jolt had gone directly to his cock, and he knew the desire for more must be written plainly on his face. He was suddenly so hard it hurt , and just like a slow-motion but irreversible fall from a bull, Tyler slid the rest of the way to his knees, grabbed the base of Jack's hard-on and gradually took the head and more into his mouth, meeting Jack's eyes the whole time.
Foremost in Jack's mind was the thought that he hadn’t known how much he’d needed to get blown. It was like getting a good lungful of air after nearly suffocating, and he shifted slightly on his feet and didn't notice his tongue finding the corner of his mouth, though Tyler did. It occurred to him that the sight of his dick disappearing into this guy's mouth was just what he needed right now, and he knew he'd be going off like a bottle rocket in no time. Tyler switched off using his mouth and his hand and even his other thumb under Jack's testicles with backing off to make it last, until Jack made a noise to indicate that wasn't suiting him anymore. He shot intensely after just a few minutes of the sucking and warmth and Tyler's firm grip and bold, level gaze, and then sank partway against the warm tile under the beautifully hot rushing water. Tyler swallowed some of his load, let the rest wash away, and gently propped him up when Jack's legs got rubbery.
“Goddamn,” was all Jack could manage as he stared up wide-eyed into the light fixture overhead. He'd rocketed out of his body without expecting it, and now it felt like he was being poured back in the consistency of molasses. He allowed himself to rest against Tyler for half a minute and lamely felt for his hard-on. “Now you?” Jack managed when Tyler made an approving noise but didn't lurch in his hand.
“You want it?” Tyler murmured. Jack didn't answer immediately; getting Tyler off would be the polite thing to do for sure, but exhaustion was closing in on him and he wasn't sure how much he cared just now, quite frankly. “I don’t mind waiting,” Tyler practically purred in his ear when Jack said nothing. What the hell? Tyler stepped out of the shower, grabbed them both a couple of towels, and was dressed and ready while Jack was still fumbling with his clothes. “Was good,” Tyler breathed into his neck during a short embrace. Felt a little to Jack like being hugged like the family dog. Then Tyler was off down the hall.
Jack headed for the kitchen, where he found Tom starting some food for whomever wanted it. “Fuckin’ Tyler got you in the shower didn’t he?” his host inquired cheerfully. Jack wondered how Tom knew, but then, if you wanted to keep something a secret, you didn’t carry on at Tom's place. “He’s pulled some crazy stunts but he’s a good guy. I’ve known him for years, even knew his grandpa too, way back when. His family's raised horses out here for generations. Congratulations, I think he likes you…”
Tyler had headed out on a grocery store run but would be back in a little while. Jack didn’t wait around; he drove back to his little place, pulled down the shades, and got some much-needed sleep. Wrang it out a couple of times too, thinking about that shower. Goodlookin' boy had gotten him pretty good with that nice mouth a his, he had to admit...
tbc
Description: Canon AU beginning in 1983. Jack doesn't die but has other adventures.
Warnings: MO!Jack and explicit non-J/E pairing. In this chapter, so please don't read if you hate that. (But otherwise please do read, as I love comments!)
Comments: Much appreciated. Bear in mind I am a thin-skinned novice though.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, and certainly not making any money. OCs are mine.
Rating: NC-17. I'm wondering how explicit and/or kinky to make this, so let me know what you think.
For
gnashsang , who provided much assistance. Hope you like it... ;-)
It took Jack the better part of ten hours to reach the house that Joseph shared with his wife in pretty Frederick, Colorado. They were friendly, level-headed people, and invited him to stay in the guest room in their sprawling split-level ranch house for as long as he liked.
Jack stayed with them for several nights while he learned about the business from Joseph, but a week or so was all he could take of that, so he spent a couple days driving around to see where he might like to land next and settled on the smallish town of Castle Rock in Douglas County. It put him about half an hour's drive from a McAllister Farm Equipment office on the outskirts of Aurora. Jack already knew something of Denver from his many driving trips but had no desire to live there. This way, he could avail himself of what the city had to offer and then get away from it.
With some help from Jeannie McAllister, he found a two-bedroom bedroom cottage behind a house which he rented from a German-born lady named Mrs. Douglas. The lady was in her seventies but still tall, red-haired and vigorous, and her late husband had left her several income properties around town which she managed by bicycle. She told Jack about being given beer to drink as a child in Bremen during the war, before she immigrated to this country and met her husband. “My husband could not believe it. But you know, the yeast in beer is nutritious. Or so they thought.” Mr. Douglas had been a staunch Mormon, and was scandalized by this story.
