The Shearing Gun (18 page)

“To see what’s there.”

I blinked. “Shit? Isn’t that what you usually find?”

He laughed at me. “They usually—Oh, never mind. You stick to your crutching, and I’ll stick to doctoring the humans, I think.”

Hmm.

“Anyway, talking of doctors, we have ourselves a little problem,” Elliot continued.

“Yeah?”

He sighed and leaned back against my work bench. “There’s a problem with me treating you now that we’re involved.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Ethical morals and stuff. I’m not allowed to treat close friends and family, and I think that after Wednesday night you are now firmly in the
close
friends
category.”

My heart began soaring. He wasn’t dumping me already. “Yeah? Was there something in particular that put me in the
close friends
category?”

“Oh, yes. Just a little something,” he razzed me with a twinkle in his eye.

I glared at him in mock anger. “Little? Are you calling me little? I may have to remind you again of my size, Quackle.”

He grinned and repeated my words from that night. “I think that can be arranged.”

We stood laughing silently at each other until I remembered why he was visiting—apart from the booty call, that is. “You want to see your surprise, then?”

“Hell, yeah! I’ve been wildly curious for days now. Lead on!”

I put my shearing gear down, and we walked back toward the house, then took a stroll down the driveway. Elliot talked as we walked.

“I meant what I said earlier, Hank. I am ethically no longer able to treat you as a patient. Of course in an emergency I can help, or if you just want some advice on the side, but on paper you cannot be seen as my patient anymore. So you need to see George Larsen if you need a doctor, or go to another town.”

I picked up a battered tennis ball that had been left on the ground and hurled it in front of us. Buck took off at top speed, chasing his beloved toy. “What reason can I give him that I’m going to see him instead of you? Won’t he be suspicious? What about the nurses and receptionist?”

He dug his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I do surgery in Kukerin on Mondays and Nyabing on Fridays. If you make an appointment in Dumbleyung on one of those days, you’ll only have George to see you.”

“Okay.”

We were nearly there when he asked. “So are you going to?”

“Going to what?”

“See George Larsen? You should really get checked for STDs and HIV at least twice a year, more regularly if you’re having multiple partners, and definitely immediately after you have unsafe sex.”

I grimaced. “Thanks for the advice, Doctor Montgomery.”

He stopped, gripped my arm, and turned me toward him with a serious look on his face. “This isn’t a joke, Hank. You’re at high risk of contracting HIV, and there are so many STDs out there it’s unbelievable. If you have one of them, you need to be treated so you’re not passing it on to the next person. You are putting
me
at risk by not knowing.”

When he put it like that, it was spine chilling. I cupped his jaw, even though we were in full view of the road if someone happened down it. “I’ll make an appointment on Monday, ’kay? Now cheer up and turn around to see your surprise.”

We were stopped in front of the paddock that held my melanian sheep. Elliot turned and cast his eye over them. “Huh? This is my surprise? Did you forget that you’ve already shown me these?”

“Just wait; you’ll see in a minute. Over… yep. Look to your left.”

He waited as Devil and Chappell took a couple of steps forward, their heads down in the grass, and then he suddenly drew in a deep breath. There, on the edge of the paddock, was a little lamb on wobbly legs, her head under her mother as she suckled with her little tail wiggling madly as she drank. The lamb was black all over, but with a white bum, as if she had sat in a paint can.

“It’s a lamb!” Elliot exclaimed, and I clapped him on the shoulder.

“You powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Quackle. Of course it’s a lamb. Did you think my sheep had puppies or something?”

He elbowed me in the ribs, and I grunted. “I meant why do you have a lamb and why are you showing it to me?”

“Coz I’m giving you naming rights,” I told him proudly.

“What?” He was adorably flabbergasted.

“That sheep over there is Nan—remember I told you about her? She’s up for consideration for the cooking pot in a couple of weeks’ time, so she goes and does this to me. Obviously she’s one wanton lady, because she wasn’t supposed to be knocked up. I have no idea which of the rams is the father. I’ve asked them, and they’re both denying paternity.” That got me a roll of the eyes. “So I’ve decided to allow you to name her. I don’t know if Donnie or Phantom is the sire, so you only have the mother’s name of Nan to work with. It’s up to you what you call her.”

“Her?”

