As they approached the corral, Ben waved from the porch, wiping his hands on a towel. "Supper’s early!" he bellowed. "Venison stew!"
Jasper swung down from Raven, landing lightly. He held Daisy’s bridle as Owen dismounted, his legs trembling from the ride — and the lingering memory of Jasper’s touch. Jasper’s hand lingered on Owen’s lower back, guiding him toward the lodge. The contact burned through Owen’s skin like a brand.
Inside, the lodge hummed with chatter and the rich scent of venison stew. Men sat bare-skinned at long wooden tables, steam rising from bowls. Jasper steered Owen toward an empty bench near the fireplace. Hank waved from across the room, gesturing at the stew pot. "Get some meat on those bones, city boy!"
Jasper filled two bowls, thick chunks of venison swimming in dark gravy. He slid one to Owen, their fingers brushing as he passed a spoon. Owen took a cautious bite. The stew was earthy, savory, warming him from the inside. Jasper ate with steady focus, elbow nudging Owen’s arm whenever he leaned forward. Each touch felt deliberate.
"Sunset ride," Jasper murmured between bites. His knee pressed firmly against Owen’s beneath the table. "Meet me at the stables. Saddles stay behind." Owen’s pulse quickened. He nodded, unable to speak through the lump in his throat. Jasper’s leg withdrew slowly, leaving Owen’s skin cold where it had been.
Ben clanged a ladle against the stew pot. "Dessert!" he announced. "Berry cobbler!" A cheer rose as men lined up.
Jasper stood, stretching. His bare torso glistened in the firelight. "Gotta check Raven’s hoof," he said, low and intimate. "See you at dusk." He walked away, the sway of his shoulders holding Owen’s gaze until he vanished through the door.
Owen lingered over cobbler, the tart berries sharp on his tongue. Around him, conversations flowed — fishing tales, laughter over spilled ale, the crackle of the hearth. Yet the lodge felt cavernous without Jasper’s heat beside him.
He rose, leaving his bowl half-full. Outside, dusk painted the meadow in violet and gold. Cottonwood leaves rustled like whispered secrets. He walked toward the stables, gravel sharp underfoot, the cooling air raising goosebumps on his bare skin.
Jasper waited by the corral gate, silhouetted against the dying sun. Two horses stood ready, bareback pads strapped loosely over their backs. Daisy and Raven, coats gleaming like polished copper and obsidian. Jasper turned, his eyes catching the last light. He held out a hand. No words. Owen took it.
Jasper’s palm was rough, warm, and certain. He squeezed once, then released Owen’s hand to stroke Daisy’s neck. "Ready to ride free?"
Owen nodded, pulse drumming. Jasper helped him swing onto Daisy’s bare back, the thick pad’s coarse wool scratching Owen’s thighs. Jasper mounted Raven fluidly, settling close enough their knees brushed. He urged Raven forward without a word, Daisy falling in step beside him.
The meadow stretched before them, bathed in twilight gold. Cottonwood leaves shimmered like coins overhead. Jasper guided them off the trail, hooves sinking into thick grass that muffled their passage. The silence was profound — only the creak of leather girths and the horses’ soft snorts broke the hush.
Cool air kissed Owen’s skin as they climbed a gentle rise. Jasper slowed Raven at the crest, dismounting silently. Owen followed, his feet sinking into dew-damp grass. Below, the ranch lights flickered like distant stars. Jasper spread a worn saddle blanket on the ground, then pulled Owen down beside him. Their shoulders touched, skin radiating heat in the cooling dusk.
Jasper pointed west. "Watch."
The sun bled crimson into the horizon, painting the clouds in streaks of violet and tangerine. Shadows lengthened across Jasper’s face, etching the line of his jaw. Owen shivered — not from cold, but from the sheer, aching beauty of it.
Jasper shifted, his arm sliding around Owen’s waist, pulling him closer. Owen rested his head on Jasper’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of horse, sage, and sun-warmed skin. Jasper’s thumb traced idle circles on Owen’s hipbone.
