Four
Derrick
It wasn’t in Derrick’s nature to behave recklessly. He was always the one who kept it logical, kept himself under control, so the fact that he was doing something as illogical as he was was not only completely out of character for him, but it was also deeply exciting.
The days passed, but the madness he felt when he thought about Logan, when he was around him, didn’t. It was a little bit like being drunk all the time, and nothing else seemed to matter. Derrick went out with Logan every day, and his face grew tanned, and his body got stronger as he helped Logan with his chores.
He had sort of thought that his days of fixing fences and driving cattle had been put behind him, but he had learned that, if Logan got his work done early, they could sneak off to their loft in the horse barn, strip naked, and drive each other to new levels of ecstasy. Logan had gotten incredibly good at touching Derrick, at giving him pleasure, and that was more than enough of a reason for Derrick to work alongside him.
Honestly, part of Derrick was always waiting for them to be caught, braced against the inevitable negative reaction that would come from Malcolm, from their father. But the truth was, everyone was so busy on a ranch like this, one that was, honestly, understaffed, that no one seemed to notice anything at all. At dinner every night, Derrick sat across from Malcolm and looked into his brother’s face and waited for the accusation, for the inevitable teasing. Or maybe Malcolm wouldn’t tease. Maybe he would just get very still and silent, and his eyes would accuse Derrick. That would be far, far worse.
But no one even noticed, not as far as Derrick could tell. This crazy whirlwind romance, if that was what Derrick wanted to call it, was happening right under everyone’s noses, and no one seemed even the slightest bit aware of it. As far as Derrick knew, this was a secret, and both he and Logan were careful to keep it that way.
The safest thing, of course, would be to stop what they were doing. But a sort of reckless energy had taken hold of Derrick, had made him decide, for once, to allow himself this indulgence. Maybe it was Logan’s easygoing nature rubbing off on him, or maybe it was just the fact that, for once, he was allowing himself to feel things that he had only felt for women before.
What did it mean? He didn’t know, not really, though he knew the word bisexual. He had just never thought of himself that way before. And he probably didn’t need to, since he was going to be moving on soon enough. This could just be a fling, just for the summer. He doubted Logan wanted anything else anyway.
It was a good thought, a thought that allowed him to keep on doing what he wanted very much to do. And the secrecy made it more thrilling. Every so often, as he and Logan sat at the table, he felt the press of a foot against his own and saw the gleam in Logan’s eyes as he stole glances at him across the table.
Or there was tonight when Logan had casually—like it meant nothing—taken the same side of the table as Derrick so that they were sitting together. It was a tight fit, so their shoulders brushed together, and shortly after they sat down, Logan had his hand way up high on Derrick’s thigh, teasing him with the promise of intimacy which was impossible at the moment.
Derrick flushed and tried his best to ignore the hot, large, calloused hand on his thigh, pinkie finger less than an inch from where his jeans hid his growing dick. He tried to focus on simply breathing, on eating, like nothing was going on. He didn’t dare to look at Logan, who was slowly squeezing his thigh, inching his hand slowly, ever so slowly, upward.
Derrick wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to Logan touching him in public like this, and the fact that it was secret, hidden, didn’t make it any easier. Normally when he and Logan drove each other crazy, it was where they were safe, where Derrick could just let him go.
It was an exquisitely painful, pleasurable sort of torture. And that only increased when Logan kept slipping his hand up so that just the tip of his little finger was pressing against the hardened shaft of Derrick’s cock. Carefully, Logan massaged the length of Derrick’s growing erection, making him want nothing more than to strip off his jeans, lie back, and let Logan do whatever he wanted.
The fact that he couldn’t was driving him crazy, and when dinner was finally over, Logan got up like nothing at all had happened, though when Derrick stole a look, he could see that Logan, too, was fully erect. But his jeans hid it pretty well, and no one else was looking. Still, Logan was much bolder than Derrick, who stayed and picked at his food until everyone else had left the table.
