Calvin’s Cowboy (24 page)

Brock rubbed Calvin’s arm, not sure how to respond. He chose not to. It’d been a long day, what with the drive to the airport in Austin, leaving KITT in the long-term parking lot, the flight, and then the cab ride to Calvin’s apartment.

“Junior settle down okay?” Calvin asked.

Brock twisted to face Calvin and pecked him on the lips. “Out like a light. The flight and the mini guided tour of Manhattan from the cab tired him out.”

Calvin smiled and kissed Brock back. “He seemed to like what he saw.”

“Especially the Empire State Building. I didn’t realize they put red, white, and blue lights on it for the Fourth.”

“Yes, you get a really good view from my bedroom.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

Calvin smirked. “Horndog.”

The two exchanged kisses, Calvin climbing onto Brock’s lap, the deep sofa cushions giving them plenty of room to maneuver.

“The hot chocolate is going cold,” Brock eventually said.

“Don’t care about hot chocolate when I’ve got a hot cowboy.” Calvin leaned in to suck on Brock’s bottom lip.

Eventually they made it to the bedroom—the hot chocolate untouched—both men trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Junior.

They undressed quickly. The lights were off in the room, the only illumination coming from the window. Brock went to close the drapes, but the view—lighted windows in tower blocks, headlights of cars traveling along the various expressways—caused him to pause in wonderment at the almost silent scene in front of and below him. Calvin was right, there was a great view of the Empire State Building.

Calvin came up behind Brock and began to massage his shoulders. “You okay, beautiful?”

“It’s different to what I thought it would be. Bigger, busier.”

Calvin ran his palms down Brock’s bare arms. “It’s a view I never tire of seeing.” Turning Brock to face him, Calvin kissed him on the lips. Cupping Brock’s face, Calvin stared into his eyes. “Another view I will never tire of seeing.”

Brock kissed him back. “I love you.”

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

They kissed for a few moments; the glow from the city illuminated Calvin’s face looking adoringly up at him.

“Thank you,” Calvin whispered.

“What for?” Brock whispered back.

“For coming here. For as long as you stay, I’ll do everything I can to show you how much I love you, how much I want you and Junior to be a part of my life, and—”

Brock silenced him with a kiss. “Should be me thanking you. All the things you’ve done for me, for Junior.”

Brock closed his eyes and recalled the visit to the bankruptcy lawyer. He shuddered. Calvin had gone with him—and when it had gotten too much—he’d reached out and taken Calvin’s hand. Brock hadn’t cared what—if anything—the lawyer had thought. That evening, and every evening since, Calvin had listened to him when the shame of failure had seemed overwhelming. Calvin had whispered words of love and reassurance, promising Brock he’d get through it and come out whole on the other side. Calvin had been there for him every step of the way.

Despite Brock’s protests, Calvin had paid the garage repair bills for his truck, had paid for his hat reblocking, had paid for countless other things. Then when Brock had announced he’d finished the renovations on Calvin’s folk’s place, Calvin had paid—in cash—the balance of his bill, plus an extra five hundred dollars. Despite Brock’s attempts to hand back the money, Calvin had reminded Brock they’d agreed he would pay a bonus if Brock completed the work quickly. And, as they’d shaken on the deal, Calvin said he wasn’t going back on it.

Opening his eyes again, Brock stared into his man’s face. “No, darlin’, I’ll say it again, it’s me who needs to thank you,” he whispered.

“You being here is thanks enough.”

Calvin laid a trail of kisses starting at Brock’s throat, moving down his chest, belly, groin, then along the length of his stiff dick.

“Welcome to New York City.” The man took Brock’s dick down his throat in one swallow.

Brock gasped. “You’re sure makin’ me feel real welcome.”

Getting blown while looking down on the city that never sleeps was a unique experience for Brock, one he thought he could get used to. But before he could even get used to this blowjob, Calvin pulled off.

“Wha?”

“Bed’s more comfortable.”

Brock smiled and took Calvin’s hand.

Calvin was right. The bed was one of the most comfortable things Brock had ever lain on. If he weren’t so wrapped up in making out with his lover, he’d have asked about the four-poster that had to be bigger than a standard king size.

“Wanna try something,” Calvin said between kisses.

