2
He frowned. “What do you mean?"
Was it important to tell him I’d heard more than a few things about the plans coming from the East? Of the concentrated effort to bring order and law to the chaos and lawlessness of the West? From the sounds of it, there was a lot more than just talk and muttering into cups. Even now, groups of lawmen were working their way West and had started hunting down gangs, burning down corrupt towns, tearing down brothels, and arming and training lawmen already here to be even more effective.
God above, he would probably get even harder than he was...or would he?
"That is a discussion for another time," I told him, wiggling the container at him first. "Because I need to use this," and wiggled the erection in my hand. "to get this inside me. Unless, of course, you want to discuss politics. But I warn you, any discussion involving politics requires a hard drink in my hand."
"I think you'd like something else hard," he said, giving me a small smirk.
My brow quirked. “I'm not sure where this sense of humor came from or why it seems only to come out when you're aroused, but I'm not going to argue."
Something I didn't recognize flicked in his eyes, and he pushed my hand away to grip himself, pushing the leaking head toward my mouth. "Suck."
I wasn't normally one for taking orders unless it meant the difference between life and death. I would, however, always make an exception for a handsome man, rock-hard and eager to feel my mouth on him. While he might not know it or be willing to admit it, I knew he had complete power when that happened. He might be more than willing to use his hips or his hands to move my head, but at the end of the day, it was ultimately me who held him in the palm of my hand...or my throat, to be more specific.
I leaned forward and took the head into my mouth, tasting him and the tang of soap, which told me he had made sure to bathe before bed. It wasn't as if I hadn't done the same thing just to be safe, but the simple act of caring that much about not shoving his sweaty, dirt-covered body parts into me was appreciated. Well, if it meant he was a lot more into this than he normally showed, that was for another time.
My focus shifted to bobbing my head, focusing on his taste rather than the faint soap. The key to getting someone of a noticeable size like him deep was to get at least half of him slick with spit. That also resulted in plenty of wet, sloppy sounds that made his legs tense beneath me, so I figured he didn't mind.
A soft noise escaped him, and his hand slid into my hair, pushing the last couple of inches into my throat. Normally, he kept to muted grunts and the occasional strangled growl, probably out of fear of being overheard. I had wondered if that might just be how he was or if he might be holding himself back, strangling a more expressive part of him. If this was any indication, perhaps there were some depths to be plumbed if only he were given the proper motivation and felt like he had some privacy.
Ah, to have him all alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with no other souls in sight.
For now, though, I reveled in the way he groaned as his shaft pulsed against my tongue and in my throat. There was no question he was enjoying himself, especially when I reared back and pushed him down into my throat after only going halfway. He was undoubtedly still worked up from our bit of fun earlier, which had been intended to give him some release, so it didn't happen too quickly tonight. Alas, Walter had shown up and squandered my original plan.
That was okay, though. I knew with the proper motivation, Ambrose could recover quickly for another bout.
"," he groaned as I began to work up a pace, practically using my throat like I wanted him to use something else later. I would probably be hoarse the next day, but it was well worth it to watch him squirm, his breath coming in pants and gasps. "What're you...I'm?—"
We both knew full well what I was doing, and he didn't seem to mind enough to stop me from the way he held onto the cot. The muscles in his neck strained as he gave another gasp, his cock giving another throb in my mouth, far more enthusiastic than the ones earlier. The first blast of his seed was fierce as he gave a guttural moan, hips jerking as he shoved into my throat and let the rest pour directly into my stomach.
I pulled off him, letting the remainder dribble down the shaft of his cock, watching it trail down as I pressed my mouth against his balls. I had learned they were extremely sensitive, and just running my tongue along the underside and dragging it up was enough to get a strong reaction. Even now, having just found his release, he shuddered as my tongue swirled around the sensitive parts of him.
I kept my eyes locked on him as my tongue slid up to the base of his cock, making sure he was watching. His face was flushed as he stared with an intensity that said one release hadn't been enough. Of course, I made it even worse by sliding my tongue up his shaft, catching every bit of his seed I’d let dribble onto him. Men were notoriously turned on by that sort of thing, and from the way his lips thinned and I watched his eyes widen, Ambrose was no different.
