3 comments/ 10073 views/ 8 favorites The Other Boy in Goodwell By: Theroughstockeventauthor Scott didn't care about rodeo. Didn't care about ranching or farming or none of that, neither. He was a freshman, and Dare was a sophomore, and they was both taking this class, this Spanish class, because you had to take a foreign language, and Spanish was easier than French. Well, that's why Dare was taking it, anyhow. Scott just wanted to learn. He wanted to go places, travel. Get out of Oklahoma. As far away as he could get. Dare didn't know that yet, of course. Nineteen. He'd had his birthday over the summer, been back home and all. Mama cooked a special meal, and she made a pie, cause she knew he loved it, and he didn't care about cake. Went out later and got drunk with his White Cross friends in somebody's fallow field. Dryland farming, you got to let the land lie sometimes, when the rains ain't been what they should, and they hadn't. The other boy was tall and dark, like his best friend back home. Like Dare liked them, if he would have admitted it to himself. Like his favorite country singer, Austin Hart. Taller than Dare, which wasn't saying much, him being just five foot ten on a good day. Cut his hair short, and he wore a ball cap, not a cowboy hat. Them canvas sneakers, converse all-stars, instead of boots, but he was a ranch boy alright. Dare could tell. Wore his hat and boots himself, of course. All the time. Didn't have nothing else. Didn't need to, cause he wasn't ashamed of where he came from, who he was. Not that piece of it, at least. Silver cross around his neck, on a silver chain, outside his black t-shirt. Sleeves cut off so you could see his recent barb-wire armband tattoo. Tight jeans and rodeo belt-buckle. Can of chaw in his back left pocket, wallet in the other. Well, they were learning about verbs, "to be," the different ones in Spanish. "Ser" and "estar". Working in pairs, and Scott and Dare got thrown together, like you do. Going down a list of questions in Spanish that you had to answer, "¿Cómo está el clima hoy?", "¿cuál es la fecha de hoy?", like that. Dare's accent was terrible, Scott's better. He was smart. They got to "¿Cómo es tu padre?" meant to trip you up, make you think it was asking after his health rather than his characteristics, but neither boy had gone for it. Both had one-word answers. Dare said, "muerto". Then they looked at each other for the first time, really looked. Scott's eyes were so brown, like chocolate pecan pie. Pretty much Dare's favorite thing ever. "He's dead?" like Dare might have chosen the wrong word. "Yeah." He wasn't offended if the other boy thought he was dumb. He was. "Two years gone." "Sorry to hear it," Scott was sitting across from him. They were at the very end of a long table, far enough from everybody to speak without being overheard. He sounded unsure of what to say, but not like folks usually were, because it was such a sad thing. More like unconvinced he should be sorry, like maybe it wasn't all that bad. "Cain't do nothin' about it," Dare shrugged. "Guess not." He talked like an Oklahoma boy, like Dare, but he was trying not to. Sounded smarter. "Well, what did you put?" changing the subject. Scott said, "ask the question," all bossy. "Fine," and he did, in his horrible Spanish accent, and the other couldn't put it off no more, looked down and muttered, "severo". It was a word they hadn't learned, and Dare asked him, "what's that mean?" Scott said, "he's an asshole," real intense. "I looked it up." "That really what it means?" "Well, not literally." "Oh," Dare looked at him like he still wasn't speaking English. "What's the next thing?" "That's it. We're done." Scott slammed his book shut. Voice all clipped and brittle. They were the first ones finished, and sat in awkward silence for a bit. The class was almost over, but they had to stay until the end of the hour. This had always irked Dare about school. With ranch work, you could move on to the next job as soon as you were through with the last. In the classroom, it seemed like he spent half the time sitting on his hands, idle. Bored out of his mind, and just trying to stay out of trouble. Something he could rarely manage at the best of times. Well, at least he was grown now. In college, and nobody- "What was he like?" Scott broke his train of thought, probably a good thing. Been nothing he needed to dwell on. "Who?" He had a pretty good idea, but didn't want to sound stupid, in case it wasn't what he thought. "Your father. When he was, you know," everybody stumbled over the word. "Before-" Your father? Who said it like that? The boy was trying to talk all fancy, like he was better than he was. Well, Dare had been accused of thinking the same thing. Not because he tried not to talk like a redneck, but still. Rodeo, wanting to even come here, to College and everything. Like he was somebody special. Like they didn't need him more back home. "Daddy? I don't know." He'd never really thought about it. "Just like everybody else, I guess." Scott looked at him hard. His mouth bunched, and it made Dare think about kissing, even though he knew it meant the boy was thinking he's a liar. Well, he wasn't. Just didn't have no words for what it was set his old man apart from other men. Reckoned it was maybe all in his own head, anyhow. "Y'all get along?" There was the high plains twang, alright. It made Dare like him better, even though it was kind of sexy when he tried to talk the other way. Or because it was, and he didn't want to think that about another boy, even if he didn't have no more illusions it could ever be like that with a girl, either. "Sure," he answered, trying to keep it short, but then felt compelled to spill the whole, not-pretty truth like always. "Mostly. I mean, sometimes. When he wasn't having