The Farmer and Dale Chapter 4

The Farmer and Dale

Chapter 4

Dale spent the day after Rick’s sudden departure wandering aimlessly, then sitting, lost in a fog of confused misery. At first he convinced himself that Rick had left to go get some clothes or something and that he'd be back. After several hours, he was sure there would be a phone call. By dusk he realized Rick wasn't coming back.

He agonized over the thought of calling Rick's parents, but finally vetoed the idea. What could he say? Aside from the fact that Rick didn't live with them, they might not have heard from him that day in any case. He had Rick's number, but refused to use it. If Rick was breaking things off, he wasn't going to chase him. And yet he worried. What if something had happened to him?

Finally in a fit of panic, he called Rick's parents. His mother answered the phone. Dale casually inquired if she knew when Rick was coming to take the backhoe back to their farm. Rick's mother innocently answered that she wasn't sure, but told Dale she'd ask Rick when he came in from the barn. She asked Dale if he’d enjoyed the lemon meringue pie. Dale assured her that he had in spite of the fact that it remained untouched. With their conversation completed, he sat in silence. Rick was unhurt but Dale's worst fears were confirmed.

He was devastated, stunned. The night before had been incredible, absolutely perfect. How could Rick just leave? Was sex all he’d wanted? Were all those sweet words about being in love a lie? Dale ran through his memories of the evening again and again. Had he done something wrong? Nothing made sense. Why would Rick just walk away without a word? Dale found himself on the floor, rocking in misery. It was Tony all over again, only this time a hundred, a thousand times worse. Dale was shattered. He curled up in a ball and tried to make himself disappear as darkness filled the house, and night descended.

He woke at 4 a.m. shivering, his muscles cramping. Pulling himself to the sofa, his mind remained blank as he rested before extending his limbs, easing the ache until he was able to stand. He walked slowly upstairs and entered his bedroom. Seeing the mussed sheets on the bed, he stilled the twinge that threatened to awaken the emotions he locked away.

Dale pulled the sheets free, leaving the bed unmade. Entering the bathroom he threw the sheets in the hamper while avoiding eye contact with the mirror. He wanted to see no one, least of all himself. Back in the bedroom, he donned a jock, shorts, socks and tee shirt. Downstairs he added running shoes. Letting himself out of the house, he warmed up, stretching while the cool air made him shiver.

Finally ready, Dale ran. He ran at a slow steady pace, mind blank, body on automatic. He ran until his legs cramped, protesting, and then he walked. Miles of road came and went while sweat ran from his exhausted body. He walked until his legs quivered with the strain, and then he stopped, breathing hard, lost. For the first time since he’d begun, he took stock of his surroundings. The territory was totally unfamiliar.

Overwhelming fatigue hit with the strength of a run away train and he found himself wanting nothing more than to lay down in the grass beside the road. Finished. Done. Over.

An old red pick up truck chose that moment to come over a hill, a grizzled old man at the wheel. He stopped by Dale.

"You okay, young man?" he asked.

Dale swallowed, his throat parched, "I'm looking for Wallings Road. Do you know where it is?"

"Son, that's about 25 miles north of here. You hoofin' it?"

Dale nodded, despair threatening to break through the carefully constructed mental fence he used to pen his emotions.

"Get in," the old man ordered.

Even if he'd wanted to, Dale was too tired to protest. He wobbled to the passenger door and crawled in. His hip, thigh and calf muscles burned as he silently settled back, buckling his seat belt.

The old man stepped on the gas. His radio was tuned to some station that played old country hits. The music was low and the old man talked. He rambled on and on, over each passing mile. Dale let the soothing sound of his voice wash over him, not really paying attention to the words. The man seemed to need no replies or encouragements to continue his conversation, happy to have a captive audience.

Forty minutes later, they pulled into Dale's driveway. Dale offered to give the man, whose name he’d learned was Henry, some gas money.

"Not necessary, Dale. I enjoyed the company." Dale opened the door, about to make his exit, when Henry stopped him. "Take my advice, son, whoever she is, forget about her. It ain't worth killing yourself over. You hear?"

Dale felt his throat close. He nodded, choked out his thanks and stumbled to the back door. In the kitchen, he got a glass of water and drank it slowly, cautious about making himself sick by taking too much too soon. He opened the refrigerator door and came face to face with all the barbeque leftovers.

Squashing the surge of emotion that threatened, he pulled a large garbage can in from the mud room and began throwing everything in, containers and all. Finishing with the lemon meringue pie, he scooped it out with his hands, throwing the pie in the trash and placing the dish in the sink.

He cleaned up his hands, Mrs. Hunter's pie plate, and dragged the trash container to the end of the driveway, grateful that tomorrow was pick-up day. All the unwanted reminders would be taken away. Dale returned to the house and heated himself a cup of broth, sitting at the table, sipping it slowly, along with another glass of water. He felt nothing. He was numb. A vast and bottom-less weariness settled over him. He rose and swayed, steadied himself and climbed the stairs. Taking a blanket from the closet, he lay on the bed and rolled up in it, pretending strong arms held him, keeping him safe and warm. Rick had burrowed under his skin so quickly that Dale had been helpless to stop it. Now he was paying the price.

Dale spent the next three days punishing himself, sure that whatever had gone wrong was his fault. All the while, he hid from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to bury him. He’d learned his lesson from the day before and paid attention to where he walked. Now he only walked. His tired, abused body was on the verge of collapse. He walked for miles and fed it nothing but broth and water. Pounds were melting away and Dale didn’t have many spare pounds to begin with.