The little house wasn't much, and Jack never brought anyone over. It came furnished with a few pieces of wooden furniture, old-fashioned but solid, including a twin bed which had once belonged to Mrs. Douglas' son, now an adult and living in Idaho with his family. It was a far cry from how he'd lived in Childress, what with Lureen always wanting a new something for the house and him eyeballing his next new truck, but at least money wasn't a problem: his salary was sufficient if not princely, and he was renting month-to-month (Jack figured he'd give it a year before he decided what to do next). Anyway, he had a little money put aside from all those years when he'd thought he'd get Ennis to try his idea of ranching up, and Lureen wasn’t coming after him for child support. It was like being back in his rodeo days, only now small but significant purchases like food, smokes, gas and liquor weren't a problem.
Jack knew he was probably mired in some kind of deep depression, and that his present long silences -- he spent much of his time by himself now -- connected him with his lonely childhood in a way that all those years in Childress and on the circuit had sought to erase. All that energy expended in trying to get away, and yet here he was again, only with most of the drive to get up off his pockets burned away. Though he'd cut back on his drinking, he felt hobbled by exhaustion.
There was no doubt in his mind that, had he stayed in Childress, he'd be dead by now, and in spite of his feelings of being bereft, knowing he'd made it this far could give him a twinge of satisfaction. He even felt an almost-contentment at times, as he immersed himself in mundane tasks like trying to figure out how to work the damned office fax machine and getting to the next stopping point on one of his trips. When the sadness over Ennis came, as it inevitably did, he was learning to just let it wash right over him and sit quietly with the pain until it receded. Seemed like it was a force of nature anyway, and resisting it made no more sense than fighting the weather. The strategy worked at least as well as anything he'd tried before.
Jack avoided Route 287 whenever he could, but more than once pulled over to study whatever on-ramp was nearby. He'd calculate just how long it would take him to get to Riverton and Ennis if he jumped on, but knew he'd never do it -- the memory of Ennis' rejection after the divorce still burned a hole of shame right through him, felt like it'd happened just last week if he let himself think about it long enough. So he tried not to, just as he tried to let a good cup of coffee from his latest gas station fill-up be a small window on happiness.
He didn't enjoy much, but one of the better things was sitting out on the little patio between his house and the house in front of it, smoking a cigarette (okay with Mrs. Douglas only if done outside), drinking a beer or some whiskey and looking up at the stars. Castle Rock's size reminded him of Childress, which was somehow comforting; it had a castle-like rock formation (hence the name) but otherwise just put him in sight of the mountains, which suited him fine for now. Christ, I'm turnin' into Ennis, he'd think as he looked up at the nighttime sky, inevitably thinking that they were the same stars they'd watched up on Brokeback, and how isolated he'd become. Then he'd remember that he'd have to be a lot further out in to the country, maybe in a trailer or some falling-down ranch house, and probably without indoor plumbing too.
Jack's driving trips took him out of the area pretty regularly, most often to Kansas, where farm foreclosures were on the rise. He went as far up north as Nebraska, and as far south as New Mexico. In September, he swung through Childress and spent a long weekend with Bobby while Lureen went on a trip with her mother. A month later, he managed one night's stopover in Lightning Flat, not much help to his father, as was duly noted, but grateful for the visit with his mother. That same trip, he'd found himself in the shadow of the Crazy Mountains up in Montana and, suddenly wracked with tears, had to pull over on the side of the road. There were times when his back or his legs just ached -- old rodeo injuries coming back to haunt him -- and he'd try to take a week or so off from the driving and stick to paperwork until he felt better. At least the unease of working for that bastard LD wasn't there, as Joseph seemed to like him just fine.
On the Ennis front, there was no news. In mid-August, Lureen had forwarded a postcard from him which said that November 7 still looked like the earliest. Jack mulled that over for more than a week before writing back that he'd moved to Colorado to take a job. He gave his work and home addresses and briefly indicated that the home address wasn't permanent. Ennis' response to that was just, silence.
Jack didn’t know what to think about November, figured he'd make up his mind when the time came. Then early in the fall, Joseph let it be known that he'd need him in Kansas come early November -- so Jack wrote Ennis again, explaining that he couldn't make the 7th because of work. First time ever in sixteen years! It took a few weeks, but Jack finally got a postcard back suggesting the middle of January -- that was earliest Ennis would be able to get time off from winter feeding.