to whup my ass for something." Scott flinched at the word, and Dare added, quickly, "I was a real bad kid," so the boy wouldn't get the wrong idea. "Not me," Scott told him, voice all harsh. "Got plenty of that anyhow, though. My old man hates me." "No, he don't," Dare said, in the kind of tone you use when telling a child who's just fallen down that he's alright. "He does," the other insisted. "Told me so himself, so what the hell do you know, huh?" "Shit." That information shocked Dare to the point of saying something he never usually did, "sorry, man." "Well, fuck him, right?" Scott smiled through the pain, like he knew something about Dare no-one else did, and it didn't bother him a bit. "What're you doing after this?" "Nothin'." Didn't know why he'd said that. Should be getting on with his studying, homework, in the rare couple hours when he didn't have no classes, rodeo, wasn't trying to squeeze in a day or two back home in White Cross for some kind of working. It was technically true, though. There wasn't nothing that he absolutely had to do in the next little bit here. "You comin' with me, then?" All cool, just like nothing was up, and Dare could pretend whenever he wanted that this wasn't what he known it was. Something he'd never done before. But he said, "alright," and looked the boy up and down real slow. He was skinny, didn't hardly have no muscle on him. Dare could've beat the shit out of him with one hand, the left one, but he had some balls, anyhow. Just stood up and gathered his things and walked away, not looking back, and Dare followed him, too. Like a calf going after his mama. That cross brushing his chest, swinging side to side because he walked with a swagger. Scott had a single room, took him back there. Nobody around, cause it was the middle of the afternoon. He locked the door and started getting undressed right away. Dare just standing and watching, jaw dropped like a dumb hick. When he was totally bare-ass, the boy looked at him and grinned, said, "how am I s'posed to suck your dick if you're gonna leave all them clothes on?" His own hard against his belly, looking so big compared to his thin body, but with him naked Dare could see the boy had some wiry muscles after all. Standing out under his naked skin, and Scott just waiting. Not trying to hide a thing from him. Dare wanted it, too. Real bad, too bad to turn and go now, but he was afraid to strip in front of this boy. Dumb, because he'd been in all kinds of locker rooms in high school. Skinny-dipping and all, too. That was back home, though, and they knew about him there. Well, Scott was an Oklahoma boy alright, and he curled his lip, taunted, "what are you scared of, Daredevil?" calling him the nickname that had somehow followed him from White Cross, that he hated. "I ain't scared," and he started with his shirt, just shucking it off his head and his arms in one move. Turning it inside-out and throwing it on the floor with Scott's. The necklace snagging, then popping clear and bouncing off his chest. Light and sharp. Dare unbuckled, and drew down the zip. Stopped, and sat down on the single bed. It had a blue and white plaid comforter drawn over it, and the mattress was real firm. Didn't sink much under him, even though he was heavy, built. Spent a lot of time at the gym at night, when he couldn't sleep, and it showed. He took his boots off, slower than he could have, because he needed time to think about how he was gonna play this. Scott standing there and watching with his fist on his hip, lifted like a girl's, but he sure as shit didn't look like one. Not with all that dark hair on him. That flat, sinewy chest and belly and them hard, long legs. He turned and walked to the door, and his ass looked so good, it wasn't fair at all. Just high and round and pretty as anything, and he turned with his hand on the knob and said, "if you don't want none, you can just get out," and Dare sure wasn't going noplace. "You know I ain't," he said, not loud, but like he meant it. "Just, look, man, just don't freak out, ok, when I-" "Seen one before," Scotty smirked at him. "This ain't my first rodeo, boy." Like he known it was Dare's. "No, not that-" Dare knew he was blushing. Always happened to him real easy. "I got some scars, huh? So don't be saying nothing stupid, that's all." "Alright." The boy's tone went almost gentle then. "Like I care, anyhow." But he came back over, and he put his hand in Dare's and guided him to his feet. Undid the button on his jeans and pushed them down, and Dare was hard, too. For sure. Scotty said, all breathless, "I don't see no-" and Dare shook off his hand, kind of mad and impatient to get it over with, turned his back and skinned the britches right off, and he seen them then alright. Just said, "oh," the teasing and all gone from his voice now. Dare felt ashamed, and thought, I was a real bad kid, so. Told you, didn't I? He'd promised not to say nothing stupid, though, and Scotty hadn't lied. He asked, softly, "can I touch them?" and Dare said, "alright." So the boy did. Touched him real soft, with his long, slim fingers. Just one at first, the right index finger, and he ran it back and forth across Dare's ass, tracing those ugly bands of bulging, knotted skin. Then cupped his whole hand around, slid the left one over the other side, and rubbed down to his thighs. Back up. Callouses on his palms and fingers like all the ranch kids had. Dare couldn't move at all, couldn't believe this was happening, but he was letting it. Like in a dream, where you just can't help yourself. Then the boy's touch was slipping around front, him standing so close behind Dare he could feel Scott's hard-on brushing the places where his finger was a minute ago, that hand closing around Dare's cock like it was his own. Jacking it a