His breathing started to time itself with Ennis' thrusts, the arousal and the pain making him need the grounding presence of the rhythm, to keep him from crying out and spooking the horses outright. Jack ground himself back into the intrusion wantonly, not giving a damn if that made him a queer, if it made him weak. It made him Ennis', and that's what they needed, he needed, to feel. Nothing else mattered.