BROKEN

By Wes Leigh

 

This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.

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Chapter Fourteen

 

I think my family has noticed something is up between Monty and me.

I suppose it's my fault. When we join the family at the beginning of the day, I bring Monty his coffee and set it on the table in front of him. Then I give him the biggest hug I can from behind. I don't kiss him on the cheek. I know that would be impossible, but I do think about it. I see Poppa watching me, and he smiles just a little bit, but he never says a word.

Monty sips his coffee, looking at me sideways, grinning. I think he likes my hugs. And when we finish our coffee and head outside to start our morning chores, Monty grabs me and lifts me squealing into the air, then tosses me over his shoulder. I laugh as he carries me across the yard, tickling the back of my knees before pretending to drop me to the ground.

I land on my feet and try to punch him in the stomach, but he's too fast for me. He dodges back and laughs at my puny attempt at revenge.

Poppa turns to watch us and says, "Time for work, boys. Momma will tan your rear if you're late for breakfast, and I don't think she'll be as slow as Truman when she's chasing you with a belt, Monty."

Monty smirks at Poppa, then points at me and motions for me to start walking toward the barn and stables. I whisper, "I'll get you later," then turn and run after Poppa. When I catch him, I slide my arm around his waist and give him a nice hug. Poppa hugs me back as we head for the barn.

While Poppa and Monty are spreading alfalfa for the cows, Carson and I work together, mucking out the stables. Carson keeps grinning at me, until finally I can't take it anymore. "Why are you staring at me and smiling?" I ask.

Carson chuckles. "I guess I'm just happy for my little bro. Is there a law against that?"

"I guess not, but why are you happy for me?"

Carson leans his shovel against the wall and walks up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently. "Because you seem to be doing a lot better lately. You look happy and confident."

I know why I'm happy, but I have to think fast. I don't want Carson knowing how Monty has made me the happiest boy on the planet, so I say, "Why wouldn't I be happy? You're teaching me to work out, and I'll have muscles as big as yours soon. I'm helping Monty train the horses. I get to stay home from school every day. Of course, I'm happy!"

Carson nods and chuckles. I can tell he's not buying my explanation, but I can also see questions in his eyes that he apparently decides not to ask. Instead, he squeezes my shoulder again and says, "Good for you, little bro. Good for you." He lifts the handles on the wheelbarrow and pushes it out of the stall, leaving me to spread new straw on the ground.

Weird conversation. Almost awkward. I'm glad Carson is happy for me, but I wish I knew if he knew why I'm really so happy. On second thought, I don't want to know if he knows.

͠ ͠ ͠

After Momma's incredible oatmeal, sausage, and hot biscuit breakfast, I run up to my bedroom to grab my homework from yesterday. Carson and Mattie are already walking down the lane, so I run outside and yell for them to wait. I run up to Carson and hand him my homework.

He slides everything into his backpack. "I'll give this to your teachers first thing, Truman."

I wrap my arms around him and give him a huge hug. "You're the best big brother a guy could ever have, Carson."

He holds me against his chest and rubs my back gently. "You know, Truman, we haven't been all that close over the years, and maybe that's my fault. I've been busy with my friends and football and—"

"Nancy Jo Welsh," I add, giggling.

"Yep. She keeps me busy too. And all those things that keep me busy have kept me from spending as much time with you as I should have."

"It's okay, Carson. I don't mind."

"It's not okay, Truman. I can't change the past, but I want you to know that I'm glad I have a little brother as terrific as you, and I'm glad you're working out and letting me teach you how to build your muscles."

"I really appreciate that, Carson. Thanks."

"No problem, Truman." He hugs me again, then lets me go. "We better get moving. The bus will be here soon." He holds his fist out to me and we bump. Then he picks up his backpack and lunch and starts walking down the lane.

Mattie gives me a disgusted glare, which I try to ignore, but decide to answer by sticking my middle finger up and pretending to rub the side of my nose. Take that, you Dark Nebula hag! Her eyes tighten, furious but unable to say a word to me, then she turns and stomps after Carson.

