Calvin’s Cowboy (19 page)

That got Calvin another kiss. “I’ll always give you kisses, darlin’.”

“Thanks, beautiful. I picked up a few things from Grantley’s, too.”

“Including more beer, I see.” Brock kissed Calvin’s neck.

“Yeah, the old gal almost forced it on me.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, which Calvin couldn’t see as he was still nuzzling the man’s neck.

“It’s that imported stuff you were drinking earlier this week.”

Brock remembered. It was pretty good, much better than the beer he usually bought.

Calvin squirmed at Brock’s continued attentions to his neck. “No one else in town will buy it. I think it’s because they don’t have refined palates like me.”

Brock snorted. More like the locals wouldn’t pay more than they needed to for beer.

“I’ll let you have some later. Don’t want my beautiful construction worker falling off the roof because he’s intoxicated.”

Brock didn’t think one bottle of beer would render him incapable, but Calvin was right. He’d be better off waiting.

“And I hope that’s not the only thing I’ll be getting later.” Brock squeezed Calvin’s ass, making the man yelp in surprise. “Remember, you promised me some of this.” Brock bit Calvin’s ear.

“And I always deliver on my promises, big boy!” Calvin cupped Brock’s hard dick.

Shit, he’d have to go out there and face the guys with another fuckin’ hard on.
Damn Calvin!

But before he could get to the door Calvin stopped him and laid a gentle kiss on his left eye. “For defending my honor you’re now the most beautiful man in,” Calvin had to think for a moment, “have we had North America yet?”

Brock laughed. Shaking his head, he said, “Nope, don’t think so.”

“Okay then, you’re the most beautiful man in North America.” Calvin picked up his sunglasses from the counter and slid them onto Brock’s face. “There, now no one will know you went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.”

* * * *

After Brock paid Pedro and José, Calvin handed a couple of twenties to each man, thanking them for their hard work.

“
Gracias, Señor
,” José told Calvin before getting into the truck.

Pedro shook Calvin’s hand, winked at Brock and then climbed in opposite José and started up the engine.

“He fancy you or something?” Calvin asked when the pickup was turning onto the street.

“Who, Pedro?”

“Yes, Pedro.”

Was Calvin jealous? “He’s got a wife and kids.” Brock wasn’t sure about the latter, but Pedro being a good Catholic, offspring was almost a certainty.

“Huh, that doesn’t prove anything. Look at you.”

“I’d rather look at you, and that sexy ass of yours.”

“Horndog.”

Brock chased Calvin back into the house, along the hallway and into the master bedroom.

“You stink. You’re taking a shower before I touch you.”

“I thought you liked my stink?”

“In moderation, but you still need a shower.”

Brock wondered if it would be better to shower at home. He kicked himself for not bringing a change of clothing with him.

* * * *

Back at his place, the message light was blinking on the answering machine. Brock pressed
play
.

“Dad, it’s me. Kyle’s mom said it’s okay for me to sleep over. She said for you to give her a call this afternoon.”

Brock felt his dick fill at the prospect of being able to spend the night loving his man. He smiled over at Calvin.

Junior continued, “You make sure to say ‘hi’ to Mr. Hamilton from me. And tell him he better treat you right, or I’ll have to have words with him.” Junior laughed and Brock blushed.

“Wow,” Calvin said.

Brock was embarrassed but at the same time kinda proud of his son.

A second message began. “Brockwell, this is Ralph.” Brock started to cringe at hearing from his landlord. “Now your rent is up-to-date I’ve agreed with your friend to begin the repairs you say you need.”

Brock shot a look at Calvin, who gazed steadily back at him.

Ralph’s message continued, Brock only half-listening to how the guy would come out on Wednesday morning to have a look at what needed to be done. The message ended, but Brock and Calvin’s gazes remained locked.

“You said you hadn’t paid him,” Brock said.

“That was true…at the time.”

Brock stared down at the answering machine.

“We agreed you’d let me help you,” Calvin said, putting a hand on Brock’s shoulder. “We also agreed we wouldn’t talk about it until Tuesday.” He rubbed the shoulder.

Brock sighed. Despite their agreement, he was still very uncomfortable with the idea of owing money to his friend…his lover. Turning away from Calvin, Brock trudged into the bathroom and began to strip.

