0n their way to fix it

by gothica vanessa

Can Ennis and Jack finally "fix it" after those awful hurting words in 1983 ? This is of course a rhetorical question :) The real AU story begins from chapter 3. Chapters 1 and 2 are respecting canon and filling up some blanks :)

2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: SWEET MEMORIES OF '63

JACK POV

Jack had never been with a man before Ennis. He'd known for years already, though, that it was what he wanted, what he needed, deep inside.

Jack had just turned 14. It was a full-moon summer night and he had had another fight with his father — which, as always, had ended ended up with him hurt and needing to lick his wounds. He had escaped, as he often did, to the safety of the barn's hayloft to cry his pain out after having left a note to his mom saying he was going to a friend's in order not to worry her, still not able to understand why his father just couldn't or wouldn't love him.

He couldn't remember how long he had stayed there, but night had fallen, and when the barn's door had opened, Jack had thought it was his father coming to look for him and he had just crawled as far as possible into the shadows, hiding behind some old crates.

But it hadn't been his father. He had heard soft voices, and murmurs. When he'd dared to take a look, he had been shell-shocked. There were Roy and Gary, the two ranch hands his father had hired for the summer to help repaint all the fences. They were supposed to be cousins, but Jack had realized then that this was very unlikely 'cause they were, well, busy. And Jack had been hard and needy in no time, though he hadn't made a move or a noise, not wanting to be spotted. And the look of pure, intense pleasure on Gary's face while urging Roy on had made Jack envious. And Roy had been in his dreams for years after that.

At 17, Jack had gotten 'seriously' involved with Meg, the gentle daughter of one of his father's acquaintances. It had felt sweet and nice, and it had seemed like it was what everyone was expecting to happen, but Jack was still dreaming of Roy, and not of Meg. And when Meg had had to move to a far-away city with her parents the year after, when they had had to sell the ranch and move in order to take care of Meg's grandmother who had just become a widow and couldn't leave the city because of her health, Jack had felt guilty because he had realized that he didn't feel as bad as he ought to, as bad as Meg had felt. His mother, seeing him feeling bad and misunderstanding the reason, had talked him into applying for a summer job, which she was sure would change his mind and "Make that sweet smile return to his face".

Jack had been happy to have an excuse to leave. And he had loved working on Brokeback. Aguirre had turned out to be quite an asshole, and it hadn't been easy work all the time, surely not when the lightning had killed those poor 42 sheep. But Jack was used to hard work at his father's ranch and he was used to taking more shit from his father than anything Aguirre could ever ask or say to him, so there had been nothing he hadn't been able to manage.

And above all, Jack had loved the freedom, and the peace. And John, his partner, had been fun. They had killed their shared time playing cards, racing, swimming, making stupid jokes and talking dirty about the ladies: Mary, the one John was going to wed — hot like a volcano, at least if you were to believe all that John said — and the gorgeous nameless one Jack would meet one day, "Who would replace Meg in his heart", as John had said. But Jack hadn't been dreaming about Meg, or about any other hypothetic gorgeous girl. And he hadn't been dreaming about John either. He had still been dreaming about Roy. The summer had passed too quickly, and Jack had known the moment he had gotten back home that he would try to get back on Brokeback the next year.

He had been drawn to Ennis right away.

When Jack had gotten out of his old pick-up, he had expected a laugh, or a joke about his piece of antiquity miraculously making it as far as there. But there had only been silence. Ennis was all closed up in himself, not even giving Jack a "Hello" or any kind of greetings, not even taking a look at him — thinking of him surely as a threat for the job: after all, Aguirre could have already found one or two ranch hands for the summer.

Ok boy, if you don't wanna talk, then I don't wanna talk. Let's both pretend we're not here, huh.

So Jack's first thought had been that Ennis was kind of an asshole. But then he had seen. One glimpse of that face and that look under the hat; not more than a second, but that had been enough. He had felt stunned. And thrilled; nearly nervous... but in a good way. And Ennis not really paying him any kind of attention hadn't really mattered anymore, 'cause Jack had felt free to watch Ennis as long as he wanted, as long as he... needed. Which had felt odd, 'cause Jack was usually attracted by dark-haired men, like Roy, and he had never taken a second look at a blond guy 'till then. But there was something about Ennis that Jack just couldn't deny.

So they had stayed there for nearly an hour, not exchanging one damn word, waiting for Aguirre to arrive. Ennis was nothing like John. Or like anyone Jack knew, to tell it all. Ennis looked like he wouldn't notice — and care even less — if the world stopped or the sky fell. He was just there, but not there, fully present but completely absent at the same time.

After a while, Ennis's silence hadn't felt uncomfortable anymore. Actually, in a strange way, it had been a silence Jack had felt blessed to share... And stealing glances at Ennis every now and then had surely been an interesting way to kill the time.

And the first time Ennis had talked, letting his name out in pieces as if his words were just as rare as diamonds, Jack had understood. Ennis just didn't talk. It was not that he felt superior, or that he was too shy; it was just as though Ennis didn't know how to talk. And that hadn't mattered, 'cause Jack knew he could talk enough for two, no sweat. So he had, Ennis just talking a few words when answering a question. Jack's heart had leaped a beat at the obviously practised humour about his parents' death — "There was one curve in the road in 43 miles, and they missed it." Because Jack had heard, still coming through it, some of the hurt Ennis must have felt as a kid. And Jack had realized that Ennis looked pretty tough, but he was ready to bet he had a tender heart underneath.

And Jack had gotten really curious. He had wanted to find out all the things that Ennis kept locked up, there in his mind, 'cause he had been sure they were as damn interesting and beautiful as the boy listening to his rambling all evening. 'Cause yes, Ennis was more than handsome; he was astonishing, and truly beautiful. Long lean body, sharp — but not too sharp — features, thin lips, curly dark-gold locks, and those wonderful amber eyes which had the power to silently whisper so many untold stories and in which Jack had lost himself.

And Jack had known he was in trouble right that first night, 'cause when he had awoken suddenly, breathing hard at 2' in the morning in his pick-up, he hadn't been dreaming about Roy. He had been dreaming about Ennis.

Ennis, who had accepted his invitation when they had left the bar, because sleeping sitting in a pick-up was better than the only alternative Jack had known he had — sleeping outside. Ennis, now deep asleep on the passenger seat next to him, leaning against the window, half his face lost in shadows. Ennis, to whom Jack was feeling pulled as though he was nothing more than a puppet whose strings were in Ennis's power, 'cause Jack couldn't help but need to look at the place at the back of Ennis's neck where the first golden curls began, and Jack's hand felt tingly, wanting to wander just there.

Ennis, who suddenly shifted in his sleep, letting out a short little sleepy moan which zinged right through Jack's nervous system. Ennis, whose face was now completely lit by the moonlight. Ennis, even more beautiful now, if possible; not hiding — neither under his hat nor his well-built, thick, inner walls — and completely relaxed, peaceful, looking younger and sort of easier to reach. And Jack had watched silently, not daring to move in case that would break the spell, until he had dozed off to sleep again, Ennis's slow regular breathing working on him like a lullaby.

So the next day, when they had prepared to leave for the mountain, Jack had wanted to show off, choosing the most impossible mare to ride in a foolish hope to impress Ennis in any way. But he had been the one impressed, 'cause when Ennis had gotten on his horse, it had been plain to see just how well he could ride. Ennis was one with his horse, as though he was born in the saddle. And Jack had realized quickly that he'd better have Ennis bring up the rear, keeping an eye on the sheep, because if he was the one behind, he couldn't help being drawn by Ennis's hips, and the damn wonderful way they were moving, which was just far too disturbing.

And of course, he had dreamt about Ennis each night afterwards.

Gentle dreams, of Ennis's relaxed, perfect features while sleeping next to him in his pick-up, of Ennis's rare talking — or better said half intelligible mumbling —, of Ennis's even more rare half-side grin, of Ennis's slow walking, his head usually down, of Ennis's whiskey eyes lost on something Jack couldn't see, and wanted to see; dreams from which Jack always awoke all warm inside and somehow a little satisfied.

And hot dreams, a lot, of Ennis's strong hands, of Ennis's firm, thin mouth, and of Ennis's damn magical, hypnotical hips; dreams from which Jack always woke breathless, hard and needing to take care of himself, one way or another.

And Jack had been getting each day angrier at Aguirre and his new idea of having the two of them apart. Until one day, coming back to camp angry too at himself 'cause his mare had thrown him on the way, while he had been — as often — daydreaming about Ennis, it had just come out. Of course, Ennis, always so dutiful, had then said he wouldn't mind switching; not realizing that Jack was not complaining about the work but about them being apart.

