Twanger
by cmshaw
cmshaw@cmshaw.slashcity.net
7 December 1998

Disclaimers: Legally, it all belongs to Pet Fly, but morally, I gift it to SXF and the Atl-Sen crowd.

Summary: Jim and Blair go skinny-dipping at the Slash-M Dude Ranch.

Warning: It's a slash NC-17 PWP, folks. I think we all know what happens in slash stories when our boys get naked together.

Note: Thanks go to Owlet for a quick and dirty beta-reading of this quick and dirty PWP.

Series Note: "Twanger" is a story in the "Slash-M Dude Ranch" series (the first one to be posted, although not the first in the series) which is/will be written by various members of the Atl-Sen list (the Sentinel club for Georgian and other local fen).

Story Note: This story can be blamed entirely on Iffer, who not only brought over the tape with the evil Starsky eyebrows but pointed out the problem with riding spurs. And she encouraged me when I posed Blair as a bathing beauty. And she spread the eyebrow waggle to our friends. And she had better be writing the prequel to it, right?


Moonlight glittered on the tiny droplets of water that slid down the planes of Blair Sandburg's back as he rose out of the pool. James Ellison watched from the stream bank, entranced, as Blair rubbed his eyes clear and shook his head, braids flying. Blair turned and took one step up toward the shore, one braid trailing water down past his nipple, down his stomach, down towards his...

The next thing Jim knew, his ear was on fire and Blair was paddling lazily on the other side of the pool. He jerked and then froze again as the branches hiding him rustled; a bird whirred frantically away from his shoulder. Jim raised a cautious hand to his ear and poked gingerly at his earring. His fingers, when he brought them in front of his face, had a spot of blood from where the bird must have pecked at the shiny object.

He sighed, hoping Blair hadn't looked too closely in his direction while he'd been zoned. Blair might be comfortable enough to skinny-dip at midnight in the middle of the woods, but he hadn't invited anyone else along. Of course, that could have been because one of them was supposed to stay with the ranch's guests at all times, but still, Jim hadn't been invited. It hadn't been easy to follow Blair, either, since his partner had been still dressed in his Indian Guide uniform and Jim had had to clank along in cowboy spurs, trying not to loose his ten-gallon hat. Damn Simon for sending them undercover at the Slash-M Dude Ranch, anyway. They were never going to live this one down.

While he was at it, damn Blair for looking so sexy in the leather fringe pants and the pigtail braids, too. It was a good thing the buckle on the dude ranch's costume belt was large enough to hide the bulge in his chaps, but he had kept hooked his thumbs over it just in case. At least that way he had had an excuse for walking funny all day around Blair.

Oh oh, what was Blair doing? He wasn't-- but he was. Blair leaned back against the rocks behind the waterfall and slid his hand just under the water line, where Jim could just see the shadows between his legs. Blair's head tipped back as he groaned, muscles rippling across his bare chest, and Jim knew he needed to get close enough to watch. Unfortunately, after he squirmed backwards out of the bush, he stood up and slammed noisily into a low-lying tree branch. There was a yelp and frantic splashing from the water.

In for a penny, in for a pound, Jim decided, and hurried toward the sandy bank. He emerged from the underbrush in time to catch Blair knee-deep in the stream and still several yards from his clothes. Blair stopped dead.

"Oh, there you are, Chief," Jim said brightly.

"Jim!" Blair squeaked. "Man, you scared me half to death!" Jim glanced downward as casually as possible and decided that it wasn't surprising that Blair would squeak, since he was still erect enough to be shifting his center of gravity a half-foot forward. "Hey," Blair added, following Jim's eyes, "a little privacy, please?"

Jim hooked his thumbs carefully into his belt. "Since when have we ever had any privacy around each other?" he asked, dragging his eyes up to Blair's face each time they started straying downwards.

Blair rolled his eyes. "All right then, why don't you take your hat off and get comfortable?"

"Thank'ee kindly," Jim said, ignoring the sarcasm. "Ah do believe Ah will." He pulled off his hat, smirked, and hung it smartly from Blair's penis. "Ah'll even save your modesty, dear." Tucking his thumbs back into his belt, he waited.

Blair looked at the hat. He looked up at Jim, looked back down at the hat, crossed his arms, and lifted his head again to glare fixedly at Jim.

He didn't, however, drop the hat. Jim decided to take that as a preliminary sort of consent, so he settled to the ground next to Blair's clothes and adjusted his balls as he stretched out his legs. "Ah'm comfy," he announced.

"So I see," Blair said, looking him up and down. He picked up Jim's hat, shook himself like a dog, and settled the hat on his own head as he stepped out of the water. The image made Jim's head spin, and he leaned back as Blair stood over him. Modesty didn't seem to be a concern of his partner's at the moment. Blair licked his lips as he looked Jim over again, and Jim suddenly realized that he was sprawled on the ground in an incredibly vulnerable pose with no idea what his partner might want from him. He swallowed as Blair dropped one knee to the ground beside his hip, black spots floating across his eyes as most of the blood in his body swelled underneath his belt buckle, and he spread his legs invitingly so that Blair's other knee dropped between his thighs and nudged gently. "So," Blair said again, more to himself than to Jim, "it's like that." He wrapped both hands around his cock and smiled dangerously. "Tell me, cowboy," he crooned, "did you want to watch, or did you want to ride?"

