Chapter Nine

SUMMER HEAT gave way to the cooler temperatures of autumn. The trees surrounding the cabin were at the peak of change. Mother Nature had painted her landscape in a full display of vibrant greens, golds, and fiery reds. Clay had always loved fall. The season of hayrides, apple cider, pumpkins, and big thick sweaters. The only thing that dampened his love of it was what came next—winter. However, this year he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had too much to do before the first snowfall. He was beginning to worry they were running out of time.

Why had he thought he could take on a project this extensive so late in the year? They still had insulation to install, windows and doors to weatherproof, and supplies to gather and store. Clay had thought Elliott was nuts and wasting valuable time when he’d insisted on that damn skylight in the bedroom. Clay hadn’t been happy. He was all for upgrades, but they really needed to prioritize. He admitted easily that the skylight was fricken awesome and on sunny winter days would warm up the room nicely. The fireplace would do the same, only it would keep everything toasty rain, snow, or shine. Plus it was too late to reconsider the new fireplace, since currently there was a gaping hole in the side of the cabin. He and Elliott would no doubt enjoy it, kicking back in front of a roaring fire rather than snuggling up in front of a potbelly stove. The fireplace could also be used to cook and boil water. If they lost solar power and god forbid propane, at least they wouldn’t starve, have to resort to taking cold baths, or more importantly freeze to death. But first, he had to build the damn thing.

Clay tucked his hair beneath his ball cap and got busy. He turned off the water hose and ran the mixer through the mortar mix until it was the right consistency. The strain in his muscles as he hoisted the five-gallon bucket up onto the scaffolding easily compared to the trip after trip he and Elliott made down to the river carrying back load after load of river rocks. Hey, but at least they now had running water, and there would be no more treks down to retrieve buckets of water. A bright moment for sure.

Clay climbed up on the scaffolding between the two piles of rocks, one with large boulders and the other with smaller rocks. Putting the chimney together was backbreaking work, but Clay enjoyed the challenge, trying to figure out how the rocks fit together like a huge and really heavy jigsaw puzzle. The mortar like a little cheat that forced the pieces together.

He spent the better part of two hours on the project, making great progress, singing Alan Jackson and George Strait songs at the top of his lungs. Grooving and working and loving every minute. When he heard Elliott’s truck pull into the drive, it was a great excuse for a break. Although the weather was cooler, Clay had worked up quite a sweat. An ice-cold beer sounded like heaven. He wiped his hands on his bibs and climbed down.

He rounded the cabin just as Elliott stepped out of the truck, looking dapper in his pale blue plaid shirt and bright yellow bow tie.

“How’d it go in town?” Clay asked.

“I got everything on the list and then some.”

“Then some?” Clay asked warily. Elliott had no concept of budget. They were going to have to spend some time going over figures again.

“Yup.” Elliott jogged around to the passenger side, opened the door, and retrieved a white box.

“Whatcha got there?”

Elliott held up the box with a bright smile on his face. “Cupcakes!”

“No way! Where did you find those?”

Town consisted of nothing more than a church, bar, post office, and a small general store. They’d gotten to know most of the locals either by name or face. It wasn’t difficult considering the population barely broke three hundred. He and Clay were there a lot. With no postal delivery to the cabin and everything too far away, they ordered most of the supplies they needed, and they were always needing something.

“Bill’s wife sent them to you.”

Clay started to laugh. Bill worked at the post office, and Clay might have mentioned once or a hundred times that what the town needed was a bakery that specialized in cupcakes. Clay took the offered box and opened it. The cupcakes were decorated in a variety of colors and shapes. They looked like they’d come from a high-end bakery. “Wow, Sylvia made these? They look amazing.”

“Yeah, apparently Sylvia ran a bakery for about twenty years before she and Bill retired to move to North Dakota. Bill probably complained to her about you whining about the town’s lack of cupcakes.”

“I’m so not even a bit sorry if this is my reward. I’m going to have to get her a thank-you gift. Bill too. But first….” He lifted the box. “How about cupcakes and coffee before we unload the truck.”

