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When he was completely naked, Smoke stroked himself lazily. “You look like a scaredy-cat ironed up against the door like that.”

“Show you who’s a scaredy-cat.” Forgetting the jeans bunched around his ankles, Trey took a step forward and almost face-planted on the carpet. He lumbered around awkwardly as he tried to work the leg of his jeans off along with his boot. Finally he sat on the floor to do it. Going to his knees, he struggled out of his shirt, stymied by the one button Smoke had left fastened.

Compared to Smoke’s smooth striptease, Trey felt like a blind ox, but he always did around Smoke. He lurched to his feet, determined to come up the winner in this game they always played, but need made him clumsy when he launched himself at Smoke.

Sidestepping at the last moment, Smoke laughed when Trey landed heavily on the bed. Instantly Trey felt Smoke’s weight on his back, blanketing him with smooth skin as hot as the breath that wafted over his ear.

“Oh look, you’re on the bottom.”

Trey knew what that meant. Only Smoke could make him want—no,
need
to do things he wouldn’t do with anyone else. Being in the same room with Smoke made his bones melt and his brain shut down. Trey wanted him to have whatever he desired.

Helpless to resist, he allowed Smoke to move him into any position he chose. The licking started again—his throat, his nipples, his cock, balls, and hole all wet under the assault of Smoke’s tongue. He lay panting when Smoke let him go to prepare. And somehow Smoke ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth became a very erotic thing, full of snarl and hunger.

And then finally Trey was on his knees, back arched, clenching with impatience as Smoke’s cock teased his hole. Smoke dug his fingers into Trey’s hips, searing his fingerprints into his skin, marking him. Trey knew he would feel them for days, if he was lucky. Spreading his legs and getting ready to be taken wasn’t easy for Trey. But somewhere along the line, Smoke seemed to have slapped an invisible brand on Trey, turning him about as resistant as whipped cream.

He
needed
the dull burn of Smoke’s shaft stretching him. His muscles worked, pulling Smoke in deeper as he entered. Each slow stroke melted any lingering reservations with a tiny orgasmic rush of pleasure.

Although he desperately needed to touch himself, Trey braced both hands against the headboard to make it good for Smoke. There was nothing gentle about the way Smoke slammed into him when he picked up speed, but Trey pushed back with equal force to meet every stroke. But when Smoke reached for his erection, Trey slapped his hand away and bit back a groan. Smoke stopped fucking him.

“Let me… get you off….” Smoke’s breath came in short bursts.

But he couldn’t. He might surrender everything else to Smoke, but not this. Trey grabbed his own cock. He wouldn’t last long, barely stroking himself before the aching pressure in his groin built to the point of no return. He rode the sensation as close to the edge as possible, dreading the plunge, wanting to prolong the anticipation until he could bear it no longer.

One last stroke and he clamped down hard around the cock impaling him. Darkness swam behind his eyes, and he couldn’t breathe. When the boom of his racing heart finally receded, his fingers were slick with come and his face was crushed into the pillow. The only thing grounding him was Smoke’s weight on his back.

Trey felt Smoke’s lips on his shoulder as he waited for Trey to catch his breath. Then Smoke pulled Trey down onto his side, managing to stay buried inside him while they moved. He slid his own leg under Trey’s to support it, spreading Trey wide. With long, slow strokes, Smoke resumed fucking Trey.

Although his cock was spent, Trey loved it. Floating in the afterglow of his orgasm, feeling Smoke’s arm tight around him, hand planted on his chest, being filled with Smoke’s cock, gave Trey a sense of completion he’d never allowed himself to feel before. He loved the little moans coming from Smoke as he rammed home, loved the way Smoke’s body stiffened, the swell of his cock inside stretching Trey’s hole even farther, and then the staccato jerk of Smoke’s hips when he came. Lying curled together afterward, sated and exhausted, he could pretend Smoke was his. Smoke’s hand, warm on his thigh, reminded him of Alex’s hand planted on Dolly’s leg.

“Guess you missed me after all.” Smoke’s hot breath wafting over his ear sent a shiver down his spine.

Unable to say the words, he found himself nodding. When Smoke laughed, his cock moved inside Trey’s ass, still hard, still owning him.