"Damn you," he muttered, pinning me to the bed on my back. It was only then I realized Bear had left, and neither of us had noticed, or at least I hadn't. Which meant there was plenty of space on the cot as he held me in place, his wet cock dangling between our bodies as he bent to sink his teeth into the muscles of my shoulders.
Pain lanced from the bite, but something altogether more pleasurable chased it with all the intensity of a hound dog with the scent of blood. I groaned, unable to stop myself as he reached down, fumbling with the strings on my pants before managing to loosen them with a yank I knew came with a snap of the strips as well, which was impressive because, whether worn or not, those were still leather. Next came my shirt, which, thankfully, I was able to help him with so he didn't rip that as well. Needing new ties for my pants wouldn't be too strange, but needing them and a new shirt would draw attention.
Once he was sure I was pulling off my clothing, he made short work of his own, kicking them off the bed before burying his face in my neck and breathing deeply. His cock slid along mine, still slick from his seed and my spit and making me shiver in anticipation. I hadn't allowed myself to wonder how he would handle things, mostly because having expectations was a sure way to find yourself sorely disappointed with reality.
That, however, was something else entirely for me. I knew he could be aggressive and dominant, but he’d never handled me like a plaything. He wouldn't be the first partner who had done it, but with Ambrose, feeling the scrape of his teeth on my skin and the way his fingers dug in was more intoxicating than anything I'd felt with a previous man.
I was left to shudder beneath him when he slid down my body, fingernails biting into the skin of my hip as he took me into his mouth with a sudden greedy slurp. My back wanted to arch, but he pushed my stomach down and held me there. He had never learned the art of taking me deep, but I wasn't going to protest as electric pleasure jolted up and down my body, driving me crazy as now I was the one left to hold on for dear life.
I was in such a haze I didn't notice when his grip eased and disappeared from my body. It wasn't until I felt something pressing against my hole that I came tumbling back to reality and picked my head up. His finger, slick from the oil I’d left on the bed in our haste, pushed inside me. I thought it was one until my body protested, and a grunt escaped me, making me realize it was two fingers.
Whatever experience he'd had in the past was enough for him to know that a little work beforehand was helpful. Then again, he had shacked up with one man for a couple of weeks. If they were going to have sex as frequently as he'd implied, they’d probably figured out that if you didn't want lingering soreness that got in the way of repeated attempts, a bit of stretching beforehand was always nice.
Considering how long it had been since any part of a man had been inside me, it was very nice to feel his digits push into me. His hand sawed back and forth as he focused on sucking the head of my cock, making me squirm and groan. I was still aware that despite the late hour, I had to be mindful of how much noise I made. When he added the third finger, I found it even more difficult and wondered how the hell I was going to manage when he finally pushed inside me for real.
He seemed less concerned about being caught or having any sense of propriety and instead kept pushing his fingers repeatedly into me. The thick fingers might have been calloused, but he had doused them in the oil, and I could barely feel anything except a little extra friction deep inside. Either that or it was my imagination, and I was left to lie there, restless and unwilling to push him away.
"God," I hissed when he yanked his fingers out, starting to turn over. "About time."
"Stay there," he growled, with more authority than before. It was aided by his hand coming down and slapping my stomach, his other hand pushing my legs back. "You're going to stay right there, in that position."
"Is that so?" I asked with a shaky laugh, realizing he was completely serious, and unless I put up a real fight, there was no way I was going to get away.
He pushed my knees back, reaching down to begin greasing himself up liberally. "I wanna see your face when I'm deep inside ya. I wanna see every time I push in, and when I find how to make ya squirm and beg, I wanna see ."
Jesus Christ, Lord above, the man wasn't even inside me yet, and I could already feel my self-control beginning to lose its already tenuous grasp. It was probably good that I hadn't thought too hard about what he would do once I had him well and truly alone. I would have been satisfied, but there was something to be said about being pleasantly surprised by his sudden surge of aggression.
And we were going to casually ignore his sudden demand to see my face while we did this.
Thankfully, he was as impatient as he was demanding and was already positioning himself, the thick, blunt head pushing where his fingers had been moments before. A sigh escaped me as I felt the muscles of my body fight the intrusion, but it was a lost fight. I was forcing myself to relax as best I could; he had already used his fingers and was now pushing forward with undeniable force.
