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“Howdy…” Nick drawls in his best impression of Roy's southern accent. He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, wearing the latest addition to Roy’s Stetson collection atop his pretty red-brown curls and nothing else. When the older man looks up at him, Nick tips his hat politely in acknowledgement. He smiles nearly hard enough to split the sides of his mouth when Roy’s eyes widen, the older man taking him in fully. “Partner,” Nick finishes teasingly when Roy meets his gaze once more, blue eyes darkened with lust.
The old man reads like an opened book. Nick doesn’t have to ask to know that Roy’s totally getting off on this because he can see it in the older man’s eyes. “I reckon you like what you see?” Nick asks, pushing off the doorframe in favor of stalking towards Roy, each slow step oozing with seduction. The Lawman curses, taking the Lord’s name in vain as he watches his naked lover move.
Nick’s smile softens to something a touch more seductive as he stands before Roy. The older man reaches out for him hastily, no doubt to pull him down onto the bed, but Nick quickly swats his hands away. “Nuh-ah-ah,” he chastises, “let me.” Pushing Roy down onto the mattress, the brunet quickly straddles his partner.
The older man grunts, bucking up into Nick’s warm body in anticipation for what was to come.
Nick knows for a fact that the other is exerting some serious self-control because Roy rarely lets Nick take total control of anything—more often than not on cases, but seldom in bed. Even after being partners—in more than one sense of the word—for all these months. (Or years, maybe…? Dead men don’t keep time very well.)
The air is thick, charged with electricity. The sexual tension is palpable. Nick runs out of cliches because, damn it, he's horny.
The younger man makes quick work of the Southerner’s belt, slipping it easily from the loops. He’s about to discard it when Roy sits up to touch him; his thick, calloused fingers grazing the jut of Nick’s knees before the brunet rebuffs him. “Hands to yourself, Cowboy…” Nick threatens, folding the Lawman’s belt in two and cracking it like a whip. “This’ll go a lot better if I don’t have to hogtie you.”
Roy grumbles something to the effect of, “like hell,” which Nick ignores in favor of dropping Roy’s belt onto the floor behind him and returning to his previous task.
Unzipping the Lawman’s trousers, Nick wastes no time pulling Roy’s cock free, relishing in the sounds the older man makes as he sets to work on it, stroking it the way he knows Roy loves.
Roy groans and curses in a mixture of gratitude, frustration, and arousal; the sound is deep and guttural, vibrating through the both of them. “C’mon, babe…” The Lawman grunts, thrusting his hips up into Nick’s, his cock pulsing hotly in the younger man’s hand as it puddles pre-come over Nick's fist.
Nick laughs throatily, getting his hands nice and wet as he speeds up his ministrations. The Lawman swears loudly at him like a heathen and Nick rolls his hips against Roy's, his cock sliding against the older man's easily enough with the ample slickness.
The southerner’s patience is nearly shot by the time Nick’s done teasing. Nick’s already prepared himself, which Roy always appreciates because he’s cock slips in with virtually no resistance and it's nirvana. Nick lets gravity do the work for him. He sinks down onto Roy’s cock quickly, taking the older man in one swift slide that has him shuddering when he's fully seated in the Lawman’s lap.
He feels so full. Nick can feel every inch of Roy’s throbbing cock, he thinks he can come just at the sensation of it being buried deep inside of him. But he promised Roy a show and that's what he's gonna give him.
Rolling his hips, Nick revels in the way Roy’s dick rubs just right inside, stimulating his prostate and setting his nerves on fire. Tiny shock-waves of sensation wash over him, making his skin break out in a thin sheet of sweat. The pleasure is brilliant, addictive. Nick can't believe that they can get anything done when they could just fuck for hours.
Grinning, Nick lets Roy’s hands find their way onto his hips, lets those dull nails dig hard enough into his skin to leave pink crescent-shaped marks as the Lawman urges him to start moving.
"You lookin’ for an invitation? Scoot,” Roy orders virtually growling, his accent thicker than usual. The sound sends a jolt of desire pulsing through Nick. Oh God, this was worth it.
“Giddy up,” Nick says cheekily, bracing himself with both hands planted on Roy’s broad chest before slowly lifting up, teasing his hips in shallow circles. Nick’s thighs quaver from exertion, but the view of Roy’s face contorting in pleasure is enough to keep him going.
Nick groans when the hands on his hips seize control, guiding him up and then slamming him back down hard. White hot pleasure stabs at the base of Nick's pelvis, a moan tearing itself from his chest as Roy’s cock assaults the younger man’s prostate expertly. Nick's hands ball into fists on Roy's chest and he jerks his hips in time with Roy’s to set a good, deep pace.
The room is quickly filled with their rasping moans and the licentious sound of skin-on-skin.
Roy’s hands find their way into Nick's ass and the brunet moans at the way the older man bucks up right on time. Nick takes everything Roy has to give and still demands more. This must be Heaven. It has to be.
Nick lets his head fall back and when he feels something scratch his back, only then does he remember that he’s still wearing Roy’s Stetson. Oh, god… if it’s even possible, Nick’s more turned on than before. His cock’s positively aching for release, straining and leaking pre-come between his and Roy’s stomachs. Mindlessly, he reaches for the hat and gasps when Roy sits up to grace Nick's neck with hickeys.
“Ride ‘em, Cowboy,” Roy purrs against his skin, finally realizing that this is all about how hot Nick thinks the whole cowboy shtick is.
He's rewarded for his participation. The younger man’s eyes flutter open, going wide as his mind processes the fact that, yes, Roy actually said that. Nick has all of three seconds to moan before Roy changes the angle of his thrusts, starting a brutal rhythm that makes the younger man see white.
Nick knows he can’t last much longer. He just barely starts jacking himself off when he comes, spurting thick pearlescent ribbons all over Roy’s chest, moaning his lover’s name loud enough for anyone next-next door to hear, and barely cognizant to the fact that Roy’s flipping them over. He’s lost in sensation, somewhere caught between hypersensitivity and oh, god! More… harder… oh, yes!
The mattress is cold and scratchy against his prickling skin, but Roy’s body on his is warm and sweaty and his chest is so damned furry. It barely registers that Roy’s talking to him. That he’s right in Nick’s ear, grunting garbled words of praise in his sexy southern accent. Nick’s talking too; he’s pleading in this broken, debauched little voice. He tells Roy how fucking good it feels, lithe hips keeping up with Roy’s vicious—albeit faltering—rhythm, even though pleasure at this point is teetering ever so closely to pain.
Roy comes pressing a hard kiss into Nick's mouth, emptying inside of the younger man with erratic thrusts.
In the aftermath, they lie spent on the bed; both of them feeling too boneless to move. Eventually, Nick grunts and shoves Roy off. Cuddling is one thing, but Nick isn't a goddamned cushion. Rolling over onto his stomach, Nick finally clues into the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand. Nick’s up on his elbow, turning to retrieve it when he’s startled by the Stetson being pulled off his head. "Huh?" He starts to turn over, only be trapped underneath Roy's body once again.
Nick feels his skin prickling with renewing arousal, Roy’s hands tracing a hot path along the hard plains of his stomach. "We ain't done yet," the Southerner purred.
The call goes unanswered. And so do the calls after that. It really is a wonder how they get anything done.