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It was the cry of one of the horses in the barn that woke Moxxie up from a dead sleep. He’d been dreaming peacefully when his body seized, jolting as though it had been shocked from the inside out. It took him a moment to realize it had been a sound that had woken him and even longer to register that it had come from Perdita, his favorite mare. The arm around his waist tightened making Moxxie squeak. It seemed as though he hadn’t been the only one shaken from his slumber. Agilely he rolled from under the heavy appendage and slipped on his trousers. He didn’t have the patience to look for a proper button up and instead grabbed the nearest piece of material, a charcoal colored beater that most certainly didn’t belong to his wardrobe.
“What are ya doin’?”
A gruff rumble of words made the imp take pause. He looked back towards the bed, to the demon whose side he’d been snuggled up to, and offered an apologetic smile.
“It’s Perdita. I have to go check on her.”
Striker's eyes were closed but his mouth was pressed into a hard line. A sign of his annoyance. A barbed tail flickered out from under the comforter and draped lazily across the hit man's lap, coiling there like a serpent.
“She’s fine. Come back to bed.”
Moxxie sighed. As much as he wanted to Perdita needed him. She was a sensitive beast after all and the only rescue horse on the ranch. This wasn’t the first time she’d been spooked in the middle of the night and he was sure that this wouldn’t be the last. Shaking his head Moxxie pulled on his boots and headed for the door. The coiled tail of his partner reached out before he got too far, dragging him into a cage of strong awaiting arms. It was warm, the chest pressed against this back, and had Moxxie possessed no sense of responsibility he reckoned he wouldn't have gotten back up at all. As it were the need to fulfill his task outweighed his desire for sleep. He his dismay known with an exasperated huff. Striker's arms only tightened.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.” He whispered, unsuccessful in his attempts to unravel those arms. “Come on. It’s late.”
“Hmph. It is.”
Moxxie sighed. “You're impossible.”
All it took was a pinch to make the fiend let go. Moxxie watched him turn all the way over, the comforter sliding off his shoulders to reveal the taught muscles of his back and giggled. Striker grunted back. What a sour puss. Smugly, Moxxie popped an apologetic kiss to the grumpy imp’s shoulder and gave a condescending pat to his side. “Don't worry. I’ll be right back. You know where to find me.”
“Rhmph.”
Rolling his eyes Moxxie made his way towards the back of the house, stepping out into the warm evening with the edges of sleep still clinging to his consciousness. He pulled open the barn door with a yawn and peeked inside. He could hear Perdita’s distressed chuffs towards the back and reached for one of the kerosene lanterns hanging on the wall. She resided in one of the larger stalls as she hadn’t gotten used to the presence of the other horses yet. Moxxie had thought to give her some space so the mare could acclimate to her new environment. They needed her cooperation as they intended to integrate her into the herd. The others had already taken a shine to her. Moxxie had no doubt the process would be an easy one- so long as Perdita was willing.
Quietly he approached her stall and saw the mare make a nervous trot around of it. Her feathered mane bounced like seaweed in water, glimmering with white light beneath the cool blue of the moon. On a chair nearby was a burlap sack and to his delight he found an apple inside.
“Perdita,” He clicked out a base command and waited until she stilled before approaching. “Hey sweetie. What’s got you upset tonight? Another rodent?”
He pat the magnificent beast’s neck and watched her tail of luxurious blue and green feathers sway contently. Perdita had no eyes but she felt along the ground with her bird like claws, allowing her nose to lead her right to the fruit in his hand. Hesitantly she took it, chewing slowly until all that remained was the stem before swallowing that as well. While she did that Moxxie did a cursory glance over her. He found nothing that stood out as a cause for her behavior. No cuts, no bruises, not even a limp. He checked her underbelly and gave her knobby knees a gentle tapping. No reaction. Perdita was as healthy as she had been when Striker closed up shop for the day.
Curiously, he searched around her stall for anything that might have spooked her. Again he saw nothing. Everything was where it was supposed to be with neither hair nor hide of a loose board or rogue nail rolling about. He did his best to keep Perdita’s stall immaculate for this very reason and found himself at an utter loss. He saw no rodents, no harmful tidbits on the floor, nothing. In fact none of the other horses seemed to be bothered at all. Usually if a pest had found their way in the entire herd would have let them know.
He sighed. "Maybe Striker was right."
A gentle butt from Perdita’s muzzle had Moxxie’s heart melting.
