- Hard Fall (10 page)

He fell quiet for a bit, and I wondered if I'd shied him off whatever he meant to ask. Then he set his bowl down and looked straight at me. "Are you Mormon?"

Now there was a mine field if'n I ever saw one.

Unfortunately it was one I had to cross. "Yeah," I huffed, not liking to talk about it with someone ... well someone I kinda figured to do a whole lotta non-religious type of worshiping to if'n I had my way. "I'm a member of the LDS church." Talking about it always reminded me the lie I lived. I did not want to be reminded right then. "Why?"

I didn't get no answer. When I'd about thought he'd left the subject, I got hit with another question, "Are you a good Mormon?"

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"Depends on your definition of good." I shrugged and dropped my bowl at my feet. Conversation killed my appetite.

Slowly he ate another couple mouthfuls, like he was thinking of how to describe it. "Coffee?"

"I ain't heartless ... I carry some for those friends of mine who might need it, want some?"

"I wasn't asking if you had it. Do you drink it?"

Somehow that always ended up as the benchmark of the religion. Don't know why, but I guess it came across as the weirdest normal thing the LDS did. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Nope. No coffee, no tea, no booze."

I picked up a stick and tossed it to the flames. "I keep pretty strict on nothing with caffeine."

"But you, ah," he looked up and even in the dancing light of the fire I could tell there was some hard thinking going on behind those eyes, "oh, never mind."

Yeah, I'd messed with his head the other day out on the wall. Guess he was trying to add two and two and coming up with five. "Look, Kabe, I don't take sacrament, haven't in a while." I tried to explain it as best I could. Knew I wouldn't be too successful, never managed to fully settle it all in my own mind. "Tell my Bishop it's 'cause some of the things I do as a deputy put that into a little conflict ... fights and all. Then, also my schedule, I got to work Sundays, so I ain't honoring that, plus it makes me miss a lot of things they say I should be doing, including my conferences with the Bishop." Since I'd never had to lay it out before, I don't know as I did even a passable job at explaining. "So I ain't a bad Mormon, but I ain't necessarily considered a good one neither." The best I 86

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could do was try. "But I believe in it, I got my faith deep in me and I'm pretty darn sure God loves me, no matter what.

Cain't manage more than that."

"Oh. Okay." Man it sounded like I darn near killed him ...

like a kid who's just figured out Santa Clause don't bring you no toys. He stared at the fire a might, then stood like someone'd yanked his strings. He held out a hand to me.

"Look you cooked, I'll wash up."

I handed up my bowl. Before letting it go, I asked. "You alright there, Kabe?"

"I'm fine." He sure didn't sound it.

We spent the rest of the evening dancing 'round each other. Every time I'd move near, give Kabe a hand or something, he'd back off. Perplexed me for a bit because of how he acted when we went down for Anya, but then I reasoned it through. Up there, out there, we played at top dog. There's lots of ways to land on the top of the heap ...

beat 'em, or scare 'em so bad they got the jitters every time they looked at you. For a lot of guys Kabe's stunt would have given them a case of heebee-jeebees to beat the band. That weren't me, but he wouldn't have known it. Maybe he figured I'd just done what I did to spook him back. Like I said before, gay and Mormon just don't add up in most people's minds.

I could be patient. Lord knows I've been patient most my life. While he edged 'round the camp, putting out the fire, making sure no food got left out to attract critters, I went and fixed things up just a bit. I switched on the little battery lantern I carried and hung it from the latch on the camper gate. Kabe's sleeping bag weren't more than a cocoon of 87

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black and yellow that wadded down to about the size of a softball. I'd seen 'em before, never could fit my shoulders in one of those extreme mummy bags. 'Course mine weren't much bigger than his. I could stuff it down to basketball size for packing.

What I had, that I used when I could, was a good set of army surplus blankets. Tossed one on the mats, be enough insulation for the mountain night, although even in summer it tended to get down into the forties. Then I unzipped both bags and sandwiched them between a couple more blankets.

I was just rolling up the last I carried to serve as kind of a pillow—I like my comfort—when I heard him come up behind me.

