A Prairie Dog's Love Song (4 page)

“Hello.” Ben heard Frankie’s voice.

“Hey” came the reply. Ben cringed at the deep bass authority in that voice, even as the hair on the back of his neck stood up in response.
Oh, Lord
.

“Found him out on the drive,” Devon said. “Thought you might be open to meeting him. He’s hot.”

Oooohh, Lord
. Devon. Devon was gorgeous, but also a few bottles short of a full case. He seemed to think—

“You’re a little mature,” Frankie was saying doubtfully. “But you have a good look. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” Ben heard the slight trace of amusement in Joshua’s drawl.

“Hmm…. That
is
a bit old, but I have been wanting to mix it up a little now and then.”

“Could be nice for a change, right?” Devon said.

“Are you willing to show me what you’re packing?” Frankie asked.

Ben put his hand over his mouth in horror. He
had
to look. He peeked over the edge of the landing in time to see Joshua get sort of bigger and
loom
over Frankie.

“Sure. I’m packin’ a helluva right hook and a boot labeled Y-O-U-R-A-S-S.”

Ben huffed out something that was part laugh, part scream. All three of the men in the foyer looked up. Joshua’s eyes met his. Ben stood up and ran for the bedroom, and just as he reached it, Frankie’s voice rang out, loud and a bit strangled.

“
Caleb!
”

B
EN
TRIED
to get out of it. He really did. But Joshua told Frankie he was gonna wait right outside, and wait he did. Ben could see him from the bedroom window, just standing in the driveway, relaxed as sin, as if he had all the time in the world to just stand there and contemplate life.

Ben sighed. Joshua was like that. He could outwait the most stubborn horse, a weeklong thunderstorm, or even a zombie apocalypse.

“I can call the cops if you really don’t want to speak to him,” Frankie offered. He put a sympathetic hand on Ben’s shoulder as they looked out the window. “This
is
private property.”

Ben shook his head. Siccing the police on Joshua would be like pissing on a Christmas tree.

“I’ll go,” Ben said. And down he went, dragging his feet.

I
T
TOOK
less than an hour. Joshua expected as much. Ben was the sort that, once something got a foothold in that rapid-fire brain of his, he couldn’t let it go. So the idea that Joshua was standing outside waiting to talk to him would have itched and itched until he just
had
to scratch it, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

Ben came out. He looked so damn good. He wasn’t huge like the blond giant Joshua had met at the gate. But he was a good-sized man—
man
, Joshua thought
; he’s a man now
—who was clearly in a profession where his body was his chief asset. He wore a fitted T-shirt and nylon shorts, like maybe something you’d swim in. His blond hair was more straw than dark honey now, bleached by the Vegas sun, and his skin was a warm golden brown all over. His body was very lean. He’d been spending a lot of time in the gym.

He looked fit, no doubt. But Joshua missed the softer, more boyish Ben who’d carried a little bit of weight on him. Joshua was a cattleman. It was in his blood to think a bit of heft meant a healthy animal.

Hell, he missed the old Ben, period. Joshua swallowed.

Ben’s deep-blue eyes had a hard time staying on Joshua’s face, and a raspberry blush was visible on his throat, even through the suntan. He was embarrassed.

“Hey,” Ben said, coming to a stop three feet from Joshua.

“Hey.”

Joshua’s gut twisted as he tried to figure out what to say. He’d come to take Ben home, but now that he was here, he felt a little lost. This was a world he didn’t understand, with this dry heat and the fancy flesh-colored house, in this landscape where everything was clean cement and clean little rocks and a few sparse cacti and palms—in this world with beautiful, perfect boys like Devon.

For a moment, Joshua felt self-doubt. What if Ben
belonged
here? Then Ben shot him a look from under his eyelashes. It was filled with guilt and regret.

No
, Joshua reminded himself. He knew who Ben Rivers was. Besides, Joshua was selfish enough not to give a good goddamn what was “right” for Ben. He just wanted him home.

“You stayin’ here?” Joshua asked, his voice rough.

“Nah. I’m in an apartment.” Ben looked down at his bare toes. He flexed them on the hot cement.

“Can we go there?”

“Why?” Ben looked up, surprised.

Joshua nodded at the big house. “Wanna talk in private.”