Brock licked Calvin’s neck. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

Calvin picked up Brock’s hard member that was oozing a steady stream of juice onto the quilted bedspread. “With you still having all of what God gave you,” Calvin ran his finger along Brock’s foreskin, “and me not, I thought we could do this.”

Calvin lined the tip of his penis up with the end of Brock’s, and pulled Brock’s loose skin forward over Calvin’s exposed cock head.

“Docking?” Brock asked.

Calvin kissed him. “Makes me feel closer to you.”

“Yeah.” The sensation felt odd, but a good kind of odd.

Calvin began to jack the two of them. At one point he got too enthusiastic and the connection broke. Bending down and licking away the excess pre-seminal fluid from Brock’s cock head—both of them were quite prodigious leakers—he joined them again.

“Want you to come over my cock.”

Brock loved Calvin’s dirty talk. It was so unexpected from such a put-together conservative kind of guy. Brock also loved how Calvin would take charge and direct things.

To muffle his whimpers, Brock put a forearm over his mouth. However, Calvin soon removed it, replacing it with his own mouth.

The connection broke again, but both of them were too fired up to care. Calvin climbed on top of Brock and ground their groins together.

“Need you, cowboy. Come for me.”

“Almost there, darlin’,” Brock growled through clenched teeth, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

Then it happened. Brock felt himself teeter on the edge…then slowly tilt over…and fall, as if in slow motion. Calvin was there to catch him, silencing his whimpers.

“Got you, beautiful. Won’t ever let you fall.”

It wasn’t the most intense orgasm Brock had ever had, but it was one of the longest. Feeling safe and loved in Calvin’s arms, Brock soon drifted off to sleep. His earlier worries of being in a strange city, of being bankrupt, of not having a job faded into warm, fuzzy, comforting darkness.

* * * *

“First order of business,” Calvin said, pouring himself and Brock cups of coffee and Junior a glass of orange juice, “is breakfast, and then we’re going shopping.”

“Huh?” Brock mumbled, rubbing his whiskery chin. All he could focus on was the need for caffeine.

“I don’t have anything in the pantry, so we’ll need to go out for breakfast.”

“Okay,” Junior said. “And I guess the shopping is for groceries.”

Calvin nodded. “After we’ve been clothes shopping.”

“Huh?” Brock repeated. The black coffee hadn’t started to kick in yet. Had Calvin said they were going shopping for clothes? He and Junior had packed two suitcases full of clothes.

“Junior,” Calvin addressed Brock’s son. “What did your daddy forget to pack?”

Junior looked confused.

“What does he wear most days, but didn’t bring with him?”

The light of understanding dawned in the boy’s eyes. “His cowboy hat.”

“Exactly,” Calvin said. “And probably his western shirts, belts, and boots, too.”

“I didn’t want to look like a hick,” Brock protested.

“You didn’t want to look like a hick.” Calvin transferred his attention from Brock to Junior. “Please cover your ears for a moment.”

Junior laughed, but didn’t comply.

Turning back to Brock, Calvin said, “Seriously, Brock, if you don’t want to wear those types of clothes, that’s okay, but if you chose not to wear them because you’d be embarrassed, then that’s wrong.”

“How’d you mean?”

“New York has everything. You’ll see people in traditional African clothing, as well as Indians, Muslims, and Jews wearing their traditional garb. We see it all, and nobody blinks an eye. People can be who they are in New York. So if you’re a cowboy, you can dress like a cowboy.”

“Well, I do kinda miss wearin’ my hat,” Brock said sheepishly.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll mosey on over to the western goods store an’ get this hick a hat.” Winking at Junior, Calvin said, “You can uncover your ears now.”

Junior laughed.

“Would you like a hat, too?”

“If’n yor a-offerin’, I reckon that’d be mighty swell. Ifn’n Pa says it’s all right.”

“No,” Brock said, the joke having gone far enough. “I’m not letting you spend your money on stuff for both of us. Junior’s my responsibility.”

Calvin looked hurt. He nodded, took a sip of his coffee and stayed silent.

Later, when Junior was in his room getting ready, Brock apologized.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I overstepped the line,” Calvin said, only briefly meeting Brock’s eyes. “I never want to undermine you in front of Junior. It’s just…well I don’t have a son of my own. Never thought I’d be the paternal kind, but…Junior, he’s such a special kid I just wanted to spoil him a little. Sorry.”

