Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tannen had a "hideout" in almost every state west of the Rocky Mountains. In New Mexico, he had a few friends in the bootheel of the state, outside of a silver mining town a day's ride from the Mexico and Texas borders.

Laden with spoils from a train robbery, they rode into Pyramid as the skies opened up. The mountains that guarded the silver mine - and hideout - five miles south were cut off by a flash flood, forcing them to hunker down in town.

"How did we end up here during monsoon season?" Stubble mused at the rain-battered ceiling. "Being this far south in August is just askin' for trouble."

It hadn't stopped raining all night, but daybreak marginally lightened the shade of blue-gray outside the window. Marty stretched and sighed next to Stubble, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I don't know," Marty said through a yawn. He dropped his arms soundly, left hand absently grazing Stubble's thigh through the sheet. "Doesn't seem that bad."

Stubble smiled. He rolled onto his side — "Not bad at all." — and brought Marty to his lips. Tender, lazy kisses passed between them, faces cradled and legs tangled as the rain intensified for a spell. Stubble's kisses also intensified, roaming to the underside of Marty's jaw to his pulse.

Marty held him there, breathless. Stubble rolled on top of him.

"Fred…"

A gasp. Stubble slowly dragged his tongue up Marty's neck, pulled his earlobe between his teeth, and sucked.

"Oh, fu— Ohh." Marty never should have told Stubble his ears were a weak spot. Much to Marty's delight, he took advantage of it far too often.

Marty's hips rocked into the air.

"Fred, come on. We've got to get dressed." Buford didn't like to be kept waiting. "We've got to go."

"It's still raining."

"Still…"

Stubble defiantly trailed kisses down Marty's heaving chest with a growl, detouring to tease a nipple.

"We'll get dressed in a minute. I want you inside of me first."

A startled laugh straggled out of Marty, and not just because Stubble's rough cheek brushed his stomach before his mouth enveloped Marty's cock — they were morning sex people now? When did that happen?

Stubble didn't leave Marty much room to argue between the gasps and sighs he drew out of him. He licked Marty's balls and pumped his cock until his erection stood proud, tall, and ready. Stubble christened it with a wet, heavy suck.

"Fuck, man. Jesus."

Stubble chuckled and crawled atop Marty once more. He ground their hips together, brightening the hue of Marty's flushed face and drugging him with endorphins until his vision swam.

"Fill me up, Clint," Stubble whispered. "Please."

Marty did not expect the licentious pang that accompanied that word. Please. It fed his fire and blackened his eyes — it offered control. Unlike some outlaws who shall remain nameless, Stubble offered control to Marty like a partner, someone who trusted him. Someone who wanted to see him try it on and bask in how it made him glow.

Marty kissed Stubble. Hard.

The floodgates opened: desperate clawing, delectable moans, skin, skin, skin. Marty promptly put Stubble on his back, slid off the bed, and ripped away the bunched quilt and sheet between Stubble's legs.

"Yes." Stubble grunted as Marty yanked him to the edge of the bed. "Fuck, Clint." The warm pressure at his entrance was exquisite. "Fuck it. Yeah, fuck that ass. Come on."

Marty slowly lapped at Stubble's backside. Resisting.

"Say it again. Say please."

The wicked yearning in Marty's eyes made the rain pounding on the roof thunder in Stubble's chest. With a peculiar, ardent gaze, Stubble wet his lips, raised his chin, and said, "Please."

The anticipation stole two loud expletives from them when Marty entered Stubble. Marty carefully inched in to minimize the discomfort crossing Stubble's face, and he was relieved to hear a contented sigh once he was all the way in.

"Ohh, God, yes," Stubble said, erupting in goosebumps. "Oh…"

Marty was overwhelmed by their fit. Marty usually wasn't this sober when he experienced this perspective, but buried inside a person like this, the feedback was incredible. He may never fuck under the influence again.

Marty laid his weight on the backs of Stubble's thighs and leaned in through his knees to kiss him. Marty started to move, gradually generating more friction as their chaste kisses became sensual, tongues and moans mingling in one hot, wonderful space —

"Well, well."

The kiss broke abruptly. Marty's and Stubble's wide eyes fell on Buford in the doorway.

"Aren't you two cozy?"

"H-Hey, boss."

A perfect cut of lightning illuminated Buford's expressionless mug in the near-darkness before he stepped into the room. His footfalls were lost to the roll of thunder.

"Hope I'm not disturbing anything."

"Clearly, you are," said Marty.

…Was he? This was something; morning sex, to Marty at least, was rather intimate. And Marty couldn't help but feel that if Buford thought he was disturbing something, Buford hoped he was doing so.

Buford's hands smoothed up Marty's lower back and around his hips, shifting the shade of the room from a dreamy gray to a slate blue.

"What the hell do you want, Buford?" Marty asked. "Get out."

"No need to get defensive, Clint," Buford said, voice bearing down on Marty. "Have you forgotten the nature of this delicate ecosystem we've established? You have to share."

Marty's breath hitched as Buford noisily smacked his penis against the underside of his exposed ass.

"Ain't that right, Fred?" Buford barked from over Marty's shoulder.

Stubble swallowed. He discreetly put his hand over Marty's fist and squeezed, wordlessly imploring him to keep a cool head. There'll be other nights.

"That's right, boss."