But Jack had agreed, thinking that switching their jobs, after all, would be for the best, because watching the sheep all day and a good part of the night and letting his mare find the usual way back to camp was leaving way too much time free to think, huh. Actually, Jack had hoped that being responsible for the camp would occupy his mind with something other than those damn thoughts about Ennis. 'Cause they were driving him crazy... Ennis, the perfect cowboy: withdrawn, looking at everything through his imperturbable gaze from under that damn hat, never uttering a sound except for his so-rare and no-bullshit talking, exceptionally skilled rider, never missing a shot either; and of course, sexy as Hell. It felt just as though he had been ripped out from some movie screen and brought here only for Jack's bliss — or torment.

But being at camp turned out to be just as bad, if not worse. Except for the Friday trip down to get the food and other stuff they needed, there wasn't that much mentally-challenging work to be done, nor good long jobs even, other than looking for and chopping some wood for the fire. 'Cooking' and cleaning the dishes didn't take that much time either. And there were some of Ennis's things all around, which made the waiting all day just unbearable.

Jack had found Ennis's unfinished woodwork in the tent, and had looked at it minutely, holding it carefully in his hands for what may have been hours. It had been Ennis's way to pass the time and seeing it felt like sharing some little secret, some intimacy. And of course, there were the damn clothes. Ennis sure hadn't brought many of them, but for Jack, they just seemed to be everywhere, tempting him with Ennis's form and Ennis's scent all day long. And to make it better — or worse — there was the damn 'laundry' duty. Jack's hands had been shaking the first time he had had to wash one of Ennis shirts. And undershirts. And one pair of jeans.

Jack had been so hard afterwards; that day, he had decided that being at camp was definitely worse than keeping the sheep. He had collected and chopped enough wood for two whole weeks, trying to focus his mind on something else. He could still remember Ennis's quizzical look at all the kindling when he had arrived that evening, 'cause they were supposed to move the camp soon anyway. But Ennis being Ennis, of course, he hadn't asked anything; and that had been just fine, 'cause Jack sure wouldn't have known what to say.

And Jack had had each day more and more to fuel his dreams, waking or sleeping.

Jack had first been surprised when Ennis, after the bear incident, had finally agreed to shoot an elk instead of sticking with beans — which of course had been his first plan, always stubbornly following the rules as he was. Then, long days later, Jack had felt a smile come to his lips the first time Ennis had finally actually talked to him about something other than the job, and just listening to his voice had melted something inside him.

"Hell, that's the most I've spoken in a year".

Jack had felt special then, 'cause that meant Ennis didn't talk to anyone like that. Not even to Alma, his bride to be.

Jack had felt so high he had jumped on the first occasion he had had to act silly, rodeoing around like he used to do as a kid, and Ennis had smiled. Not the already so rare half-grin, but a mind-blowing, full, not-seen-till-then, real fucking smile. And Jack was ready to bet that smile had played a huge role in him stumbling to the floor right then. But being ridiculous hadn't mattered, 'cause Ennis had laughed; yes, laughed, and that had been worth it all, huh.

And later that night, Ennis had even made his first joke about Jack's lack of musical talent. After that, Jack couldn't help but make a fool of himself and play his harmonica every evening after supper, just to see Ennis shake his head and let out an exaggerated sigh; or, if Jack was very lucky, even glance upwards while smiling his real smile, the one that made his eyes shone. The one that always went right through Jack's spine.

And Jack was pretty sure he had intercepted quick and careful glances too, those last few days, when Ennis had thought Jack wasn't looking. And Ennis had never mentioned Alma again after their first morning talk at camp. He sure wasn't talking about her as much as John had talked about his precious sweet Mary. More important, after they had moved the camp, Ennis had said he wanted the tent to be 'right', though he wasn't sleeping in it anymore, and Jack had felt warmth spread inside each fiber of his body at the little remark.

And this very evening, Jack had felt hope, when Ennis had trusted him enough to admit to his virginity, something Jack knew boys their age just never did, giving him then a look that had left Jack wondering if Ennis had let slip maybe more than he had wanted to, while Jack had just been joking around; it hadn't been a question at all...

But Hell, Ennis hunting could also simply be thanked on Ennis's stomach. And Ennis opening up could be due to the fact that they were, after all, all alone up here, and not to the fact that Jack was special in any way. And Ennis being a damn perfectionist, him wanting the tent not to crumble down on Jack could also have nothing to do with Jack at all. And of course, Ennis was engaged, so those little glimpses from under Ennis's hat could all have been wishful thinking. And Ennis not talking to him about Alma could just be because Ennis, surely a real gentleman, wouldn't joke about his girl in any way with anyone. And Ennis's trust could be just thanked on Ennis's honesty, or on Ennis's inner strength, 'cause it seemed to Jack that Ennis was a man who stood his ground and just never cared about what the world might think. It was excruciating, those pros and cons constantly playing against each other in his mind.

But that night, their first night, the opportunity had presented itself. Ennis had been very, very drunk, and very, very asleep right behind him, and Jack just hadn't been able to resist. And it had turned out quick, raw, and somewhat painful, but it couldn't have been any other way. Jack had known it would be this way, and that had even been the best case scenario in his mind — 'cause Ennis could also just have gotten mad and punched him as hard as his father usually did when he felt he deserved 'a good correction'...

Jack had been laying in the tent for quite some time. He hadn't been able to fall asleep, knowing Ennis was so close, just out there, and knowing he would at some point freeze his ass off and wouldn't be able to refuse Jack telling him once more to get in the tent. When Ennis had finally come in to escape the cold, Jack had stubbornly stayed in his usual place, not moving too much to the side, and Ennis had had to lay right next to him. And Jack had finally fallen asleep, a smile on his lips. But Ennis's slow breathing and Ennis's warm body so close... after about a month of only dreams... it had been too much. Jack had awoken very hard, and he had wanted to feel Ennis's warmth against him; nothing much, Ennis's hand on his jeans would be enough. For a change, huh. Ennis wouldn't wake up, he wouldn't even notice, he was far too drunk.

And with that belief, Jack got on with it. And it had been heaven, for about three seconds and a half; Ennis all wrapped up against him, feeling kind of hard too against his lower back, their joined hands warm against his denims.

But of course, Jack hadn't been able to relish on it too long, 'cause Ennis had awoken and had tried first to rush away. Jack's mind had let him see then that there were only two options left. And as far as he had come, it was worth the risk. After all, Ennis hadn't punched him yet, so... And Ennis had been drinking far more than his usual... Maybe there was a reason, even unconscious, hidden behind? Door no.1: Ennis would push him away. Jack could always take the punches and blame it all on the booze and a stupid dream about Meg tomorrow — after all, he had been drinking a bit too much too. Door no.2: Ennis wouldn't push him away... Jack hadn't allowed himself to dream too much on that one. But he had known then that he should lead it all on quickly, 'cause he shouldn't let Ennis think too much about what was going on if he wanted anything to happen.

So Jack had taken Ennis's hand and had placed it back on his crotch. And Jack had known his hopes had been right, and that it was definitely 'Door no.2', because Ennis had watched him through very puzzled, drunken, eyes but hadn't pulled his hand away again, and had only retorted with a muttered "What are you doing?" — as if it wasn't obvious enough — and not with any angry or fearful words.

But then Ennis had kept on refusing his kiss, and Jack had felt panic spread through him, until he had realized that Ennis wasn't pushing him away either; that Ennis was more like keeping him at bay until he could decide whether to follow his mind or his needs. Jack, seeing this internal battle in Ennis's eyes, had played his last card, opening his belt and unzipping his pants. And that sound had been the right trigger. When Ennis had pushed him down, Jack had taken Ennis down on him too, letting him know with that last touch that he was ready to offer himself to whatever altar Ennis wanted to bring him to, any possible pain be damned. Jack had guessed from Ennis's reactions that if they didn't go through it here and now, Ennis would never give them a second chance. And Jack had been physically hurt a bit, but that hadn't mattered, 'cause he had felt right, and high — Ennis's groan as he came deep inside him more than enough to push him over the edge, you bet — and whole, at last.

But this feeling hadn't stayed long. When he had awoken the next morning, he'd heard Ennis preparing a very quick and silent exit from the camp. Jack had hurried out of the tent, just in time to see Ennis get on his horse and ride away, avoiding Jack's gaze and not answering Jack's hopeful "See you for supper". And Jack had felt utterly broken, in his body, in his soul, in his heart. To make it worse, it had been 'laundry day'. He had kept Ennis's shirt close for longer than usual before starting to wash it, and had wondered how he kept from breaking down just right then.

Of course, when supper time had come, Ennis hadn't showed up. So Jack had decided to go up there, bringing some food along as an excuse for coming, and confront whatever Ennis had to say. When Ennis had finally come to sit near him — but not near enough to be a good sign — and had said that it was a "One-shot thing", and that he was "No queer", Jack had realized Ennis's anger and uncertainty were in fact directed inwards, and not towards him. And Jack had realized, too, how wrong he had been, thinking that Ennis didn't care about what the world might think, 'cause Ennis surely gave a damn about how the world was supposed to turn. And that surely excluded whatever had happened last night between them.