“Damn, if I’d have known all I needed to get out of work was to bring you cupcakes, I’d have ordered a whole tractor trailer full.”

“You’re not getting out of work. I have a full day of chores planned for you. Just getting a little fuel for all those muscles you’re going to need today.”

“Then I should have picked up steak and spinach,” Elliott grumbled, following Clay around to the back of the cabin. “Holy shit, you got a lot done. This looks amazing. I’m really impressed.”

“I’m loving it,” Clay responded, pushing out his chest a little in pride. “It’s turning out even better than I thought it would. I can’t wait to see the finished project.”

“I can’t wait to sit in front of it with a roaring fire, an ice-cold beer, and nothing to do but hug you and watch a movie.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “While I like the picture you paint, you’re starting to sound like a broken record with your complaints about working.”

“You going to try and say you’re not looking forward to finally being able to take a break and just chill for a while? We’ve been busting our balls for years and I’m sorry if I sound like a whiner but damn, I think we’ve earned a little downtime.”

“You’re right. We do deserve it.” Clay bounded up the back stairs and held the door open for Elliott. “I’m going to get down right now with these cupcakes.”

“Boo. That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

“Of course I do, but nothing we can do about it today.” Clay maneuvered his way around the mess in the living room, set the box on the counter, then started a pot of coffee. The beer he’d intended to have no longer sounded so good.

Clay turned and leaned against the counter, watching Elliott as he examined the mess that was to be the new fireplace. The look of appreciation on his face was all Clay needed to see. His man was proud of how their little cabin was coming along even if it was currently a dusty mess.

Since making the decision to move from Dickinson and start the next journey of their lives in a remote area, they’d turned Papa’s little weekend getaway shack into a true home. Solar panels provided electricity, the large propane tank and generator a reassuring backup during times of no sun. The place was also plumbed, and the water that was brought up from the river ran through a high-tech filtration system. Once the fireplace was complete, they could finally begin to pull their personal belongings out of the shed and put their true imprint on the place.

Wow, all those years ago, those many weekends he’d spent here with Papa, Clay had wished he could live at the cabin. As an adult, even after Papa passed away, he hadn’t dug out that childhood dream. Funny how it had been Elliott who’d done that.

“You going to share those?”

Blinking at Elliott, who was standing in front of him looking at him expectantly, Clay gave himself an internal shake. It was only then that he realized he’d zoned out, hand possessively resting on the box, the coffee ready. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.”

Elliott put two mugs and some paper plates on the counter. “Obviously. What had you zoning out?”

Clay grabbed the carafe and filled the mugs. “It wasn’t until this very moment that I remembered I used to pray when I was a little kid that I never had to go home. That I could stay at the cabin forever.”

“And now you can.”

Clay laid his palm against Elliott’s cheek, thumb rubbing the soft hair on his chin. “Thanks to you. I always hoped Papa and I could stay forever, but as much as I miss him, I can honestly say this dream, having you here, is better than anything I could have wished for. I love you, babe.”

“I love you too.” Elliott’s smile was gentle. He turned his head and kissed Clay’s palm. “But you’re still sharing those cupcakes.”

“Damn, I really thought that would work.” Clay laughed. He opened the box and gestured toward it. “Help yourself.”

Elliott plucked a chocolate cupcake with a raspberry on top. “I know you too well to be fooled so easily.”

“Another reason I love you. You accept me for all my faults.” A swell of emotion formed in Clay’s throat and he swallowed hard to push it down. The realization that this was his home and he was sharing it with the one person he loved more than life itself hit him unexpectedly and hard. He turned his gaze away from Elliott when his eyes began to burn with unshed tears. He used the excuse of staring into the box, trying to decide which flavor he wanted.

Before Clay could choose, Elliott set his cupcake down, slid his hand around Clay’s waist, and turned him. He waited until Clay met his gaze before he spoke. “And you accept me for all of mine, which isn’t always easy, I know. But if I had any doubt about this crazy plan of ours, you’ve wiped those away. We got this. Not only do we got this, but we are two very lucky bastards.”

