Date: Thu, 7 Sep 2006 19:14:38 -0700
From: qwb <qwb@san.rr.com>
Subject: Stonegate Stables, ch 16

From the previous chapter......

"Jesus Christ!"  Vincent chuckled when he had enough breath.
"Don't tell me - let me guess.  Engagement sex, right?"  I
snorted and we staggered into the shower.
That was the end of August.  He had the first nightmare
three days later.


Stonegate Stable

Chapter 16


     The first few were just bad dreams.  I'd wake up to the
sound of Vincent muttering to himself or whimpering a
little.  The touch of my hand running down his arm would
quiet him and he'd fall back into a sound sleep.

     One night I awoke to an empty bed and went quietly down
to find him curled into a chair in the library.  He was
staring out the window with one arm crossed up over his
chest holding onto his shoulder.  After watching him for a
few moments, I left him alone, going back to bed to lie
there sleepless until he came up a couple hours later,
backing into me and pulling my arms around him, then
pressing the knuckles of my hand to his mouth.  He was
breathing a little fast like you do when you're frightened.
I held him close and tried to will away the awful feeling
that we had a lot more to go through before we were over the
attack.

     He wasn't eating well either, and looked gaunt and
tired.  Wade called me one day after a business lunch at
Corleone's and asked me what the hell was wrong with
Vincent.  I just said he was having trouble sleeping but
nothing serious.  I guess I thought if I didn't acknowledge
that something more was wrong, it might go away.

     The next GP was September 9th in Ohio and we had a
pretty good time.  The change of scenery seemed to be good
for Vincent; he didn't have any bad dreams while we were
there.

    I did well, taking Donna to a 3rd, and managed to get
Calvin around cleanly for 2nd,  but people were on to me
now, and were watching Cal's rise in the points standings
with a wary eye.  They could see I was in good form; hungry
for another win, and it sharpened everyone up a little.

     The following two events were back to back in
California.  It was with an anxious and heavy heart that I
said goodbye to Vincent the second Thursday in September and
flew off to sunny So Cal without him.  Amanda had all sorts
of parties planned and wanted me to stay between events.
Vincent couldn't take that much time away from the
restaurants, so he planned to come out for the 2nd weekend,
and then we'd fly home together.

     Despite Vincent's absence, I was looking forward to
riding since I'd done so well at the first one.  Well, pride
goeth before a fall, and this GP was a disaster.  Donna took
down three fences in a row and I excused myself from the
ring, afraid there was something more wrong with her than
just feeling lazy.  Carlos looked her over thoroughly, and
other than a slightly elevated temperature, she seemed fine.

     Good old Calvin had a terrible day too, skittering
sideways between every jump, bucking a couple times, and
finally charging through a wispy vertical like he didn't
even see it.  One of the rails whipped around sideways when
he plowed through it, whacking me in the side.  The impact
knocked me forward, half out of the saddle, while we were
still in the air and the jolt of landing finished the job; I
somersaulted forward to land flat on my back beneath
Calvin's iron-shod feet.  Luckily, he missed stepping
directly on me, but one of his rear hooves clipped my hip as
he passed over me.

    I ended up with badly bruised ribs from the rail, the
breath knocked out of me by the fall, and a huge, painful
purple knot on my hip.  I walked off the course to standing
applause, but we couldn't continue, so we got a big fat DNF
for our efforts.  Two DNFs after winning the week before
really sucked and I was in a vile mood as the medics poked
and prodded me.

    They finally let me go and I limped back to our barn
area, grumpily assuring everyone that I would live.

    I called Vincent to let him know what happened before
someone else gave him the news, but after a few tries, I
couldn't reach him, which pissed me off even more.  Finally,
I left a curt message saying I'd fallen, but wasn't badly
hurt.  I thought that would get his attention.  I spent most
of the next day in bed.

