assassinwithahairpin | All of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns

It had been a hard past few days, far from anywhere. They were in Colorado now, some mining town that made it a little easier for Billy to blend in because of the number of Chinese workers for the mine and the railroad. They'd decided to stay for a few days, long enough for the horses to get a good rest, and to have a bed under them for longer than a moment.

Their room at the hotel was relatively large. There was a tub--they'd both used it--and a balcony. They'd smoked. Billy had gotten them marijuana and opium this time, to roll with his tobacco, carefully marking the cigarettes with which was which. Tonight, it had been opium, and Billy felt a lovely, warm haze in him; half the smoke, half the gin they'd been drinking since dinner.

He was laying on the bed, watching Goodnight, when it struck him. For all the world, he didn't know why it had taken him quite so long. But looking at Goodnight, out of his jacket and waistcoat and with his sleeves turned up to show strong forearms, Billy was suddenly keenly aware that he could spend the rest of his life with this man.

He smiled softly at the thought.

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The smack, like the one to Billy's thigh, elicited a brief noise, and a deeper flush. His knees slid apart slightly, accommodating, as he lifted his hips.

"Impatient," he murmured, but it got all swallowed up as Goodnight pressed into him like that. It was not a slow movement, but it was steady and not very rough. Billy reached down and touched Goodnight's hand on his hip.

Goodnight tangled their fingers together against Billy's hip. "You started it," he insisted, accent heavier. He braced his other hand against the bed, bringing him lower over Billy's back when he started moving with steady, deep thrusts. He couldn't shake that urgent fire, might as well give into it.

Billy huffed and groaned, a soft protest of a sound but it was only to Goodnight's teasing voice, and certainly not to the actions of their hips meeting each other. He rocked back to meet Goodnight's thrusts, voice quickly melting down just to panting breaths.

Goodnight's nose brushed Billy's hair; he smelled like soap and a little like sunlight still. He was a little enamored with the way the exposure lightened Billy's hair. He murmured something sweet and not at all in English; he untangled his hand from Billy's only to try to get his shirt off the rest of the way, exposing his shoulder, his back, to fervent, biting kisses.

Billy helped, wiggling out of his shirt, letting Goodnight strip him out of it and leave him bare beneath him. He shivered from the biting kisses, grounding himself in everything real and physical about this.

"Oh cher," he breathed, sliding his arm around Billy's chest. Goodnight lost himself in the feeling, pulling Billy to meet each thrust. "You feel so good." His voice came out breathless, hoarse. He pushed himself up so he could get a bit more power behind his hips.

A flush washed through Billy, hot and heavy, from his face down and down through his stomach and hips. He pressed his face down into the mattress, panting raggedly as he tried to match Goodnight's pace. It was overwhelming, in the best ways. "Shit," Billy breathed, a croak of a moan.

His hand slid down to curl around Billy's cock. Goodnight longed for thicker walls, better floors; he loved coaxing those sweet sounds out of Billy. He would take what he could get. Goodnight stroked him, trying to match the movement of their hips.

The touch drove a string of Korean swears out of Billy, all in a punched out breath. He rocked his hips back and forth between Goodnight's hand and his cock, trying to get the best of both, trying to get more of either.

"Oh, Goody...Goody."

"Mon cher," he breathed, dazed as that sweet feeling wound up inside him. Billy had turned an accepted nickname into something he loved hearing. No longer Goodnight, just Goody. Only one other person in the world called him that.

"Let me feel you, Billy. 'm right here." God he wanted to kiss him but there was something to be said for this position, about watching the play of the muscles in Billy's back, catching glimpses of his face over his shoulder. Like a tease he didn't know he wanted.

Billy reached to touch him, to feel his hand against his. He tangled their fingers together, sighing softly, working himself recklessly to Goodnight's pace until he couldn't take it anymore. He bit the sheet under him, groaning loudly even as he tried to muffle his sound, as he came.

Goodnight tried to choke back a moan when he felt Billy get tense under him, heard that muffled sound. He let go of Billy's cock to grab his hip, fucking him until that building tension just snapped in him. He tightened his grip as he came, dragging Billy against him as much as he could.

Eventually his hips slowed, stopped, but he tried to stay as deep as he could for a moment longer. His hand smoothed over Billy's side, trying to soothe after a rough finish. Any excuse to touch him.

Billy found Goodnight's hand moving on his side, squeezing gently, as he let his thighs collapse gently out from under him, draping him across the bed and taking Goodnight along with him.

He twisted and kissed him gently

As Billy sank down, Goodnight slid out of him. He eased his weight down after a moment, smiling when he was met with a kiss. He brushed his fingers over Billy's cheek, through his hair. "There now," he murmured.

Billy laughed, softly, at the consoling affection. He gave Goodnight a nudge, and then turned so that he could nuzzle into his side. "Give me a half hour, you'll get yours too."

He yawned as he said it. It took quite a bit of the promise out of the moment.

"I'll believe that when it happens." Goodnight smiled and settled down on the bed. The blankets had been pushed down; he pulled them up to cover them both. "I am thoroughly surprised we both made it this far," he quipped.

"Opium is good for sex," Billy mumbled against Goodnight's chest once he'd pulled up the blanket. The warmth washed through him slowly, the deep affection and comfort of the moment.

Softly, he whispered, "I love you, Goodnight."

"So you keep saying. I seem to recall you offering it every time you think I need to calm down." More often than not, Billy was not wrong. Everything in him felt warm when he heard that whispered affection. He kissed Billy's hair. "I love you," he answered, just as soft.

Billy hummed a little bit, a smile infusing his words: "Opium and sex are both good for calm." It made him laugh, slightly, like he was being especially clever. Exhaustion was starting to chew in at the edges. He tilted up to kiss Goodnight, soft and slow.

"You're not wrong," he laughed. "But together I think the are a recipe for sleep." He quieted with Billy's kiss and held him close, content to feel him, to know he's nearby. "Sleep, mon cher. We'll dance more tomorrow."

All of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns

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