Ladies' Man - 1. Chapter 1

“Jesus,” Clem glanced across from the window of the tool shop at the hard tone in Nathan’s voice. “Fucking city faggots. What the hell are they doin’ down here?”

Clem winced automatically at the derogatory statement, and the vicious inflection Nathan had used, and hoped they hadn’t been able to hear him. The couple Nathan was sneering at were nothing particularly special, just a pair of cute guys in skinny jeans and trendy t-shirts, one with fantastically styled hair that defied all realities of physics. Clem sighed softly; they looked like the sort of guys he wanted to be friends with.

They had left the truck outside the diner where they’d gone for lunch, and Clem pulled himself up into the passenger seat of Nathan’s Chevy Silverado, wishing he’d been allowed to drive his Ford F250 instead. But Nathan never wanted to come out in his boyfriend’s truck.

“Can you fuckin’ believe those guys?” Nathan obviously didn’t require an answer, because he carried on without pausing for space to draw breath. “I mean fuckin’ hell. I’m gay because I like guys: not because I like girls. What the hell do they think they look like?”

“If they’re happy, who cares?” Clem replied softly. Nathan reached out and knuckled his shoulder, slightly too hard to be just a friendly gesture.

“You’re too nice,” Nathan flashed a white toothed smile at him before he put the truck in drive to pull away, “they’re probably just jealous ‘cause they can’t get real men like us.”

Clem smiled tightly, but didn’t say anything: it wasn’t worth it. Nathan was right to be proud of the way he looked, he was most gay guys wet dream made flesh: six-four, with big shoulders and a fully delineated six pack, sun tanned body and sun burnt neck, permanent stubble and sparkling blue eyes under his cream cowboy hat. Put side by side, most people would assume Clem was his twin rather than his lover.

Nathan drove them out of downtown Lockhart and east, away from the city and into the green and red brown country both of them called home. The Cole family ranch was closer, and was where Clem had left his prized Ford truck sitting, waiting for his return outside of Nathan’s simple but well maintained trailer. Moving off the ranch had never been something he was interested in, but with four younger sisters, Clem didn’t blame his boyfriend for wanting to get out of the main house. Just as the dust of their arrival settled, and Clem thought Nathan was simply going to jump out and abandon him, the other young man leant across the cab and kissed him hard on the lips. Clem grunted in surprise and delight as Nathan parted his lips and they explored each other with questing tongues.

“Come on in. I got cold ones in the fridge.” Nathan could always be relied upon to have enough beer to make an elephant tipsy hidden around his trailer.

Clem took his boots off in the hallway, just like he always did, but Nathan simply thumbed open the fly of his jeans and flapped the hem of his t-shirt as he walked into the little house. Clem watched his boyfriend take two beers from the fridge, pop the tops, and settle onto the sofa. There was something lovely about the way the lines of his body curved as he moved, and Clem couldn’t help but follow Nathan’s strong legs inexorably to his crotch. He rather desperately wanted to cross the twelve feet of slightly worn carpeting, kneel between Nathan’s thick thighs and kiss his boyfriend until he could barely breathe; but he knew it would be pointless. Instead he took the beer Nathan had left parked on the coffee table and settled, straddling the padded arm of the sofa. Even as he drank, Clem could feel Nathan watching him, eyeing him up, but it wasn’t altogether friendly or relaxing.

“You OK, Clem?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clem smiled tightly at his boyfriend; it wouldn’t do to admit that he was still replaying the earlier incident in his mind, trying to work out if the cute twink couple had heard what Nathan had said. Apparently the big cowboy hadn’t forgotten about it either.

“Why they hell would a couple of sissy boys from Austin come down to Lockhart anyway?” Nathan drained half his long necked brown glass bottle. “They had no rights being down at McCoy’s anyway.”

“Maybe they were building something,” Clem shrugged.

“Yeah, like either one of those faggots would know which end of a screwdriver to hold,” Nathan adjusted his hips and grabbed his crotch in a gesture which Clem sometimes found sexy. Now was not one of those times. “Weirdoes should stay in Austin.”

“Nate…” Clem exhaled, “don’t say that.”

