Ladies' Man - 3. Chapter 3

Clem folded his arms on the white wooden slats of the corral and watched the three year old horse trotting happily around on the long lunge line. Nathan stood in the centre of the round pen holding the line, whistling and clicking to the horse as he turned in his own footprints, letting the line play out and allowing the horse to go in larger and larger circles. It was a very pretty creature, a classic dark brown and white appaloosa out of the same mare that had birthed Nathan’s own very best equine friend Cayman, and Clem had no doubts once trained up as a reining horse or a rodeo steed, the gelding would fetch very good money. Clem didn’t know any more, or less, about horses than the average kid who’d grown up on a farm. He’d never had one of his own, but he’d rode from an early age, and he had seen enough horses come and go to tell the gelding in the corral had lovely conformation to go with his pretty markings, and that his paces were even and natural. He would make a great ride.

Once Nathan was happy with the work the young horse had done, he hosed him down and Clem stood on his left side and began to scrape sweat and water from his flanks.

“How’d he look?”

“He’s great,” Clem smiled. “You gonna train him for a roper?”

“Nah,” Clem slapped the horse’s neck and petted him a while, “he’s a girl’s horse; he’ll go for reining and barrels for sure.” There was a snort from behind him, and Clem looked over the geldings back to where Cayman stood in a stall, chewing hay and watching them with one ear angled forwards. “I ain’t forgotten ya, bud.” Nathan turned back to him, “you wanna go for a ride?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll bring Banjo in for you; go find some tack. I think I left another hat around here somewhere: we’d best look the part.”

When they had first started dating, going for a ride in the evenings had been one of the things that had so endeared Nathan to him, and Clem had fallen just as in love with the horses of the ranch as he had with his boyfriend. Not that he could ever tell Nathan he loved him, or even cared about him. He’d tried once, about six months in, and Nathan had stubbornly ignored him. When Clem had repeated the phrase, Nathan had grunted and told him not to be a sissy, then left without another word. Clem hadn’t dared bring it up again since. With the hay coming in, it had been a while since they’d had time to get away: but it was a soft and quiet Wednesday, and no one would be looking for them until the morning.

Banjo was a stocky bay quarter horse with black legs and a velvet muzzle. He instantly snuffled against Clem for treats and sweets, and was disappointed not to find any. Clem took the rope head collar from his boyfriend, and made sure to touch Nathan’s knuckles when he did so. To his surprise, the cowboy jerked away from him quickly, wiped his hands on his jeans, and made his way to his own horse without a backward glance. Clem could tack up efficiently, but Nathan did it all day every day, and so by the time Clem had tightened the cinch his boyfriend was waiting out in the late afternoon sun for him, brows furrowed under his cream felt hat. He dumped the spare straw western on Clem’s head before swinging himself up into the saddle as easily as Clem would turn a sheep off its feet. Clem gripped the saddle horn, and no sooner was he up in the saddle, than Nathan and Cayman were already riding away without him. Banjo trotted to catch up with them.

It wasn’t until they were a fair distance from the buildings of the ranch that Nathan slowed long enough to allow the two horses to walk easily next to each other, and glanced over at his boyfriend. With his shirt open, Nathan looked like a poster-cowboy for the Wild West, but his frown and the hard set of his jaw gave him away.

“Nate?”

“Do you fancy Madison?” Nathan shot an ice blue stare at him.

“What?” Clem blinked, turning his head so quickly Banjo snorted and stopped to find out what his rider had seen. “No!” He clicked to the horse to walk on and regarded his boyfriend warily. “Of course I don’t. I mean… why would you even ask?”

“You seemed pretty damn friendly at the diner last week.” Nathan’s voice held a definite element of a sulk. “An’ she’s hot, for a girl.”

“She just needed a favour,” Clem was slightly worries by the direction of the conversion, “it’s nice to be needed by someone.”

In the golden brown field, Nathan whirled his horse around sharply.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Clem stared across the open space and two sets of equine ears at his boyfriend. There were a lot of things he wanted to say: that Nathan never said he cared about him, he never indulged in the sort of soft and lazy going-nowhere kisses Clem associated with romance, never hugged him hard like he really needed Clem to be strong, even if just for a moment. Every touch and every kiss always felt like a power struggle, and there was never any softness to Nathan. Clem loved his boyfriend’s rock hard abs and strong legs, but it would be nice for once not to have sex seem like it was bordering with having a wrestling match. None of those things he thought would have been welcome.