"Sunset’s different bareback," Jasper murmured, his breath warm against Owen’s temple. "Feel the horse breathe under you. Feel the wind on your skin. No barriers." His hand slid up Owen’s spine, callouses catching faintly.
Owen turned his face, lips brushing Jasper’s collarbone. Jasper’s grip tightened, pulling him into a slow, deep kiss that tasted of wild berries and dusk. When they broke apart, the last sliver of sun vanished, leaving the meadow bathed in indigo. Fireflies sparked to life around them, drifting like embers in the gloom.
Jasper stood, offering his hand again. "Race you to the creek under moonlight?" His teeth flashed white in the dark. Owen grinned, heart pounding. They mounted swiftly, Jasper’s laugh echoing as they plunged downhill, bare skin glowing pale in the starlight, the night swallowing their thunder.
The creek shimmered below, a ribbon of liquid silver. Jasper leaned low over Raven’s neck, urging speed. Owen matched him stride for stride, the wind whipping tears from his eyes. Daisy’s muscles surged beneath him, the pad rough on his inner thighs.
Hooves struck water with a frigid slap, sending icy spray cascading over Owen’s belly and chest. He gasped, shuddering, as the chill stole his breath. Beside him, Jasper whooped, water sluicing down his torso, moonlight tracing the curves of his shoulders.
They reined in on the far bank, horses blowing steam into the cool air. Jasper slid off Raven, splashing through ankle-deep water toward Owen. His hands found Owen’s waist, pulling him down from Daisy. Owen stumbled against him, wet skin sliding on wet skin.
Jasper’s mouth crashed onto his — hot and demanding against the cold night. Owen melted into the kiss, fingers knotting in Jasper’s damp hair. The creek’s murmur faded beneath the roar of his own blood.
Jasper broke away only to guide Owen backward, step by dripping step, toward a thicket of willow shrubs screening the bank. Moonlight filtered through trembling leaves, dappling Jasper’s skin as he pressed Owen against a smooth, moss-covered boulder. The stone was cold against Owen’s back; Jasper’s body was fire pressed against his front.
Jasper’s hands roamed — rough palms mapping Owen’s ribs, thumbs circling his nipples until they peaked, nails scraping lightly down his flanks. He kissed Owen’s throat, teeth grazing his pulse.
"Quiet now," Jasper breathed, voice thick. "Or Hank’ll hear." His hand slid lower, fingers curling around Owen’s hardening length. Owen choked back a moan, arching into the touch.
Jasper stroked him slowly, his other hand gripping Owen’s hip, holding him pinned. The contrast — cold stone, hot skin, Jasper’s knowing grip — was overwhelming. Owen’s head fell back, baring his throat to the night sky. He watched the stars blur as Jasper’s rhythm quickened.
A low groan tore from Jasper’s throat as he pressed closer, his own arousal hot and heavy against Owen’s thigh. He kissed Owen again, deep and desperate, swallowing the ragged gasps. Owen’s climax crashed over him, sharp and silent, spilling hot sperm over Jasper’s fist.
Jasper followed moments later, shuddering against him, forehead pressed to Owen’s shoulder. They clung together in the willows’ shadow, breath mingling, the creek singing softly beside them. Jasper lifted his head, eyes dark pools in the moonlight. "Still racing?" he rasped, thumb wiping a stray drop from Owen’s belly. Owen’s shaky laugh was his answer.
They washed in the icy creek, gasping at the bite of the water, scrubbing away the evidence. Jasper tossed Owen his shirt. "Dry off," he murmured. "Night air’s sharp." The damp cotton felt rough against Owen’s skin as they remounted, guiding the horses back toward the distant ranch lights. Jasper rode close, their knees bumping rhythmically, his hand occasionally brushing Owen’s thigh — a silent reassurance in the deepening dark.
The corral gate creaked as they unsaddled Daisy and Raven. Jasper scooped water from the trough, pouring it over Raven’s steaming shoulders. Owen mimicked him, the chill shocking his hands.
