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Slim said, "You hadda, George. I swear you had-da. Come on with me." He led George into the entrance of the trail and up toward the highway.
…
The silence was deafening; the sound of boots against rugged mountain paths breaking in from time to time.
The collective sound of laughter and enjoyment came from Susy’s Place, akin to the type of enjoyment he once felt with Lennie.
The thought intruded George’s mind and lingered, breaking a shaking sigh from the shorter man’s lips; followed swiftly with a , or at least attempted, comforting squeeze of the shoulder from Slim.
The men stilled outside the brothel. George could feel Slim’s stare, immensely, almost like a barrel of a gun, pressed against his cranium. Dammit… he thought, damming the thought that dared to enter his head.
“George,”
The jerkline skinner spoke. George’s voice shook, embarrassingly.
“W—What’s it?” God, was he weak.
Slim hesitated for a moment before continuing on in the strangely calm tone he always held, even in situations like this
“…You sure you gon’ be awright? Drinkin’ at a time this ain’t goin’ to do you no good.”
“Yeah, who are you to tell me what’s good and what ain’t?”
George replied snappily, yet not being able to hide the crack of feebleness that was lingering in his tone.
Slim had dealt with grief before, he knew how much it pained him and how much it was paining George in turn, so he never took the words of a mourning man to heart.
Slim’s warm, comforting hand made its way to George’s chin, tilting upward slightly to make eye contact with the man shorter than himself, offering a warm smile to him. Unsurprisingly, the kind expression wasnt returned, nevertheless, a kind tone laced Slim’s calming, rough voice.
“If you’re really sure.”
…
Slim was right, much like he always was.
George lay in his arms, face flushed and tears spilling down his cheeks in a drunken phase of grief and despair, the ranch hand labourer starting his words with a voice interrupted with sobs.
“S—Shouldn’t a’ killed ‘im.. shoulda’ let ‘im get away.. the bastard was u—useless in that mind o’ his but Goddamn it, if he’d kept running h—hed’ve been f—free by now…”
Slim just listened, didn’t interrupt, affirm or deny George’s claims, just took it in.
Once nothing but George’s quiet sobs, muffled by the material of Slim’s button up were the only thing heard, or at least what Slim was paying attention to amongst the hooting and whistling in the cathouse, he spoke,
“You done what you had to, Milton, ain’t nothing you could’ve done better than what’cha did. If you’d let him go, he’d be gettin’ lynched, you know how much Curley wanted him gone.”
George didn’t respond, Slim continued.
“Tell ya’ what, George, I’ll bet’cha Lennie found his way to heaven with a sweet soul like his own, with his Aunt Clara you was talkin’ to me about.”
George’s tear filled green eyes flickered up, looking into Slim’s.. oddly beautiful blue ones.. but that was the drink talking, right?
Right.
George was drunk. That must be the same reason his cheeks were oddly flushed right about now. His rough and strained voice spoke quietly.
“…You s’pose?”
“I do.”
The kind smile was back on Slim’s handsome and defined features, the type that would make anyone turn back at least twice to make sure they were seeing right, including George.
But George wasn’t queer, he couldn’t be.
…
A few pints of beer later and George was lifted into strong arms of the skinner and the back of his horse, heading back to Tyler Ranch.
The usual blazing heat of Soledad had calmed down during the night, giving the two men more of a reason to be so close.
There was nothing inherently romantic or unusual about this situation, especially considering it was between two men. And George wasn’t queer.
George’s hand carded through his brunette, soft and slightly sweaty hair, an attempt to be rid of the thoughts running rapid in his mind. He assumed this was his own way of coping, that he was just looking for comfort in the presence of the other… handsome, sweet, and caring man on the ranch…
But he wasn’t gay. He wasn’t one of “them” people. The type that’d be strung up and beaten if they were ever found out about. The thought made him shiver, for some reason. But he was straight, he had nothing to worry about. Surely.
George was pulled out of his thoughts when Slim’s hand was out infront of him. He was so trapped in his own mind he hadn’t noticed the horse stopping at all. He reached out for Slim’s strong, calloused hand and carefully got down off the stallion.
Slim’s voice spoke,
“You feelin’ alright? Well, as alright as you can be at a time like this?”
George replied after a moment of thought,
“Yeah… ‘t’s probably jes’ the drinks settlin’ though, making me feel alright.”
He admitted. He was so honest with Slim, more than he’d even been with Lennie since he’d never understand what George was trying to say to him so why would he even bother.
Slim let out a little chuckle before speaking in a more serious manner,
“Let’s sober you up a little, avoid a hangover.”
…
George was sat in the barn with Slim, a pail of water sitting between the pair and a cup in both their hands as the two swung in the rickety old chairs which had settled there long before either of the pair had arrived, George’s eyes settled back on Slim.
“You nice to all the folks that been comin’ about here, or am I gettin’ special treatment?”
A huffed laugh came from Slim as his eyes met the fellow workers.
“I try be welcomin’ to everyone, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t developed a little bit of a soft spot for you, Milton.”
