Rating: M (language, sexual situations)
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Disclaimer: Jack and Ennis belong to Annie Proulx. This story has no commercial purpose whatsoever and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.
Summary: Jack and Ennis discoverthe joys of making loveon Brokeback Mountain.
Note: This is about the two men and their psychosexual experiences during their first summer together.

Summer Of Love

Growing Up

Ennis trades places with Jack

The last time Ennis looked like a boy, the last time Ennis felt like a boy, was when he was in the camp watching Jack up on the mountain herding the sheep. It was still their first week together on Brokeback Mountain.

Jack, like some god up there on Olympus, yet the same Jack who couldn't really even handle the mare with the low startle point. Ennis knew that, he loved that, actually. Silly, wasn't it?

As he watched Jack, he felt much like a child who is realizing for the very first time that its parents … creators … gods, whatever, are just human. Not they are to be knocked from their pedestals. But that they are characters in the child's story, just as the child has been part of their world since the beginning.

By chance Jack had become a character in Ennis' story. Of course, Ennis would never consider Jack as a parent. Crazy, laughing, rodeo-riding Jack—never a parent! Could a man like that be a god? Perhaps. Certainly not the God that Ennis' Methodist parents had prayed to. But Ennis could have his own gods, couldn't he?

The sun caught the freckles on Ennis' fair face, the sandy hair that strayed from beneath his cowboy hat. Not even twenty, he stood tall in his boots, worn through though they were.

He was tall, yet too innocent to be a man.

He watched Jack, so miniscule up there, no bigger than a sheep, from where Ennis stood. But there were a thousand of them, and only one Jack. Only one.

He looked forward to supper time, when Jack would come riding back to camp, and they would spend the evening together.

Ennis never said much but enjoyed himself vicariously through Jack's outrageous stories about being a rodeo cowboy. Ennis' favorite time was when he told Jack that his father had said that rodeo cowboys were all fuck-ups.

"The hell they are," Jack had replied with feigned indignation. Then he had surprised Ennis with a sudden re-enactment of a cowboy whirling around madly on a bull, waving to the crowd and finally getting thrown. Jack fell with comic abandon into their pots, pans and other utensils, causing quite a din, and quite a sight.

Ennis laughed. "I think my daddy was right," he said. He loved that Jack could do things like that, and all so naturally.

Ennis rarely laughed, and Jack knew his bull-riding antics had been well worth the effort.

As the days went by, the sheep moved further out to pasture, and Jack found his rides into camp were taking more and more time. He was tired of spending four hours a day riding back and forth, to and from the camp and where the sheep were grazing.

One evening after supper, Jack looked longingly at Ennis' tent near the campfire. There was plenty of room for two men in there, he knew.

"Aguirre got no right makin' me sleep out there," he noted.

Eventually Ennis said, "I wouldn't mind sleepin' out there."

"That ain't the point," Jack said. "We should both be sleepin' in the camp."

"Wouldn't mind it," Ennis repeated. Why get indignant about the rules? A job was a job, and if you had to do something unpleasant to keep it, well that was just life, wasn't it?

"Well, okay," Jack agreed.

"I can't cook much," he warned Ennis. "But I am good with a can opener."

Didn't make a difference to Ennis. He wasn't any more talented in that regard.

Ennis wondered why he had offered to sleep out there. With no campfire? In a pup tent that smelled like cat piss or worse? Keeping one eye open for coyotes? Was it to make Jack's life easier, Ennis knowing that he himself would not come into camp every night complaining about his station in life?

Maybe, he thought. But beneath that, he knew that the solitary rides on horseback, keeping busy with the sheep, being on the lookout for coyotes would occupy his mind, keep him from thinking so much about this other man with whom by chance he had to share a summer—think of it, just one summer—of his life.

Ennis didn't think it was wrong to think about another man, of course, but he was frightened of how much he was coming to care about Jack. Ennis thought that if he brought Jack down off the mountain, it might be easier for him to see that yes, this was just a man and not a god.

He never suspected what he was setting in motion: that one night very soon, he would be a guest in Jack's tent, and he himself would become a man.

First Night

That first night in the tent

He hadn't expected Ennis to be in the camp tonight. Or had he? Who, after all, had brought out that extra bottle of whiskey as soon as he sensed that their stories were getting thin and that Ennis would inevitably go back to the sheep, half drunk though he was? Had he not wondered just a little what would happen if Ennis were too drunk to remember that there even were sheep on the mountain? Had he not wondered just a little if something might happen, something different, who knew what?

Had he not suspected that the frigid night air would force even Ennis, the hardiest man in Wyoming for all he could tell, at least into the tent? The bedroll was more than he could have prayed for, but at least the tent ….

Jack lies there, wide awake.

How has it come to this? Why does he always have to fuck things up, complicate everything? For chrissakes, how much simpler can you get than tending to a bunch of sheep? And here he is, with this warm, sleeping body behind him. Ennis' body. Ennis, a simple, steady man who doesn't have the inner conflicts that Jack has. That's the Ennis whom Jack knows. A man who has trusted Jack enough to let him become his friend. Such trust from a man who simply doesn't have friends! Jack feels a pit in his stomach.

But he is a nineteen-year-old boy in love, and what is he supposed to do about it? Nineteen years old, when the quickest way to a man's heart is still through his pants. But what right does he have to Ennis' heart? None, he knows that. Can he blame Ennis for what is happening? Of course not, but that doesn't lessen his heartache.

Jack's hand moves down to his own crotch. He has no doubt about who was in his dreams. He is hard as a rock, and he softly rubs his penis through the denim. He swallows hard. The stroking feels so good, but he doesn't think he can bring himself off quietly enough, even though he is pretty sure Ennis is fast asleep. He could get up and do it outdoors, but it is damned cold out there, and he is not eager to leave the warmth of the bedroll.

Can he maybe back up into Ennis? Maybe a little something to stoke a later fantasy? Certainly something that could happen innocently enough during sleep. He inches very cautiously toward the other man, alert to any changes in Ennis' deep, regular breathing. He succeeds in butting up against Ennis, who is lying on his back. No harm done. Jack's heart races as he feels the heat of Ennis' body.

Ennis is straight, he knows that. As is he himself. Jack is just lonely, he is sure of it. All he wants is a hug—he wants to feel that man's body against his, but more than this surreptitious, unrequited contact. He wants to feel Ennis' strong arms wrapped around him. Yes, that's all he wants. Because nothing else happens between men, does it, unless they are queer?

Jack has not thought at all about what else can happen between men, not really. No details worked out, but what he needs is complicated by desires that he has never felt before.

Jack can understand his physical desires, but these other longings, he can't get a handle on these. He senses danger if he pursues them. But Ennis is here, right here, and Jack must find out. He must find out what will happen to these other troubling feelings if he acts on his physical desires. He hopes any physical efforts will vanquish the other thoughts. He knows that would make all this more bearable, all this that is dragging him into uncharted territory.

At best, he would lose his only real friend. That is a loss that he cannot fully comprehend. He would be forced to take the pain with him as he left the mountain at once, cast out for having betrayed Ennis' trust. At worst, he would die at Ennis' own hands, as his friend blindly, and rightfully, defended his manhood.

Or does he have his best- and worst-case scenarios mixed up?

He takes a deep breath and reaches for Ennis' hand.

Earlier that evening, as the two men had shared the first bottle of whiskey in front of the campfire, Ennis had replied to Jack's observation about the two of them marching off to hell on Judgement Day: "You may be a sinner, but I ain't yet had the opportunity."

He had been joking. Or had he? Had there not been a vague hope behind his statement, a hope that somehow his opportunities might improve? Sooner rather than later?

He had let Jack get him drunk, hadn't he? Why? He would have gotten his forty winks outdoors by the campfire, no problem, and gone up to the sheep at dawn. But his drunkenness magnified his longing to be around Jack. That's all it was, though—he just wanted to be near his friend. Probably just wanted to be near someone who didn't bleat or neigh, he figured. Yes, that was it.

He ended up freezing outdoors under just the one blanket, teeth chattering loudly. Jack called from the tent, commanded him really, to get his ass in there. Ennis staggered in that direction, reckoned he would plop down in the tent under his blanket. Never thought he would end up in the bedroll, but Jack told him there was plenty of room. Which there was.

Ennis was so grateful to Jack, felt like he was in a womb, safe, fell fast asleep in the warmth.

