Richard woke with a groan, turning his face further into the pillows as his stomach churned, along with his memories. He'd like to think that tryst in the field was a dream, but the ache in his hips and dull stretched feeling of his ass told him it wasn't. A whine of mortification slipped out. What must Hank think of him? Of how he'd whined and moaned, eagerly bouncing his ass on his cock, begging for more. Heat warmed his cheeks as he remembered the pictures Hank had taken and what he might do with them, though he'd always seemed the decent type. He doubted he'd use them for any nefarious purposes. Bile rose in his throat, forcing him from his bed and into the ensuite.
His eyes streamed as he emptied his sensitive stomach, noticing for the first time that it was light outside. That made sense, considering how late he'd gone to bed. Hank had walked him all the way to his door before leaving him with another breathless kiss that reddened his lips. It seemed once was enough for one night, which seemed reasonable at their age. Richard had somehow managed to stumble his way up to bed and out of his clothes, though he was still wearing his socks and garters, along with his boxers.
He groaned as he settled on his ass. The tiles were cold even through his boxers, and his head throbbed as he leaned on the edge of the toilet. He wasn't sure if he'd throw up again or not, but he didn't feel like moving yet. Wiping his lips, he squinted at the textured glass. From the brightness outside, he guessed it was late morning or early afternoon, which meant the chickens were overdue their feed. It wouldn't be fair to leave them much longer, so after a few more minutes, when he was sure his stomach had settled, he moved to the shower.
Washing off the grime of the night before felt good, especially when he realised he had stray bits of hay stuck between his cheeks. He almost blushed as he reached back to finger and tease the tight hole, feeling it twitch at the memory of Hank's cock. His ass wasn't the only thing that twitched. With a light huff, he turned the dial cold and gritted his teeth, shivering beneath the icy spray. He was in a low mood as he climbed out and towelled off. How would he face Hank the next time he saw him? The very thought made his insides churn. Just because they'd fucked didn't mean it meant anything, right? He shivered as he recalled exactly how they'd fucked. His knees still burned from the dry hay, each bounce of Hank's belly sending him lurching so far forward he would have fallen if not for the bruising grip on his hips.
Seeing Hank again worried him, and that worry only increased as he looked out of his kitchen window and saw Connor in the yard, pacing around in circles like he was waiting for something. His head looked up occasionally, turning to his house like he was looking for him. The thought made Richard swallow. Maybe he was waiting for him. Hank usually joined him at the chicken coop when he went down there, so he was probably waiting for him to feed the chickens. That was no good! How was he going to avoid Hank if Connor was right there to bark and draw attention to his arrival?
Maybe he could sneak in. There was a door inside that led to the garage. He could slip in, fill the feed bucket, run into the coop, toss the feed, and run out again. Hank wouldn't even notice. By the time he was in his boots and out the door, he could be safely back in his house. With that in mind, Richard padded through to the garage and filled the bucket. To make it quicker, he'd use the back door by the kitchen and run straight down, but he had to make sure the coast was clear first. Looking through the kitchen window, he squinted and looked around for any sign of Hank. It looked like the coast was clear.
Alright...Just get down the steps, open the coop, toss the bucket, and run back. It seemed easy enough in his head. Having hesitated for so long, Richard took one last look through the kitchen window before taking off through the hall and out the back door. The sound of Connor's barks made his stomach clench as he threw the pen door open and flung the feed across the ground, much to Nines' indignation. Without further ado, he shut the gate and raced back to the house, slamming the door with a bang and leaning against it. Did he see me? The thought plagued him as he slipped out of his boots and returned to the kitchen.
Looking out, he could see Hank coming across the yard, though it was unclear whether he'd seen him or not. Upon reaching the coop, he laid a hand on Connor's head and looked up, making Richard's heart pound as those gentle blue eyes found his kitchen window. Richard dropped like a rock, heart racing as he huddled below the sink. What the fuck am I doing? He couldn't believe he was hiding. Embarrassment lit his cheeks as he crawled into the hall and sat with his back against the wall. He couldn't believe it. He'd really crawled on his hands and knees, hiding in his own house, to avoid Hank Anderson.
Unsure what to do with himself, he remained there with his back against the wall. Maybe in a while, he'd be willing to face him. Perhaps in a day or two, when things weren't so...raw. Stress ate his insides as he sat there staring at the wall opposite, tracing the grain on the wooden panels. Restless and antsy, there was only one thing he could think to do. Riding always made him feel better. Even being near the horses steadied his nerves and calmed him down. With that in mind, he headed out to the stables through the front door. The smell of hay and horses instantly soothed him, making him sigh in relief as he walked along the stalls, petting each horse he came to.
