| Roll away your stone, I'll roll away mine | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 4 2018, 09:16 PM (12 Views) | |
| Quincy Evans | Jan 4 2018, 09:16 PM Post #1 |
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Quincy had been born blessed, that was what everyone always said and to a certain extent he supposed he had to believe it. He had been born into money when money was scarce. He had survived with money when money had become even more scarce. His family were kings amongst men; kings that were eyed with envy and suspicion. The Evans household had always had money. Quincy couldn't tell you where it came from because it seemed after a certain point you stopped knowing where it had originally came from and became comfortable in knowing that your money was making money. He was sure it was because some great, great grandfather had worked extra hard so that his line would always be comfortable. Or maybe it had been just luck of the draw. No one seemed to remember anymore and the idea of people needing to know where it came from was a silly notion. You were suppose to laugh that off at parties because it wasn't socially polite to demand where it came from. Maybe in private discussion it was something that could be discussed but you weren't suppose to be blatant about it. Quincy supposed that he didn't care ultimately. He had money, his family was comfortable, and he wasn't like some of the people in this country that struggled to survive to some kind of old age. He was happy in knowing that he would never have to work a day in his life if he was smart. And if there was one thing that was a fact, it was Evans men were smart. And then things changed. The stock market crashed, so many people were without jobs and people were suddenly homeless. The sad thing was that Quincy hadn't realized things had changed all that much. His father had taken a small dent, but he had been a man who had spread himself wide. He had spread his fingers out into everything so that if one thing failed, it wasn't everything that he had owned. Life had been so good for them that people became immediately suspicious. They had had police over, federal agents, the whole like of them poking their noses into the family. And what they found was clean because Evans men were smart. One day maybe his father would be found out, but today wasn't that day. Today people seemed to be willing to look on him with envy because of his good fortune but all anyone could say was that he was smart. Maybe it had to do with the fact that no one wanted to believe a preacher was capable of doing things like stealing or making money. They were a good christian family, he had heard one cop say to another in a tone that said they should be leaving the Evanses alone. They had a reprieve. They had been convinced Quincy's father spread his resources equally so that while the stock market crashing had pressed against him some, it was like a great leviathan brushing past them in the night. They were blessed, his father had said, it was the good fortune of being who they were. This was God blessing them, his father had always said to him and his brother. This was God taking care of his own and showing the world what it meant to have need for something. The wicked should be punished and all that. Honestly, Quincy wondered when he would be punished. It was easy to nod alongside his father's words, keep stony faced and silent as he talked all about the sins of man. He never seemed to realize his own two sons were a full of sin, but Quincy didn't think he or Caleb would ever take a chance to announce it to him. Maybe whispered upon his death bed so he could die knowing, but until then, they could be perfect sons. And perfect sons went out to strike things on their own. Caleb had gone off to some city, probably playing high king with all the money their family had. Quincy, on the other hand, had decided he liked a quieter life, a simpler life. When he had been young, he had always loved the idea of a farm. It sounded so fun – never really had to buy your food because you grew it yourself, there was so much space between you and your neighbors that you never got in the city, there were animals. A farm sounded like the perfect option for him, even when people said he had no clue what he was doing. He had scoffed and rolled his eyes and done what Evans men were known for – he plowed right ahead and did it anyway to prove that he could. Unfortunately people were right. He had no clue what he was doing on a farm. He had never even had to work a day in his life. He had always been taken care of. What did he do with all this land? What did he do with all these animals? The blessing this time was that people were always looking for work and they were looking for any work that paid, even if that pay was the worst they had ever seen. Some money was better than no money. Quincy had people come in and take care of it and he got to look out proudly over the land to see what it became. IT was his land, he told himself, it was his farm. Even with other people tending to it. One day, he told himself, he would learn how to take care of it, he would learn to work the land like they did...at the same time it looked like so much work to do all of that. It looked tiring and hot and maybe just a bit disgusting. And Quincy held onto that thought until he saw one of the ranch hands one day. His name was Russ, Quincy always