It was a hot afternoon in late spring. A slight breeze wafted gently through the open church doors. His shirt off, Josiah was busy putting a coat of whitewash on the walls. He knew there had been little respect for the church before he'd come along, but it always surprised him just how little.
He reached up, feeling the incoming wind against his back, as he reached for a spot high up on the wall. He could sense that he wasn't alone, even as he heard a floorboard creak gently. He glanced over his shoulder and continued working.
"Chris," he said, acknowledging the new visitor.
"Josiah," the man replied quietly.
The silence between them seemed to drift lazily along with the gentle gusts that swirled around the large room. Josiah continued to work, waiting patiently for Chris to say what he wanted. Not that he needed him to. He knew Chris better than Chris was willing to believe. He could tell that right now the blond sought companionship. Someone to talk to, maybe even someone to drink with.
Josiah glanced at him again. Chris just stood there, unmoving, his eyes slowly roaming around the sanctuary.
"If you'd like to lend a hand, you're more than welcome," Josiah said, plastering another hole.
"Idle hands...?" Chris began, forcing a thin smile.
Josiah shrugged. "There's another bucket of whitewash in that corner there. Might wanna take off that shirt. 'Less you like polka dots."
Chris quickly removed his shirt, picked up a bucket and brush and knelt near Josiah. The two worked in silence for awhile.
"Ah!" the big man exclaimed suddenly. He stepped back to wipe a spatter of wash out of his eye. He shook his head and blinked. Chris was crouched in front of him, applying long, smooth brush strokes to the wall.
Josiah had never noticed Chris's build before. Now he found himself looking appreciatively at the lean, smooth-muscled back and long torso that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans to the narrow hips and round--
The older man shook his head sharply and cleared his throat. "You come by because you felt a powerful need to whitewash? Or is somethin' on yer mind?"
Chris paused and stared at the wall in front of him.
"Thinkin' of the past?" Josiah prompted.
Chris sighed. "Some days...I dunno...After all this time...Sometimes it just gets real bad..." He stopped.
"Three years ain't so long."
Chris nodded. He pointed to spot to his right. "You missed a spot up there."
"Ain't too late, if that's what you want. A man your age could meet a nice widow--"
Chris shook his head. "Sometimes I think that might happen, but…most times…Most times it just ain't so, Josiah." He sighed in resignation. "No…No, those days are long gone. Missed another spot."
The older man ignored that and put a reassuring hand on Chris's bare shoulder, noticing for the first time the hardness and heat there. His palm felt like it was on fire as his fingertips pressed against the tight, unyielding muscle and bone.
"Why'n't you stop that fer now. Feelin' at all thirsty? I got some whiskey..."
Chris stood and followed Josiah to his room off to the side of the sanctuary. "Sounds fine to me."
The two men sat side by side on the bed, their backs to the wall, as Josiah poured out a generous drink for Chris and one for himself. "Here's to..."
Chris waited. Finally the two began to laugh.
"Here's to us, then," offered Chris.
"I'll drink to that!" Josiah took a big swallow. The liquor slid down smooth and sharp, like it always did, lighting the way to his gut. He sighed appreciatively, holding the bottle up invitingly. Chris held out his glass.
The pattern repeated itself till the halfway through the second bottle. By now, both of them were feeling the warmth of friendship a little deeper than before.
"Yer a good man, Josiah," slurred Chris. "A real good man."
"Well, I thank you, Mr. Larabee. I'm obliged to say the same."
"You bet you are!" Chris grinned drunkenly, then frowned.
"Somethin' wrong?"
Chris twisted his torso. "Cramp in my back--get 'em sometimes--"
"Hold still." The older man shifted so that he was facing Chris's back. With strong, practiced fingers, he began to massage the smooth, taut flesh. He worked methodically, feeling Chris's entire body relax, sinew by sinew, under his hands. The warmth of the liquor gave way to a heat that now spread throughout his body, like a fire that had been stoked. He leaned slowly toward Chris and whispered, "How does that feel?"
Chris moaned softly, pressing his back against Josiah's hands. Josiah moved his hands over the tightly-corded muscles of Chris's shoulders, kneading them under his fingers.
Chris closed his eyes and a shiver of pleasure passed through him.