"I know, I'm sorry." There was a thud on the stall door as the dappled grey mare kicked the wood and bowed her head in agitation. More snorts and whinnies shortly followed as the residents complained. They were usually out in the fields by now, and they hadn't even had their morning feed. Since they hadn't scheduled a test run, Allen wasn't set to arrive until after twelve, which at least told him it was before noon. Gathering the nose bags, Richard filled and fitted them one by one, giving the horses something to munch on as he opened the stalls and got their harnesses ready. "Come on, Cindy-Lue. Good girl." The first mare to be led out was a soft bay colour with a black mane and tail. She was soft tempered, easily accepting the head harness and following as he led her across the yard, enjoying the affectionate pats on her neck and flank with a swish of her tail.
Having thrown up his last meal and not replaced it with anything, Richard was feeling pretty feeble by the third horse. His arms and legs felt shaky, and he could feel himself paling. The fifth horse seemed to notice it too as she snorted and nosed his chest. He gave the chestnut mare a withering look as he stroked her nose. Horses really were the most wonderful and perceptive creatures. Unfortunately for him, they weren't the only ones. By the time he returned for the sixth horse, Allen had arrived, and the moment he laid eyes on him, his brow creased. Richard balked as he walked over with his hands on his hips, looking expectant.
"You're sick." It was easy to think that, what with the pasty skin and vague trembling.
"I'm not sick, I'm just...hungover." Richard looked away, doing his best to avoid the scrutiny. It wouldn't be the first time he'd lied to get out of a lecture. Meeting his steely gaze, Richard huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I went out with Hank last night." That piqued his interest even more, making Richard wince as he realised his friend would doubtless ask for more details. It wasn't every day that Richard Perkins left his house to go drinking with another man. The pink across his neck seemed to give him away as Allen's worry softened into a smirk.
"Drinking...Really?" The smugness was unbearable as he walked a circle around him, looking him up and down. He couldn't see any notable marks, but he was wearing jeans and a shirt that was buttoned to the collar. Feeling his scrutiny made Richard squirm. He hadn't checked, but he didn't think any marks had been left on his neck, though he knew there were fingerprints on his hips and shoulder, probably his arms as well. His skin bruised easily, and Hank had warned him it would be a good fucking. "Is that all?" Richard didn't even need to say it out loud. The flinch and evasiveness gave him away. "Good boy!" It was about time he got some.
"Shut up!" Richard punched his shoulder, but Allen did no more than laugh at the feeble impact. "Fuck, what am I going to do? We're neighbours! I can't avoid him forever!" If Allen was going to know about it, the least he could do was help him. Allen's brow furrowed at that, unsure what the problem was. They were both single adults. Why was it such a big deal? So they fucked! What did it matter?
"Why would you avoid him in the first place? It's just sex." Allen shrugged nonchalantly, cocking his head as Richard grew even more uncomfortable. "It was just sex, right?"
"I-I don't know!" He hadn't had a reliable long-term partner before. How was he supposed to know? How did you even go about asking that sort of thing? Allen sighed at his cluelessness, but waited for him to continue anyway. "We went for dinner, had a few drinks and...you know..." He couldn't even look at him as he told him. "He fucked me on a stack of hay bales!" Richard winced at the snort that wrought. That was far more daring than the Richard he knew, so he could only imagine Hank had taken the lead there. Well, good for Hank. It was about time someone made his friend loosen up.
"Sounds like sex to me." If anything, Richard looked even more troubled by that news. "It wasn't just sex to you?"
"N-no, it was..." He didn't exactly expect anything more, but he'd never done this sort of thing before. Not with someone he'd see every day, and not with anyone he considered a friend. He hadn't had time to figure out the sort of relationship he had with Hank. Since they'd had sex, there was definitely a certain level of attraction there, but how deep did it go? How the fuck did we get from worrying over gay roosters to this?
"Are you sure?" The evasiveness in his eyes was enough of an answer to make Allen sigh and run a hand over his eyes. "So, what are you going to do?" That was the problem. He didn't know what to do! What did people do at times like this? How could he bring it up without it getting weird? Would Hank be receptive to more meetups? Was he interested in more than that? The thought of actually seeing him again churned his stomach and made him gag. The moment he slapped a hand over his mouth, Allen's firm hand landed on his shoulder. "Maybe you should think about this later. You look like the breeze will knock you over!" He felt like it, too.