"Getting all domestic?" Kabe's voice caught me up short as I moved to the side. He looked over my shoulder and into the back of the truck. Pretty obvious I wasn't planning on us sleeping solo. "What are you doing?"

There were about a hundred lies I could have passed.

None of them would have been half close to the truth. I went for as close as I could get. "Look, gets chilly up here, but not freezing. No sense in being wadded up into one of those torture bags when we don't have to. This way we can spread out a bit. Although I will warn you I do tend to be a bit of a blanket hog." 'Course I left off the part about not having to unzip two bags to get near his skin.

Kabe sat on the back gate of the truck and started unlacing his boots. Not even looking at me, he asked. "Are you sure you want to do it that way?"

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I laughed a little to put him at ease. "I wouldn't have set it up if I weren't." Then I sat down heavy and began fighting with my own boots. "Tie your laces together and there's some hooks along the windows. Hang your boots from that. It'll keep the critters out of 'em."

After hanging up our boots we crawled into the truck bed and I pulled the top and bottom gate closed. Our own little metal cabin that smelled vaguely of oil and mildew. A little awkward, and still in our clothes, we managed to burrow under the blankets. Kabe rolled onto his side, back to me, as I switched off the lantern. Deep and solid, a night in the mountains settled down. 'Course it's never full dark out in the wild. Your eyes just have to take time to adjust. I shucked my fleece pullover and tossed it over my head. Without really thinking, I moved in close to his body. Then I caught myself and pulled back. Guess it felt nine kinds of restless to him

'cause his body went tense. For the second time that night he asked, "What are you doing, Joe?"

I shouldn't have been that close to him, bunked down in the bed of the truck. It wasn't all that cold, so I didn't have the excuse of needing warmth ... at least not the physical kind. I tempt myself sometimes. I shouldn't, but I do it all the same.

Instead I mumbled, "Don't rightly know." Lying's a sin, but so was what I was contemplating. And although I'd worked at getting to this point ... now that I was here, well, cold feet started. There's a big difference between wishing you was doing something and the actual getting it done. And this wasn't no back room in a bar or a glory hole where I didn't 89

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even have to look at who I was with. This was Kabe.

Someone I knew and who knew me. Knew who I was, what I was. Good Lord, I'd backed myself into a box canyon.

"Somehow, I think you know exactly what you're doing."

He laughed, rolled over a bit, brushing my thigh with his.

Everything started to ache. My pulse pounded down between my legs. "I don't think you ever do anything without thinking it through." As he moved, I scooted back some. Last thing I needed was for Kabe to discover the pipe in my pants. I wanted him but knew I should just let it be. As I squirreled away, my leg banged into the toolbox and a pile of rope spilled down across our legs. "You ought to clean out the back of this truck once in a while."

"Back of my truck's like a tent." I shifted again, feeling that lean, taut frame against my side. "Lots of room for gear, not a lot of room for people." And no room for me to run away.

"Well," Kabe took the few inches of floor I'd given up,

"then I'm lucky, huh?"

"Lucky?"

"Means I have to get close to you, and you can't run away."

"Yeah," that swallow stuck hard in my throat, "kinda does."

"I don't hear you complaining."

He had me pegged dead to rights. "No way I'd complain about that." How sweet it felt. A guy up against me, hard muscles sliding under my hand when I reached up to run my touch down his arm.

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"I sorta figured that might be the case." Kabe's soft laugh filled the whole space. "Although you threw me a bit earlier.

You know, with the Mormon act."

"Ain't no act," I whispered as I pulled him near, "but I don't want to talk about it." I burrowed my head into that warm space where his neck met his shoulder. "I like how you smell." Good, clean, healthy sweat a few hours old seeped off his skin. It echoed with canyon winds and the smoke from the pine fire we'd built to keep warm.

"I like your ass." Punctuating his point, Kabe took a good grab. Solid fingers dug into my butt, kneading the cheeks and pulling me close. "Are the other parts just as good?" Then his hold slid around, up under my shirt and undershirt. He worked his fingers along my ribs, pushing the fabric up with his wrists. Every time his touch hit my skin, I twitched.

