Pistol pulled up along the drive, his truck rattling bones that he wouldn't even have known he had five years ago. Hell, some of them he'd just discovered when his ass hit the dirt two weeks ago. He'd had his shoulder operated on, and had spent a couple of days recuperating before making the trip home.
Too bad he wasn't a hundred percent sure Bender would open the door for him.
He pulled up next to the barn, killed the engine, and stared. It had been eight weeks this time, eight long weeks with only three days home before that.
The back door to the house banged open, the hounds bounding out toward him, and behind them was the most beautiful son of a bitch he knew. Long and lean, whipcord strength contained in every step. Bender didn't come running like the dogs did, but he did come.
Pistol watched Bender walk toward him, his eyes burning in his skull. God, he was fucking tired, bone deep tired, just aching with it.
The dogs were at his door now, jumping up and barking, trying to get to him.
He opened the door, pushed it open and stood, trying to keep them from the arm still in the sling. "Hey y'all, you happy to see me?"
"You should have called and let me know." Bender waited for the dogs to have their hello, blue eyes on him like twin laser beams.
"I didn't want you worrying. Jack needed his guest room back." He'd been imposing. Not to mention, the man's mother-in-law had come to help with the last few days of Mary Ellen's pregnancy, and he'd wanted to come home. Bender told the dogs to "scatter," and they did.
Before Pistol could say anything Bender was on him, mouth covering his in a kiss that smashed his lips against his teeth and totally stole his breath.
Oh. Oh, thank God. He pushed up into the kiss, damn near sobbing with relief.
Bender grabbed the collar of his shirt, shifting him and slamming him up against his truck. All those long, lean muscles pressed up against him. He wrapped his good arm around his lover, his legs, clinging like a fucking leech.
Bender got both hands around his ass and hitched him higher, rubbing hard. There were no words, just hard, needy kisses and harder cocks bumping through denim.
Finally, he managed to find breath and brain enough to mutter, "Missed you. Need. Fuck."
"Shut up and kiss me."