Momma comes out of the house carrying a stack of blankets. "Will you help me for a bit, Truman."

"Sure," I shout, running to take some of the blankets from Momma. "What are these for?"

"For the bunkhouse beds. To make them a little more comfortable for you boys."

"Oh, yeah! Thanks for remembering, Momma."

She smiles and leads the way to the bunkhouse, waiting at the door for me to open it. Good manners! She knows the bunkhouse is for me and Monty, so she won't go in without an invitation first.

I help her strip the blankets and sheets off Monty's bed.

"How do you like being Monty's ... roommate?" Momma asks. For a moment there, I thought she was going to ask a different question, only to change her mind at the last minute. What was she going to say before she changed her mind?

I help her spread an extra-soft blanket over the mattress. "I like it just fine, Momma. Monty's great, and he's teaching me a lot of new things."

She nods, and I think she's trying not to laugh. I don't know what is so funny about what I just said.

Momma bends down and pushes on the mattress. She frowns, and says, "Maybe one more." She hands me one side of another blanket and we shake it open, then spread it out over the first blanket. Momma tucks it in on her side. I follow her example on my side.

"That should do it," she says, then she has me help her put the sheets back on the bed, then the top blanket. She points at the bed and says, "Try it out. See what you think, Truman."

I leap onto the bed, laughing. It's much more comfortable. "One hundred and fifty percent better, Momma."

She's smiling down at me. "Well, I suppose that will have to do. I was hoping for two hundred percent."

I suddenly remember that this is Monty's bed I'm lying on. "I'm sure Monty will love it, Momma." I jump off the bed and walk across the bunkhouse to my other bed. I look back at Momma as I'm stripping off the blankets and sheets. She seems confused at first, watching me work, then grins and comes over to help me.

"Do you want two extra blankets on your bed, like Monty's?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

"Please and thank you, Momma," I say, grinning.

͠ ͠ ͠

The horses aren't happy with the bridles. They don't like the feeling of a bit in their mouths, and I can't blame them. Monty decides to try hackamore bridles instead. Hackamores don't have bits and feel almost like a halter, so the horses tolerate them a lot better. While I'm holding them by the head, talking to them, Monty begins sliding saddle blankets onto their backs. They're a little nervous about that, but he takes it slow and easy, sliding the blankets on and off again, getting them accustomed to the feeling of the heavy covering resting on their backs.

Next, he brings out the lightest saddle we have. He adjusts the stirrups so they're up tight and not flopping around. Then he talks to Cinnamon, soft and gentle, as he lifts the saddle and slides it onto her back on top of the blanket. She turns around to look at what he's doing, but she doesn't seem to mind all the gear resting on her back. Monty takes everything off and brushes her down, telling her what a good girl she is. Then he puts it all back on again. Repetition. That's what will teach the horses to trust us.

We work with the horses all morning long, teaching them to stand calmly with the blankets and saddle in place.

"That's good for now," Monty says, patting Chance on the shoulder. He's the last one and seemed to take to the saddle far quicker than the others.

I'm a little surprised at how smoothly the training has gone today. "It sure seems to be going a lot faster now," I observe.

Monty nods. "That's because we spent time teaching them to trust us first. That's going to pay off with the rest of their training. They know we're not going to let them get away with misbehaving, but they also know we won't allow them to get hurt. We're working together now, as a team, and they're willing to do anything we ask."

"You really know what you're doing, Mr. Horse Wrangler," I say, grinning.

He smiles back at me. "And you're doing pretty darned good as my helper, Mr. Awfully Cute Cowboy."

I blush when I hear that. He thinks I'm cute! Well, he's handsome, so we belong together.

We turn out the horses and gather up the gear, carrying everything to the tack room in the corner of the barn.