But Smoke wasn’t Trey’s and never would be. Smoke was like the wind, and nobody could corral a free spirit like his. Anything more would lead to complications, and Trey had always tried to steer clear of those. If this was all Trey could get, he would take it. He let out a deep sigh, snuggling closer in Smoke’s arms.

“YOU PLANNING
to snooze through the whole event?”

His heart pounding in alarm at the slam of the door, Trey shot upright in bed. He was naked and his skin was tight, pinched with dried sweat and come. The sheets were tangled around his legs.

Smoke stood just inside the door, fully dressed and holding Trey’s bags. He dropped them to the floor and grinned. He must have kicked the door shut behind him after taking a shower, getting dressed, and leaving the room, all without waking Trey.

“Thanks for getting my stuff.” Trey wiped a hand over his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d want to trek out to Dolly’s truck bare-assed nekkid to get your duds. Might give those gals snake-fright.” Smoke’s eyes glittered in the dim light. He yanked the curtains open, making Trey squint in the sudden light. “Want to grab a bite to eat?” He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, which were curved in a smile.

Trey realized he was staring at Smoke’s tongue as if he’d been hypnotized. “Yeah. Let me catch a shower first.” He stood up and yawned. He stretched, pointedly not looking Smoke’s way again. Then he went into the bathroom and shut the door.

THEY DIDN’T
touch when they walked together. If a man was gay and lived in Oklahoma City, no doubt he knew where and when it might be safe, but Trey lived in Fort Worth, and he didn’t take chances like that. He wasn’t a holding-hands kind of man anyway. Plus he always figured even if he and Smoke hooked up every now and then, that didn’t mean they were engaged. Didn’t want to cramp Smoke’s style in case he flushed better game out of the bushes—and Trey knew there was always better game to be had.

Trey distracted himself from the unsettling prospect of Smoke’s future conquests by taking longer strides, and was mildly amused when Smoke immediately hurried to keep up. All part of the constant game of one-upmanship they played at.

“You like Italian?” Smoke grinned as if he knew what Trey was up to.

“Yeah.”

“I know a place. Kind of a dive.”

“Dives usually have pretty good food, or they wouldn’t stay open long,” Trey said.

“You got a point. Sausage sandwiches, yum.” A sly glint lit Smoke’s eyes.

Ignoring the innuendo, Trey kept walking. “And usually dives are cheap.”

He followed Smoke into the diner, remaining silent while they were seated. As usual Smoke smiled and chatted and flirted with the girl who showed them to a booth. The owner poked his head out of the kitchen to shout a greeting to Smoke, who grinned and waved at him.

After they ordered, Smoke slid down on the bench seat to rest on his tailbone. His smile was merely friendly now, all the heat drained out of it. “How many buckles you win since last month?”

“Only one.” Trey grunted the answer, although he was damn proud of that buckle. He tended to downplay his wins just in case.

“Not bad for an old guy,” Smoke said.

Trey twisted his lips in a rueful smile. “Wisdom doesn’t count near as much as young muscles and bones in bull riding.” And whenever Smoke wasn’t there to tromp off with the top prize, Trey had a better chance of winning. Trey was a good rider. Smoke was a star. “How about you?”

“Can’t complain. I copped two, but who’s counting?”

Easy not to count when Smoke won more often than he lost. Trey beat down the flash of envy. They were friends and he was happy for Smoke. “You’re a good rider. One of the best.”

“If I were one of the best, I’d be riding in the national league.” Smoke narrowed his eyes for a moment.

“Why don’t you?”

“Used to, but even these days it’s not so easy for a black rider. Scoring doesn’t feel so impartial.”

“What about the Brazilians? You’d swear some of them were black to look at, and the judges seem to love them. There’s always at least five Killer B’s in the top ten.”

“Brazilians count as foreigners, like Aussies and Canadians. How many African-American riders do you see in the national league? Hell, Native Americans got us outnumbered there, and I can only name five of them off the top of my head.”

“Yeah, it’s rough.”

“I’m no Fred Whitfield or maybe I could make some waves. That’s why I save money on entry fees for events where I know I won’t win and ride where I can.” Smoke recovered his grin. “Besides, I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond. I’m more comfortable at the regional rodeos and even more at the GRA.”

Trey couldn’t help smiling back at Smoke. The man had charisma like the sun had light. “Yeah, I kinda like when the straight riders come in to ride in the Gay Rodeo events and everyone just assumes they’re queer. Talk about turning the tables.”

