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Dogwood Winter

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The only time Ennis let Jack inside him, the Wyoming borderlands where they were hunkered down one of their last weekends in 1981 got a powerful cold snap. Like nothing they'd experienced -- not since Brokeback.

It kept warm enough through the night, and they messed around like usual. Jack spread himself wide with hands and a smile, and Ennis thrust into him like a racehorse, panting with the exertion. They made a sweaty pile under the blankets after. No care for the dampness. So when the morning wind cracked through the sparse trees and came at them through the tent walls, they nearly bruised each other, shivering and chattering away so close.

Jack held Ennis. Nothing new about it, but his warmth had a way with Ennis, to make him feel something like peace under his skin. They were rubbing together for the friction first, then for more again. Jack opened his mouth against Ennis' for a rough kiss. Ennis sucked Jack's tongue how he knew Jack liked.

Wasn't long, though, before Jack dragged his mouth free for use elsewhere. Jack licked Ennis' neck and bit the inside of his shoulder. Pressed his tongue flat to Ennis' nipple and into the dip of his navel for a few seconds before going further, pushing Ennis' legs apart.

Ennis lifted his head, because he'd started to appreciate the sight of himself in Jack's mouth. But Jack barely mouthed the head of his hard dick. Jack went further still. Jack's tongue swiped over the cleft of Ennis' ass.

Ennis jerked. "Wait."

"Settle down," Jack said after another lick.

"Wait. Shouldn't do that -- be down there." Ennis tried drawing his thighs together over Jack's head.

"Just settle. You'll like it." Palms between them, Jack pried Ennis' thighs apart. He bent, twisted his tongue up and around the hole.

Ennis kept shifting, couldn't decide how it felt. Then Jack pushed his tongue in, and Ennis writhed. Damn near broke Jack's nose swinging his knee around. Jack kept up anyway, up and in and out and in. His breath came in hot bursts on Ennis' skin, and every lick a flame.

The fire was eating Ennis alive. He dropped his head back, fighting the heat. When he sucked air into his nose and mouth, it cut like some fancy crystal knife straight through his lungs, but the damn fire was still eating him alive. Jack was eating Ennis alive.

And then he wasn't. He was on his knees over Ennis and holding his thick dick at the base. His eyes were so bright, and his fist clenched so tight on himself.

Looking at him there, Ennis was frozen and burning, crackling apart every which way, until he just nodded.

Jack fell gratefully. Took him with a gentleness Ennis wished he'd managed, himself, but even the first inch still made him gasp.

He felt like a horse all over, startled and breathless. Jack cupped his cheeks. Didn't try to kiss him, only tucked his head against Ennis' shoulder. Jack thrust, slowly, up and in and out and in again.

Ennis found his body moving without his intent. His hips rolled to meet Jack's, his hands settling at Jack's waist. Flames swept through him, stoked him, spilled out of him on Jack's lead. Ennis shuddered in his arms -- not bothered by cold or heat. Just warm again, with that something like peace.

They cleaned up after themselves that time. But all Ennis wanted was to lie back down there, Jack holding him, the ice outside at bay.


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