There in the dim stillness of the tack room, Monty eases up behind me and wraps me in his arms, leaning down with his head next to mine. I lean back against his warm chest and turn my face to rub my cheek against his. I want to melt. "This feels so nice, Monty. I love being hugged by you."

"I think you love giving hugs just as much as getting them."

"I do," I admit, shivering when I feel the stubble on his chin sliding across my cheek.

Monty whispers in my ear, "That hug you gave me this morning ... what was that all about?"

"You mean when we were at the kitchen table?"

"Yep. After you gave me my coffee. What made you decide to hug me like that in front of your entire family?"

I think back to that moment in the kitchen and I say, "I don't know, Monty. Sometimes I can't help myself. I saw you sitting there and I just wanted to touch you, to feel you touching me."

Monty rocks me gently from side to side as he hugs me. "You might want to be more careful. Your sister was watching, and she gave us both a really nasty glare."

I giggle. "Are you sure that wasn't her regular face?"

Monty laughs and kisses my cheek, turning me around to face him. "Mattie is very jealous of us, and she could cause trouble."

I shake my head in denial. "It won't matter. Everyone else is happy for us."

"Everyone else?" Monty looks concerned, and I realize I may have said more than I should have.

I wasn't going to tell him about Poppa and Carson and Momma, but I guess I'll have to now. "Mattie isn't the only one watching us, Monty. Poppa is too, but he smiles whenever he sees us together. I think he's happy for us. I know Momma is. She didn't say anything when we were adding blankets to our beds in the bunkhouse, but I think she knows where I sleep and she's okay with it. Carson is too. He really likes you, and I think he's glad you're here, teaching me about horses and all the other stuff."

Monty seems nervous. "Does he know about the other stuff?"

I shake my head. "No. I don't think so, but he wouldn't care, Monty. Carson is the best big brother ever, and I think he'd be okay with what we're doing."

Frowning now, Monty says, "I still think it's a good idea to be more careful."

"I know, Monty. I can't tell you how many boring assemblies I've had to attend at school where they lecture us about how our bodies belong to us and no one else should touch our `private parts'. Who are they trying to fool? Most of the kids in school are grabbing each other by the private parts every day behind the gym or next to the cafeteria or in their cars in the parking lot. Mattie is jacking off every boy in the county, and no one says a word to her."

"Our situation isn't quite the same, Truman."

"I know, Monty. If two boys touch each other, it's a national disaster. Totally unfair and stupid."

"I agree, Truman, but it doesn't change the fact that we can get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out. Me especially. I'm an adult."

"That's something else that's stupid, Monty. What difference does it make if you're an adult and I'm not? In five years, I'll be eighteen. Who decided that my eighteenth birthday makes me an adult? The day before my birthday, I'm a clueless boy who can't be trusted to make decisions? The day after my birthday, I'm suddenly smart and wise? I'm suddenly making good decisions that I couldn't make on my own before? That makes no sense."

Monty is listening to me, nodding his head in agreement. Most people ignore me, `cause I'm just a kid, I suppose, so I get excited realizing that Monty is actually paying attention to what I have to say. I lift Monty's hands and hold them with my own, in between us. "I know I'm only thirteen. I have a lot of growing up to do. I want to have muscles as big as Carson's. I want a bigger cock, as big as yours. And I want people to stop treating me like a boy. The kids in school see how little my dick is and think I'm just a kid. Well, I showed them they're wrong. I stood up for myself and didn't let them push me around. I know I still have a lot to learn, Monty, but I'm not a boy. I deserve to be treated as a man."

Monty smiles and squeezes my hands. "I know, Truman. And I promise I will respect you as a man. But if we get caught, I'm responsible. I'm the adult."

I'm shaking my head now. "Please don't do that to me, Monty. It makes me sound like a little boy. Like I'm not smart enough or mature enough or responsible enough to decide what I do with my own body. How can anyone else know how mature I am? Only I know, and I'm asking you to treat me as a man, Monty. A man with a small cock, but that dick will grow. A man with a skinny body, but I'll get bigger. But when it comes to being able to love others, that's one thing I don't need to learn. Momma and Poppa have been teaching me how to do that all my life, and I'm ready to love you right now."