This was the do-or-die moment. My last chance to back off and say it's all been a big misunderstanding, nothing personal. And I just let it pass on by. Instead I yanked both my shirts off so fast my fist banged the roof of the camper shell. "You'll have to tell me." I hissed and dove back in to taste his skin.

The hair that no longer populated my scalp carpeted my chest and belly. Not like I boasted a pelt or anything, but smooth I ain't. Where I lacked fur, I sported freckles. Thank goodness it was dark enough in the back of the pickup to blur a detail like that. Damn things are cute on a twelve-year-old, in a few more years I'd be two times past that stage. I don't think I'd ever been cute.

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I'd heard someone call it a treasure trail before. All I know is that I treasured any man who trailed their hands through it. Set my skin to jumping as Kabe ran his fingers down my abs. My cock reared up to meet his touch even through my shorts and climbing pants.

I kept kissing, sucking on that warm flesh as I fumbled getting him out of his own shirt. The slick material gave me fits. I was almost frustrated enough to just say to heck with it and rip the damn thing to get at him. Kabe saved me. He chuckled and wriggled out of his clothes like a snake shedding its skin ... only a lot faster. Not quite as graceful, I shoved my remaining clothes off, kicking them somewhere toward the bottom of the makeshift bed.

Kabe pushed up against me, his hips grinding into my own.

When his prick brushed mine, I started shaking. Far as I could tell, he was longer, I was thicker; six of one, half dozen of another ... it was all good. Especially when I knew I was gonna get it. All night, if I wanted.

I certainly wanted.

Finally, I went in for a real kiss. Tarnation, his mouth tasted so good, like water for a man thirsty near death. His tongue fought with mine and burnt my senses all to ashes.

My touches roamed over his skin, memorizing the map of his muscles and joints. All warm, tight and strung like fissures lacing a granite face. I could climb that mountain a thousand times and never get tired of the pitch. When Kabe's hand wrapped around my prick, I jerked like he'd yanked cords in my belly. He had. Every nerve in my body was tied to that handful of hard flesh.

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"You know, Kabe, I ain't got nothing here."

"S'okay, I do." Somehow he managed to get it out while sucking on my ear.

I snorted, couldn't help myself, "You just carry that stuff around?"

"No," that earned me a bite to the same bit of skin. "I packed it when you said make sure to bring the camping gear."

"You knew I was, ah, into guys?" Of course I'd licked his neck. If he'd have been deaf, blind and dumb he'd still have caught that.

"No." Kabe pulled back from me. In the dark, I felt lost without his skin against mine. I could just make out his shadow as he propped up and fished in the gear. "I figured you might be, but you at least were like all horny fuckers and would take something if somebody offered and you didn't think you'd get caught." I heard the growl of a zipper and some rustling. "But you're gay, huh?"

"I like guys." I traced my thumb down the ridge of his spine. Kabe arched his back like a cat. If he could have purred, I'd have laid good money down that he would have. "I don't know as I'd say gay, I mean, that's like big city folks is gay, decorating and partying and all that." He rolled back into my body, little snorts echoing amusement. "Why are you laughing at me?" He was laughing, that boy was having one on me.

"Is that what you think of me?" Something cold, plastic and about an inch square got pushed into my hand as Kabe wormed back under the blanket and closer to me. Along with 93

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it, he passed over a twisted little tube of what I figured must be lube.

"You, naw. I mean, yeah, you're ... oh, heck I'm just going to bury myself if I try and explain it. You're a city boy, but you ain't, I don't know, like those guys on TV or in the club in Vegas where I sometimes go." The place filled with pretty boys almost every night of the week. While I didn't drink, I could usually find someone to go down or bend over. But, man, I knew girls who were less feminine than the boys at the club.

"You're sexy when you're flustered." Kabe's thumb ran along my jaw as he teased. "You get flustered when you screw?" While Kabe may have been a pretty boy, there weren't nothing fem about him.

"Not usually, no." I growled and snapped at his hand. The darn ropes still tangled on top of my legs. I shoved them back as much as I could without getting up.