remembered. Russ had been a Texas man who had come from a poor family to begin with. The few times Quincy and him had talked, when Quincy said it must be hard having to struggle these days, Russ always shrugged and said this is the way life had always been for him. The stock market hadn't effected him much either, just in an entirely different way. And Quincy was in love. The man was so soft spoken, just this rock solid personality who worked hard and didn't complain about anything. He was dedicated and strong and Quincy thought he could watch him all day. Even when Quincy knew that he had to be careful, he couldn't help watching him. Sometimes, he liked to believe that Russ was watching him too. It made Quincy bold, it made him feel like he had more confidence for this than he would have originally. "Russ," he called out, "I think I might have need for a bit of a handyman inside. You interested?" |
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| Kenneth Russell Taylor | Jan 4 2018, 09:17 PM Post #2 |
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Russ had seen a lot of foolish things in his day, but he had never thought to see the day when someone would buy a ranch right out from under its owners. Well, he reckoned that part wasn't all that foolish. That was pretty commonplace nowadays. The banks would take your farm or someone would come and offer you a pittance for your land and if you wanted to live and eat you took it. It was awful, but not particularly a part of foolishness. What was foolish was a man who had wealth coming in, flashing money around and buying the place up for far more than what it was worth at the moment. Not just the house, not even just the house and the barns. Everything. The man had bought the land, the house, the barns, the animals, the fields, and he had bought the hired help along with it. Or, at least, he had offered for anyone who wanted to stay on and work for him a place to do so. Russ had stayed. Most of them had. Nowadays you would be a fool to do so.The ranch had been slowly failing, holding on by a thread, and they had all been looking unemployment in the face. Now they had jobs. Maybe they weren't high end jobs, maybe they might not ever pay as much as some men made, but in this day and age to have a steady job with pay that was at least decent if not overwhelmingly wonderful? That was a Godsend. That was a blessing and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially since the former head of the ranch hands had taken himself off, one of the few to go looking for work elsewhere. Russ had managed to slide into the spot and he was pretty comfortable, all things considered. More work, sure, but work had never stopped him or his family. The only thing that had ever stopped them had been just the simple fact that the world didn't like the poor. It didn't like the people that were struggling. He and his family were a tiny bit better off than his cousins, than his aunt and uncle, but that was only mostly because there were a couple less mouths to feed. Other than that, they had never done much better and it felt like they never would. There were no chances. His aunt and uncle, his own father, they were all factory workers. Dan had managed to make himself a mechanic, Connie a teacher. Not amazing jobs but better than nothing. His own siblings, one was in a factory, the other set up in a beauty shop. They were all even a bit respectable with their jobs. Then there was James. James was the disappointment, he guessed. One day he had this bright and shining future, then he was arrested and locked in prison. Last Russ had heard, he'd busted out of prison and was on the run. Curtis was a cop, if anyone could believe it, and Clara hadn't left school just yet. They all would maybe be getting on a little better, could be a little brighter, if not for James. The worst part was, from everything he had heard, James had been innocent but the cops didn't want to hear that. They just took one look at the state of his home, his clothes, and decided that he obviously had stolen it. There was nothing to do now, though. James had blown his chance at maybe having his innocence proven by running. They would never believe him now. To his cousins, the law was something to not be trusted. Russ had never thought two ways about it, honestly. He knew plenty of people didn't trust them. He knew plenty of people had been roughed up by them and falsely accused. He also knew that there were some lawmen that enjoyed that kind of thing. Then there were the ones like Curt, who were trying to just do a job, trying to keep people safe. It was nice to know they were out there, but it didn't help much. He had wondered more than once if the reason Curtis had taken on that job was to try and get inside enough to do something about James. It didn't take a genius growing up to see the way that Curtis had idolized his older brother, after all. Russ was just glad he didn't have to deal with too much of anything. He was almost untouched out here, it felt like. There was very little reason for the police to come out to the ranch. He kept everyone in line for the most part and, so far as he knew, the man that had bought the ranch was on the up and up; just a rich guy with a peculiar idea in his head was all. When you were rich, he supposed you were allowed all sorts of peculiar ideas. One of those peculiar ideas... well. Russ was hesitant to even