little, and he still didn't try to stop this, knowing it was wrong and all, just let his head go back some and kept silent. Scott wouldn't stand the silence, though, and he demanded, "how does that feel, Dare?" "Good," Dare told him, voice catching some, but he said it again. "Real good." "Yeah, it does." The boy was so sure. Knew what he was doing, alright. Not a bit shy. "Show you something else, too." And he turned Dare loose, pushed him down on the bed, but this time he didn't stop 'til Dare was laying on his back. He could have stopped Scott any time. Of course he could, and he had to admit to himself that he didn't want to. The silver necklace hanging to the side. And that boy got down with his head between Dare's thighs, body rubbing his on the way, too, and put his mouth tight around his cock and started sucking it, like one of them girls in a porno would. Dare ground out, "shit fire," all low and reverent. Couldn't believe how good that felt, something he'd tried so hard to not even think about, ever, but it was happening now. Boy, was it. Scott laughed around his prick, and it felt nice, like riding a motorcycle. The way the engine hums and you can feel it through your pants, kind of tickling. Then Scott was swallowing him down, actually taking his piece right down his throat. A thing that shouldn't even be physically possible. He never really believed it when guys bragged that their girlfriends could. Kind of reckoned it was fake when you saw it in a movie, yeah, he was that innocent. Nineteen, and he'd never even kissed a girl, let alone done nothing more. Something like this, though. Shit. Some first time. Probably lasted all of eight seconds, too. That boy's throat was so tight, kept squeezing even harder when he swallowed. Lips going up and down a little bit, and there was some friction where his beard and mustache was coming in, five o'clock shadow like fine-grit sandpaper. Scott didn't pull off when Dare shot a load in his mouth, neither. Not right away, and when he did, he wasn't spitting it out. Wiped his lips on the back of his hand, said, "you taste good." Dare was still out his mind with the come, and he asked, "oh, yeah? How's that?" like it was a normal question. "You really wanna know?" "Sure I do," not about to take it back now, too proud by a country mile for that, so when the boy scootched up and kissed him on the mouth, he opened up for it and let Scott spread the residue of his own come from his tongue onto Dare's. It tasted good, too. Salty and bitter and meaty, like greens with vinegar and bacon-rind. The kiss felt real nice and he didn't stop. Liked how firm and soft Scott's lips were against his, liked their tongues sliding around each other. Liked it when Scott shut his mouth over his and sucked. Pulled Dare's bottom lip into his mouth and bit down, gentle, but still stinging just a tiny bit. Mighty fine. He was rubbing all up on Dare, too, his prick still hard as fuck, and Dare wanted to do something for him, but those hands were tight on his shoulders, Scott's body holding him down. Couldn't move, and his mouth was too full of the other boy's tongue and lips to say so. His hands and arms was free, though, and he realized he could touch Scott if he wanted to, put his hands wherever he liked, and that boy most probably wouldn't care a bit. So he did, shyly at first, he run his hands right down the other's back, over shoulder-blades so prominent and sharp they felt like the start of wings. The kind little birds have before their feathers come in, and Dare wondered, absurdly, if it was the same for angels. Then his fingers on the spine like a fence-post, all straight and level and jagged with vertebra like the studs you string barbed wire through. Palms grazing Scott's ribcage, and it felt too close to the surface of his skin. Insufficient protection, really, for the boy's already-damaged insides. Forgot all that real quick when he made it down to that butt, though. Fit right in his grasp, a perfect double-handful, like it'd been made for him to hold. Dare squeezed, and Scott didn't push away or ask what the fuck was wrong with him, far from it. He made a little sound in his throat, instead, muffled by the kiss, lifted into Dare's touch and ground his hips down again, even harder. Dick so hot and smooth, crushed up between their bellies. The boy didn't stop until his prick was fluttering against Dare's body, Scott moaning real soft, and everything got slick and hot and wet down there. Pulled his head back and looked into Dare's eyes for just a second, his just about all black right now, then rolled smoothly off him and onto his feet. Crossed the room, silently, and Dare watched him until he disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door. A second later he heard the toilet flush, then the shower start up. Dare sat up, swung his legs down and just stayed there, on the edge of Scott's hard, narrow bed. Shit. He should go, not look back, avoid the other boy next time he seen him, but Dare couldn't move. Told himself he'd wait 'til Scott came back, tell him they had to keep this quiet. Tell him it couldn't happen again, not ever, that it'd been wrong and a sin and- the shower cut off in the next room. Then the boy was in front of him again, looking taller and skinnier than he had ten minutes before, his dark hair damp and wild. Sticking to his face in some places and standing straight up in others. The Other Boy in Goodwell Pt. 01.5 As soon as he came all over the cowboy's warm washboard belly, Scott's good sense returned to rip him a new one. The last thing he needed was to get involved with some closeted, macho asshole. That was the old Scott, the one he was bound to leave behind in Stillwater, who let his dick do the thinking when confronted with a pretty face. He was losing