assassinwithahairpin | [voice test]

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[voice test]

Even at night, Rose Creek was a city of desert heats this time of year. Billy had shucked his jacket in the room of the boarding house and excused himself from Faraday and Vasquez's increasing revelries in favor of a cigarette. Though the heat still lingered in the clapboards and railings, the night had a breeze that carried mining smells in from the east.

Billy leaned his elbows on the railing of the balcony, cigarette pinched between his fingers, and considered. This was not his sort of a play, if he were perfectly honest. He was here because he was Robichaeux's man, because he needed him; and Robichaeux was here because of--a debt? A promise? An inescapable and inexplicable need to right his past? And what about the others? Money, connection, promises. He and Red Harvest seemed the odd outliers which Billy could not explain.

A door opened to his left, but he didn't react to it. He knew who it was. He brought the cigarette to his lips and looked up at the moon, wan on the horizon, providing no real light to the evening.

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Billy endured it for a while because he liked the way that Billy touched him and it was almost a moment's pause to make up for every kiss he hadn't given for days. But soon he felt urgent again, fingers tangling tight in Billy's hair with the next kiss. "Don't tease now," he breathed.

Goodnight lifted his hips and reached between them, stroking Billy like it might remind him they had plans.

Billy hissed in a breath, urgent and needy, as Goodnight touched him like that. He sank a finger into him easily, pressing as best he could with the angle what it was. It didn't lend itself to depth or speed, but was probably one of the better angles just for stretching.

He eased a second finger in shortly, watching Goody's face intently. His mouth was filled with praise, but it came out only as a sigh and a smile.

"That's better," he sighed. The angle wasn't perfect but it would suffice for what they needed right now; Goodnight could adjust later, when this part was finished. As the second finger sank in he rocked back to meet it, encouraging and maybe getting a bit impatient.

Memories, unbidden, from the shoot out bubbled up and pressed for some life affirming. He opened his eyes to Billy smiling, and that pressed it all down for a while longer.

Billy watched the moment come over Goodnight's face, the worry, the anguish, that they so rarely spoke of. And in the next moment, Goodnight looking down at him, it was gone. Sometimes, Billy worried about that. More often than not, in fact. But Goodnight Robicheaux was a full grown man, and on the days he needed Billy to carry him, he was glad to carry that weight.

"How many," Billy asked, a breath of his voice. What was their rush here? How urgent was their desire cresting? Billy wanted Goody like he needed to breathe, but he could draw this out if he needed to.

Goodnight had to weigh what he might actually need against what he wanted in the moment. His breath shivered as he exhaled. "Give me another," he said. They didn't need to rush and it had been several tense days. The last thing he needed was to be overly sore from his preferred relief.

Billy nodded. He had been tempted to give Goodnight another even if he didn't want it. There was tension and longing and need, all wrapped up together, and the last thing either of them needed was a suspicious soreness distracting them from the business at hand.

He kept going with two fingers for a moment, leaning up a little to kiss Goodnight's ribs, up his chest, his neck--now Billy was sitting up, Goodnight still ensconced on his lap, and he kissed him. There were times he wished he could leave marks, visible for others to witness. This is mine, those marks would say. I was here.

Sometimes he left marks, but they were hideable things. Goodnight was too much in love with his presentation of propriety to allow the hint of a bruise above his collar; Billy was too wary of the repercussions to allow one above his. It worked. Tonight, he pressed a kiss, and then his teeth, just under Goodnight's collarbone as he sank a third finger into him.

There were moments - more and more as their days together accumulated - when Goodnight wanted to yell damn propriety and do as he pleased. It was hard to break from what had been bred into him, and harder still to come to terms with the risks it would present to step out with Billy the way he might have stepped out with a young lady back before he'd worn the gray. They could handle themselves, of that he had no doubt. But how long before accusations of deviancy flew? Even out here, on this frontier, judgment would find them.

And he could not bring that to bear on Billy. He would not.

As Billy sat up, Goodnight tried to get them closer to the headboard. He lost his fingers in Billy's hair as his mouth moved, leaving a bruise on his collar. "Oh Billy," he sighed, back arching as Billy filled him, stretched him, with tender demand.

Billy slid another finger into Goodnight, relishing the way he had fine shivers in his body, the sigh of his voice, the fact that, maybe, if they kept this up, Goodnight could be noisy. There were few times when they allowed themselves too much noise, and Billy wished there might be a day that they didn't have to worry.

He kissed up Goodnight's neck, found his mouth again. His spare hand slid to Goodnight's cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

Goodnight braced himself so he could ride Billy's fingers. He tipped his head to meet the kiss, moaning against Billy's mouth when his hand found his cock.

"Come on," he gasped when they parted again. His hand held Billy's face, cradled him for another kiss. "I need you, Billy."

Billy grabbed the slick once more. He eased his fingers out of Goodnight, but didn't stop stroking him, still light, still teasing, as he slicked himself up quickly and adjusted their position so that he could guide himself in.

His breath hitched, caught in his chest. "Oh, Goody."

Goodnight made sure Billy stayed propped up some - it'd be easier to kiss him that way, and that was not something he was willing to give up tonight. Somehow he stayed still, despite Billy's teasing, until he felt his cock. Goody sank down, knees sliding further apart on the bed until their bodies met.

Hearing Billy's voice like that made everything else fade away. He started moving his hips as soon as he felt comfortable. "I'm here," he murmured. "You got me."

The moment of sinking into Goodnight was rapturous. Billy held himself still for a moment, waiting until Goodnight started to move. And when he did, Billy didn't let himself hold back. He went for depth more than speed, fucking up into Goody with a desperation that trembled in his legs.