think it, honestly. He was hesitant to let it take seed and root. He'd talked to the new owner several times. Mr. Evans, his name was, though he insisted that they call him Quincy. He'd caught eyes on him more than once. Russ thought he saw some interest there but... it wasn't something you asked. It wasn't something you brought up in casual conversation - even in private conversation. Russ liked women, he made no secret of it. He had dated a fair few of them over the years. Russ also liked men, however, and that was a bit more of a problem. That was a secret, something that was rushed whispers and stolen moments. It was one thing to do that with someone in a tent out on the land. It was another to waltz up to the man that essentially owned your life at the moment and suggest it. If the man was offended and outraged, the best thing that he could hope for would be to be fired. It could only escalate from there... anything from his own time spent in a jail cell to worse. He had thought about it long and hard, as was his wont. It wasn't something he thought he could risk, honestly; not just his job, but his well being, too. He was honestly surprised when he heard the man calling out to him. He wouldn't say they hadn't talked at all, because they had, but they hadn't talked much... and especially not about work. Quincy seemed more than content to leave the running of things up to those that knew the job, which generally suited Russ fine. He brought himself out of his musings and made his way to where the other man was standing, offering a small smile before he reached up to brush the brim of his hat with his fingers, just very slightly tipping it forward. "I reckon I can take a look at it for ya, sir, though I can't guarantee I can fix whatever the problem is." His expertise was more around cattle and horses, after all, but he was still handy with plenty of things. It was likely he could fix up something small for the man. |
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| Quincy Evans | Jan 4 2018, 09:17 PM Post #3 |
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Quincy was practically tingling with excitement. Or maybe that was nerves because he and Caleb had talked this through night after night when a handsome man had walked through their line of sight. They had talked about how unfair it was and Quincy would say how much he wanted to go after them. Caleb was always the smarter one, or at least the more down to earth. He always pointed out that they couldn't, there was an art to subtlety that they didn't quite get a chance to use. Their lives, unfortunately, was probably going to be finding a woman they at least worked well with and settling down. It had made Quincy sigh and sulk and from that moment he decided that if he couldn't have the type of person he wanted, then he was going to just go ahead and be a bachelor. People thought bachelors were all right, didn't they? No one ever questioned bachelors outside of 'he's so good looking, why doesn't he get married?'. They might knowingly look at each other, but they couldn't prove anything and wouldn't dare to try. But all of that didn't change that this felt like the first time he had ever done anything. He wasn't a stranger to fooling around; he had found some men willing, hiding away where their whispers of kisses were hidden. It never got to be more than that and Quincy had stupidly refused to do anything with a woman. Caleb had snorted at him once and said of all the reasons to be a virgin, that was the one he chose. Maybe in a different time Quincy would have gotten mad, would have picked a fight with Caleb, but...well, Caleb was the only person he really had on his side these days. But when Russ looked to him, when he came up to him, Quincy wondered if he had the nerves to do this. He had always been a strong headed man, everyone said. He had always been getting into the trouble that Caleb had refused to get himself in and for the most part, he never minded the risks that went with it. But this felt bigger than anything else. For the first time in his life, Quincy could hear a voice in his head that asked if this wasn't a bad idea. But then Russ smiled and oh lord, he tipped his hat at Quincy. He had almost done that before when Quincy had given out greetings to everyone. It had never been a full hat tip, but more of a head nod. And this made Quincy feel all the more special and drown out the thought that this was at all a bad idea. "You'd probably have a much better idea than I would at least. I imagine if you can't fix it, you can tell me the problem so that if I hire someone else to do it, they won't try to cheat me." And while Quincy could afford to be cheated and there was a part of him that could understand why people cheated those they worked for, he couldn't stand for it. Maybe to the people he talked to that sounded selfish; he had money and other people didn't. Would he really even miss a few extra dollars so someone could eat? No, but it was the principal of the thing. Oh, listen to him. Acting as if there was an actual problem, as if there was someone he could call up for this. Though...Caleb lived in the big city, bigger than the city Quincy was in now and bigger than the city they had lived in. They probably had people like that, you could call them and they would never ask questions. He stepped back, stepped inside the house and held open the door for Russ. "I imagine you