So Jack had said he wasn't queer either, 'cause it seemed to be what Ennis wanted to hear: some guarantee. He hadn't really minded that he was lying about himself; he needed Ennis back to his usual self. If things weren't supposed to move forward, so be it, but he wouldn't be able to survive without Ennis's friendship for the months to come. They had gotten so close in so many ways; Jack had never felt such a bond with anyone.

Not another word, though, had been exchanged for a long time. Then Ennis had been silent while eating too. Jack had tried talking about little normal things, but Ennis's only answers had been little grunts or "Mmm". And Ennis hadn't looked at him even once. Jack then had felt too bad to continue pretending things were all right, had uttered a hushed "See you for breakfast" while trying to look tired, had saddled his mare and had escaped quickly back to the camp.

The second day and evening had gone the same way, though Ennis had gone back to coming to camp to eat. But his cold, hurting silence drove Jack mad even as he cursed himself for having destroyed whatever had grown between them in a single, foolish, feverish moment.

Ennis was engaged; Jack should have known better. Ennis was now even more shut-down than when they had met. Highly symbolically, he had even gone behind the tent to wash up and change in his now dry, clean clothes while Jack had been cooking.

That had never happened before. Jack had always washed privately — just the idea of Ennis's eyes accidentally falling on him then more than enough to make too evident what he tried so bad to hide, huh. But Ennis, from the first day they had switched, had found it no problem at all to wash just where the water was. It made some sense; after all, he had probably grown up sharing both bathroom and bedroom with his brother, so Jack had guessed that for Ennis, being naked in front of him probably meant nothing more than that — even though for Jack it had felt daily like pure, innocent torture. But now that it would mean something else, well... just like Adam and Eve, it seemed Ennis had discovered that he was naked and had to hide, huh. And, well, that said enough, unfortunately...

They ate, the silence between them not easy and peaceful anymore, but heavy and tensed. Jack had even tried playing on his harmonica to lighten up the mood, but it had been in vain. And he'd given up then, retreating quickly to the tent, sure Ennis would leave to the sheep the moment he got in, wishing Ennis under his breath a nice night with them, the dogs and the coyotes as only company, in that damn smelly shroud up there which surely didn't deserve the name of tent.

But Ennis hadn't moved. He had just stayed sitting by the fire. Jack had stolen a few quick glances and had gotten worried. Ennis didn't look sad. Ennis didn't look hurt.

It was worse: Ennis looked lost.

Time had passed, and night had fallen, but Ennis had still been sitting by the fire, his eyes hypnotised by the flames, his only movements being to throw some extra wood in it from time to time to make it last. It was too late now for Ennis to go back to the sheep, and Jack knew Ennis knew it too. So now, Jack was getting... hopeful. Ennis would be sleeping at the camp. Only question being would it be outside or inside the tent, which they both knew was only rhetorical, 'cause at some point Ennis would have to get in the tent to escape the cold. Jack then thought maybe Ennis was just waiting long enough to be sure it would be 'safe', to be sure Jack would be deep asleep when he would have to get in the tent. Maybe Ennis had just been too lost in thoughts to realize the night was coming, and now he felt 'trapped'...

He can't be AFRAID of me, right?

God, they would both then have no sleep tonight, 'cause Jack knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep, knowing that Ennis would have to come and lay close to him, even if just laying was all he was gonna get. Jack started to wonder if he should then maybe just pretend to be asleep; at least the waiting would stop and he would be granted Ennis's presence next to him.

But suddenly Jack could have sworn he had intercepted a quick side-glance towards the tent, which had made his heart miss a few beats, 'cause it was not a fearful glance at all. And, indeed, a few moments later there had definitely been another one, and Jack's heart had started racing. And had been racing for some time now, while counting those quick side-glances as they kept happening. The pounding in his chest was getting painful.

Those burning little glances... It couldn't mean anything else than Ennis finally admitting to himself that he actually wanted to get in the tent, while Jack was still awake, right? So why wasn't he coming? Now Jack was the one lost. Until something clicked in his brain.

Could it be that Ennis was no longer hesitating because he wasn't sure about who he was or what he wanted, but instead because he'd believed Jack when he'd said he wasn't queer either? So Ennis probably believed that Jack was just as disgusted as Ennis thought he 'ought to be' about what had happened. Could it be that Ennis thought that Jack regretted what had happened, even though Jack had been the one starting it all?

Or maybe some misplaced guilt; Ennis was always so 'in control', he probably felt that he should have been strong enough to resist both their urges instead of getting lost in the moment, no matter how drunk they had been. Now that he thought of it, Jack had actually noticed a few times, these last days, Ennis kind of oddly checking him out as he walked... Remembering how harshly he had been thrusting into Jack — like a madman — could he be thinking that Jack might be bruised? Ennis had no clue about Jack's little habits since he had seen Roy and Gary together years ago, which had surely played their role in him enjoying it all anyway after that initial painful thrust.

So then Jack had wanted to make an opening, just in case. He had started moving around in the tent, sitting as if he needed to take something from his bag, laying down, sitting again in order to put the item back in his bag after all, folding and unfolding blankets and clothes, lying down again, to let Ennis see he wasn't sleeping either; to let Ennis see he was waiting — waiting for him. But that hadn't worked. So after a while, Jack had taken his shirt off and had laid down in front of the tent's entry so that Ennis couldn't miss his bare chest as an open invitation. The night had turned fresh already, and they always had to sleep with their jackets on. So Ennis couldn't misunderstand this as Jack trying to get sun-tanned, right? But Ennis had continued sitting by the fire, and Jack had wondered if he should, in one last desperate attempt, take his jeans off too, the ridiculous thought bringing a smile to his lips.

Would that be a message clear enough to get through that stubborn thick brain out there?

But suddenly — finally! — and thankfully, 'cause Jack hadn't really felt like literally freezing his ass off, Jack had heard Ennis's footsteps coming closer. And Ennis had knelt, just in front of him. Hat in his hands, head down, looking shyly to Jack and then away; not saying a damn word, just staying there, waiting, asking Jack without words if it was ok for him to be there, if it was ok for him to even want to be there. Jack just couldn't believe what was happening... Ennis was courting. Ennis, always so strong, so sure of himself... now looking so unsure, and, yes, needy. Ennis was just breathtaking in his vulnerability.

Jack's heart had melted quicker than a snowman in the summer sun. And when Jack had thrown the hat away, Ennis hadn't protested, though his amber eyes had been again unable to look at Jack's.

And when Jack had let his hand slide onto Ennis's face, Ennis hadn't rebuked him this time. And when Jack had drawn him nearer for a kiss, Ennis had resisted for only an instant before bringing his own soft lips down on Jack's. And there had been bliss, as Jack had finally been granted the taste he had been longing for for nearly a month now, the taste he had been needing even more for the past two days, since their first night. Their first kiss. All shy and sweet and soft, full of tender promises.

When their lips had parted, Jack had said he was sorry. It had never really occurred to him that this should have been Ennis's line for the way he had acted the morning after their first night. Jack was the one who was sorry. Sorry for messing with Ennis's mind, with Ennis's so well-planned life, sorry for the hurt he could still see in Ennis's eyes and which clawed at his own heart. And he had said it was all right, everything that had happened, and whatever would happen if Ennis wanted him, 'cause he wanted Ennis too.

And then Ennis had allowed Jack to take him down onto him, and nothing had mattered anymore. They were together, and the whole world could crumble and Jack wouldn't even notice, 'cause Ennis was finally surrendering to himself, his inner walls crashing down silently — except that Jack could hear them fall. So when Ennis had lightly roamed his hand along Jack's neck, and then on Jack's chest, and when Jack had heard Ennis nearly moan, he had sworn to himself that he would take gentle care of the fallen angel in his arms.

When he had rolled himself on top of Ennis and their lips had connected again, more fiercely but still softly, Jack had felt whole again. And hungry. He'd then been allowed to take off all the clothes which were in his way as he tried out on Ennis nearly every kiss or touch or lick that he had ever wanted to. And with Ennis moaning and panting and shivering under him, Jack had felt his heart burn. And when Ennis had rolled them around until he was again on top, and had started to let his hands and mouth wander and roam all over Jack's face, shoulders, arms, neck and chest, not looking for a quick release like on their first night, but wanting to learn, too, each of Jack's sensitive spots, following Jack's "There, yes, Ennis, there" and any other half intelligible indications Jack hadn't been able to stop while his breathing had turned heavy, Jack had felt his heart melt and burn and melt and burn.

Ennis's kisses had been sweet and shy, never getting lower than Jack's waist, but insistent; and Jack had felt so cared for that he could have cried. And when Ennis had started to stroke him through his jeans, Jack had been the one then urging Ennis on, opening and pushing his own pants down and off with his legs, wanting to feel Ennis's strong hand on his cock so desperately. Ennis's strong hand, so many times imagined while he had been taking care of himself. Ennis's strong hand, at last, and not his own anymore. As Ennis had started to suck on his earlobe following the rhythm of his hand, Jack had thought he was going to lose it, and had asked for mercy, because Ennis had asked for mercy too, just a moment ago, and Jack hadn't wanted to confront Ennis with something he hadn't wanted for himself first.