The bed creaked beneath them. Billy didn't care. He crooked a leg and used his foot on the mattress to get a bit of leverage. "I've got you," he whispered back, and kissed Goody's mouth, hungry and deep and positively adoring.

He tightened his grip on the headboard, his other hand holding the back of Billy's head as they kissed. "You-- oh." Goodnight lost his words, caught up in the feeling Billy gave him. He matched his rhythm, wanting him deep every time.

Goodnight's mouth slid from Billy's, kissing down his jaw, his neck. He found a place on his shoulder to leave a bruise - nothing that would show, but something that would linger.

Billy smiled, impressed that Goodnight had gone so quickly wordless. Normally, it took a little while. Normally, Billy had to tell him to keep quiet. He was the same way, with Goodnight inside him.

He groaned at the way Goody kissed down his jaw and neck, hissing in a breath at the bite. His hips leapt up in response, jostling Goody on his lap.

They hadn't had space or time to be intimate in days and Goodnight had missed it more than he realized. He groaned at the jump of Billy's hips. Goodnight pushed up, trying to get a better angle. He wanted to feel Billy deep every time. His hand slid from the headrest to grip Billy's shoulder instead, bracing against him for support.

"Oh don't stop," he sighed, as if he were concerned Billy actually would at this point.

When Goody lifted, Billy followed. He put his hands on Goody's hips and guided him, took the weight of his hand bracing on his shoulder and rocked into him. He adored Goody over him like this, but it wasn't an ideal position.

They could adjust, could move, take another position. But Billy wanted to be able to kiss him, and he couldn't so many other ways.

He kept moving. "Come on," he murmured, soft, encouraging. He gripped Goody's hips tight and dragged him down to meet each thrust.

"Just--" His voice cut off as their position changed just so. Goodnight tightened his grip on Billy's shoulder and arched his back for a moment, hips stuttering in their movement. "Oh right there, Billy. Like this."

It wasn't as perfect as they could get it but it was good, and if he could just stay like this every stroke of Billy's cock touched the right place. "Fuck, darlin." Goodnight didn't often cuss, but Billy could drive him to it.

He pulled Billy into another kiss, slick and urgent as his body tightened, as he came. He couldn't deny Billy anything.

Watching the rapture on Goodnight's face was worth everything else--the strain in his thigh and the ache in his hips and how desperate he felt. Goody came between them and Billy groaned softly. He had a bit left in him, but not much. It wouldn't take long now.

He kissed Goodnight back, slow but desperate, his teeth scraping his lower lip. He sucked gently, and sighed. He was not far behind Goody, not when he was tight and shivering.

He fucked him through his own orgasm, groaning softly. "Oh, Goody," he breathed against his mouth, clutching him close.

Goodnight chased the taste of Billy's mouth, seeking more. He kept moving, not wanting to deny Billy his own satisfaction. He made a quiet, content sound when he felt Billy come, heard his name on his breath. He slowed, finally stopped as they both tried to catch their breaths.

It was no hardship to stay close, holding Billy as tight as he dared in that moment, but not with the same sort of desperation he'd felt a moment ago. He stroked back Billy's hair, kissed him sweetly. "There now," he murmured, voice still breathy. "I think that made up for some lost time."

When their bodies eventually stilled, Billy continued to hold Goodnight close. He breathed slowly. They were messes, the both of them. Goody's voice was thick and heavy like the best kind of woolen blanket, a comfort on a cool night.

He kissed Goodnight back, slow and content. He didn't want to move.

Goodnight lingered, plucking sweet kisses from Billy's mouth. Eventually he had to move, not wanting to risk either of them getting stiff and uncomfortable. He moved reluctantly, easing out of Billy's lap in favor of settling next to him, sunk down against the pillows propped against the headboard.

"Well now we're in need of a bath," he lamented, though there was a smile hiding in his complaint.

"I don't know if they have one large enough for the both of us," Billy said, a smile hiding in his voice as well. He slipped his hand gently against Goodnight's, twined their fingers together as they sat there, side by side, taking up too much space on the too narrow bed.

"Could jump in the river."

"Mm, there was that pond out there as well, but this is neither the time nor the place to make a bareass run for it." When they were alone together, out in the wilderness it was no thing at all to rush from their tent to a nearby river or pond or lake. But here? Goodnight was not keen on it at all. "You want to get dressed long enough to get there?"

He laced his fingers with Billy's, content to maintain that entwined touch. He lifted their joined hands to kiss Billy's knuckles. He could still smell gunpowder on them and he frowned.

"Why'd you tell Faraday the rifle was jammed?" he asked softly.

"I do not want to put any of my clothes back on, thank you," Billy said, rather cheerily considering he was letting his eyes slide blissfully shut. He made no sound when Goodnight laced their fingers together, sighed only softly when he lifted their hands and kissed his knuckles.

He was quiet for a moment. They had, all three of them, been looking at the gun when he'd said it. But his voice had brooked no argument, and Billy didn't expect one from Faraday.

"For your pride," he murmured. It was a thin excuse for what he'd done. He tilted their hands away from Goody's mouth and kissed his knuckles in turn.

A pained look crossed his face and his fingers briefly tightened around Billy's at the touch of his lips. "You didn't have to do that," he said quietly. And he was ashamed, deeply so, that Billy felt the need to make excuses for his hesitation... his cowardice. The shot had been good, easy.

Not once in the entire shoot out had he been able to pull the trigger.

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