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It is no secret that Ruston Vance is a stereotype. Be it nature or nurture, Rust is simply himself. He doesn’t know any other way to be. His parents didn’t raise him to lie, and he’s seen no real reason to start. He may not be the most open book, keeping certain facts about himself close to the chest, but he’s never had a reason to be embarrassed by who he is.
He’s tough. Capable. Can muck out a stall in record time and shovel a snowy driveway even quicker. He does his own laundry, makes a mean venison stew, and passes all his classes with a respectable B average. He’s queer, though he hasn’t bothered to figure out much more beyond that, and still knows a plethora of bible verses by heart.
Which brings him to now—coming home from church in his Sunday best to find Cole waiting up in his bedroom, reading a well-worn copy of Swordspoint. It’s not half as surprising as it should be. They see each other damn near every day of the week, though usually not so soon after service. He’s sprawled out on Rust’s bed, wearing Rust’s hoodie, reading Rust’s book.
Rust tips his head back and mouths a small prayer up to the ceiling before shutting his bedroom door behind him. “You’re lucky my parents decided to stop by the diner.”
Cole doesn’t immediately look away from the book, reading for a few beats longer before dog-earing a page. He sits up on his elbows and tosses a crooked grin Rust’s way. “How long ‘til they're back, do you think?”
“Not nearly long enough for everything I wanna do to you,” Ruston admits. He tugs at the knot of his tie until Cole clears his throat. Ruston raises an eyebrow.
Cole shakes his head minutely, his grin softening to something more shy. “I never get to see you all cleaned up like this.” He pushes himself up right and holds out a hand, one Ruston is hapless to resist.
He crosses the short length of his bedroom and takes Cole’s hand, stands obediently as his boyfriend’s eyes rake over him eagerly. “You could always come to service with me,” Rust tells him before biting his tongue hard enough to hurt. The topic is a tender one, a sore spot like a bruise that just won’t heal.
Cole’s face is as expressive as ever, telegraphing his discomfort. He opens his mouth but Rust shushes him.
“Forget I said anything,” Rust tells him earnestly. He cups Cole’s cheek with one hand then bends to kiss him. A quick, gentle press before he murmurs,“We don’t have to talk about that right now.”
He kisses any protest or question right from Cole’s lips. Cole presses in, swinging his legs over the edge of Rust’s bed; his hands go straight to Rust’s hair and he takes it as an order, kneeling between Cole’s legs and pulling them closer. Their height difference works in their favor here, pressing them together from lips to hips. Cole’s hands tighten in his hair but otherwise he melts under Rust, always has. Cole arches into him, pants for him, gives it all over to him so easily.
Overwhelmed, Rust has to break the kiss to breathe. That doesn’t stop Cole from pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his stubbled jaw, down his neck, his tongue dipping inside the collar of his dress shirt. “This would be easier if you let me take off the tie, y’know.”
“No,” Cole says matter of factly; Rust can hear the smirk before he ever spots it on Cole’s face.
“What do you want me to do, then?” Rust asks, shivering when Cole’s hands slide from his hair. Cole peels Rust’s hoodie off and drops it over the edge of the bed; Rust would mourn the loss if Cole wasn’t wearing a worn-thin shirt that practically leaves his chest on display. Rust grits out, “I told you before, it’s gonna take a couple beers to get me to strip for you again.”
Cole laughs against his mouth as he tugs him in for another kiss. This one is slower, softer, but burns just as hot. Cole arches against him and Rust lets out a grunt; he never knew his church slacks left so little to the imagination, the fabric silky and thin. Rust pulls at Cole’s leg until he hitches it around Rust’s hip, pulling them closer still.
“Don’t make me ruin these pants, Cole, I can’t have my mom askin’ questions.” Rust holds Cole by the hips to still his writhing, taking a deep breath to steady himself and keep himself in check too. “You figure out what you want yet?”
“Just you,” Cole says, breathless in a familiar way, “always you, Rusty, you know that.” His hands slow around Rust’s tie. His smirk twists. Thoughtful, more reserved, the kind of expression he wears when he’s gearing up for another public speaking appearance. He smoothes his hands over Rust’s chest and swallows noisily.
“Spit it out, Cole,” Rust says, not unkind, “you can always talk to me.”
“Does it bother you that I don’t go with you?” Cole asks quietly. His gaze drops and Rust frowns.
“Not really,” Rust tells him. “I’d like it if you went, because I’d like to share that with you. I want to share everything with you.”
Cole still doesn’t look at him, but his cheeks pink prettily.