“Never mind him. I’m always happy to come check on you.” He reached up to scratch the feathered horse’s ear and plant a kiss on her nose. “Alright troublemaker. I’m going back to bed before you get me in trouble with the man of the house.”
Perdita snorted.
“Yes, yes I know. But I did wake him up coming out here so I have to go and make it up to him. Do me a solid and not tell Bombproof? He hates my guts as it is." He leaned back to eye the furthest stall away from them, yellow orbs narrowing when he caught sight of the very awake leading steed staring back at him from afar. “I swear it’s like he’s taunting me with those eyes or something.”
Perdita chuffed.
“Excuse me. I am not afraid of him. Just because he’s a thousand times larger than I am doesn’t mean I feel intimidated.” Moxxie’s face flushed. “He’s just an arrogant meat head like his owner. Plus he reeks of sulfur.” A whinny from the other end of the barn had Moxxie leaning out from Perdita’s stall. “You heard me! Take a damn bath!”
A succession of random whinnies and snorts followed. Perdita's ears flicked and she had the audacity to give Moxxie the side eye, as if to say Damn bro, you got the whole squad laughing. Bombproof was not amused.
Eventually the stalls quieted down and Perdita was resting in her favorite position by the time Moxxie called it a night. He double checked the water trough and food rations before leaving and made a mental note to remind Striker to refill the meat barrels. Hellhorses have one helluva appetite and became outright terrors when hungry. He shuddered to think of the shit the whole damn herd would give them for such a slight.
He quietly made his way inside the house and managed to sneak into the bedroom unheard. He spied the familiar lump in bed and grinned to himself, shedding every bit of clothing except the shirt. Calculated eyes shifted over to the nightstand and his grin turned devious as he plucked up the weathered wide brim hat Striker wore religiously. He sat it over his crown, mindful of his horns, and had to bite his lip to keep from giggling too loudly. Striker hated to be woken up in the middle of the night but Moxxie knew his lover like the back of his hand. Sure enough Striker hadn’t fallen back asleep. He’d tossed and turned, no doubt checked out the window to ensure Moxxie was doing fine before settling back down. The relieved sigh he caught coming from the other confirmed it so with little preamble he plopped himself right onto Striker’s lap. The large imp let out a sound, having not expected to be sat on, and cracked open a single ringed eye.
“The hell are you doin’?”
“Performing my upmost duty to Wrath by participating in a local do-it-yourself conservation effort.”
With a grunt the hit man opened his eyes. Moxxie felt his blood sing while under his lover’s gaze, tail curling with nervous anticipation. Striker’s eyes were intense. Neon in color and ringed. A feature like no other’s. It was almost hypnotic in the way they his gaze drew people in, luring them into a false sense of security before taking them out. In the dark they glowed like fireflies and swept across Moxxie’s figure with interest. The small imp felt both content and undressed by his stare, soaking in every second of Striker’s unyielding attention.
“What the hell are you goin’ on about?”
Moxxie chuckled, pinching the brim of Striker’s hat and watching with delight as the imp's eyes latched onto the movement. “I’m saving the horses by riding a cowboy instead. Or do you think you’re up for the challenge, partner?”
And that was it. A simple ego stroke was all it took to get Striker’s hands on him. Moxxie reached up to take the hat off only to be stopped by his lover’s barbed tail. A wicked grin to follow.
“Nah. Keep it on. It’s about time I see what my little one does at this angle. Gotta say, you've got one helluva view.”
Moxxie sometimes forgot what a fucking narcissist Striker could be. Shaking his head the little imp rubbed up against his lover's pelvis, preening over the rattle of his tail. He always loved to elicit such sounds from it, even while performing the most menial of tasks. It always alerted him when Striker was near and he sometimes liked to believe that it was the sharpshooter's unspoken way of telling Moxxie he was thinking about him.
A soft purr rumbled from Moxxie's throat as Striker's hands weaved their magic, sharpened claws gliding like knife points across the plains of his belly; calloused but gentle. Little fanfare was called for as Striker had proved he was already aroused, his dick coming to stand at attention the second Moxxie showed the slightest bit of interest. Together they created a burning friction that sent heat directly to their cores making Striker's tail twitch and Moxxie's thighs tingle delightfully. Rolling his hips Moxxie continued his gyrations at Striker's behest, both claws having dropped to clasp the small imp by his hips and rocking him just the way he liked. He picked up where the sharpshooter left off and danced his claw tips up the valley of his narrow neck to the very tips of his horns. Striker made a satisfied sound, arching his hips to meet Moxxie in a way he knew would drive the small imp wild.