The sound from me stopped when my muscles finally gave up their resistance, and I felt him push into me. It was as much as I’d expected, or rather, I had expected it to be noticeable and bordering on a lot. It had been ages since someone had been inside me, and Ambrose was no slouch in that department. He wasn't a lot as much as he bordered on too much.
Yet he seemed to realize that because he took his time despite his insistence on going into this with all the passion and vigor I could ask for. One advantage of him hovering over me and staring into my face was that he could see every expression that crossed it. Whenever I winced, he paused and let me adjust, and whenever I relaxed, he continued.
Eventually, his hips were pressed tight against mine, and despite the burning, something else was quickly growing, something I welcomed with open arms. It was the sensation of being filled and a pleasure that was a soft noise under it all. Yet I knew full well that if this went right, and God above I hoped it did, that soft noise would quickly grow in strength until it was all I could hear.
Sucking air through his teeth, he eased back, drawing a moan from me as his cock brushed against sensitive nerves and made me twitch in pleasure. Only for him to push forward and let out a soft gasp.
"I...hell, I’d forgotten how good this could feel," he groaned as he twitched inside me. "I think this might be better than the first time."
I let out a soft, shaky laugh. "Why don't you hold off on the assessment until it’s over? Then we can determine if it was on the same level or even better."
He shoved an arm under my waist and hoisted me up, holding me tight as he began to rock, quickly picking up speed. It intensified the burn, but it intensified the quiet noise as well. I barely managed to stifle a cry when something inside me lit up and sent a new wave of pleasure that momentarily drowned everything else. It was only by shoving my face into his arm and biting down that I was able to keep myself from alerting anyone in the vicinity of what was happening.
Yet that was all it took for the leash on his self-control to fray and break, his hips snapping forward and forcing a cry from me again. I had no choice but to keep my face pressed against his arm so my cries didn’t mingle with the sound of our skin meeting. It was a sharp sound that grew louder and harsher as he began to pummel me. I was locked in the pleasure, no longer caring if I was overheard as he picked up the pace, driving himself deep. It was only his arm pressed into my face that muffled the sound.
"Amazin'," he groaned in my ear, and the deep rumble of his pleasure was enough to make me give another soft, pitiful cry. I couldn't stop myself from reaching down and wrapping my fingers around my straining cock. As much as I wanted it never to end, I knew I’d go crazy if I didn't find my release soon. "Yeah, there ya go. Do it. While I'm inside. I wanna feel it while I'm inside ya."
Whoever told this man what should be said at a moment like this deserved a special prize. Pleasure soared to Heaven itself inside me and crashed down. My back arched, pushing myself into him to feel him as deep as possible. My face pulled away from his arm as a real cry rose and was silenced when he unexpectedly crashed our mouths together.
Pleasure ricocheted through me, but even then, I found myself locked onto the feel of his mouth against mine. It was a clumsy, hungry thing, but it still held my attention as warmth splattered over me as I spilled onto my lap and hand.
A growl echoed from deep in his chest before he shoved himself in with one, two, three more thrusts and held there. A whimper escaped me as I felt his shaft jerk against my sensitive nerves, and a new warmth pooled inside me. He gasped against my lips, nipping and sucking as he held his hips tight against me, clearly trying to seed me as deep as he could before it was all over.
And when it was over, he let out another gasp, muscles going slack and he eased back. Ambrose slipped out of me with ease and gentleness on par with the same force and aggression he’d used to push into me. I was grateful because, despite the care he had taken to prepare me and the amount of oil he had used, I could still feel tenderness down there. It would become sore in the next couple of hours, and I didn't look forward to the ache that would follow as I worked the next couple of days but still couldn't find it in me to feel the slightest trace of regret.
"So," I began and then stopped when he bent down, hesitating for a moment, and kissed me again. It was still a little clumsy, but the hunger was gone, and there was a softness there I had not once come to expect from him, especially toward me.