“I know my parents would like it if you attended. They’d take us out for breakfast after, probably.” Rust shrugs. “They don’t expect you to convert or go every week or anything like that. It’s just a family thing. A way to get closer to each other, not just closer to God.”
Rust watches Cole squirm, notes all the way it’s different from his writhing moments ago. They’re both still chubbed up, hot enough that sweat sticks to Rust’s shirt, but the urgency has faded. He and Cole are both still learning to communicate better, and part of Rust’s role is giving Cole the room he needs to sort himself out.
Eventually, Cole stops chewing his lower lip long enough to answer. “How do you do it?”
Rust frowns. “What, service? You mostly just go and sit and,” he drops his voice lower, “don’t tell Father this, but a lot of it is spent trying not to doze off.”
Cole lets out a surprised laugh. “What?”
“It’s always too warm in there, and the sermon is pretty soothing most of the time. Last time my dad caught me dozing he had me untangle all the Christmas lights two months early.” Rust laughs with Cole this time. He steals a kiss too, sweet and chaste, before continuing. “If it’s not a boring day, then it could be emotional, or inspiring, or any combination like that.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Cole says but stops.
Rust doesn’t rush him. He slips his thumb under Cole’s graphic tee and brushes their noses together. All movements to ground them both, keep them stable as Cole navigates whatever he needs to. Rust’s knees are starting to ache, pressed into the hardwood floor like this, but he’d rather die than move away from Cole right now.
“How do you go to church and then…” He gestures between them almost frantically.
“And then what? Come home to you?” Rust tilts his head and grins. Cole’s cheeks pink again and Rust wants to trace the flush with his tongue.
“I mean,” Cole coughs and his gaze darts around, “not exactly. Don’t you feel bad? Self-conscious?”
Rust makes his confusion known with a carefully arched brow. Cole sighs in exasperation.
“You’re not stupid, Rust, you know what bible thumpers say. People like my dad.”
“Oh.” Rust finally looks away too, humbled by his oversight. “My parents aren’t like that. Never have been. That always helped. When a sermon would come that got a bit excessive, my mom would always take me aside and set me right.”
Sure, it still took him a while to come out to his parents. He only recently told them the real cause of his and Cole’s fallout all those years ago, and all the emotions tangled in that mess. He doesn’t talk about the whole being queer thing at length with either of them, not much more than letting them know when he’s staying over with Cole or if Cole’s coming over. It works for them; the quiet acceptance is more than enough to sate Rust’s fears.
“But what about the other people?”
Rust shrugs again. “Who cares what other people think? The folks at the church aren’t nasty about it, and anyone who would be is too scared of my dad to go trying anything. I like going to church, and I like kissing you. Those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
Cole shivers and leans into him. He tucks his face against the curve of Rust’s neck and finally lets go of his tie, winding his arms around Rust’s chest. “You say that shit so easily.”
Rust runs his hands along Cole’s back. “It’s just the truth. Nothing else I could say.” He kisses Cole then trails his mouth down his cheek and neck, nudging at the stretched out collar of Cole’s shirt. “There’s nothing in the world that could make me feel bad for how I feel about you.”
“Rusty,” Cole gasps out, “you can’t just say that.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” Rust tugs at Cole’s shirt to get at his shoulder, peppering the mole-dotted skin with lovebites. “How my love for you is as powerful as my love of God? That loving you is as near as I get to being holy?”
“Rust!” Cole arches against him despite his admonishing tone. “God, you’re embarrassing.”
“You love it,” Rust taunts back. He stops abusing Cole’s poor shirt and fumbles for the hem instead. “Let me show you.”
Cole lifts his arms and lets Rust yank the shirt off, tossing it to some corner of the room. Rust pushes him back and finally drags his mouth along the dip of Cole’s collarbone, down to his chest. Cole whines and squirms until Rust’s hands tighten around his waist.
“Don’t go running off,” Rust mumbles against the swell of one pec, his breath ghosting over one of Cole’s nipples. “I’m showing you how divine you are, alright?”
Cole twitches under him. “You’re gonna kill me, dude.”
Rust shakes his head but remains focused. He curls his lips around Cole’s right nipple first, biting down with his teeth just enough to earn a hiss. He sucks until Cole’s all but thrashing under him, then switches to the other side with equal fervor. Cole knots a hand in his hair which only spurs him on, until he’s practically mauling Cole’s chest.
By the time he lets Cole yank him back, his mouth is slick with drool and Cole’s chest is covered in hickies.
“Fuck, Rusty,” Cole pants, “I’m not gonna last.”
Rust doesn’t reply. He shuffles on his aching knees until he can nip along the waistband of Cole’s jeans. “May I?”