Ennis is sound asleep, but suddenly he finds his hand in a very warm place. On Jack's erect cock! Oh fuck, what am I doing, what have I done? Ennis is in a panic. I was just sleeping, I'm sure I was just sleeping! And then he feels Jack's hand on his own, firmly on his own hand. Oh my god, what's happening here? Ennis pulls back like he's touched fire. Oh fuck, what does he want? Ennis' mind races. I'm not ready for this, no not really, no. No, Jack, you couldn't have known, you don't know how I feel! Jack is taking his coat off. Why? It is cold in the tent, very cold now that they are both out of the bedroll. Jack's face is coming close, and his eyes are half-closed: Is Jack trying to kiss him? No no no, there can be none of that, Ennis knows that is wrong. "What are you doing?" he demands. No! He pushes Jack, trying to fend him off. Turns his face to avoid the possibility of a kiss. What is this sickness, where did this come from, why is he doing this to me? He is shocked that even as they grapple, he hears the unmistakable sound of Jack undoing his belt buckle, opening his jeans for Ennis. God help me, Ennis pleads silently but frantically. What do I do next? I've never been here before, what do I do next? I'm a man, and I'm supposed to know what to do! A man always knows what to do! He has only ever seen livestock fuck, so the only familiar thing to him is to flip Jack over and somehow mount him, penetrate him. Is this right, is he really supposed to fuck this man like an animal? Ennis has no time to reconsider his impulses, no time to consider whether this is what Jack needs or wants to happen. It is just animal instinct taking over. Ennis pulls Jack's pants down with one hand, the other hand ripping his own belt open. He is on his knees behind Jack, feels the warmth where he has bared Jack's body, and he drops his own jeans. This has to happen now, now, now! No time to think—has to do it! With Jack on all fours, Ennis spits into his hand, rubs that on himself, pulls himself against Jack's butt. Takes him only seconds to find his target. Ennis pushes, gets nowhere. He grabs Jack's hips, pushes again, violently, it doesn't matter, he can't stop now, has to get there! He breaks past a tense ring of muscle. It is a totally new sensation, and he is in! In a frenzy, he shoves, shoves his full length with force into that inner sanctum, not mindful of Jack's initial yelp followed by tortured groans, gasps, grunts. Ennis fucks Jack deeply, pulling the other man's bare ass back against his own groin as though he were dragging an unwilling piece of livestock. Ennis' noises reflect his own exertions: deep, rutting grunts, all sweaty animal, moans as he pulls back and forth in ecstasy. He has never had release like that which follows. At the end of his frantic thrusting, the hotness intensifies with each spurt of semen deep inside Jack. It is all animal instinct, but deep down Ennis thinks, "I love you Jack. I love you. Oh my god, I love you!" It terrifies him to think that. He has not loved anyone since his mother died, and now this. Now this! He doesn't understand.

The pain is searing for Jack. He did not know what he wanted from Ennis, still doesn't know, but he thinks he is getting it. He thinks, but he is not sure. Why did I undo my pants? All I wanted was a kiss, a hug, and why did I open my pants? He knows that he had put Ennis' hand on his cock, but he hadn't expected this. He had thought, well, what the fuck had he thought? That he would just borrow Ennis' hand? Oh my god, this is so painful, oh christ, so painful! He feels every inch of pain, and he thinks he is going to die, that Ennis is going to split him open. Every thrust burns more as the friction builds. This is what else men can do, he realizes, besides hugging. Despite the pain, he becomes even harder as these new sensations take over. He is surprised at how he responds to this unexpected force. He bucks against Ennis, wanting him deep, deep, oh so deep. He doesn't care about the sobering pain—this pleasure of having another man inside him is too intense. Another man inside him! Is that what he had hoped for? He wanted a kiss, he wanted a hug, he wanted to be ready. But now, just this. Just this! What is that, he wonders. What is that going on inside? He had never known where his prostate was, that he even had one, but he does now. With each shove, Ennis hits it with force, and Jack has no control, no control whatsoever over this tightness, this excitement from inside. His face is close to the ground. Oh fuck, oh my god, fuck! He can't even touch himself, he is trying too hard to stay up on all fours as Ennis drags him back. Jack doesn't touch himself at all, hears himself groan, "Gun's goin' off!" And he shoots his load out onto the bedroll. He gasps at this unparalleled pain, at this unparalleled pleasure. No kiss, no hug, just this.

Second Night

That second night in the tent

How do you kiss a man? That is what Ennis has been worrying about all day long. He doesn't really even know how to kiss a woman. It has never gotten that far with Alma, not that kind of kissing, because she is a good girl. And he is a good boy.

But less than thirty feet away sits a half-naked man who wants Ennis to kiss him.

The very man that Ennis had fucked like an animal the night before. Ennis knows how to do that, but how does he kiss him?

Darkness has settled in, and it is time for Ennis to mount his horse and head back to the sheep, way up there on the mountain.

Instead, he looks toward the tent.

He hesitates. Will the coyotes get another sheep tonight? Jack is correct—there are a thousand sheep. But Ennis' principles are at stake here. Does he leave the flock to the perils of nature so he can enjoy one more glorious night with Jack?

Yes, because he must find out what is going to happen. Right here tonight. In the camp. In that tent.

He must.

Even as he sits by the campfire working up the courage to go to the tent, Ennis tries to convince himself that it's not true. Jack doesn't really want me to kiss him, does he? Like he's a girl? Ennis is pretty sure that Jack tried to kiss him last night. There was no kissing, Ennis made sure of that, but after what did happen … what can't two men do together? Ennis has never considered the possibilities, has never had reason to, but he is frightened that there even are possibilities.

Last night? Last night was drunken violence. Like a barroom brawl, say. Like wrestling or something. No thought at all, it just happened. Didn't it?

He looks toward the tent. Jack has left the flap open. He sits on a blanket inside, and the glow of the campfire flickers on his skin as he removes his undershirt. Ennis swallows nervously. He is mesmerized by the act of Jack taking off his shirt. It startles him to realize that he wishes he were taking that shirt off for Jack.

Ennis is getting an erection as he sits there on the log before the campfire. But this is not simply animal instinct, like last night was. The heat he feels is not from the campfire. No, this is something different, Ennis has to admit. This is … what?

He has already suppressed that fleeting thought he had when he was coming inside Jack the night before. I love you, is what he had thought, and he had been terrified. But no matter. Whether he says it or not, whether he can think it or not, the love is there, and it is true.

The two men had circled each other all day like wary wolves. Watching, watching, watching. Observing with great interest how the other man moved in his snug jeans, muscles packed solidly in denim. Surreptitiously eyeing each other's muscles and movements, crotches and asses. How forcefully or gracefully the other man mounted a horse, performed the most routine task. Visual appreciation, yet instinct all the same, like dogs picking up each other's scent.

Physically close, yet maintaining great emotional distance.

Watching and waiting. For what? For tonight, they both knew it.

And now tonight was here. Jack and Ennis had eaten supper in near silence, with only the occasional noncommittal comment. No offhand remarks to acknowledge or betray further interest in last night's shocking sexual activity.

This time there was only one whiskey bottle, in fact only half a bottle between them. Like the night before, they passed it back and forth after supper. Neither was prepared to go into this completely sober, whatever this was going to be. Unlike the night before, when their stories and a good deal of whiskey had stretched out the evening to its violent carnal conclusion in the tent, tonight it was the simple passing of the bottle that mattered. His mouth, then his mouth, then his mouth … and his mouth. So many hopes in each swallow, so many unspoken hopes. Not a word was said.

Jack and Ennis would not be drunk this time. They would not be half-asleep. The campfire still burned brightly, the air not yet frigid enough to drive two men to sleep in the same bedroll.

After the previous night, after Ennis had violently taken Jack, it had seemed that Ennis would emerge the alpha male.

But it would not be that way tonight. They both knew it. Ennis needed Jack's lead, because he himself had no idea what to do next. He could only respond to Jack.

True, if Jack tried to kiss him, he could fight him off and probably re-create last night's power play. But would Jack want that again, what happened last night? My god, he must be so angry about that, so sore. But he's hiding it well, Ennis thinks.

He doesn't know that having Ennis hit that pleasure spot over and over and over, finally receiving his essence deep within him, was the most exciting thing Jack had ever felt, possibly ever would feel in his life.

Jack thinks, yes, I undid my pants, I offered myself, I guess. But I can't believe Ennis did that to me. I can't believe I let him do that to me. He took me like an animal, caused me incredible pain, and I was ecstatic! I came without touching myself. He had never done that except in a wet dream.

He wants Ennis to take him again, come deep inside him, slowly … but the pain. Jack is only human, and some of his bruises must heal before he can endure that again.

Jack revels in a feeling of vulnerability as he undresses very slowly in the tent. He's watching me, watching my every move, Jack knows, and he feels the heat of Ennis' gaze. That alone gives him an erection. I will be naked, he thinks, defenseless, and Ennis can do with me what he will.

I'm taking my shirt off, Ennis. Watch me take off my undershirt. You see my bare chest, don't you? My pants. I'm unbuckling my belt. Are you ready for me to take off my pants? Would you like me to take off my shorts? Or would you like to do it, he asks silently, the previous night still fresh in his mind. Ennis tearing at Jack's clothing, desperate to pull his pants down. Jack gets even harder.