“Nothing.”

Nathan looked at him levelly for a moment, and then kicked his horse forwards.

“Alright then: race you. Winner gets his own way!”

Clem gathered himself up as Banjo sprang into a canter. Cayman was the fastest horse Clem knew, and Nathan was a much better rider than he was: he always won. And he always got his own way.

*

“Fuckin’ awful day,” Nathan growled as he came in through the front door, kicking it shut behind him. “Get that in the fridge.” He’d brought a six pack of beer, and by the looks of his scowl, he was planning on drinking most of it: Clem was suddenly glad he had a little stock pile of lime sodas. “Pa found Jenny making out with the farriers son; that did not go well for either of them. Worse than when he found me an’ Jimmy making out in the stalls when I was seventeen, jeez… She’s gone and done it now. I ended up replacing base boards in all the stalls in block one: my back hurts like shit.”

“You wanna have a hot shower?” Clem asked gently.

“You sayin’ I smell?” Nathan griped. “You got chips?”

“Doritos?” Clem offered.

“Sure.” Nathan collapsed onto the sofa and kicked off his boots. Clem winced as he heard each one hit the far wall with a dull thud. “I’m so ready for this day to be over.”

It was not necessarily a nice sentiment, but Clem knew how he felt. There were always some days when you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in a big comfy bed, but even when Nathan was there, it wasn’t as though Clem could cuddle up to him feeling all happy and safe. He handed Nathan the last of the beers that had already been in the fridge, then knelt up on the sofa as the big cowboy twisted off the cap and flicked it onto the low table. Clem ran his fingers across Nathan’s tense shoulders and kissed his hair softly. Nathan froze, bottle in mid-air.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Giving my boyfriend a massage?” Clem replied, without sounding quite as confident as he would have liked.

“What the fuck for? I’m not some whiny chick.”

Clem froze.

“It’s a nice thing to do? Your day sounded stressful.”

“And you are starting to sound like some hippie faggot,” Nathan scowled and shrugged his hands away. “Just sit down an’ have a beer.”

“Nate…” Clem stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable in his own house. Nathan’s use of the word was like a slap in the face, and Clem was tired of feeling pushed around.

“Oh don’t start with that again. It’s just a word.” Nathan reached out and grabbed Clem’s wrist, pulling the tall farm hand down onto the couch with him. His kiss was hungry and powerful, and Clem felt overwhelmed by the force of the other man. He groaned against Nathan’s skin and wished he hadn’t. “Well if you don’t wanna beer, I have something else for you to wrap your lips around.”

Clem shut his eyes as he sank to his knees. It used to be that he loved giving blowjobs to the guy he was seeing. There had been people before Nathan, though none of them had been serious or steady. Clem adored wrapping fingers around hips and sucking on his partner’s erection, pinning him against the wall and making him moan and whimper in pleasure: it made him feel like a god. But Nathan wasn’t like that. He had to be in control of every bob and movement, and Clem hadn’t sucked off his boyfriend without the cowboy’s hand hard against the back of his skull since they’d first met. Now was no different, and Clem hated that he was allowing it to happen to him, but still did his best to make it good for Nathan without activating his own gag reflex: apparently his boyfriend though Clem’s throat was a lot deeper than it was.

Nathan finished with a groan and laid back again the sofa cushions, finally relaxing as he panted in post orgasmic bliss. Clem wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, and then ran his fingers up Nathan’s bare thighs. Nathan must have been more worked up than Clem had realised, because it wasn’t until Clem started to squeeze his ass with both hands that Nathan’s blue eyes flashed across at him and he gritted his teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing?” This time the question was full of hard edges and anger.

“I want to have fun too y’know,” Clem shot back.

“Then bring yourself off,” Nathan frowned at him, “get off me.”

“No.” The farm hand glared at his boyfriend, “you have the most fantastic ass Nate…”

“Get off me!” Nathan leapt up, hauling his jeans up around his tumescent cock, “screw this. I’ll drink in my trailer.”

“Nate!” Clem scrambled off the floor, holding onto his boyfriend’s shirt. They kissed again, all teeth and tongues on both sides. “Please babe, I want you.”

“I don’t do that.” Nathan’s eyes were hard like flint, “I’m not a pansy.”

