by Dean McManus
It’s forbidden, it’s a sin, it’s taboo and *dangerous.*
It’s *right* and *beautiful* and *addicting.*
They’re not supposed to.
They are anyway.
They’re young, they’d be told everything they already know. Wrong, dangerous, filthy. They’d be sent elsewhere, beaten until the devil was out of them. It’s a weird age, where the roads are still dirt, they’re barely old enough to be allowed in the Saloon, and James is due to find his brother and go hunting for that night’s meal.
Thomas probably should have been home hours ago, and there’s no doubt that Jack is out and looking. They’d had to get more creative with their hiding places recently, the bathrooms and the sheds too well known by both of their brothers, and though they are willing to cover for them, it only lasts so long.
It’s quick and dirty, the flat of James’ palm pressed tight against an open mouth to stifle the sounds, and only his will stopping his own. Each breath is too short and burns his lungs, the hand trapped between the leather of his trousers and his own skin working him quickly, and James’ doing much the same in the way of returning the favor. Their shirts had already been rucked up, so used to this that they know the tricks and ways to make it a quick and easy clean up.
When they finish, it’s with stuttering movements and James biting down on Thomas’ shoulder through his clothes, and Thomas’ muffled curses in god knows how many languages painting his skin. When they let go, the draw to each other is still intense, almost dramatic even though they know their time is so limited. The kiss is lazy and unhurried, his words written with the trace of his tongue.
“James-” It’s barely heard, reluctance in the form of his name. Said man stalls the words that would come next with another kiss, kept chaste, yet lingering. “I know.” They’re still a little out of breath, but by the time they’ll be out of there it’ll be back to normal. They’ve got it down to an art. It’s a thought that when he’s alone, brings his mood down to the point of whiskey and bruising his knuckles. The truth can’t be changed, at least not yet.
Their clothes are fixed and hair patted back into place, mess contained. As per usual, Thomas leaves first.
It’s barely thirty seconds before he hears the familiar lilt of Jack’s voice, more exasperated than anything, telling his brother to hurry on home before they get whipped. Again. Because though they’re of age to be legal, you’re never too old for a lashing.
By the time James leaves, Sam’s given up searching. But when he gets home, he gets an earful. James needs to be careful, to stop, to quit before he’s hung in towns square.
Halfway through the act of brushing through his horse, Sam’s finally had enough and asks the question they’ve both been waiting for.
Is he really worth it?”
When James stops, all movement ceasing and his shoulders a tense line, Sam swallows rough and dry. He knows the answer before it comes.
“Yeah, Sammy. He is. Now drop it.”
About the author- “I’m twenty-three and I live in a small town in Texas. I started writing erotica at a young age, mostly through online roleplaying until I could gather my footing and confidence to do it on my own. I was an English Major during my time in college and hope to be going back to that soon. I have a family of my own, including a four year old stepson that keeps me busy.
I love to write in my free time, and I just hope everyone enjoys it as much as I do.”