Jack thinks, I want Ennis to kiss me, to hug me. I want to feel skin on skin, I want to feel his mouth on mine. I want to tell him that I love him. Can I say that to another man? What would happen if I did? He decides that maybe his feelings toward Ennis are an obsession, that he is just lonely up there on Brokeback Mountain, that he is only nineteen and he is horny and maybe he doesn't even know what love is.

Besides, the other man is Ennis, and Jack knows Ennis could never feel the same way about him. He couldn't, could he?

Yet he didn't kill me, Jack realizes. I think he is still my friend. And nothing about our relationship, my feelings for him, has become any clearer. What did I do wrong?

Earlier in the day, in a one-minute declaration, they had agreed that neither one of them was queer, and that it would be a one-shot deal—that their affair was only for the summer, was never to be mentioned again once they left the mountain.

But what was the one-shot deal? The night before had happened because of Jack's risk-taking and Ennis' instinctive response. And the results—well, one-shot deal or not, on or off the mountain, neither man would ever forget the intensity of the encounter. And they both knew it.

What was going to happen now? Neither man could say. The stage had been set for a drama, but of what type?

I told him I ain't queer, Jack thinks. I'm sure I ain't. So what the hell is our one-shot deal, just what is it that's nobody's business but ours?

Ennis is about to rise from the log, hesitates about going toward he tent, going to Jack. How can I look at him after what I did? Look him in the eye, touch him, look into those eyes and touch him?

Today he watched Jack's body. Ennis wondered what he was really looking at. It's not like Alma, Jack's not a girl. She is what, an impression of beauty? But Jack is beauty. Ennis knows it's wrong, but he must see Jack's naked body! Has Ennis earned that right?

Ennis enters the tent, hesitating, his hat before him like a shield.

Jack pushes the hat aside and extends his hand.

Ennis wants to cry, and he cannot look Jack in the eye. Jack doesn't realize how beautiful he is to Ennis. This dark beauty fills Ennis with fear because he can no longer ignore it.

Oh, Ennis, dear Ennis. He is afraid, isn't he? He thinks I know what to do! What should I do? Jack draws himself up toward Ennis, gently cradles the other man's face with his hands.

Jack's face is getting closer. He wants to kiss me, Ennis thinks. Again he wants to kiss me! Ennis turns his face away. He wonders, God, why am I here, why did I come here? I could step away, I could run away, but I've come this far. I can't just leave him like this, can I? No, I've said so much just by coming here.

Those eyes! He has long eyelashes. A dumb thing to notice. Am I trying to make a woman of him? No, no, not at all. This is a man's body, Jack is nothing if not a man. His thick neck, stubble on his beautiful face, his broad chest with its fine layer of dark hair, the muscles in his arms, his powerful legs. His flat stomach, firm butt. His cock! No doubt this is a man, and all mine? Dare I touch him?

"It's all right," Jack whispers as their mouths come closer. "It's all right."

Ennis is nearly in tears, his lower lip trembling. But he is drawn to the taste of Jack's mouth, unmistakably male, redolent of whiskey, cigarettes, the crisp mountain air itself.

Their lips meet for the very first time. Warm, tentatively touching, their mouths reaching out, just the lips to start with. Ennis, who rarely speaks or smiles, revealing little behind those tight lips, opens, finally opens his mouth to Jack, and their moist tongues meet, begin a slow, sensuous dance.

I am kissing Jack, he realizes with a start. I am kissing another man! Jack, with his mischievous mouth with its lovely curves. A mouth made for smiling. A mouth made for kissing.

He feels the roughness of Jack's evening shadow, a contrast to their smooth kisses.

Jack thinks about Ennis, he's just like a boy on his first date—handsome and shy. He is such a boy, but a man too. Don't I know he's a man! Jack decides that his feelings toward Ennis probably are love after all.

His skin tingles as Ennis comes closer. Oh my god, how I want him to touch me there, he thinks, and he is not even sure where there is. He just wants Ennis' big hands, his rough hands, a man's hands to touch him.

I can't wait to touch Ennis, to find out who he really is, what he really feels like, Jack thinks. What he smells like. What he … what he tastes like? He knows that the previous night was the one-shot deal—they could never re-create that sort of impromptu fury. But now, what is the rest of Ennis like, what is he really about? Jack still wants that hug, he still wants that kiss. He wants so much more that he hasn't even yet named.

Last night Jack had wondered: What can men do together besides hug and kiss? He had found out. Tonight, Ennis wonders: What can two men do with each other that isn't like animals mounting one another? Is it wrong that he wants last night to happen again, that he craves the powerful intimacy he experienced when he came inside Jack? How can he get that again without blindly hurting the other man?

Jack lies back, and Ennis rests his head on his chest, wondering what the night holds. And then Jack rolls on top of him, lowers his face to kiss him deeply. He captures Ennis' mouth once and for all. There is no escape.

Ennis has never seen another man aroused, and he averts his eyes. Jack lifts Ennis' chin, makes him look. "Look at me, Ennis," he says softly, pleadingly. Ennis looks at Jack's broad chest, nipples all erect, his flat stomach, the swirls of dark hair. "You can look there, Ennis. It's okay," says Jack encouragingly, basking in his nakedness. Ennis obeys, swallows deeply and blushes when he gazes admiringly at Jack's glistening manhood.

How do I take my clothes off, Ennis wonders. He is petrified. Jack is naked, and what does he expect me to do now? Jack, always the showman, seems proud of his erection, anxious to share. But Ennis—well, no one has ever seen him hard!

But he'll do what must be done. He takes off his boots, unbuttons his shirt and removes it, unbuckles his belt, even unbuttons his jeans. He just cannot bring himself to expose any skin.

Jesus, I'm going to have to undress the son of a bitch, Jack realizes. Ennis is so afraid, trembles, and Jack is sympathetic, yet part of him wants to smile.

He kneels before Ennis. He strokes him through his jeans, and feels that Ennis is excited as can be. Well, thank god for at least that, Jack thinks. He has never done this before, but Ennis moans in response to Jack's fingers, and that only encourages Jack. He unzips Ennis' pants, and Jack's heart beats rapidly as he slowly pulls them down. He takes pleasure in stripping a man who modestly tucks the tail of his shirt in at every opportunity, lest any skin be exposed.

Ennis is still in his boxers, but Jack sees the outline of his dick, tugs down the shorts. Ennis steps out of his jeans and underwear.

Jack pulls Ennis down onto the blanket.

Ennis is naked except for his undershirt. Well, this must look foolish, he thinks. He sits up to pull the garment over his head. Jack lays Ennis back down again and caresses his chest, slowly studying the contours of each muscle, strokes the fledgling patch of hair at the middle. Jack adores the other man's pale imperfections. So masculine. So Ennis.

Ennis thrills to the feel of Jack's stubble on his skin, as Jack kisses him under the chin, as he kisses his chest. As he kisses a nipple. Oh my god, Ennis feels a surge as soon as Jack's tongue, a hint of his stubble, hits that nipple. What the …? Ennis is surprised at how connected the different parts of his body seem to be.

Ennis brushes against Jack's pubic hair, and the feeling is raw and electric. Ennis is pretty sure that enough of that would take him over the edge. He continues to rub on Jack's groin, surprised at how warm and comforting that is. Ennis is so excited about this contact, about doing anything at all so intimately with Jack, that he almost shoots his load after only a few minutes. He knows that he will not have to take Jack by force this evening, and that will be fine.

Jack hovers over Ennis and kisses his tight stomach, and suddenly Ennis holds his breath. He is worried about what might happen next. Where is Jack going to put his mouth? Is he going to put it there? He has a feeling Jack might. He worries, because if Jack's mouth goes there, then does his mouth have to do something like that too? He doesn't know about this. What Jack is doing feels awful good, but Ennis doesn't know if he is ready to do the same. But how could he not? Especially after what he feels was a totally one-sided encounter the night before.

For his part, Jack is not sure what to do with the other man's tumescence, but desiring more of Ennis' scent, desiring a taste, wanting to do whatever he can to please Ennis, to draw everything he can out of the man, Jack moves his face toward his friend's groin. It is his turn to be instinctive, and he puts his mouth there.

Ennis' eyes are closed, but he is tense. God, what is he doing? he wonders. This feels good, but … but … what are we doing?

Jack can tell he needs to make Ennis relax. He grabs on to Ennis' butt and takes him fully in his mouth, right to the hilt.

Ennis gasps, "Holy fuck!"

Without thinking, he thrusts upward, and Jack gags. Ennis is alarmed, opens his eyes, pulls back. He just doesn't have control over his body when he is with Jack, does he? If he isn't attacking him, he's choking him!

