Billy Rock (
assassinwithahairpin) wrote2016-10-17 12:50 am
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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.
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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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.
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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.
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He kissed up Goodnight's neck, found his mouth again. His spare hand slid to Goodnight's cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.
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"Come on," he gasped when they parted again. His hand held Billy's face, cradled him for another kiss. "I need you, Billy."
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His breath hitched, caught in his chest. "Oh, Goody."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"Oh don't stop," he sighed, as if he were concerned Billy actually would at this point.
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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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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.
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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.
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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."
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He kissed Goodnight back, slow and content. He didn't want to move.
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"Well now we're in need of a bath," he lamented, though there was a smile hiding in his complaint.
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"Could jump in the river."
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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.
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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.
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Not once in the entire shoot out had he been able to pull the trigger.
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"And, anyway," Billy continued, shrugging, "it's none of Faraday's business."
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Goodnight couldn't get the words out. Someone could have died because of him. There had been enough of them today that it worked out, others making up for his slack. But Bogue wasn't going to send a dozen men next time; he'd come with a small army.
He tried not to let himself get too agitated.
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Billy was firm on that front. He didn't like how Faraday looked at the two of them, didn't like Faraday's glib tongue and judgmental eyes. He was only a few years younger than Billy, but he acted like a boy in comparison. And it was none of his business, Goodnight's afflictions. Those were Goodnight's, and by extension Billy's.
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But he didn't think it would be an option now. He feared, inevitably, he would need to raise his hands in violence again. He met Billy's gaze, seeing reflected in them a confidence he longed for. He wondered if Sam knew, if he realized. He had to.
He tried to take a deeper breath and let it go slowly, but it came out in a huff. "Let's hope he finds other interests to occupy his time." But Goody knew disdain when he saw it.
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