Ennis Del Mar was a man who prided himself in being able to resist temptation. Yet he couldn't recall a time when he felt as tempted as he did now, sitting in front of the crackling campfire, just outside the tent Jack Twist usually slept in, and it was achingly uncomfortable. His mind replaying the night before over and over.
Yesterday was a drunken mistake, a swift way to seep warmth through his bones on a cold night, and Ennis just wanted to feel something other than the dizziness in his head and frostbite which would have grown gradually had he not taken action. Which is why, after the initial shock of feeling his hand holding something stiff thanks to the guidance of his only mountain companion's hand, he responded eagerly to the promise of something that would warm him up faster than any fire or thick blanket could - flesh, not his own. It was a rough, urgent need to take what Jack had offered, in a way giving Ennis more than anyone ever did before, his easy friendship, which Ennis secretly appreciated, few people having the patience to listen to his silence or grace him with their stories while getting next to nothing in response. And it seemed that Jack was also willing to loan him his body, no doubt freezing near death himself, alone in that crooked tent.So Ennis grabbed the offer laid out before him with both hands in an attempt to ease his hypothermia, and another feeling he couldn't quite grasp, a longing, painful sort of thing which wouldn't go away until he shoved deep inside Jack's body, his only reward a strangled cry from Jack and a rasp groan from his own throat, and that puzzling sense of relief at creating this tension between their two bodies and breaking it into a mixture of ragged breaths, fumbling hands, sweat, spit and semen. Ennis didn't know what he was doing, being at the age of nineteen and still very much a virgin in the eyes of, well, anybody who wasn't, but at the same time he didn't need to be told what to do. It was all over pretty quickly and with the simple-mindedness of a whiskey-soaked brain, neither of them gave what they did too much thought that night, falling asleep almost instantaneously after their taboo act, ceasing the tent's rustling, lying next to each other on the bedroll.
A rude awakening greeted Ennis the following morning, rubbing at his eyes, he first noticed he harbored a skull-splitting migraine, then the body laying rock-still next to him and finally, as if to make no room for mistaking what went on the previous night, his pants hugging his knees, reminding him of what Jack tried to make him do and how little encouragement he needed after getting the wordless answer to his query of what was Jack doing.
Jack stirred not long after Ennis did, but he already saddled up and rode his way out of any awkward discussion, clearly intending to successfully avoid him today. Jack wished him good luck with that, knowing they would have to face each other eventually, him walking a little funny that morning a testament to that. He couldn't help the disappointment lurching in his stomach at being so easily dismissed, looks like Ennis wasn't searching for what Jack thought he found in him, he'll most likely say nothing ever happened, pat him on the shoulder asking him exactly how many whiskey bottles revealed their bottom to him before he went to sleep that they would cause him such unfitting nightmares.
But there was a limit even to Ennis's indifference and later, in the afternoon, he walked over the lush grass bending beneath the weight of his footsteps, before his determination to say something on the matter of their indecent behavior crumbled under his cowardice. He needed to establish some ground rules. He had never done anything like this before and he'd be damned if he let it leave the confines of the mountain peaks. Those weren't his exact words, of course, but he got his point across to Jack, who apparently shared his sentiments. This put Ennis's mind at ease some, hearing Jack reply to his statement in kind allowed him freedom of deluding himself, that they were having a bit of fun up on boring ol' Brokeback and that's all there was to it.
The brief exchange of words left Jack surprised to an extent, wondering as he saw the fair-haired cowboy coming toward him in which way would he cut things off between them before they'd have the slightest while to develop, but it also came to him as no big surprise that his dreary vision of Ennis denying they were or would be anything more than sex buddies was dead on. He did what he could not to scare Ennis away, he told him he had nothing in common with the kind of men that weren't their kind. He was a liar. Oh sure, the part about never being intimate with another man was true enough, but last time he checked, it didn't necessarily matter if you had yet to sleep with a man or not, having feelings for one slapped that tag they were desperately trying to avoid right back on.
Throwing a twig into the fire, Ennis told himself he was not interested but he was watching, out of the corner of his eye, the tall silhouette in it's small tent, shedding his shirt before he lay down, revealing strong muscles interlacing, a lean chest, broad shoulders. Was he, the thought came very reluctantly as he swallowed hard, seducing him?
He was benched on his log, staring persistently at the rising flames as if their searing dance would somehow enlighten him, wringing his hands together like he would a dirty dishcloth, pushing that uneasy, nameless feeling in his gut down hard, the same one that kept rising back up like a spring, threating to spill out of his mouth if he didn't let it run it's course.
If he did not favor either of the two options he had, stay in the camp or head back to guard the sheep, why did he sneak a glance at the tent, wondering what it would be like, to let himself loose once and go with that gut feeling, and if Ennis Del Mar cared not that Jack Twist was all but offering himself as a sacrifice to whatever he might be inclined to do with him, then why was he standing up, his feet shuffling toward the door of possibilities, care thrown out the window?