all must talk about me a lot," he laughed slightly. "A man who buys a farm and doesn't know the first thing to do with it. A man who can't fix anything even with someone telling him what to do." It all seemed awful silly to Quincy some days, even when he had been the one to bring it all up. And he knew people would talk. Russ or anyone could be quick to say that no, no, no one ever talked about that, they didn't find him foolish or silly at all. Quincy wasn't so out of touch with everything that he could miss it though. He knew people talked. If he knew that he was out of place with this farm, then people that actually worked on the farm would think he was out of place. They would talk, but they would try to assure him that they never did. Quincy prided himself on not being a particularly terrible person to those that worked for him, not like some people, but he had never been overly friendly to the people that did. He didn't give them cause to hate him (he hoped), but neither did he seem like the type of person who welcomed free talking about how odd he was. "Would you believe that I just always really wanted a farm? Ever since I was little, my parents would talk about it and I thought it would be interesting. Much better than being a preacher's son." But maybe he had been saved. Look at all the farms now. Everyone had need for God, especially in this trying time, but the farms that filled their bellies? Snatched away. It took him a moment to realize that he was stalling, that he was trying to figure out for himself if he was going to go through with this properly or find something stupid to say 'it's broken' and give Russ more fuel to take back to the other works. But Quincy was no coward, he decided. He wasn't a coward in the slightest, thank you very much. "Just follow me," he offered, taking Russ to the stairs. His heart was thudding in his chest, trying to crawl out his throat. He could do this, he told himself, it would be okay. Even as they got to the bed room, as he let Russ in and close the door. Once there, he thought honestly he would have some great one liner, something somehow suave and vaguely menacing, but his nerves had jangled his brains enough that he couldn't think of anything. He made his way over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it so he could stare intensely at Russ. "Do you think you might be able to fix me, Russ? I think I might need a good strong man for that job." He thought about warning him, he thought about saying a bit more and then saying that if Russ wanted to keep his job he would keep silent. Not that he had to be with Quincy, oh no, that wouldn't do at all. But if Russ got scared (would he? He had always seemed so calm and steady, Quincy couldn't imagine him ever afraid), he might think it was a good idea to go ahead and tell someone on him. Quincy desperately wanted to say they would believe him – a preacher's son and rich to boot – over Russ – a ranchhand, a man who could in theory just be jealous of Quincy's success and money. But he didn't. He didn't want this to be something based around lies and fear. |
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| Kenneth Russell Taylor | Jan 4 2018, 09:17 PM Post #4 |
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Russ just gave a small smile to t he other man as Quincy looked at Russ. He was struck again by just how attractive the other man was. He was sure that not everyone would feel the same way, but Russ did. For Russ, it wasn't just in his features, either. He would see the other man get excited about something - like he seemed to be now - and it just made his whole face, his features, open up more to the world. It had been amusing, sure, when he was so excited about this or that aspect of working the farm. Russ would have been amused no matter who it was, because it was amusing to see someone so excited about something so simple. It was... refreshing, almost. So many farmers and ranchers were just worn and beat down nowadays. It was nice to see someone excited. Granted, that was because Quincy had the ability to be excited about it but there was nothing wrong with that. More than all of that, though, Quincy just looked so much more... vibrant and handsome when he was like that. "Oh, reckon I can probably fix it. If not, there's lotsa guys on the payroll that know a fair bit of handy work. If I can't do it, I'd bet that they could." Selfishly, he wanted to be the one to fix it. He wanted to be the one to stand out in the eyes of the other man. He knew he couldn't just fake it, though. If something was out of his range of expertise he would have to recommend someone else to do it. But he hoped that he would be the one to be able to fix things for the other man. Dutifully, Russ followed after the other man as he lead the way up the steps to the porch, as he opened the front door to the rather impressive farm house. It had been redone somewhat, though it was mostly the same house that had held the original family. It seemed awfully big for just one man but then Russ could admit he didn't know that much about his employer. Not anything personal anyways. For all he knew, the man planned on marrying and having children. The house would be full up then. Or, maybe, he planned on lots of friends and relatives visiting. Right now, though, it just seemed like a too large place for one man to putter about in. Maybe Quincy was used to it, though. He