Not long after that card came, Jack studied his face in the bathroom mirror after a long night out and abruptly shaved off his moustache. The man looking back at him was older than when he'd grown it, that was for sure, and it was a little like spotting someone he hadn't seen around in awhile. Upside of depression, at least he'd dropped his spare tire. He’d abandoned some of his Texas finery too - it looked out of place in the blue-collar places he'd been frequenting - for ruggeder clothing, and started talking less like a Texan and more like a Westerner. Guys in the bar liked him well enough when he wanted them to, which was about all that mattered. Jack didn't know whether to hate himself for it or not, but he wrote Ennis back later that week saying he'd try for mid-January.
He'd become drinking buddies with a small group of working guys, not real queer acting but gay enough to hang around at a nondescript two-room place (bar in front, two pool tables in back) named Edie's after some long-ago owner's wife or mother or daughter, feeling like there was safety in numbers. It was understood they were all queer -- a few had left wives or families in recent years. None of them wanted to talk about it, but they fucked each other as needed, brought in the occasional new guy to cautiously grow their numbers, and kept an eye out for one another in case any queer-bashing assholes came in. (That had happened a couple of months back, though the pair that had come in looking for trouble ended up leaving plenty sorry.)
Jack had found the place several years back and had been coming there ever since, though not with such regularity, and long-timers like Tom Barber could even recall back when Jack had a semi-regular thing going with a local lineman named Lyle. Jack had liked his lean muscles and spent a few nights in Lyle's one-bedroom apartment, but there hadn't been all that much to talk about outside of the sex, and he hadn't been particularly sorry when word got back to him that the phone company had moved Lyle out to Nevada.
One November evening, Jack came home tired after a day spent driving all over but decided he'd rather head to the bar and shoot some pool than fall directly into bed. He'd overheard some of the guys going on about a buddy of theirs who might show up and had just ordered another beer and a shot when he felt eyes on him and looked over to find himself being checked out by a younger guy, tallish, with a good build , fair hair and darker eyebrows. The guy was too good-looking, and his grin too much like a tractor beam, not to notice right away, that was for sure, but both of them got pulled into other conversations. When Tom finally introduced them, Jack learned that this was Tyler, the anticipated guy. Jack knew he’d seen him somewhere, though he doubted they’d fucked - a live wire like this he’d be sure to remember.
“So you got the hell outta Childress after all,” Tyler remarked as he took another sip of his beer, and Jack realized it was the guy from the bar on that sticky hot desolate day in Childress, the day his life had begun again after he'd realized death was right there. His Texas life had chewed him up and spit him right out, but into what? This limbo, with Ennis further away than ever…
The good-looking guy was waiting for his response, and he stuck out his hand. “Jack Twist.”
“Yeah, I know who you are.”
“Oh really? My reputation precede me?”
“Nope, my SOB of a step-dad had a ranch outside a Childress. Charles Pfeiffer, you must know that name. I spent a summer there while I was in high school and he dragged us along so he could do some business with Newsome Farm Machinery.”
It didn’t take them long to establish that Tyler’s step-dad Charlie had been a good friend of LD’s. Jack remembered him as a good ol' boy and, though he had no memory of Tyler, recalled that Charlie had spent part of the summer of ‘73 haggling with LD over a new combine set to deliver that fall. They were longtime buddies, what with years of poker nights, dance hall dinners and drinks at the Childress country club behind them. Charlie had left this world a couple of years before LD even, and Jack told Tyler he was sorry. “I’m not,” Tyler said. “That bastard. I’m glad my mom left him. She’s remarried, lives out in California now.” Jack dimly recalled Lureen and Fayette’s rather scandalized story of this breakup: the lady had abruptly moved back up north to her family in Colorado.
“So, have we already met?” Jack asked. Heat was pouring off the younger man’s body, aiming directly for him, but he tried to ignore it. Jack wouldn't have thought it was possible, but Tyler's grin widened.
“Bet you don’t remember meeting me. I was 17 at the time, bored outta my mind and antsy as hell, and Charlie was talking to your father-in-law about a new combine. Kept dragging us into the showroom with him while they were working it out.”
Jack thought back briefly to the summer of ’73: how brilliantly in love with Ennis he’d been, how flushed with excitement to meet up with him in the Shirlies for their August trip. They'd had a good time, too. Pretty much how he’d lived his life then, in three-to-six month intervals of longing, lust, triumph and then desperation, until the realization brought on by the divorce had shattered him so abruptly in the fall of ‘75. Jack could recall Charlie stopping by the dealership with a couple of fair-haired teenage boys who wanted to cut up and sneak cigarettes in the lot out back, and Charlie giving them hell.
“Yeah, that was me,” Tyler sighed, with mock drama. Something in his expression implied no shortage of adventures since then. “Can’t believe you remember. I quit smoking though.”
Another friend came up after that and Tyler was pulled away, though Jack caught him looking his way more than once. Flattering, but what the fuck? He seemed to know lotsa guys there, no shortage of admirers.
