Mike and Danny:
Restless Hearts
by Rock Lane Cooper
This is
a work of homoerotic fiction. If you are offended by such material or if you
are not allowed access to it under the laws where you live, please exit now.
This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be copied or distributed in
any form without the written permission of the author, who may be contacted at:
rocklanecooper@yahoo.com
Note that these stories, including this
one, are not an endorsement of unsafe sex. They take place many years before
the appearance of AIDS and before it was standard practice to use condoms to
reduce the risk of infection from sexually transmitted diseases. Remember
always: that was then, this is now. Sex is precious, and so are life and
health.
Chapter 13
Ed and Jake get reacquainted; Danny
makes an agreement with Brian; Baxter gets a visitor.
When they were in the elevator going up
to Jake’s room, there was a young guy in a black cowboy hat standing next to a
girl with Dolly Parton hair and his arm around her
neck. It looked like young love, and the way they held onto each other it
almost had to be a honeymoon.
After the couple got off on the second
floor, Jake waited until the doors closed, and he reached for Ed to plant a big
kiss on his mouth.
By the time they got to the third floor,
Ed was already thinking he’d never hold out. He would have to grant himself a
one-night furlough from staying faithful to LeRoy.
Jake’s big, strong hug and the thrust of his tongue into his mouth were enough
to rattle his constitution. The pressure of Jake’s belly against his and the
way their hips shoved together did the rest. He was getting a definite hard-on
in his shorts.
But that changed as soon as the doors
opened again on the third floor, and waiting there for the elevator was a
little blue-haired lady who gave them a sly grin and said, “If you got extra
kisses, boys, I’ll take ’em.”
And while Ed stumbled back, almost
bumping into the wall, Jake was saying, “Yes, ma’am.”
He spun around and stepped out to where
she stood, sweeping her into his arms and bending down to bury his face against
her cheek, their faces disappearing behind the brim of his big Stetson. She
laughed with a dusty voice that sounded like a lifetime lived on the plains,
and when Jake set her on her feet again, she looked at Ed, expecting another.
By now he’d recovered enough to get off
the elevator—this was Jake’s floor—and she reached over to him, giving his arm
an encouraging squeeze.
“Go on,” Jake said. “The lady’s waitin’.”
And Ed gave her a peck on the cheek,
surprised by the strength in her fingers as she briefly clung to him with both
hands.
“Thanks, boys,” she said, stepping onto
the elevator. “You made this old woman’s day.” And she stood there beaming at
them as the doors slowly closed again.
Jake slapped him on the back, and headed
him down the hall to the room. When they found it, at the end of the corridor,
Ed stood behind him as he unlocked the door.
“You kiss old ladies often?” he said.
“Happens all the time,” Jake laughed.
“They can’t resist me.”
The door opened into a big, softly
lighted room. While the two of them had sat in the bar downstairs, talking and
drinking beer, someone from the front desk had brought their bags up and left
them neatly in one corner, switching on the lamps over the two big beds. The
radio had even been turned on low—to a country station—so a salesman or anyone
else traveling alone might feel a little less like they were miles from home.
They were greeted with someone singing a love song.
Your love is so sweet I can’t refuse it; heaven help me
if I lose it
Cause my whole world’s just knowing
you’re my man . . .
Jake was already bent over inspecting the
contents of the mini-bar. He brought out two little bottles of whiskey and was
taking the cellophane off glasses that had been set on top of it. He quickly
emptied a bottle into each glass and handed one to Ed.
“I know you’re partial to
“You got that right.”
“Some things a man don’t forget about
another man.” Jake gave him a warm smile and held out his glass to touch Ed’s.
Then they both drank—to each other and to good times.
They had talked in the bar about the
years that had passed since they’d last seen each other. And Ed noticed that
Jake had changed some. For one thing, there’d never been much talk between them
before. Jake had always had only two things on his mind—running his ranch and
having sex with Ed. There’d been little time for conversation.
