Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
The sun had only just started to bleach the horizon as Ennis and Jack fell apart, both slipping back down onto the mats beside each other. Ennis had been rough, much rougher than usual, and that was saying something. "Feels like I've just been split in half," Jack commented, as if reading his thoughts. "Jesus wept." In truth, Ennis had been mindlessly ferocious, at the time sucked into an inexplicable state of possessiveness. It had been their last night... couldn't be called that any more, though, not now the sky was turning a burnt orange outside the tent. "You still with me?" Jack said, his voice rasping and close to Ennis's ear. He had moved closer. Ennis hadn't even noticed. "Where else would I be?" he replied shortly. He sat up and began tugging on his denims. Until Jack caught his wrist, a little too tightly, and stopped him. "Not yet." Slowly, Ennis allowed Jack to draw his hand away, over onto his lap. "Just a bit longer." Why? Ennis almost said it out loud, but stopped himself. Jack was the brooder, no question. But Ennis didn't want to follow him down that road; staying 'just a bit longer' would only make their parting 'just a bit harder', he knew. It always did. But just like always when they were together, since the beginning, he couldn't bring himself to resist Jack. Not when Jack reached up and dragged his fingers through Ennis's hair, pulling him down mercilessly. Especially not when he opened his mouth and found Jack's tongue there, already sliding in to complete the kiss. Not, oh hell no, not when Jack started to buck his hips against him to bruising point until wet heat spread and then cooled on Ennis's thigh. Words unspoken hung stale inside the tent, and when they finally wrenched themselves up and out their breath rolled on the November air like little storm clouds. "It's pushin nine," said Ennis, turning away. "I'd best get back." He went to his horse and thought the beast was nothing like Cigar Butt but perhaps should've been, then petted it anyway. He had to make work for his hands, not sure what to do with them. Then, after a few galloping heartbeats, the path gravel crunched and Jack wound his arms around Ennis's middle, squeezing lightly. It wasn't the same, standing there, like the negative of an old, happier photograph. There would be no tomorrow filled with riding over the mountain, setting up camp then wrecking it with the roll of their bodies and the kick of their legs. Tomorrow, Ennis would be back to work; tomorrow, Jack would be hundreds of miles away. Again. Hazard, Ennis's horse, whinnied quietly and kicked his hooves, throwing up puffs of dust in his wake. Inch by inch, Jack's arms fell away and Ennis sensed him stepping back. "Write me." There was disappointment, unmistakable disappointment in Jack's tone. "Will do," Ennis replied, choked. He listened to the footsteps moving away, heard the swish of a leather strap as reins were pulled from the log they were tied to. The clopping of horseshoes in the dirt. Sounded like distant thunder. Ennis turned, throat constricting, working himself up to shout: Stop! But Jack hadn't gone yet. Hitched on one hip, hat askew, a silhouette framed against the withering trees, Jack watched silently as Ennis came forward, right up against him, sea to shore, and kissed him, fucked his tongue into Jack's mouth like a starving man. Both were breathless when they drew apart, both dizzy and trying not to let the melancholy wash them away. "I'll write you." "Yeah, yeah," Jack said, offering a roguish grin, one of the old smiles Ennis had wanted years ago when they'd first met. "You'd better." Something clicked into place; Ennis wasn't sure what, but it felt good. He straightened Jack's hat, then watched as he mounted, rode down the path. He was already constructing the words in his head, storing them for when the time was right. When he'd write. ~Fin~ |
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