     He didn't call me until late afternoon.  By then I was
angry, and so sore I could hardly get out of bed, but I was
up and dressing for a cocktail party that Amanda had
arranged.  I was bitchy to him until the concern in his
voice registered and I backed off a little.  He made me put
my right hand on the hotel bible and swear that I was all
right, which I did, knowing that if the situation were
reversed, I'd be frantic with worry.  He didn't offer any
explanation for where he'd been or what had taken him so
Goddamn long to call me back, so I wasn't much happier after
the call than I'd been before.

     I hung out with Adam that week, very tempted to console
myself with one of his better than average blow jobs, but
managed to keep it to the occasional make out session, one
of which had us both leaking through our trousers before yet
another party.  We changed and headed off arm in arm, got
shit faced, and ended the night in my bed where we slept
curled up together like puppies, both of us too drunk and
depressed to get in trouble.  He was missing Dylan and I
ached for Vincent, although I could have cheerfully
strangled him by now.  His daily calls were very
unsatisfying, which meant I was pretty fucking miserable to
be around that week.

     After a couple days, the worst of the pain was gone;
just my ribs hurt when I laughed or coughed, so I tried hard
not to do either.

     Saturday morning Vincent called me and was very
subdued.  After a little small talk, he told me that he
couldn't get free to come out after all.  I got a shiver of
goose bumps up my arms at the sound of his voice.  I knew
that it wasn't work that was preventing him from joining me.

When he was finished talking, I was silent, unable to hide
my disappointment.  He apologized, told me he'd call me
tomorrow night, and said goodbye as quickly as possible
without actually hanging up on me.  I just sat on the bed
and stared at the wall.  Every instinct I had told me to
jump on a plane and get home to him, but I couldn't possibly
walk out on Amanda with the GP less than 24 hours away.

    I got through the cocktail party that night, although
I'm sure everyone thought I was having a delayed reaction to
the fall.  I couldn't string three words together
coherently.  Adam came back to the room with me again,
getting me out of my party clothes and into bed.  He crawled
in with me and pulled me close, nuzzling my neck and rubbing
my chest softly, but I didn't sleep much.  Breakfast was
three cups of coffee and by the time I got out to the show
grounds, I was shaky and sick.  Amanda took one look at me
and sat me down in the tack room, force-feeding me a
sandwich from the catered luncheon in the clubhouse.  I
choked it down and felt better, but nothing was going to
cure me except Vincent's hard body in my arms.

     Carlos taped the shit out of my ribs and I took a
couple Naproxen, which took care of the stabbing pains and
left only the minor aches for me to contend with.

     The actual jumping went better than I expected, given
that I was only marginally with the program.  Donna was back
to her usual reliable self and came home 3rd.  Calvin must
have felt bad about last week because he was totally tuned
into me and took me around the course fast and clean in both
the GP and the jump-off.  There was only one place in the
jump-off course that I could cut a corner.  It was really
tight and I almost didn't bother, but Cal felt so good that
I took the chance, giving him only two strides with a sharp
angle to get over a wide oxer.  He leapt like a rabbit,
twisting in the air to make up for the weird approach, and
pounded between the finish cones in record time.  We wound
up winning the damn thing and Adam came in second.

     Amanda was overjoyed at another win and I was pretty
happy, too, when I wasn't thinking about whatever was the
matter at home.  I took it easy on the champagne this time,
having one glass with Amanda, Adam, and Carlos.  Then I
switched to water.  Vincent called that night, full of
congratulations, sweet talking me a little, and he almost
seemed like the man I loved again.

     The flight home Monday was smooth, and soon I was
pulling into our driveway.  Vincent's car was there and as I
opened the trunk of my Lexus to get my bag, he stepped out
onto the porch.

    I did a double take; his face was lined and gray like
he'd been sick for a month.  I just stood there by the back
of the car staring at him as he came to me.

     "Jesus, Vincent, what's wrong?"

    He gave a shrug.  "I can't sleep for shit when you're
not here.  I miss you too much."

