Artrick X Brokeback Mountain When??? - Blog Posts

started the school year with a cowboy artrick x Ethel Cain fic, i’ll end the same way | Crush by Ethel Cain | 18+ MDNI

⟢ i owe you a black eye and two kisses / tell me when you wanna come and get ‘em ⟣

Patrick who really wasn’t fond of Art at the start. this blue eyed, blonde boy who showed up at his door on move-in day, barely looking like he’d ridden a horse a day in his life. his hands were too soft, his face was too bright, his demeanor too warm for life on the ranch. but what business is it of his? why should he care? he’ll figure it out on his own soon enough.

but he knows the other guys on the ranch just can’t stand it either, can’t stand this newbie who talks too much and asks too many questions. they loathe him, and honestly, Patrick pities Art. he’s as oblivious as a newborn calf and it’s almost painful to watch how he just can’t take a hint. it’s stupid, it’s so stupid the way he feels sorry for this blonde kid fresh off the train from New Rochelle. he shouldn’t. but he just can’t help it, and it gets even worse when he comes back to their room one day and finds him crying on his bed, head in his hands.

those poor, high-pitched whining sounds he’s making, the way his shoulders and his arms shake. he can’t just stand there, and he sure as hell can’t ignore it. he shuts the door quietly and kicks off his boots by their shared closet before walking to sit on his bed across from Art, his hands in his lap. he swallows before he opens his mouth. “…are you okay…?” he asks as softly as he can manage. Art just shakes his head, not meeting the brunette’s eyes, his sobs softening just a little but not by much. Patrick hates the non response. it means he has to try again. “can i do anything..?”

Art sniffles and takes a shaky breath behind his fingers. “i—c-can you get me s-something frozen from the f-f-freezer..?” he asks through shaky sobs. Patrick nods, even if he knows Art can’t see it, and walks to their mini fridge, pulling open the freezer door and grabbing a small bag of peas from inside. he steps back and offers it out to the blonde—but his heart stops when he finally gets a look at his face.

Art’s pale skin is darkened by a large black and blue mark coloring his eye. it looks incredibly painful, and Patrick knows he doesn’t have to ask who did it or why it happened. he already knows. so instead he just kneels down in front of Art and presses the bag of peas to his face, his heart clenching at the sound of the blonde’s hiss of pain. “sorry..” he murmurs, his free hand on Art’s knee. “it’s not your fault.” he says pitifully. god, Patrick can barely stand it, his thumb rubbing over his skin through the denim of his jeans. he doesn’t know what to say, other than he’ll beat the shit out of those guys tomorrow. but that probably wouldn’t be a comfort to him right now.

he sighs deeply. “do you want a cigarette?”

⟢ he looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro Reds ⟣

they sit together on Art’s bed, the blonde pressing the bag of peas to his eye while nursing a shared cigarette with the other. it gets passed back and forth between them, the smoke blown into the quiet air. it’s somehow soothing and yet, it makes Patrick’s skin crawl a little. there are things he wants to say—‘it’s not your fault’, ‘those guys are assholes’, ‘i could kick the shit out of them if you wanted’—but nothing would pass from his lips. instead they were stuck in this silence. well..that is until Art laughs wetly, a pitiful sound. “can’t believe i let them get one over on me like that…it’s worse i believed they actually liked me…” he reaches for the cigarette again, guiding it a little clumsily to his lips and taking a deep drag.

Patrick doesn’t laugh though. he knows he bad loneliness affects people on the ranch, especially newbies. “those guys..are assholes.” he all but whispers, his head hazy with smoke. “they just…don’t really take to newbies well.” he continues, taking the cigarette back for his own drag. it was a little more than a stub now, they’d need another soon. “but they are still assholes..” he watches Art nod solemnly beside him, taking a breath before putting the pea bag down from his eye. “yeah. they are.”

the mark is less angry, less swollen, but still dark. maybe even darker than before. Art tossed the bag to the foot of the bed, sighing as he leaned back on his hands. “i don’t know why i thought talking so much would make them like me…i just—i don’t fucking know.” he gripes quietly, clearly frustrated by all of this. Patrick listens quietly as he finishes the cigarette and stubs it out in the ash tray by the window sill. “you just wanted to connect with them..” he tries. Art nods, his curls bouncing a little. “i guess so..it’s just so lonely out here, is it so bad that i wanted to maybe chat with these guys on a lunch break or something?”

Patrick shakes his head, lying back. “no. but they’ve just been doing this for so long that it’s almost impossible for them to find connection…enjoyable anymore. it’s not you.” and he knows it sounds fake, a stupid sentiment, but he’s trying. because truthfully he likes this blonde cowboy, and he doesn’t want him to feel like everyone here is out to get him. he glances over at Art, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder. “it really isn’t you.”

Art’s baby blue’s dart down to Patrick’s hand, his face softening just a little at the contact. it’s warm, it’s soothing, it’s welcome. he exhales softly. “thanks..” the silence that follows is a little tense, but not tense in an uncomfortable way—tense with warmth and something drawing them to each other. Art slowly leans himself back to lay next to Patrick on the bed, turning his face to meet those green eyes. they’re beautiful.

⟢ there’s just something about you, baby / maybe i’ll just be crazy ⟣

neither of them are sure how it happens, who moved first, or even why—but sure enough their lips end up connected and they don’t dare to part. Art melts, the feel of Patrick’s lips against his rough and warm and all he could want after so many months alone. but deep down he knows this is different, this isn’t just connection. Patrick sighs, his hand finding Art’s waist and tugging him right up against him, the hard line of his body a welcome sensation.

the blonde’s lips part for Patrick’s tongue to slid against his own, the slickness of it making his stomach flip and turn with arousal he knows the brunette can feel growing against his thigh through his jeans. Patrick’s hand on his hip encourages Art to rock against him, to relieve the ache however he wants. it makes a small moan slip through his pink lips between kisses. “shit…” it's breathy and perfect and it drives Patrick wild, his hand tightening on Art's hip, his thumb slipping under the waistband of his jeans for some skin-to-skin contact. Art tips his head back, feeling the brunette grind in rhythm against him and kiss at his jaw, his breaths hot against his skin. everything is hot and smells like wood and dirt and musk—it's perfect.

they go on and on, exchanging kisses as they grind against each other, soft moans and gasps of pleasure filling the room. it's more contact than either of them have had in months and they realize in this moment how badly they've needed this. Patrick's kisses sweep over Art's face, becoming tender as his lips press carefully against his bruised eye. Art hisses with pain and pleasure, his hips jerking forward. "Pat.." Patrick whines, hips rolling faster against the blonde. he never wants him to stop saying his name like that. "Art, baby..."

it sneaks up on them both, but with another heated kiss and the grip of Patrick's hand sliding down to the back of Art's thigh to hoist it over his hip, they are soon flying over the edge of pleasure with groans and high pitched gasps, staining their jeans. they pant into each other's mouths, foreheads pressed tightly to one another as they breathe each other down from their highs. "god." Art pants out, his leg still hooked around Patrick's hip, keeping them slotted against one another like two puzzle pieces. Patrick chuckles breathlessly. "yeah..goddamn.." his hand keeps it's spot on Art's hip, rubbing there soothingly. he leans to press a soft kiss to his black eye.

"if they give you anymore trouble, i'll owe them all black eyes, cowboy.."