He didn't bathe. He didn't shave. He didn't change his clothes. By the fourth day his appearance was totally disreputable, his smell even worse. After staggering home at the end of that fourth day, Dale sat at the kitchen table sipping his broth. His nose wrinkled and he peered at his cup suspiciously, the thought running through his head that the broth must have gone bad. He checked the date on the can and found it acceptable. Taking another sip, he nearly gagged. He took the cup to the sink and dumped the contents.

Again he settled at the table and drank his water. The smell poured over him. The miasma was rank, borderline putrid. Suddenly he realized what it was. It was him. He stank. An unexpected snort of amusement broke from him. A chuckle became a small laugh, until he was laughing uncontrollably. He swayed, sliding from his chair to the floor, laughing hysterically, until tears ran from his eyes. Tears of mirth became tears of misery. Laughter turned to gut wrenching sobs that tore through Dale's weakened body leaving him shaking uncontrollably, his body cramping and quivering with the effort.

Finally he quieted. He lay on the floor staring at the legs of the chairs and table as his mind slowly came awake. Lying quiescent and not fighting them, slow, silent tears streamed down his face as he opened the gate and let reality return. Dale had reached and experienced his catharsis. The tears he now cried brought healing, the acknowledgment of an end. He was ready to let go, to resume his life.

Feeling a new calm, a soothing peace, he levered himself up and stripped, dropping his clothes into the trash. Naked, he slowly made his way upstairs for a bath, a baptism as it were, signaling his new beginning.

* * *

Fear had driven Rick away. Fear of the unknown, of how his family would react. All his life his parents and siblings had been his rock, the solid foundation that made his life work. The thought of losing them left him feeling lost and alone.

That night, after making love with Dale for the last time, he'd awoken shivering, anxiety creeping over him, fear knifing into his gut. He rose quietly and seated himself in one of the oak chairs that Dale kept in the bedroom. He watched Dale sleep, so innocently, so peacefully. He contemplated his future with Dale, wondering if he could really sacrifice his family for him. What if things didn't work out? He'd find himself totally alone, no lover, no family, no friends. What if he ended up resenting Dale for his loss? Tears crept down his cheeks at the thought of this joyous love he felt, turning into something ugly and hurtful. Panic rose, twisting his guts, forcing him up and out. He ran.

Five days later, Rick was still atoning for his cowardice. He did every shit job he could find, just to keep himself occupied. At night he'd drive into Smiley's, and drink even the regulars under the table. Everyday he woke with a hangover, puking his guts out. Pale and shaking, he'd return to work, sweating the remaining alcohol out of his system only to return to Smiley's for another round of poison each night. He too, ate little. Guilt and anger kept his stomach twisted, when the alcohol wasn't of sufficient quantity to make him forget.

He wore a brace on his left hand. One day, cursing himself for his lack of courage hadn’t been enough. Agonizing over Dale and what he must be going though, blinded by rage at himself and the situation, Rick had punched a support beam in the barn, acquiring a hairline fracture. The pain in his hand was nothing in comparison to the pain in his heart.

That night at Smiley's, he sat alone in a booth, contemplating magical night he’d shared with Dale. His friends and those women who’d in the past tried clinging to him, knew better now than to disturb him. Rick had become surly and uncommunicative. He made it clear he wanted no company.

He sat and studied the pictures he'd pulled from his wallet. His parents, his siblings and their spouses, assorted nieces and nephews. A picture of Dale formed in his mind. Dale joking with him and teasing him. Dale fixing him coffee with that sweet, indulgent smile curving his lips. Dale working with him side by side, laboring through his exhaustion. Dale under him, their bodies joined, his moans of pleasure and words of love filling Rick's ears and his heart.

Tears sparkled in his eyes and rolled dolefully down his cheeks. Suddenly he slid out of the booth, dashing away the tears. He staggered out of the bar leaving early, his alcohol buzzed brain seized with the notion to see Dale. He had to see Dale. Had to be with Dale. Right that very moment.

Rick drove slowly, with exaggerated care. He had to get to Dale and nothing was going to stop him. He arrived to find the house pitch dark, not surprising as it was after one in the morning. He exited his truck and climbed the front porch steps. Hesitating only a moment, he began knocking at the door. He saw a light come on behind the concealing curtains. The fabric parted slightly and Dale's face appeared. His expression was at first annoyed, then startled. Rick caught a fleeting glimpse of infinite pain that was suddenly hidden behind blank wall of indifference.

The front door opened. Dale kept the screen door locked. It stood between them, a symbol of the chasm that had formed between them.

"What are you doing here?" Dale question coldly.

"I had to see you, to tell you how sorry I am that I left." Rick paused then blurted the words he couldn't keep inside, "I had to tell you how much I love you."

Dale blanched, drawing back as though struck. His voice quivered. "You're drunk, go home." He closed the door.

Rick heard the dead-bolt click. He turned away, shocked as his heart endured the final blow and shattered. Sliding to his knees on the porch floor, wracking sobs shook his body. He thought he'd felt pain before. It was nothing compared to this. Dale hated him. His life was over.

He didn't hear the door open, didn't see the figure that stood over him, until warm arms encircled him. Dale's scent filled his nostrils. He fumbled his arms around that precious body, holding on for dear life.

Dale's murmured words penetrated his consciousness. "It's not fair, where were you when I cried? Where were you? Where were you?"

Rick finally realized that Dale was crying too. "I'm sorry baby, so sorry. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I know I hurt you. I didn't want to. I didn't know what to do. I just didn't know what to do."

Dale pulled away. "You were scared? You didn't know what to do? You should have talked to me. That's what you should have done. You think I wasn't scared too, after all the shit I've been through?" Dale described in short pithy sentences, his failed relationship with Tony.

Rick stared at Dale, the realization of just how deeply he'd hurt him seeping in. He rose on unsteady legs and turned away.

"Where are you going?" Dale demanded.