"You're too good at this little one." His erection strained against the bed sheet tucked between their bodies, the material becoming soaked with his arousal. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd have learned this from somewhere."
"Who says I didn't?" Moxxie asked cheekily and the sharpshooter smirked.
"Give the guy my compliments. Sure knows how to break the best of 'em in."
Moxxie thumped the center of his chest. "Quit it."
Striker wound his arms around the stilled imp and caught his frown with a kiss. Moxxie couldn't hold the expression for long and giggled into the other's mouth, smile spreading against his will as their tails tangled together. The tips of their spades touched in an unintended heart formation and Moxxie felt like he could sing with the rhythm his fluttering heart made. Outside of their home Striker wasn't much of a cuddle bug. Hand holding was practiced strictly at home and all other forms of PDA were off the table once they stepped foot off the property. That wasn't to say Moxxie wasn't allowed to hang off of him every chance he got, because Striker's ego just couldn't stand not being the center of attention, but he knew better than to expect any form of reciprocation. He wasn't troubled or upset by that fact. He accepted it as just one of the hit man's many hiccups. A single attribute in a hay bale full of better ones.
Where Moxxie was an openly affectionate being Striker expressed his care and loyalty in other ways. In subtle methods that would have otherwise gone unnoticed had Moxxie not been a keen observer. He saw it in the way Striker would watched him go about his business, standing nearby when he had a free moment so if Moxxie ever needed help he would be there. He also saw it in the way the killer for hire would bring him back trinkets from his jobs. Never a word of context, just placing it on Moxxie's night stand to let him know he'd arrived home safe and sound. In louder forms he wordlessly took over the heavy lifting around the house and left Bombproof behind for protection when their little slice of heaven came under threat. Striker was a good provider and a vicious defender when it came to the safety of the people and things he loved. Those were few and far between but Moxxie was at the epicenter of it and liked to think he knew his lover better than anyone.
He made sure to keep the kiss deep, lathering his tongue with the bitter kick of the sharpshooter's mouth.
"Tastin' good there darlin'." Striker's tongue took a lazy detour from the corner of Moxxie's mouth to his jaw, nosing the bone and breathing hot air against his lover's ear. "Betcha sound just as good.”
Moxxie moaned softly. “You really mean that?”
“Wouldn’t have wasted my breath otherwise.”
Rose gold claws snaked their way up the small imp’s form, committing once more to memory what he already knew. From the curve of his little lover’s hips to the freckle like spots that kissed the apple of his cheeks Striker knew them as intimately as he did his own stripes. Moxxie continued rolling his hips, pressing into it with a little more fervor and rewarding Striker with soft chitters of encouragement with every upward thrust that found him having holding onto the hit man. Striker's erection stood at attention between them, straining against the sheet, and Moxxie reached down to stroke the head. Striker bristled, claws flexing with the threat of puncturing whatever they came in contact with. Feeling goaded by his response Moxxie peeled back the sheet.
Striker's erection was rose gold in color and substantial in size. A perfect specimen of the male anatomy (in the small imp's not-so humble opinion). It didn't surprise him that Striker watched him staring at it, going as far as throwing back both arms behind his head. His chest rose in a boastful sigh. Arrogant son of a bitch. Pulling free his own erection Moxxie wasted no time connecting skin, very much enjoying the sight of that sly smile twitch.
"Fuckin' tease."
Moxxie purred as the sharpshooter sat up and tugged a little desperately at the charcoal beater, raveling the end in his fist and giving it a hearty yank upwards. Soft vermilion flesh was revealed underneath. Supple and smooth. Striker's tongue came out to grace the other's narrow chest. Muscle, breast, and nipple all receiving equal attention. Moxxie wrapped his hands around the back of Striker's head and held him close, fingering his claws through Striker's short hair in a bid to keep him where he was as the fire in his loins centralized, twisting unabashed and covetously within.
Striker's claws were in the perfect position to lift his greedy little lover up further onto his lap, to end this gluttonous spell he cast over him, but Striker didn't earn his stripes for being impatient. Allowing his claws to curl he watched Moxxie's expression of fluster as his hands gripped and soothed the flesh of his rump. Need outweighing his embarrassment Moxxie moaned his appreciation. It felt quite nice to be manipulated this way.
"You sure know how to make a man feel like a man, little one."