Ben looked at the house too, seemingly torn. “Joshua, I ain’t goin’ back. I can’t. And you won’t talk me into it, so there’s no point. I’m sorry that you came all this way, and I appreciate it, I do. But I have a job here. And it’s a good job. And I know you don’t get it. And you probably hate me right now and think I’m all slutty and everything. But it pays real good money and….”

As Ben rambled he had a serious, resolved expression on his face that Joshua didn’t like at all. Ben was working himself up, talking himself into a position that he’d find it hard to back down from, the way an animal sometimes worked itself up to being mad. And seeing him standing there in the sun, looking so young and sweet, Joshua didn’t think he could stand it if Ben got his mind fixed on the wrong course. So he stopped Ben’s words by stepping closer to him and wrapping his arms around him, pulling Ben against his chest.

Ben was startled for a moment, but he didn’t fight it. He was a good half foot shorter, and Joshua put his face in Ben’s hair. He smelled clean and warm, like a hot summer day, with just a hint of chlorine. Joshua held him chastely, like a brother might have done, and waited a good while till Ben finally relaxed and surrendered. And even though it wasn’t a usual thing for them—he’d maybe hugged Ben twice before in their entire lives—it didn’t feel strange. If Joshua was honest with himself, it felt purely wonderful.

“Go fetch your things, and let’s talk at your place,” Joshua said quietly. He gave Ben a squeeze and let go.

Ben heaved out a long, shaky breath and, without another word, went inside to get his stuff.

J
OSHUA
FOLLOWED
Ben’s car for twenty minutes to a cluster of matchbox apartment buildings that looked as new as everything else in this city. There was such a strange, empty feeling to the place. Joshua supposed this would be a good place to run to if you were escaping something and needed to build up a new identity, or maybe if you just wanted a life as clean and simple and scorched free of meaning as you could find.

Joshua hated it. He would die in a place so stingy with green living things. His soul would become as dry and blank as the apartment buildings. Maybe that was the point. Maybe for some folks, that was an improvement.

Joshua left his rental car in a guest spot next to Ben’s and got out.

“Come on in,” Ben said in a resigned voice, heading for a building.

The inside of the apartment was as generic as the outside. Beige furniture and a modest TV filled up the living room, and there were two beige stools by the kitchen counter.

“Wanna soda?” Ben asked, heading into the open kitchen.

“All right.” Joshua took a seat on one of the stools.

Ben got them each a Diet Coke, and they drank in silence for a bit, Joshua sitting at the counter and Ben standing in the kitchen. Ben wouldn’t look at Joshua much, but when he did, it was warily, as if he was a stray dog and Joshua was a dogcatcher. He still wore that shamed look up high on his cheeks. Joshua waited, biding his time.

“Reckon you know about the videos and everything,” Ben said, breaking the silence.

“Seen ’em,” Joshua agreed calmly.

Ben looked downright horrified. “You
watched
’em?”

“Yup.”

“Oh,
Lord
.”

“All of ’em.” Joshua took a drink of the soda.

Ben turned his back to Joshua and put his face in his hands. “You really watched
all
of ’em?” he asked in a small voice, as if he just couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

“Had to see the lay of things,” Joshua drawled matter-of-factly.

“I’m—I’m not ashamed of ’em,” Ben said defensively.

“All right.”

“I have a lot of fans. A lot. I’m one of the most popular models on the site,” he insisted hotly.

“Well, I reckon.”

Joshua was sure that was true. From what Joshua had seen, Ben might not have the biggest cock in B2B’s stable, or even the most impressive body. But it was impossible not to fall in love with his innocent can-do enthusiasm, his charming mix of bold and shy, and the sweet, honest look in his big blue eyes. It was his spirit that put him in another class from those other boys altogether—a prize stallion among draft animals. And doing the videos hadn’t robbed him of one ounce of that sweetness, thank God. There was nothing deadened or jaded about Ben Rivers.

Ben finally turned around, his cheeks red. “What do you want, Joshua? Why’d you come?”

“Ben, this ain’t the place for you. Nothin’… nothin’ grows here.”

Ben looked conflicted. “I know. I don’t much like Vegas. But I reckon I’ll work steady for a couple of years and stash all my money away. Then I can go to college, maybe someplace green, like Vermont. Thought maybe I’d be a vet or somethin’.”

Joshua stared at him.
Oh, for Christ’s sake.
He spoke carefully.

“You wanna live someplace you hate for two years, to save up money, then go to school for six years or more, all so’s you can eventually live someplace green and work with animals?”

