Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

drive, with a twisted metal art piece weaving between them. A sign hung from the metal, a stylized C and G intertwined with an ampersand. A simple iron gate between the towers kept visitors out.
    “I’ll call and have one of the guys go fetch it,” Zane promised.
    “Why do you keep the gate closed? Is it to keep livestock in or people out?”
    “The ranch is open three days a week to the public. We have school trips and tour buses and people can book times for riding the trails or getting riding lessons. Supplemental income for the ranch.”
    “Really? People just drive up at any given time?”
    Zane shrugged. “Thursday through Saturday, yeah. So the other days they keep the gate closed, just in case people get the wrong day or get nosy.”
    Ty cleared his throat, barely able to concentrate on what Zane was saying for listening to how he was saying it. Jesus, where had that accent been all these months? He wondered if Zane suppressed it or if it was just something he’d lost along the way and then had fallen back into when he’d submerged himself back home.
    He waved his broken hand toward the side of the road. “Can you pull over for a minute?”
    Zane shot him a concerned glance and pulled the truck to the side of the gravel driveway, putting it in park.
    Ty unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled toward him. The only thing preventing him from climbing right into Zane’s lap was the steering wheel. Zane grabbed at him, laughing as they kissed again, over and over. Ty unbuckled Zane’s seatbelt, pulling at him and leaning backward, and Zane wriggled out of the seatbelt and followed, laying Ty down on the bench seat. Ty propped his foot on the door and held on as Zane dug his hands into Ty’s hair.
    “Christ, why’d you have to start this?” Zane grumbled. Ty could feel his body responding, and his jeans were going to be impossible to unzip in a few minutes if this kept up. “We’re five fucking seconds from the house.”
    “I missed you.” Zane felt solid against his fingers, and after a week of closing his eyes and imagining it was Zane’s touch in place of his own, Zane’s weight felt incredible against him.
    “I’m not going to fuck you here,” Zane said through gritted teeth, though he appeared to be trying to convince himself and not Ty.
    Ty shook his head and hummed, but he pushed his hips up against Zane’s and closed his eyes as sensation swept through him. “Does anyone else stay at this guesthouse?” he asked, voice going lower.
    “No,” Zane growled. He bent to kiss Ty’s chin, and then kissed and nipped along his jawline until he reached Ty’s neck and began to suck. “We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”
    Ty groaned, squirming under him. “Are there washing machines at this guesthouse?”
    “Yeah, why?” Zane whispered against Ty’s ear.
    Ty answered by delving into a messy, hungry kiss. He thrust up against Zane, rubbing their cocks together through the thick denim of their jeans.
    “Jesus, Ty,” Zane ground out. He shoved his hand under Ty, dragging his fingers against Ty’s shoulder blades as he pushed their hips together. Ty gasped, thrust back, desire flowing between them in a feedback loop of desperate need.
    Zane lapped at his lips, forcing his way in to lick and suck at Ty’s as the kisses got messier and harder. They didn’t even bother trying to unbutton their jeans, just rutted against each other. Ty rolled his hips to increase the friction. They were like teenagers necking, stealing a moment that couldn’t be put off one second longer.
    Zane shouted his name, clamping down on him so hard that Ty bowed his back to keep from being hurt. When he realized Zane was coming against him, he let go of the last vestiges of his pride and self-control as well, clutching at Zane and gritting his teeth against a moan as he came in his jeans.

    It was a good mile before they hit a curve around a copse of trees that brought a group of buildings into view. Ty had seen the turn-off when he’d walked up the driveway, but he hadn’t paid it much attention at the time.
    Zane stopped in front of the house, though he didn’t cut the engine. “This is the guesthouse.”
    Ty nodded and looked around. There was a garage made to look like a barn, and a storage shed built like a carriage house. The house itself was a cabin, the bucolic façade broken only by solar panels on the roof and a satellite bolted to the side. Ty glanced over at Zane, unsure of what to say