had come from a rich family. Lots of rich people had too large homes, didn't they? "Sure, people talk," Russ said, easily enough. There was no use in denying it. It was just simple human nature, really. Nowadays, you wanted something like that to gossip about. It was much easier to talk about how this man had bought a farm without knowing what to do with it than to talk about how the bank had foreclosed on three more farms, how you wondered if you would be next, how you wondered if your family would get enough to eat. "Mostly, though, folks are too busy to care, y'know? You gave 'em a job and they got a livin' to earn." That wasn't to say there hadn't been disparaging remarks. There had been. Russ had usually shot them down, though, because that was the man paying them to do the same job they had before. He could have booted them all and he hadn't. "Mm, well, if you always wanted it and now you got it then it ain't silly, is it? You went for a dream you had and that's what matters. 'sides, if you're plannin' on livin' here for the rest of your life don't that give you plenty of time to learn about everythin'?" Maybe he might not want to get his hands dirty, but he could still learn. He gave a cursory nod as the man told him to follow. Silently, he did so. He took the stairs easily enough, resolutely telling himself to not stare at the back end of the man as they went up the stairs. They reached the landing and Quincy lead him along until they reached a room. The other man opened the door and Russ took a quick glance within before he followed. It was obviously not just any guest room. This was obviously the main bedroom and it made Russ' heart pick up a little in his chest. Not quite pounding, but he could feel nerves come into play, could feel his mouth go just a little bit dry even as he told himself to quit it. Just because they were here didn't mean anything other than that there might be something broken in the actual bedroom. Even when Quincy closed the door, even when the other man went and sat on the bed he tried to not let himself get worked up about it at all. It could mean anything. When the other man spoke the blood pounded in his ears for a moment. He didn't think he was going to faint, but he didn't know what to do or where to turn for a brief few seconds. His mind turned it all over, again and again. It was what he wanted - God it was what he wanted - but was it real? It could be a trap of some sort. It could be someone playing with him. If they did this, if he did this, what was stopping the other man from claiming it was all Russ' idea and that Russ had forced him? What was stopping the same eventuality of Russ ending up losing his job or in jail? At the same time, though, he wanted so very badly. It wasn't like him to throw caution to the wind or to make a move without thinking for a long time. For the first time in... forever he just acted rather than thought his way through everything. Maybe that would be a mistake, he didn't know. "You want me to fix you?" Russ asked, his voice more than a little deep, a little hoarse. He crossed the short distance from where he was standing to the edge of the bed. Without saying anything else, he reached down to grab the other man's arms and he used that as leverage to haul Quincy up from where he had been sitting. Without another moment's thought he crashed their lips together hard, rougher than he might normally have been, taking control of the kiss right away, pulling Quincy closer against his body and holding to him almost possessively. "Reckon I sure can try," he mumbled the words out after a moment, voice still hoarse with need. |
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| Quincy Evans | Jan 4 2018, 09:18 PM Post #5 |
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Quincy almost said he didn't want any other man fixing it. He didn't want any of them coming near him. Well, that wasn't fair. Most of the people on his payroll were decent enough; they may not have been loving Quincy, but they kept their voices down if they were disrespecting him. When it came down to it, that was all a person could ask for. He'd learned very young that people were going to talk about you no matter what, it was just a fact like the sun always rose in the morning. He had finally accepted that he was pretty okay with it. Or not okay but it was happening so whatever. It didn't change that he didn't want them, not like he wanted Russ. Then again, it wasn't like there was an actual problem that really needed fixing. "I've always been impressed with men who are good with their hands," he found himself saying. He almost cursed himself for that because that was a little too obvious to be safe. "My father always said that Evans men were hopeless with their hands, that's why they became men of God." Was that a good enough save? He had watched Caleb fumble once or twice, not terribly so, but usually right after he would say something about God, about church, and people quieted down. No God fearing church going man would do something like lay with man, right? That just wasn't possible. It seemed like a cheat to use it as he had; when Caleb did it, it always sounded so smooth and natural. It was feeling hotter in his house, though maybe that was because this was a southern town and the windows were closed. He had to be careful, he knew, but he hadn't expected it to be so hot. It was almost hard to breathe, he