So Jack had rolled on his belly, hoping this would be enough to make Ennis understand that he needed more, and that he needed more now. But Jack had got even better than what he had been hoping for, as Ennis had started to rain kisses all over his back while drawing strange patterns with his hands on his sides. And Jack had discovered then that his back was way more sensitive that he'd have thought a back ought to be, and had been panting and shivering and, yes, begging as he had pressed himself against Ennis, until Ennis hadn't been able to delay both their releases anymore, and had entered him in one long, firm thrust, hands gripping Jack's hips hard until he was entirely settled, then waiting a moment this time for Jack to adjust.

Jack had been rewarded for relaxing as Ennis's damn magical hips had started to move; and then Jack's mind had gone blank, 'cause Ennis had found that spot deep inside which Jack had known existed but hadn't known to be that sensitive until now, and had found it again, and again, and soon Jack had been thrusting back, following Ennis's rhythm as it had gotten harder and harder, until the wave had rocked him, bringing Ennis at his rupture point too just after.

Jack had then asked Ennis to stay on him for a while after, just relishing the moment, listening to their joined heartbeats and their breathing calming down. Ennis's arms had come to rest against his at his sides, and Ennis had fallen asleep on top of him, and Jack had realized right then that what he had thought for some time now was true: he was in love. This was not a crush. This was not an infatuation. This was the real thing.

The first thing he had seen the morning after as he woke up had been Ennis's eyes fixed on his. Ennis, already fully clothed, but still here.

"Breakfast is ready. See you for supper."

Then Ennis had gone out of the tent and up to the sheep. But Ennis had waited for Jack to wake up before leaving, and that had made all the difference.

After that night, the "thing" between them, as Ennis had called it once, was a fact both of them couldn't deny, and they had sort of wordlessly agreed to a new routine. Ennis had insisted on continuing to sleep with the sheep, as they were paid to do. Jack had known it was because Ennis just wouldn't forgive himself if a coyote happened to kill another sheep while they were enjoying each other, as he knew had been the case their first night from the bloody carcass he had seen, so he hadn't argued the point. But Ennis had started to stay longer at the camp for breakfast and supper. Or Jack would ride up to the sheep with Ennis after breakfast and stay there a few hours before getting back to take care, as quickly as he could, of the necessary camp business before Ennis got down for supper and stayed at the camp until he couldn't pretend anymore that the night wasn't approaching quickly and that he ought to go back to the sheep.

There had always been, during those happy days, a lot of talking, a lot of playful wrestling, and a lot of lovemaking. In which order those three things would happen could vary, but they would keep happening each day. Several times. The rules, however, had rarely changed. Jack would be the one usually talking, though Ennis had been opening up a bit more with each day. Jack would usually be the one initiating any physical contact, but Ennis would always take the lead at some point. Ennis would usually be the one starting their play of 'catch me if you can', and Jack would often end up letting Alpha Ennis catch him and win, just because losing this game had always been, for Jack, a reward, as he always got to see Ennis's half-side victorious grin and Ennis's eyes shining. And regularly, if Jack just suddenly stopped laughing and stayed very, very quiet under him, it would get even better; Ennis's joyful, playful eyes darkening with hunger and Ennis's mouth attacking his with renewed need. And their clothes would be off in no time.

Jack remembered perfectly one very hot late afternoon, when they had been talking for what could have been hours, and when Jack, for a change, hadn't been the only one to talk. Ennis had been mentioning how Cigar Butt reminded him of his first horse, at his parents' ranch. Of course, the horse had been sold along with the ranch after his parents' death. And Jack had known Ennis must have felt awful about it, 'cause Ennis just loved horses. Jack had seen him often whispering to Cigar Butt, and even to his mare, even once catching, on the first week they had been working together, a "Little darling" which had made his heart clench, 'cause it had been sweet to discover that his first impressions in the bar had been right, that Ennis actually had a really tender side, somewhere deep under his closed-up appearance. And Jack sure had wanted to find out all about this tender side for himself.

Jack must have been smiling his goofy smile then, remembering all this while listening to Ennis, 'cause Ennis had stopped talking and had asked again "What?", in the same cute way he had the first time he had surprised Jack by actually uttering more than five words in a row. And Jack had felt all warm inside again, just like he had then. Of course, he couldn't say to Ennis that he found him 'cute', so he had just replied "Nothing" and had changed the subject, complaining about the afternoon being too hot, and that they should take a swim in the cold river they knew was not so far from the camp, 'cause they had seen it on their way up. And Ennis had agreed.

But as soon as they had been near the water, Jack, though. had changed his mind and had pushed Ennis down and crawled up on him hungrily.

"Thought you wanted to swim," Ennis had said, chuckling.

"First things first, Cowboy." He winked. "All those clothes have to get off." He dropped a kiss. "Plenty of time for swimming." And another. "Later."

Ennis sure hadn't argued and had even rolled on top. And some moments later, Jack had felt whole, on his knees, half sitting back in Ennis's lap, Ennis's lips on his neck and back, Ennis's left arm hooked under his, hand clutching his shoulder from the front, keeping him firmly in place, Ennis's right hand sliding up and down his cock and, as ever the best part, Ennis's cock deep inside him. And Jack had soon been shouting Ennis's name.

But that hadn't even been the best part of the day. After recovering, they had gone swimming for a while, 'cause the water had turned out to be not as cold as they had thought it would be. The river being nowhere deeper than their waist, though, it had quickly turned into their usual catch-me game; except that it was in the water and not on the grass, so there had been no rolling on each other. At some point, Ennis had grabbed Jack by the wrist and brought him close, whispering "Come here" in that damn tone that always made Jack shiver, holding him captive in his arms as he had claimed Jack's lips. And it had been sweet. So sweet that Jack had let out without second thought that swimming with Ennis was by far nicer than swimming with John.

"You used to swim with John?"

Ennis's eyes had darkened for an instant, and Jack had been shocked as he had realized that Ennis was feeling jealous. Jack had mentioned John a few times before — even during their first talk at the bar — but it had always been about the job. Jack, however, could perfectly sense now how him swimming with John meant for Ennis the both of them naked, and with Jack starting 'the thing' between them and always being so eager for Ennis's attentions, it made sense that, in Ennis's mind, him swimming with John might not seem as innocent as it had been in reality.

Jack could have laughed, because he felt stupidly happy that Ennis was feeling jealous. And because he surely couldn't imagine himself with John this way. But Jack hadn't laughed, because Ennis would have freaked out if he had realized he had been caught. So Jack, instead, had escaped Ennis's arms and had started to swim again towards the other side of the river, showing what it had been like, saying as matter of factly as he could that he hadn't been swimming 'with' John, but 'against' John, as they had used to race. First one to get on the other side. First one to get on the other side and back. Etc, etc. And when he had been swimming close to Ennis on his way back from his demonstration, Ennis had tried to catch him again playfully, and Jack had known Ennis had understood. But he had continued his explanation, needing to leave no doubt in Ennis's mind about how different last summer and this summer were, swimming in circles around Ennis.

"You would have loved John, Ennis. He could never keep quiet. And he just never could shut up. Even worse than me." Ennis had chuckled at that. "It was his third time here, and he was well prepared and knew damn well how to kill some time. He would have asked you to race, to dance and sing along, or to play cards, can you imagine, huh... You would have been seriously thinking about hanging yourself after a few days." Jack had been swimming too close then, and Ennis had grabbed him. "By the way, you know, he's the one you got to 'thank' for me bringing a harmonica this year. Though I have to recognize he had a lot more talent at it than poor me, huh." Ennis had grinned, pulling him closer. "Another funny thing is, I brought cards too this year. Seemed useful when I packed. But I can't think of any card game I'd want to play with you..."

And then Jack hadn't been able to stop his own laugh, 'cause he had gotten the silliest idea. "Except maybe strip-poker, but I don't really see the point, huh." Jack had stopped himself before spilling the rest of his thoughts out — 'cause our clothes always seem to get off of their own will anyway — but Ennis sure had heard it all 'cause he had been blushing, and Jack's breath had been stolen away.

"I mean, you know... you and I, we have our own special way to pass the time." This last bit had been hushed out and Jack had quickly claimed Ennis's mouth before he could protest or push him away for trespassing over the line by talking about 'the thing' between them. But Ennis had just held him closer, and had kissed him back, and everything had felt right in Jack's world.