Jake had his own plane, a noisy Cessna
that he’d fly, whenever he got the mood, to where Ed was at some rodeo or stock
show, and they’d meet up at a motel like this. Jake would be in his underwear
already by the time Ed showed up at the door—or with a big towel around him
because he’d taken a shower—no time to waste.
And within a minute they’d be on the bed,
falling together into an energetic sixty-nine—Ed, flat on his back with his
pants pulled down, looking up and seeing Jake’s legs already straddling him,
his hard cock and loose-hanging balls suspended overhead, like a toy version of
his Cessna coming in for a landing.
In two hours, Jake would wordlessly pump
out about a quart of semen and then be dressed and leaving again, pulling on
his boots and reaching for his hat. His only words then would be, “Come stay at
the ranch. We could fuck like this a helluva lot more
often.”
Tonight they’d already talked more than
they ever had before—in all the ten or twenty times put together. Ed learned
that Jake had just turned thirty-five—“more’n half
way to old age,” as he put it—his brother had drowned two years before on a
fishing trip in Alaska, and he’d nearly died himself when his pickup went off
the road in a blizzard and rolled into some trees along a frozen creek bank,
where it was more than a day before anyone found him.
“Doc told me I was gonna
lose my leg,” he’d said, “but I told him to go fuck himself.”
The old Jake was still there, sure of
himself as ever, but maybe less certain about some other things, like just how
long a man could count on being around no matter how tough he was. If anything,
he wanted more from life than ever.
“Never took you for a romantic kind of
guy,” he said now, throwing his jacket on one of the beds. He sat down on a
chair, setting his drink on the table beside him and stretching out his legs,
crossing one boot over the other.
Back in the bar, before they’d come up to
the room, Ed had told him that he and a buddy had arrived at an understanding
that was already looking like it could be a life-time arrangement—they just
hadn’t worked out the details yet.
He hadn’t named any names, because as he
explained why this meeting with Jake wasn’t going to be just like old times, he
realized he was kind of confused about who he was talking about. LeRoy for sure had touched him deeply—the man was all man
and so full of affection that Ed couldn’t resist the urge to be the mate LeRoy wanted him to be.
one
Yet, as he talked about himself and LeRoy, some of what he said was also true of Ted. After
drinking several beers, the two men had somehow joined together in his mind, so
that sometimes he was talking about one and sometimes the other.
“If I’d made an effort to get better
acquainted, I’d’ve maybe done better by you,” Jake
said. “I been thinkin’ it would’ve done me good all
these years to take a chance on someone—play the old
Russian roo-let of the heart.”
The bourbon was now adding a layer of
confusion all its own, and looking at Jake in his levi’s
and his handsome hat, Ed was thinking he’d never got to know him like this—with
all his clothes on. There was a difference.
Jake was all man, too, Ed might have
said, but he’d always been all man. Now there was this other part of him, a
depth that seemed to have come from his brushes with death. Not only had it
made him more thoughtful. It also had him kissing old ladies.
Ed began to feel a little light-headed
and tossed back the rest of his bourbon, as if it would help him think more
clearly. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Jake’s jacket.
“I look at my brother’s wife,” Jake was
saying, “and she’s just as busted up now about him dying as she was when it
happened.” He shook his head and folded his hands across his shirt front. “I
gotta wonder what it must be like havin’ somebody
who’d miss me that much when I kick the bucket.”
Ed couldn’t remember ever having a
thought like this. He considered Ted and LeRoy and
wondered which would grieve more if he was gone. Then—just for comparison—he
considered Jake, and with that he shook himself free of the whole idea. It was
too much like planning your own funeral—buying your own burial plot and making
a downpayment on a tombstone.
He put his hand down next to him on the
bedspread, and the sleeve of Jake’s suede jacket—like something alive—touched
his fingers. His gaze, which had dropped to the floor as he was thinking,
shifted to the soles of Jake’s boots and then followed the length of his legs
to the bulge in the crotch of his jeans.
