Stonegate Stables - 9. Chapter 9

“It’s okay,” I assured him, rubbing his chest. “I want to watch you.” I rolled to my knees and pushed TJ down to the bed, kissing him on the way. “This is a good time to do it. You just came, so you’re relaxed. Vincent’s bigger than me, so you’re gonna need to relax.”

I knelt at his side, poured lube into my hand, and went to work on his hole, easing a finger in gently at first, and then moving it around more vigorously before adding a second one. It took him several minutes to be comfortable with a third, but soon he was moaning and rolling his head back and forth. Vincent moved into position, and pushed TJ's knees back.

“Keep breathing, and push a little.” I repeated my instructions from two weeks ago. Vincent gripped his cock and pushed firmly, popping in easily, although TJ gasped and pulled away a little. “Try to relax,” I told him, stroking his chest, talking softly to him.

“Ohhhh, God, he feels so different from you,” he moaned in a strained voice. “It hurts a little.” He reached out and Vincent grabbed his hand. I rubbed a slick finger around between his balls and Vincent's dick, and he began to relax into the feeling instead of fighting it.

“You’re okay, as long as it’s just a little.”

He nodded, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in deeps breaths. After a minute or so, he looked up at Vincent. “Go ahead.”

Vincent wrapped his hands around the front of TJ’s thighs, and worked his cock in another couple inches. TJ arched his head back, pushing his shoulders off the bed, but didn’t say anything. Vincent paused to regain some control, groaning deep in his chest. He pushed in a few more inches, eliciting a long moan from TJ, but still no signal to stop. Vincent leaned forward onto braced arms, and grunted his way to full penetration, pushing TJ up the bed a little. TJ was shaking badly, and Vincent wasn’t much better - a sheen of sweat covered his body and he shivered repeatedly, like a wet dog.

Seeing Vincent like this was an emotional struggle for me. It was the first time we’d played with someone else since we’d committed to a partnership. And we didn’t know TJ well. Watching him fuck another man, seeing him so powerfully caught up in it, nicked at something deep inside me. On the other hand, it was incredibly erotic to see him take TJ as he’d taken me so many times. I looked at the point where Vincent merged with TJ, the pink skin of TJ’s hole stretched tight around the pulsing veins of Vincent’s thick brown cock. Erotic won out, and I kissed Vincent deeply and long enough that he looked at me questioningly when we broke apart. I just smiled at him. We looked down at TJ who was watching us with envy.

“I so hope I can find that someday. You two are amazing together.”

We grinned at each other, knowing how fortunate we were. Vincent looked back to TJ.

“You ready?”

TJ took a deep breath and nodded, grabbing the backs of his knees. Vincent’s face was a study in concentration as he started slowly, going deeper and harder as TJ’s expression eased. A few times TJ was at the ragged edge, but Vincent backed off and tugged TJ’s balls down until he could take some more. I’d been on the receiving end of Vincent at his best, and knew what TJ was going through. There really is nothing like getting fucked by a guy who knows what he’s doing and is in the mood to show you.

At the end, TJ was crying out with each stroke, his knees around his ears. Vincent was dripping sweat and grunting each time he drove forward. I stuck my hand between them and grabbed TJ’s hard dick in a firm fist. He shot immediately, splattering cum all over his chest. Vincent took a few more hard strokes, drove deep and froze, his face the only clue to the powerful orgasm he was experiencing. I was so aroused by the sight of them that I came again without even touching myself, pumping hot spurts onto Vincent’s knee. He opened his eyes at the unexpected warmth and gave me a steamy look.

He pulled free and collapsed face first between TJ and me, an arm over each of us. “Fuck, I’m done for. You couldn’t get a rise out of me with a fork lift.”

I patted him on the butt. “You’ll feel better after a shower.” He just groaned. TJ looked like he’d been run over by a truck, but sat up when I shook him. We grabbed Vincent by the ankles and dragged him off the bed till his knees hit the floor, then skipped out of the way laughing as he swung around, growling and swiping at our legs. We finally made it to the shower, got clean and sort of dressed - boxers all around – and trooped down to the kitchen where Adam and Wade were dishing out scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Cody and Dylan were on the patio, shoveling food into their faces when we joined them.

“Theah’s somethin' ‘bout fuckin’ in a strange bed that makes me ravenous,” Cody mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

Wade cuffed him gently on the back of the head as he came out from the kitchen. “You’re always hungry. It’s got nothing to do with strange beds, for God’s sake. And we didn’t fuck, we made love.”