     He stepped close and I wrapped my arms around him.  He
was naturally lean and he always felt a little bony, but he
seemed thinner to me now as I hugged him tight, wishing with
everything I had, that we could roll back time to the day he
was attacked.

    I'd have left work earlier that day, or called him to
come take me to dinner; anything to keep him out of the
house that evening, but I couldn't do that, so I
concentrated on comforting him because it made me feel
better too, and we both desperately needed some comforting
right now.

     He had one bad dream that week, but rolled over on his
own and went back to sleep.

     He cheered up a little with me home and we flew off to
Pennsylvania on October 12th in hopes of having a nice long
weekend away from our troubles.  We hooked up with Adam
Friday night after yet another party, and the three of us
ended up going to Adam's room.  Vincent wanted to be fucked;
I could tell by the way he rubbed his ass against me as we
were getting undressed, but that was something we'd done
only in private, so I wasn't sure how he wanted to play
this.

     Once we were naked, I dropped to my knees in front of
them, taking one cock in my mouth and the other in my hand.
Once I'd gotten them both slippery with my mouth, I could
stroke one while blowing the other.  Going back and forth
was interesting.  Vincent is about eight inches hard and
pretty thick; Adam is an inch or so smaller in both
directions, so my mouth had to make adjustments each time I
switched.  I must have gotten it right because soon Vincent
was pumping into me and moaning.  Adam finally dragged me up
by the ears and pulled me back onto the bed with him,
rolling so that I landed on the bottom.  He turned around
and planted his ass over my face while Vincent straddled my
legs, sucking my dick up in one big slurp.  I licked Adam's
balls and worked my tongue into his hole while he helpfully
held my dick upright for Vincent to suck.

     Before long, Vincent had me rigidly hard and I felt him
move into position over my cock.  I had my hands full of
Adam, moaning into his ass while I slid slowly into Vincent.
He was on his feet, knees bent in a deep squat, holding onto
Adam's shoulders as he lowered himself.  In all our years
together, we'd never done it this way and I was amazed at
how different it felt.  Adam moved back on me a little,
bending over to take Vincent's cock in his mouth and aiming
his at me.

    All our dicks were happy with this arrangement and we
gradually built up to three first class orgasms.  Adam
lifted out of my mouth and came on my chest, then Vincent
shot onto my belly, and finally I pushed Vincent off and
blasted my load into the middle of it all.  I was covered in
enough sperm to re-populate Texas.  Satiated, we hopped in
the shower, and climbed back into bed.  I made sure I was in
the middle so that if Vincent had a bad dream, I could sooth
him out of it before Adam woke up.

     I hadn't talked to anyone about our problems yet and I
was sure Vincent hadn't.  I was still foolishly hoping
things would smooth out on their own.

     Sunday was clear and sunny with a huge noisy crowd in
the stands.  I packed Cal's ears so full of cotton that he
probably wouldn't be able to hear me either, but I didn't
want him distracted by all those people.  Calvin went before
Donna this time and he gave me a good ride, making it into
the jump-off.  Donna got four faults when she took down the
top brick on a solid vertical.  Aside from Calvin, only
Adam's horse went clean, so Cal was assured of at least 2nd.
The jump-off course had two places to shave off time, but
they were pretty obvious and Adam took advantage of both of
them, coming in with a really quick time.  Calvin and I gave
it hell, but Adam was a couple ticks of the clock quicker
and we ended up taking 2nd with Donna 4th.

    With two events left, the points race was heating up.
Adam was leading with me in 2nd on Calvin and, on Donna, a
respectable 4th.  I still had a mathematical chance of
winning the whole thing, but Adam had a good horse this year
and he was a strong rider, so I'd have to be lucky as well
as good to beat him.  The three of us flew home together,
snuggling up on Amanda's little jet to nap off the late
night we spent celebrating with her, Adam's owner, and all
their rich, crazy pals.