Moxxie's face hedged on turning completely pink. Praise. So very rarely given to him. The simple phrase had him leaking and as a result mixed their essence into a single wet mess shared between their groins. They continued this dance of stimulation for some time, hearts picking up in tandem as erotic fantasies unique to their tastes ran unfiltered through their minds. Moxxie's tail lashed restlessly and Striker loved watching him squirm. The bulk of his little one's shirt was still tangled in his and used it ti push and pull the other, waiting to see if the hat would tumble but it stayed stubbornly in place. With a powerful upshot he made the small imp lose his balance. The small imp had scrambled and settled for sinking his claws into Striker's chest in a bid to remain upright. This bearing placed Striker at the perfect position just under the base of Moxxie's tail and his mouth watered at the prospect. Moxxie's erection fell atop the hit man's stomach, smothered in their unified scents, and continued to drip unrestrained. It was an unholy sight.
Moxxie felt a firm wetness resting at his backside and bit the inside of his cheek. Anticipation was the spear with which he willingly thrust himself upon and he knew even at the surface level that he'd do so again. It was Striker's hand that found Moxxie's erection before he could do anything with it and the small imp let out a surprised squeaked. The feel of those calloused hands wrapped around his length inspired feelings of restriction and control, and the scales tipped heavily in favor of one making the little imp writhe. This was supposed to be his idea but with so intense a touch he couldn't be bothered to remember that fact. Striker angled his lover so that when they joined the process wouldn't be quick. Moxxie mewled with every teasing stroke. He chased it, of course, but Striker enjoyed the myriad of expressions his partner was making too much to let it go.
"Lookin' good there darlin'."
Moxxie smiled breathlessly. He couldn't generate the words necessary to hold a conversation. Just another one of those things Striker was so adept at.
"You look about ready to go for a ride." Striker's growl sent shivers right down to his hooves. "C'mere."
When Moxxie took Striker's outstretched hands the body beneath him shifted. The head of the hit man's erection pressed between his cheeks and the imp, unintentionally, snagged skin with his claw tips. Blood beaded to the surface around Striker's knuckles. His pupils dilated from the fresh bloom of iron and his snake like tongue made an appearance, lapping at the lines of anxiety painting his little lover's face. Moxxie's expectancy and impatience tasted incredible. Somewhere in the background his tail rattled. He was an animal poised to strike, hungry for the kind of satisfaction he promised. The head of his member teased Moxxie's crevice to the point of bringing the mall imp to uncontrollable shudders. When it caught Moxxie was pressed forward on his knees, away from any form of penetration, and forced to only acknowledge the unmoving head. Striker frustratingly kept Moxxie from pulling back and planting himself right on top of it.
"This... is..."
"Amazin'?"
"Frustrating." Moxxie sneered, flashing the tips of his sharpened teeth.
Striker chuckled, the sound rough and rattling affectionately from somewhere deep in his chest. "Breakin' in a wild one takes time. Patience. Takes a... steady hand."
The sharpshooter manipulated their arms until Moxxie's center of gravity dropped him just inches from his face. His little one's eyes were in a haze of sultry curiosity. He could have stared into those yellow depths for days, constructing theories and wayward conclusions that could never quite fit the reason why he had turned his back on vengeance and instead pursued the mundane life of a freelance hit man. He thought the answers might come to him in the form of a sudden epiphany but Striker remained as he always had been by their connection, charmed and bewildered. Wanting what he shouldn't. What he thought he didn't need to make it in this life; support, criticism, perspective- just to name a few.
Moxxie made life interesting. Striker kept shit in line; but it was together that they made their bottom-of-the-barrel existence in Hell worth living.
Striker couldn't be more honored.
Having come to the end of his teasing Striker used his tail to further support his feather lite lover. Moxxie's eyes fluttered shut. He knew what was to come and the hit man would deliver. Slowly, almost at a lethargic pace, Striker began the torturous journey into the sanctuary into his body. Moxxie let out a gasp of relief. He'd been waiting for this for what felt like centuries and the respite, which had been excruciating, finally abated. The journey inside was made possible by the ejaculate that coated his length, easing the way into Moxxie's passage until one gratifying thrust later he bottomed out. The little imp threw back his head, reaching up to grab the hat before it tumbled off and fought to catch his breath. He peered down between pinched eyes to see his lover watching, devouring each and every expression he made. Almost contemplative in the way his eyes raked over. The stretch was exquisite. The burn present but nowhere near as daunting as their first time had been. Smiling, Moxie reached down to touch Striker's face. The hit man fell into his palm, sighing.
The words weren't spoken but they was felt just the same.