A minute or so later Calvin came into the bathroom. “Thought you could use one of these.” He held up an open bottle of the imported beer. Brock hadn’t realized they’d brought any with them.

“Thanks.” Brock took a long swallow. Wiping his mouth, he saw Calvin close the toilet lid and sit. “I’m sorry.”

Calvin shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Brock turned to the shower and got it going. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Want to join me?” he smiled, letting Calvin know he was okay.

Calvin returned the smile. The two hugged for a time, neither man saying anything, Brock content just to hold and be held by his man.

“I think the water should be hot enough now,” Calvin eventually said into Brock’s ear.

Brock disengaged, stepped into the tub, and held a hand out for Calvin to join him. Calvin undressed quickly and took his hand.

“Oh, wet, naked cowboy, my favorite kind.”

Brock bent and gave Calvin a kiss. The hot water had plastered Calvin’s brown hair to his scalp, making it look darker. His man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, a fact made even more obvious by the water flowing down the taut smooth body. His muscles were just right, perfectly in proportion to his frame. As he continued to wash Calvin, Brock became more convinced his darlin’ was simply perfect.

Brock hated to hurry their shower, but he knew the limits of his water heater, so reluctantly sped up his soaping. Calvin, however, still seemed to want to take his time applying soapy lather to Brock’s various body parts.

They’d finished rinsing and had just resumed kissing when the water began to grow cool. Brock quickly turned the knob and the two of them stood dripping in the bathtub, Brock’s hands reaching out to cup Calvin’s face.

“Brock?” Calvin asked after they’d stood silent for about a minute.

“Just let me look at you,” Brock said.

“I’m nothing special.”

Brock disagreed. “I’ve decided on your new name.”

“Huh?”

Brock let his arms drop to his sides, and then realized he might as well get out and start drying off. He opened a towel and held it out for Calvin to step into.

Kissing the side of Calvin’s wet neck, Brock said, “Michael Knight.”

“What?”

“Your name. Michael Knight. You’ve got the car of course, but it’s more than that.” Brock reached for another towel and started to rub himself dry. Calvin stopped him and took over. “Remember what the motto of that show was? ‘One man can make a difference?’”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’ve made a difference to me.” Brock wanted to confess his love, but couldn’t. If he knew Calvin were staying in town he’d have fallen onto his knees and asked Calvin to move in, marry him, work with him, hell, anything. But Calvin would soon be going back to New York.

“I just did what any guy would do to help someone out.”

Brock shook his head. “You’ve done way more than anyone else ever has.”

Calvin shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t think I look like a Michael. And I certainly don’t look like David Hasselhoff.”

“And I don’t look like Gary Cooper.”

“You do, okay; the hair’s different, but—”

“If not Michael, what about Knighty?”

“Fuck off. You’re not naming me after ladies’ nightwear.”

Brock laughed; he hadn’t thought of it like that. “All right then, you can be ‘My knight.’ You already are,” he whispered.

“I suppose it’s better than ‘Schnucklekins.’”

Brock let out a bark of laughter.

Fists on hips, Calvin said, “But the first mention of shining armor and the name is toast, okay?”

Brock nodded, and then kissed Calvin. “Okay, My Knight has a deal.”

They were done drying each other, so Brock took the towels and hung them on the rail before leading Calvin to his bedroom.

“Though I still don’t know what’s wrong with ‘Calvin,’” Calvin said, getting onto the bed.

“Nothing is wrong with ‘Calvin,’” Brock replied, lying next to his lover. “Nothing at all.”

“You could call me ‘Cal’ if you want. Only one other person, Tim, my business partner, calls me that.”

“Nope, I want a name that’s just mine. I’m not sharing you. Not ever.” Brock immediately wished he hadn’t added that last. Images of the Manhattan skyline started to crowd his mind. Brock stared into Calvin’s face to banish the unwelcome visions.

“Make love to me,” Calvin said softly, causing Brock to shiver.

Although mostly a bottom, Brock knew he’d employ every skill he’d ever learned to bring Calvin pleasure. He started by kissing at Calvin’s neck, and slowly working his way down, detouring to Calvin’s nipples, spending quite some time licking, then softly biting them.