Jack considers his own physical response to be a momentary inconvenience. He has never done this before, and he was just surprised.

He looks up. "Friend," he says, "it's all right. Really. Just relax, Ennis. I never done this before neither." But Jack knows he is on the right track. He is thrilled to have gotten Ennis to exclaim "Holy fuck!" To say anything at all.

Ennis hesitates.

"Let's try that again," Jack tells him, and Ennis moves toward the other man's mouth.

Jack follows his own advice and takes it more slowly this time, swirls his tongue around a bit. Ennis moans loudly. He has never felt anything like this, never even imagined anything like this. For the moment he doesn't worry that he might have to do the same to Jack.

Jack hasn't done this before, but he imagines what he would like to have done to himself. Yes, it would feel good to have someone put their mouth there, do things with their tongue, use their fingers like that.

Ennis writhes to the gentle roughness of Jack's tongue. Ennis looks at Jack. That beautiful mouth, doing him like that. For Ennis this is like being in a dream. The most beautiful man in the world doing this to Ennis Del Mar!

All of a sudden Ennis feels Jack take him even deeper. "Holy fuck!" he exclaims again.

Jack continues doing this to his new lover, and Ennis is in a frenzy, thrusting faster and faster.

Jack knows Ennis is about to lose control, and he squeezes, massages, twists at will. Jack learned well the principle of pain leading to intense pleasure, and he wants to share that with Ennis.

He tightens his grip, and Ennis bucks wildly in ecstatic release.

Jack savors the taste, the texture, the fragrance of Ennis' semen, unlike anything he has ever tasted before, but much to his liking, very earthy.

Ennis gasps as he looks at Jack with amazement. What two men can do together, indeed!

But he is still unsure about what Jack will want, and he worries. He'll want to take me like I took him last night, won't he? After what I did, what can I expect? What does it mean if I let him do that? No, I can't do that.

Indeed, Jack would like to fuck Ennis, from the front, slowly, while kissing him. But he knows that Ennis is not ready to be penetrated, that it doesn't all have to happen tonight, that there will be time to work up to that.

"Ennis, touch me," Jack says. He tells Ennis to take it slowly, build up the intensity gradually. Jack is enjoying immensely the feel of another man's hand there, of Ennis' hand gently doing what only his own has done before.

As Ennis becomes more intimate with his lover's sensations, Jack moans, "Oh Ennis, Ennis, that feels so good." Ennis' strokes become more urgent, and Jack moves in rhythm.

Suddenly Jack stops with a jolt, delivers himself with force into Ennis' hand.

Ennis decides this is his chance to take the lead, to vanquish any hang-ups he has about kissing and the gentler aspects of lovemaking. He moves up to face Jack. He lowers his head and hungrily attacks Jack's mouth. A kiss! He feels so accomplished that he can initiate a kiss. But it is awkward with little finesse, and Jack pulls back, much to Ennis' surprise. "Easy, Ennis. Easy," Jack says tenderly. "There's no rush." Indeed, it is still hours until dawn, when Ennis will return to the sheep for the day.

After last night, Jack understands passion and violent pleasure, and he has the needs of any nineteen-year-old boy. But he is in love, and even though the summer will end, he does not want that to end. He wants to savor every kiss, every touch, every loving word from Ennis. He wants to take more than just an impression of love down off the mountain. He wants to take their love itself with him, and to do that, he needs to remember. He must capture detailed memories. He pretends that someday far in the future, he will be describing these days. What would he remember, and why?

Ennis is in love too, but he has no such strategy. What will happen, will happen.

Yet Ennis has learned. They both have learned so much tonight. That there is more than one way to please another man. That there is more than one way to love another man. That there is an art to it all—being creative, romantic, human.

Ennis turns Jack over onto his stomach, slowly drags his tongue along Jack's spine from the back of his neck on down, intensifying his lover's new erection as he shivers with delight.

"Oh god, that's wonderful, Ennis. That's wonderful," Jack whispers.

Then Ennis climbs onto Jack's back. Jack's slightly undulating response to his kissing has Ennis all excited again, but he just lies there, enveloping Jack, his heart beating against Jack's muscular back, taking in this other man, this new scent that has suddenly become so important to him. He is hard, and Jack is hard, but it is all right. They will take care of each other in good time. There is no rush.

Ennis Delivers

Ennis asks, receives, and delivers

The boys are settling back against the log, the campfire blazing even though the night chill has not yet set in, because they are sitting there naked on a blanket. They have made love outdoors only once so far, on another night like this when it was too warm in the tent.

Unlike Jack, who is modest although comfortable being nude, Ennis is not quite sure about this, being naked outdoors and all. One reason he hesitates is because it feels so damned good to have the soft breeze play across his skin. He is not sure he deserves this.

They have been lovers about a week now. Haven't used the word "love" at all, won't ever use it, but that's what it is. Well, maybe it's not quite that yet. It's probably still obsession. This is all so new for them, so exciting, like discovering a toy they never even knew existed. It's intense but playful, romantic but rough, the physical language predominating while the emotions brew just beneath the surface.

Ennis has his arm around Jack as the latter rests his head on Ennis' shoulder. Staring into the fire, without looking at the other man, Ennis takes a deep breath and says, "Jack, how about you suck on my dick again, huh?" Damn, he thinks, I can't believe I just said that. It sounds like I ain't happy with that other stuff we been doin', don't it? But it felt so damned good the way he did it that one time.

Sex with another man is so far out of Ennis' realm of understanding that he has been content just to follow Jack's lead. Ennis doesn't know how to ask for anything like Jack seems to. Jack is such a goddamn natural at everything, Ennis thinks. At everything fun or dangerous or immoral, at least. Immoral … is this a sin, is this wrong? It sure don't feel like it, and it don't look like Jack thinks there's anythin' wrong with us havin' fun like this.

Why does this summer have ta end? Why should I even care? Ennis wonders. It was me said it's a one-shot deal we got goin' on here. What the hell was I thinkin'?

"Shit, Ennis, ya tired a my ass already?" Jack looks up at Ennis with that mock-wounded look he is so good at.

Jack is more comfortable than Ennis in joking about their sexual relationship, in talking about their relationship, period. Always will be, in fact. Ennis, like any red-blooded nineteen-year-old male, finds his friendship with Jack and all this sex to be immensely gratifying. But his emotions are involved in ways he doesn't quite understand, and he doesn't think any of it is funny. Even so, he'll pick up on Jack's lead when he can.

He's fuckin' with me, Ennis decides. He pulls Jack closer. "Jack Fuckin' Twist, you son of a bitch, I ain't never goin' a get tired a your ass," he says, looking at Jack with a hint of a smile. "You're so goddamn tight back there, I bet you're tighter 'n any girl in all a Wyomin'. Yeah, ya don't need a worry 'bout that!"

"Aw, just screwin' with ya, Ennis, ya know that."

"Sure 'nuff, Jack." Ennis gets even bolder. "It's just that other thing ya did with your mouth that one time, jesus christ, Jack, ya don't know what that did ta me!"

"Oh, I think I do, friend. The way ya shot. More 'n I ever thought could come out a one dick! Goddamn Old Faithful it was. Yeah, I kind a got an idea what's goin' on down there!" He looks knowingly at Ennis' crotch, where the excitement has become quite apparent. Jack watches himself almost instantly become aroused.

Jack is delighted that Ennis finally is taking a more active role in their lovemaking, at least in terms of sharing his needs, his desires.

Since that first night in the tent, when instinct drove Ennis to take Jack in a fit of violent lust, Jack has guided their sexual relationship. That second night—oh, it was wonderful, helping Ennis discover the other side of men loving each other. How the moves could be firm yet soft, slow yet intense, passionate yet not lost in a rush to orgasm. How he and Ennis could become truly intimate, enjoy each other's bodies.

That is when Jack had first brought Ennis to orgasm with his mouth. But not since.

Jack smiles at Ennis, who realizes how damned proud the other man is of his talented mouth. He's just so sure about all this shit, like he does it for a livin' or somethin', Ennis thinks. But I know he ain't done none a this before neither. He ain't no queer, after all.

"Yeah, Ennis, fine by me. Guess I could give ya the attention ya no doubt deserve." Jack decides maybe his butt could use a break. And he did like bringing Ennis off like that. Wouldn't mind checking out that flavor again. Jack had never tasted anything like that! And how close to a man's essence could you get? That was the very thing itself!

Ennis stretches out. As he positions himself over Ennis, Jack decides, I'm goin' a take it slow again. Ooh, look there, he's damn ready, ain't he? I think he liked it last time when I did that one thing with my tongue.

Jack drops his face to Ennis' groin.