kind of felt light headed. He wondered if Russ would catch him if he fainted, as if he were some swooning woman. Caleb had spoken of people who thought they were like that, who said they didn't feel comfortable in their own skin and that maybe if they had been born different, things would be better. Quincy didn't think he was like that, but in those moments, he wouldn't have minded swooning like a woman just to have Russ catch him. Russ agreed with, saying people talked, like he knew he would. It had been a dual feeling; he knew people talked, but there had been a part of him that hoped that Russ would rush to tell him that no, no they didn't. They liked Quincy, thought he was a good man, what did they need to talk about him for? "I've always admired that," he admitted. "My family was very blessed, we were one of the few that was able to be protected in such a trying time," the words were spoken more with the feel of having heard it many, many times and being able to parrot it back. Truthfully, Quincy thought it was stupid, blind luck that they hadn't been touched and his father's own wicked ways padding them. "If we had lost that, I don't think I could survive." Not on what most people were paying these days. Quincy could admit that he had been a little confused over paying someone, anyone. He could have gone the cheap route and they would have taken it, but he had eventually settled on what he felt was decent sum for the effort they were doing. Was it good? Was it bad? He didn't know. He had just wanted to pay them enough for loyalty, but not so much that people would think it was easy. He smiled as Russ spoke, trying not to blush at his words. "I'm sure as far as dreams go, people think it's silly." Because people dreamed of riches and fame and power, not living on a farm. "Do you think anyone would really be willing to teach me, though?" As far as he saw, the economy as it was made people grouchy; they worked their fingers to the bone for little money. How would they feel about some rich man that was poking his nose in and sniffing around? It would be like he was a kid all over again, always trying to chase after Caleb, always trying to do what Caleb was doing and he was telling Quincy to stop, leave him alone, he wasn't old enough yet. Quincy's mouth was dry and he worried for a minute he wouldn't be able to talk, he wouldn't be able to say anything. Not that it felt like a problem right in the first moments. He could stare at Russ forever, stare at the work worn clothes and the hint of muscles beneath his clothing. And Quincy wanted. He wanted to see those muscles outside of the clothing, he wanted to feel them. Russ threw the question back at him, voice deep and hoarse and sending shivers down Quincy's spine. He came closer, close enough to grab Quincy's arms and pull him up. Quincy had the briefest moment to wonder if maybe he had made the wrong choice, if he had made a fool of himself and this was going to be the comeuppance. It was in the middle of a worried thought that Russ crushed their lips together. For one long moment, Quincy could only stand there stunned, as if this wasn't exactly what he wanted, and then he leaned into it, pressing his body to Russ' and responding to the kiss as best he could because it was Russ who had control of it. They didn't break far apart so Russ could speak and Quincy was grateful for that, he could feel the words more than hear them. "You better be, Russ. I don't know if any other man can fix this." Would that rile Russ up? Would that push him into that possessiveness that Quincy would have felt? Quincy could admit he was a fairly possessive man; his partner was his and no one would get in the way of that. Or would Russ just shrug and have a fun romp with him? Either way, he supposed he didn't overly care. He pulled away then, breaking out of Russ' hold just enough that he could work at getting the other man's shirt off, tugging and pulling until he could toss it to the side of the room. And then Quincy got to see those muscles. Working on a farm had blessed Russ with the nicest body that Quincy had ever seen, he realized. He let his hands run over his chest, smoothing over the skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to Russ' shoulder, his neck. This was more than he thought would ever happen. This was closer than he ever thought he would get. |
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| Kenneth Russell Taylor | Jan 4 2018, 09:20 PM Post #6 |
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Russ was silent for a moment as he followed after the other man, as he made a statement was either the most obvious or the most oblivious. The problem was that there was little way to be able to tell which was which. He had heard Quincy talking before and he was a man who had a tone at times that was often sarcastic. He might say one thing, but he could most definitely mean another. "Well, it's not hard to learn things like that," Russ finally offered. It was something that was mostly an innocent statement. There was hardly any way to take offense to what he had said, hardly any way to read into it. It was the truth, too. Oh, there were skills that were harder to learn and he knew it. Simple, basic things, though? It wasn't too hard to learn how to lift up a sack of grain, to lift a bale of hay. It wasn't hard to learn how to fix saddle leather or to repair a broken door. He raised his eyebrows