“What? Not this again.” Nathan finally toed off his boots and dumped them in front of the sofa. “We’re not like them Clem.”

“We’re not that different…” Clem grunted.

“Hey!” Nathan grabbed his wrist and pulled Clem towards him roughly. “Don’t say that. We’re men; they’re queers.” Nathan’s grip was tight on his forearm, but he pulled Clem against his chest with the other hand, fingers running up and down his back. “We’re men, Clem: strong, powerful,” he pressed his rough palm against Clem’s crotch as he whispered in his ear, “hard.”

Clem couldn’t help but smile a little as Nathan pressed against him, all hard muscle and rippling abs. He could feel the heat of his boyfriend’s erection against his hip, and then Nathan took his jaw and kissed him. It was all hard and rough and full of teeth, and they ended up on the floor, the hard edge of Nathan’s Double H western boots digging into Clem’s spine until he broke the kiss to grab them and toss them across the room.

“Hey careful with those,” Nathan’s fist in the front of his shirt shook him a little bit, “them’s good boots.”

“And what’s wrong with the mattress?” Clem arched an eyebrow.

“Well that’d involve letting you go…”

Clem didn’t think they’d ever had sex fully naked, except for in the shower, and now was no exception. Nathan pushed up his shirt and ripped Clem’s jeans down just far enough. Clem worked his hand into Nathan’s fly to wrap around his cock, and for one beautiful moment as his boyfriend kissed him he thought he was going to be lucky enough to have his second greatest fantasy come true. He resisted Nathan’s hands, but the cowboy was more determined than his partner, and Clem gasped as he was flipped over, the air leaving his lungs all at once. Nathan growled against the back of his neck, teeth nipping the permanently reddish skin, and Clem moaned loudly as his body was invaded. It hurt, because true to form, Nathan hadn’t slowed down long enough to get lube, and he stretched Clem with two fingers before pulling out.

“Nate!” Clem panted with his fist against the floor and shoulders tense as his boyfriend shoved his thighs apart, spread his buttocks and pushed against his entrance. When he thrust inside, Clem bit his forearm rather than scream aloud.

Nate was rough and powerful, and Clem wondered if he’d have carpet burn on his elbows, again, and was sort of glad he wouldn’t be rubbing his knees raw too. He was tense all over, but ten strokes later, the pain had faded, and Clem felt his spine curve, changing the angle of his hips slightly as the friction pushed pleasure through his system instead. Nate grunted, and then he was leaning over Clem, fists either side of his head, and slamming into him with all the force in his well-built body.

“Fuck…” he plunged deeper, and Clem nearly coughed with the force of his chest and neck being pressed against the floor, “ungh…I’m coming!”

Clem waited until he was done, and then winced as his boyfriend pulled out of him and knelt back. Clem could feel his cocky grin without even turning over.

“Let me see you.”

It was a well-practiced ritual; Clem rolled over and wrapped his hand around his erection, threw back his head and grunted as he jacked himself until he came. Nathan smirked, like it was a victory. Clem fought to draw breath as he came down from his ecstatic high and pulled himself up as Nathan stood, tucking his dick back into his jeans. Nathan was already back to drinking his beer by the time Clem had made his way to the bathroom to clean up.

“I’m gonna go,” Clem knuckled Nathan’s shoulder softly with a half a smile.

“Finish your beer.”

“No, I’m good. I got stuff to get back to,” Clem jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“’Suppose. See ya.”

Clem drove home by himself with all the windows rolled down and the stereo turned way up. The heat of the day had faded, but Clem found an old green John Deere ball cap on the little used passenger seat and pulled it on over his permanently un-styled dark blond hair. Sitting down was only slightly uncomfortable, and Clem fidgeted to get comfortable as he took the single lane of black top out towards the ranch.

Unlike Nathan Cole, Clem’s family had not been tolerant when he had announced his preference for going out with other men. Whilst nothing so dramatic as being chased out of town had occurred, Clem’s father had told his son that no Linton man who wanted to screw guys would be welcome to stay. Clem had found a job on a sheep and hay farm on the other side of the city, and the first time he’d left his new home and workplace to make a delivery, he’d met Nathan. That first day, and for many afterwards, Clem couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten to wind up dating a hot, manly cowboy, the subject of so many late night, early morning, and middle of the afternoon fantasies.