"You," Jasper said suddenly, tossing Owen a dry rag. "Need a drink." He jerked his chin toward the lodge’s glowing porch. Hank leaned against a post, nursing a mug, watching their approach. "Boss caught us," Jasper added under his breath, a grin playing on his lips.
Owen froze, panic flaring. Jasper’s hand settled firmly on his lower back. "Easy. Hank knows everything."
As they neared, Hank raised his mug. "Enjoy the moonlight?" His tone held amusement, not censure.
Jasper chuckled. "Enough to need whiskey."
Hank nodded toward the lodge. "Ben saved the dregs."
Inside, the fire crackled low. Jasper poured two fingers of amber liquid into tin cups, handing one to Owen. The whiskey burned Owen’s throat, warmth spreading through his chest.
Hank settled into a worn armchair. "Ranch rule," he said quietly, eyes sharp. "What happens under the stars stays there. But eyes open, city boy." He nodded toward Jasper, who leaned against the hearth, firelight catching the water droplets on his shoulders. "Hearts get tangled easy out here." Jasper met Owen's gaze, unflinching. The whiskey's warmth paled against the heat in Jasper's eyes. Owen's fingers tightened around the tin cup.
Outside, the night deepened. Crickets thrummed in the meadow. Jasper drained his cup. "Walk?" His voice was low gravel. Owen followed him onto the porch. Cool air raised gooseflesh on Owen's bare arms. Jasper led him past the lodge, toward the shadowed path to the cabins. Pine needles muffled their footsteps.
Halfway to cabin seven, Jasper stopped beneath a gnarled oak. Moonlight silvered his cheekbones. "Hank's right," Jasper murmured. "This place ... it gets inside you." He stepped closer, palm settling warm and heavy on Owen's sternum. Owen felt the frantic thump of his own heart against Jasper's calloused skin. Jasper leaned in, breath ghosting Owen's ear. "Don't overthink. Just feel it." His lips brushed Owen's temple — a whisper of contact that sparked down Owen's spine.
The cabin door loomed dark behind them. Jasper's thumb traced Owen's jawline. "Tomorrow's chore day," he said, voice thick. "Fence-mending. Sweat and splinters." His gaze dropped to Owen's mouth. "Tonight ..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to. His hand slid down Owen's chest, fingers splaying possessively over his ribs, pulling him flush against the solid heat of Jasper's body.
Owen tilted his head back, the oak's rough bark catching his bare shoulder blades. Jasper kissed him slowly, deeply – tasting of whiskey and creek water and something wild. His calloused hands explored Owen’s back, tracing the sensitive dip of his spine, kneading the muscles still humming from the ride. Owen gasped into Jasper’s mouth as fingers skimmed lower, teasing the curve of his ass.
"Inside," Jasper breathed against his throat, nipping lightly. He fumbled behind Owen, finding the cabin door handle, pushing it open without breaking contact. They stumbled over the threshold into the dimness smelling of pine logs and saddle soap. Jasper kicked the door shut with his boot heel, plunging them into near darkness broken only by moonlight slicing through the window. He pressed Owen against the rough-hewn wall, his knee nudging Owen’s thighs apart. Jasper’s erection was a hard ridge against Owen’s hipbone.
His hands gripped Owen’s waist, lifting him effortlessly onto the narrow wooden table by the window. Owen’s skin scraped against the scarred surface. Jasper stepped between his knees, his hands rough and urgent on Owen’s thighs, pushing them wider. Moonlight illuminated the focused intensity on Jasper’s face, the sheen of sweat on his brow, the pulse hammering in his throat. He leaned down, kissing Owen hard, teeth catching his lower lip. Owen gasped, fingers tangling in Jasper’s hair.
Jasper broke away, breathing ragged. His calloused palms slid up Owen’s ribs, thumbs brushing his nipples until Owen arched upward with a choked moan. Jasper’s mouth followed — hot, wet trails down Owen’s sternum, tongue swirling around one nipple before sucking it deep. Owen cried out, hips jerking.
Jasper chuckled low in his throat, biting gently before releasing him. "Quiet," he murmured, nipping Owen’s hipbone. "Walls are thin."