Head hanging Rick explained, his voice a defeated mumble. "I know you can never forgive me, Dale. I want you to know, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You deserve someone a hell of a lot better than me." He placed a foot forward, preparing to walk away one final time.

"I swear to God, Rick Hunter, if you walk away, I'm going to kick your fucking ass." Dale ground out each word, his voice a fierce growl.

Rick turned, surprise giving him an almost comical expression. Hope filled his eyes.

"Do you love me?" Dale asked quietly.

Rick nodded.

"Do you promise from now on to share every problem with me? To talk to me? To give us a chance to find a solution together?"

Rick nodded again.

"Get your butt in the house." Dale ordered.

A ghost of Rick's patented grin made a fleeting appearance on his face as chastened, he entered the house.

Dale led him into the kitchen, indicating he should sit. Rick's eyes followed him non-stop as Dale fixed a pot of coffee. He placed a steaming cup in front of Rick and sat next to him. He studied Rick with a critical air as he sipped his coffee.

Reaching out, he brushed Rick's hair back from his face. "Looking a little rough there, farm boy."

Rick closed his eyes momentarily, nodding his agreement. He shivered at Dale's familiar, yet fleeting touch. He opened his eyes, running a critical assessment of Dale. "You look a little haggard yourself."

"It's been rough," Dale admitted.

Rick broke eye contact, his gaze fastening on the table.

Dale sighed. "I didn't say that to make you feel bad, Rick. I just figure we should be truthful with each other. I'm guessing you've made yourself feel almost as bad as I could have." He grazed his finger-tips over the brace on Rick's hand. "What happened here?"

"Hairline fracture," Rick admitted.

"How'd you manage that?”

Rick grimaced, a blush heating his cheeks.

Dale's eyebrow rose.

"I was, uh… upset. I hit a support beam in the barn," Rick confessed shamefacedly.

Dale tried to suppress a smile but was unsuccessful. "So you tried to beat up a barn. Gutsy. Real gutsy, Hunter."

Eye contact resulted in unsuppressed chuckles. The laughter eased the tension.

Dale stood, "Come on. You look like you could use a shower and some sleep."

He led the way upstairs. As Rick stripped, Dale laid out fresh towels for him. While Rick showered, Dale splashed water on his own face, used the toilet and resisted the urge to flush it just to hear Rick yell as the water got unexpectedly warm. He returned to the bedroom and stripped off his jeans briefly considering whether he wanted to don briefs or sleep naked as usual. He opted for usual.

Rick made his appearance hair damp, a towel wrapped around his waist. He hesitantly approached the bed. "If you want, I can sleep on the couch or in one of the other bedrooms. I don't want to push you Dale. I want you to be comfortable but.... I'd really like to hold you babe. Just hold you, nothing else."

A soft smile graced Dale's lips. He pulled back the covers, silently inviting Rick in. Rick smiled in return, dropped the towel and climbed in. The two of them snuggled together. Dale kissed Rick's shoulder and sighed. Bodies relaxed. The effects of emotional and physical ravages took hold. The reunited lovers fell instantly asleep, locked securely in each other's arms.

Dale woke slowly, stretching. His eyes blinked open. It was fully daylight, the sun well up. A thrill of panic clenched his stomach. He rolled forcefully, his elbow connecting with the hard abs of the man who lay next to him. Rick grunted, bending to protect his besieged mid-section.

"Damn, babe, are you going wake me up like this every morning? I was hoping for something a little sexier, if you know what I mean." He gave his eyebrows a lascivious wiggle.

"Sorry," Dale murmured, his breathing a bit rapid. "I wasn't sure... I didn't know..." He stopped, unsure of what to say without sounding accusing.

Rick rose up on his elbow, pushing Dale to his back. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll never leave you again." He nuzzled Dale playfully. "Except for one thing. I really gotta piss. Bad."

He clambered over Dale's reclined form, his morning hardon poking Dale as he went. Dale reached out, delivering a resounding smack to Rick's retreating ass. Rick yelped and halted, turning a frowning gaze on Dale's innocent face.

"You will pay for that and trying to look like an innocent little angel is not going to help you. Mark my words." He continued on to the bathroom. "By the way, if you need to pee you’d better get in here. That's the only reason you get to leave that bed today."

Dale grinned, eagerly anticipating Rick's lovemaking. He was disappointed. Rick kept him in bed all right. He made him rest and eat.

When Dale complained, Rick humbly explained. “You think I haven’t noticed the weight loss?” He lightly touched a dark circle under Dale’s eye. “And these dark circles. They weren’t here before. I caused this. I can’t change what I’ve done but I try to make it up to you. Let me make it up to you, baby, in whatever small way I can.”

Touched beyond words, Dale nodded and let Rick have his way.

Rick began by bringing breakfast in bed. He brought enough for two and they spent a pleasant, and to Dale's way of thinking, frustrating hour, feeding, teasing and arousing each other with no more release than that provided by a few long, hot kisses. Dale assured Rick that he was fine, to no avail. Rick just shoved another tidbit in his mouth, admonishing him to eat.

Between meals, they slept, or read, or watched movies. Rick stayed at Dale's side the entire day, except to prepare meals. Rick would be the last to admit it, but Dale could see that Rick’s body needed replenishment as well. Dale question him and learn that Rick’s meals had been sparse and his body had been inundated with too much alcohol. Dale insisted that Rick nap with him and was satisfied when Rick did so without protest.

Dale woke during the late afternoon hours before supper. Easing away from Rick, he watched him sleep then daring his lover’s wrath, he went downstairs to prepare their next meal. It wasn’t long before his disgruntled bed partner found him.

"Damn it, Dale, your supposed to be in bed!"

Dale jumped, flipping a handful of salad greens out of the colander and into the sink. "Shit! Did you have to scare me like that?"