Clem stepped back suddenly, trying to brush Nathan’s hands away from him. Oddly, the cowboy seemed confused by his reaction, and frowned, reaching for Clem as he backed away.

“Then what do you think of me?”

“Clem, that’s different…”

“Is it?”

“Oh get off your fucking high horse!” Nathan grabbed his wrist and yanked hard: Clem grunted as all the breath was knocked out of him. The other man grabbed his jaw to kiss him, and Clem shut his teeth, glaring at his boyfriend. When Nathan grabbed his bicep, he shoved the cowboy away. “If that’s how you want it, fine!”

Clem was prepared for Nathan to turn and walk out; he was even prepared for the big cowboy to shout at him and storm off, slamming the door. He was not ready for Nathan’s fist to set his ears ringing as the punch connected with his temple. He staggered, groaning, and Nathan kicked his feet out from under him. Clem shook his head, trying to pull his vision back into focus, but Nathan was already on him, rough hands shoving at his clothes, tangling him up with his t-shirt pulled up over his head. Clem struggled, but by the time he was able to lift himself up on his palms, Nathan was gripping the back of his neck, and Clem could feel the other man’s weight over his thighs, lifting himself up.

“Nate!”

“Fuck you, Clem.”

“Get off!” Clem twisted, trying to shake him off, but Nathan was in a better position to be in control. The next blow had Clem’s vision skewed again as he slumped back to the floor.

He bit his tongue rather than cry out as the force of Nathan’s hurried and unprepared thrust, and screwed shut his eyes against the tears that threatened to overflow as the man began to pound into his body. Even though it hurt and he didn’t want the invasion, Clem’s own member responded in kind, and Nathan took this as a sign to chuckle, and fuck him even harder. When Nathan’s calloused hand wrapped around his dick, Clem whimpered and came, even though he felt no desire at all, and the cowboy grabbed his hips, pulled his ass into the air and pounded into him mercilessly until he roared in success and ecstasy. Clem didn’t move as Nathan got up and zippered up his jeans.

“Get out of my house.”

“Whatever,” Nathan didn’t seem to care, and Clem couldn’t look at him as the cowboy drained his beer and dropped the bottle onto the floor. He watched it roll away until it came to rest gently against his own tan work boots. “Don’t go calling me when you’re lonely.”

“I won’t,” Clem could feel the tears coming, and he hated that Nathan would see him crying and believe he was less of a man. But the cowboy was already half way out the door. “I hate you.”

Clem didn’t count the minutes that he lay on the hard wooden floor, unable and unwilling to move. His front door wasn’t locked, it rarely was, and he prayed that neither Cruz nor Malik would walk in and see him with his shirt twisted around one wrist, his jeans pulled down around his knees, sticky white come splattered on the floor and leaking down his inner thigh. He cried silently, feeling wretched and pitiful, until his own loathing of his pathetic-ness overtook what Nathan had done to him. Clem got up, stripped out of what remained of his clothes, and threw them directly into the hamper. Feeling sticky and uncomfortable, he went to take a hot shower.

The water soothed even though it stung, and as Clem used the line scents body wash to clean himself much more thoroughly than he might otherwise have done, he was pleased the water was at least hiding his tears. Nathan hadn’t cared how much he’d hurt Clem, emotionally or physically, and the farm hand shivered under the hot water as he replayed the other man’s roughness in his head. Nathan had been keen to show him who was boss, and Clem hated that it had somehow worked. He put on a pair of sweat pants in order to take his laundry to the communal hall and the machine all three of them shared, and then went to bed with damp hair feeling sorry for himself.

His boyfriend had hit him: twice, Clem remembered with a scowl. Sex between them had always felt right on the edge of having a brawl, but Clem couldn’t think about what Nathan had done without hating himself for letting it happen. Nathan had done his best to make sure he’d been the bigger man, and Clem felt much more twisted up inside than he ever had before. He had been so effectively stripped of all his defences, and Nathan had managed to make him feel small and weak in a way he’d never been able to before. Lying in the dark, watching the bright stars through an open crack in the shutters, Clem resolved not to see him again. Nathan was not his boyfriend, he was an ex, and Clem would be damned if he’d let the cowboy see him cry over what had happened. It wasn’t worth it.

Even with his new resolve, Clem felt nervous and shaken in his own body. Knowing he was going to regret it, he went to the fridge and drank one of the beers Nathan had left in a few swift gulps. Then he went back to bed, and didn’t dream.