Jim made a tiny incredulous noise. His Blair-fantasies were usually much more vanilla than this. Trust Blair to do nothing halfway -- and wasn't that a delicious thought...

"Well," Blair purred, "you can't gentle a wild stallion like me in spurs. I'm much too high-spirited to be ridden that way." He flexed his hips, the tip of his cock peeking out of his fists and then retreating again. Jim knew his eyes must be glazing over, but he twisted under Blair until he could toe both boots off. Blair chuckled and said, "Then again, maybe I should do the riding, since it looks like you're already broke to saddle." He reached down and tugged lightly at Jim's belt buckle.

Jim whimpered. To his embarrassment, it came out almost like a nicker, and Blair grinned. Nimble fingers unfastened the buckle and drew it slowly out of his pants, the supple leather hissing sensually through the belt loops. Jim shuddered, his elbows digging into the gritty soil of the creek bank.

One broad thumb caressed his cheek, and then Blair's hand slid around to cup the back of his neck as Blair leaned forward and guided Jim's mouth between his legs. Jim didn't need any encouragement to latch on and begin suckling, but Blair gave it to him anyway, moaning and rubbing the back of his head. Then Blair's leg slid forward as well, and Blair hooked a bare ankle in the small of Jim's back and rolled them both over onto the ground. Blair landed on his back and Jim was on his stomach between Blair's outstretched legs. Jim braced his forearms on Blair's thighs and wiggled a little farther up for a better angle, grunting happily as more of Blair's cock pressed down his throat. Then he clamped his lips tight and sucked as hard as he could.

Blair nearly bucked him off. Ride 'em, cowboy, the Wild West was never like this, he thought as he wrapped both arms around Blair's hips, rolling them onto their sides to reduce the other man's leverage. Blair landed heavily on his back again as Jim pulled slightly away to run his tongue up and down the shaft. The taste, which at first had been almost appallingly bitter, was becoming more familiar. He licked the precum from the head of Blair's penis and rolled it around in his mouth, savoring it, and then wrapped his mouth around as much as he could hold and suckled for more.

Gentle hands pulled him away from his prize, and Jim lifted his eyes to blink mournfully up at Blair. "Well," Blair said breathlessly, pushing Jim upright by his shoulders as Blair slid backwards and sat up, "you take the bit quite eagerly, don't you?"

It sounded like a question, so Jim nodded, cheeks flaming hotly as he belatedly realized what he was agreeing with. He stared down at his hands, which were propped in the dirt to keep him on all fours instead of flat on his stomach, and hoped that Blair was laughing with him, not at him. Hands slid around his waist, suddenly, from behind, and his pants were unfastened almost before he understood that Blair had moved. A tug at the waistband urged him to lift his hips, and his jeans and chaps were pulled down around his knees.

One warm hand pushed his shirttails out of the way as Blair leaned away, fingertips scrabbling for the edge of his leather vest. Jim watched out of the corner of his eye as Blair one-handedly fumbled open a pocket and pulled out a condom packet. Blair glanced up and grinned. "Always prepared, man." There was a rip of foil and then a long drawn-out sigh -- that must be Blair rolling on the condom, he thought -- and both of Blair's hands were stroking his hips now.

"Ooooh," Jim groaned as he was penetrated. He bowed his head and braced his hands more firmly in the sand. He felt Blair's palm come to rest against his buttock and thought that it was probably Blair's thumb that was wriggling inside him. Jim hissed at the pressure as Blair's other thumb pushed into him and spread him open, and then felt a warm breath across the small of his back just before delicate kisses tickled his spine.

The best way to gentle a wild animal is through love. Jim, crouched panting on his hands and knees in the woods, was feeling quite gentled.

Blair's thumbs withdrew slightly, and something broad and smooth slipped past them into Jim's body. He gasped, heard Blair release a choked cry of his own, and began trembling in delight as Blair's penis slid in deeply enough to strike sparks from the center of his belly. He felt Blair's strong hands shift their grip and pull Jim's hips back, closer to Blair's body; Jim shuddered all over, uncontrollably, as wiry hairs brushed at the backs of his thighs and then pressed tightly into his skin from knees to ass. Blair bent over him again, and this time the kisses fell across his shirt-covered shoulders.

"Shh," Blair was crooning, "shh, it's all right," and Jim whimpered in reply, arching his back into Blair's stomach and feeling, with a tiny frisson of wonder each time, the hot pressure from within against every flex of muscle. Slowly at first, Blair began rocking.

