Messenger of Love

Disclaimer: These are Annie Proulx’s characters, bless her heart for bringin’ more love into the world! I intend no infringement of her copyrights, and this story has no commercial purpose whatsoever.

Naked, Jack bent over near the motel room’s curtained window to pick his jeans up off the floor, where Ennis had flung them the previous afternoon. Lust had taken its toll over a dozen passionate hours of muscular, sweaty man-sex, afternoon melting into night and then into dawn, and Ennis snored, his arm sprawled possessively across Jack’s pillow.

The chipped ceramic ashtrays overflowed. The whiskey bottles lay scattered, the carpet more stained than when they had taken the room, even the wall … well they knew they should stay away from the walls. Someone always ended up being thrown hard against the wall as they worked their way into a frenzy of hungry kissing, wrestling, pulling off clothing. But that was how it had always been with Jack and Ennis: untidy, brawling bouts of sex punctuated with sudden periods of quiet embrace. Indeed, the whole “situation,” as Jack called it, thrived on the unexpected.

They would throw a few dollars down at the desk for the dank, claustrophobic room, round up a hearty breakfast at some truck-stop diner, and pursue their lovemaking somewhere in the mountains where they were headed. Jack didn’t know, nor did Ennis, when they would start the next round of wrestling—their usual prelude to one getting the upper hand and forcefully removing the other’s clothing. And from there it would go. It could happen on the way up, maybe in a secluded bit of woods where they would step out to take a whiz. But probably they would wait until that night in camp, because both men enjoyed how the campfire cast a warm glow on their naked bodies, before they snuggled into the bedroll for the night.

Jack heard a creak and turned, thinking that Ennis had turned over on the useless, groaning bed springs. He was startled to realize it was the rusty hinges of the bathroom door on the far side of the room. He swallowed hard as a man stepped across the threshold into the room. Jack could see that he was about Ennis’ size, shirtless, dressed in old jeans, barefoot. He started to walk across the room toward Jack. Shit, thought Jack—we didn’t bring anyone else in, he knew they wouldn’t have, even though they had a lot to drink. He sure knew that Ennis wouldn’t have; hell, Ennis could barely deal with one man. They had an intruder, and Jack was naked as the day he was born. Embarrassed, he turned, scrambling for his clothing.

Shucking his jeans, the man was right behind Jack. “Uh, pardner,” Jack stammered. “Who … who … ,” but it turned into a “hoo!” a moment later when the stranger caught Jack and pulled him back. He pressed his hard cock into Jack’s ass crack. This disarmed Jack, who suddenly lost all interest in his clothing. Damn this feels good, he thought. He glanced guiltily toward Ennis, who was finally waking up. Maybe Ennis could watch?

“Ennis, what the fuckl? What did we do last night? Who is this guy?” Even though the man was behind Jack, the latter had gotten a good enough look to think that he looked real familiar, like he could be Ennis’ cousin or something. But Ennis wasn’t prone to inviting relatives along on his and Jack’s trysts, as far as Jack knew!

Ennis said nothing as he pushed himself up off the sagging mattress. Jack grew even more confused—and excited—when Ennis came toward him from the front, not worried about the stranger at all. Ennis was nude, still a bit sleepy-eyed, but his sizable erection pointed up in front of his belly. He walked right up to Jack, took Jack’s face in his large hands, looked him in the eye as if to say it was all okay, and kissed him hard on the mouth. The tongues went deep, and their cocks rubbed against each other. The frottage alone could have done both of them, drops of precum surfacing already, but they wanted to hold off.

Waiting always made it better, although each had a different idea about what “waiting” really meant, at least in terms of them seeing each other. The only time they had agreed about that was when they had seen each other for the first time after Brokeback Mountain. That was waiting, and it was much too long for the both of them. Shit, Jack had even gone ahead and gotten married for chrissake, had a kid. He hadn’t already been committed to a woman like Ennis had been, and could have been a free spirit—which he kind of turned out to be anyway. But four years, goddamn, that was brutal!

Ennis dropped to his knees, and Jack straddled his face. Ennis nuzzled Jack’s musky balls, a gentle foreplay that belied the violent passion of most of their encounters, maybe even this round by the time they were done. Meanwhile, this guy behind Jack, Ennis’ cousin or whatever, already had a lubed-up finger probing for Jack’s anus. He inserted his finger, and Jack relaxed. Next Jack felt the stranger press hard with his dick (but never as hard as Ennis that first night on the mountain!), and Jack let his warm asshole take the erect cock up to the hilt.

Well, despite what he may have told Ennis, Jack had gone south of the border all right, but never with more than one guy at a time. The multiple sensations were something new, one man swirling his tongue around the swollen, sensitive head of Jack’s penis, and the other delivering joy to Jack’s prostate with his slowly thrusting cock. Pushing in and pulling back just part way, repeating the movements, nothing frantic.