Marty's mouth fell open as Buford swirled the slick head of his cock against his asshole. Buford grinned at how traitorous Clint's body was; he could play this boy like a fiddle.

"Would I not be well within my rights to exercise the same privileges you're all entitled to?" Buford murmured.

"Yeah, but just sometimes," Marty snipped with a curt non-smile, "you don't have to be a raging asshole about it."

"Watch yourself, Eastwood," Buford said. He glanced at Stubble. "Or you'll be watchin' me finish what you started. And then some. Though if I know you, I know you like watchin'."

Marty's ears grew hot. Buford spat on his cock and made it glide along Marty's asscheeks, roiling the desire deep in his gut.

"Suppose'n you'll want to remain a willing participant? Have that… asshole raged upon?"

Marty shut his eyes and bit his lip, denying Buford the noises he wanted to hear. It was a hopeless cause; they knew Marty would be a keening mess before long, but he would still fight. He always did. That was their whole thing; Buford talked dirty, and Marty crumbled into a pathetic, whimpering puddle, happy as a clam.

Marty tried to focus on Stubble again. He wet his palm and stroked Stubble's cock as he thrust into him, rekindling Stubble's fervor. All the while, the tip of Buford's thick erection wriggled at Marty's entrance without breaching – a maddening sensation that made Marty snap back at him, "God, Buford! Would you just fucking do it already?"

Marty felt Buford grin on the back of his neck.

"Say please."

Marty stilled.

How long had this fuck been watching them?

"Say please," Buford growled against another roll of thunder, "and I'll rage that filthy hole of yours so hard –"

"Please." The request was flat, mechanical. Devoid of control. "Please –"

Buford's hand clutched the base of Marty's throat.

"Like you mean it."

Marty gulped. "I-I mean it."

"Then say it!"

"Please."

"Say it again!"

"Please!"

Marty cried out as Buford impaled him. The backs of Stubble's legs supported him again, and Marty held on for dear life as Buford plowed into him repeatedly. Stubble's screams undulated off the walls, too; every thrust into Marty was a thrust into him, and Buford was going for broke.

Stubble caught Marty's face and kissed him, hoping to muffle their shouts and get them through the initial pain to that promised paradise. Soon, they were relaxed enough for the pleasure to surface and proliferate, deepening their kisses and unwinding their stiff hips. Marty found a rhythm that met Buford's thrusts and delivered his own to Stubble that all parties were amenable to.

"Fuck, Eastwood, that's it," Buford said. He reached around Marty for Stubble's thighs and molded all three of them together under a dissonant chorus of groans. "Yeah. Mm."

A strange sob leapt from Marty when Buford squeezed his testicles.

"Ah-ha! Ah…"

"You wanted it, so you got it, runt," Buford leered, pistoning sharply now in time with the rain. He sank his teeth into Marty's shoulder, sucked, and spanked. "Come on, boy! Move! Don't tell me you've never wanted to fuck us both at the same time!"

"Ohh..!"

Son of a bitch.

Marty sucked in a wheezing breath and crashed into Stubble's ass.

"Fuck!"

"Sh– Oh, fuck, Clint." Stubble's back arched. "Fuck, Clint –"

Marty's wobbling elbows barely supported him as he watched Stubble's milky spurts land on his abdomen. Marty was in danger of face-planting into it at the rate Buford was going, but if one thing could be counted upon, it was that Buford was never far behind.

"Oh, yeah, runt! Fuck!"

Buford came hard, locked into Marty as he injected him with every drop of cum he had. Marty croaked and hung his head, red-faced and weak from being so vigorously fucked.

"Here."

Stubble pulled the sheet over his stomach and coaxed Marty's weight onto him. He tucked Marty's elbow to his side and held it there as they caught their breath, a subtle, unexpected gesture of reassurance Marty clung to.

Marty shook with a shuddering gasp when Buford pulled out – and yelped when his ass was smacked again.

"You fellas enjoy the rest of your day," Buford said, putting himself away. "Flood's still too high, but we'll haul up to the mountain tomorrow, hell or high water. High water being the likely."

Marty and Stubble nodded.

"Good."

Buford left.

Marty dropped his face into Stubble's chest with a groan when the door shut.

"I'm sorry."

Stubble laughed, watching the rain for a moment. He skimmed Marty's back and asked, "Sorry for what? That's what he does. You like it, or you wouldn't put up with it."

"Yeah, but we were…" God, what were they doing? "He did that just to be an ass."

"And now he's gonna go down the hall and do it to Buck and Ceegar, too."

Marty's brow dipped at something in Stubble's tone. He sat up, wincing.

"Woah, wait." Marty had his suspicions but never asked. "Like, Buck and Ceeger? They," – he lowered his voice, pointedly glancing between him and Stubble – "'like kissing each other?'"

That got a genuine hoot out of Stubble.

"I don't know about that," he said, scooting back on the bed to light the oil lamp, "but Buck's said more than once he can't believe he's 'been saddled with that idiot'." Stubble smiled to himself. "He says it a lot like he doesn't have a say in it. Makes me think he doesn't."

Marty huffed. He supposed he'd encountered stranger things than a wily gambling man and a simple-minded horse lover.

"And Buford just… interrupts them, too?"

Stubble pressed his lips together. He shrugged.

"Buford does as he likes."

Buford does as he likes.

Marty glowered out the window.

"Yeah, well, Buford can go fuck himself next time."

He ought to like that.