Archive of Our Own

Javier rode back into camp, his gaze slightly worried. He looked around, but most of the people were either already asleep, or too drunk to function, as it usually went down this time of night. He caught a glimpse of candlelight inside Dutch’s tent, as well as a stretched out silhouette on Arthur’s makeshift bunk, but he hesitated. His eyes involuntarily went further, and then suddenly stopped on the lonely man carrying a saddle… Javier clicked his tongue and guided Boaz towards him.

Kieran saw it and stopped, used to people wanting things from him without really asking. He looked up at the Mexican, kind of curious, kind of wary. Even in the dim moon’s light he appeared preened and collected, cleaner and fresher than most people from the gang. His clothes were always so pristine, even after weeks of living outside; Kieran often saw him polishing his boots, their golden tips always shiny. Everything he did and was had that soft, feline grace that Kieran never even wished to replicate.

And now the man was coming his way. People haven’t really trusted him yet, not enough to be nice at least, and so he was usually met with cruel teasing. Javier was never as bad as… well, some people, but he was never overly kind, either. They haven’t really talked much, both having enough on their minds to not feel the need to make friends with each other. 

“Hey, you doin’ somethin’ important, Kieran?”

Alright, that was weirdly kind and serious to call him by his first name, rather than teasing about him being an O’Driscoll. It was a nice change, but changes never came from nothing; especially not during the night, coming from a clearly nervous guy.

“Not really, no?” He shrugged, keeping caution. Although he didn’t expect that from Javier, there were instances of people being nice to him just to lead him into a humiliating trap afterwards. “What’s happened?”

Boaz jittered nervously, clearly picking up its owner’s emotions and as Kieran wasn’t really sure of Javier’s state beforehand, now he was pretty sure something happened. The boy rested the saddle on his hip, cocking his head to the side. Something, but what was it exactly?

“Well…” Javier winced, threw a look towards the camp, then sighed and slumped his shoulders. Kieran almost scoffed at the theatrics. “Okay, see, I think Bill was caught and I need help getting him out, but I don’t think it’s, uh, necessary to wake up anyone or instigate panic.

Kieran raised his brows. That was unexpected; from Bill being caught, through Javier needing help, to him asking Kieran, of all people, for aid. 

“And you want me to go with you,” he tried to clarify, a little dumbstruck. “Why?”

It’s not that he and Bill were friends, quite the contrary. Williamson was one of the worst fellers in camp: constantly rude, demanding and overall creepy with how he smacked his lips and squinted his eyes, weirdly ogling people with that look. And to make the matter worse, he used to threaten Kieran with cutting off his balls with gelding tongs - that certainly didn’t bring them close.

“You’re the only one that’s not asleep, drunk or on guard duty,” Javier hurried to explain, a slight annoyance rumbling in his voice. “Come on, get on your horse and let’s go! I’ll give you a better gun and all, just…”

“You sure I won’t get in trouble?” Suspicion crept up Kieran's words. He didn’t need another cruel joke, and he could very well see potential for one here. Get him out of camp, accuse him of running away… who would’ve believed him instead of Javier? Instead of anyone? At this point even Jack had more reliance than Kieran!

“Yes, I’m sure, I’ll vouch for you, whatever! Now we have to go, I have no idea how long we have before they take him to town to get the prize,” Javier’s outburst made Boaz jump nervously. Kieran wasn’t really sure if the anger was aimed at him, at Bill, or maybe at the unfortunate bounty hunters. “Sean will vouch for you too, right, Sean?” He raised his voice and stretched an arm towards the camp. Kieran looked over his shoulder, perfectly in time to see a giggling Irishman leaning over the table, his eyes clouded with alcohol, slurring something incomprehensible. He couldn’t vouch for what his name was in this state, much less on a not-so-trustworthy-yet guy that was leaving camp in the middle of the night.

“I can vouch,” John's raspy voice startled them both. He walked around the bushes, a Repeater hanging loosely from his hand. “Would rather have the O’Driscoll save Bill with someone watching his back rather than him watching over camp alone. If anyone notices, I’ll calm them.”

Kieran smiled sourly at the man. “Thanks,” he answered politely instead of bitching at the lack of trust. There was no use in turning people against him, and honestly he wasn’t that bothered with it all. After all, they had a reason, even if it was a dumb one.

He left the saddle on the hitchpost and turned towards Branwen. As unpleasurable as Bill was, and no matter the cruel approach he always represented, Kieran didn’t want him to hang. He supposed he could trust Javier and John enough to leave camp for a few hours and not risk being killed for treason when he came back.

****

They rode quickly, Javier leading the way and Kieran following shortly after. Duffy looked around, fascinated with freedom that was presented before him. Since they let him off that tree, he left camp twice - once to buy new clothes and once to get some horse necessities from the Stables. Other than that, he was always expected to stay where people could see him, even if he just wanted to take a piss. It invited mocking jokes and laughs which were a little funny at the beginning, but quickly turned annoying.

So now, with only Javier near, Kieran felt weirdly free. He could even try and escape, run off god knows where… but that would be stupid. The van der Linde gang was sometimes hard to bear, but he liked those people and didn’t want to go back to the O’Driscolls. And they would find and kill him eventually if he left, no doubt. At least with the gang he was fairly safe.

After some time Javier slowed down. Somewhere further, in the forest, a campfire lightened up the trees. Kieran also stopped, moving his fingers over the holstered revolver. Dutch had let him carry a weapon, which was a nice olive branch, even if the camp rules clearly stated that nobody ought to draw in camp, and Kieran didn’t really have anywhere else to use it.