He dropped to his knees. Owen froze, pulse thundering as Jasper’s hands slid under his thighs, lifting him forward. Jasper’s breath ghosted over Owen’s straining cock — hot, deliberate. Then his mouth closed over the head, tongue swirling the slit. Owen stifled a shout against his fist, spine bowing off the table.
Jasper swallowed him deeper, slow and thorough, throat working around his length. The wet heat, the suction, the scrape of stubble against his thighs — Owen trembled, legs shaking uncontrollably.
Jasper pulled back, gaze locked on Owen’s face. His thumb rubbed slick precum over Owen’s tip. "Want you to feel every fucking second," he rasped. He leaned in again, taking Owen to the root, nose pressed against coarse curls. Owen’s hips bucked helplessly. Jasper pinned him down with strong hands, controlling the pace — deep, relentless strokes that dragged moans from Owen’s clenched teeth.
Pressure coiled unbearably low. Owen’s knuckles whitened on the table edge. Jasper’s fingers dug into his hips, urging him deeper. A groan vibrated against Owen’s skin. Jasper’s free hand slid beneath, fingers circling Owen’s anal sphincter — dry, demanding. Owen gasped at the rough intrusion, the stretch, the dizzying duality of sensations. Jasper sucked harder, fingers twisting slightly inside him. Owen shattered — a silent scream tearing through him as he spewed his load down Jasper’s throat. Jasper swallowed, fingers stilling, eyes dark with satisfaction as he eased Owen through the aftershocks.
Slowly, Jasper rose, wiping his mouth. His own erection strained against Owen’s hip. He pulled Owen upright, kissing him deeply, sharing the taste of salt and musk. "Tomorrow," he breathed against Owen’s lips, "after the fences." He backed toward the door, eyes holding Owen’s. "Sleep naked. Dream of me." The latch clicked shut behind him. Owen slid to the floor, trembling, the moonlight cool on his flushed skin.
Morning dawned sharp and bright. Outside cabin seven, Owen tugged on worn work gloves Hank had tossed him earlier — the only concession to clothing besides boots. His thighs still hummed from yesterday’s ride, and deeper muscles ached with the memory of Jasper’s hands. He joined the crew by the tool shed, men passing coiled wire and fence posts bare-chested in the chill air. Jasper stood near the flatbed, hammer slung low on his hip. Their eyes met — a spark, hot and immediate — before Jasper turned to load posts.
Hank assigned Owen to Jasper’s team. They drove west in the rattling truck, bouncing over rutted trails toward a collapsed section near the ridge. Jasper steered with one hand, the other resting casually on Owen’s thigh whenever the truck jolted. Each touch lingered, charged.
At the fence line, Jasper tossed Owen a post-hole digger. "Dig deep, city boy."
The sun climbed, baking their shoulders as they worked side by side. Jasper’s sweat-slicked back glistened, muscles shifting with each swing of his hammer. Owen’s gaze kept drifting — the sweat tracing Jasper’s spine, the dust coating his calves. Jasper caught him looking and winked, driving a nail home with a solid thunk.
Noon brought shade under a lone juniper. Jasper uncorked a canteen, drinking deep before handing it to Owen. Water sluiced down Owen’s chin. Jasper watched, then leaned close, wiping the drip with his thumb. "You’re sunburning," he murmured, tracing Owen’s pink shoulder. His touch ignited a fresh wave of heat.
They finished repairs as shadows lengthened. Jasper tested the fence wire, pulling it taut. "Solid," he declared, wiping grime from his brow. He jerked his chin toward the truck. "Ride back’s smoother." But instead of climbing in, he gripped Owen’s wrist. "This way first."
He led Owen behind a granite outcrop, hidden from view. Sun-warmed stone radiated against their backs. Jasper pinned him there, kissing him hard — all heat and dust and urgency. His calloused hand slid between them, gripping Owen’s cock through the worn denim of his glove. Owen gasped, arching into the friction.