the accent, losing the stupidity. He was losing the reputation and the memories. Scott stood in the shower, face right under the spray, like the hot water could drive the lingering vision of those blue eyes out of his. Wash it away and drag it down the drain in a whirlpool of soapsuds, with a grating whine as air got dragged along into the vortex. He'd thought for a second there'd been something in the way the other had looked at him that was unlike the ones Scott was trying to forget. Not contempt, like the ranch hands and field workers back home who let him suck their cocks, then told him to get lost, already hating him for personifying their own untenable desires. It wasn't pity, either. That would have brought back stolen weekend overnights in the big city, and the looks on the faces of the one-night stands who picked him up at the bars down there when they realized how young he actually was. The other boy had looked at him, though. Seen him, and that alone set him apart from the handful of kids at school who took Scott under the bleachers or into a bathroom stall and told him, without meeting his eyes, that they knew he wanted to. So just go ahead. Or acted surprised when he went down on his knees, but certainly didn't try to stop him. When he got too close to saying the name to himself, Scott's mind threw up a steel wall so high you couldn't see the top. It hurt too bad to think about the only lover who'd been good to him. Who, for a little while, had been his friend. Anyway, this one was nothing like that. Everything about Darryl Evans screamed "not a fag", from his worn-in boots to the silver cross around his neck, and Scott wouldn't have been at all surprised to find out he was the only one who'd ever made the man. He'd always had the knack of it, or maybe it was something about him that others responded to, like even the most heavily in denial couldn't help taking a second look. He wasn't proud of it. Who wanted to be the one everybody knew was easy, even if they hadn't heard the rumors. It was no blessing, this thing about him that broadcast his ease, hanging around him like a perfume so subtle you weren't aware you smelled it. Lighting him up like he was standing under a neon sign so hard worn it was almost burned out. He hadn't thought it was a curse, though, not when that damn good looking boy followed him out of class as soon as Scott raised his finger. He'd been pleased enough with his ability to command the other boy's desire as long as his own dick was hard. And his heart felt so empty. It was always empty, though, and that was the way Scott preferred it. He'd learned the hard way that having something to lose left a person vulnerable to the loss of more than he even knew he had at stake. Caring about another boy that once had cost him more than the relationship when it ended; he'd lost any chance of things turning out all right at home. Not that there'd been much of one. But something bigger was gone too. Something that felt like the ground under his feet had been snatched away, and now he was floating, too susceptible to the smallest breeze knocking him off course. Scott was sure Dare would be long gone when he came back after the shower. He was the type to cut and run, for sure. Maybe throw a punch or a slur Scott's way the next time their paths crossed, especially if his friends were around to appreciate the proof that Dare was just like them. All man and straight, straight, straight. A test Scott had failed before he knew what any of it meant. So when he slammed out into his room, damp and naked and furious with himself, and the boy was still sitting on his bed, also naked and still covered in Scott's spunk, looking like he didn't have a thought in his blond head, all the bitterness and anger crowded his chest and fought its way into his throat, making him speak before he thought. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Scott bit off, and he could have sworn a deep hurt crossed Dare's sickeningly handsome face for just a heartbeat, before those blue eyes emptied and the boy's expression shut down again. Back to that achingly familiar default glare. He started to say, "look, I," and Scott cut him off, too furious to listen to whatever it was. "Here." He tossed the damp towel in his hand at Dare instead, enraged further by his clumsiness when it went wide, as well as the other's easy grace when he thoughtlessly reached out and caught it. "Clean up and get out, for christ's sakes. You got what you came for." Scott wouldn't look at him, and the boy cut his eyes away. Scrubbed his hard body with the threadbare piece of terrycloth, and the shame in his posture caused a knot of toxic satisfaction in Scott's chest that both warmed and poisoned him. Dare turned to dress, bent at the hips to pick up the stupid faded Levis he wore every other day, presumably while his only other pair were in the wash, like he had to do laundry every other goddamn day. Ironed them too, probably even ironed the white briefs under that his mother had no doubt bought. Scott shouted the disparagements at himself as loud as he could, but it hardly slowed his own body's reaction, dick trying to get stiff again already at the sight of the boy's cut ass. His tightly muscled legs with that corona of light gold hair. When he was dressed again, he stepped up to Scott, who hated the way he tensed like a spooked rabbit, drawn straight up, perfectly still but poised for flight. Like he was scared Dare might hurt him now, which of course he was, but showing it was death. So he put on a sneer, made himself relax his body. And the other boy just handed him back the towel, carefully folded so Scott wouldn't have to touch the dirty part. Said, "look, man, can't nobody know," all in a rush, like Scott might not already be aware that