Damn, Ennis thinks, he's like a dog down there, ain't he? Suddenly it occurs to him, I bet I stink, man, smell like sweat an' horse an' sheep. Maybe even piss? Hell.

"Ya know, Jack, I been really sweatin' a lot all day an' everthin'. Hangin' 'round with them dirty sheep an' all, ya know." Ennis wrinkles his brow in concern.

Jack lifts his head in annoyance, looks at Ennis. Shit, I'm trying to concentrate, he thinks. Not like I ever done this more 'n once before. And goddamnit, it is kind a fun, but what does Ennis know about fun?

But still, Jack thinks, I want ta make him happy here. And I don't care if he ever does this ta me or not. But I'd love for him to, would love for that Alma gal ta see that! See her boyfriend lickin' me like that, makin' Jack Twist feel so damned good! Ah, I shouldn't be so mean about it. Wouldn't be thinkin' like this if it wasn't Ennis, though. Just don't never want him to go away. But I got ta pay attention to this, don't I?

"Friend," Jack says, "ya smell like a long, hard day at work herdin' sheep. Ya smell like a goddamn ranch hand, and that's fuckin' okay with me!"

Ennis isn't one to obsess about the finer points of hygiene, but even so, he is self-conscious. Will he really be able to enjoy this? Is he trying to find a reason not to enjoy himself? After all, as much as he likes Jack doing this, it isn't like he himself is willing to do the same to Jack.

"Ah, Jack, ya don't have ta … I mean …damn, it feels good an' all, but …."

Jeez, Jack thinks, this guy is so much himself … and then he apologizes for bein' himself. It's one of the things Jack adores about Ennis, and he is somewhat amused.

"Ennis, for chrissake, ya smell like a man, goddamnit! A man! It's girls supposed ta smell pretty, and lord knows you ain't one a them, Ennis. So just shut the fuck up, and let me do what I need ta do, okay?"

"Well, shit, Jack … I just … well, okay then!" Goddamnit, Ennis tells himself, I just got ta relax, forget about all that sweat an' whatever down there. Jack really likes that, does he? Well, man … I don't know. I guess I'm damn lucky.

I still don't know. Could I do that with my mouth? Maybe if it was real fast, like I wasn't rootin' around down there like a pig! Make him happy maybe, but not swallow or anythin'.

But could I look like I was enjoyin' it the whole time? Do I want Jack lookin' at me like I look at him when he's doin' this ta me? There's somethin' kind a sick about it, ain't there? Like I'm better 'n he is cause he's suckin' on me and I'm lookin' down at him, or somethin'. Can't figure it out. But I'm goin' ta owe him, yeah, it's only fair.

Hell, I'll do that before I ever let him fuck me, that's for sure.

Ennis starts to rationalize what Jack is doing. But damn, what he did to me, the way he did it! His mouth … ah, jesus christ. My mouth could never do that, could it? His is just shaped different, ain't it? Easier for things to slide in and out or somethin'. Damn, how could a guy be so good-lookin' and have a mouth like that too! Just ain't fair …. Yeah, I guess I got no choice but to let him at it, if that's what he wants!

Jack's warm tongue darts out of the mouth that curves up at the corners so sensuously, the little bumps on that tongue like a gentle sandpaper, caressing every inch.

Good, I got him moanin' again, Jack thinks. Wonder if I can make the son of a bitch cuss again? That was pretty funny, gettiin' him ta say somethin' without thinkin' so much about it!

Man, I'm all excited too. Funny, I'm doin' him, and I'm damned excited.

As Jack works him over, Ennis gasps, "Oh Jack, oh, oh …"

Hell, he don't smell so bad down here, Jack decides. No worse 'n a sheep anyway. He is highly amused at his own sense of humor.

Ennis recalls his last orgasm when Jack used his mouth like this. Shit, he thinks, this is goin' ta feel so fuckin' good again. Look at his head there, that beautiful hair. Oh, Jack, you're so beautiful! Look at his head goin' up and down like that, just like that other time. His lips … those lips … that gorgeous mouth. The most beautiful man in the world! Sucking … me … Ennis Del Mar!

The fragments from last week's fellatio slip back into place as Ennis' moans grow louder.

Ennis thinks, this … this seems so dirty … is it that? That beautiful mouth doin' somethin' dirty? I don't know … whatever, I can't share this with nobody, never. No other man ever goin' a have Jack like this, be able to say "Jack Twist has my dick in his mouth"! How can I make sure a that? Ah, hell, why do I got ta keep worryin' about this kind a shit? Our time up here ain't nowhere near over!

But Ennis thinks, hell, Alma ain't goin' a do nothin' like this. I can't make her do nothin' like this with that pretty little mouth a hers, can I? Hell no, she's goin' ta be havin' my babies an' stuff. Can't be doin' none a this.

And then he wonders, is this what it feels like to screw a girl? Or is it like the other night, takin' Jack like I did? Yeah, I bet it's like that, kind a tight an' all. Suppose it don't matter. Feels awful good.

Jack toys with Ennis' balls at the same time. Man, I wish I could stick somethin' up his ass like he did me the other night, Jack thinks. Teach him 'bout that sweet spot. But Ennis? No way, no way. Maybe never. He's just so goddamn … tight … about all this. The son of a bitch don't know what he's missin' out on. I think we're supposed ta be havin' fun, but hell, one step at a time, one step at a time. Just enjoy whatever's goin' on here an' now. After all, I'm goin' down on Ennis Del Mar. No one would believe it, would they, Ennis Del Mar! Wouldn't even believe I got his pants off in the first place ….

With deliberation, Ennis' movements respond to Jack's efforts. Already Jack has picked up on what Ennis is feeling, and he knows that the other man is getting close. He responds by taking him deeper.

Ennis decides not to surprise Jack this time. Jack didn't complain, seemed pleased, in fact, but Ennis felt kind of guilty, just unloading like that the last time.

Regardless, Ennis' thoughts run wild now. Goddamn, that's special, another man doin' somethin' like this ta me! Jack Twist, what a beaut ya are! Can't tell him that, but it's true, ain't it? He's just fuckin' beautiful, an' that mouth a his is sure the prettiest I ever seen on a man! How come I keep thinkin' 'bout that mouth?

"Shit, Jack, shit, this is it man, now!" Ennis groans.

Ennis reaches that point of no return … he loves that point of no return. Jack enjoys his lover's uncontrollable release.

"Ah goddamn, Jack!" Ennis is breathless.

Jack's head continues bobbing up and down, even after the orgasm is over. He wants to make sure none of the precious fluid is wasted. And the fact is that Jack just likes having Ennis in his mouth. But just Ennis, he knows, never another. Never.

Jack starts to exaggerate his noises as he continues to work on Ennis. He knows that Ennis is increasingly ticklish after his orgasms, and Jack is having fun.

That fucker's tryin' ta make me laugh by makin' all those slurpin', lip-smackin' sounds, ain't he? Ennis thinks. "Jack, what the fuck? Somethin' goin' on down there I should know about?"

Jack looks up at Ennis, who realizes, uh oh, he's got that misbehavin' boy look on his face. God, I love that face! The little fucker.

Good Taste

Ennis gives Jack what he deserves

After what Jack had done to him on that second night in the tent, that night of tenderness and loving exploration, Ennis suspected that one day he would find his own mouth serving Jack like that. In fact, he feared that day. He had told himself many times that he wouldn't, couldn't.

He couldn't even imagine how Jack had thought to put his mouth there in the first place! But then that orgasm … that ecstasy … could he deny Jack that any longer?

The idea of bringing Jack off in this manner still unsettles Ennis, who isn't at all sure that he can do to Jack what Jack has been doing to him. He had been shocked, amazed at what Jack did that night, what he has been doing off and on since then. Jack has made it seem so natural, like he is meant to have Ennis Del Mar in his mouth, damn him!

Can't Ennis at least return the favor? Ennis feels guilty, and Jack has never prodded him, but still …. Then again, would he be as successful at it as Jack, Jack with that very special, wonderful mouth of his?

But deep down Ennis is curious. He wonders about the taste … does it even have a taste? He's never sampled his own, so he doesn't know, although there certainly is that distinct scent in the air when he or Jack have an orgasm.

Jack, for his part, is ever mindful of the way his lover worries about anything they do that doesn't involve Ennis fucking him. Even with their limited repertoire, they have immensely enjoyable sex. Yet Ennis knows that Jack would like him to do more, and Jack would like Ennis to experience things that he himself has found to be very rewarding.

Jack has been careful not to pursue the two acts that he thinks would most disturb Ennis: sucking Jack to orgasm and letting Jack fuck him.

They are standing there naked in the sun, kissing and letting their erections rub together when Ennis suddenly says, "Jack, I'm ready."

"What the …?" Jack is surprised.