Moxxie gave the first experimental thrust, pleased to see the calm demeanor of his lover break as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Striker returned the favor savoring the other's cry of elation. Together they set a comfortable pace giving each other a chance to adjust to the intensity. Moxxie bounced on Striker's lap like a wanton hussy, hips maneuvering with care while sinking claws into the center of his lover's chest. There he had nothing but flesh to hold onto. No tether to keep him from flying away. Striker hissed from the pinch of his little lover's claws and increased the power behind his gyrations. He'd give the little fella the ride of his life.
Pleasure burned like fire, incinerating thought and scattering the ashes. In that moment all they could focus on was each other and the building pressure their lovemaking created. Moxxie held fast to the weathered hat and hurdled his way unrepressed towards completion while Striker remained as observant as he could. His mind was muddled with pleasure, splitting his attention between wanting to feel up those delicious red thighs and tossing his lover back onto the bed and showing him how a real man got the job done. Moxxie made deciding which he wanted to do all the more difficult. The little fiend rode him like a professional. Up and down, taking all of Striker's arousal in single hardy swoops. If there had been more he was certain Moxxie would have taken that too. Like his mind and his heart, his body was lost to the incredible things Moxxie did. He was content staying where he was so long as this feeling never stopped.
The rhythm of their thrusts came to a head when Moxxie's pattern suddenly faltered. His member was soaked and hard as a rock against Striker's stomach. He looked about ready to burst. The movement, the teasing, it was all becoming too much. Striker gave one last thrust, allowing Moxxie to sink as far as he could go before rolling them them and taking the lead. Tail rattling behind him Striker took hold of the head board and pistoned into his partner's willing body. With increased momentum and the change of angle Moxxie felt the rod inside of him dive deeper than ever before, stealing his breath and making his heart pound. His legs shifted to pin Striker's waist to his own with no intention of letting go and the sharpshooter let him. Moxxie threw his arms back to rest flat against the head board, partially to protect his horns from butting into it but mostly to gouge the wood. Past marks marred the spot where Moxxie's hand fell, claws digging brand new grooves amongst the older ones which told an explicit tale of their very healthy sex life.
Moxxie chittered and sang his praises with soft grunts and whispered mantras of "Please don't stop" and "Take it all".
"Never stop." Moxxie begged.
"Don't intend on it darlin'. I'll keep on so long as you're game."
He knew Moxxie meant more than that. He hoped his little lover understood the double meaning of his words. He'd never stop what was between them so long as there was life in him. So long as Moxxie wanted it. A selfish part of him wanted this even if Moxxie didn't but that was a demon for another day. For now, in this moment, they had each other.
Release evaded Moxxie until his body simply couldn't take it. His erection, trapped between their bellies, gave an eager jolt and the little imp's eyes began rolling into back of his head. Orgasm hit like an avalanche, knocking the wind and intelligence right out of him. He let out a cry as the first spurt exploded out of him, coating skin and staining the sheets beneath them. The muscles of his rear squeezed and Striker was caught off guard by the flexing grip. The hit man's orgasm followed soon after, joints locking and hips driving so hard and so deeply into his lover one would have thought he was trying to change the fundamentals of biology by sheer will alone. Striker pushed his release in as far in as it could go, shaking and tearing into the sheets in the aftermath. He looked to Moxxie and watched in fascination as his little one drowned in splendor. His hair was a tangle mess of white, face and stomach flushed and painted upon by a sticky mess of cum and sweat. The smell of their coupling hung in the air and it was a glorious.
"That was-"
"Amazin'?" Striker preened.
"Satisfying."
Striker blinked. Satisfying? Just satisfying?! Striker shot him a look but his coming response was halted by the tender kiss the small imp pressed to his cheek. Striker sighed. The little shit.
Reaching out to the sharpshooter Moxxie cupped his face. Striker, for all he was worth, couldn't resist planting a kiss to his palm. It always made his little one beam. Once more he dove in for a kiss, this one as messy and as hungry as he had been when they first started. Moxxie moaned, compliant, but exhausted. After such a realm shattering orgasm he didn't think he could take another round so soon. Thankfully Striker didn't push for more and instead rolled off his spent lover, holding out his arm. Tiredly the little imp rolled into Striker's side, resting his head over the other's chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beat. Striker's claw tips caressed the plains of Moxxie's back, making him twitch and shift pleasurably. They remained like this for nearly fifteen minutes, enjoying a quiet existence until the hit man's tail tucked affectionately around them both. The tall imp sighed contently, snuggling in deep until the warmth and the presence of his lover lulled him back to sleep. The happiest smile was spread across Moxxie's face.