he was a dirty secret. Like it wasn't the story of his goddamn life, a cum-stain wrapped up out of sight. "No shit, can't nobody know, you dumb fucking hick," Scott flung back, slashing at him with the words. "Learned that the goddamn hard way, thank you very much." And waited for the raised fist. The command to shut up. The last thing he expected was for Dare to laugh, and he did a swear-to-god double take when it happened, he was so disarmed. He just laughed like Scott was teasing and he didn't mind because he was in on the joke, said, "alright then," like they weren't talking about something that could get you killed. Effortlessly robbing Scott of his power to strike first, to wound. That pissed him off even more, and he spat, "just get the hell out." But it didn't do him a bit of good, because Dare just flipped his brown felt cowboy hat in the air so he was holding it by the crown, set it on his head like he thought he was Indiana fucking Jones, said "well, so long," and smiled at Scott as he gently shut the door. Leaving him with the beginnings of a hard-on worse than the one that had driven him to make the mistake he was so disgusted with himself for now. Leaving him wanting nothing more than to chase after the damn cowboy and do it all over again. Harder and longer and deeper this time. The Other Boy in Goodwell Pt. 02 Dare got all the way back to his dorm before the enormity of his mistake confronted him like an angry woman, slapping the dumb smile right off his face. Sure, he'd known it was wrong and all, that they had to keep it quiet, but the truth was it'd felt so good, and he'd been thinking about Scott, and feeling all kinds of ways he never done before, and. Anyhow, he didn't get around to realizing what a real bad thing he'd done, what an egregious sin, till he unlocked his door and saw all the detritus of his regular life. There was his desk, the pressboard one that came with the room, and when he set his books down on it the Bible he kept there slid out of the way. Black leather cover with the gold embossed letters reproaching him with its grave, ascetic face like a fire-and-brimstone preacher's. The bed he'd made so carefully that morning, sheets tucked in tight. Hospital corners, like mama'd taught him, and the blanket folded perfectly smooth. It'd been blameless enough when he left. Only defiled by touching himself once or twice, when his roommate was gone and he succumbed to weakness. A few times, too, that his traitor body gave way in a dream and he woke up dirty and ashamed. Not long ago, either scenario would've meant a whipping for Dare if he'd been caught, and he'd not have thought it undeserved. What he'd done now, though. Shit. About the most wrong thing a man could do. One that carried a sentence of death, according to the Bible, and made fire rain from the sky. That ensured he'd be condemned to suffer all the torments of Hell he'd heard vividly described so many times, growing up. And if it came to be known, what then? He sure wouldn't be welcome on the Rodeo Team, and even if he didn't lose his scholarship, the result would be the same. He'd have to leave school, but going home would most likely not be an option, either. Ranch work was about all he knew, but no way he'd get a job on some other place once word got out he was like that. Dare got down on his knees and prayed some, or tried anyhow, but his thoughts kept breaking up and turning into a wordless crackling hiss, like a truck radio losing its signal out on the back forty. Knew he ought to repent, but words like "sorry ain't good enough," kept breaking in. And anyhow, he didn't exactly regret what'd happened, even if he really wished it hadn't. Couldn't honestly say he'd do nothing different if he got the chance to go back in time and change the way everything had fallen out with Scott. Hadn't he prayed over and over to not feel this way, since puberty, since before that? Since forever. No divine intervention for him, though. And thinking about it was near as bad as the doing, anyhow. He wasn't no worse than he'd been before, not really. Just now there was no pretending to himself things could be some other way than exactly how they were. Finally, Dare reached up and snatched the silver cross off him, that tiny chain biting sharply into the back of his neck before the clasp broke and the whole thing fell slack across his hand. Dare opened the desk and dropped his necklace to puddle inside, shoved the Bible in next to it, and slammed the drawer shut. Changed his clothes, put the ones from that day in the bag with the previous day's, and went down to the laundry room to start the machine before he left for the gym. He stacked the weights on deep, adding reps until he couldn't lift his arms an inch, then switched to leg work. Telling himself, "you need this, boy. Dry up, dry up, it ain't supposed to feel good." Back and forth like that, sweating buckets, making it hurt. Thinking, "you know you need this, Darryl, take it like a man." The litany of punishment. Alone in the shower, after, he wanted to scream, cry, punch the wall until his fingers broke. He wanted to go find Scott and make sure he was alright. That nobody'd found out about them in the last couple of hours and done to that boy what Dare knew they did to queers. Then he'd wrap his arms around the other's chest, right where his heartbeat was, and hold him close, standing behind. His face cuddled into Scott's smooth neck. That'd put his crotch right up on the boy's firm ass, where it curved down to meet his thighs... When his dick started trying to get hard, Dare wrenched the tap all the way around to cold, but the chilly bullets pounding his skin just stirred the blood more, so now he was freezing and exhausted and painfully aroused. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In class, the other boy wouldn't look at Dare, much less return his awkward, "hey, man." Like he wasn't even there, and it pissed him off. Because here he was, ready to forgive Scott for tempting him to sin; shit, he'd about made his mind up to let it happen again if the boy was asking, and now this. Just nothing. Well, that was fine. Dare was better off without him anyhow. So how come his chest ached like it did? Didn't want to look too close at that. Dare was coming off rodeo team practice, had kind of been messing around, doing some saddle-bronc riding, even though it wasn't his event. Just laughing and yelling with the other boys, "watch this, y'all," like that, "show your slow ass how to do it." He forgot about everything else when he rode. His left arm, held straight and taut, ached sweetly. Attraction and desire, loss and fear of losing all faded in the face of the moment's urgency, the way his abdominal muscles burned, stretched and tightened as his body moved to compensate each time the horse jack-knifed and skidded. Bucked. And his legs, split wide by the saddle, rubbed hot. His thoughts, as far as they formed words, went, "stay on, stay on, stay on," while instincts too quick and innate for speech prompted him to shift his weight, dig in his heels. So caught up he didn't hear the buzzer, and awareness returned slowly to his friends' hollering, "time's up, dumbass," and "give that poor bitch a rest, Dare." Dare vaulted off, a flawless moving dismount. His signature move, perfected by necessity when he was a kid sneaking rides on the stock back home. No chute, no hands to help him on. No rope but the one he used to catch the steer, and sure as shit no bullfighters to take care of things once the ride was done. One wrong move and he'd've been killed, or worse, got caught. He'd wanted to be a rodeo cowboy since before he could remember, but the real thing felt like cheating after the way he'd started out. "Love ridin' that bronc so much, why don'tch'ya marry her, Dare?" The other boys crowded around him, pushing each other and teasing him. Normally he wouldn't mind, but Dare suddenly wished for the solitude of a wide open field. He pushed impatiently through the cluster of dust-smudged boys in chaps and hats. The horse following him, docile now that the game was over, gently tugging his shoulder with her whiskery lips. Tickling his neck. Left behind their rowdy shouts, like, "time for the honeymoon," leading her away until he could hear just the ringing of his spurs. Into the barn, huge and institutional with high ceilings and concrete floors, but smelling like they all did of sweet hay, sawdust and horses. He finished rubbing her down, put the tack away. Taking a minute to straighten up the saddles, straps, bridles and brushes whoever last used the room had left all over the place. When he stepped outside, the sun was going down, painting little clouds a glowering copper all across the tremendous horizon. The sky bleeding out its color, turning pale. Dare reached for his can of wintergreen chaw, replaced in his back right pocket as soon as his boots hit the ground, and he was packing a lip, about spit it right out, cause that was when he saw Scott. The boy was standing by the door, in the shadow, and he looked like a pen-and-ink sketch on the cement wall. Just the long outline of his harshly angled body, features a suggestion in black and white. Some movement of his must have caught Dare's attention without him knowing it, or the primitive awareness of being watched, and he stiffened, wheeled. "What the fuck, Scott?" His mouth was numb and plugged up with tobacco, and he spit dark juice on the ground. Scott said, "that shit is nasty, Dare," in a flat voice he couldn't interpret. "The fuck you care." He was furious at the way his heart lifted with the sound of Scott's voice scolding him. "What do you want, anyhow?" "Wanted to see you ride, cowboy," Scott drew out the last word. Sounded mocking, so how come Dare's cock was pushing painfully against his tight jeans? "You're pretty good." "Ought to see me on the bulls." Couldn't pass up the chance to brag. "Saddle bronc's a cakewalk, tell you what." "Is that right?" Scott's voice sounded strained, his accent creeping in some. "Sure enough." "Show me." Dare's face felt hot suddenly, even though it was fall and coming on to dark, and not a bit warm out. He said, "I cain't... it's too..." and Scott cut him off. Snapped, "don't be stupid Dare." "How come you're such an asshole, Scott?" did all queers go this harsh about their courting? He'd never heard anything like that, but didn't exactly fit most of the popular characterization of a fag himself. And didn't the things he'd done with Scott, the ones he was suggesting now, that Dare wanted, if he was being honest, didn't that mean he was? So what was he supposed to think? Scott didn't have no answers for him, though. He just bit off "shut up," sounding all you-got-it-comin'-now-boy, and Dare felt a sick rush of excitement, fear and arousal. Like that kind of talk had always commanded from him, no matter who was laying it down. He shut up, wouldn't have known what to say anyhow, and Scott closed the distance between them. Put his hand between Dare's thighs and squeezed tight, and knowing that Scott could feel how hard he was, how easily mastered, shamed him. His jeans were pinching at the inner thighs, now, all stretched at the crotch like they were. The last smears of orange dissolved overhead, and the sky deepened, royal blue toward black, then parted like hundreds of eyes opening as the stars broke into view. Scott turned loose of Dare, spinning him by the hip so he half faced away. Nebulous, urgent need beating hard in him now. Scott said, "spit that shit out and let's go," and he did. Following the