“Good for them to feel what it’s like to be in the minority every now and again,” Smoke said. “Let them get a taste of real scoring for a change, where the judges aren’t dazzled by their manlihood.”

Energized by the thought of the upcoming event, Trey sat up straighter. “Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Really? Can’t wait for the barrel racing and calf roping on foot?” Smoke gave a dirty snicker. “Chute dogging?”

The double entendre made Trey’s face flame in remembrance of what they’d just done in the motel room. “Bull riding, fool, that’s all there is. The rest is just filler. Bull riding.”

“Well, there is food and fucking, but you’re right. Riding is the best.” Smoke leered and Trey knew he was thinking of the motel room also. “So, are you gonna get lucky?”

As far as Trey was concerned, he’d already gotten lucky, but he tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. “Yep, pretty lucky.”

“Lucky enough to bet on the outcome?”

“Outcome of what?” Trey was distracted by the way Smoke’s lips curled up at the corners.

“Bull riding, fool.” Smoke laughed as he echoed Trey’s words. “That’s all there is. You and me, mano a mano, who’s going to take the buckle this event?”

Trey sucked in a deep breath. “I am.”

“We’ll see. Maybe it is your turn at that.” Smoke laughed again. “But I’m feeling lucky too.”

WAKING UP
in bed next to a man was a novelty for Trey. A good one. Smoke was on his side, turned away from him. Trey reached out to stroke the bare skin of his back, and Smoke’s muscles flexed under his hand. Smoke let out a long sigh and stretched before he turned to face Trey. He was smiling when he rolled over and kicked away the sheet that covered them. His dick was hard, and Trey wanted to reach for it.

“Always wake up horny.”

Trey nodded. He was hard as steel. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Wanna trade BJs in the shower?”

“Yeah, sure.” Trey watched Smoke stand up and stretch again.

Smoke grinned mischievously over his shoulder as he flexed his buttocks, making them dance and jiggle for Trey. Then he went into the bathroom, and Trey heard the water start.

Smoke stuck his head out of the door. “Waiting for an engraved invitation?”

“I’m coming.”

“Not yet, I hope.” Smoke laughed and disappeared.

Trey sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He licked his lips in anticipation of what was waiting for him in the bathroom.

Smoke was already in the shower, stroking his erection, his eyes half-closed and dreamy with pleasure. His skin glistened under the water cascading down his body.

Trey stepped into the tub and went immediately to his knees. He opened wide to let Smoke in. His cock tasted mildly of salt and Smoke, and Trey felt almost as if this was worship instead of a simple blow job between buddies. As Trey wrapped his lips over his teeth, he felt Smoke’s hand cup the back of his head to guide him, his touch soft and sure. A caress rather than force.

His own cock was raging, throbbing out a drumbeat demand for release. Doing his best to ignore it, Trey focused on the shaft solid and heavy on his tongue. Water poured down his face and spilled into his nose and mouth, making it a challenge to breathe. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the delight of soft, velvety skin over hard, insistent flesh in his mouth. He explored the little flare at the edge of the head and pushed his tongue into the slit. Smoke’s cock bounded forward in his mouth when he did it, and hit the back of his throat. He didn’t gag—he loved having Smoke so deep inside him. Where he belonged. With two fingers Trey lightly traced the pulsing veins on Smoke’s cock as he sucked.

He knew what Smoke liked, the secret spots that got him off. When Trey rolled Smoke’s balls between his thumb and fingers, Smoke grabbed his skull with both hands, holding Trey stationary as he pistoned his dick in and out. Trey felt Smoke’s cock contract and then swell before his mouth was flooded with salty seed. He barely had time to taste it before the water washed it away.

Smoke sagged against the wall, his hands still tight over Trey’s ears. He couldn’t hear much, but he could feel Smoke’s ribs heaving. Trey’s knees started to hurt, but his cock was hard and throbbing from having Smoke in his mouth. He resisted the urge to grab himself.
Control….

Then Smoke loosened his grip and straightened up. Trey tilted his head back out of the falling water and looked up at him.

“Like it?”

“Oh yeah.” Smoke’s voice was barely audible over the running water. “Liked it very much.” He bent over to kiss Trey, taking him by surprise. Then he said, “Your turn.” He pulled Trey to his feet. “Or maybe I should say, my turn.”