They had had another precious night, the sky coming to Jack's help one evening as it had hailed hard enough to keep Ennis at camp. Not that Ennis had surrendered easily. He had opened the tent every ten minutes, an hour long, checking if the storm was lessening. And he had only talked about the coyotes, and about the sheep drifting, and about the coyotes again, and Jack had objected that the coyotes sure were hiding too for now, that Cigar Butt would not be really cooperative anyway about leaving the relative safety of the tree he was hiding under at the moment, and that they just couldn't lose a thousand sheep, that they would find them back if they ever drifted, that everything would be all right, 'cause it was blowing real hard, and it was quite dark, and it was pouring hail the size of coyotes' balls, but there was no lightning anywhere, thanks God.

But it hadn't helped. And Jack had, for the first time, actually played cards, 'cause there had been nothing else to do, not with Ennis being so edgy. Until night had fallen, and Ennis had been trapped, and had finally stopped complaining about his helplessness, and had just surrendered. The look on Ennis's face had been irresistible then, and Jack had claimed his mouth, saying he didn't want to hear any more about the damn sheep for now. The storm had stayed loud around them, but in the darkness of the tent and lost in each other, they had felt safe.

At least, Jack had felt safe. Safe enough to straddle himself on Ennis's hips. Safe enough to ask Ennis something that had been on his mind for days now.

"You know Ennis, we 'Rodeo-boys'," at this mention, Ennis had let out a short laugh, and Jack had smiled back, "We're known to have very strong thighs. And I have this theory that I'd like to check. You see, if the 'I'm the one in control' bull here," he poked Ennis in the chest, "Agreed to quiet down for a while, I think I could ride on him just fine."

It was dark, but not dark enough for Jack to miss the uneasiness in Ennis's eyes. But Jack had just put on his brightest smile, the one his mum never could resist, the one his mum always said would get him anywhere, while rubbing himself up and down, low on Ennis's belly, clenching his thighs on Ennis's sides, until Ennis had gasped.

"You gonna let the bull fight back?"

Jack's smile had grown wider, if possible, 'cause he had known then that Ennis would get along with it. And Jack had leaned conspiratorially on Ennis, trying to sound serious.

"I guess I owe the bull the usual eight seconds. But after that, the bull is all mine."

Jack had then started to count aloud, laughing some while clenching his thighs as he moved on Ennis. On "One" Ennis had laughed too. On "Four" Ennis had gasped again. On "Seven" Ennis had bucked up against Jack. On "Eight" Jack had caught Ennis's mouth for a deep kiss, and when they had parted, their eyes had met and Jack had asked "Deal?" with mischief in his eyes. Ennis's only answer had been silence, but Jack knew by now that that kind of silence was the "Yes" Ennis just couldn't say.

So there had been no words afterwards, but the clothes had come off quickly, and Jack had stroked Ennis while straddling him again, and had positioned him at his entrance. It hadn't been easy at first, and Jack had had to try different angles before finally doing it right and feeling Ennis fill him. And then Jack had started moving up and down and up and down, looking for the spot inside himself that craved Ennis's touch, and had found it, and they had started moaning and panting, Jack now pounding down on Ennis until he hadn't been able to resist anymore, had pushed himself up on his left arm, gripped around the back of Jack's waist with his right arm, and had bucked up, trying to get deeper than he had ever been, and Jack had then had to use the muscles of his thighs to hang on.

But the fact that Ennis was breaking the deal and taking control again hadn't mattered to Jack, because he had been granted then what he had wanted to see all along, what the game had all been about. Ennis's beautiful face. Ennis chewing on his lips, eyes squeezed shut, as Jack had known they would be, moaning, gasping, panting, his head rolling back, his mouth half open... And it hadn't mattered either that Ennis's eyes had stayed shut all the way through, 'cause Jack had known that Ennis wasn't denying who was driving him to the edge, as Ennis had nearly cried out his name three times at the end. And that surely was a record, because Ennis usually only let out one single whispered breathless "Jack", and usually sure wasn't shouting. And then right there had been Jack's reward: the look of pure rapture on Ennis's handsome face as he came, first for the second time. The most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen. Beautiful. And that had been Jack's undoing.

Recovering, Jack had laid himself down on Ennis, enjoying the slickness between them, somehow far more satisfying than the usual wetness of the blanket under him, and their breaths calming down.

"Now, you better watch out or I'll start calling you 'Rodeo' all the time, huh."

A playful whisper, and Jack had felt warm inside. Ennis had been his "Friend", then his "Cowboy" too, for weeks already, but for Ennis, Jack had always been simply "Jack", or on some very rare occasions "Bud", or "Friend"; so the idea of Ennis giving him a really personal nickname was just too sweet for words. Of course, as soon as the words echoed around them, the moment was gone, his own words surely sort of scaring his Cowboy, and Ennis had started to shift uneasily.

"So, sounds like the storm's finally stopped. How about a midnight wash, huh."

Ennis had stopped there, but Jack had heard all right what Ennis wasn't saying — "before we're glued together", or something in that trend, huh. And Jack had understood that Ennis still wasn't as comfortable about them as he had thought he finally was. Ennis was still in denial, somewhat. Ennis could kiss Jack's lips, Ennis could fuck Jack's ass, Ennis could even by now swallow Jack's cock, but Ennis couldn't bear Jack's semen on him for more than ten seconds. Ennis could get along with 'it' while lost in the moment, as long as there was no lasting proof of their intercourse that he would be confronted with. And that had hurt.

Jack had nearly retorted that there was nothing wrong in his point of view about being glued to Ennis, but he had stopped himself just in time. There was no real point in arguing, it would only make it worse. Jack had just answered in a low voice, trying to steal some extra time before finally, reluctantly, disentangling himself from Ennis.

"The water will be damn cold with all that just poured down."

Ennis must have felt that this had come hard on Jack, though, because he had let out quickly, though in an even lower voice: "I'll get you warm again".

Which, of course, he had. Gently laying Jack down and rolling them both together in the covers until they had stopped shivering from the cold, then kissing Jack deeply while slowly rubbing their lower bellies together until they had both started shivering from the burning in their veins. And then licking his way down under the covers and taking care of Jack for what could have been hours there, not making a quick job of it as usual, but bringing Jack that close to the edge, then going upwards to give Jack some time to calm down, then going down again, and again, and again. And Jack had understood that this was Ennis's apology. And the only thing Jack could do then was forgive.

Jack had awoken in the middle of the night and had felt good. While sleeping, Ennis had rolled close to his back and had thrown one arm around his waist. Protectively or possessively, Jack couldn't know. And Jack hadn't minded. He was all nicely wrapped up in Ennis's warm embrace, and it had felt right, just right. Jack had fallen back asleep with a big smile on his face.

It had taken a few days to find the sheep and sort them out, because they'd mixed with a Chilean herd during the storm. They'd started out doing the best they could to at least get the count right seeing as the old marks had worn off due to the rain, but Jack had known Aguirre would blame them for the storm, like he had the year before. And Jack had been pissed. And had wanted the world to know how pissed he was.

"Fuck Aguirre".

But then Ennis had let slip something he probably hadn't noticed, but which had stopped Jack's heart: "What if we need to work for him again? You think of that? We gotta stick this out, Jack".

And Jack hadn't complained about the sheep or about Aguirre anymore. Unconsciously, Ennis wanted to work with him again. Ennis didn't want 'this thing' to be over when the summer ended. And the following days had been long and tiring, but Jack had felt happy. And when they'd finally ridden back to camp together three days later, Ennis had looked at him with something like tenderness, which had totally melted Jack's heart, and had even joked... Jack's only thought had been that those few days had been a few really perfect days.

A few days later, Ennis had surprised Jack one more time. He had come back to camp sooner than usual for supper, dismounting in a rush. Jack had gotten concerned and had been about to ask if something had happened with the sheep, but he had been cut off mid-sentence as Ennis had swept him into his arms and had kissed him hard, and deep, and Jack had been puzzled for an instant, 'cause this was usually his own game. He was the one always eager for it. Not that Ennis was reluctant to follow, surely not. But he usually had, let's say, more self-control. And when Ennis had released his lips to catch his breath and their eyes had met, Jack had been breathtaken and speechless. Ennis's eyes. Full of desire, possessiveness, and need; all three so intense it looked nearly painful. All for him. All because of him. No one had ever looked at him like that. And Jack knew Ennis had never watched someone else like that either, not even Alma, or there would have been NO WAY that Ennis would still have been a virgin when coming up here.

And Jack's knees had turned into mush. And Jack's heart had melted all over again. And a fire had started burning bright somewhere deep in Jack's guts. And as Ennis had started pushing Jack towards the tent, still kissing him hungrily, Jack's only thought had been "Wow", 'cause he had known then that it would be really special. Ennis always just felt more free, more safe, when in the tent. So when Ennis had laid him down and had started lavishing kisses and caresses over his all body while undressing him, Jack had stopped questioning what was happening and had decided he should just enjoy the moment and save it all in his mind, 'cause he was sure this was going to be a very precious memory.