Jasper’s mouth moved to his ear. "Tonight," he promised, voice rough. "My cabin. After dark." He stepped back, leaving Owen breathless against the rock, the promise echoing louder than the wind.
The ride back was a blur of heat and anticipation. Jasper drove one-handed, the other resting on Owen’s knee, thumb tracing slow circles on the sensitive skin above his boot. Every rut in the trail jolted them closer, shoulders brushing, thighs pressing. Owen stared straight ahead, pulse hammering against his ribs.
At the ranch yard, Jasper leapt from the truck. "Shower," he tossed over his shoulder, already stripping off his gloves. "You stink of sweat and creosote." Owen watched him stride toward the bunkhouse, the late sun gilding the dust on his shoulders, the powerful flex of his calves. The ache in Owen’s own muscles deepened – a blend of labor and raw want.
Under the lukewarm spray of the communal showers, Owen scrubbed mechanically. Steam rose around naked bodies – easy laughter, shared soap. Jasper stood beneath the farthest nozzle, head tipped back, water sluicing the grime from his chest. He met Owen’s gaze across the tiled space, a slow, deliberate smile curving his lips before he turned, offering the lean expanse of his back – the twin dimples above his hips, the taut curve of his ass barely visible through the steam. Owen’s breath caught. He rinsed quickly, toweled off, the coarse fabric rasping over skin still humming.
Dusk thickened as Owen paced cabin seven’s porch, barefoot on cool wood. The ranch settled into evening quiet – distant clatter from the kitchen, a horse’s soft whicker. He traced the scar on his palm Jasper had kissed. Footsteps crunched gravel. Jasper emerged from the shadows, carrying a bottle and two tin cups. He wore only low-slung jeans, unbuttoned, riding his hipbones. Moonlight silvered the trail of dark hair leading beneath the denim.
"Whiskey," Jasper said, handing Owen a cup. His fingers brushed Owen’s, deliberate. "For courage." He leaned against the porch rail, the bottle dangling loosely. "Or forgetfulness." He took a long swallow, throat working, eyes never leaving Owen’s. The silence pulsed between them – heavy with creek water, sweat, and Jasper’s promise against granite.
Owen sipped. Fire burned down his throat. Jasper stepped closer, crowding him against the cabin wall. His scent – pine soap and horse and Jasper – enveloped Owen. Jasper lifted Owen’s chin with a knuckle. "Done thinking?" His thumb brushed Owen’s lower lip, tasting of whiskey and salt. Owen nodded, mute. Jasper’s smile was fierce. He took the cup, set it down with a clank, and pulled Owen inside. The door clicked shut. Outside, the meadow held its breath.
Moonlight sliced through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the sudden stillness. Jasper backed Owen toward the narrow bunk, hands firm on his hips. His jeans rasped against Owen’s bare thighs. "All day," Jasper murmured, lips grazing Owen’s jawline, "watching sweat carve paths down your back." His calloused palms slid up Owen’s sides, thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of his ribs.
Owen shuddered, arching instinctively. Jasper’s mouth found the frantic pulse in his throat, teeth scraping lightly. "Every swing of that hammer." He nipped Owen’s collarbone. "Every time you bit your lip, concentrating." His hands slid lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of Owen’s jeans.
Jasper straightened, gaze raking Owen’s nakedness – pale skin flushed pink from sun and labor, the fine tremor in his thighs, the hard length of his cock already slick at the tip. Jasper’s own erection strained visibly against worn denim. Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his jeans, shoving them down his hips. The denim hit the floorboards with a heavy thud. He kicked them aside, naked now, moonlight catching the dust still clinging to his calves, the powerful lines of his shoulders, the thick jut of his arousal. He closed the distance, bare skin colliding – hot, urgent.
Owen gasped as Jasper’s rough hands gripped his ass, lifting him bodily onto the bunk. The coarse wool blanket scratched Owen’s back. Jasper followed him down, a solid weight pinning Owen to the thin mattress. His mouth crashed onto Owen’s – hungry, demanding. Owen tasted whiskey, dust, Jasper. Fingers tangled in sweat-damp hair, hips grinding. Jasper’s thigh slid between Owen’s legs, pressing hard against his cock. Owen cried out, the sound swallowed by Jasper’s kiss.