Rick moved to the sink, relieving Dale of the colander. "Go back to bed," he ordered.

"Rick."

"Bed."

"Damn it, Rick, I'm not the only one who needs to be in bed. You think I can't see that you suffered too?" Dale admonished him. "You lost some weight too. You’re jittery from too much alcohol and you're tired. You didn't stir when I got out of bed."

Rick's anger was defused. "You're too observant. Am I ever going to be able to put anything over on you?"

"No," Dale chuckled, "but you're welcome to keep trying."

"All right," Rick conceded. "I propose a compromise. We fix supper together, then we both go back to bed."

"On one condition," Dale agreed. "Sometime before this night is over, you have to touch me with improper intent."

Rick looked at Dale, feigning shock. "Why, Mr. Vaden, I'm surprised at you! Are you inviting me to take carnal liberties with your person?"

"You damn well better believe I am," Dale complained. "I'm horny."

Rick snickered at Dale's plaintive admission. "Come here, you." He hooked an arm around Dale's neck, pulling him close. "I promise to perform sordid, lewd and lascivious acts on your body, later. You'll be my soiled dove, my fallen angel, my deflowered virgin."

Dale's brows rose at the last moniker. "Um, I think it's a little late for that last one."

"You're right," Rick agreed with a shrug. "Ah well. Hey, maybe I should introduce you to my favorite role playing fantasy. It's called, Milking the Cow."

Dale frowned, his face was a study in confusion and disbelief. He looked at Rick from under lowered lashes, unsure if he was serious or not.

Rick lost his struggle to keep a straight face. He burst out laughing. "Lord, you should see your face!"

Dale grinned sheepishly. "I didn't know if I should be jealous because you've been doing the cows, or drop to all fours and practice my moo."

Rick howled with laughter as tears streaked down his face. Dale grabbed him as he staggered into his arms.

"You're a nut," he accused Rick fondly. "Must be why I feel I have to take pity on you and give you a little lovin'."

"Bullshit," Rick chuckled. "You know it's because you find me sexy and irresistible."

Dale solicitously patted Rick on the back, while pretending to humor him. "Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot. Come on lover, let's get supper started. You need to eat. I think you're a little light headed."

The two of them continued their banter as they fixed their supper. They fixed a simple meal, salad, burgers friend in a skillet on top of the stove and a handful of potato chips each. Neither had the inclination to play gourmet. It was just too much trouble. They wanted a quick fix, simple food and a quicker cleanup. That accomplished they returned upstairs.

Rick declined sharing the shower with Dale, much to Dale's disappointment. After performing his nightly bedtime rituals he turned the bathroom over to Rick and jumped into bed, waiting impatiently. When Rick joined him in bed, he immediately became the aggressor. He kissed Rick with all his pent up passion, wringing moans from him. His hands wandered Rick's body, massaging, arousing. Having taken enough, Rick went on the offensive. He rolled Dale over onto his stomach.

"I want you on your knees, baby," he ordered.

Dale complied, groaning as Rick draped himself over his body. Rick reached around and took Dale's cock in hand, slowly stroking.

"Guess what I found," Rick whispered in his ear.

"What?" Dale panted, totally unprepared for Rick's next salvo.

"A teat," Rick answered.

Dale growled a warning. "Rick, don't start." Irritated, Dale couldn't help the laughter that began slowly bubbling inside.

Rick ignored him and continued to pull at Dale's cock. "It's a big one too, think I'll milk it." He increased the strength of his strokes.

Dale groaned, torn between laughter and the indescribable pleasure he was getting from Rick's touch. "You sadistic bastard," he gasped as the laughter bubbled closer to the surface.

Rick whispered seductively. "Moo for me, baby."

Dale lost it completely. The laughter burst free as he collapsed to the bed. He lay there, shaking with Rick's equally laugh-racked frame draped partially over his own. The bed shook with their mirth, not exactly the way Dale had planned for it to be shaking but pleasurable just the same. Every bit of laughter served to heal the waning breech between them

Rick rolled slowly to his back with a groan and a long, contented, mmm, as Dale followed, moving into his arms. Muscles relaxed and weakened by the laughter, they lay drowsy and acquiescent as sleep began to claim them.

Dale sleepily murmured a plaintive, "I'm never gonna get laid" and drifted to sleep.

Rick joined him, a sleepy, yet devilish smile curving his lips.

A couple of hours later, Dale woke to growing pleasure. His cock was engulfed in hot, wet, velvet heat that stroked and sucked. He groaned and reached down, finding the head of his lover bobbing rhythmically over his groin. He wrapped his fingers in soft, silky hair, petting, encouraging and freely expressing his appreciation.

Rick hummed, acknowledging Dale's awareness.

Dale's body clenched at the vibration. His buttocks tightened as he mindlessly undulated a counter rhythm. Rick's hand cupped his ball sack gently massaging, drawing a guttural groan from Dale. When his fingers found that velvety length of skin between balls and pucker, Rick pressed firmly. Dale cried out and released. Powerful spurts of hot, fertile cream flooded Rick's mouth. Dale could feel the convulsive movement of Rick’s throat when he swallowed.

Dale finally calmed, his body melting, loose and relaxed. Rick moved up covering him, finding his mouth and sharing a come-flavored kiss.

"You didn't get laid but I hope that helped," Rick whispered.

"Oh yeah. Just let me catch my breath and I'll show you how good it feels."

"Nope. That was for you, babe. Just relax and sleep. We've got time, lots of time now. Go to sleep."

Dale's heavy lids fluttered closed as Rick's deep, soothing rumble washed over him. Rick hovered over Dale softly stroking his hair, content to watch and to be part of the peace that filled his lover. He felt infinitely pleased and satisfied with himself knowing he was correcting his mistakes and heading in the right direction. No matter how much he loved his family, he knew now that Dale was his future. He was ready to accept the consequences, whatever they might be.

