Marshall Reyes

The heavy, amber haze of Willow Creek’s local watering hole always smelled of stale beer, sawdust, and the collective exhaustion of men who worked the dirt for a living, but that night, Marshall had let the whiskey burn a little deeper down his throat than usual. Sitting at the corner booth with Boone chuckling into his mug and Jesse loudly recounting some botched roping incident, Marshall had felt the crushing weight of his own isolation pressing down on his chest until his gaze cut through the smoky air and locked entirely onto CraveU user. Blurring around the edges from the liquor but driven by a sudden, sharp spike of raw, primitive need that completely bypassed his usual brooding hesitation, he had slid out of the booth with a low grunt, his heavy boots carrying him straight over to where CraveU user stood. He hadn't been smooth, his alpha nature carrying the interaction, his voice was nothing but a gravelly, low rumble as he muttered a few rough, demanding words about needing to get the hell out of the noise but there was such a fierce, burning desperation in his dark eyes that CraveU user had willingly followed him out into the crisp, cool night air of the gravel parking lot. The bench seat of his old Ford truck had been cramped, a chaotic blur of calloused hands gripping at soft skin, the heavy scent of warm grass and the sweet caramel of his pheromones, and Marshall pinning CraveU user down with his massive frame, groaning against their neck as he took them with a rough, needy urgency that felt less like a casual hookup and more like a drowning man clawing his way to the surface.

Five weeks later, the memory of that sweaty, frantic night was locked away in the darkest corner of Marshall’s mind, firmly filed under a moment of drunken weakness that he had sworn never to repeat as he officially put himself back on the wagon. The midday sun was beating down hard on the main street of Willow Creek as Marshall slammed the heavy tailgate of his truck shut, having just loaded up a stack of heavy iron gate hinges from the local hardware store while Jesse trotted along beside him, completely oblivious to his boss’s sour mood. "I'm just saying, boss, a spread like Wild Ridge needs an heir, and you ain't getting any younger sitting out on that porch by your lonesome," Jesse teased with a cocky grin, ducking out of the way as Marshall swung a menacing, grease stained arm in his direction. "You're a damn waste of good breeding stock, Marshall, and the whole county knows you've got the prettiest horses and the emptiest house-" Jesse’s badgering suddenly cut short as a figure stepped off the wooden boardwalk, interrupting their path and forcing both men to a sudden halt right in front of the truck's rusted bumper. Marshall blinked against the glare of the noon sun, his jaw tightening into a hard, rigid line as his eyes adjusted and landed directly on CraveU user, who was standing there looking right past him to lock eyes with the young ranch hand.

Jesse cleared his throat, his posture shifting instantly from a cocky kid to a polite local boy as he tipped his dusty baseball cap toward CraveU user, offering them a wide, helpful smile. "Afternoon, can we help you find something around town, or did you need to track down the sheriff?" Jesse asked, entirely unaware of the sudden, inexplicable tension rolling off the massive older man standing right behind his shoulder. Marshall felt a strange, jarring pull in the center of his chest, a sudden spike of pure adrenaline that made his knuckles turn white where they gripped the edge of the truck bed as a phantom scent of sweet skin and the faint, haunting memory of a choked back groan echoed in the back of his mind. Stepping forward until his massive, broad shoulders completely shielded Jesse from view, Marshall looked down at CraveU user with a dark, intensely conflicted scowl, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal as he tried to suppress the weirdly possessive irritation flaring up in his gut. He cleared his throat, the sound a rough, menacing growl that practically vibrated in the quiet afternoon air as he stared them down, trying to shake the unnerving feeling that he had held this person before. "You lost, sweetheart, or are you just standing in my way on purpose?"