“Fuck you, please.” Cole nearly smacks him in the face in his haste to undo his belt. Rust can only laugh at the eagerness, even as his own cock twitches in his slacks. His belt comes off with a hiss and gets similarly abandoned as his shirt; Rust smacks Cole’s hands away then to reach for the button and zipper. Cole whines and Rust looks up long enough to watch him rake his hands through his hair. “Rusty, c’mon.”
“So impatient. Worship isn’t worth rushing, Cole. It takes time.” He sucks a languishing kiss just under Cole’s belly button, then undoes his jeans with quick fingers. He follows the line of the zipper with his mouth, letting his spit darken the front of Cole’s boxer briefs. “God, your smell.” He tugs Cole’s jeans down far enough to press his face at the crease of his hip and thigh. “You’re incredible, Cole.”
Cole’s thighs are twitching as his jeans finally hit the ground. Rust takes a moment to appreciate the sight of Cole’s cock, hard and swathed in plaid cotton, before tugging that away too. He leaves the boxers trapped around Cole’s knees and bends to suckle at the tip greedily.
Rust is ready for it when Cole’s hands land in his hair again, alternating between tugging and scraping and holding.
“Rust,” Cole moans shakily, “don’t tease me.”
“Not teasing. Taking my time.” Rust pulls back, letting Cole’s cock rest on the tip of his lip until his boyfriend meets his eyes. “Worshipping, remember?”
Cole groans, first in exasperation then in pleasure. Rust hums, pleased, as he sinks his mouth down inch by inch on Cole’s dick. He goes slow and steady, his favorite way to taste Cole, until his nose is buried in the thatch of brown curls at the base. The hands in his hair clench and Cole’s knees dig into Rust’s ribs pleasantly. He feels trapped, quite literally locked in, and there’s nowhere Rust would rather be.
“Ruh-Rust-?”
He pulls back and replaces his mouth with his hand, palm moving slick over the red hot skin. “Talk to me, darling.”
Cole shudders. “Tell me- tell me more.”
“Tell you what? How winsome you are? How deific you are?” He kisses down Cole’s shaft then detours to suck a harsh kiss into his thigh. The pale skin purples almost instantly under his teeth, the indents burning red and wet. He can’t resist leaving a whole line of them until Cole tugs him back up by his curls. “Thought you didn’t want me embarrassing you?”
“You’re such a- fuck, Rust!” Cole’s entire body jolts, kept down only by the hand Rust presses over his stomach, as he takes Cole’s cock into his mouth again. He rides out the wave as Cole thrashes under him, overstimulated. Over the blood rushing in his ears he can hear Cole babbling, begging, falling apart with each passing second.
Cole’s dick twitches against his tongue and Rust drinks down the burst of precome that goes with it. He knows every sign and signal of Cole getting close to the brink—the way his body twists, how his cock throbs, the exact keening tone of his voice as he moans himself hoarse.
Then Rust pulls back, and almost feels bad at Cole’s answering sob. “Beautiful,” Rust breathes out, wiping at the drool gathering at the corner of his lips. “Making you feel this good can’t possibly be a sin. Not when you sound like an angel moaning my name.”
Cole whines and grapples for him, hauling him up and close to kiss him. He shimmies out of his boxers and winds his legs around Rust’s waist, rutting against him.
“You’re gonna stain my tie, baby,” Rust mutters, pulling back far enough to loosen the knot and finally yank the tie off. “If I kiss you I can’t blow you.” Even so, Rust kisses him again.
Cole pouts into it. “I just- I want all of you, I told you that.”
“You’ve got all of me, Cole. Always have.” Rust leans back and his words hit Cole’s lips. When their eyes meet, Cole’s eyes are wide and crazed and Rust can feel his own desperation reflected back at him. “You gotta let go of me if you want me to grab the lube, though.”
Cole lets out a frustrated groan but obeys, loosening his hold just long enough for Rust to rifle around in the bedside table and grab the half-full bottle of lube. He spills a bit on his slacks getting it open and resolves to get the washer going before his parents get home to avoid any unnecessary questions. He spills even more onto the sheets as he brings two fingers between Cole’s thighs.
“Oh, fuck,” Cole gasps, his body opening beautifully for Rust. He trembles, as he always does, until the burn fades and he starts to rut back against Rust’s fingers. “Enough, c’mon, I’m ready.”
“I’m not hurting you,” Rust tells him before adding a third finger, “no matter how much you beg me.” He presses a kiss to the dip between Cole’s pecs and murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin. “How fair and pleasant you are, o loved one.”
“Rust,” Cole squeaks, “what’re you-?”