He crouched near the tent flap, averting his eyes, staring at an imaginary spot on the ground, Jack rising to meet him halfway. He wasn't supposed to be insecure, or troubled by what he thought he might be feeling. Wasn't supposed to be curious and frightened at the same time of what he might see if he chanced a glance into the bluer than blue eyes of the man in front of him. Greater than his want to find out what lay in them, was his resolution not to.
A hand was placed delicately on Ennis's arm, making the shift of the other body moving closer to him barely noticeable and oddly unalarming. Seeing Ennis approach him with a great deal of caution, the way he looked out of place here, no sooner coming close than regretting it, petrified with fear of emotion peeking out of his stony demeanor, made Jack inconsolably sad with the dawning of a realization. It wasn't that Ennis didn't feel at ease around him, it was that he never felt truly at ease anywhere in the world, and the knowledge that Jack wasn't the root of the reason behind his uneasiness did little to comfort him. He wanted to get to know Ennis more, teach him to act as he saw fit in front of him not the way others did, and with a newfound vigor fueling his decision, Jack desperately wished to show Ennis there was someone who could genuinely care about him.
Would Jack frown upon him for deciding then hesitating to do this, for not moving except for the short distance needed to be crossed to be near him, shy as a girl, twisting his worn-out hat in his hands, a clear-cut sign of his mind-numbing anxiety? Or would he smile upon him, understanding the great courage it took just to walk those few steps to him, knowing he never did anything like that before? Would he be glad Ennis felt nervous in his presence, because it meant he felt something? Ennis wished he knew which was the scarier outcome.
But Jack did neither, he gently took the hat out of his hands and settled it down on that imaginary point he'd been staring at, and looked at him. It was a gaze not of judgment, nor of praise, but of reassurance. It said it was okay to want this, it whispered to him "Nobody's going to hurt you, no one's going to think any less of you, it's all right to let go. Just let go."
And Ennis quickly realized he wasn't capable of imagining the depth of the man he thought he knew because of the time they were forced to spend together. Jack raised his other hand to caress his cheek, the touch agonizingly warm, and struggled to come closer to him, shove his face as near as it could come, almost childlike in his determination to do so. His mouth open in an attempt to seize Ennis's, again taking the first step in their intimacy, bare and willing. Which made it damn near impossible to hold back any longer.
Ennis wanted so badly to know how being unguarded felt like, how being accepted for who you are was, and how soft were a man's lips. More precisely, the ones of the man who was nothing but kind to him the past few weeks, always interested to hear his opinion, and whose smile had a strange soothing quality to it. He also wanted just as bad, if not worse, to run away from the scene as fast as his legs would carry him without stumbling, screaming in terror for coming too close to that point, inches away from that release, the one you only obtained if you put away the armor you spent your whole life cultivating as a means of protection against the harsh reality.
Reaching out to someone within the darkness, clutching them tightly out of sheer desperation for human contact was one thing. Treating them like you felt anything other than lust for them was another. Kisses signified sentimentality, a yearning for the intangible in the notion of romance, to feel what couldn't be felt.
Was he too far gone already? Ennis found his answer and went for the plunge, thoughts of a distant fiancee nonexistent. He fell right into what he soon would discover to be an addictive exercise. Their mouths pulled together by a magnet force, giving in to the craving which intensified with every unintentional nuzzle of their noses and every brush of their lips. Time stopped for them then. Nothing existed save the feel of a kiss so soft and innocent it would have them both in tears had they not been stunned into still silence. They didn't dare move for a while, or they'd break the unknown spell.
What he fancied he saw mirrored in his eyes, he now heard from Jack himself, the quiet "It's all right..." followed by a nod of the head. Then Jack pulled him into his arms, laying them both down. While Jack's face rested in his hair, his left hand touched Jack's breast by a will of it's own, tentatively at first but with growing boldness, moving up his neck to get ahold of his ear, then back to his chest and around his side. Jack rocked him once, brushing those sinful lips against his temple and eyelids, Ennis's breathing quickening considerably. Jack then rolled him over on his back, raining kisses on him feverishly while he positioned himself on top of him and all Ennis could do was arch his back so their mouths wouldn't have to pull apart, noses crushing together.
For once, Ennis was glad he listened to the often muffled voice of his neglected heart, now beating faster than he thought possible as they moved to the ageless rhythm of something, a feeling, neither of them would be able to speak of for a long time, maybe never. But they knew this night would be the turning point and there would be no going back to just two men sharing a job and a mountain. Oh, how they knew. This would be the way they'd spend the rest of their summer days, and Aguirre couldn't do squat about it until it'd be too late.
It was all right. It felt good. It was all right because it felt right.