When he glanced up to Jake’s face, he saw
that Jake was looking back at him. And, for no reason at all, he felt again the
urge that had come over him when they’d kissed on the elevator.
“What’s got you thinking?” Jake said.
“I dunno. I ain’t ready to die yet, I guess.”
“I sure as hell ain’t
either.”
More than anything, Ed just wanted to
feel alive right now. And it was either pour himself
another drink out of the mini-bar or—and he wondered at the old familiarity of
this desire—to have sex with Jake. In the silence, the radio was playing
another song.
Come and lay down by my side till the early morning
light
All I’m takin’ is your time; help
me make it through the night . . .
He got up from the bed and went to the
mini-bar. He reached for Jake’s glass, now empty, and opened another two little
bottles. He concentrated hard as he poured the drinks, the warmth from the last
one still rising in him and blurring any thought as it tried to take shape in
his head.
He handed Ed’s drink to him, and they
touched glasses once more, saying nothing this time. He went back to the bed
and picked up Jake’s jacket, walking to the closet to put it carefully on a
wooden hanger. It was soft and heavy in his hands, and he held it against his
chest for a moment before hanging it up.
Then he returned to the bed, threw back
the spread with one sweep of his arm, and the blanket with another. Under them
were smooth white sheets. When he turned to look at Jake, their eyes met and
held for a moment.
Jake leaned forward, pulling his feet
under him, but he didn’t get up. “Remember, this was your idea,” he said.
“It can be your idea, too.”
“You can bet your life it is.”
Jake stood, leaving his whiskey on the
table, and walked to where Ed stood by the bed. He put his arms around him and
this time kissed him softly and gently—like a man in love.
— § —
Brian was not happy. He’d told Danny far
more than he’d ever intended. And now Danny was looking at him like he was a
jerk—or worse than that, some kind of pervert.
He was tired, and the mess he’d made of
things seemed even bigger than ever. It was one thing blaming everyone else
when he was talking to Virgil, but he knew he couldn’t fool Danny. And Danny
was the one teacher at the college he still wanted to please—the one he’d ever
really admired.
Coach Stern had been at the top of the
list for a while, but he was always such a hard ass. He had ideas about
coaching baseball that were all fucked up, and if you didn’t see eye to eye
with him, you were in deep shit.
He’d learned that the hard way, and he
was done trying to live up to what the man wanted. One night, after a hard
practice, Brian had hung out with three other boys on the team who broke
training whenever they could get away with it.
Stern had caught the four of them at a
bar in town, where the others were pretty much regulars, getting pitchers of
beer with fake IDs—draft cards that one of the graphic arts majors printed and
sold at a reasonable price, so much like the real thing you couldn’t tell the
difference. Brian had got one, for the excitement of just having it—like
carrying rubbers in his billfold—and this was only the second or third time
he’d used it.
The owner of the bar must have had a
friend on the police force, his teammates told him, because he seemed to know
they were under-age and served them anyway, except now and then when they’d
show up and he’d laugh them right out the door. It meant, they figured, that
he’d got a tip the cops were coming by that night, and he didn’t want to lose
his liquor license.
This cozy arrangement blew up when a
student manager had seen the first-baseman’s car outside in the parking lot,
and Stern walked in, nailing them as they were starting into another pitcher.
They’d all got suspended, which pissed off the other players, who lost the next
three games without them.
Not that he was wrong to do that. He’d
just done his damnedest to make Brian feel like some kind of mental defect—and
mainly, it seemed, because he was the one with the best grades.
“You dumb shit,” Stern had said. “You
think you’re so goddam smart.”
If anything, Brian believed, he was less
guilty than the rest, but even when Stern got over being furious with the
others, he kept after Brian, sniping at him on and off the field, and always so
everyone else could hear.
The other players steered a path around
Brian, waiting for Stern to let up on him, but it just went on and on. It was
Stern’s way, he realized, of punishing him even more—turning the whole team
against him. Maybe he was supposed to quit, but if that was what Stern wanted,
he wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of seeing him
knuckle under. Anyway, he needed the baseball scholarship that was keeping him
in college.