George paused, hardened finger tips pressing against the metal of the cup he was holding, coupled with the light blush gathering on his tanned cheeks. He’d always expected Slim to be a smooth talker with women, especially with the way he’d act at Susy’s Place whenever the guys went out to town, but now it was working on him?
George was truly speechless, nothing but a small noise from the back of his throat escaping him.
Slim let out an amused chuckle before speaking smoothly, and, if George wasn’t mistaken, a slightly deeper tone than before.
“What was that, George?” He spoke with a smile on his face.
A cough drew from the labourers throat as he sat up and sucked in a deep breath.
“I—I was jes’… thrown off… nobody’s been this nice to me in a… a good while.”
He said, looking away from the enticing blue eyes of Slim.
A familiar hand found its way to George’s chin and tilted it upward, forcing eye contact.
“Milton,”
George was blushing. Undeniably now. This feeling was completely unique. He’d truly never had a sweetheart. Of course, a sweetheart was something every man desired, something that kept every man going during the darkest times. George always wanted a sweetheart, hell, the night Curley’s wife threatened running away, he had half a mind to go with her. But this with something different, a man holding him like this, touching him so softly with his rough hand, it made him feel things he’d never felt with the girls in the cathouse.
He stuttered out a response,
“S—Slim.”
Slim smirked, his hand remaining on George’s chin as he stood, looking down at the younger man.
“Y’know, I seen the way you look at me, I ain’t blind.”
George’s eyes widened. What was he talking about? Perhaps the time he was admiring the way he worked, his leadership, his dominance, his strong body moving around the ranch and his ability to take on any job. But, that was just admiration of his work ethic, at least, that’s what George told himself.
George chuckled nervously,
“Was just— admirin’ the way you work, that’s all.”
Suddenly, George’s body was pulled up, a strong arm wrapping around him while the other remained near him, the hand attached moving to his cheek.
“You lyin’ to me, George?”
Slim’s tone had gotten weird. Weird in a way that made all of the blood in George’s body rush down, deep down. The type of weird that left him panting and needing more.
“I—I ain’t no fairy, Slim.”
“Never claimed you was.”
Slim countered with ease and confidence, making the aching in George’s boxers grow. Slim’s eyes shifted downward then back at George’s emerald eyes.
“You all sobered up now?”
George nodded, his body in desperate need of Slim’s touch.
“Say it, Milton.”
“Y—Yeah, I’m sober.”
A smirk crept onto Slim’s features.
“Atta boy.”
…
George’s belt was unbuckled, his head thrown back against the wooden wall of the barn and his hand tangled into dark locks.
His own hand was clasped under his mouth to hide moans as Slim’s mouth worked around him, his tongue tracing the veins of the underside of his cock.
God, he was too good at this.
Slim’s ocean eyes looked up George’s tear filled one, this time not from sadness, but pleasure, he tried to speak, when a harsh suck was subjected to his tip, pre-cum beading at the top and falling against Slim’s skill full tongue.
George managed to get out,
“P—Please.. c—can I move?”
Slim let out a slow nod, smirking around the fullness of George’s own cock as the shorter man’s hips started to rock forward.
The hand wrapped in Slim’s hair was now starting to be used, George pushing the man’s head down to his pelvis at his pubic hair.
The two men locked eyes. This sent George over the edge, he pulled Slim’s soft lips directly against his pelvis and released down his throat, leaving George panting and the last remaining pleasure filled tears going down his face.
Slim quickly got back up, wiping his mouth.
George’s eyes widened and he blushed madly. Slim… swallowed.
He was clearly aware of the effect he had on George as that all knowing smirk painted his face once more.
That rough tone spoke again, now a little strained from the rough impact of George’s shaft.
“You ready for round two, gorgeous?”
Oh, boy.
…
Slim’s large, calloused fingers were digging into George’s cheek as his hand wrapped around his face, muffling his loud groans.
George’s back was arched helplessly off the sheets, Slim’s cock pressing into his prostate with every thrust. He could definitely see why he was so popular at the cathouse now.
With every thrust George felt himself being helplessly dominated and taken by the man he looked so highly up to, and he was overjoyed with this moment.
George’s whole body was so sensitive right now, to the point where every vein of Slim’s dick could be felt pulsing inside of him.
George’s hair was a mess, more so than usual as he was fucked into. Slim’s eyes darted around his body before he lifted his hand of his face and spoke between pants, one hand still on George’s hip and still thrusting deeply into his body.
“Darlin’?”
George was taken aback by the nickname but responded nonetheless.
“M—Mhm?”
He managed between moans.
“I—I’m gettin’ close.. in or out..?”
George’s eyes widened before his legs wrapped around Slim’s waist and drew him as close as possible, his back arching and walls tightening around Slim, drawing a loud groan from Slim as he came. Inside.
George’s body went limp against the bed and Slim followed suit, his body lying next to George’s, his arm wrapping around him and playing with his soft hair.
Slim turned to him.
“Hey, Milton.”
George looked into his eyes without a word.
Slim smiled gently.
“I think it’s a little more than a soft spot I’ve got for you.”
Finishing the night off with a gentle kiss.