Even more surprising was the immediate way I responded, reaching up to cup the back of his head and gently holding his mouth against mine. A pleasure I never would have dreamed could be directed at him filled me, making my chest flutter and a pleasant twist in my gut. It was the pleasure of waking up next to a familiar lover and watching the sunlight warm their face, of watching them laugh at something I said without realizing I was watching them, and of feeling their hand brush mine, perhaps taking it to squeeze quickly before we were seen but knowing the message was understood.
Then he pulled away, and I was left well-used and confused. There was an ache in my ass that I welcomed and understood and one in my chest that I understood but welcomed far less. The last thing I needed was to let myself catch feelings for the man who was my jailer. More importantly, a man who was as opposite to me as it got and had once found everything about me antithetical to his way of life.
"Sorry," he said, and God save me, he was sheepish, and it was endearing . "That was?—"
"Better than your first time?" I asked, falling back on old habits and giving him a smirk. "At least, that's what you were saying before."
"Actually, yeah, it was," he admitted with a shrug. "Guess it's kinda hard to lie about that."
"Then I suppose that means you won't object to trying it again in the future...hopefully the near future," I said, giving him a wink.
"I suppose not."
"Really? Wow, I was expecting?—"
"What?"
"I don't know, more resistance. You were so against everything for a while there."
"Well," he said, reaching down to cup himself. "You've seen everything and felt everything, and so have I, so I guess there ain't much point in bein' fussy about it."
"That’s a very practical way of looking at it," I said, burying my surprise for his sake. I realized then I had half expected him to have a fit stronger than the first one now we had done the full deed. When faced with the reality that he’d slept with a man he could once barely stand and who led a life completely opposed to his own standards and honor code, he should have been aware of how far this had gone and found it...unpleasant.
"Why do ya make it sound strange?" he asked, a familiar disconcerted frown spreading across his forehead.
I laughed at his worry, patting his leg in what I hoped came off as reassurance. "Calm down. It's not strange...well, a little, but I don't mean it as a judgment or a joke. I just?—"
Stopping, I realized I didn't have an explanation. Of course, there was always the truth, but I was far too used to avoiding the full and hard truth when dealing with other people, especially if I thought they wouldn't take it well. It came from not wanting to upset people as a matter of principle but also because when you're trying to survive, infuriating people is a good way to find your chances of survival plummeting.
Normally, I’d have some pithy comment or quick evasion of the truth ready, and I always had when it came to Ambrose. Maybe it was because my brain was still fuzzy from what we'd just done and how well he'd done, or maybe something else was escaping my attention. Either way, I found myself at a loss, unwilling to tell the truth and unable to find a way to avoid it.
"Just...what?" he asked, not sounding irritated or suspicious but...curious.
I sighed, knowing I didn't have the capacity to come up with something clever, and that left either dumbfounded silence or speaking the truth. "Well, considering how much difficulty you had accepting everything leading up to tonight, I expected a more emotional reaction from you. And get that look off your face. That wasn't a judgment. It was an acknowledgment, nothing more."
The grumpy expression was brought back a little but remained on his face. “Can ya blame me? I'm supposed to be responsible for you as...well?—"
"As your prisoner," I said dryly. "Tell the truth, shame the Devil."
He rolled his eyes. “That's awful rich comin' from you."
I grinned. “Well, I can't argue with you there."
"But yeah, as my prisoner. It just...felt wrong."
"Does it still?"
"Well, talkin' about it kinda makes it come back some, but not lately."
I cocked my head. “And how did you make peace with it? I'm not doubting you, but you've never spoken of it until now, so I'm curious."
"What? You haven't run through everything in your head and figured it out on your own? You seem to be good at that."
"And you seem to be good at switching between manners of speech, but I don't usually speak about that."
"You bring it up at least once a day."
"Mmm, true."
He stared at me for several seconds until I realized he was waiting for my response. A little hypocritical, considering he was the one supposed to be talking, but fine, it wasn't like I didn't usually dominate conversations between us. Letting him have the reins occasionally wouldn't hurt me much. My pride was fairly sturdy.
"Look, I'm good at understanding people and predicting what they're going to do, but it's not perfect. And I most certainly can't see into the future or read minds, so there are things I'm surprised by on occasion. And..." I stopped, realizing something even as I was about to say it aloud. I ran it through my head one more time and grimaced, knowing if I backed out of saying it now, Ambrose would retreat again. "And you...have been surprising me more and more lately."