To Danny, on the other hand, he was a
student—and he knew how to make an impression as a good one. Something he’d
learned from his mom, a teacher herself, who had encouraged him through high
school and praised him for doing well—getting on the honor roll every time.
She’d been there on the stage at graduation, smiling and applauding proudly
when he gave his speech as the class salutatorian—the graduating senior with
the second highest grade average.
Now, for the first time, his grades were
starting to slip. Living out of his car and missing classes were taking a toll.
So was this nonsense with Roxanne, who he wished now he’d never met. She was
punishing him, too. And so was Virgil, who was taking a kind of revenge on him,
instead of forgive-and-forget and getting back to the way they once were. It
was just no good letting people into your life if they could turn around and do
this to you.
He’d trusted Danny as well, and now he
saw he’d trusted him too much. He’d gone and told him about those nights at the
warehouse with the electrician. How had he got so desperate for a little
sympathy? And what was he thinking to pull that trick with the button on his
jeans? Now Danny was backing off from him, too, when what he needed more than
anything was a helping hand. It was all so unfair. He didn’t deserve any of
this.
Here they were in Danny’s apartment. He’d
poured out his heart and soul to the man, and he was standing there with that
look on his face—not of disgust like Coach Stern, and it wasn’t Roxanne’s fury
or Virgil’s anger either. It was more a look of sad disappointment.
“You want me to go, sir,” he said to
Danny. “I’ll go.”
“No, no. I didn’t say that.”
“You did, sir. You even said you’d give
me money to get out of here.” He pointed to the twenty-dollar bill Danny still
held in his hand. “And if it’s still OK with you, I’ll take it.” His car needed
gas.
“I changed my mind.” Danny shoved the
money into his pocket. “You can sleep on my couch tonight.”
Brian said nothing, studying Danny’s face
and trying to tell if he meant what he was saying.
“If you need the money,” Danny said,
“I’ll let you have it in the morning. Not before then.”
“I dunno, sir.”
“No, forget whatever you’re thinking.
You’re staying right here.”
He seemed concerned that Brian would be
spending the night alone—like there was some risk. Hell, he wasn’t half-cracked
like Virgil, swallowing a bottle of damn pills to put himself out of his
misery.
He allowed himself to feel a small wave
of relief. “Thank you, sir.”
“You gotta promise me one thing, though.
You’ll go over to the counseling center tomorrow and make an appointment to
talk to somebody.”
“I dunno about
that, sir.”
“No, that’s gotta be the deal.”
His feeling of relief began to waver.
“I know someone over there who’d be good for you to talk to,” Danny was explaining, but
Brian felt himself yielding now to a sense of defeat. This was not what he
wanted.
“Promise me,” Danny said.
Brian finally nodded. He would allow
himself to believe for now that he’d do what Danny said. In the morning he
could always reconsider.
— § —
Baxter lay in his bed, Lonnie tucked
naked into his arms and fast asleep. The young man always fell into such a deep
sleep after they’d made love, like he’d burned up every last ounce of energy.
Baxter could pick him up if he wanted and carry him to the other bed, and
Lonnie would hang like a feed sack or a big rag doll from his arms, never
opening his eyes and hardly stirring.
But most nights Baxter would let him lie like this against him, under the same covers, the touch
of his smooth back against Baxter’s chest, his butt nestled into Baxter’s
crotch. Baxter would reach across him and take his hand, pressing it gently
into his shoulder, or—like tonight—he’d slide his hand down to his belly,
eventually slipping his fingers around his young man’s cock to hold it wet and
warm in his thick fist, while Lonnie’s breaths came in soft sighs, his ribs
rising lightly under Baxter’s cradling arm, then falling again.
