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“Careful, there, darling,” Jackie whispers in his ear, all soft like, and Sausage shivers. He grips the edge of the bar, fingernails scratching up the wood and leaving little marks. Jackie tuts. “Well, now, our dear Graecie worked very hard to clean this place up, and you're damaging it.” He sounds so disappointed.
“I'm sorry,” Sausage breathes, instead leaning forwards on his elbows, digging his nails into his arms rather than the bar. “I'll take up extra shifts.” He promises, as repayment.
“Oh, of course you will,” He smiles against Sausage's neck. “Anything to give you an excuse to flaunt yourself up there, huh?” God, yes.
Sausage ruts his hips back once before Jackie's hand grip him so tight it could bruise, holding him still. He whines in frustration. “I suggest you behave,” Jackie threatens, even though Sausage felt the man's dick twitch at the stimulation. “I know you're a wanted man, sir.” He says, quieter.
God, it's such a strange threat. To be warned that if he doesn't sit still like a good cockwarmer, Jackie'll tell the sheriff who he is and have him locked up 'til the walls come down and they can surrender him to the county.
It shouldn't be a turn on, but the idea that he's just so much of a slut he'd throw caution to the wind, get himself arrested, just for the sweet drag of P. Scythe's dick in him. Lord, he's perverse.
Jackie leans back on the barstool, taking a sip of whatever beverage he'd nabbed from behind the bar, promising he'd leave a gold bar for Graecie before he left. His hands leave Sausage's hips, sure he'll keep still, splaying themselves out on his back.
“You ain't used to not bein' given what you want, are you, outlaw?” Jackie questions, though he clearly isn't looking for an actual answer. The answer is that he isn't. Typically his hookups are as desperate to get off as he is, and Martyn could only dream of having this level of self control.
“I'm glad to be one of, if not the only man to get you like this then so,” A hand gropes Sausage's ass. “I'm sure you'll sound so sweet taken slowly.” Sausage wouldn't know. He's never been taken slow, nor given slow. It's always been quick and desperate with him, that's how he likes it, but damn he's warming up to this.
He'd never have the patience to do this on his own. He's been sat in Jackie's lap for at least forty-five minutes, and if it was up to him he'd have came half an hour ago.
Jackie's chest presses to Sausage's back once more, shifting the man's dick inside him to press deeper. “H— How much longer...?” Sausage asks, struggling to keep his composure.
“Oh, not too much longer, you can be good and patient, can't you, lovely?” Lord knows he wants to, but it's becoming real hard for Sausage not to hold Jackie down to the seat and ride him to a well-earned finish. “Take a drink, relax, think about something else.”
How the hell can he think about something else? Jackie's pressing so close to his prostate he's running through every possible way to slightly adjust his position so it'll brush off it without the man noticing.
Sausage shakily raises his glass to his mouth, taking small sips of his gin as he was told. “There we go,” Jackie soothes, rubbing Sausage's back. “That's a good man; I tell you what, you do ten more minutes of this and that'll be it, how's that sound?” Sausage nods.
He really hopes by "That'll be it.", Jackie means he'll get Sausage off as well. But oh, it'd really make him feel like a whore if he just sat on the man's dick for an hour and got left needy and desperate having to take care of himself, wouldn't it?
Jackie gropes everywhere he can reach under Sausage's shirt all throughout those ten minutes, he holds Sausage tight against him, breathing heavily against his neck. “I'm gonna ruin you, darling.” Jackie promises, pinching one of Sausage's nipples.
“I knew you'd have slept around plenty, a man like you,” He can feel Jackie's stubble against his skin and it sends tingles down his spine. “Knew I'd need to do something to set myself apart.”
The man's hand wraps around Sausage's dick, and he sobs. He's barely even hard anymore, he's been sitting here without stimulation for that long. “Tell me when you're getting close, love.” Jackie demands as he starts to move his hand up and down Sausage's length.
Sausage has never had a handjob this overwhelming. He feels like a virgin again, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes at finally being touched after what has to be the longest time he's ever had to wait.
It'd probably be worse, were Jackie's hand dry, but Sausage is dripping, giving just enough lubrication to be passable. Jackie presses his thumb into his slit, cruelly, painfully, as his nail digs into his sensitive flesh. Sausage whimpers in pain.
“Close.” Sausage whines, and Jackie's hand is off of him before he even finishes the word.
Jackie threads his clean hand through Sausage's hair, a soothing gesture. “Good job,” He praises. “I thought you'd disobey me and get off like this.”
Oh. He could've done that, couldn't he?
Jackie puts his hand back on Sausage's dick—not stroking— squeezing him. “You just wanna be good, don't ya, sweetheart?” He— No, he's an outlaw, he breaks every rule for his own selfish desires, he kills people, he steals and— and that's not stopping him from leaning back into Jackie and exposing his neck to the man.
