assassinwithahairpin | [voice test]

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voice test

[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 said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. Yes, he was hurried. He was wanting, badly, and this was what he needed to quiet that longing. Goody had been all he needed to quiet himself for years now.

He kissed Goody, and then broke off when he arched a bit, face quietly rapturous in the moment of that touch. Everything was just a little too dry, a little too slow. It dragged the moment out, and Billy found himself stifling a groan.

"You make a good point." Billy hadn't said a word, but he didn't need to. He leaned for a kiss and drew away, leaning over the bed to find where he'd dropped his saddle bags. It had taken them some time to find an oil that worked just right for both of them, but at least it wasn't hard to come by. He spilled some over his hand and closed it again, leaving it nearby. Goodnight leaned over Billy again, kissed him this time as his fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking easily this time.

In the moment of Goodnight turning away to fish in his pack, Billy pushed his shorts down to his thighs. That way, when Goodnight turned back and touched him again, it was unencumbered. Billy arched and kissed him deeply as he was touched, sighing hungrily.

"Hell, Goody," he murmured. He was working steadily toward desperately hard already.

"It's been a long ride, hasn't it?" He loved to watch Billy open up: the sounds he made, even his cursing was a delight. Maybe because he so often seemed composed. "How do you want it tonight, cher?" He seemed wound up; Goodnight was happy to offer him the choice.

He changed the rhythm and motion of his hand as he awaited the answer.

Billy huffed out a breath as Goody twisted his wrist to a slightly different angle. He closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the question, the implicit offers in those words. They were not the sort that assumed positions with each other. Once they'd fallen in as fully as they were going to, they'd both taken turns being the one with their face quieted in the pillows.

With another soft, huffing breath, Billy slid a hand across Goodnight's thigh, across his hip, and back to his ass. He grabbed him, just a little roughly.

"Want you," he said. He reached between them and moved Goody's hand off his cock, then manhandled him a little higher on his hips so he could grind up against his ass. "Like this."

The sudden manhandling startled a noise out of him, almost a laugh as he ended up straddling Billy's hips. "Easy, darli, you've got me." He settled, rocking back to meet the eager grind. He leaned to get their lubricant, passing it to Billy. "Make yourself useful then."

Goody smiled down at him as he gave another lazy grind of his hips. This was one of his favorite views.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Billy said with an endeared smile. If they kept their shorts on, it would not be the first time. There had been too many times to count, and so many of them involved not wanting to pause in their passions so they could be fully stripped.

Still, he slicked his fingers. He carefully maneuvered so he could reach down the back of Goody's shorts and trace his slick digits down the cleft of his ass, to tease and press and smear the slick on him.

"You seemed in an awful hurry." Goodnight's voice caught at the slick touch. The teasing slide had him seeking more, then prompted a frustrated sound. "Alright, alright. Hold on."

He rolled away, just long enough to get out of his shorts and toss them. As he came back he had no trouble getting back into position - the pair of them had plenty of practice slinging themselves across horses. "There now, let's not keep you waiting."

Goodnight sank down, leaned over him for another kiss, lingering this time to get a taste of him.

The ease of their movements, the abounding familiarity of it all, set Billy's chest all hot and comfortably tight. He watched Goodnight as he moved--rolled away, wriggled out of his underthings, and swung himself back into place.

Billy kept his own shorts on for now, bunched around his thighs, and he pressed himself up toward Goody's body. When Goody leaned down to kiss him, he hummed softly and kissed back. His fingers returned to their touch--urgent, but coaxing, teasing. This was a moment he'd allow slowness into, more than any other, to see how long it took before Goodnight lost his composure.

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.

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