Monty is staring at me in surprise. He's obviously astonished by how intense I am, but also by what I'm saying. "When did you get so smart?" he asks.

"I've always been smart," I reply, "and I've lived on a farm all my life, so I know bullshit when I see it, and it's complete bullshit to say I can't love you because I'm not an adult."

Marty's having a hard time not laughing. He's not nervous any more. Now he's amused, grinning at me. He pulls me against his chest and hugs me. "Fine, Truman. I'll take your word for it that your family is okay with what we're doing, except for your sister. I'm glad everyone else is okay with it, but I gotta tell you, I still don't understand why they don't mind their 13-year-old son falling in love with a 23-year-old man."

"Correction, Monty. 13-year-old cowboy."

He nods and smiles, pulling me deeper into his arms.

Sunlight is pouring through the windows high up on the side of the barn. Dust motes, dancing in and out of the sunbeams, float in the air, sparkling when the sun strikes them, disappearing when they float away into the shadows. The sweet scent of alfalfa and oats lingers all around us. It is so very quiet here in the barn, hushed, heavy with anticipation. It's a magical moment, and Monty and I dance slowly in each other's arms, needing no music other than the beating of our hearts.

We're pressed together, at the chest, the stomach, the groin. I begin to swell up and feel Monty's cock responding too. I stare him in the eyes, silently challenging him to deny me, and slide my hands down onto his butt, squeezing the firm muscles in his ass. He slides his hands down to my hips and pulls us together, slowly grinding against me, making me even harder.

"One second," I say, reaching down into my pants and straightening out my cock. It was pointing to the side, and that was getting very uncomfortable as I boned up. Monty's cock is also stretching out at a funny angle in his pants, so I tug out the waistband of his pants until I can reach in, sliding my slender fingers down inside his underwear and tugging on his cock to point it straight up as well. "Better?" I ask.

His only reply is to pull me back against his body and begin slowly grinding against me. I don't know how it's possible, but I want my cock to get even harder, and at the same time, I want to melt into Monty's arms. Maybe my cock can stay rock hard while the rest of me turns into a puddle. I moan and slide my hands up to his face, pulling his lips down to mine. We kiss, twining our tongues together, groaning, multiplying the excitement we're both beginning to feel. My cock is tingling. My balls are twitching.

I begin to feel a little frustrated. It's not the same, having my cock trapped inside my pants. I can't feel the skin sliding around, but my underwear is rubbing against the sensitive skin under the tip of my cock, and it feels exciting in a different, almost scratchy way. To make the tingles stronger, I have to thrust harder against Monty. I begin panting, and I hear Monty doing the same. I get even more excited when I hear how hard he's breathing, how excited he's becoming. I thrust faster, harder. It's starting, and I can't hold back. My cock lurches and I feel globs of cum soaking my underwear. Monty freezes in my arms, and he groans deep and long. I know his pants are wet now too.

We pull away from each other and look down.

"That's never happened to me before," I say, rubbing the growing wet spot in the front of my jeans.

Monty grins. "Not my first time, and probably won't be the last. Did you like that?"

I nod. "Oh, yeah. But what do we do now. We can't go in the house like this."

He smiles, takes my hand, and leads me across the barn to the open double doors. He looks in both directions, and seeing no one outside, he drags me at a stumbling run across the driveway to the bunkhouse. We stagger inside, laughing, and strip off our pants and soaked underwear. Then we wash the stickiness out of our pubes, change into new underwear and pants, and clean up a bit.

Momma and Poppa don't notice a thing out of the ordinary at lunch, except maybe for some sly glances Monty and I exchange from time to time. If they do see anything unusual about our behavior, they don't say a word. I love them both so much.

 

The end of BROKEN, Chapter Fourteen