Page 70 of Cattle Stop

Cooper wants to crawl under a rock as he follows Whit up to their room, pretending texting Terry takes more time than it does just to be able to mess with his phone. Just sex, just sex, just sex—Whit has no problem keeping that damn fact straight.

Sorry, he nearly blurts out as Whit shuts the door behind them. But maybe Whit didn’t hear what Cooper said. Or maybe he’s just politely ignoring that slip of an endearment, his head too full of the work they’re not getting finished today and the discomfort of the spontaneity of heading down to the city spur of the moment.

Cooper tosses a clean sock onto his bed and kneels to root through his duffle bag for another. “I really can handle going down to the city,” he says, “if you don’t want to come. I promise I can even count to ten, and all the way to twenty if I use my toes.”

“I was just messing with you about the discounts.”

“And I’m not—whatever. Look, I know the farm is really yours and Drew’s. I’m not trying to horn in on that.”

Since his first summer here, acne all over his chin and punch-drunk in love with Whit, Cooper’s known it’s Drew and Whit, Whit and Drew, and then Penny, too, when she moved in after Drew’s aunt and uncle retired. So no, he doesn’t need a reminder.

“Hey,” Whit says softly.

“Really, you don’t have to come.” Cooper jams his arm into the far corner of his bag.

“I want to.”

Cooper straightens, his knees digging into the floorboards. “Don’t lie.”

“I do.” Whit shrugs. “And maybe I want to meet your mom.”

Cooper huffs a laugh and tips his bag upside down, shaking it until the sock finally falls out. “Don’t hold your breath. We’re competing for her time with her sacred meeting schedule.”

“Hey,” Whit says again and nods toward the bathroom. “Come here, would you? You smell like a cow.”

“Cows smell great.” Cooper lets himself be tugged up to his feet. “You’re the one who fed the stinky-ass pigs this morning, bucket by agonizingly slow bucket.”

Cooper tosses his phone next to the sink and turns the shower up hot, like Whit likes it. The dial’s always set to a temperature ready to scald Cooper’s skin lobster-red, whenever he showers after Whit. Though he’ll take it now as Whit steers him under the spray of water.

Cooper shoves Whit’s arm so his bandaged hand sticks out past the shower curtain. God, Whit feels good. All the better with the hot water billowing steam around them, and the slippery flow of Whit slicking soap across Cooper’s chest. They should shower together every day, should’ve been doing this for weeks now. Saving on hot water, or some such reasoning, when the truth is Whit’s cock is stirring against Cooper’s stomach.

Cooper sucks lightly on the ridge of Whit’s collarbone, all fresh water and the faint bite of soap. Lower, across the plane of Whit’s pecs, Cooper bends to lick the water streaming off the bulges of his abs. A vein runs down the flat of Whit’s stomach beneath his navel, and when Whit presses his shoulder, Cooper kneels, tracing the course of water with his tongue.

Whit grabs Cooper’s head as Cooper kisses the tip of his cock. Dark eyes, water streaming over his nose and chin, his lips full and parted—damn but Whit’s a sight. Cooper leans forward and kisses him again, his tongue just barely darting out.

“C’mon,” Whit grunts. His grip tightens.

“C’mon, what?”

Whit inhales, his chest rising. Gently, he presses and Cooper lets himself be pushed forward, taking Whit’s cock in his mouth. He tastes so good. He always does, but this is all the more fun with water streaming over Whit’s skin, the slipperiness of the shower, and the humid rise of steam.

Cooper grabs the back of Whit’s thighs and sucks just how Whit likes it, drawing his tongue up the length slowly and dipping back down quicker. Whit tilts his head back, his hips pushing forward. Yeah, fuck yeah, just like that, Whit’s cock bumping the back of Cooper’s throat. Cooper could do this all damn day, until his knees go numb and the shower runs cold, Whit clawing at his hair and Cooper catching the rhythm of the tiny flexes of his hips.

Whit’s breathing speeds up, like it always does just before he comes. Cooper flicks his tongue faster and looks up the length of Whit’s body. He could stop. Pull off Whit, tease him and mess with him, and see if this morning’s frolic doesn’t involve getting shoved facedown onto his own bed, Whit climbing behind him, just how Cooper likes it.

Though Whit shakes his head, a tiny, short gesture, and Cooper would laugh if his mouth wasn’t full of that gorgeous cock, sure that Whit knows what he was thinking. Whit’s hand tightens, holds Cooper there, and Whit comes with a hard gasp, fingers flexing on Cooper’s head and flooding his mouth.

Cooper pulls off Whit’s cock, pokes a finger into his thigh, and says, “You keep your other hand dry?”

“Fuck you.”

“Please.”

Whit hooks a hand beneath Cooper’s arm and hauls him upright. Whit’s mouth falls to Cooper’s neck and their skin slides together, and Cooper tips his head back and guides Whit’s hand to his cock.

“Like that,” Cooper says.

“I think I know how to do it.”