Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

badgering, his father injured and on the warpath, the possibility that whatever was happening on the ranch was just starting instead of ending . . .
    And on top of all of that, Zane couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to be able to bring Ty here and introduce him to his family as the love of his life.
    Before he knew what he was doing, he’d clicked back over to his favorite numbers, hit Ty’s picture, and pressed the call button.
    It took a few rings, but Ty answered with a hoarse, “What?”
    Zane smiled and closed his eyes again, breathing out a sigh of relief. He could just imagine Ty stretched out in their bed, sheets tangled around his muscular body. He’d be warm and pliant, his fingers gentle against Zane’s skin as he reached out to him. He’d smell faintly of Old Spice, and his hair, which had grown, would be just long enough for Zane to twirl around his fingers and hold onto as they kissed.
    “Hey,” Zane whispered, voice choked on the sudden rush of sentiment and arousal.
    “Zane? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Is it your dad?”
    “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, I just miss you.”
    Ty was silent, and Zane could hear his harsh breaths as he sat up in bed. “What happened?”
    “Nothing, I just . . . I’m lying here in this huge bed and I can’t sleep.”
    Ty sighed. “I miss you too, Zane.”
    “I’m sorry I woke you.”
    “It’s okay. Today was a slow day, it’s fine.”
    Zane narrowed his eyes. “I know your definition of a slow day, and I got Clancy’s picture.”
    “Yeah, well . . .”
    Zane heard a harsh breath and a shuffle of sheets. He suspected Ty had just stretched back out in bed, and the mental image of his lover was enough to slide his hand beneath the band of his boxers. His palm rested on his hip, fingers grazing his hardening cock.
    “Are you as miserable and lonely as I am?” Ty asked, sounding pitiful.
    Zane swallowed hard and looked around the bedroom of the guesthouse. He’d been living here for a full week now. The king-sized bed was far too big, the room too empty and impersonal. The television offered no company, the art and trinkets held no memories for him. Even the view out the window had grown unfamiliar.
    “Yes,” he said, almost choking on the word.
    “Zane,” Ty whispered, pulling Zane back. “I know what you’re doing.”
    Zane found himself smiling at Ty’s raspy voice, taking himself in hand to start a slow stroke. “What am I doing?”
    “Same thing I am.”
    Zane’s breath caught on an exhale. “Ty.”
    “Go on, Zane. Close your eyes.”
    Zane hit his phone’s speaker button, laid it beside his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes like Ty had asked. His hand squeezed and pulled, his actions slow and sensual, mimicking the way Ty touched him when they were fooling around. His other hand dragged across his abdomen, fingers sliding over ridges of hard muscle.
    With Ty’s rasping voice in his ear, Zane could imagine it. His fingers dragging over Ty’s body, finding the occasional ridge of a scar, digging into those incredible muscles as they tensed. He could imagine Ty’s hand wrapped around his cock, thumb sliding over the head, palm massaging his balls. He could picture himself under Ty, his hand between them, stroking Ty’s cock as Ty ground against him.
    Zane gasped and rolled his hips, stroking faster as Ty’s seductive voice whispered to him from the pillow beside his head.
    “I’d give anything to see you do that,” Ty said, voice hitching. “Come for me, Zane. I need to hear it.”
    Zane knew from the timbre of Ty’s voice that he was touching himself as he lay alone in their bed. It was enough to make Zane’s entire body tingle. He could picture it because Ty had done it for him several times, brought himself off as Zane watched.
    He shoved the comforter and the sheets down past his hips and his boxers followed. The cold air of the room hit his skin, but he didn’t care as he kicked free of everything restraining his movements.
    “Baby,” he ground out, pleading with Ty to keep speaking. Ty did, murmuring to him, telling him how to touch himself, what he would do to him if he were there with him, how much he loved to hear the sounds Zane made. Zane didn’t try to curtail his moans and groans, letting Ty hear them, letting Ty use them to reach his own end.
    “You sound so good,” Ty whispered, voice deep and harsh.
    The rasp of his voice covered Zane, wrapping him in warmth and pleasure. Zane pushed