just a tiny bit, let a small smile filter across his lips at the other man. "Is that what you are then? A man of God?" Russ couldn't help the all too inappropriate tease that came past his lips. That was definitely something the other man could end up taking offense to and rightly so. He didn't know the man, if he worshiped or not. Russ did. Russ' whole family did. That didn't mean this man did, despite what he had just said. He had certainly never seen Quincy at any of the services at the church in town but, then again, he was above their class technically. He could just be worshiping privately while the rest of them were at church for all he knew. The feeling of anticipation was heavy in the air and he wondered if he wasn't just imagining it, if he wasn't just hoping for it. After all, it was a bit jumped up to assume that this very rich man who now owned the ranch and very much owned most of their lives would suddenly decide that he wanted to invite Russ into his home on a pretext of his fixing something when he wanted something else. He was pretty sure some of his younger cousins had read some sort of terrible dime store novels about that before that he and Dan had laughed over a few times. Despite the fact that he knew it wasn't all that likely, though, he could feel his heart picking up just a tiny bit, could feel the beginnings of sweat that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the house and the heat of the day. "You were blessed," Russ said, simply enough. "There's a whole lotta folks who lost everything, rich and poor alike." He had read plenty of stories about people who had everything one second and the next it was gone. He had always been able to turn his hand to just about any job, but that didn't mean the jobs were available. He saw more and more 'closed' signs on stores nowadays and more and more people living in camps out of their cars. Sure, the economy was slightly better than it had been but, honestly, not by much. There was no sign of it ending, either. "Oh, you'd be survive at what needin' to survive will do to ya. Adversity is the best teacher'n all that." People who had never hunted or fished before had learned to do it quick, people who would never have accepted a dime a day job had learned to take what they could get. Needing to stay alive changed someone. "Sure," he agreed. "People think a lotta things are silly, though. One's man trash is 'nother man's treasure and all that. If it's what you want, though, you just gotta go and grasp it." He shrugged his shoulders once. "I'll teach ya, when I got the time. You better know about it somehow, right? What if all of us quit or got sick? What if ya gotta hire someone else? Ya gotta know who and what to look for if that happens." Not that he wanted another man in his place. He knew that the likelihood of his being hurt or ill was high, though. It was a rough job and things happened. Russ wouldn't say that words had never been his strong suit. He knew what to say most of the time. He just generally didn't speak until he knew what he was going to say. Right now, though, he didn't know what to say. He hardly even knew what to do... except he did. He had wanted to do this for a long time. His body, his heart, knew just what it wanted to do even if his mind was telling him this was too fast, too sudden, that he hadn't thought about this enough in the right capacity to be making these sorts of decisions. With Quincy's lips on his - eagerly returning the kiss that he had dared to give - it was easy to ignore that voice. There were many pitfalls that could still happen, he knew, but it was hard to think of them when a man was so eagerly kissing him back. He breathed hoarsely, heavily, against Quincy's own lips for a moment, letting his hands just run over the other man's arms, against his back. When Quincy spoke, he slid a hand up to the back of the other man's head. He didn't fist his hand in the other man's short hair but he did let his fingers press their roughly. "There had better not be another man comin' in here to fix this," he growled the words out, using that hold that he had on the other man to draw him into another kiss. He wasn't an overly possessive man, but the thought of Quincy just discarding him after one tryst and then bringing someone else in... well, it got his blood boiling. More than that, it hurt a little. Quincy was the one to break the kiss this time. Russ wasn't sure if he was pleased or not. A second later, he decided it was pleased. The other man's hands moved to his work shirt. They unbuttoned it, pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, and then Quincy's hands were on his skin, roaming over his arms and his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Then Quincy leaned forward, kissing against Russ' shoulder and his neck. That was more than enough for Russ. It was almost too much for one man to bear. He moved his arms to wrap tightly around Quincy again, using them to move the other man back to the bed. He didn't shove him back onto it, but he gave a light push that showed his intentions clearly. When Quincy fell back against the bed Russ followed, moving his body over the other man's to hover over him and he gave a low growl as he moved to gently pin Quincy's hands against the bed with both of his own. "Reckon it's my turn to be the one in charge now." |
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8:53 AM Jul 11