The Farmer and Dale, Chapter 3

THE FARMER AND DALE

Chapter 3


The next day arrived bright and sunny. Dale gazed out the window at the perfect weather while he sipped his morning cup of coffee. He felt groggy. He'd slept fitfully, tossing and turning, worrying and obsessing about what would happen today. After generally driving himself insane, at 2 a.m., he'd been ready to screech. He'd gotten up, turned the shower on as hot as he could stand and stepped in, letting the water pour over him. The steamy heat relaxed him, as had the long, slow jack-off session. Knees weak with the powerful release and finally warm and relaxed, he'd wobbled back to bed and crashed, sleeping soundly until almost seven.

He yawned again, and took another sip of coffee. His gaze wandered randomly over the yard. He was grateful there would be no work today. He'd never have heard the end of it if Rick had arrived to find him still in bed.

The thought of Rick and bed in the same sentence, caused a jittery tremor in his mid-section. Determined to put those thoughts out of his head for a time, Dale fixed himself some breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen, and planted himself at his desk in front of his laptop. His current manuscript had been neglected for almost two weeks, a situation he was about to remedy.

Rick had spent a similarly restless evening and was trying to breathe some life into himself with a second cup of coffee. After leaving Dale in the parking lot at Smiley's, he knew he was committed. Though he'd tried to hide it, Rick had seen the increasing sadness in Dale's eyes the night before. He was sure he knew the cause. He'd been careful to make no overtures toward Dale, still uncertain of what he wanted to do. The previous night at Smiley's had clearly shown him his path. As he'd danced with one woman after another, his eyes had continually looked to Dale.

It was Dale he wanted in his arms. He shuddered, instantly aroused at the thought. Dancing with Dale, their arms wrapped around each other, bodies locked together as they swayed to some slow, smoky melody? It was enough to give a saint a hard-on. And Rick was no saint by any means. He took another sip of coffee and with a sigh leaned back in his chair.

Once he’d gotten home and into his own bed, he’d lain there, stroking his rigid, insistently aching cock with slow, easy movements. Even after coming, he’d awoken in the night with a second erection. Dale had invaded even his dreams, leaving him hard and aching. Thinking again of the evening past, when Dale had made his excuses and rose to leave, Rick's desire to stay at Smiley’s had left with him. He'd quickly said his own goodnights and caught up to Dale. Almost panicked, he’d been compelled to confirm their plans for the following day. His relief had been monumental when Dale agreed.

In the parking lot, Dale had rallied enough to chide him about walking him to his car. Rick had automatically fired back that remark about a juicy piece of meat. His comment, though teasing and earthy, was as close a hint as he could come up with. He hadn't bothered to hide the desire in his eyes. Dale's look of startled uncertainty had struck a chord deep inside. He’d wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms right then and there. He'd settled for those gentle words of comfort, the soft caress, that telling endearment.

Rick groaned and shifted in his chair. Just the thought of Dale’s firm, yet luscious lips and his big green eyes, filled with an expression of surprised innocence was enough to make him rock hard.
Committed. Yes, he was committed. He intended to begin by revealing his feelings to Dale. Difficult as that might be, it was bound to be the easy part. It was the reaction of his family and friends that he dreaded, but his feelings could no longer be denied. He had no intention of losing Dale if, God willing, Dale would have him. Rick felt he was irrevocably ready.

The day moved on apace. Dale lost himself for a time in his work and felt better for it. He called a halt, mid-afternoon, had a quick snack then went to work. He pulled the grill from the garage to the back door, cleaned it up and built his pyramid of charcoal in the center of the bed. Leaving it, he returned to the kitchen and began preparing various dishes for their meal, macaroni and cheese, his mother's killer recipe, baked beans, pasta salad and a plate of mixed, raw veggies for dipping. There was beer chilling in the fridge along with a tall pitcher of iced tea, sweetened with sugar and flavored with lemon, a few slices of which floated in the refreshing, amber brew.

He'd just glanced at the clock, noting it was exactly five, when he heard Rick's truck pull into the drive. Dale's nerves tingled. His stomach did cartwheels as he watched the man who made his heart beat faster with anticipation, slide gracefully from his vehicle. Dale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This leap into the unknown was frightening, yet inevitable. There was no going back, only forward, knowing somehow, someway, it was going to be all right. Calmer, he was able to greet Rick with a warm, casual smile.

Rick walked in with his usual familiarity, grin in place. "I see the grill's ready to go. I brought the steaks, and...," with a flourish he set a covered dish on the table, carefully removing the top, "Mom baked us a pie. Hope you like lemon meringue."

"You mean you aren't going to try to convince me you baked this yourself?" Dale teased.

"I told you I can't cook. My abilities run in other directions."

"Such as?"

"I'll show you later." Rick intoned softly.

His words caused a clenching pinch in Dale's middle that slid straight to his cock. Desperate for a distraction, Dale grabbed some matches and made a hasty retreat, "I'd better light the
charcoal."

The knowing, near predatory smile that Rick sent him only served to increase Dale's obvious jitters. The tension mounted when Rick followed him out the back door. Dale felt the heat rising with each passing moment and he was sure Rick was deliberately fanning the flame.

By the time they sat down to eat, Dale was as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory. Rick had trailed him constantly. His nearness kept Dale wound tight, waiting for some move, some touch that never came. At one point, in the kitchen, as he'd tossed dressing into the salad, Rick had been so close Dale felt the warmth of his body radiate outward, seeping into his own over-heated skin. Goose bumps chased up and down his arms. His nerveless fingers had fumbled with the utensils he used, until he managed to lose his grip and toss one halfway across the room.