Richard had little choice but to go along with it as Allen steered him back to the house, nagging him the whole way across the yard and bundling him inside. He was rather firmly ordered into his pyjamas and bed, and within an hour he was settled on the pillows enjoying a light slumber. It was really no surprise that Allen stuck around the house longer that day, not only seeing to the horses, but seeing to him as well. He cooked a large pot of thick vegetable soup, enough to see him through a few days if he continued to feel ill. It wasn't unheard of for a hangover to wipe him out for two or three days, and he looked pretty feeble.
At around three o'clock, Allen interrupted his nap to bring in a table tray with a large bowl of soup and crusted bread and butter. A tall glass of water sat on the side, and Allen left another bottle by his bed in case he needed more. Having thrown up, he was probably dehydrated. Sitting him up, Allen lingered, sitting on the edge of the bed with his own bowl of soup to keep him company. Rather than taking him back to Hank, he checked to see if he needed him to stick around or do more over the next day or two.
"A-actually, there is another job...The chickens will need an evening feed, and..." Allen nodded his understanding. Being so feeble, it was reasonable that Richard should stay in bed and rest. With that decided, and their lunch soon finished, Allen left him to get more rest. Unfortunately, since his nap, Richard felt wide awake, and found it quite hard to fall asleep again. Opening the window, he looked down into the yard to see Connor running in circles and the lumbering Saint Bernard lounging on the porch. Hank was also on the porch, though he couldn't see what he was doing. Hoping he hadn't been seen, he returned to bed, leaving the window open to enjoy the warm breeze.
Closing his eyes, Richard listened to the sound of the farm. The chickens were clucking softly as they scratched about pecking the dirt, occasionally interrupted by a lively bark as Connor played. In the distance, he could hear the baying of sheep and horses, and trees rustling in the breeze. It was peaceful. Quiet. He sighed softly, enjoying the cool sheets and plush pillows, savouring the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face. Now alone, he let memories of the night before wash over him. Hank was right when he said he'd never been fucked. Nothing else even came close.
The feeling of his tongue in his ass, and the way his fingers had gently pried him open, made his cock hard again just thinking about it. He squirmed on the sheets, biting his lip as he looked towards the door. I can't just...What if Allen came back? He was probably still in the house somewhere. The sky had dimmed a little since he was sent to bed, and he soon became aware of voices outside. A low sound caught in his throat as he realised it was Hank and Allen. He couldn't exactly make out the words, but Hank was probably asking why he wasn't in the coop. With Allen safely outside, Richard slipped a hand beneath the elastic of his pants to palm himself, straining his ears to catch the rumble of Hank's voice.
He could almost hear it clear as day; the deep grumble, those little nicknames. Biting his lip, Richard did his best to quash the sounds in his throat. If he could hear them, then they'd probably hear him if he slipped up. Opening his mouth, he panted softly, pulling his cock out and slipping a hand up his top as he parted his thighs. He started slow, circling a nipple and thumbing his slick tip. The memory of rough whiskers on his skin made him shiver, fingers tightening on his cock as he jerked himself. He still remembered Hank's words from the night before, his name hovering on the tip of his tongue. Henry! Gasping a breath, Richard looked towards the open window, quietly pining as he stroked his cock and finally pinched his hardened nipple.
The smallest sound fled his lips, though he dared go no louder than that. It would be embarrassing to have the two of them hear him like this. The thought had him rocking his hips slowly, quietly wondering what would happen if Allen wasn't there and it was just Hank. What would Hank do if he heard his name fall from his lips in a pitiful whine? If he heard him begging? The thought had him closing his eyes and kicking the sheets lower, trembling as the breeze teased his dripping tip. He couldn't help himself as he imagined Hank climbing the stairs, boots clunking steadily through the hall until he reached his room and slipped inside.
Surely, the sight of him lying wanton with his legs spread and his cock already dripping would be enough to lure him closer. Breathless kisses and rough hands filled his mind, and how he might tease him. Quietly asking what he wanted when he already knew, fingers teasingly circling his ring until he begged and felt them slide inside. Fuck he wanted it. The thought of Hank giving it to him had him biting his lip to stifle the little moans that threatened to fly out. Henry! Henry-please! He gasped, quickening his pace as he got closer. The memory of his ass stretching around Hank's cock was almost enough to get him there. How it stroked in all the right places and sank so deep he thought he might burst. He came as he remembered how Hank had lifted him, sinking in to the hilt and holding him wide open, bouncing him on his cock.
"Ah-fuck-" He managed to keep Hank's name from his lips, but he was pretty sure that wanton sound had carried through the open window. Feeling himself flush, he hurriedly padded to the bathroom to wash his sullied hand. Splashing his face, he returned to the bed, still panting as he listened for any sound outside. The voices were still there, talking as they had before. Maybe they hadn't heard. That was all he could hope for as he bundled beneath the covers and buried his face in the pillows.