Ennis pulls away and drops to his knees.

"Jack, I'm ready to do this, to try this anyway," he says softly, his voice trembling.

Jack has hoped this would eventually happen, but he didn't expect it out of the blue like this. He says, "Ennis, if ya don't like it, just stop. Ain't no harm done. Maybe ya won't like it like I do. I don't know. I just think it feels good, tastes good, ya know, but that's just me."

But Ennis is indeed ready, for his own reasons.

He has been pacing their sexual explorations as though they were in some sort of trial period. Can I get through this summer without suckin' Jack's dick? Probably not. Can I get through this summer without gettin' fucked? Hell, yeah, if I got anything ta say about it, and I reckon I do. I'll fight him off again if I have ta like when he first tried to kiss me!

The really disturbing part for Ennis: He knows the summer, the trial period, will end, and he cannot bear that thought. Jack fucking him would put a worthy exclamation point on their time together. For Ennis, letting himself be penetrated would mean the end. It would mean the end.

Ennis doesn't know how to explain this to Jack, doesn't quite understand it himself, how he simply cannot let Jack take him like that. Cannot lose control, cannot lose his manhood, for chrissake!

Much to Ennis' relief, Jack hasn't even suggested it. Ennis knows that his lover knows better than to ask … but just in case … he'll try this. Something novel for Jack. So Jack won't even think of asking for something that Ennis would have to deny him.

Ennis hates the look on Jack's face, hates himself whenever he says no to Jack, because he never seems to have a good enough reason.

On that second night in the tent, Jack made Ennis look at his naked body, made him look right at his manhood. Ennis hadn't noticed that Jack was circumcised, but since then, Jack has told him a horrid story about his dad never coming to terms with the fact that his son looked different than he did.

Ennis eyes the brown ring of scarring around Jack's penis. Poor Jack, he thinks, someone fuckin' around down there with a knife like that! Why would they do that? An' here I thought I was causin' him pain just by fuckin' him that one time!

When he had first seen Jack naked, Ennis' eyes had shyly followed the dark swirls of hair from Jack's chest down, and now he allows his virgin mouth to do the same as he holds tightly on to Jack's ass.

Ennis' moves are tentative. I know I can do this, I know I can. But what if I get sick? No, god, please, can't do that. Jack would feel awful. I can learn how ta do this, I sure can.

Here goes. I'm goin' ta do it!

Ennis cannot quite reconcile this reality with what awaits him at the bottom of the mountain, at the end of the summer. He wonders every now and then, how the hell has it come to this? What has this man done to me?

On his knees now, he gazes up at Jack, who has closed his eyes in anticipation of the wonders of Ennis' mouth, of his tongue. His hands grabbing on to Jack's butt, Ennis nuzzles his face in Jack's groin. He thought he would never do this, but how he adores this man!

Thank god it ain't no bull dick, he thinks, but damn, it sure looks big enough close up like this, don't it?

Okay, here goes. When Ennis sets his mind to it, he never does anything halfheartedly.

Ennis inhales the smell of Jack's hair and skin, his day of labor on horseback, as he goes to work. He tastes the salty traces of piss, Jack's readiness.

A month before, and he would have killed with his bare hands any man who had told him that his mouth would be where it was right now.

Damn, Jack thinks, opening his eyes to look down at Ennis, that mouth a his is nice an' warm, ain't it? The way he's doin' that, man, wouldn't never know he ain't done this before!

Jack has never felt anything quite like this. The power, it feels like power anyway, watching another man do this, watching Ennis Del Mar—a real man if ever there was one—put his mouth there.

Ennis has fretted about their balance of power. He wonders who's in charge here? Jack's goin' ta be lookin' down on me, ain't he? Ain't he? Like I do ta him? Only he's goin' ta think that ol' Ennis there looks mighty funny like this, ain't he? When he does Ennis, Jack seems to be subservient, but they both know he's not. Now, as Ennis does Jack, it appears that Ennis is subservient. And damn it all, he is, isn't he? How can this be?

Jack realizes, that damned Ennis is thinkin' again, ain't he? Why can't that boy just let loose for once? Got ta make sure he don't feel like he's … like he's doin' somethin' dirty. He thinks that when I'm goin' at him, don't he? Ennis, goddamnit, can't never be anythin' just happenin', can it?

Even so, Jack thinks this about Ennis: I love that son of a bitch. Ain't known him but a month and I love him. But like "love" love? Like that romantic kind a love? Shit, I don't know. That don't seem right, does it? Anyways, no use in sayin' it right now, seein' his mouth is full an' he can't say nothin' back.

As Ennis makes his smooth, light strokes, he comforts himself by thinking, well, at least no one would suspect, 'cause can't be nobody else does this, that's for sure!

Unlike Ennis, Jack has had girls at one time or another, but they hadn't been virgins. Them bitches sure as hell wasn't as tight as this, he thinks. Man, this guy is like some kind a goddamned vacuum cleaner. Good for you, Ennis, ya already figured out how ta keep your teeth out a the way too. You're a natural at this, ya ol' son of a bitch!

Ennis' oral efforts are sending Jack to a place he hasn't been, and he throws his head back, breathes deeply. He recalls the serious combination of pain and ecstasy, his spontaneous orgasm when Ennis took him that first time. But he never expected this kind of physical reaction just from having Ennis do this to him. He has thought that Ennis always overreacts. Just because he's Ennis.

But no, what's goin' on down there is real, Jack thinks. Goddamn!

He moans as he thrusts himself as far as he can into Ennis' face.

"Ennis," he groans. "Oh, yeah. Oh, that's great."

He finds he can't control himself, can't stop. He places his hands on Ennis' hair, feels the sweat there as his lover's head goes back and forth.

Jack gyrates, all of a sudden yelps, "Jesus christ, Ennis, oh fuck!" and comes mightily in Ennis' mouth. Just like that.

Ennis feels, smells, tastes Jack's semen. It is creamy, viscous, thick enough to choke a horse, Ennis thinks as he tries not to gag. He will learn soon enough to relax his throat muscles during these encounters. Nonetheless, he notes a faint sweetness, nothing offensive at all, doesn't pull away from Jack.

But what's this? Jack wonders. Oh fuck … I ain't never felt nothin' like this!

The closest he can think of is when Ennis hit his joy spot that first time in the tent. He had come without touching himself, had no control over his own body, no control whatsoever.

It's the same thing now, and in his blissful confusion Jack thinks, jesus christ, I'm gonna come again!

A second surge, another orgasm! It's almost there, Jack realizes. Shit, Ennis ain't expectin' this, he ain't even swallowed that first load. Can't make him take more without him bein' ready!

Jack is wild-eyed, breathing rapidly, panics, wants to warn Ennis but is so surprised by this new feeling, is in so much ecstasy he can't even get beyond a pained "Oh, fuck …" He knows he has to pull away, takes a step back as he splatters Ennis' nose and mouth.

Jack likes the occasional surprise, when he thinks he can get away with it. But only when he has control over the results and has a pretty good idea how Ennis is going to react. But Ennis ain't goin' ta like this one fuckin' bit, is he? Jack thinks. Man, how degradin', shootin' all over his face like that. He ain't goin' ta believe I couldn't help it. But damn, it was his mouth did it, wasn't it!

Ennis is stunned, kneeling there drenched like this, looks at Jack's groin with wide eyes. What the fuck? I made Jack shoot off again? Fuck!

Pleasing Jack—that is always Ennis' goal when they make love, and he is terribly aroused by this. He instantly realizes that this time he has surprised Jack. Damn!

He doesn't worry about who's in charge or not in charge. Doesn't care about the mess on his face.

Ennis pulls Jack toward him, presses tightly into the other man's groin. At first, Ennis thinks he might smother, but at the same time he is excited by the warm, sticky embrace. He grabs tightly on to Jack's butt again, breathes in deeply the primal musk of this man he loves so much.

A hint of a smile catches a corner of his mouth, as usual only a hint. He thinks, "I got ya this time, Jack, I got ya good, didn't I?"

Doubletime

Jack and Ennis double their fun

Worn out from rolling around in the dirt once again, Jack and Ennis lounge naked in the sun, asleep on their sides facing each other. They both sleep with erections—they're nineteen years old, after all, and their discovery of one another this summer has given each boy plenty to dream about. This time they didn't fall asleep in each other's arms, though, and Jack awakens to find that lo and behold, his face is almost in Ennis' crotch. Well, ain't that a fine sight, he thinks, as Ennis' manhood beckons him.

Jack thinks with a mischievous smile, why don't I surprise the son of a bitch? If I shift up a little more toward his face, I can just slip my mouth right over this ol' dick here. Won't he fuckin' be surprised! Ain't never done him while he's sleepin'! Jack himself is mightily aroused at the thought of his lover waking up to such a fantastic sensation—being pleasured by Jack's luscious mouth.