“You are stately as a palm tree…I will climb the palm tree and lay hold of its branches.” He nips at Cole’s nipple again until it’s hard under his tongue. He tongues over the moles scattered across Cole’s ribs as he speaks. “The scent of your breath like apples, and your kisses like the best wine that goes down smoothly, gliding over lips and teeth.”
Rust curls his fingers inside Cole and basks in the answering, wanton moan. “I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me.”
Cole nods nonsensically. “For you, Rusty, always-!” His hands rake down Rust’s back but his nails don’t hold up against the starched dress shirt; Rust finds himself missing the familiar burn of the welts, even the way they twinge over his burn scars in just the right-wrong way.
He bends down, curled over Cole as if to shield him from everything outside of this moment. He lets his words brush over Cole’s cock as it bounces from the force of his fingers thrusting rhythmically. Harmonizing with Cole’s cries, Rust continues.
“Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields,” he murmurs, and Cole obeys. Rust circles his cock with a loose, calloused hand and it hardly takes two strokes before Cole’s coming apart. His release spurts up his chest, stray drops staining Rust’s own shirt. Around Rust’s fingers, Cole tightens and pulls him in deeper.
Rust alternates between licking Cole clean, his mouth tasting of come mixed with the faint hint of communion wine, and murmuring still. “Let us go out early to the vineyards, and see whether the vines have budded, whether the grape blossoms have opened and the pomegranates are in bloom. There I will give you my love.” He ends his tidying by following the column of Cole’s throat, up across his jaw, to his lips in a sweat-tinged kiss.
Cole nearly devours him in return. He holds Rust’s curls tight and angles him as he pleases and steals all the air from his lungs until they’re both left gasping. “I need you inside me, Rust, now.”
His legs, still curled around Rust’s waist, are already doing their damndest to shove his slacks off. It’d work if they weren’t so nicely tailored, leaving them snug and unmoving.
“Fuck these stupid pants, I hate them,” Cole snaps, “please take them off.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Rust undoes his button and zipper with his clean hand, and Cole helps him shove those and his briefs down and out of the way. Rust pulls his fingers from Cole and squirts more lube over his fingers, smearing it along his dick. “Do you understand yet? How loving you is as divine as sacrament?”
Cole doesn’t snark back at him, though Rust can see him briefly considering it. Can see it in the twitch of his lips and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Instead he nods, trembling, and lets his legs fall from Rust’s waist to spread wide instead.
“I love you,” Cole tells him, “please fuck me.”
Despite the tension in the air, thick enough to happily choke on, Rust finds himself snickering. He tugs Cole to the edge of the bed to give himself more leverage, then guides his cock to Cole’s slick, stretched hole. “So polite, so lovely,” he hums as he sinks inside. “Couldn’t ask for a better altar to worship at.”
Cole’s mouth moves like he means to speak but nothing comes out. Rust can’t help his satisfied grin as he presses in inch by inch until there’s no further to go, until Cole’s clamped around his cock like a vice. Only then does Cole speak, a long and drawn out hiss: “Fuck.”
“You alright? Not too much?” Rust rolls his hips gently and Cole shudders in his arms.
“S’perfect, need you, Rusty.”
“Told you,” Rusty says as he braces one arm against the bed, the other wrapped around Cole’s hip, “you got me, darling.” He punctuates the familiar admission with a thrust of his hips, then another and a third because he can’t quite help himself. He’s put his own pleasure aside for however long now, but it’s getting to be too much. With the heat of Cole around him, the perfect pressure, he can’t help but admit, “Not gonna last, Cole, shit.”
Cole rolls his hips. “Good, don’t hold back, Rust.”
And, well, Rust is nothing if not obedient. He kisses Cole hard, their teeth knocking together before they find their rhythm, and steals every moan from his mouth as he fucks his boyfriend in earnest. The rickety bed creaks underneath them, the headboard slaps against the wall in a lewd, unrelenting beat. Rust feels like a beast, driven by nothing but pure innate desire. He’s still kneeling beside the bed, his Sunday’s best is a complete mess, and he’s never been happier.
He buries his face against Cole’s neck and sucks over his thudding heartbeat. “You gonna come again?”
Cole nods. With Rust’s slacks sagging, Cole’s managed to pull his dress shirt up until his nails can scrape down Rust’s back. It spurs him on, electric zaps of pleasure barreling them both closer to the edge again. “Inside me, yeah?”
“S’gonna be messy,” Rust says, which definitely isn’t a no. If he had his way, he’d have Cole reeking of his come constantly, always keeping the Kettle Springs golden boy just a bit untidy. He’s man enough to admit the animalistic desire to mark his territory, and Cole rarely minds. “Want me to mess you up, baby?”