Rick had chuckled and retrieved the offending utensil. He took it to the sink, and using a dab of dish soap, gave it a quick wash and rinse. He handed it back to Dale, his eyes soft, the blue-green warm and filled with tranquil confidence. "Calm down, babe, it'll be alright, I promise." he soothed.

Dale turned back to the salad swallowing hard, his eyes tearing. He nodded silently, relieved when Rick excused himself to use the bathroom. If he doesn't touch me soon, I'm going to have a heart attack, Dale silently vowed.

Rick returned, helping to set the table. They served themselves buffet style from the dishes that lined the counter and rested on the stove. Once seated at the table, Rick started with a fork full of mac and cheese. His eyes closed in sheer appreciation at the delectable flavor. Opening them, he found Dale watching him expectantly.

"This is great, Dale. Tons better than that stuff out the box."

Dale explained about it being his mom's recipe. They dug in, conversation sporadic and easy between mouthfuls. Dale felt himself relaxing at the normality of it all. He could see this scenario taking place on a regular basis, knowing he wouldn't mind cooking for such an appreciative recipient. Not to mention of course, that as long as it was Rick, he wouldn't mind in any case, compliments or not.

Both men put away a good meal. Afterward, they attended to the cleanup, Rick insisting on doing the lion's share, as Dale had taken care of most of the dinner preparations. Dale fixed numerous containers for Rick to take home, stating quite honestly that there was too much for him to finish alone.

Dishes done, food put away and everything back in shape, they decided to leave the pie for later. The sun was setting as they headed outside. They grabbed beers, a bag of marshmallows and a couple of lawn chairs, hauling them out to the brush pile. Once there, they set up their chairs near a sturdy section of wood fence that marched a short way from the corner of the barn. Dale's grandmother had planted clematis vines there which were slowly winding their way up the fence, the buds still forming. Dale and Rick settled in, waiting for the approaching darkness to deepen.

For the most part they sat quietly, their conversation low and desultory. There was something infinitely soothing about watching a day come to an end. The birds had all made for their roosts, a few errant chirps piping out here and there. Crickets and frogs began to sing. Small moths fluttered low to the ground, landing first here then there, as they sought mates. Every now and then, the distinctive buzz of an early June bug could be heard. The big outdoor light that topped the electric pole in the backyard flickered to life, its blue/white light attracting a cloud of insects that would swirl, hover, dive and court its pearly glow until morning.

Sheltered from its light by the silent bulk of the barn, Dale and Rick sat in the dark, nursing their beers, until Rick stood. "I think it's time to light this fire." he said softly. His words conveyed a distinct duality, a subtle, double meaning that what not lost on Dale. His voice was hushed, as though reluctant to interrupt nature's night song.

Taking up the matches and newspaper that Dale supplied, he wound the paper into several long twists placing them here and there among the branches. He selected two long, sturdy ones for their marshmallows, placing them aside by his chair. Returning to the brush pile, he struck a match and lit first one, then another, of the twisted paper torches. The brush caught, smoking and crackling. The flames at first hesitant, took hold, then boldly, gleefully, dug in, reaching for the sky.

Dale's breath caught in his throat. Not only was the fire impressive, but the man revealed in its glow was magnificent. Rick was outlined, highlighted, gilded golden like some pagan god by the fire's leaping light. His hair shone, shimmering, spun silk. Dale felt himself a lowly supplicant, as he rose from his chair and approached the burning altar.

Rick turned to watch Dale's approach, his own breath at first hitching, then rushing to fill his lungs. Dale too was gilded by the flames. His dark, reddish, brown hair shimmered in the flickering light, the red highlights winking like fire opals. His body seemed to float, flow like approaching lava. Rick felt the heat of the fire at his back. It paled in comparison to the inferno that approached.

He took a few steps forward, meeting Dale, staring into his wide green eyes. The flame was reflected there, dancing in those calm pools of mossy green. Rick reached out, his arms enclosing Dale, pulling him close. "I have to." he whispered. His mouth sealed over Dale's.

The fire burned merrily, mindlessly ignorant of the conflagration, but a few feet away, that built and threatened to put it to shame.

Dale put everything into their kiss. He felt himself drown and was resuscitated, awakened by the flavors, scent and heat of the man in his arms, by the clever tongue that languorously explored his mouth and the thick demanding bulge that undulated so sensuously, insistently against his own. Rick drew back, his retreat pulling a whimper of protest from Dale. Eyes opening, he stared at the beautiful face just inches from his own. Dale blinked to clear the haze that blurred his vision. Stunned by the unexpected depths of sensation Rick had caused, he slowly slid his tongue over lips swollen from the fierce passion of their kiss.

Rick gave a pained groan and rocked his body against Dale’s. "Say yes, babe. Dale, say yes." he pleaded, his voice a rough, husky rasp that sent shivers down Dale's spine.

Without hesitation Dale whispered, "Yes."

Rick took his mouth again in a drugging kiss. His hands began moving over Dale in an age old pattern that was made new with each pair of lovers it guided. Exploring, roving, Rick's hands paused at the twin mounds of taut flesh encased in rough, tactile denim. Fingers curled in, squeezing, kneading and pulling Dale's hips tight against his own. Rick ground himself almost feverishly against his new lover. The pressure was an excruciating tease, hot and pleasurable, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

One hand relinquished its bounty, searching for new treasures. It glided over Dale's hip and around. Rick found the buttons of Dale's jeans, slowly releasing each one. Dale's hips moved with the rhythm of the fingers that squeezed his ass. Each forward motion brought him firmly against Rick's other hand. The fingers brushing against his erection sent small electric shocks down his spine which culminated into one wrenching jolt as Rick's hands simultaneously released to slide instantly into his jeans, pushing them down. While one resumed its place on his ass, holding him steady, the other encircling his raging hot, silky smooth erection. Dale cried out as Rick began to lightly stroke his cock.