Remembering their lovemaking, Baxter
would marvel at the wonder of Lonnie’s simple honesty and his uncomplicated
ideas about how one man might show his affection for another. He seemed never
to question anything about either of them. He simply loved Baxter no matter
what and said just what he was thinking—no more, no less. You never doubted
him. He seemed incapable even of half-truths.
It worried Baxter to have been chosen by
such a trusting soul. He was only a man, and sooner or later one man lets
another man down. In the meantime, he would do everything in his power to keep
that from happening. He owed that to Lonnie, for he’d never felt loved so much
by anyone in his life.
The night had been still, the wind dying
down until it was only a whisper in the trees that grew outside the window
where he and Lonnie lay together. Coyotes had put up a chorus of singing far
off in the hills, but they had stopped, and Baxter still lay awake, knowing
he’d fall asleep once he put Lonnie in his own bed, but not wanting to let him
go.
Then there was a new sound in the night,
the distant, low purring rumble of an engine, like a small plane in the moonlit
sky overhead. But it was not a plane, for the sound was unsteady. It rose and
fell, stopping for a while and then revving up again. It was someone coming on
the ranch road, and maybe someone who didn’t know the road too well.
By the time whoever it was had got to the
ranch itself, Baxter had climbed over Lonnie to get out of bed and was putting
on his jeans. The sound, he’d decided, was a motorcycle engine, and when he
walked to the front of the trailer, its headlamp was already flashing dimly
across the window blinds.
He switched on some lights and looked
out, where he saw it was indeed a motorcycle, circling round from the barns and
the corrals and coming toward him. As soon as it came to a stop in the pool of
brightness from his porch light, the rider hopped off and came to the door,
knocking sharply on it as Baxter pulled it open.
It was a man in a leather jacket, leather
riding chaps over his jeans, and thick-soled boots.
“I’m looking for somebody,” he said,
lifting a helmet from his head.
The night air coming through the open
door felt like ice on Baxter’s bare chest. He reached for his canvas barn coat
that hung from the wall beside the door and slipped into it.
“Wouldn’t be a young man name of Ty, would it?” he said.
“Yes. Is he here?”
“Sorry to say he ain’t.
We put him on a bus this morning.”
“A bus?” the man said. “Where was he
going?”
“It was the eastbound. That’s all I can
tell you for sure.”
The guy looked a little confused and, to
Baxter’s eye as he sized him up, a bit worse for wear. There were dark circles
under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping, and a
layer of dust and at least three day’s growth of beard on his face.
“Maybe you wanna
come in out of the cold,” Baxter said.
The guy didn’t seem to hear him. “Do you
think he could’ve gone back to
“Only one who might know that is the
boss, but he’d be asleep at this hour, and I wouldn’t want to wake him.” Baxter
was thinking of Kirk, who had come to the door that morning and asked him to
take Ty to the bus station in
“I’m going to
Baxter wondered how he could keep from
freezing, the cold air a sharp, stinging wind in his face as he rode down the
highway. Was he even aware of how cold the night was? Or how far he had to go?
It was 200 miles or more.
When he got to the bike he stopped and
looked back toward Baxter. “Did I throw a punch at somebody when I was here the
other day?” he asked.
Now Baxter was sure the guy shouldn’t be
out on the road. “Yes, you sure did.”
The guy shook his head and looked away
for a moment, like he was trying to remember. “Is he OK?” he asked.
“Take more’n a
sock in the nose to knock that man down.”
“Tell him I’ll be back when I can to say
I’m sorry.”
“Like I say, come in and warm up and you
can tell him yourself in a few hours.”
“No, just tell him what I said.” He
turned back to the bike and threw one leg over it. He revved the engine twice
as put his helmet on again. Then he was rolling off into the night, and he was
gone.
Continued . . .
More stories. There are
links to all the Mike and Danny stories, plus a
conversation with the author, pictures of the characters, and some cowboy
poetry at the Rock Lane Cooper home page. Click here.
© 2008 Rock Lane Cooper
rocklanecooper@yahoo.com