Jack eyes his target. Oh, that's so nice an' hard … Ennis is havin' one hell of a dream, ain't he? Must be I'm in it! Better be I'm in it! How about we just make that dream come true here? Jack quickly puts his mouth to work.

Ennis tastes faintly of sun and horse and sweat and piss and the dirt they were just rolling around in. Um, this tastes good, Jack thinks about the earthy, musky flavor. Goin' ta have one hell of a wet dream, ain't he? Lucky son of a bitch! But hell, he's got ta be wakin' up by now.

Indeed, Ennis has already been awake for a minute, thinks, damn, that was one fuckin' dream, thought I was really goin' ta shoot off there. Hey, what the … ah, I should a known, that damn Jack Twist, at it again! Always full a surprises, ain't he? Boy just can't keep that mouth ta himself … and thank the lord for that. Got ta say, he got that mouth, man, got a mind a its own, seems ta know all the things it ought ta do an' more.

Should I pretend ta sleep or let him know I'm awake? Don't want ta make him stop what he's doin' down there. But what the hell, son of a bitch is always tellin' me I don't know how ta have fun. Well look at that, his own goddamn dick's right here, like a piece a wood right in my fuckin' face. Let's teach him a lesson. How 'bout we see what happens if I work him over a little bit, too.

Jack feels something warm and wet at the other end. Hey, what the fuck! What the hell's goin' on up there? He's not.…? Oh, not Ennis!

Without breaking rhythm, out of the corner of his eye, Jack looks toward Ennis' face to see his lover enthusiastically going at it.

Well, son of a bitch! Wait a minute—can't be both a us doin' this at the same time! How am I supposed ta keep my mind on this down here if that screwball's jawin' on me up there?

Oooh. But damn that feels good.

Indeed.

Jack reconsiders. Well, hell, if Ennis can keep track a two things at once, guess I can too, huh? After all, he thinks I know all this surprisin' shit already. Don't know why, he knows I ain't queer—well, I ain't, am I? Ain't done none a this stuff any more 'n him! Just got more imagination, maybe, an' ain't nothin' wrong with that.

Damn that feels good. Ennis, man, glad ya took ta suckin' last week. Yeah, keep it tight an' wet. Can't believe I let ya hold out that long.

Good ol' Ennis, little surprises here an' there. Kind a funny not watchin' him do it like this, but I sure ain't goin' ta complain if he got some idea in his head.

The intensity of their unspoken arrangement increases rapidly as the two men arrive at a comfortable rhythm.

Jack takes Ennis' deep while Ennis pulls up. Back and forth, back and forth, a warm mouth, wet tongue for each.

The boys are surprised at how sensual it is to do and be done at the same time, not at all distracting, in fact.

Already Jack worries about the summer ending. Even having Ennis around day in and day out, Jack feels there just is not enough time for all the bonding, exploring, lovemaking they must do. Jack wonders, is he really going to marry that girl? It is all very abstract to him, that he and Ennis will leave Brokeback Mountain after all this—after all this!—and become different men. That Ennis will settle into some sort of prearranged domestic imprisonment while he himself heads off into an uncertain future on the rodeo circuit. He hasn't given much thought to the particulars, but he dreams that somehow he and Ennis could just stay up here together on the mountain, or maybe take the idyll with them to who knows where. It's a good thing he doesn't know that Aguirre will cut his and Ennis' time together by yet another month!

Ennis, on the other hand, soaks up Jack's love one day at a time. Every day is a new adventure for him, all these different ways of making love! First he takes Jack in a frenzy without even knowing what he's doing. Then the very next night Jack invites him into the tent, and he learns how to kiss, how to touch another person, how to touch another man. Jack shocks the hell out of Ennis when he goes down on him that very same night. Ennis grows fond of that, but he fears the day when he must return the favor. But he does, with great trepidation … and finds that he loves it, loves pleasing Jack like that. Ennis swears up and down to himself that he will never, ever let Jack fuck him, though, and he does stick to his guns on that. He draws the line at letting another man dominate him like that, threatening his manhood. It is unthinkable. But all those other discoveries!

He has never known passion, or even friendship, like this, and he doesn't want this summer to end, either. But in his mind, he cannot escape circumstances. The life he is destined to lead awaits him at the bottom of the mountain, and it promises to be far from idyllic, taking him very far away indeed from Brokeback Mountain.

Ennis pushes farther into Jack's beautiful mouth, and Jack takes it all.

Ennis reaches around and grabs on to Jack's firm, smooth butt, kneads the flesh with his strong hands.

Each man thrusts his hips toward his partner. They are about to have orgasms together for the first time. For the first time there will be no cussing a blue streak, not out loud anyway. They reach the point of no return together, each wondering how powerful the other man's release will be, each wondering how glorious his own ecstasy will be.

Both of their bodies stiffen, and they frantically trade their seed.

"Oh my god!" Jack thinks. "Jesus christ!" Ennis thinks. Each man stays in place, anxious not to lose a single drop from this unexpected, mindfucking coupling on a sunny afternoon. Their mouths are too busy to say anything, but Jack wonders, this is kind a convenient, ain't it, probably saves time, don't it, both a us doin' it at once like this? Maybe there really is enough time after all? Just maybe?

Initiation

An uncertain Ennis learns the joys of submission

Jack hovers over Ennis, whose eyes are closed, like he's watching someone dreaming. He catches every hint of pleasure, every hint of pain, every twitch on Ennis' face, every lick of the lips.

"Look at me, Ennis," Jack says. He so wants to look into Ennis' eyes, as though his clear blue eyes can penetrate his lover to his soul, while he does the same with his body. While he fills this man whom he loves so much.

Ennis opens his eyes, and Jack is so far away, this Jack who is fucking him. Yet he is right there.

Jack wanted this to be a romantic encounter, wanted so badly for Ennis to remember this initiation for all the right reasons. They didn't know how to talk about it as such, but they both knew how momentous it was for someone as guarded as Ennis to allow himself to be penetrated.

Jack had slowly stripped Ennis' clothing off from behind, enjoying the revelation of each bit of skin. It took some doing on Jack's part to get Ennis to appreciate this deliberate, sensual approach to something as routine as getting undressed, but Jack hoped that his being behind Ennis would get them used to the idea of him not being where he usually was—in front on his knees or beneath, with Ennis penetrating him.

Ennis lies there expectantly. He has an aching need deep within him, and he knows that only Jack can fill that void. Ennis has never felt so vulnerable, needing Jack. Even on that second night in the tent, when he had been so scared, when he had learned how to kiss Jack. Here he lies, ready to open himself to another person, to another man.

He is torn between his need and his notion of what—for him—it means to be a man. His father and the murdered queer lurk right below the surface.

A month ago he would have killed with his bare hands anyone who would have suggested that he would ever submit to another man in such a way!

Jack must do this facing Ennis, because they are lovers. Neither man has used that word, probably never will use that word. But unspoken though it may be, each knows on his own terms that it is love.

Jack imagines the joyful sensuality of kissing Ennis deeply while he enters him for the very first time. He does not want to fuck this man like a piece of livestock, regardless of the incredible release that resulted during their first sex in the tent. And he has nothing against admiring Ennis' broad back with its sprinkling of light freckles.

But he desires the mingling of so many sensations together: the earthy scent of Ennis, the taste of his mouth, the roughness of his stubble, the well-formed muscles in his chest, the welcoming warmth between his legs. He wants to possess as much of his lover as possible.

Jack expects to find an explosive inner heat. Yet Jack does not know the incredible power that awaits him. Ennis does, and he closes his eyes in anticipation.

Jack has hoped that one day he could take Ennis like this, but he also has known all along that it would take some planning on his part to actually get Ennis to agree. He knows damn well that despite the intense pleasure they give each other, Ennis has inner conflicts about what they are doing. That emotional distance is one of the things that Jack loves about Ennis, that drew him to the man in the first place. The rodeo rider likes a good challenge, doesn't he?

In preparation for this night, Jack had brought up some of the physical aspects of being penetrated. He described as best he could how he had learned to relax his rectal muscle whenever Ennis was about to enter him. He waxed enthusiastic about the prostate. He thought this might be the selling point for a tough customer like Ennis.

"Ennis, there's a place a joy inside your butt. Sure enough, didn't even know it was there, an' ain't never felt nothin' like it," he tells his lover.

Ennis looks skeptical.

"Ya hit it ever' time you're doin' me. Makes my shootin' so goddamn good!" Jack gets hard even as he says this, his recall is so vivid. Ennis smiles at what Jack's snug jeans reveal.