    Life was fairly normal after we got back, but Vincent
continued to sleep restlessly.

     One moonlit night he was more agitated than usual and I
lay there listening to him moan and mutter before propping
myself up on an elbow to reach for him.  He came up
swinging, the knuckles of his right hand catching me in the
mouth, splitting my bottom lip open and spraying blood
across the sheets.  A second later, his left fist crashed
into the side of my face and I saw stars.



     I rolled away from him and off the bed, scooting
backward on my butt, holding one hand to my gushing lip.  He
awoke with a start and looked down at me.  He knelt there
for a moment, breathing harshly, then crawled off the bed
and came toward me with an outstretched hand.

    God forgive me, I flinched away from him.  I knew he
hadn't hit me on purpose, but I was shaking with reaction
and I just did it without thinking.  He moaned then, the low
awful sound of a wounded animal, and ran from the room.

     I grabbed the box of tissues off the bedside table and
mopped up my face a little, waiting 'til I quit shaking so
badly and could think.  Finally, I walked carefully
downstairs to the kitchen, not looking for him, not seeing
him anywhere.  I put some ice in a baggie, wrapped a towel
around it and slumped into a chair, holding it to my
throbbing face.

     I don't know how long I sat there, but the sky was
beginning to lighten when I turned to see him watching me
from the doorway to the hall.  The misery on his face hurt
me worse than his fists had; I laid the ice on the table and
crossed the room into his open arms.  He folded me gently to
him, one hand on the back of my neck, and rocked me silently
as the kitchen brightened into a new day.

     He walked us to the patio doors and took a careful look
at my face in the light, something I hadn't done yet.  His
jaw muscles clenched tightly, but that was his only
reaction.  He led me to the den and we lay on the couch for
a long time, curled together but not talking.  I was scared
to death by what was happening to us.  The psychiatrist we'd
spoken to a few times had felt that Vincent would not have
any lasting emotional issues, but it seemed as though he was
wrong.

     I got through the day, but barely.  I went to work and
spent most of the time in my office staring at the wall,
wondering what the hell to do.  My only real hope was the
shrink, but I didn't have a whole lot of faith in him at
this point.  When I walked in the back door that evening,
Vincent was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me.

     "Sean, I need to talk to you."

    Is there a sentence spoken between lovers more laden
with foreboding than that one?  One that makes your stomach
flip over backward and brings a clammy sweat to your palms?
It's never good, and tonight was no exception.  He stood up
and came to me, holding me by the shoulders, looking into my
face with haunted eyes.

     "I need to leave for a while.  I have to get this
behind me and I think maybe I can find him."  He hugged me
tight.

     I started to shake and the knot that had been in my
stomach for weeks clenched its fist tightly.

     "Nooo," I moaned.  "Don't go.  Not now."  I pulled back
and looked at him, begging him with my eyes not to do this
to us.  "Don't leave me.  Please."

     He dropped his head, staring at my chest for a long
moment, and then slowly raised his face to mine.

    "I have to.  I'm not gonna take the chance of hurting
you again."

     "You're hurting me now."  He looked away.  It was a
cruel thing to say, but I was falling apart inside, willing
to try anything to keep him with me.

     "I'll call you every night."  He paused, steadying his
voice.  "I love you and I'll be back.  I promise you, I'll
be back, Sean."

     He pushed me gently away and I followed him to the
front hall where he had a bag packed and waiting.  He kissed
me gently and walked out the door, pulling it quietly shut
behind him.  I pressed my forehead to the hard wood, leaning
on my spread hands and listened to the sound of Vincent's
car fade away.

     Then I walked carefully upstairs, buried my face in his
shirt from yesterday, and curled up on his side of the bed,
too numb to cry.

     After an hour I got up long enough to call Jesse, then
went back to bed and lay there wide awake all night, staring
into the dark, empty corners of the room, which matched the
feelings in my heart.