“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” Troy chuckled softly, casting again. “You remember your first time fishing?”
“A boy doesn’t forget that, does he? My Uncle and my oldest brother, Abner, took me out on the Schuykill River in a boat. Abner was getting ready to graduate high school so I was about ten I guess? I was a fifth wheel for sure, but they set me up with a pole and I had a blast. You?”
“Lord have mercy, I doubt I do remember. The first time I recollect though, I was out with my pappy on his old bass boat, and he was singing.”
It was the first time he remembered Troy saying a single word about his family.
“Were you little? Do you remember what he was singing? Was he the ginger or your mom?” He laughed. “I’ll hold off on the other questions for a minute.”
“My momma was about as redheaded as they come. She was pretty as all get out. And I must have been just little. He was singing I’ll Fly Away.”
“That sounds like a good memory. Doesn’t everyone think their mom is the prettiest ever? I do.” Why did you shave off all that red hair?
“I reckon.”
Listen to that. Suddenly Troy was so Texan it hurt. Was that memory? Pain? Nerves?
“Do you miss them?” There were a bunch of ways he could have asked what he wanted to know, but that one seemed to cover them all.
“Every day.”
He nodded, feeling a little braver about digging deeper. “Are they still alive? Do they know where you are?”
Troy sighed, shoulders hunching as he cast again. “My mother killed herself when my sister passed away. When I left home, my daddy told me to never come back. I did once, and it was a mistake.”
He never quite knew what to do when he opened up a can of worms. Should he watch them wiggle around a while? Slam the lid back on the can? Or pull one out, put it on a hook and go fishing.
“What happened to your sister?”
Oh, good, Saul. Not I’m sorry about your mom, or fuck that guy anyway… no, just go for the gut idiot.
“Leukemia. She was four, I was eight. It was hard and fast.” Troy cast, rhythmically, steadily, totally focused. “I know that it’s a cliché to say it was a blessing, but in this case it was.”
He hadn’t picked up his rod again yet and he just didn’t, moving back to Troy and resting a hand on his boy’s shoulder. “I hear you. But it doesn’t sound like your mom thought so. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you. It was a long, long time ago.”
Still, he couldn’t imagine a little boy losing half his family just like that. And then to lose his dad, and his home, and Arnie… damn.
“So what happened with your dad?” He had Troy talking and his lover hadn’t told him to back off yet.
Troy snorted. “What didn’t happen? He got stuck with queer rodeo trash for a son, and then, when I went home after…”
“After Arnie died?” Saul circled an arm around Troy again. “What happened?”
“He handed me a gun and told me to put it in my mouth and pull the trigger.”
He tightened his grip on his boy protectively. “Jesus, Troy.” Who needed that fucking asshole anyway? He’d ask why his boy even bothered to go home in the first place, but that would be like pouring salt in a wound at this point. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t have shot him instead.”
“I didn’t. I took the gun, though, and I came up here to give Carter Arnie’s buckles.”
“And you just stayed. I remember that part. You’re lucky to have them.” Whatever went on between Carter and Geoff and Troy wasn’t his business and he wasn’t going to ask. Whatever it was probably saved Troy’s life and that was enough for him.
“I am. They’re my family.”
He rested his head against Troy’s and sighed. “Why did you shave your head?”
“There are a lot of answers to that question, but the short answer is I was dared.”
“Geoff?”
“Exceptional guess.”
He laughed. “Well. It really wasn’t that hard. Okay, so he dared you, but why did you keep it?”
“Maybe I looked younger? I don’t know. I don’t have to take care of it, and no one cared that it was gone. It wasn’t like I had someone to mourn it.”
He let his next question rumble in his chest a second before whispering in Troy’s ear. “Would you grow it for me?”
A shudder rocked his boy, that focus going from the past to him so quickly he swore he heard it. “Y-yes. Yes, Sir.”
Fuck if that didn’t make him feel like he’d been filled with rocket fuel. He felt that powerful. Never mind that his cock had turned to granite in his jeans. “Good boy.”
“Can I kiss you, Master? Please?” Troy was doing a good job of needing him.
“Yeah. Yes.” He didn’t wait for Troy, though. He circled around and took the kiss, careful not to get caught up in the fishing rod. Troy stepped close, all the distance between them dissolving.
He couldn’t stop his moan and caught Troy’s face in his hands, sliding their tongues together. The stubble on the lean cheeks tickled his palms, the tiny hairs rasping at his skin.
Every time they kissed, it felt new. He’d just learned something, or they were trying something out together. Sometimes his boy was asking for something, and sometimes he was. Saul hadn’t gotten that familiar feeling yet, that I-know-you feeling. Kissing Troy was always good, but it was still about exploring, about being curious. It was still about offering his boy whatever he had in the moment and seeing what he got back.
Troy held him by his waistband, thumb stroking his erection through his jeans.
Yeah. He wanted that too. He could demand the boy’s mouth if he wanted to, and leave Troy wanting. Sure he could. Or, he could hold out, ride the buzz, and just let his boy salivate.
He chuckled into their kiss and withdrew, then scooped up Troy’s naughty fingers and kissed them. “I’m not biting.”
Troy’s laugh made the camp robber birds fly, the sound winging out into the blue sky.
He smiled and stole one more quick kiss before stepping away. “We’ve got a bright future you and I, let’s see if it includes dinner.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m on it.”
18
“What’s your position on weed, Sir?” Troy had the trout ready to go; all he needed was for the potatoes to cook in their foil.
He found green to be vastly superior to beer. No puking. No hangover. No calories. He tried not to smoke it too much, because it made him crave a Marlboro Light, but sure knew how.
“Favorable. If you have it, you better share it.”
Was Sir grinning at him or levelling an order? This not looking Saul in the eye thing made things tough.
“Good to know.” He could share a couple shotguns. In fact, that thought made him about hard; the idea of passing the smoke between them hot as all get out.
“I’m not hitting you with anything if either of us is high though, boy. Or tying you up.” Saul sauntered over from the tent and kissed his shoulder. “Sex is totally okay though.”
He made a sound that was vaguely like a startled duck. “Shit, sex is totally better than okay, Master.”