Jasper broke away, panting. "Need you," he rasped, his eyes black holes in the moonlight. He reached toward the small shelf beside the bunk, fumbling blindly. His fingers closed around a small tin jar – saddle salve, smelling sharply of beeswax and pine tar. He popped the lid. The scent intensified.
Cool, slick fingers probed Owen’s entrance – one, then two, working him open with ruthless efficiency. Owen gasped, back bowing off the bunk at the rough intrusion. Jasper watched him, jaw tight, his own cock weeping onto Owen’s belly.
"Ready?" Jasper’s voice was raw gravel. Owen nodded frantically. Jasper withdrew his fingers, positioned himself, and pushed forward in one smooth, relentless thrust. Owen’s cry tore through the cabin. Jasper sank deep, hilting himself, stretching Owen impossibly full. He paused, trembling, sweat dripping onto Owen’s chest. "Breathe," Jasper commanded, voice thick.
Owen gulped air, the sharp sting fading into a deep, throbbing ache. Jasper began to move – slow, deep pulls that dragged moans from Owen’s throat. The bunk frame creaked a rhythm beneath them. Jasper leaned down, sucking on Owen’s shoulder, his pace quickening.
The world narrowed to sweat-slick skin, the slap of flesh, Jasper’s ragged breaths hot against his ear, and the relentless friction building low in his belly. Owen wrapped his legs around Jasper’s waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. Jasper groaned, his thrusts turning frantic.
Owen’s vision whited out. Release crashed over him like a wave, body locking around Jasper, who followed with a guttural shout, jetting his sperm deep inside him. They collapsed, tangled, sticky, spent. Outside, an owl hooted. The creek murmured faintly in the distance. Jasper’s heartbeat thundered against Owen’s ribs.
Slowly, Jasper eased out, rolling onto his side. He pulled Owen against him, arms wrapping possessively around his waist. Their sweat mingled, cooling in the night air drifting through the open window. Jasper traced idle patterns on Owen’s hipbone — circles that spiraled inward, then out.
Neither spoke. The silence wasn’t empty; it thrummed with the echo of their breaths, the lingering heat between them.
A soft knock shattered the quiet. Hank’s voice, low and urgent, cut through the dark. "Jasper? Need you at the barn. Yearling’s colicky."
Jasper froze, then sighed. His lips brushed Owen’s temple — a fleeting apology. He rose, moving fluidly in the moonlight, pulling on his jeans without buttoning them. At the door, he paused, silhouetted against the porch light Hank held. "Don’t go anywhere," he murmured. The latch clicked shut.
Owen lay alone in the bunk, Jasper’s scent clinging to the blanket. He touched the place where Jasper’s mouth had marked his shoulder — a faint sting, a brand. Outside, hurried footsteps faded toward the barn. He rose, restless, padding to the window.
The barn lights blazed, casting long shadows. Hank and Jasper bent over a thrashing foal in the corral, silhouettes urgent against the hay-strewn ground. Jasper’s bare back gleamed with sweat as he worked, muscles straining.
Cool air prickled Owen’s skin. He reached for Jasper’s discarded shirt — flannel, soft from wear — and pulled it on. The fabric draped to his thighs, smelling of saddle leather and Jasper. He stepped onto the porch, leaning against the rail.
Distant shouts carried from the barn. Jasper’s voice, sharp with command: "Hold her head!" The foal’s distressed whinnies sliced the night.
Owen’s gaze drifted upward. The Milky Way sprawled across the black velvet sky — a river of stars Jasper had promised to show him. He shivered, not from cold, but from the sudden hollow in his chest. The shirt sleeves swallowed his hands. He curled his fingers into the cuffs, watching Jasper kneel beside the foal, a dark shape murmuring comfort into twitching ears. Dawn was hours away. The night felt vast, unfinished.