Josiah's breath caught in his throat and he leaned toward Chris's neck, licking droplets of sweat off the hot skin.
"Josiah?" Chris said in a soft, questioning voice.
"I just wanna make you feel good, Chris. We's friends, ain't we?"
"Mm-hmm..."
"Then let me..."
Chris's mind swirled. He wanted to stop Josiah, knew he should, but it all felt too good to stop anything. The liquor and the pleasure of the man's touch combined to stop all attempts at thinking. His whole body, the entire space around him, was just about feeling now.
The older man's hands skimmed down Chris's hips and undid the waistband of his pants. Chris put his hands on Josiah's to stop him.
"No," he said in a whisper. Josiah's heart sank for a moment. "I'll do it," said Chris, and Josiah felt his heartbeat speed up again. He held his glass of whiskey to Chris's lips, silently urging him to take a sip. The younger man complied.
Josiah hooked a finger into the now-loosened waistband. "Why don’t you take 'em off...stretch out a little..."
Without a word, Chris shucked out of his pants, his slightly clumsy hands the only indication of the whiskey he'd had. He stretched out slowly on his stomach, his hands folded under his chin.
Josiah sighed with a longing. White heat rushed into his groin as he took in the lean nakedness, the taut skin glowing in the light. He wanted Chris more than ever. He massaged Chris's back again, this time his hands moving lower, past the curve of his lower back, over the smooth, hard-muscled buttocks, heading for that dark furrow that looked so inviting....
Chris shifted slightly, and Josiah could sense him tightening up inside. Not now! Not when he was so close to the prize he sought! He slid his big hand between Chris's parted legs, massaging his thighs, then leaned over, his tongue flicking lightly over the sensitive skin where Chris's legs touched his saddle.
Chris sighed noisily. His mind was drifting lazily now, letting whatever was happening to him take its course. It felt so good. So warm. He shifted against the persistent erection craving relief, now caught between his belly and the scratchy blanket. He felt Josiah - was it still Josiah? Did it matter anymore? - begin to stroke him lightly between his buttocks. Something warm and wet coated the sensitive, wrinkled skin around his opening, and he relaxed even more. Slowly, he felt a growing sense of pressure. Nothing uncomfortable. Just a slow,
unyielding pressure that built until he felt the tight ring of muscle relax to allow entry.
Josiah almost trembled with his eagerness. It took all his willpower to hold back, to be patient. He couldn't rush now. Not now! Keeping one hand on Chris, he gently rubbed the younger man's lower back and buttocks, as he quickly, awkwardly tugged off his own pants. He was sure he heard some buttons clatter to the floor, but he no longer cared.
Chris sighed again, wiggling his hips against the bed. He felt the bed shift, as Josiah's naked form lay against him, warm and musky. Something satin-smooth brushed against his anus and the pressure returned. Josiah's tongue brushed lightly against his neck and ear and Chris relaxed again, feeling his whole body open, yielding to the pleasure that now overtook his senses. Something stroked against him in a spot hidden deep within and Chris bucked against the weight on his back, trying to drive the strokes in deeper, to hit that spot again. He moaned
loudly now, urging Josiah on.
Josiah felt the incredible moist heat surround him. The velvet heat inside Chris's body gripped him, clutched at him, threatened to swallow him completely, and he was willing to let it. With a sheer effort of will, he thrust gently, shallowly at first, until Chris bucked insistently, hungrily against him.
Josiah thrust with abandon now, Chris's cries and moans the only sound he could hear beyond the roaring in his own ears as his orgasm began to build. Then he was past the point of no return, past the point of knowing anything at all except for a release that enveloped his whole body and seemed to spread into the lean young man beneath him.
Chris threw back his head in a strangled cry, like a wolf, baying at the moon, as his own orgasm seized every muscle in his body. It exploded in milky seed out the tip of his heavy, throbbing erection and into the bedding below.
The blond gunslinger could no longer control his muscles and collapsed on the bed. Josiah's arms began to quiver and then he, too, collapsed against the younger man. He gently kissed him on the neck and ear. "Did I miss any spots this time?" he whispered.
Chris smiled languidly as sleepiness overtook him. "No, this time I think you got them all."
The End