Ben grew redder. He folded his arms. “That’s not… that’s not what I….” Then, firm, “I can’t go back to Clyde’s Corner.”

“Hell, Ben! No one’s gonna crucify you cause you done some porn. Try to get in your pants, maybe,” Joshua admitted reluctantly.

“But Henry Atkins—”

“Is a bona fide jackass. He’s just pissed ’cause no one’d pay him to take off
his
Levi’s.”
Put ’em on, more like
, Joshua finished in his head.

Ben frowned worriedly. He shook his head. There was something else, something deeper. Joshua could see it in his face.

“Is it… bein’ gay?” Joshua asked.

“I ain’t gay!” Ben shot Joshua a look that could melt horseshoes. “It’s gay for pay. That means we just do it for the money.”

Joshua huffed. “Ben, I know what men look like havin’ sex. And if you ain’t taken to it like a duck takes to water, I’m Dolly Parton.”

Ben wouldn’t meet his eye. The silence dragged out. And dragged out.

“I guess I might be bi-curious,” Ben said quietly.

“What?”

“I said I could be sorta bi-curious,” Ben said loudly. “That’s someone who’s fundamentally straight but is curious about sex with men.”

Joshua grunted his opinion of that. “You’ve been checking out my ass since you were eleven years old, Ben. That ain’t curious, that’s
convicted
.”

Ben looked all sorts of embarrassed, but he didn’t argue. He took a cell phone out of one of the pockets of those nylon shorts and fiddled with it, a set look on his face. Joshua supposed he was gonna ignore the conversation for as long as Joshua would let him.

And Joshua, who was no way, no how a talker, suddenly reached the end of his limited tether of both patience and vocabulary for the day. Hell, maybe for the year. He could feel it inside—his breaking point resounding with a loud
snap
!

He suddenly knew what he had to do, what his body was telling him. And he’d ignored those signals for far too goddamn long where Ben Rivers was concerned, because Ben was his best friend’s kid brother, because he was young.

That was how they’d gotten into this messed-up, addle-headed situation in the first place.

Joshua stood up and moved around that endless kitchen counter with grim determination. The look on his face must have been something to see, because Ben glanced up and then shied away from him like a nervous filly. But Ben didn’t move fast enough, and in a heartbeat, Joshua had grabbed him, picked him up, and thrown him over his shoulder.

“Joshua!” came the indignant protest.

Maybe at that moment, as far as Ben was concerned, it coulda had a different outcome. Maybe he figured Joshua was gonna carry him out to his rental truck and dump him in it, force him to go home. Or maybe he thought Joshua was gonna give him a swat or two, like Ben’s dad or brother might have done if they were here.

But what Joshua did was carry Ben through the apartment, opening a few doors until he found the bedroom. He took the squirming man-boy into that room and tossed him on the bed.

Ben looked up at him with a shocked expression as Joshua ripped open his shirt, toed off his cowboy boots, and then went for his belt.

“You’re gonna feel mighty overdressed in about ten seconds,” Joshua told him. “So you’d best get a move on.”

“Wh—what are you doin’, Joshua? You ain’t gay!”

Joshua didn’t bother to answer. He just dropped his denims, shoving his white cotton briefs down along with them, and let Ben get a good gander at how not gay he was.

Ben shut up then, watching as Joshua separated himself from every last stitch of clothing. Ben’s eyes were the size of a harvest moon, and he didn’t move a hair till Joshua was completely naked. Anger and desire mingled in Joshua’s blood, along with a need to stake his claim, to make Ben his without any wiggle room for doubt. All of that had Joshua hard as an iron spike, and he stood there a moment, unashamed, just looking at Ben, letting the boy see his intent. He took a step toward the bed.

Suddenly, Ben scrambled up and ran for the door, purely panicked.

Joshua crossed the room in two strides and managed to get a hand on the door and push it shut just as Ben was opening it. Ben slumped against the wood, his back to Joshua. He was shaking.

Joshua figured Ben was having what you might call a defining moment. To let a man have him, to let Joshua have him, was a big deal. It was maybe the biggest thing Ben had ever done. In those videos, Ben could pretend it was for the money, could do it “for the fans.” He could do it with those false-named boys who also swore they weren’t gay. They joked about it afterward, probably, not meeting each other’s eyes. Hell, maybe most of ’em
were
as straight as they claimed to be. For ten thousand dollars, most men’d screw a light socket.