Once they had, only then did he scurry to the kitchen to scrape his plate and load it into the dishwasher. His best bet now, he knew, would be to go to his room. He could jerk off then, get some release that way, think of Logan’s face and hands and lips as he shot his fluids all over himself.
But he couldn’t make himself do it. Masturbation wasn’t going to be nearly enough, not when he had experienced what it was like to touch Logan and be touched by him in return. So he stayed in the living room and he waited, and slowly, over the course of hours, the house settled down around him. People tended to go to bed pretty early on ranches, and though that had frustrated Derrick to no end when he’d been a teenager and had just wanted to sleep in, at the moment, he was deeply grateful for that.
Part of him had hoped that Logan would come to the living room, too, but as the hours passed, Derrick didn’t so much as lay eyes on him, which was undoubtedly frustrating. How dared Logan? He had driven Derrick utterly insane and then just walked away like it meant nothing, the bastard.
That wasn’t going to stand, and when the sky outside was dark and everyone in the house would be nearly asleep, if not fully conked out from a day of hard work, Derrick stole on silent feet through the house. He had grown up here, and he knew where each board would creak if he stepped on it, so it wasn’t difficult to make his way not to his own bedroom, but past it and past Malcolm’s bedroom, too, which was nerve-wracking, to say the least.
But Malcolm didn’t poke his head out, didn’t demand that Derrick tell him what was going on. It was just his own guilty conscience, and yet, that didn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. It was as though someone had attached a hook right under his sternum and was slowly, gently, painlessly reeling him in. That was how much control he felt that he had as he walked to Logan’s door, staring down at the handle.
Logan hadn’t fully closed the door. It stood open a few inches, not much, but couldn’t it be seen as an invitation? Derrick didn’t dare to knock. Someone might hear, which was the absolute last thing that he wanted. How would he explain why he was lurking outside of Logan’s room? What possible excuse could he give?
This was his last chance to turn back, but he didn’t. He couldn’t make himself, no matter how much of a good idea it might have been. Instead, he placed just his fingertips gently on the door and pushed, and it slid smoothly open, not even the faintest hint of a telltale squeak.
Inside, it was dark, the only light from the moon which shone in the window and turned everything to silver. Logan was hard to see, little more than just a mass, a series of shapes, under the sheets.
But then Logan stirred and sat up, and even in the dark, Derrick could feel the pressure of those piercing blue eyes as they looked at him. He could barely see Logan’s face, but he knew that Logan was looking at him, and slowly, carefully, Derrick pulled the door closed behind him, turned the lock, and walked daringly across the room toward the bed.
He shed his clothing as he went, some sort of madness taking him over, the same force that had drawn him to this bedroom seemingly controlling his movements now. He was naked and half-hard by the time he reached the bed, and Logan, just as silent as Derrick was being, shifted over the sheets so that Derrick could slip in.
Logan was naked, too. Did Logan sleep naked? Derrick knew so little about this man, despite how intimate they had been with each other. Or had Logan, by some miracle, been waiting for Derrick? He had no idea, but the fact that Logan didn’t seem to mind him being here now was the most important thing.
They kissed, tongues tangling, that same dance for dominance that had marked their interactions from the very first time that they had kissed. There was no speaking, no need for it since they both knew why Derrick had come to Logan’s actual bed for the first time. They had been in the barn, and they had even made out now and again, when it was safe, out on the open ranch. But never had there been a bed beneath them.
It wasn’t like they usually talked much, anyway. They both knew what this was, sex, passion, tension, and release. A fling. Something that couldn’t possibly last. So they might as well enjoy it while they could.
Logan was half reclining by the end of their kiss, his back against the headboard of his bed, with Derrick half draped over him. Was this their first time being fully naked together, too? Derrick thought so, and he liked it. He liked the way his smooth skin slid over Logan’s, liked his warmth, the way his scent rose up around him, the way that he could even feel the beat of Logan’s heart.
Logan gripped Derrick’s ass suddenly, hauling him on top of him so that Derrick was straddling Logan’s hips. Their erections were pressed together, and they could grind so easily, both of them fully hard now, and nothing between their eager bodies.