Cody snorted. “Sorry, honey. You may a been making love ta me but Ah was fuckin’ you.” That got him a hard punch from Wade that knocked him off his chair, and launched us into a discussion regarding the nature of the word ‘fuck.’ Dylan claimed that ‘fuck’ was the basic noun to describe one guy’s dick in another guy’s ass. You could dress it up however you liked – it was still a fuck.

Those of us in a relationship disagreed, stating that it might be fucking in a technical sense – ‘fuck’ as a verb – but it was definitely 'making love' emotionally, at least most of the time. That got us off into the various ways ‘fuck’ could be used. As an adverb – ‘he’s so fucking hot.’ As a noun – 'I don’t give a fuck.’ As part of a word – ‘abso-fucking-lutely', 'in-fucking-credible.’

I looked at Vincent and shook my head, smiling, amused at the turn our breakfast conversation had taken. Dylan saw me. “What, are we too juvenile for you now?” His voice was harsh and we all stared at him. He flushed then, a dark brick red that started on his neck and spread quickly to his face. Shoving back his chair, he went into the house, and a few moments later we heard his truck start, then the angry sound of squealing tires as they caught on the asphalt of the road.

“Jesus, what got into him?” Adam’s voice was quiet, shocked. Dylan had always been the kidder among us, upbeat, joking, ready for anything. This was very out of character and it scared me a little. Vincent put a hand on my shoulder.

“I think maybe ‘we’ got into him. Go find him, Sean.” I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, trying to think where he might have gone. A few places came to mind, but one stood out, and I headed north on the freeway. When we were teenagers, we used to go out into the hills, camping and hiking, fooling around in our little tent, just the two of us. We never took anyone else along, and we swore we would never bring anyone to our spot. It was just for us.

His truck was parked haphazardly under a big tree at the turnoff, but he wasn’t in it. I walked slowly down the trail, listening for him, looking through the trees, but I didn’t spot him until I emerged into the clearing where we used to pitch the tent. He was sitting on a stump, his back to me, leaning forward, elbows on knees with his head in his hands. I watched him for a moment before walking slowly to him. I sunk down to the ground a few feet away. He’d been crying, and scrubbed his arm across his face when he saw me.

“Go the fuck away.” His voice wobbled, and he gulped down another sob.

I watched him for a moment, wondering how to handle this. I think I knew what the problem was, but needed to make him see it instead of telling him what I thought. “Do you love me?”

His head came up angrily, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Just answer it. Do you love me?”

“God, Sean, you know I do. I have forever.”

“Are you in love with me?”

That stopped him. The fingers of one hand rubbed hard over the knuckles of the other as he looked away, staring unseeingly at the trees. It took a while, and when he answered, his voice was small. “No.” He turned to look at me for the first time. “No, I’m not in love with you.” He dropped his head back into his hands, and his shoulders jerked as he tried to get his emotions under control. “But I love you and I love being with you. Those nights on the couch, watching stupid movies, feeding you whatever dessert I brought . . .” His voice trailed off. “I’ll miss that.”

“You heard me back at the pool - Vincent and I are still going to play.”

“Yeah, together.” He flushed again, but it was from embarrassment this time and colored only his pale, freckled cheeks. “Look, I’m sorry. I'm happy for you. Vincent is a great guy. It just caught me by surprise, I guess. I mean, after all these years, who’d have thought?”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d know him all my life. He was the first boy I'd had sex with - fumbling, sweaty, no clue what we were doing sex - but sex nonetheless. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that he would be upset by my becoming Vincent’s partner. I had naively assumed that everyone would be happy for us, and I hadn't given a thought to anyone's feelings but my own.

I crawled to him, pushing between his knees so that I could hug him. He just sat there for a minute, and then wrapped his arms around me, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I love those evenings, too. Let me talk to Vincent.”

He pulled back to look at me. “And what, get permission?” he said sullenly.

“No,” I said, stung by his sarcastic tone. “Just discuss it with him.”

I hugged him tight for a moment and kissed the side of his neck, then got to my feet and walked back to my truck, thinking about relationships, how complex people were, realizing that you can never know what goes on in someone else’s head no matter how well you think you know them. It made me sad to think I might lose Dylan’s friendship, but that would be his choice. I could only try to make it as unlikely as possible.

By the time I got back to the house, everyone had gone, and Vincent was out by the jungle pool, bringing in the leftover food. I helped him carry in the last load, putting things away and getting the kitchen back to some sort of order for Maria in the morning. He didn’t talk to me during all this, just worked by my side, giving me a little smile when our eyes met, and his quiet understanding made it easy for me to talk to him. I told him what Dylan had said, not making a case one way or the other, and when I was done, he dropped into the nearest chair and pulled me down onto his lap.