And when Ennis had asked him in a very low voice to keep his eyes shut, Jack had guessed what would follow, and had been all warmed up inside, 'cause Ennis was about to break down another wall, one that Jack had been longing to see fall for weeks. And keeping his eyes shut had turned out to be very hot too, each of Ennis's moves coming as a breathtaking surprise, and Jack had soon been very needy. And indeed, Ennis had stopped him when he had started to roll over. So Jack hadn't been able to watch back, but he sure had felt Ennis's burning gaze fixed on him as Ennis had entered him this way for the first time. And Jack had soon been unable to stop gasping, then moaning, then cursing, as each of Ennis's thrusts had brushed right there. And knowing that Ennis was just drinking in every gasp and moan he made had been a huge turn-on.

It had been slow, and long, Ennis keeping Jack's hips in place when he had first tried to thrust back to get the tempo higher. And Jack had just surrendered, 'cause being Ennis's willful captive had turned out to be tortuously sweet. And because Jack had realized that this position allowed him to let his hands run free over Ennis's back, and Ennis's ass, and Jack had loved the way he could feel the muscles move under his fingers as Ennis worked on him. Until it all had become too much, and Jack had grasped Ennis's butt and had brought it forcefully close, letting out a "More. Now. Please." which Ennis hadn't been able to refuse. And Ennis had just slightly changed his angle, and had rolled his hips that much forward, and had slid that much deeper, and they had gone wild, Ennis finally letting Jack thrust back as he pounded down on him. It had been hard to stay blind, but it had been heaven, and Jack had been chanting Ennis's name on and on and on, trying to hang on as long as he could, but feeling the wave coming quickly to take him over. And Ennis had then stopped Jack's chant by kissing him hard, and Jack's mind had gone blank.

They had crashed down together, and afterwards Ennis had stayed on Jack, just snuggling and nuzzling and nibbling at his neck in silence for a very long time, not seeming to mind, this time, the wetness between them, and Jack had felt just happy, feeling both their breathing slow down, letting his legs fall back to each side of Ennis, still keeping his eyes shut, until Ennis had finally rolled to lay quietly at Jack's side. And Jack had been the one to finally break the silence, smiling.

"You know Cowboy, you gotta tell me what I've done to deserve this, so I can do it again. And again. On a daily basis."

But Ennis hadn't smiled back. He had just said that they should clean up, get dressed, and cook. So they had. And the whole time Ennis had looked... tense. And thoughtful. And that, in general, was not a good sign. But he had been actually answering Jack's routine questions about how the day had been while eating — though in a voice which seemed to come from a world very, very far from where they sat — and he hadn't been totally avoiding Jack's eyes — though through unreadable eyes — and that, in general, was not a bad sign.

So when they were done cleaning the dishes, Jack had grasped Ennis and had brought him back into the tent, needing to get this strange tension out of Ennis's face and body language. He had crawled on Ennis, getting his shirt and undershirt up, his tongue following, licking his way up Ennis's torso. And it had worked, Ennis starting to shiver under him. And when they had been fully undressed, Jack had decided that he should earn his promised nickname and had straddled Ennis's hips again, hushing out breathlessly "Want you" while guiding Ennis's cock to his gate.

But Ennis had said "No", and Jack had frozen. 'Cause Ennis had never said no. He had wanted to ask Ennis what was wrong, but the words just hadn't come out, couldn't come out, and Jack had been sure he was looking really stupid, mouth and eyes wide open in shock... and fear. And then Ennis had breathed out "I mean...", in a voice that sounded painful — quickly, head turned to the side to avoid Jack's gaze, mouth twitching and seeming unable to finish the sentence, which wasn't necessary anyway 'cause Jack had understood the unspoken words: "I want you".

Jack's mouth and eyes must have opened even wider in shock while Ennis had been chewing on his lips nervously, his whiskey eyes still unable to look at Jack. And Jack had just known that Ennis would never say it all, so he had softly asked: "You sure?"

Ennis's eyes had been pleading him to stop waiting for an answer and just get on with it, but Jack had kept waiting, 'cause he hadn't seen that one coming, and he wasn't going to rush in. Not that he hadn't thought about it a few times, but he had made his peace with the fact that it was just something which would not be happening before the turn of the next century, at least, and that it really didn't matter to him anyway. So now, Jack wanted to be sure that Ennis wanted it because he wanted it, and not because he thought he owed Jack something or any crap like that.

"You don't have to, you know."

Nothing but silence still. Then, after a while, Ennis had quickly let out his explanation, blushing, fixing his eyes again on the tent, on the covers, anywhere, as long as it wasn't on Jack, in a voice so low that Jack had had to focus hard to hear it.

"Been wondering for a while is all. And I saw you. You do seem to enjoy it, well, a lot."

Jack had released a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding, and he had been ready to bet Ennis could hear the relieved and tender smile in his voice as he had whispered back, leaning down on Ennis again.

"A lot. You're damn right about that one, Cowboy."

He had attacked Ennis's mouth fiercely and had felt his Cowboy tense somewhat under him. So then he had kissed Ennis more gently, until Ennis had relaxed a bit once more. And Jack had searched and found Ennis's gaze, and had held it.

"Just promise me you'll ask me to stop if it's getting uncomfortable for you in any way. I swear Ennis, I won't mind."

Ennis, of course, hadn't answered one word. But the look in his eyes had been enough to melt Jack's heart once more. Pure trust. And Jack had decided that he would take all the time that would be necessary, because he just had to make it good to Ennis. Because Jack knew that he would want this to happen again, if only to see this look in Ennis's eyes again.

It had felt just as sweet as their second night. Ennis's walls were all gone, and all that was left was Ennis needing him. So Jack had first kept on just kissing Ennis gently, relishing on the rare fact that Ennis was actually letting him lead the kiss, that Ennis's hands were not coming up to keep his mouth at the angle Ennis seemed to like best but were starting lazy tiny circles on Jack's lower back. Jack had kissed Ennis hungrily but softly for a long time, until Ennis had started thrusting up against him.

Jack then had followed his usual path of kisses down Ennis's body, feeling Ennis entirely relax under the familiar touch, until it had all become too much, and Ennis had been all tensed again — but in a good way, this time. And when Jack had swallowed, he had known that Ennis was not thinking anymore about what was to come, at least not for now. And when Ennis, following their usual routine, had taken care of him in the same way, Jack had thanked thanked any god who might have been listening to the prayers he couldn't even properly form in his thoughts, 'cause the idea of what was maybe to come had made him so hard he had needed a release to re-focus.

Some time later, Jack had rolled back on top. And had kissed Ennis more hungrily now, while brushing their lower bellies greedily together, until Ennis had moaned. Then Jack had pushed himself on all fours, as Ennis always did, leaving some space between them so that Ennis could turn under him. And Ennis had seemed to freeze.

"Just want to touch your back, Ennis. Just your back."

Then Ennis had rolled over, granting Jack access to his back. His well-shaped, though not too muscular, freckled here and there, gorgeous bare back, which Jack had been able to see while 'swimming' or feel while 'wrestling', but had never been able to really touch until their sweet intercourse before supper. Strange as it might have seem, 'cause Jack's back hadn't had any secret from Ennis for weeks now, it had simply never happened.

So now, Jack had wanted to find out as much as possible about the very nice back exposed under him. And as he had started searching with his lips and tongue and hands for what Ennis liked, Ennis's back had felt strong, but had turned out to get very soft-skinned the lower Jack went. And very sensitive too, as Jack had hoped it would be, knowing his sure was.

Judging by Ennis's tiny noises, Jack had learned that Ennis really got turned-on if Jack let his hands travel firmly up and down his spine while kissing, licking and nibbling at the back of his neck — particularly at the base of his neck to be precise. Jack couldn't get enough of those little half-swallowed moans, and of the way Ennis angled his neck down to grant Jack access to as much flesh as possible up there.

At some point, Jack had started to let his hands wander lower before traveling back up again, and Ennis hadn't seemed to mind. So Jack had started then to massage Ennis's buttocks longer and longer, while keeping busy in Ennis's neck. When Ennis had let out a rasped "Jack", Jack had trailed up to whisper in his ear while nibbling hotly on his earlobe.

"There's a spot down inside Ennis, a spot you don't know about, and that, like you said, makes me enjoy it all a lot. I'd like to find it for you... Just a finger Ennis, I swear, nothing more if you don't like it."

Ennis hadn't answered, but he hadn't seemed to want Jack to stop either, 'cause he had been pushing his backside into Jack's hands, and Jack had known that was the 'yes' Ennis would never be able to utter. He had then moistened two of his fingers and had brought them slowly at Ennis's gate, the way he used to do for himself. He had gone back to ravishing Ennis's neck with his mouth, while just twirling his thumb around down there until he had felt Ennis relax some more. Then he had pushed one finger inside, slowly. Ennis had gone quieter, but still hadn't made like he wanted Jack to stop, so Jack went on, in and out, deeper each time. When Ennis had started again to moan, Jack's finger had started to move faster too, trying different angles, and Jack's tongue had licked its way across Ennis's jawline until it had found Ennis's mouth, and had plunged inside. Ennis had answered the kiss ardently, and Jack had then pushed a second finger inside, slowly again at first, then more quickly.