"Lately?"
"Fine, ever since that day at the river, I've been surprised by some of the stuff you say and do. Apparently, I didn't get as good a read on you as I thought, and now I'm having to learn about you the old-fashioned way."
To my annoyance, a small, crooked smile formed on his face. “From the sounds of it, that irritates you."
"A little," I admitted begrudgingly, not liking to give away my failings at something I was good at and prided myself in. Apparently, I had been stuck with this man for too long and was starting to soften, which I suppose was unavoidable, but I also knew it opened me up to many new dangers.
He seemed pleased by my answers and shrugged. “It did bother me. But I dunno, at some point I kinda figured that when it's just the two of us...when we're?—"
I had to smile. “Really? You stripped us both naked and used the living hell out of my body, but you don't even want to say it aloud? Come now, we're both grown. We’ve seen what the other has and are completely alone. I think you can say it."
He huffed. “Since we had amorous congress."
I tried hard not to laugh. “How...polite. At least you haven't started saying you've had a few brushes with me. So I suppose I can still feel a little important."
He rolled his eyes, cheeks turning red. "Since we started doing it, I had to start thinkin' of you as not bein' a prisoner or an outlaw, or what have ya when we're together. When it's us, you're just...you."
"I am all of those things, though."
"But you ain't just those things."
Interesting, he'd found a way around his moral upheaval and hadn't realized he’d done the very thing he once would have condemned me for. His strict moral code had been evaded, and he'd found a way to justify it to himself. I most assuredly was not going to be the one to point it out to him, and not just because it would ruin a perfectly good moment we were having. I also didn't want him to have another moment of moral panic when he realized he’d compromised his morals of his own free will because that kind of 'fall' could be destructive and messy.
In the end, it was the sort of thing he was going to figure out on his own, and if he wanted help, I would provide it if asked. No matter who you had around you, it was ultimately up to you to determine how you would move through the world and how you would see it. If his views and attitudes changed due to his experiences, he would have to navigate that on his own, without any pushing, prodding, or forcing from me.
"Well, that is true," I admitted. He had started off seeing me as only those things which had been amusing at first and had eventually grown irritating. It seemed more than just his attitude toward his moral stances had changed, but at least not treating me like a leper or fiend was something I could immediately enjoy. "It's nice to be seen."
He smirked, reaching down to grab me while I was still soft...though his touch certainly stirred something to life in me. “You're definitely seen right now."
I laughed. “That's not what I meant, but you won't hear me complain. Well, you might hear me gripe later when my ass is sore, and I know who's responsible for it."
"Was it...too much?" he asked, and damn it all, he was sweet and worried about my wellbeing, ruining the lusty moment and yet adding to it at the same time.
"No," I said with a little laugh, reaching down to grab him as well because if I was going to get groped, he might as well too. "Mostly because I know damn well you have free rein to have your way with me whenever you want. You were just that good."
"Mmm," he hummed. "Maybe you could stay with me tonight and slip out before sunrise. That'll give me time to have another bout."
"Oh really?" I asked with a raised brow. "How bold."
Extremely bold and probably the biggest surprise of the night, considering I expected him to send me away quickly.
"It's alright," he said quickly, suddenly shy. "No one comes in here without my permission."
"Not even your dad?"
"Hasn't once."
"Interesting...hmm, no, that fits."
"Does it?"
"It does."
"Ah...so?"
"We're going to need to rest, I haven't slept at all, and I don't look forward to getting no sleep and trying to work with a sore ass," I said and then smirked. "Even if it is an ass that's sore because it was properly used."
"Good," he said, flopping back and then scooting over to make room. "Then let's get some rest. I could use it."
Suddenly, a little unsure, I lay down beside him. He twisted onto his side beside me, shoving his face into the pillow, and closed his eyes. His hands were pressed against my arms and I could feel the heat radiating off him as he gave a small wiggle and sighed. I watched him for a moment, my brow rising slightly when I heard his breath growing deeper and rhythmic, signaling his apparent ease with falling asleep.
Add that to the list of things I envied about him, the lucky bastard.