Brock took Calvin’s hand that was resting on the table and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t buy him everything I’d like to, and—”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…While I had you two here I wanted to make you both happy.” In a lower voice he added, “Make me happy.”

The two men stood, hugged, then kissed.

Brock felt overwhelming affection for Calvin. He’d opened his home, his heart and his wallet to the pair of them, and lord knew why. “I love you somethin’ fierce.”

* * * *

The western clothing store Calvin found seemed to have everything. Brock could even forget they were in New York, not Texas. Okay, they had more sparkly shirts with fringe type dealies on them that no genuine cowboy would be seen dead wearing, but there was plenty of the real stuff, too.
But the prices!
Brock put back a pair of stonewashed Wranglers.

Calvin took the jeans back off the rack and held them against Brock’s legs. “Stop it,” he admonished. “My treat, remember. Do you like them?”

Brock admitted he did.

“And I bet your ass would look purty damn fine in ‘em,” Calvin whispered.

Brock felt himself blush. Damn his fair complexion. He’d had the same thought.

To his credit, Junior only chose a couple of items. Calvin looked at Brock, who nodded.

“That’s a good start, Junior,” Calvin said, “but what about boots? And we  haven’t visited the hat department yet.”

Junior—who saw Brock nod—said, “You sure, Dad?”

“If Calvin says it’s okay, then it’s okay.”

“Calvin says it’s okay,” Calvin said. “Now which color hat do you want? I’ve been reading up about the ‘X’ rating of hats.”

Brock sighed. He’d thought Calvin would have bought Junior a straw hat, similar to the one the kid had back home. He should have known Calvin wouldn’t go for the cheap option. But despite his reservations, Brock couldn’t help but get caught up in Junior’s excitement. Brock’s first felt hat had been cheap; it was all he could afford at the time. But he’d been real proud of it.

Brock followed as Calvin and Junior made their way over to the hat section, Calvin’s hand resting in the center of Junior’s shoulders, the two of them in animated conversation. Brock felt an enormous sense of pride wash over him. These two people were his family, his past and—maybe—his future.

* * * *

They spent a magical few days seeing the sights of New York. However, when they visited Times Square, Brock felt Calvin was uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” Brock asked, just after a Japanese tourist had handed back Calvin’s camera after taking a picture of the three of them hugging.

“Nothing, I’m having a great time,” Calvin said, putting on a smile even more false than the one he’d worn for the photograph.

Junior was a few feet in front of them, and Brock was sure he was out of hearing range.

“Liar,” Brock whispered.

“It’s just the crowds.”

“Huh?” Brock didn’t understand. The guy lived in the center of a huge city. Surely crowds were a fact of life.

“Generally New Yorkers steer clear of the big tourist areas if they can.”

“Want to go home?”

Brock surprised himself by calling Calvin’s condo ‘home.’ If the now genuine smile on Calvin’s face was any indication, he hadn’t missed the reference, either.

“Nah,” Calvin shook his head. “Junior’s loving it, and all of this,” Calvin stretched out his arms, “is just as much a part of New York as anything.” Calvin’s smile remained. “Honestly, I’m having a great time showing you guys around. Where do you want to visit next?”

“The Empire State Building!” Junior turned round to say.

Clearly the boy had been within hearing range. Brock would have to be more careful in future.

* * * *

The lines outside the Empire State Building were long. Brock didn’t particularly want to wait, but knew going to the top was something Junior would really enjoy. However, they didn’t have to wait. Calvin said he knew someone, money changed hands, and they went to a different entrance and got into the elevator.

The view from the observation deck on the 86
th
floor was amazing. It was surprisingly breezy so far up. Brock was right, Junior loved it, asking Calvin a seemingly endless stream of questions about everything he could see.

“That’s enough,” Brock eventually said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “Calvin isn’t a tour guide.”

“I don’t mind,” Calvin was smiling broadly. “I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. There’s a smaller observation platform on the one-hundred and second floor, but it’s totally enclosed. We could go up there if you want, or there’s the New York Skyride on the second floor.”

“What’s that?” Junior tore his gaze away from the cityscape to ask.

“It’s a simulated aerial tour of the city.”