Jack had known when he had found it. Ennis had let out a muffled "Huh" into his mouth, and had gone completely still for a second. Jack had done his best to brush Ennis each time on the right spot, and Ennis had started to undulate under his touch. His fingers were going easily now in and out, even while he scissored them, so Jack went again to Ennis's ear and whispered feverishly "Ennis... Ennis?" — needing to ask, but without actually asking the question he didn't believe Ennis would be able to hear aloud.

Ennis's eyes had stayed squeezed shut, and only a kind of gurgle had escaped his throat, but he had pushed himself against Jack's hips, so Jack had brought them both up on all fours, placing himself between Ennis's knees. He had kept fingering Ennis with his right hand and had brought his left hand up and down and around Ennis's swollen cock, just a few strokes, but enough to make Ennis shiver and let out a gasped "God, Jack". Then Jack had brought his left hand close to his mouth and had let some saliva silently fall into his hand to mix with Ennis's precum, instinctively not wanting Ennis to hear him spit. He had coated himself, then had withdrawn his fingers. He had placed himself at Ennis's entrance and had pushed forward, feeling himself slide in inch by inch, pinning Ennis's hips in place, a rasped, low, long "Ja-a-ack" falling from Ennis's lips, not sounding as painful as Jack had feared it would. Jack had kept going slow and then had held still when he had been settled.

And then it all had dawned on him. He had been so focused on making Ennis comfortable that his own senses had been sort of subdued. But now, he was inside. Inside Ennis. For the first time. And it was so warm, and so tight, and oohhhh so good. Jack had felt grateful that he had build up some stamina this last month, 'cause he had been certain he would already have exploded otherwise. It was just... too much.

Ennis had instinctively clenched around him and Jack had shivered and had known he wasn't gonna last long. "Ennis." Jack had started to move, slow, and had heard Ennis grunt, then had felt him push back and clench again as he had brushed against his sweet spot, and Jack had been lost. "Ennis." He had tried not to pound too hard, and he had brought his hand around again to stroke Ennis, wanting Ennis to enjoy it and unsure if the only pressure on his prostate would be enough for the first time. He had heard himself moan "Ennis" over and over, had heard Ennis's gasps and gnarls, until Ennis had come in his hand with his usual "Jack", clenching even harder around him, bringing Jack with him over the edge.

Jack had slipped out and had laid himself upon Ennis when Ennis had kind of collapsed under him, cuddling close, taking Ennis's hands in his own. Ennis of course hadn't articulated one word. Jack hadn't thought he would anyway. Their still hard breathing was the only sound in the tent, echoing loud around them and warming Jack's heart as he relished in the simple fact that Ennis was still allowing him to lay just there — on top of him and fingers curled into his fingers... That spoke enough, and loud enough, huh. So yeah, Jack hadn't minded one bit about Ennis's silence.

Soon, Jack had realized that Ennis had passed out, worn-out both physically and — he guessed, even more — mentally. He had stayed a long time in the tent, watching Ennis peacefully asleep next to him. But he hadn't wanted to wake him, so at some point he'd grabbed his clothes and had gone out of the tent to dress, and had stayed near their fire for a while, playing it again and again in his mind, hoping and needing to know that Ennis would be all right, but fearing Ennis's reaction the moment he would awaken, remembering their first night, and how Ennis had been the morning after — this could freak him out even more when realization hit him, huh...

Some time had passed, and it had been getting late, so Jack had decided that he would just leave in the tent the short but sweet note that he'd prepared and go to the sheep if Ennis didn't wake up soon, 'cause it seemed Ennis could sleep all night, and Jack sure didn't want anything to happen to the sheep tonight, knowing Ennis would see it as a clear sign from above that what he had let happen was just unforgivable, as sweet and precious as it was to Jack's heart.

But just then, Jack had heard Ennis putting his clothes on in the tent, and Ennis had come out. And Ennis had spoken softly, words for him alone to hear — "You're sleeping on your feet like a horse. My mama used to say that to me when l was little" — bringing him close, one arm around his neck, one on his waist, and Jack had just leaned against him, wanting time to freeze on this moment; closing his eyes, feeling so utterly blessed, listening to Ennis whispering and humming an old song in his ears while petting his coat. And all along, one thought in his mind: Forever, just like this. Forever.

Of course, time hadn't frozen, and far too soon Ennis had ended it, grasping Jack even closer for one last second, promising "See you in the morning". And then he had been gone, as usual not glancing back as he had saddled up Cigar Butt and ridden away. And for the first time, Jack had wondered if Ennis never watched him when leaving camp not because he felt uncomfortable about them, but because he wouldn't be able to leave him alone for the night otherwise.

It had been sweet. A hug. A real hug. Not a buddy's; a real tender lover's hug. No lust, but a real need to feel, to touch, to relish in each other's scent and presence, to cuddle and hold close. They hadn't talked about it, but that hadn't mattered. As usual, Ennis's actions told Jack more than a thousand-page book could, and Jack had known that Ennis was all right. That they would be all right. 'Cause he had made it there... Jack had known he'd been in Ennis's comfort zone for weeks, but now he knew he had gotten in the most closed-up place too; in the safe zone. Jack was now allowed to see the whole of Ennis, including his tender side, always so repressed and hidden under all those well-built walls.

And Jack had wondered all night if he should now try and talk to Ennis about the future he wanted for them. The future he had started dreaming about nearly right after meeting Ennis. The future he had started believing in after Ennis's little slip about working together again. The future which now felt so close, so possible, if he only dared to extend his hand and grasp it. So yeah, Jack would give it a try. They still had a month up here. And if Jack used it well and carefully, he could maybe make Ennis see that they didn't need to part after it. Nor ever after.

Of course, all those dreams had been shattered the very next morning. Aguirre had come again and had told him he wanted them down. A big nasty storm was coming, and he didn't want to take the risk and lose even more sheep than the year before. And Jack had felt miserable, but there had been nothing to do about it, huh...

He had already started packing when Ennis had arrived for breakfast. And all the sweet talking he had hoped for just went up in smoke as he had told Ennis their job was done, 'cause they both knew this meant that their time was up. And when Ennis had complained about Aguirre cutting them out of a month's pay, Jack had hoped this was an opened door, and had taken it, saying he could lend him some money. 'Cause this meant they would have to meet again, for Ennis to repay it, right? But Ennis hadn't seen it that way, and had just gotten angry at him, and Jack had understood that it was just because it was easier for Ennis to be angry at him than at Aguirre, or at himself. Ennis was sure as Hell seeing this as God's punishment for last night, though he would never acknowledge it openly. So when Ennis had just left him there, escaping to brood farther away, Jack had let him be, and had finished packing everything on his own, hoping Ennis would quiet down if he just gave him enough time to let the steam out.

When everything had been packed and there hadn't been any excuse left to delay their departure, Jack had approached Ennis. Hoping to lighten up his mood, Jack had taken his lasso and had captured a brooding, sitting Ennis playfully, hushing out softly: "Time to get going, Cowboy."

Ennis had stood up and started to move towards their horses, looking at the ground and automatically tucking his shirt back neatly in his jeans while walking. This little gesture — 'checking the fences', as Jack had labeled it in his mind after their first week up here — had been too much for Jack. Just like the way Ennis wore his hat, this was 100% pure Ennis in one move. Jack had seen Ennis tuck his shirt in his jeans unconsciously about a thousand times now; before saddling, after dismounting, every time he stood up from wherever they had been sitting, and of course after each of their couplings. And knowing this time would be the last time he got to see it was just too painful.

One more time. I need him one more time. A proper goodbye, at least, and maybe a chance to tell him about what we could have, what we could be. It's now or never. He won't hear me once we're back down there.

So Jack had used his lasso again, throwing it around Ennis's feet and bringing him to the ground, hoping a good wrestling time would get Ennis to surrender to him once more, laughing as they had rolled and rolled on the grass. Jack, though, had realized soon enough that this time, it was different.

"This ain't no rodeo, Cowboy!"

Jack's heart had stopped. This wasn't Ennis. At least, not the Ennis he knew. Making fun of what Jack had been longing to hear for days, denying the promised 'Rodeo' nickname, calling him 'Cowboy' instead, and with a sharp edge in his voice, something like cruel, bitter, cold hatred. No, Ennis wasn't playing at all. He looked really pissed. It was all turning harsh: Jack actually had to fight Ennis off him, nothing like their usual groping around. Then it had happened. Without noticing it, Jack had shoved his knee or his elbow — he wasn't sure — at Ennis's nose, and had been able to get out of Ennis's grip.