Rick murmured softly, his cheek pressed to Dale's, his warm breath feathering over his ear, "I know baby, I know. It's okay. It's all right. Ah God, you feel good, so good."

Dale's breath panted from his mouth, his heart pounded as Rick slowly worked him. Everything disappeared, save the man who held him, touched him.

Dale found himself turned, draped over the sturdy wood fence near their chairs. His fingers dug into the wood when he felt Rick lower his jeans. Rick knelt behind him. Dale felt his fingers working at the laces of his shoe.

"Take them off," Rick ordered.

Dale obeyed, toeing off his loosened shoes. He was beyond objecting to anything. Rick divested him of his jeans and briefs, leaving him bare-assed and exposed. He felt the heat of Rick's breath, a moment before his tongue laved one firm cheek. Rick moved over his ass, licking, kissing, lightly biting, until with infinite patience, he spread Dale's cheeks. Dale squeezed his eyes shut. The cool air wafted over his skin and his bodies opening clenched at being so exposed.

He heard Rick breath deeply, a deliberate inhale that could only be the act of one taking the scent of another. Before Dale had time to think about this unexpected act, Rick’s tongue gently touched and slowly swirled over his pucker, causing it to clench tight. “Fuck! Rick!”

Rick halted for a moment. “Feel good?”

“Well, yeah but… damn!”

Rick chuckled. “Just relax and enjoy it. It’ll help loosen you up for my cock.”

Those bold words sent a pulse of need straight to Dale’s gut. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the intense pleasure of Rick’s touch. Rick’s concentrated and diligent effort had the tight muscle that guarded Dale’s entrance gradually blossoming open to welcome the slick wet heat of his burrowing tongue.

Dale's moans drove Rick on, as each one became tinged with an increasing degree of desperation. Rick rose, quickly unfastening his own jeans, releasing his demanding cock. He draped his body lightly over Dale's. Moistening his fingers, he found Dale's quivering hole and slid one, slowly inside. Dale bucked under him. Rick held him steady.

His mouth again found Dale's ear. "Is this mine?" he questioned, his finger sliding slowly in and out. His teeth found Dale's earlobe, lightly biting, as he eased Dale open, expertly finding his prostate.

"Yes!" Dale ground out, shivering with increasing need.

A second finger joined the first, causing Dale to groan and push back into Rick.

Releasing Dale's ear he moved to the other, his stubble roughened cheek against Dale's, "Is it still mine, baby?" Fastening his teeth to Dale's lobe, he sucked and nibbled.

"Rick! Yes." Dale gasped, the taut ring of muscle loosening even more under Rick's relentless strokes.

Moments later a third finger was introduced. Dale whimpered as pleasure and pain mingled. He felt some slick substance smeared at his burning hole which made the penetration easier. He fought to relax, eyes closed as he panted. Behind him, Rick had retrieved a small vial of lube from his pocket and spread some over his tightly coned fingers, working them slowly into Dale's pucker.

“That’s it, baby,” Rick crooned as with careful, easy strokes he opened his lover, readying him for their joining. Dale was again moaning his pleasure, pushing back into each inward stroke.

Rick leaned forward, and spoke two words in Dale's ear, "Tell me."

"Yours," Dale groaned, "yours, yours, yours."

"That's right baby. Mine. I'm going to take what's mine. Now."

Withdrawing his fingers, Rick quickly sheathed himself with one of the condoms he'd brought just for this occasion. Smearing it with lube, his cock resembled nothing so much as a steel spike waiting to be driven into Dale's soft, welcoming sheath. Just as the spike's intended berth would give way for such an invasion, so would this fleshy channel. At first resisting, fighting the intrusion, beckoning pleasure and burning need caused it to give way, accepting the hard tunneling length that pierced it.

Dale ground out Rick's name. Agonizing pleasure and fiery pain warred at his breaching. Rick stopped, holding steady, giving Dale's body the time it needed to adjust. Moments passed. Dale gave his hips an experimental twist and moaned.

“Does it hurt?” Rick questioned.

"No. Feels good. Move, Rick. Now." Dale demanded. The pain was gone, pleasure awaited.

"Are you sure, babe?" Part of Rick was serious, in that he wanted to make sure Dale was unhurt and that he find only pleasure from now on. The other part was that imp that found enjoyment in provoking his lover.

Dale groaned dramatically, "Don't tease me now, you bastard, move!"

Rick nuzzled Dale at that place where neck and shoulder joined. Animal instinct washed over him as his bit down, holding Dale in place, claiming his mate as he thrust slowly forward until he was fully seated, buried to the root. He rested against Dale, sudden irritation washing over him at the presence of their shirts. He wanted more skin, more Dale. Impatiently, he pulled his own shirt over his head, dropping it at their feet.

He reached for Dale's, pushing it up, "Take it off Dale."

Dale complied, lifting his arms and shivering as cool air washed over his damp skin. Rick pulled away the offending garment, covering Dale with his own heated body. Grasping Dale's hips, he began to move. The skin of Dale's back rubbed his nipples, causing them to peak. He reached around with one hand, finding one of Dale's, already beaded, hard. He pinched it firmly, pulling a gasp from Dale, a gasp that fought for a place between his steady moans and grunts of pleasure.
Dale felt weakened by Rick's sudden urgency. Once begun, he moved with unrelenting, machine like precision. He drove them steadily upward with long gliding strokes that became short jabbing punches with a staccato rhythm that hit Dale's gland with unerring accuracy. Approaching orgasm had his balls drawing up tight, Rick's body slapping against Dale’s with each hard thrust.