Another trip took Jack to Kansas for the better part of a week. He made it back on a Friday after staring at the road for twelve hours straight, almost went home because his back was hurting, but took some more pain pills and the turnoff for the bar, and ended up out at Tom's place with the rest of them.
If the guys at Edie's formed a sort of informal, barely-acknowledged family, Tom Barber was their patriarch. He was in his fifties, burly, bearded and pleasantly fatherly -- he had his fans. Some kind of group often headed to his place after the bar closed, or on the occasional long weekend when Tom felt like hosting. He lived on the remnants of an old family ranch outside of a little place called Larkspur, with neighbors who weren't close enough to hear or see anything, and who'd offered unconditional sympathy ever since his wife ran off with another man while their kids were still in school.
The house had a basement rec room with a pool table, a bar and some sparsely furnished spare bedrooms (Tom's kids were long grown), and the men were known to let their hair down in ways that wouldn't happen in town. Unknowns weren't invited, so it was as safe as it got: Tom even had four good-sized dogs who'd bark their heads off at anyone new, though they were cheerful tail-waggers after their owner gave the okay. Tom had a couple of gentle older horses too, and had even offered to let Jack board his horses in his barn. Jack thought about how much Bobby loved taking care of them back in Childress and said no thank you, though he'd stop by to help out and take one of Tom's mares out for a ride whenever he was in the vicinity. Aside from pain pills and lying flat, it was about the only thing that made his back feel better when it was aching.
Jack was playing pool downstairs when Tyler sauntered, yes sauntered, in. Seemed to have a few drinks in him too, which made him even friendlier.
"I swear, if it ain't Jack fuckin' Twist... we meet again."
They shook hands and ended up playing a few games, were pretty evenly matched because Jack got lucky a few times -- Tyler was something of a shark, he could tell. "Grew up with a pool table," Tyler finally admitted. He bumped into Jack a few times coming around the table, and eyeballed him too, but Jack wasn't sure what he intended to do about that... wouldn't be averse to fucking someone tonight, and although younger men had never really been his thing, this one was hard to resist. Well, Tyler had to be coming up on thirty, which meant he wasn't so young...
"Had the hots for you when I was a teenager, you know, though I know you never looked at me twice," Tyler sighed at one point after sidling up next to him for a shot. Jack considered himself difficult to surprise in such situations but couldn't help but stare a bit at that. It got a satisfied smirk out of Tyler but made Jack think back on those days: he'd been so in love with Ennis that he never gave any guy a second look, least of all a teenager. Jack had heard it through the grapevine that Tyler had run off and spent some time on the West Coast, in San Francisco and Los Angeles both, and even that he'd worked as a hustler. None of the men had any judgments about that; it just seemed to add to Tyler's allure. Watching him play, Jack could see how it might be true -- nice ass under those Wranglers. Tyler's lanky build reminded him a bit of a younger Ennis, truth to tell, though not so much his face: not so worried looking, and Tyler was more expressive. He sure seemed to know how to bend over the table, well aware of what he was doing with his body, his longish shock of blonde hair, bright greenish eyes and bold grin...
Jack was flattered in a bemused way by the play for his attention, not disinterested, yet not in any hurry either. Felt like something inside him had been sleeping and was wary of being rousted, for all that he hadn't had any qualms about satisfying urges when they'd come up since his move, and for a long time before that. He let someone else take over the table, wandered outside to smoke and listened to a couple of guys bitch about the price of gasoline and the economy before considering upcoming hunting trips as they sat by the fire pit. Time was he'd have weighed in with smart comments if nothing else, but the brooding, watchful silences that had settled over him these last few months had stuck. Sometimes I miss you so much... Didn't seem to be much else to say after that, did there. At least the fire was warm.
It was at the end of a long night, when Jack had turned down an offer to fuck Brian but not an offer to watch Brian with Martin, that he headed into the kitchen to grab another beer from the six packs he'd stowed in the fridge. He figured he'd take a hot shower and head home for a nice long sleep, if he didn't get caught up in another game of pool first. Most of the guys were asleep or otherwise engaged though a few were ready to watch the sunrise. Jack was headed down the hall for the shower when Tyler suddenly bounded up the stairs from the basement. “Okay if I join you?” he asked matter-of-factly. He flashed a quick grin, but it was something in his eyes and the sudden lurch in Jack's crotch that made Jack say yes.