other boy so close he could smell musky, spiced cologne and fresh, faint sweat. But when they were alone in that half-lit room, and Dare unthinkingly put his mouth on Scott's, the boy pushed him back and said, "tastes like ass." "What do you want, Scott?" Dare ground out, low. He felt like hitting something. "What do you want, Dare?" The boy tossed back at him. "Fuck if I know." He raised his hands, let them fall loose to slap his thighs hard. Leather stinging his palms, grounding him a little. Scott reached out and started slowly working the strap out of the buckle on Dare's chaps. Growled, "reckon you do." "I guess so," Dare forced out. He'd held back all week, tried to deny or forget ever wanting this boy, this thing between them. Suddenly felt like he couldn't take another second of waiting, and reached for the buckle himself, wanting to hurry things along, but Scotty wasn't having it. He smacked Dare's hands away with a violence that made his cock jump a little, that ramped up the arousal and needing. Dragged a soft groan from Dare's throat, when he'd promised himself he wouldn't make a sound. Scott finally got the chaps undone, let them fall around Dare's boots. Stopped him with a bruising grip on his forearm when Dare tried, automatically, to pick them up. Undressed him the rest of the way just as slow and messy, and Dare was shaking by the time he was finally naked. Standing there in front of Scott, his hat and clothes and boots all lying where the boy had dropped them. One thing feeling almost as wrong as the other. "Take mine off, Dare," Scott told him, and Dare had to pry his fists open to do it. His hard-on kept getting in the way. Leaking all over the place, and neither one had even touched it since Scott groped him out by the barn. Coarse, dark hair spilled down Scott's belly, visible when Dare pulled the boy's long-sleeve black tee-shirt up. His hands felt clumsy as he brought it over Scott's head, the collar catching on his chin and nose. Scott lifted his arms, and Dare had to stand up on his tiptoes to get the sleeves all the way off. The shirt ended up inside out, and now you couldn't see that the front had pictures of flames and waves and music notes lined up across it like letters in a word. He could see Scott's small-boned chest, though. And see that the nipples were standing out on his lean pectorals like scrunched up little balls. Reminded Dare of Indian bead-work on a leather belt, and when he reached out and touched one with the back of his fingers, Scott breathed out hard. His dark jeans fit so tight that they bound at the thighs when Dare tried to push them down from Scott's waist, and he had to work them off slow, from the ankles. About took forever, and Dare knew what he was missing now, too. Wasn't the only one going out his mind, neither, cause that other boy sucked air through his teeth, loud, as Dare slid his hand up to brush Scott's dick where it stood hard against his waist. So hot it like to burned Dare, and Scott muttered, "oh, shit." They were cut the same, so much skin taken off it pulled too tight. Hurt to get as hard as they both were now. The scars looked real bright under their dick heads when the shafts flushed this dark red with wanting. Scott put his hand over Dare's, laced their fingers together, and lifted joined hands to capture both their cocks, squeeze them together. The tip of his nudging Dare's belly, Dare's cock head brushing Scott's balls. Jacked them off like that, gently, dry. Dare grit his teeth. It was almost too much, Scott's silky length pressed over his, the rope- and rein- callouses on his own palm and fingers scratching elsewhere. He couldn't swallow a little groan, and the other boy turned loose of him, said, "let me get something." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scott brought out the condoms and the lube from his desk drawer. No chance this rough-broke cowboy knew the first goddamn thing about how to fuck, but Scott inferred from the way he rode a horse that Dare might have potential. He'd have to do his own prep, though, that was for sure. Should have done the whole damn thing for himself, and kept away from a situation that was bound to end in trouble. And he'd tried. All week, he'd avoided Dare, ignored his mumbled greetings in class. Scott had buried himself in his campus bookstore job, his schoolwork. Gone for long bike rides alone, to nowhere, trying to clear his head. But now he caught Dare's eye, sat back on the bed and spread his own thighs. Pulled his left knee up to his chest while the cowboy watched, blue eyes open wide as they'd go. His lips were parted, softer than Scott had ever seen them. The usually twitchy muscles around his mouth now still. Scott slicked his middle and index fingers, arched his back, and slid them deftly between his ass-cheeks. Watching the other watch him, and waiting for an epiphany: rejection or lust. Rage or desire. Disgust or attraction. It frightened Scott that he cared so much about Dare's response. Frightened him that he'd let the girls from work to drag him out to watch the rodeo team practice, just to see the one cowboy he couldn't stop thinking about. And so did the impulse that caused him to slip away and follow Dare when it was over. This wasn't just a whatever fuck. He didn't know what it was. Only one way to find out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dare watched, stunned, as Scott's fingers disappeared inside his body, and his legs and arms twisted around to hold himself open. He parted smoothly, pale flesh giving just a little where he pressed with a hand or a wrist. The boy's dark eyes bored into him like an awl bites into leather, piercing a new notch on a bridle strap. Binding and challenging him, both. Dare put a hand on his own dick, flinched right off and let