He is pleased to hear this, damned pleased that he's made Jack so happy after all. Well, he knows Jack hasn't been unhappy during their tumbles down the hill naked, groins locked together—foreplay for the satisfaction once they get to the bottom. As they wrestle boisterously or share loving caresses in the tent, hands and mouths all over each other, the campfire casting its flickering glow on their bare skin. As they arouse each other in the river, cold as the water can be. As they snuggle so tightly together every night.

But he frowns again with uncertainty, remembering only his sensations on that first night in the tent. Ennis feels a little selfish that he hasn't paid much attention to the quality of Jack's orgasms.

Jack thinks he might be getting somewhere. Ennis seems interested in what Jack experiences while submitting to Ennis. Jack assures Ennis that the first night, violent though it was, was as exciting for him as it was for Ennis.

"Ennis, I shot all over the place without touchin' myself at all!" Jack remembers, as excited as though it had happened just last night.

Ennis looks startled, raises his eyebrows. He has never heard of such a thing. Jack shows him the stain on the bedroll.

"Holy shit!" Ennis exclaims. "I didn't know … shit, I didn't know ya was doin' that!" He pauses. "An' ya ain't told me nothin' 'bout it till now?"

"Ennis, I told ya my goddamn gun was goin' off!" Jack has no idea how or why he remembers this fact, he had been in such painful ecstasy at the time.

But since then, Jack has said that often to Ennis when he hits the home stretch, and Ennis has grown fond of the phrase. But he had no clue that Jack had said it on that night, that Jack had even made a noise while Ennis ferociously pounded him.

"Ya know, Ennis," Jack says, "we been tryin' out all sorts a things, all this stuff that neither a us done before, bein' new at it an' all. Just kinda slipped my mind."

For Jack, the memory remains so exciting, so momentous for him, such a gift, that he hasn't wanted to share the particulars of it until the right time. Even with Ennis.

This seems to be the right time.

The thought of Jack losing control and coming all over the place is extremely exciting to Ennis, normally so repressed, so fearful of doing just that—losing control. It is so unthinkable. So very forbidden. His heart beats faster as he agrees that, yes, maybe tonight they can try something "different." That he is "sort of interested" in experiencing what he gives Jack when he works him over like that.

"Yeah, Jack, ya know. That sounds pretty good. That thing with your butt, well, that sounds pretty interestin', don't it? Just amazin' what goes on in your body sometimes, ain't it?" As though Jack would confirm that Ennis was making the right decision. "All this time, an' I just thought … well, ya know …."

Jack is so worried about hurting Ennis. He aches to be inside that man, and he wants this to work so much. He feels that one false move would spoil the whole thing. Not that Ennis has been reluctant about anything.

But tonight Ennis lies there like a first-timer. They are both terrified, Ennis of receiving pain, Jack of inflicting pain.

Ennis is grateful to see that Jack is endowed somewhat more modestly than he is. It's funny, he thinks, that he never knew that dicks came in different sizes. For one thing, he had never gone to a school that could afford to have a gym and showers.

But now he thinks it will make a big difference. This is going to be tough enough, painful enough, he is certain of that. But poor Jack! Oh my god, what Jack must have endured on that first night! Why does that thought excite Ennis at the same time? The thought of taking Jack so roughly, causing his lover pain?

After Jack's first time with Ennis, once he realized it was going to be a regular part of their sexual activities, he had come up with the idea of using the lard that had been rendered from that big old elk that Ennis had bagged. That slick-and-spit routine just wasn't going to work during their less violent endeavors.

Jack applies what he thinks is a generous amount of the grease and moves toward his target.

Ennis grimaces. Jack stops. Pain. Jesus christ, no! He must be causing Ennis so much pain. Well no, not yet. But he cannot bring himself to do that. Yet he knows the pleasure that awaits Ennis. He recalls his orgasm when Ennis took him like an animal just a month ago. How can he give that to Ennis without causing pain? Without hurting the man he loves?

Then again, why should he deny Ennis the pain?

He described the pleasure, but even though he told Ennis about the mechanics of it all, he forgot to mention the pain!

"Ennis, relax. Ya gotta relax your butthole," Jack suggests softly.

Ennis is not used to relaxing this muscle. It's not there to be relaxed, he thinks. At least not for something going in.

"Ya gotta relax back there so we can find that sweet spot, huh?"

Ennis agrees, but he is not sure he can do what Jack needs. Jack is starting to panic a bit. This is just what he had feared, that things would not go smoothly, that this would hurt Ennis.

Jack's initial experience had prepared him to take Ennis with minimal preparation. But with Ennis, well, this wasn't going to work quite the same way, was it?

Jack thinks a bit, reaches back for the pail of grease. Runs a finger through it. He once again tends to Ennis' butt, primes him with the slick finger.

Ennis squirms a bit to adjust to this penetration. Even though it is only a finger, Jack takes it very slowly. But Ennis' discomfort is modest, doesn't really register as pain at all. Jack wiggles his finger around inside, looking for that magic spot. He's not exactly sure where it is, but suddenly he presses on a tight, ribbed mound.

When Jack hits the pleasure spot, Ennis' eyes fly open. He emits a high-pitched "Oh!" Then in his usual deep voice, "Oh, jesus. Jesus!"

He doesn't know what can feel more pleasurable than this, but he soon will find out.

But having Jack inside him. Inside him. Inside Ennis Del Mar. The surge of need and intimacy that he feels brings tears to his eyes. Tears because he knows he can never understand what this is really all about. He supposes it is about love. Hell, he knows it's about love. But his life is laid out before him, and what is he supposed to do about this? That life doesn't include any of this, that's for sure!

This … this man who fills him every day, every night, with wonder, worry, lust.

Even so, Ennis finally relaxes enough for Jack to try again.

Supported on his muscular arms, Jack pushes very slowly, but deeply, until he is pressed as tightly as possible against Ennis.

He looks down into Ennis' shining eyes. It is there that Jack sees his newfound power, reflected back. The power to hurt this man beneath him, or to pleasure him, or both.

Jack leans into Ennis' face and kisses him. Lips meet, then his tongue penetrates Ennis' eager mouth, sliding and darting around, both men enjoying the multiple stimulations of the kissing and the fucking.

The kissing intensifies. Jack's guttural noises mingle with Ennis' increasingly loud moans as Jack moves in him. Ennis fingers stroke the soft layer of dark hair on Jack's chest. His moves become more forceful, more deliberate, as do Jack's.

Jack remains ever attentive to what Ennis' body is telling him. He takes care to stroke Ennis' joy spot gently but forcefully.

Does Ennis want this ever to end? He doesn't know.

He hears the crickets, the rustling pines, the rushing river. His mind wanders, and he is so confused, he is on the verge of crying. Is he ashamed? Yes, he probably is. It is one thing to take another man, but it is quite another thing to be taken, to relinquish what he understands to be the male prerogative.

Yet he loves what Jack is doing, he loves being taken. He loves being helpless for once, being vulnerable like a little boy, being at another man's mercy.

This is so wrong! How can this be?

Damn it, he is thinking too much again, isn't he? Back to the moment, Ennis tells himself. Back to the moment. Jack is trying so hard, and I love what he is doing. Christ how I love it!

Maybe Ennis can sort the issues out later, he doesn't know, and at last he doesn't care.

Right now, Jack's is moving faster and faster, and Ennis tends with greater force to the sweating chest above him, twisting nipples, tugging hair, digging into skin.

In minutes, Jack can no longer hold back. "Oh, fuck, Ennis, fuck!" Jack, sweat dripping, looks and sounds like he is in pain, he is so delirious.

He is still inside Ennis, still hitting that pleasure spot until Ennis can no longer stand it. Ennis writhes under him, panting, breathless, barely able to speak. "Oh, christ," Ennis moans. He is helpless and loving it.

He pleasures himself as Jack supports himself on his haunches so he can vigorously massage Ennis' chest, occasionally lower his mouth to nip at a nipple or continue their kissing.

Ennis has never done this while having his prostate stroked, and the sensation is incredible. He cannot control his moans, groans, his writhing.

He wants to keep Jack in him. Getting fucked is painful, but the reward is about to happen! Ennis wants this release to be free and far-ranging. He arches up off the bed and with a groan shoots all over himself and Jack.

The violence of his orgasm ejects Jack.

"Goddamn! Aw, jesus, Jack!" Ennis lies there in ecstasy. Was there pain? He doesn't know, and he doesn't care. "Oh, jesus christ, Jack …," he says, and trails off into a heaving sigh.

Neither man could have hoped for more from Ennis' rite of passage. Jack has finally taken Ennis, this enigmatic, inscrutable man. Taken him all the way. Filled him with his seed, his essence, filled that aching void.

And Ennis? He says simply, "Jack. Thank you, Jack." And he raises his head for another kiss. He knows this is only a beginning, a small step, but he is so grateful to this man who finally has made him lose control.

THE END