Tyler followed him into the bathroom, where Tom had replaced the old tub with a tiled shower, and took off his shirt and dropped his jeans without preamble. Damn, he looked even finer without them, Jack had to admit: nice lean muscles, the kind he'd lusted after on the rodeo circuit, not to mention up on the mountain all those years ago. Tyler cranked up the hot water and got in first. "Too hot for you?," he asked. Jack said it wasn't. They passed the soap back and forth with minimal words, but Tyler kept moving closer and soon Jack was between him and the tiles. They were almost chest to chest, with Tyler taking a long look down their bodies. Jack noticed that Tyler was maybe an inch taller, his chest smooth and almost hairless in comparison to the jagged scars on his own body, and the dark fur which now covered much of his chest before trailing off over his stomach and then growing heavier again at his groin and on his legs.
Tyler hadn’t been shy before and he was less shy now. He pushed the shower head over so hot water was running down part of Jack's back and leaned in so their chests finally touched, but barely. Jack sighed at that but flinched when Tyler touched his jaw as if to kiss him; it had been a long time since he'd done that with a new guy with any enthusiasm, and he wasn't ready for it now. He'd gotten used to turning his partners around and bending them over, or someone being on their knees in short order...
Tyler didn't seem to mind, just stopped that and let his fingers trail down Jack's chest. The hot water felt fine, and Jack had to admit there wasn’t anything wrong with the smell of him, or the sheen of his lightly tanned skin, or the heat coming off his body. Tyler's eyes and lips fluttered in a smile and the next thing Jack knew, he'd shifted down and over and had one hand on Jack's nipple and his mouth near the other. Tyler looked right at him and then latched on, and Jack felt the shock of it and looked away, but not for long. Tyler's free hand stroked Jack's chest and stomach and started south, and he pulled off just enough to murmur something -- Jack couldn't really follow, but it had the general sound of asking permission to proceed. Fuckin' A yes, Jack suddenly thought. The jolt had gone directly to his cock, and he knew the desire for more must be written plainly on his face. He was suddenly so hard it hurt , and just like a slow-motion but irreversible fall from a bull, Tyler slid the rest of the way to his knees, grabbed the base of Jack's hard-on and gradually took the head and more into his mouth, meeting Jack's eyes the whole time.
Foremost in Jack's mind was the thought that he hadn’t known how much he’d needed to get blown. It was like getting a good lungful of air after nearly suffocating, and he shifted slightly on his feet and didn't notice his tongue finding the corner of his mouth, though Tyler did. It occurred to him that the sight of his dick disappearing into this guy's mouth was just what he needed right now, and he knew he'd be going off like a bottle rocket in no time. Tyler switched off using his mouth and his hand and even his other thumb under Jack's testicles with backing off to make it last, until Jack made a noise to indicate that wasn't suiting him anymore. He shot intensely after just a few minutes of the sucking and warmth and Tyler's firm grip and bold, level gaze, and then sank partway against the warm tile under the beautifully hot rushing water. Tyler swallowed some of his load, let the rest wash away, and gently propped him up when Jack's legs got rubbery.
“Goddamn,” was all Jack could manage as he stared up wide-eyed into the light fixture overhead. He'd rocketed out of his body without expecting it, and now it felt like he was being poured back in the consistency of molasses. He allowed himself to rest against Tyler for half a minute and lamely felt for his hard-on. “Now you?” Jack managed when Tyler made an approving noise but didn't lurch in his hand.
“You want it?” Tyler murmured. Jack didn't answer immediately; getting Tyler off would be the polite thing to do for sure, but exhaustion was closing in on him and he wasn't sure how much he cared just now, quite frankly. “I don’t mind waiting,” Tyler practically purred in his ear when Jack said nothing. What the hell? Tyler stepped out of the shower, grabbed them both a couple of towels, and was dressed and ready while Jack was still fumbling with his clothes. “Was good,” Tyler breathed into his neck during a short embrace. Felt a little to Jack like being hugged like the family dog. Then Tyler was off down the hall.
Jack headed for the kitchen, where he found Tom starting some food for whomever wanted it. “Fuckin’ Tyler got you in the shower didn’t he?” his host inquired cheerfully. Jack wondered how Tom knew, but then, if you wanted to keep something a secret, you didn’t carry on at Tom's place. “He’s pulled some crazy stunts but he’s a good guy. I’ve known him for years, even knew his grandpa too, way back when. His family's raised horses out here for generations. Congratulations, I think he likes you…”
Tyler had headed out on a grocery store run but would be back in a little while. Jack didn’t wait around; he drove back to his little place, pulled down the shades, and got some much-needed sleep. Wrang it out a couple of times too, thinking about that shower. Goodlookin' boy had gotten him pretty good with that nice mouth a his, he had to admit...
tbc