Clem, like the other two ranch hands, lived in a long converted barn about a quarter mile from the big ranch house. The main house was classically built, all white wooden panelling and a wide porch that wrapped around all four sides. There was a big oak tree, a tyre swing, and a collection of rocking chairs and benches left out on the porch. The screens on every window were shut, but all doors and windows were open to the soft warm breeze. The barn was old, but had been converted well and was in excellent condition. The three ranch hands shared a hallway that acted often times as their communal living room, and it was a good place to sit in the evenings and fix bits of equipment and sharpen tools. Clem had his own set of rooms, private and all of his own as part of his pay, and though they had all their main meals in the house on weekdays, he had a tiny kitchen built into one wall of the small living room. The rest of the place wasn’t much, but a decent and fully functional bathroom with a shower tall enough that he didn’t have to stoop, and a bedroom with a queen sized bed were not to be laughed at.

There were still plenty of hours in the day to get some decent work done, so Clem parked his truck in front of the house, went to change his shirt and splash water on his face, and then drove the Ford out to the wood workshop to pick up a whole bunch of fence boards. The sheep were in their big summer pastures, but the fences on the winter ones hadn’t been maintained since the previous spring. Clem didn’t feel much like talking with any of the other staff. Half way down the long hayfield, Clem glanced in the wing mirror and watched a brown and white shape flashing in the golden grass. He slowed and let the engine idle, and opened the driver’s door. Ten seconds later, a happy spaniel jumped into his lap, nuzzled his jaw and paced across to the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I’ve been keeping it free for you Wilson,” Clem smiled at the spaniel and ruffled his floppy ears. “You gonna come fix fences with me or what?”

Wilson barked in agreement, though Clem had no idea with which half of the question, and stared expectantly out of the windshield. Clem shut the door and drove.

There were a dozen or so boards along the edge of the fields that needed replacing or fixing, places where sheep had gnawed at the wood or deer passing through had jumped them and kicked back. Some were just old, a little rotten, and fragile enough not to withstand the pressure of Clem’s steel capped boot toe. Clem marked loose fence posts with a can of red spray-dye from the back of his truck, and in the morning he and the boys would come down to re-set them and firm up the rest of the structure. There was something lovely about kneeling in the field, hammering long steel nails into the wooden boards of the fence, the sun warm but not hot on his back, Wilson alternately lying panting in the grass and snuffling around with his tail wagging happily. It was the sort of work Clem loved. It was hard, and he was sweating by the time the longest length of the field was done. Clem sat on the tailgate of his truck sharing a handful of minty lifesavers with the spaniel next to him, and looked out across the fields, imagining what it would be like one day to have a little place of his own.

The Four Corners Ranch was a sheep and hay farm on five-hundred acres of land as flat as a pancake. The owners had planted a small amount of woodland and tree hedgerows around the place to provide shade, and the winter fields were much smaller, making it easier to separate the sheep from each other and pen them up for shearing, foot trimming, and eventual round-up for the abattoir. Currently they were becoming fat and happy in the enormous pastures on the north side of the farm, teasing the two rams that lay around in their smaller field, eating summer hay and waiting for their chance to get laid a lot. Every now and then, Clem was jealous of their uncomplicated relationships.

Every time he thought about what Nathan had said, he felt sick. It was far from the first time his boyfriend had shot his mouth off about other gay guys they saw around in the city. The one and only time Nathan had ever driven them up to Austin, he had become so generally angry that Clem hadn’t said a word the whole way back, but had to listen to Nathan ranting like a bigoted redneck idiot of the worst kind. It had been the most uncomfortable half hour of Clem’s entire life; including the sit down across the parlour table conversation he’d had with his father before he’d left Linton property for good. To have to sit there and say nothing to his boyfriend as he spouted such hurtful things was just as bad as being in the locker room after high school football and listening to jocks making fun of the hot skinny guy who ran on the track team and dyed a purple streak into his hair senior year. It had made Clem want to throw up then, and it wasn’t any better now.