Fortunately for Jack, he himself was not overendowed, so Ennis could get the entire shaft of his lover’s penis in his mouth, right down to the root of dark curly pubic hair. Ennis placed his lips around the tumescent cock, created a sort of vacuum and began sliding his mouth up and down, up and down. Jack put his hands on the back of Ennis’ head, not really to force his cock into the other man’s face, but rather to keep the two of them somehow connected, to maybe make up for some of the time when they couldn’t be together. He didn’t think he had ever had an erection like this, and his moans grew increasingly louder.

In five minutes, the fucking from behind and the sucking in front were too much, and Jack’s body stiffened up as he bolted into an excruciating orgasm. One of those that would probably look staged if filmed, one of those hip-bucking ones where the guy really says “Jeeezus Christ!” But Jack always groaned, whispered or shouted, “Gun’s goin’ off!” a response Ennis loved because it reminded him of their first passionate night together. Jack sometimes didn’t have enough control to put the accent on the right word or even to get the whole sentence out, but no matter.

Jack was a distance shooter, and the first spurt of hot jizz hit the back of Ennis’ throat with force. Sometimes Ennis masturbated Jack, usually from behind but not always, and he could always sense the cum coursing its way up Jack’s cock. They liked to see how far it would shoot each time, not caring where it landed, sometimes in their camp, sometimes in the middle of a motel room, hell, once even in the truck. Often they laughed about it, depending on where it ended up. Once Jack was on his back and shot on to his own left eye, much to their amusement. But this time Ennis drank it all, and afterward softly dragged his morning stubble across the head of Jack’s drained cock, still sensitive and oh so ticklish.

Right after Jack’s orgasm, Ennis had shot his own healthy load onto Jack’s leg without any stimulation. The cum drizzled down the muscular leg between the dark hairs, and Ennis lapped that up too. He tongued Jack’s sweating torso as his mouth moved up towards Jack’s lips again.

The man behind Jack continued his thrusting in a very deliberate way, pulling back enough so that the cock head enjoyed maximum pleasure from Jack’s contractions. As soon as Jack clamped down during his own orgasm, it took just a couple of minutes before the stranger arched forward and shot a hot load deep into his still-moaning target. He took a minute to catch his breath but kept his semi-erect cock inside Jack. He then brought his hands up to Jack’s chest and embraced him from behind. Ennis looked up at Jack as his hands wrapped around his lover’s ass. Jack didn’t mind more kissing, but he needed some explanations, not least why Ennis, who rarely faced him during the hottest parts of their lovemaking, was suddenly sucking him off—actually the first time Ennis had ever given him a blow job! And then, this three-way business just wasn’t like Ennis. What was going on? Who was this other guy who had just done to Jack what Ennis usually did, all that backdoor stuff?

The stranger kissed the back of Jack’s neck, his hot breath puffing against the sensitive skin as he whispered, “Jack, I love you so much.” Jack had never heard these words from a man, not so directly anyway, and he stood stunned. Whispered like Ennis, yet something Ennis never would have said, never would say, never could say.

And more from the soft voice behind: “I have loved you since I first read about you. God, I wish it had worked out, Jack. You really tried, didn’t you? You really did, and I just couldn’t … well I mean Ennis, well Ennis, he’s a tough one, isn’t he? Sometimes I’m like you, I just don’t know what to do with him. I think about it a lot. I could start with the shirts maybe. Jack, thank you so much for the shirts, such a beautiful gesture, so goddamn beautiful, and Ennis needs that so badly, something to draw out his emotions, doesn’t he? I cried when I read about the shirts, I still do. But you know, I’m still working on how Ennis cries. I just don’t know if I’m up to the challenge. What I’m saying Jack is that I’m afraid of all this, afraid like Ennis of this kind of love. Afraid of being rejected, losing everything. And now that I’m here, it could still happen that way. But I had to take the risk, it’s what my life is all about.”

Jack’s body was exhausted from the sex, and his head whirred with confusion. What the fuck was this guy talking about? And how could he be in love with Jack when they had known one another not even an hour? And how could he so easily say what Jack and Ennis never could bring themselves to say? And the shirts—how on earth … well, he must be talking about something else.

Jack returned his attention to Ennis, who again was standing, looking deeply into Jack’s eyes, with a slight, rueful smile breaking his once-again stony face. “You know somethin’, Jack?” he began. But sometimes Jack didn’t know anything.

Things just happened, and he had no say in it. That was his life, really. This could be more of the same, but it startled him, and he didn’t know what to think. The romantic in him felt hope. Was it the start of something new, something that was going to go right? Ennis on his knees before him: a more willing Ennis? Dare he think it … that ranch together? Better ease into it, he decided, and began hopefully, “Tell you what, Ennis…”

But as Jack began to speak, Ennis deftly stepped around behind him, and Ennis and Heath became one. Ennis wrapped his arms around Jack from behind, pressed tightly against him. He loved him more than ever and still didn’t know how to say it, but he knew he never wanted to let him go.

THE END