I nodded, and he looked at the little thing. She’d finished her drink and was investigating a patch of grass with her nose. One of the older sheep moved, and she startled and ran back to her mother and safety. I watched Elliot’s face and saw the wonder and delight on it. Growing up on a farm, you often lose the magic of new life and only see things in terms of dollars and effort. I was glad I was giving Elliot this gift.

I saw him nod. Then he turned to me and proclaimed, “Poppy.”

“Poppy?”

“Yes. I call my grandparents on my father’s side, Nan and Pop. So she can be Poppy since her mother is Nan.”

“Done. Nan and Poppy it is. Come on up to the house, and I’ll make you a coffee while I enter her details in the breeding chart.”

The kettle was getting ready to boil, and the mugs were out when I jumped him. I thought that was rather restrained of me. After all, he’d been at my house for a good thirty minutes, and all I’d received was a wet kiss and a bit of a pelvic thrust—not nearly enough to satisfy three days of hunger. When it was a three-hour drive to find sexual relief, my libido was rather laid-back, but when it was a mere thirty-minute drive, twenty if I sped, then my sexual hunger seemed to be all out of whack.

I’d contemplated calling Elliot at midnight for some fun, knowing he would be responsive to some middle-of-the-night nooky. In the end, the knowledge that he was responsible for saving lives and that he needed his sleep had kept me from reaching for the phone. I’d had to reach for something else instead—like the lube in my drawer.

Elliot was looking for the biscuit tin in the cupboard, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I grabbed him, and pulled him down on my lap, ignoring his startled exclamation.

“I want to find out if your nipples are as sensitive today as they were on Wednesday,” I whispered in his ear, and he froze. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since then.”

He nearly melted in my arms, so I thrust my hands under his shirt and jumper, found his two little swollen nubs, pinched them quickly, then rubbed them with my palms.

“Oh, shit. Fuck, Hank. Oh, crap. Oh, jeez.” He leaned into me and squirmed on my lap, causing friction where I needed it the most. He didn’t once try to stop my attentions to his chest.

I laughed. “You’re totally responsive here. I can’t believe it. Do you think you could come from me just pinching and licking and sucking here?”

He groaned loudly and we both ignored the recently boiled kettle. I sucked at his neck, careful not to cause a hickey, and rolled his little nubs between my fingers. I was at full arousal and I couldn’t wait to be inside him again.

“Do you want to christen my kitchen table, Quackle? I think I’d like to see you spread out on my table, so every time I eat there, I can think of you.” He was still groaning and writhing in my lap, sending sensations up my dick, but he managed to nod. I stood up and steadied him on his feet. I had a fantasy to fulfill and I hoped he’d cooperate. “I need to get a couple of things out of the bedroom, but I’m going to be super quick. Take your shoes off, Ell, but nothing else. I’ll be back.”

I raced to my room and dug for my box of condoms. There were only two left in the packet, which meant I was going to have to find a store soon. Very soon. Two condoms wouldn’t last me even a night the way I felt about fucking Elliot. I had a tube of lube handy—what single guy didn’t? But as my last item, I grabbed a pillow off my bed. The table was hard, and I didn’t want Elliot to suffer.

He’d kicked off his shoes and was waiting next to the table with a bit of trepidation. I noticed he’d drawn the curtains of the nearby window, which was probably a good thing, so I set about moving a couple of chairs back to give me room. I placed the pillow, lube, and condom on the edge of the table and turned to Elliot with a look of intent.

“Come here.”

My voice had gone deep and husky with arousal, and my dick was rock hard. He moved in close, but not close enough. I grabbed his arse to pull him nearer, so we were chest-to-chest. My head dropped, and he came up on tiptoe to allow our mouths to meet. He was sweeter than Jimmie’s favorite honey-crackle recipe. I shuffled forward until his arse met the table edge, forcing him to sit.

“Hank.” His voice had a crack in it, but there were no actual objections to my ministrations, only exclamations—hopefully of arousal and not shock.

I attacked the opening of his trousers, nearly ripping the material in my haste, then shoved the denim roughly down his thighs, along with his briefs, without breaking the seal of our kiss. I pushed them down as far as I could reach, until they dropped. I felt Elliot kick them aside and looked down. His cock was reddish and swollen and pointing straight out. So I grabbed it, and gave it a couple of jerks.