Sometimes Clem wondered why he put up with it, and sitting in a Texas sheep field with nothing but grass, an orange sunset and the company of a very happy spaniel, Clem couldn’t work out why he was so miserable. Mostly Nathan was fun to hang out with; they got on well, worked together now and then, and had a good time. Often the sex was great: sometimes the sex was mediocre. Clem thought back to the moment when he had hoped they might end up having sex face to face, and sighed heavily, falling back into the bed of the truck with his hands behind his head. They hadn’t actually kissed while fucking for probably three months, because Nathan liked him on his front, on his knees, and whenever possible, biting the pillow. Clem hated to dwell on what might have been, but when he closed his eyes in the field, he thought about Nathan, and how good he had looked slouched on his sofa. Clem had wanted to go over there, kiss him until they were breathless, knee between his thighs and fuck his lover slowly and smoothly until they were both too full of desire and passion to stop. But it was not to be. In the not quite three years they had spent together, Nathan had allowed him to top just once. He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t looked at Clem during, hadn’t come and had wanted it to be over quickly. For three minutes, Clem had been in total bliss, but the experience had been roundly spoilt by Nathan’s attitude afterwards. Clem hadn’t brought the subject up since before Thanksgiving.

The sky was indigo on the opposite horizon by the time Clem got back into the truck with Wilson and headed up towards the house. He used the towel in the back of the truck and the hose by the wood workshop to wash down his sweaty chest and back before putting his t-shirt back on and heading for the warm scent of dinner. Whatever else people in the city said about ranch hands and farm workers, they ate damn well. Nine of them sat around the big kitchen table to share chicken, pasta and roasted vegetables: it was a nice change from copious quantities of lamb. Wilson nosed around their bare feet, all the boots arrayed along the edge of the porch, looking for dropped scraps that the two young girls were happy to provide. Clem sat at the far end of the table, with the two other ranch hands, Cruz and Malik, on either side of him, facing old man Riley at the other end.

“How is the fence looking?” Riley Junior, the farm’s owner and father to the two little red haired girls enquired between mouthfuls of pasta.

“Needs another half day’s work, but it’ll be done. We should get all the winter fields finished this week in plenty of time for the third cut.”

“See that you do. Weather’s gonna turn at the end of the month. Bring a couple extra guys in for a few shifts to get it all in afore in gets rained on.”

“Yes sir,” Clem nodded tightly.

Like the dog, the ranch hands weren’t allowed any further into the house than the kitchen, so Clem thanked Mrs Riley for the meal and pulled his boots on as he sat on the porch steps. It was there that the older of the two girls, eleven year old Penny, caught up with him.

“Clem!”

“What’s up, pretty girl?”

“Are you gonna go out tonight?”

Clem frowned at her, swishing her summer cotton dress around her knees. Already she was growing up into the sort of pretty that drove all the boys her age a little bit crazy: it was gonna start keeping her daddy up at night fairly soon.

“I don’t know; why?”

“Can you catch me fire bugs again? Down by the river?”

“But you’ll be in bed by the time I get back, sweetheart.” Penny’s face fell, and Clem reached out to touch her silky hair and smiled, “OK then. Go get me the jar.”

Clem had never been able to refuse her anything, so he took the quart Mason jar from Penny and grinned as she waved to him. It wasn’t just the little red haired girl and her sister, because Clem couldn’t ever tell a pretty girl ‘no’ even if his life depended on it. It had made coming out sort of tricky, because though Clem hadn’t ever gotten any farther than making out with only half a handful of the pretty cowgirls in his town, he had always done favours, smiled nicely, and even attended a few posh dinners when other dates had bailed and failed. Clem sure as hell had never felt like sleeping with any girl, not once, but there was something about their softness and curves, and the pretty dresses they wore, which Clem always found hard to resist. He had planned to go back to his rooms, have a long shower and lie naked on the bed, reading through the latest issue of XY magazine which he had delivered under plain covers. But the pages of pretty men, stylish underwear, and articles on new clubs Clem would never visit weren’t going to go anywhere, and there were worse things to do than drive down to the river and catch some fire flies amongst the bulrushes in order to make a pretty girl smile.