Snowed In(manxman)

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Turner glared at Beaux when the hound came to the door of the barn and sat down, studying Turner intently. Growling, Turner kicked some hay in the hounds direction and waved his hand, “Get out of here. Don‘t judge me.”

Beaux let out a snort and simply flopped down and rested his head on his paws. Turner turned away from the dog. He didn’t have the energy to be arguing with a critter.

His body was still tingling and sluggish from the pleasure that had been coursing through it mere moments ago. His mind however was a different story. He had one hell of a mess up there.

Turner had vowed to be different toward Will then what Will had known while in that brothel. He may not know the details, but Turner was smart enough to realize that Will had been forced. He wasn’t sure how Thompson had gotten Will to stay in that brothel and lay with those men but Turner was sure it hadn’t been by giving him a choice.

And Turner had taken the time to give Will pleasure which he was sure Will hadn’t had in a while. Hell pleasuring that man, having his warm cock in his mouth and hearing him whimper and moan with delight had been….. amazing. He’d also taken the time to use oil and ensure that he wouldn’t cause Will pain when he slid himself inside that tight warm ass…

Turner growled and threw Bernice’s oats into her trough with a vengeance. There he went thinking about his ass again! Will was a temptation like Turner had never known and he had been completely powerless to stop himself from taking him this morning. But even so he’d made sure to give Will pleasure in return for the pleasure he was taking.

But it hadn’t been enough. He’d seen that look in Will’s eyes. The man had wanted more.

But that was too bad. Turner wouldn’t--couldn’t--give him more. He would take his pleasure from Will’s body and give Will pleasure in return but that was as far as it would go. There would be no friendship, no tenderness, no curling up together and talking and laughing for long hours. Turner didn’t have that much of himself to give to anyone--not anymore.

　

***

Will didn’t see Turner any more that day until after dark. He had supper cooked and waiting when Turner came through the door.

“You’ve been gone all day. You must be starving,” Will stated as he sat Turner’s plate on the table.

Turner didn’t meet his gaze as he stomped the snow from his boots and pulled off his coat, “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” he agreed, shaking the snow from his hair.

Will sighed. It seemed that not even a good morning rut cured the man of his grouchitis. He watched Turner move around the cabin as he put away his things and washed his hands in the basin beside the bed. Will found himself noticing things he hadn’t noticed before.

He noticed how fluid and smooth Turner’s motions were. How much of a predator he seemed as he moved about his habitat and he wondered what Turner’s story was. His long legs ate up the ground quickly, his body, so large and intimidating was somehow graceful in its movement.

Will shook his head to clear his thoughts when he realized he was now admiring Turner instead of simply watching him. He sat down at the table and picked up his fork, “I wasn’t sure what to make so I just cooked up some beans and corn bread.”

“That works,” Turner grunted as he came to sit at the other side of the table and dug in quickly. Will rolled his eyes and began to eat at well.

“Christmas is coming soon,” Will noted after several long awkward moments of quiet.

“Yep,” Turner replied, without looking up.