As though knowing Dale was about to come, Rick slid his hand from Dale's chest, downward. He grasped Dale's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Twin guttural groans broke free as Dale's cock swelled, thick streams of pearly semen erupting in rhythmic bursts. Dale’s sheath tightly clasping his cock, Rick shot his load, his ass cheeks clenching as he rocked against Dale. He was buried to the hilt, grinding deep into the hot tunnel that rhythmically convulsed and squeezed, draining him.

Release calmed their urgent mating frenzy while exhaustion seeped in. Rick's cock slipped free and he dropped to the cool grass, pulling Dale down with him. They lay in a relaxed, rubbery heap until Dale shivered.

"It's a little cold, now that the heat’s off." Dale quipped weakly.

Rick slid his hand over the cool skin of Dale's ass, "You are cooling off a mite." he agreed. He groaned and rose, pulling Dale up. "Better cover up, babe, don't want any important parts getting frost bit."

Rick adjusted his own jeans while Dale donned his. They gathered up the rest of the discarded clothing, shoes and the neglected marshmallows. The fire had burned down to glowing embers that glittered sullenly under powdery ash. The remains of the bonfire seemed to be sulking. Its heat had not matched that generated by two horny humans.

Arms full, they returned to the house. Dale dropped his shoes in the mud room. Everything else landed on the kitchen table. Rick's contributions joined his. He looked up to find Rick watching him, a tender, yet possessive look on his face. Dale gave him a slow tentative smile. Rick's lips began to curve in an answering smile. He pulled Dale into his arms.

Dale was held him firmly while Rick rocked slightly. He pulled back and cupped Dale's cheeks in the palms of his hands, kissing him. Dale accepted the slow, loving kiss, losing himself in the arms that again brought him close. Their bodies melded from chest to thigh. Rick nibbled gently at Dale's lips, sliding his tongue in, finding Dale's, engaging it, enticing it to dance. Dale moaned at the exquisite sensuality of Rick's actions. His seduction was like hot melted chocolate, rich, decadent, irresistible.

Again Rick pulled away. He looked deeply into to Dale's eyes, his own, open, vulnerable, hopeful. "I don't know about you," he confessed quietly, “but I'm pretty sure I’m in love."

Dale closed his eyes, tears squeezing from the corners. Incredulous joy raced through him. He opened his eyes to find Rick waiting, his expression lost, resigned. Dale reached out, gently stroking his fingers over Rick's cheek.

He smiled. A brilliant, watery smile, "I love you too."

Rick's eyes filled with relief. He squeezed Dale lightly. "God, babe, you scared me for a minute there."

Contrite, Dale kissed Rick, his hands gently rubbing his back, consoling, reassuring. He slowly ended the kiss. "I'm sorry. You surprised the hell out of me. I was hoping, but I never really believed you'd say those words. Guess I didn't realize just how intelligent you are."

Rick's brow rose, "You know, city boy, casting aspersions on the intelligence of the man you just accepted as your partner, doesn't exactly speak too well of your own judgment."

Dale nodded sagely, "You're right. I take it back. I have excellent judgment and superior manipulative skills. I skillfully steered your monumental intellect into realizing your love for me."

Rick snorted, laughing, "Care to repeat that?"

"Not really." Dale replied as he gazed fondly at his lover. He felt giddy with joy. "Are you staying the night?"

"You bet, unless you want me to go home," Rick offered with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Fuck no! Come on, stud, I need a shower." Dale exited the kitchen and made for the stairs. He stopped, looked over his shoulder and winked. "You can wash my back, and anything else that strikes your fancy."

Rick grinned and followed. "Yee haw, hurry up, babe, somehow you got real dirty."

Dale took off, Rick chasing him up the stairs.

Dale stirred, stretching, his limbs sliding against the cool cotton sheets. He smiled a sleepy and satisfied smile. Reaching for Rick, his eyes opened to find the other side of the bed empty. He lay back, unconcerned. He imagined Rick to be in the bathroom or possible downstairs already. Lord knows he wasn't ready for another session yet, but some cuddling would have been nice.

Last night they'd showered together. He'd sucked Rick off and Rick reciprocated, his skill making Dale's knees weak. Hitting the bed, they’d snuggled together, warm and naked, talking quietly until they drifted off. Dale woke sometime in the night to find Rick between his legs. Rick had found the lube and condoms Dale kept in the night stand. He had gently prepared him, making love to him at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every move had been so tender, so filled with love Dale had been rocked to his very core.

Much as he reveled in Rick's care, he’d reached a point where he hovered on the edge of release. Rick had made him beg for it. He’d trapped Dale's arms over his head, making sure he couldn't touch himself. Holding him imprisoned, Rick whispered hotly in his ear, ordering Dale to tell him what he wanted, what he needed and how badly he wanted to come. Desperate, he’d finally begged, groaning with relief when Rick increased the pace, pounding his clasping chute, his aching cock sliding between their sweat drenched bellies, until he shot, practically screaming with his release.

After resting for a few moments, cooling semen gelling between them, Rick went to the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp washcloth and a dry towel. He gently cleansed Dale's sticky skin, from his belly to his well used pucker then toweled him dry. With a tender smile on his face, he slid his fingers through Dale's hair, brushing it softly back from his face, leaning in for a kiss. Rick returned to bathroom, taking care of his own cleanup. He came back and climbed in bed, pulling Dale into his arms. They drifted immediately to sleep.

Dale sighed and rolled out of bed. He entered the bathroom. A niggle of disquiet quivered in his belly. He made use of the toilet, picked up the jeans he'd discarded on the floor the night before and pulled them on. His bare feet made no sound as he walked downstairs. He glanced into the living room then entered the kitchen. No Rick. No note. No nothing. Stomach clenching in dread, he looked out the kitchen window. Rick's truck was gone.