Footsteps crunched on gravel. Ben approached, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. He paused beside Owen, following his gaze to the barn. "Nasty business, colic," Ben sighed, his voice low. "That filly’s tough, though. Jasper’s got a way with the spooked ones." He offered Owen a tin mug of steaming coffee. "Here. Looks like you need it more’n me."
Owen accepted the mug, warmth seeping into his palms. The coffee was bitter, strong, anchoring him. "Will she be okay?" he asked, voice rough.
Ben shrugged, watching Jasper lift the foal’s head gently. "Hard to say. Jasper’s the best we got for this. He’ll fight for her." He glanced sideways at Owen, taking in the overlarge shirt, the bare legs beneath the hem. A knowing smile touched his lips. "Heard you two tore up the creek bank earlier. Hank was grumbling about reckless riding." He chuckled softly. "Looked like fun."
Jasper’s voice rose, sharp with urgency. "Hot water, Hank! Now!" Hank scrambled toward the trough pump. Jasper began massaging the foal’s swollen belly, his movements rhythmic and firm, shoulders straining under the dim barn light.
Owen gripped the mug tighter, the coffee’s heat a small counterpoint to the chill knotting his own stomach. He remembered those hands on his skin just hours before — their strength, their gentleness. Seeing them work tirelessly for the suffering animal twisted something deep inside him.
Ben clapped Owen’s shoulder. "He’ll be awhile. Sun’ll be up before this settles. You should get some rest." He nodded toward cabin seven. Owen didn’t move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jasper’s silhouette — the intense focus, the sweat gleaming on his brow even in the cool night air. The promise of Jasper’s cabin, the whiskey taste, the feel of denim rasping against bare thighs … it felt suspended, fragile against the raw struggle unfolding in the corral.
Owen sipped the harsh coffee, letting its bite anchor him to the porch, to the vigil, to the man whose hands were saving a life under the indifferent stars. The ache in his own body was a distant echo now, replaced by a different kind of yearning — for the foal’s quiet breath, for Jasper’s tired eyes to find his across the distance. He pulled the flannel shirt tighter around him, inhaling Jasper’s scent, and waited.
The foal’s thrashing subsided into exhausted tremors. Jasper knelt motionless beside her, one hand resting on her heaving flank, the other stroking her sweat-darkened neck. Hank hauled steaming buckets, the water sloshing as he poured it carefully near her muzzle.
When Jasper finally lifted his head, his gaze cut straight through the darkness to Owen’s porch. Even from afar, Owen saw the exhaustion etched into Jasper’s shoulders, the grim set of his mouth easing into something softer as their eyes locked. Jasper nodded once — a small, fierce gesture that meant she’ll live.
Jasper rose slowly, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. He murmured something to Hank, who clapped his shoulder before heading toward the main barn. Jasper strode across the yard, gravel crunching under his boots. Dawn’s first pale light edged the eastern ridge, washing his bare chest in silver. He stopped at the bottom step of Owen’s porch, looking up. Dirt smudged his jaw, sweat tracked lines through the grime on his chest. The unbuttoned jeans hung low, revealing the dip of his hips.
"Long night," Jasper rasped. His voice was sandpaper rough.
Owen descended a step, closing the gap. He reached out, brushing a smear of mud from Jasper’s collarbone. "You saved her."
Jasper caught Owen’s wrist, his thumb pressing into the pulse point. "Needed an anchor," he admitted, his gaze dropping to Owen’s lips. "I kept seeing you here." He tugged Owen forward until their bare feet touched on the cool wood. The air between them hummed with shared fatigue and simmering heat. Jasper leaned in, his forehead resting against Owen’s temple. "Smelled you on my shirt," he murmured, breath warm against Owen’s ear. "All night."
Owen turned his head, their lips a breath apart. The coffee bitterness, the horse sweat, the lingering pine tar — Jasper tasted of the ranch’s raw truth. The kiss was slow, deep, anchoring. Jasper’s hand slid beneath the borrowed flannel shirt, palm rough and warm against Owen’s lower back, pulling him flush against the damp grit of Jasper’s chest.
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