“I work a night or two each week at the restaurant. Spend those evenings with Dylan.”

“He doesn’t want to just watch TV on the couch with me.”

“I know.” He was quiet for a bit. “It’s okay, Sean.”

“Okay for me to fuck around without you? I don’t want to do that. That’s not what we agreed to.” My voice rose as I spoke, and he patted my chest. I knew I was upset because if he would allow me, maybe I had to allow him someday, and I didn't think I wanted to do that.

“Calm down. I’m not saying you can go screw the entire gay population of the tri-county area. Just Dylan. And just until he gets used to the idea of us. We can fit three on that couch.”

We didn’t talk anymore about it. Vincent had given me a way to fix a problem with someone I cared about, and the depth of his trust filled me with a soul-deep contentment that I knew would get me through almost anything life could throw at us. We spent the rest of the day messing around the house, rearranging some furniture to make an office for Vincent’s endless restaurant paperwork. I thought you needed food to run a restaurant, but apparently you needed a shitload of paper, too. Health certificates, liquor license applications, employee applications, vendor order forms, invoices, daily departmental reports, P&L statements; the list went on and on, and Vincent spent a couple hours a day on it, some here and some at the office at Corleone’s.

In the afternoon we went for a ride. I had brought home Ima Cool Chex, one of Cody’s retired roping horses, and had been teaching Vincent to ride. He took to it like a natural, and we wandered around the bridle paths for a couple hours, saying hi to neighbors and admiring their gardens. I saw a fountain I liked and we decided to put one on the back patio. Vincent wanted to try doing it on horseback, but I persuaded him to wait till dark that evening and see if it was even possible in the safety of my own barn. With that to look forward to, we spent a pleasant evening eating pool party leftovers and lounging around the jungle pool, trying to psych ourselves up for Monday.

When it was dark, we grabbed a bottle of lube and a pocket full of carrots, and headed down to the little barn on the hill. Zena and Chex were standing in the paddock, hipshot, dozing. They perked up when they saw us, and came into the barn for the carrots. I haltered Zena and hopped on her bareback. “Get up behind me. We need to get her used to our weight first.”

Vincent climbed on from the fence, and we walked her around a while. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other, so we went back in the barn and slid off. I put her in the cross tie stall, but left the rope over her neck and hung a hay bag where she could reach it while Vincent stripped and stroked himself. “Are you gonna saddle her?”

“Not unless you want me to sing soprano. The horn’ll castrate me, and there isn’t enough room for both of us anyway. Get on.”

Once Vincent was on her, I climbed up the rails and carefully slid a leg over Zena, ending up on Vincent’s lap. I lay forward over Zena’s neck while he got himself hard and played with my ass a little.

“Ok, I’m ready.”

He held me by the hips and pulled me back onto him. It took us a few tries to get him lined up properly, and I was starting to giggle, but then he suddenly slid into me, taking my breath.

“Ooooohhh! Bull’s eye!”

He cracked up, and we had to stop for a minute while Zena calmed down from my shriek. When she was eating again, I pulled myself forward using a handful of her mane. Vincent pulled me back, and we were able to achieve almost a full stroke, but my balls were squashed on Zena’s hard withers, so it wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. Then I had the bright idea of turning us both around. If I lay over her big broad rump, my poor nuts would have plenty of room and Vincent would have better access to my ass.

One by one, we swung our legs to the same side, then back over the other way and, presto, we were facing backwards, except I was behind Vincent instead of in front of him. I pushed him down flat and crawled over him until we were in the right positions. Zena laid her ears back at this maneuver, but got over it when I spoke sharply to her. I scooted back toward Vincent’s pulsing erection, and he guided himself into me without a hitch. Other than scratchy horse hair in our crotches, it was pretty good. We didn’t actually go anywhere; we didn’t have a good way to stay on her and concentrate on fucking at the same time, not to mention being unable to steer while facing her tail. And trying to stay quiet to not spook her put a damper on our orgasms, so Vincent chalked the whole thing up as one of those fantasies that are better off left in your head.

On the way back to the house, we stopped by the Jacuzzi and took turns getting the horse hair out of each other’s nether regions. Vincent was sprawled on his chest on the warm concrete, kneeling on one of the ledges so his dick and balls were hanging in the hot bubbling water, while I plucked stray Zena hairs off his ass. When I was finished, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his butt cheek, tickling him with my tongue in between nibbles. He spread his knees for me, arching his back a little as I dragged my tongue into the crevice of his ass, and in no time I had him groaning and pushing back into me, rotating his hole on my tongue. My cock was painfully hard, stimulated by both the taste and feel of Vincent and the caressing swirl of the water jets. Desire rolled through me, and I did something I'd never done before.