First thing he had seen getting up had been that Ennis was bleeding, a lot, and though they had both known it would soon stop, Jack had felt bad, and concerned. He had flown back close to Ennis, bringing his own shirt on Ennis's nose to stop the red flow, whispering soothing words. But Ennis hadn't gotten calmed down by the unexpected and accidental blow, and the only reward Jack had gotten for his gentle care had been a very hard punch to his face, which had sent him flat on the ground. Ennis had then just hurried away without so much as a glance back, leaving Jack there, with a sore cheekbone; and worse, with a broken heart.

Ennis was freaking out, Jack had guessed. He seemed to be suddenly acting as if all that had happened up here had been a mistake, a huge mistake; and that Jack was the one to blame for it too. He seemed to believe that he had to put it all behind him, fast, as though if he moved just fast enough, that "thing" wouldn't be catching up, and he would have the normal life he had planned and which was waiting for him down there.

Jack had known all along that there was a huge chance that Ennis would go flying away from him at the end of the summer, but he had hoped that maybe, maybe, it could turn out another way, because Ennis had gotten sort of more and more open towards him with each passing day. But the harsh reality had hit him then harder than Ennis's punch. Jack had felt utterly helpless and lost, the only things playing in front of his eyes now the broken pictures of his dreams, shattered and blown away with the wind, as he couldn't help but realize that Ennis had explicitly made a promise down there, and that he would keep it, of course — Ennis sure looked like someone people could rely on to keep his promises — and that, to be honest, Ennis had never promised him anything.

So in the end, Jack had been so lovesick from the very start, maybe he had only seen what he had wanted to see all along... That thought had stabbed through him swiftly but viciously, leaving him bleeding raw until he was nothing more than an empty shell with blinking eyes.

So when he had finally felt able to stand on his feet again, Jack had gone back to 'camp', now wanting to leave this place quickly too. This place, which had held his dreams for two months, but which now was turning against him, every little detail hurting, 'cause here they'd sat under this tree, and here they'd talked against that log, and here they'd stumbled playfully to the ground, and here... And so on. The whole place had seemed to be mockingly laughing at him, and Jack had had to lower his eyes to his feet not to go mad. That's when he had seen it. Ennis's bloodied shirt. Harshly thrown in the grass and forgotten there for sure, 'cause Ennis was now wearing his other shirt, preparing Cigar Butt for their last ride; checking the saddle, petting him and whispering soothing nothings to him, as he always did... As if nothing had happened.

Jack had realized he was feeling jealous of Cigar Butt — the horse was having a sweet goodbye, at least. But the sight of his Cowboy finally back to his usual self had melted something inside him, as it always did, and Jack hadn't been able to feel angry anymore. After all, if Ennis had really felt that mad at him, he probably wouldn't have been waiting for Jack to come out of his stupor but would have just ridden away at Hell's speed, huh...

And Jack had suddenly felt sad, utterly sad. He had looked once more at the abandoned shirt and had decided to keep it, as a proof that it hadn't all been a dream, that they had existed, even briefly; that they had shared something real. He knew it had been real for him. He believed it had been real for Ennis too. It had to have been — Ennis's eyes could never lie, right? He had taken a clean shirt too and had changed quickly, throwing his bloodied shirt on Ennis's and shoving them both hurriedly into his bag. Ennis hadn't noticed anything. Then Jack had started to silently saddle his mare too.

"Looks like we gotta go, huh, Jack."

Ennis's voice, nearly a whisper, through lips even more clipped shut than ever, quick and seemingly uncaring, but full of unspoken guilt, uneasy, reaching out for him. Not really an apology, but soothing anyway because Jack knew that it was one indeed. Jack sighed.

"Yeah, Friend, time to go."

Jack hadn't been able to let the 'Cowboy' nickname out, it was just too intimate. But he had wanted Ennis to understand that he was forgiven somehow, and he had known that with this 'Friend', Ennis would understand.

The whole way down had been silent, sending each other quick glances that spoke loudly even though they never crossed. They had both made as if they weren't noticing the other one's gaze and had just taken turns allowing their eyes to watch each other, without ever meeting. Yes, Jack had understood, it had been real for Ennis too. But they were going back to the world, the world which didn't want them to be. At least, not in Ennis's mind. Ennis, always so dutiful, and doing the fucking right things in the fucking right way, no matter what. No matter what.

Finally, they were down. Aguirre had acted exactly how Jack had known he would — that is to say, just like the asshole he was. Saying that some of the sheep were not his. This was true, but Jack knew that they had done their best with the circumstances; it wasn't their fault, after all, if Aguirre hadn't found it necessary to refresh the markings before sending them up. And saying the count wasn't right — while the herders were still busy counting. Asshole. None of them had replied though; what could they say. They had been paid, and as far as Aguirre was concerned, they had both ceased to exist right then.

Once out of the trailer, Ennis had asked Jack if he needed any help with his pick-up. Jack had been surprised, first because Ennis hadn't seemed to notice the poor state of his truck when he'd arrived that first day, and second because it felt like Ennis didn't want to leave him yet. Though it had hurt, because they'd both known it was only delaying the inevitable, it had been sweet too. Of course, neither of them could pretend very long that they didn't know how to fix it, and soon the engine was roaring again. This was it then, their goodbye.

"I can't believe I left my damn shirt up there."

Was Jack hearing what he thought he was hearing? Could it be that Ennis was now hoping that he had taken his shirt, maybe as a token too of their time together? Jack had wondered if he should give it back. But then he had remembered that Ennis was going to marry Alma, and how could he explain that he wanted to keep an old, ruined, bloodied shirt, huh. It would end in a trash bin. And that, Jack couldn't let happen. Ennis had no place to call his own; Jack had his own bedroom in his parents' home, and even if he had to move one day, that bedroom would always be his. The shirts would always be safe. He would keep them for them both. But damn, if Ennis didn't want to leave yet, if Ennis wanted something to remember too, maybe, maybe... Jack had to know.

"You gonna do this again next summer?"

"Well, maybe not. Like I said, me and Alma is getting married in November. So... I'll try to get something on a ranch, I guess. You?"

Alma. Only the second time he'd heard that name since he'd met Ennis. But that name was sealing his destiny. Or not? There was still a MAYBE, and that was all Jack had heard. It wasn't a straight clear NO WAY, right?

"Might go up to my daddy's place and give him a hand through the winter. I might be back. If the Army don't get me."

One heavy second of silence, glances exchanged, but with the damn sun in the way, you couldn't really tell what you were actually seeing...

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, huh?"

"Right."

And that had been it. Ennis had started walking away, and Jack had started his drive back home, looking for as long as he had been able to in his rear view mirror at Ennis, getting smaller and smaller, until he just had disappeared, and Jack had known that he had left a piece of his heart behind him.

The end of the summer had gone in a blur. Jack hadn't noticed the time passing by, only thing he had seemed to be able to do had been sitting in his bedroom holding the shirts for hours. The year had passed quickly too. Jack had helped his father at the ranch, had lost most of the rodeos he'd participated in, without really caring about it all. Then it had been summer again and, full of hopes, he had gone to Signal again. But there had been nothing — no one — there for him to find.

He'd decided then that the only thing he still had some interest for was rodeoing, and had left his parents' home to run the full circuit. He had been stunned when, one night, one of the rodeo boys after a beer had made some advances to him, had just thought "Why not?" and had played along. It hadn't felt the same though. Not that time, and not the few other times it had happened. He had been with a few girls too, particularly after a winning ride, 'cause he was then often a bit drunk with the celebrating, and it was difficult then to turn the offers down.

Until he'd met Lureen. A blur of red, a wink, and he had known with her it would be different, somehow. She had a fire within, and a need to be herself, both the same as his, and they seemed to match quite well. Though not as well as Ennis, who was still the only one in his dreams. But Lureen was fine, and funny, and then quickly and suddenly pregnant, and he had done 'the right thing' and had married her. And the fact that her daddy was really wealthy and that he got a real job then was handy too. He was by then busted up from rodeoing.

Of course, LD hated him. No one would be good enough for his sacred daughter, but Jack was even less than not good enough: he was a 'Rodeo fuck-up', to quote Ennis's father's words. Jack didn't like the old man either, but he had to cope with him, for Lureen's sake. There were days he wondered if Lureen hadn't picked him just for that, 'cause she knew he wouldn't crawl at his father's feet like the whole city did, 'cause she knew he would stand his ground, and hers too if needed.

The bastard, though, had found a way to get constantly on Jack's nerves. He was calling him "Rodeo". Jack wondered if his eyes had betrayed him the first time LD had said it. He believed they had, even if LD couldn't know the real reason behind his hurt. LD otherwise would have tried something else. There had been some others nicknames before, "Jacky", "Twist", even "J Boy", but none had been used for long, none until "Rodeo"...

So now, in his pick-up, nearing Riverton, Jack was wishing for one little thing. He wanted to hear one "Rodeo" from Ennis, at last; just one, in that deep, low, tender, rumbling tone that he kept hearing in his dreams. YOU BET. He believed he would.