“Look-ee what I found, Quackle. I think you’re happy to see me, going by this delightful welcome.”

He chuckled against my jaw. “Oh, yes. I think I’m definitely happy to see you. My only question is, are you just as happy to see me?”

He reached between us and found my hard flesh pushing at the zipper. I pushed his hand away and bore him back against the scarred surface of my kitchen table. “Uh-uh-uh, Ell. I have a vision to complete before my dick can come out to play.” He encircled my waist with his legs as I pushed him back and placed the pillow under his head. He seemed to realize what I wanted and acquiesced, lying on the table, naked from the waist down, ready for whatever I wanted.

I pushed his feet until they were flat on the table. His knees were bent, and his legs wide open for me to appreciate. I could see from the hardness of his cock that he was still enjoying this little scenario I had in mind.

“God, Ell. You are beautiful.”

It sounded inane, but it was said now, and I didn’t want the words recalled. I pulled up my chair and sat at the head of the table between Elliot’s spread legs, a veritable feast set before me. I drank in the sight, committing it to memory.

“Oh, shit Hank. Are you planning on doing anything but looking, because I swear I am hanging here!”

I reined in my own climax and went exploring—softly touching the inside of his thighs, nudging his sack gently, whispering my fingers the length of his shaft. Once I had touched everything, I moved in for the tasting—swiping my thick tongue over his flesh.

“Ohfuckohfuckohthankthefuckohjeez.”

I licked every single inch of his penis, the crease of his thighs, all around his testes, and then I pushed his legs up to his chest and discovered more delicious items below. I coated his perineum with saliva as I discovered and explored all his sensitive spots. I sucked, I licked—and most importantly—I enjoyed.

Then I went lower. I’d tried it a couple of times before, and the one time a guy had done it to me, I had gone ballistic. I kissed his pucker, then took a long lick.

“Oh, oh, oh, shhh….”

Elliot ran out of words to yell.

I used my tongue to push into where I hoped my dick would be in about two minutes.

“Hank!”

I looked up in time to see Elliot’s hand holding his dick as his come fountained up and splattered over his chest. The sight was too exciting for me to go back to what I was doing. I reluctantly shelved the project and promised I would return to it another day. Right now I needed to be inside Ell.

I ripped my zipper down, and Elliot was already there with the condom packet open. I swear that a condom was never put on so fast before, a handful of slick had never been applied in such haste, and two men had never been so grateful for the meeting of flesh. I pushed in slowly but with strength, forcing Elliot’s body to accept me. He panted hard and I watched as his penis renewed its potency despite just coming. He groaned. “Yes, keep going Hank.”

Once seated as far as I could go, I stopped to make sure Elliot was okay. I needed him to be okay with everything we did. I needed him to welcome me back again another time. I just needed him.

I bent down and whispered a kiss across his wet lips. He grabbed hold of my shoulders and somehow undulated beneath me.

“Come on, Hank. Let us finish this.”

I leaned back and surveyed the scene I had created. Fuck, I was a lucky bastard.

At the first slam of my hips, he cried out. At the second, he almost screamed. After that, he was lucky to be able to breathe. For me—my world had shrunk to a small bubble around us. There was Elliot and me, some air to breathe, and that was about it. We needed nothing more.

I pounded Elliot into the solid wood surface as he wrapped both legs around my waist. With one hand, he gripped the edge of the table, with the other, he fingered his nipples, rocketing his excitement even higher.

I could feel my balls tighten, signaling that the end was near. “Ell?” I questioned urgently.

“Yes,” he replied, whether he understood my question or not.

Bright sparks flashed behind my eyes as what seemed to be a bolt of lightning traversed my spine, centering in my groin with cataclysmic consequences. My climax was upon me, and for long moments, I wallowed in the pleasure of coming inside Elliot’s body. Then I felt his second peak hit. It bowed his body upward and made his tunnel tighten around me, gripping me in his pleasure and prolonging my own climax.

At last we were done, and I was shaking from the force of my ejaculation. I felt like I’d just played two games of footy back-to-back, or wrestled with rams for eight hours straight. My legs could barely hold me, so I disengaged from Elliot before I fell and sat with a thump on the nearby chair. The wood was cold on my bare arse, but I hardly cared.