“Don't you?” Jackie repeats and oh God is he gonna make him say it? Jackie squeezes his fist tightly and damn does it hurt.
“Shit—” Sausage's hips try to twitch away from it, but Jackie's managed to get him into a hold where he can barely move. “I'm— I'm good. For you.” Sausage gasps, trying to get the man to let up.
He does, grip loosening to something numbingly pleasant. “For me?” Jackie echoes. “Ain't you sweet?”
Jackie lets him go, sitting back. “All right, you've done brilliant, darling. Can I get ya to bend over the bar for me?” He asks, holding Sausage's hips to keep him steady as he pulls off of his cock. Satisfyingly, Sausage can hear a barely-there noise come from Jackie at the action. It's good to know he's at least somewhat affected by this. Sausage was starting to think he was as alien as them green critters.
Sausage is a bit wobbly as his feet hit the floor, but he grips the bar to keep stable. As he presses his front to the wood, he can hear the scraping noise of the stool over the floor as Jackie stands up. Hands caress Sausage's hips and Jackie's crotch presses against his ass.
“You all right?” Jackie checks, and Sausage nods best he can. “Good man.” He says, lining up his dick with Sausage's hole once more. It's real nice, he'd felt empty without it.
Jackie thrusts into him so slowly Sausage wants to cry. Maybe he does cry. It's difficult to focus on anything that isn't the dick inside him.
Sausage likes to be fucked so hard and fast it knocks the breath out of him, and this is not that. Jackie's taking his time, though he's never still. “Please.” Sausage whines, begging for something more than this agonizingly slow pace.
Jackie laughs. “Please what? You want more? Have you earned that, sir?” He gives one harsh thrust that makes Sausage yelp. “You did good to keep me warm, and now you've earned this. Don't tell me you expected something quicker?”
Is he going to have to handle slow movement for another hour? Then Jackie will grant him the graces of speeding up? He'd think that would be the case but he doubts even Jackie has the patience for that. He hopes.
“Oh, please, Mr. Scythe,” Sausage begs, pushing his hips back against Jackie's, to entice. “I need ya.”
“You have me,” Jackie purrs. “Don't tell me you're getting greedy?” P. Scythe's hand travels under his shirt, stroking Sausage's back around his waist. He's still not going any quicker.
Sausage growls in frustration. “You're messing with the wrong man, Pyro!” He hisses, staring over his shoulder. “You don't do what I want I'll gut you like a pig.” Sausage threatens. He's just grinning back at him, like he doesn't even care!
“I'm sure.” Jackie responds, so condescendingly. Sausage might gut him now, screw getting fucked.
Though Jackie plays like he has no fear, he speeds up anyway, a pace that just barely breaches comfortable for Sausage, but he'll take it. God, why didn't he just have a gun pressed to the man's head from the start?
“That— That scare ya, Jackie?” Sausage teases. Jackie hums.
“Maybe, maybe not, but I know I'd be a fool not to take your threats to heart, sir,” Jackie leans over Sausage, chest hovering over his back so he can talk into his ear. “You just look so pretty like this it'd be easy to forget your malignance.”
How impudent. He's a big scary wolf, he can still be hostile even while his ass is being pounded! P. Scythe doesn't know nothing.
Well, maybe next time he'll be scary. Right now Jackie's wrapping a hand around his dick and it's real hard to think of anything beyond it and his need to finish. He swears if Jackie edges him again he'll hit him over the head and crack his skull open against the floorboards—
He comes into Jackie's hand— doesn't tell him when he's close (really, he was the moment Jackie started touching him) so he doesn't know when to pull away— and sobs into the bar as overstimulation is quick to creep in after so long of nothing.
Jackie isn't long after him, filling him deeply. “There we go,” the man whispers. “Happy now you've got your fill, barmaid?” Sausage nods quietly, still breathing heavily.
The man pulls out of him and sits back down on the barstool, pulling paper and cut tobacco out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “You want one?” Jackie offers. Sausage shakes his head. He's never been big on smoking.
He does watch as Jackie rolls it, so practiced and perfect after a presumed many years experience. He lights it with a match and then gets up, crouching and pulling Sausage's slacks back up for him. A kind gesture, because Sausage probably woulda just fell asleep here with them still down.
“You need an escort back home, outlaw?” Jackie asks, buttoning up Sausage's pants.
“If you're offering, I'd quite like that.” Sausage answers. He's fucking tired, and he'd love to collapse into his bed and sleep until Wednesday where he can tell the preacher all about this.
“Come on, then.” Jackie hoists him up by the waist, holding him tight (it's a little condescending, but he probably needs it). He'll come back later, clean the bar up, Graecie won't mind— she can't afford to lose her sexiest staff member anyways.