go like it'd bit him. A harshly conditioned response he couldn't help, but Scott sounded impatient when he said, "touch it." Like Dare was the one misbehaving, and just then stopping felt wrong, so he did like the boy told him. Not willing to admit he was scared of a little thing like jerking off in the face of Scott's sex-charged doings on the bed. The boy's first two fingers were buried far as they'd go now, and he started working them in and out, picking up speed, and making little sounds in his throat, like whimpers Dare could hardly hear. His cock and balls riding gently up and down when Scott twitched his hips with each stroke. "Should be alright now," he said. "Come on, let's fuck." "I don't know how," Dare confessed. But he wanted to, so he got up close enough to touch Scott. Close enough to see that pink band of muscle stretching so wide around the boy's fanned-out fingers. Scott said, "nothing to it," and snatched his hand free. Making the same noise, the same soft, wet pop, that you'd get from lips parting after a kiss. Dare had never seen an unwrapped condom, just boxes on a drugstore shelf, but Scotty tore one open and rolled it right onto his prick for him, easy as could be. Felt clammy and too tight, but he was glad for the tamping down of sensation that came with it, dimly aware that he ought to try and last if he was gonna make this any good for Scott. And not wanting it to be over too quick, anyhow, on his own account. That boy always known what to do, and now he bridged his hips to stuff a pillow under, raising his ass to the perfect angle for meeting Dare's cock. Thighs wide, heels pressed into the edge of the mattress. "Slick it up with this." Scott handed him the bottle, rapped out, "more," when Dare awkwardly squeezed out a little and rubbed it over his latex- wrapped dick meat. Must have finally gotten enough on there, because Scotty wrapped his legs around Dare's waist, feet resting right over his ass, and pulled him in so that his cock nudged the boy's slightly yielding split. His hard calves dug in like like a pair of steel tow-cables, stronger than Dare had guessed. Scott reached under to spread himself, and Dare felt his dick slide between the boy's glutes to mash against his opening. Dare drove his hips forward without knowing he was going to, guiding the direction of the thrust with a hand around his shaft. The other boy whimpered a little, and maybe it felt good or maybe it was hurting him, but Dare was holding on with just a rope now, and there wasn't no pulling back. He felt Scott's hole twitch under him, dilating and pushing out, both, and Dare ground down again, rolling the muscles in his belly to push harder without letting up a bit. Sure it wasn't gonna fit, but Scott lifted up to meet him, and the crown of his cock-head burst through that band of tight resistance, and the boy was dragging him hungrily inside. Then it was easy, feeling when to reverse a little so he could put on some speed, when to drive deeper. The heat of Scott's insides blew Dare away, and how that boy hugged his cock, like he never wanted to let go. Scott hollered "oh, shit!", and startled under him like a fly-bit horse. "You're hitting my spot, Dare. Oh, fuck," his voice gone all hoarse and breathless. He turned loose of his own ass, leaving just Dare's cock to spread him, and started jerking himself off. Dare slid his hands down, where Scott's had been, so he could lift the boy into it every time he snapped his hips forward. Scott was shuddering around Dare's cock every time he drove it home, stroking his own in sync with the fucking so that he was gripping the head whenever Dare bottomed out. The Other Boy in Goodwell Pt. 02 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Whenever Dare bottomed out, his sac tapped Scott's like the balls in a Newton's cradle. He was already starting to falter in his rhythm, careening out of control towards climax like the clueless virgin that he was. Which was a goddamn shame, because Scott had been dead right about Dare being a natural. His entry had been rough, alright, stretching Scott too fast in spite of the trouble he'd taken to ease the way himself. He'd be feeling that burn tomorrow for sure. But once he was in the saddle, the boy could fuckin' work it, no lie. Right now he was stuttering, "Scott, I," unable to form a coherent sentence, "gonna nut, gonna bust." Scott rubbed his own cock faster. Wished it could last, but he wasn't about to let Dare go ahead and cum without him, and he'd been close since before they started. Just had some goddamn self-control, was all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dare's balls cinched up and his dick smarted, the cum hotter than blood when it shot and shot and shot inside that other boy's sweetly gripping chute. Felt like his whole body was shivering from it, and after, there was still a light inside him. Seconds later, Scotty spasmed around him and yelled out a wordless growling cry, then Dare felt wet heat streak his belly and chest. The boy groaned softly, trembling a little. "You alright, Scott?" Dare asked. "Yeah," he sat up and carefully disengaged Dare from between his legs. Worked the condom off his still mostly-hard cock and tied a knot in it. "Think maybe you could go longer than five minutes next time?" Dare laughed, "maybe." Longer than five minutes, but he known it'd still been over way too quick. Didn't want to try and explain to Scott that orgasms had always been a race against the clock for him. Growing up, he'd been allowed only ten minutes in the shower, to discourage sinful activity, and he'd learned to make it happen fast so that he'd still have time for washing. Maybe he understood, though, because Scott said, "I know some things we can try," almost kindly, and Dare said, "I bet you do."