I climbed out of the hot tub, and hauled him over to a chaise lounge, pushing him face down with his legs bent and his feet on the ground, spreading him wide. I stood straddled over the chaise behind him, lubed us quickly and shoved a finger in him abruptly enough that he gasped, but didn’t protest. When I added a second finger with no reaction from him except a low moan, I pulled out and pushed my cock firmly into him, sliding all the way to the root on one long stroke. He was trembling a little, but his moan was one of pleasure, not pain, and it excited me, so I began to thrust fast and deeply, angling for his prostate every third or fourth stroke. The lean muscles of his legs stood out tensely, and he let out a hard grunt each time my belly slapped into his ass.

This was very different from my usual taking of him, and I wondered where it had come from. That he was accepting it with such abandon was a little unsettling also. It was as though our roles had been reversed, or at least blurred a little. I was now the aggressor, and he the more passive one. Our relationship had never been one of extremes, but it was clear to both of us that Vincent exerted more control over me than I did him, and we were fine with that. I trusted him, and followed his lead in most things with the confidence that he would never do anything to hurt me or go too far beyond what I was comfortable with.

But here we were.

I curled my upper body over him, bracing myself on straight arms at either side of his chest, and let my body do what it wanted until my legs began to shake from exertion. Putting both hands under his hips, I pulled him to his feet and locked one arm around his waist, reaching for his cock with my other hand. He was as hard as I've ever seen him, and a long shimmery strand of precum hung from his slit, whipping back and forth as I banged into him. Unlike some guys, Vincent always stayed hard when he was penetrated. His balls were tight to the base of his cock and I knew he was ready to blow, so I let myself go and jerked him hard and quick. His moan went up an octave, and then turned to short deep grunts as his cock swelled in my hand, and he began to spurt load after load onto the cushion, his entire body convulsing against me with the effort.

The feel of him coming in my fist pushed me over the edge, and I drove deep into him as my balls contracted. When the first pulse rippled up my cock, I rode it, taking short strokes timed with the spasms, until I couldn’t move any more. I pulled out of him and let him down onto the chaise, kneeling forward between his legs to rest my chest on his butt, my head pillowed in my arms on his back. We lay there, not speaking for several minutes, getting our breath back. Finally, he pushed to his feet, took me by the hand, walked silently to the house, up the stairs, and straight into the shower. He didn’t speak to me or look at me, and I began to wonder if I had overstepped some line between us that I hadn’t been aware of.

He dried me off gently, almost reverently, and led me to bed. As we lay down, he pushed me onto my back and draped himself over me, propped on an elbow so we could look at each other. He played with my armpit hair, twining it gently around a finger and tugging a little. Finally, he looked at me.

“What was that?” His tone was neutral, and I studied his face for a clue as to what he was feeling.

“I don’t know exactly. When I had my tongue in your ass, I just suddenly felt like I had to have you. It’s never been like that because you always offer yourself to me when you wanna get fucked.” I paused, wondering what the hell he was thinking, if he was angry. “I’m sorry if it… if I… offended you, but it just felt right. I’m not sure I could have stopped.” He didn’t say anything, just kept wandering his hand through my armpit and over my chest. “Vincent?”

“I’m trying to find the words.” He leaned down to lick my nipple until it tightened, sucking it for a moment. “I wasn’t offended, I was astounded. You’ve never come after me like that, and I almost shot when you put the first finger in me.” He kissed me softly. “I didn’t know I could feel like that.”

“Like what, exactly? Was it good?”

“Yes, it was good. What do you think I’m saying here?” He spoke impatiently, frowning at me.

“Well, so far you’ve only said it was different, not good.”

“Yes! It was good! It was fucking amazing!” He paused, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve never been… I don’t know… overwhelmed by you before. I guess maybe now I know a little how you felt that first night a couple weeks ago when I used you hard.”

I nodded. “I’ve always liked it when you get a little rough with me. It makes me feel like you want me so badly you can hardly control yourself.”

“Exactly. I just never felt that from you. I liked it, too.”

As he smiled at me, another small knot was tied into the countless woven strands that made up the fabric of our relationship. We curled up together, him on his back, me on my side, my face pressed to his upper arm. I lay there for a while, his heart beating under my palm, thinking of our evolving relationship. Tonight had been something new, a scenario in which I had a slightly stronger hand, and I fell asleep with visions of Vincent’s pleasure-tortured face swirling through my head.