“Want you to fuckin’ ruin me, Rusty,” Cole says, low and needy, before kissing him. It’s Rust’s turn to whine as the words tip him over the brink. His hips jackhammer into Cole, no finesse or precision, just instinct. He chases his pleasure and is just faintly aware of Cole rutting against him, smearing precome over his shirt worse than before.
Rust thinks of wearing Cole’s mess on his church clothes, of truly combining the two most divine things in his life, and comes with an undignified grunt. He and Cole aren’t so much as kissing now as they are breathing each other in, mouthing and nipping at each other as Rust grinds his cock in deeper, as Cole comes with a shuddery gasp between them. The tightness wrings another moan from Rust, a final few spurts of come buried deep inside his boyfriend before they both go slack on the bed.
Rust is still trying to get his bearings back when the sound of a car door shutting outside startles him. He and Cole both sit up, eyes wide and trained on each other.
“Damn,” Rust mutters at the same moment Cole says, “fuck, your parents are gonna kill me.”
“They don’t know you're here. You can sneak outside and come around to the front door. It’ll be fine.”
“It will not be fine, I don’t even think I can move. Also I’m naked-!”
“Obviously you would get dressed first, Cole!”
Their hushed argument isn’t frantic enough to hide the sound of Rust’s parents wandering inside.
“Ruston?” His dad hollers. “You still home?”
Rust swallows the nerves and shouts back. “Yeah, was just about to hop in the shower.”
Cole smacks him. “Dude, suspicious!”
Rust doesn’t have time to correct him before his mom chimes in. “Is Cole staying for lunch or will y’all be heading out on a date here soon?”
Rust and Cole lock eyes. Rust means to reply, but the urge to deny Cole’s presence and the need to apologize get all tangled in his throat.
“Uh, yes Mrs. Vance! I’ll stay for lunch!”
Rust finally manages to get his brain back on line. “Though you two went to the diner after church.”
“We got distracted talking with the mayor, didn’t even make it to a booth. You two wash up quick, alright? Lunch’ll be ready in about twenty.”
“Okay, ma,” Rust calls back before ducking his head against Cole’s chest. “Sorry,” he says, though it feels a bit trite spoken against a fairly prominent, bruising lovebite on his boyfriend’s chest.
“Don’t apologize. It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. Doesn’t mean it’s any less embarrassing, though.”
Cole kisses him, cups his stubbled cheeks and licks into his mouth swift enough to make Rust’s dick twitch with interest. “Think I can convince them that us showering together is the responsible thing to do for the environment?”
“Not a chance.” Rust pulls out, shushing Cole’s whine with a hiss of his own. “Besides, shower’s not big enough for two here. You can have first dibs, go on.”
But Cole doesn’t move, not right away. He sits up slowly, keeps his hands on Rust’s shoulders to hold him still. “I really do love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Cole,” Rust replies, just as serious. “Thank you for letting me show you how much.”
Cole’s kiss-bitten grin is too tempting to resist, but as Rust leans in three sharp raps on his door startle them apart.
“C’mon boys, hurry up. Lunch will be ready in fifteen.” His mom’s voice brooks no room for argument.
“Yes ma’am,” they reply in tandem. As her footsteps fade down the hall, they share a breathless laugh.
“Maybe next week I will come with,” Cole says as they finally separate. He redresses haphazardly, and Rust gathers clothes for them both to wear post-shower. He unearths an old, too-short pair of sweats from the bottom of his dresser, and snatches the abandoned hoodie up off the floor before passing them to Cole.
“You don’t have to.” Rust checks himself over to make sure he isn’t terribly unkempt, and figures it’s nothing his parents aren’t already expecting to see. “That wasn’t that was about.”
“No, I know.” Cole pulls the bedroom door open and peeks out, stepping out into the hallway after he apparently deems it clear. “But I want to. I wanna see what you see. I wanna get closer to you too, Rust.”
Rust can’t help but kiss him again, there in the hall, and not even his mother politely clearing her throat can make him break away a moment sooner. When they do finally part, she’s standing with a laundry basket against one hip and a smirk on her face. “Sorry ma,” Rust apologizes instinctively.
“Don’t apologize, boy,” she tells him, gesturing them both down the hall toward the bathroom. “But if you’re not down in ten, I’m sending your dad up here. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am,” Rust says again.
“And Cole, we’d absolutely love to have you at next week’s service with us.” She smiles at him too, and then she’s gone down the stairs. “Ten minutes, boys.”
“Your mom is great,” Cole says after a beat, “and a little bit terrifying.”
“My dad’ll be a whole lot scarier if we make him wait for lunch much longer, so c’mon, let’s wash up.”