Elliott wasn’t helping in the least with the emotions wreaking havoc in Clay. He could only nod in response, then kiss Elliott until he got himself under control, and they were both a little breathless.

“Wow, another reason I’m a lucky bastard.” Elliott released his hold on Clay. “Now eat your cupcake and let’s get busy, huh?”

“You must be worried about things getting mushy if you’re rushing me.” Clay chuckled. The smirk on Elliott’s face said it all. Elliott liked to think he was a big bad macho man, but at heart, he was a teddy bear. A whiny one, but Clay knew he did it most of the time just to get a rise out of Clay—or to get out of work.

THE FIRE was a modest one and they’d had to wait twenty-four hours before they could build it, but lying on the rug before it, with Clay in his arms, made the wait and the work worth it. Elliott ran his fingertips gently over Clay’s chest, following the patterns the dancing flames cast upon his flesh. Elliott leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Clay’s neck below his ear, then nipped the lobe. “This is so much nicer than the stove. Then again….”

Clay turned his head and captured Elliott’s mouth in a brief but smoldering kiss. “Then again, what?” he asked against Elliott’s lips.

“You’d look smoking hot no matter what fire you were lying in front of.”

Clay reached up and slid his palm along Elliott’s jaw, then around to the back of his head. He flicked his tongue playfully, teasing Elliott’s bottom lip. “Are you trying to get in my pants?”

Moving his free hand downward, Elliott brushed his fingers along Clay’s chest to the hard plains of his stomach, farther down to tease the tip of Clay’s cock, then wrapped his hand around it, stroking it. “You’re not wearing any.”

Clay thrust up into Elliott’s hand. “Oh yeah. Good call on my part, huh?”

“I appreciate it immensely.” Elliott continued to stroke Clay from tip to base, enjoying the way the soft skin on his cock moved against Elliott’s palm. He gazed at Clay, and the fire reflecting in his eyes made him appear wild. It was totally appropriate considering Elliott was feeling wildly turned on.

“How much?”

Elliott continued to stare at Clay for a few heartbeats, speeding the movements of his strokes on Clay’s impressive length, letting the anticipation and arousal grow. Without a word, he extricated himself from Clay’s embrace and in one deft move was between Clay’s legs. Instead of his hand around Clay’s cock, Elliott took it deep into his mouth. Hands landed on the back of Elliott’s head, and he took Clay even deeper into his throat.

“Damn, Elliott, that… that….” Clay curled his hands in Elliott’s hair, thrusting a little, moving with the rhythm Elliott had set. “Fuck that feels good.”

Without restricting any of Clay’s movements, Elliott relaxed his jaw and allowed Clay to take what he wanted and what he needed. Clay’s movements, his flavor on Elliott’s tongue, and the erotic sounds pouring from Clay, ramped up Elliott’s arousal tenfold. As Clay found his own rhythm, Elliott found a new one. He shifted slightly, straddling Clay’s calf, pressing his erection against it. The friction was the last thing Elliott needed to push him to the edge.

Elliott hadn’t planned for it to be a quickie, had planned to draw out the pleasure. However, he couldn’t slow down and the way Clay was fucking his mouth with such passion, Elliott knew he couldn’t be stopped. He didn’t fight it, giving in to what their bodies demanded.

Seven years they’d been together, seven years of learning and loving and adapting. It was no surprise that Elliott was able to read Clay’s body like a well-loved book. Knew the meaning behind each sound, each movement, and when he came, he drank him down, savoring each drop, while he rode out his own orgasm.

After the high, Elliott moved up to lie next to Clay and rested his head in the crook of Clay’s arm. They held each other, hands roaming, sharing soft kisses, their sweat-dampened bodies kept warm by the fires they’d inflamed in each other as well the one burning in the structure they’d created.

Their hard work was paying off in the most delicious kind of way. Elliott had worried about spending too much time together but weeks in, both good and frustrating times, this… this moment, right here, alleviated most of his fears. They were meant for each other. They played hard, worked hard, and most importantly loved hard.