Jim dug his fingers into the dirt and held on, eyes closed, convinced that the world was spinning in dizzying circles underneath him. The smallest of Blair's movements sent exquisite pleasure shivering through him, and Blair's movements no longer felt small. Blair seemed enormous: his cock, his hands, and the presence of his body above and behind Jim's crouched form were taking Jim's breath away. Jim leaned back hard against Blair's legs, and was rewarded with a deep groan from Blair and a sudden tightening of the hands around his hips. It was like zoning out, but oh god so much better. His chin was tucked down almost to his chest and the heels of his hands were skidding out across the sand and his whole body was twisting and jerking as Blair fucked him...

Blair is fucking me. Blair is fucking me. Oh sweet spirits, Jim thought, and came.

Even in the throes of orgasm he could feel the difference, feel Blair inside him and against his back, feel the air chilly against his bare stomach, and his first coherent thought afterward was, I want it like this all the time. He didn't have a chance to think it immediately, though, because he had only begun to catch his breath again when Blair shifted his grip to pull Jim even closer and climaxed himself.

He could feel the strain where Blair's skin pressed against his own and hear it in Blair's harsh panting. He could even feel it in the heat and pressure within. Eyes closed, cheek laid to the cool sand, he shivered with the intimacy of it. As Blair relaxed, a slippery trickle of warm lubricant ran down the inside of his thigh. Careful hands stroked his sides and back as Blair peeled himself away, and he was urged onto his side. Jim hissed as he stretched his legs and arms languorously, cautious not only of the sore muscles but of the strange shadow impression of fullness in his ass.

Blair leaned over him as Jim rolled onto his back, smiling and rubbing soothing fingers across Jim's shoulders and chest. He was still wearing Jim's cowboy hat; seeing that, Jim smiled and reached up to tug playfully at the hat's brim. Blair laughed breathily, and his smile widened.

"What was that you were yelling as you came?" Blair asked after a minute, his voice still husky.

"Don't know," Jim replied. One of Blair's braids slid down from Blair's shoulder and tickled his chest. "Weren't you listening either?"

Blair laughed again. "I was a bit distracted, but it sounded like Quencha."

"Probably the Chopec equivalent of 'Oh my God!' then," Jim said absently, lifting his hand again to play with the damp tip of the braid that was trailing over the collar of his shirt.

"I'm flattered," Blair said, smile deepening.

Jim snorted. "You should be." He tugged at the braid. "That's quite a smug grin you've got there."

"Yeah, well." Blair ducked his head. "You like this hat, hmm?"

"Oh yeah," Jim said. "Can we keep it?"

"Can we do this again next time I wear it?"

And there was Blair's answer to the question that Jim hadn't even had time yet to worry about asking. "Yes," Jim said, and added, "as often as you like."

Blair dropped his eyes to follow the invisible patterns his fingertips were tracing across Jim's chest. "That could be fairly often," he said hesitantly.

"Good," Jim said with satisfaction. He stretched again, kicking his pants off of his ankles when he got tangled halfway.

Blair watched him, looking amused. "Locking the barn door after the horses are gone?"

"More like unlocking it once the horse was inside, Chief," Jim said, laughing.

Blair snorted. He propped himself farther up on his elbow and pointedly inspected their respective stages of undress and the scattering of undercover accessories. "We are rather silly, aren't we?" he asked, nudging Jim's spurred boots with his toes. "This the first time you've ever had sex with a guy in a cowboy hat?"

Jim paused. "First time I've ever had sex with a guy, with or without hat, Chief."

Blair's eyebrows flew up. "You're puttin' me on." Jim shook his head. Finally, Blair blinked and nodded. "Hell," he said, admiration in his voice, "you're a natural, then."

Jim wasn't quite sure what he could say in response to that, so he curled himself upright into a sitting position and started unbuttoning his shirt. The front of it was rather sticky, and Blair failed to hide a smile as he watched Jim inspect it at arm's length. Jim sighed and dropped the shirt by his boots. "You might want to take the hat off if we're going swimming again," he said, but he wound the chin strap of the hat in question around his finger under Blair's chin, not feeling any urgency about getting clean. His knuckles scrapped over the bristles of Blair's beard. "You look like the Marleboro Man," he said suddenly.

Blair laughed. "You're the cowboy here, Jim-bob."

"You're the one in the ten-gallon hat and the beard stubble," Jim pointed out. "Just-- ix-nay on the spurs and the riding crop, okay?" Blair leaned forward as he laughed, and with a queer sensation in the pit of his stomach Jim became unexpectedly conscious that he was sitting naked on the ground with another man kneeling over him. He could feel the heat of Blair's skin, inches away, and the puff of breath against his cheek told him just how near Blair's lips were...

A queer sensation indeed, he thought, and laughed. Blair raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Come on," Jim said, dropping his hand as he rose to his feet, "last one in the water has to do the dishes tomorrow." Blair yelped and scrambled for the creek, skidding down the sandspit and hitting the water just as Jim leapt from the bank with a tremendous splash.



(obEFF)

End.

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