Calvin’s hands weren’t idle. As Brock slowly made his way down to the main prize of Calvin’s hard dick, its owner was stroking Brock’s right arm with feather-light caresses, causing Brock to break out in gooseflesh.

Finally reaching Calvin’s member, Brock thought about bypassing it. He knew if the roles were reversed Calvin would tease out the moment for as long as he could, but Brock was too anxious to wait. Kissing the man’s exposed cock head, Brock rubbed his tongue under the bulb, making Calvin moan his name.

“Gonna love you good, darlin’,” Brock whispered before licking at Calvin’s balls.

Calvin’s legs came up in invitation. Brock went lower, licked at Calvin’s taint, then down into that secret realm, a place Brock guessed few others had been allowed to venture. Brock assumed Calvin was usually a top. He had the take-charge attitude he usually associated with men who preferred the dominant role. Refusing to dwell further on the rare privilege he was being granted for fear of losing his nerve, Brock speared his way passed Calvin’s ring and plunged his tongue in as deep as the tight rosebud would allow.

“Oh, yes!” Calvin squeaked.

Brock smiled; he was doing it right. This was all about making his man feel good.

Sometime later—Brock having loosened Calvin up as much as he could through oral ministrations—he pulled away.

Calvin whined.

“Just need to find a rubber, darlin’.” He hoped there still were some.

Brock took a few seconds to regard his lover—bent legs held in the air, blissful dazed expression on his face. Brock just had to kiss those lips.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Brock said, once he’d pulled back.

Calvin blinked at him. “You never need to apologize for kissing me.”

For that Calvin got another kiss. Then Brock went in search of protection and lube.

“Brock?” Calvin asked when Brock had found what he was looking for.

“Yeah, darlin’?” Maybe ‘My knight’ didn’t quite fit all occasions.

“Would you wear your Stetson?”

Brock was confused. “I often wear it.”

“No, I mean, now. While you make love to me.”

Brock felt his eyebrows rise. “Why?” He immediately realized that was a dumb question. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“And one of your western belts, too.”

“But I’m not wearing pants.”

Calvin snickered. “Don’t need pants. Just need you, your hat and your belt.”

Brock shrugged. “My kinky knight.” Huh
, maybe the name has its uses after all.

Brock went into the hallway, got his Stetson from its hook, and returned to the bedroom, still holding it in his hand. Calvin didn’t have to have the monopoly on kink.

“Why’re you not wearing it?”

“In a minute. Want to pick out a belt first. Wanna help me choose?”

They spent a couple of minutes, Brock holding up various belts, most of which used to be his daddy’s, while Calvin decided.

Lord, my daddy would be turning in his grave if he knew what I was about to do while wearin’ one of his old belts,
Brock told himself.

All through this Brock was surprised to realize his dick remained rock hard. So much so, it was starting to hurt.

“This one?” Brock asked after holding up the eighth—or was it the ninth—belt.

“Yeah, the stones in the buckle match your eyes.”

Jesus
, Brock thought,
trust Calvin to be worryin’ about color coordination at a time like this.

Brock handed the belt to Calvin. “Okay, darlin’, put it on me.”

Calvin did, and took his time doing so. It sure felt weird just wearing a belt.

“Now the hat,” Brock picked up his Stetson and handed it over.

Calvin stood and reverently placed the hat on Brock’s head, taking a few seconds to seat it correctly.

“One last item,” Brock said, picking up the condom wrapper. “Want to do the honors here, too?”

Calvin silently rolled the rubber down Brock’s member.

“You okay, darlin’?” Brock asked. His man was quieter than usual.

Calvin smiled. “Don’t think I’ve ever been more okay.” He kissed the tip of Brock’s latex covered cock.

Given the time it’d taken him to
dress
, Brock decided he should loosen Calvin up again, this time with fingers and lube. Surprisingly Calvin didn’t object to the delay.

The lovemaking—when it finally began—was all Brock hoped it would be. Calvin was tight; Brock kinda liked the idea that few had been where he was now, balls deep in the most wondrous ass in…Brock couldn’t help his snicker.

“What’s funny?” Calvin asked.

“If I’m supposed to be the most beautiful man in whatever it is—”

“North America. And there’s no ‘suppose’ about it.”

Brock shook his head, “Then your ass has to be the tightest, most amazing ass on this continent, too.”