“I, uh… never saw you shoot. Are you good?” Javier asked, jumping down from the horse, like a particularly agile cat. 

“Kind of, not even close to Arthur though,” Kieran snickered back. “But I’ve killed some folk.”

“Wanna use the big thing?” Javier pulled out a shining rifle. Kieran whistled quietly, impressed. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

Kieran reached for the gun, but when he gripped the handle, Javier didn’t immediately let go. He leaned a little closer, his gaze serious.

“I trust you, okay?”

Kieran nodded, similarly serious. Javier gave him a squeeze on the hand, and then they both headed for the enemy camp.

It took a few minutes, but finally they arrived. One last line of bushes and rocks separated them from the six men that gathered around the campfire, all in various stages of drunkenness, ranging from a slight intoxication to one that laid on the bedroll in a similar state to Sean back in camp. Alright, and Bill... Kieran had to squint his eyes to see him, tied to a pole behind the fire, in a peculiar position Kieran didn't really understand, kind of blinded by the flames. Williamson writhed and struggled, but the men only laughed.

“Ah, it’s getting old,” one of them slurred. “Let’s get the bounty in the mornin’, eh?

A murmur of agreement rolled through the bounty hunters. Kieran looked at Javier, waiting for a sign, rifle at the ready. The Mexican pulled out his own carbine repeater, his eyes determined. It’s a good thing he didn’t wait with the rescue, otherwise Bill would be doomed.

“Ready when you are,” Kieran whispered. Javier nodded and raised his gun.

For a second there was only the sound of crickets, drunken slurs and Bill’s protest. Kieran steadied himself, the gun still, not trembling an inch. Being a former O’Driscoll had its good sides, too. Colm preferred his people able to shoot, even the less important workers.

Javier pulled the trigger and Kieran immediately followed. Two of the men fell down almost immediately, their brains blown out and skulls shattered. The remaining ones shouted something, surprised at the swift attack, but they didn’t have a chance. Bullets ripped through the air, reaching flesh and painting camp red. Kieran gave shot after shot, weirdly calm within the action which he didn’t have any since that memorable time when he saved Arthur’s life. It felt… almost nice. Nice to be useful in a different way than shoveling horse shit, however much he did like horses.

Finally the last man fell down. Kieran let out a breath and stood up from behind the cover; Javier reloaded the repeater and also stepped into the light. Bill, still tied up on the other side, spat at one of the corpses.

“Said you’d get what you deserve, fuckers! Javier, I knew you’d come!”

“Were you out of your goddamn mind?” The Mexican answered instead, scrunching up his nose. “Talkin’ around about who you are, just like that? You’re lucky I knew where they went, or you’d be hanging tomorrow."

“Yeah yeah, sure. Now untie me, my back is killin’ me.”

Both Javier and Kieran walked around the campfire, stepping over the dead bodies, to approach Bill. Finally the light was out of the way and they could see him well enough to suddenly stop.

He was tied in… a very weird way, one that Kieran just couldn’t take seriously. His arms were raised up and the elbows bent down in a way where his forearms went behind his head, and the thick rope tied his wrists to the pole, making his chest and stomach stick out. He kneeled on the damp earth, his knees spread to accommodate the weird position. He was dirty all over, but a weird muddy patch right in the middle of his crotch stood out. Kieran forced himself to look back up at his face. Bill’s cheeks burned red, clearly embarrassed to be found like that, but very much trying to pretend all was good.

“Untie me now,” he ordered, but how could it be taken seriously? His strained voice didn’t even sound like a demand, more like a pathetic begging of a man who knew he was at the mercy of those who came. Kieran couldn't help but smirk. He immediately covered his face with a hand, but Bill saw the grimace and reddened even further. “Untie. Me!”

Oh, and not so long ago Kieran was the one tied this way, his hands unavailable, pants pulled down, balls shrinking in the fresh air, Bill coming up with a wicked grin… oh, how the tables have turned.

He breathed deeply, gulped down the smile and reached for the knife, but when he took it out and took a step towards Williamson, he glanced at Javier, remaining a little at the back. It only took a split second, but something made them understand each other perfectly, an unspoken, wicked idea blooming between them.

Kieran slowly put down the knife, the smirk creeping back up onto his lips. Bill furiously puffed out the air, fear and something glistening in his eyes.

“Ya think that’s funny?!”

Javier snickered at the pure, pathetic desperation that ringed in Bill’s voice. Kieran thought that maybe the preened cowboy wasn’t that bad, even if too tidy and sometimes a little distanced.

“A little, yeah. The way you… you know… bend,” the Mexican waved his hand, clearly trying to keep his laugh at bay. “Always so loud and imposing and manly, now not so much, y’know?”

Bill fumed and strained against the restraints, pushing out his chest, heaving and snarling, but the rope held him tight. He couldn’t get free without help, not at all, and he knew it. Kieran’s face lightened up.

“I wonder if they have gelding tongs somewhere here,” he muttered as if to himself, but loudly enough for both men to hear him. While Javier laughed, Bill’s face pushed the redness to its extreme, resembling a particularly ripe beet.

“This shit ain’t funny, untie me now, O’Driscoll!”

But Kieran put the knife back into the sheath and took a step closer, towering over the man. He was taller than most of van der Linde outlaws, but often slouched and overall made himself appear smaller; he learned that it was the best way to be perceived as meek and docile, helpless and harmless, which in his predicament was quite useful. But now he didn’t have to pretend, not when Bill couldn’t do anything about that. He moved even closer, his crotch at the height of Bill’s face; he slowly raised his hand and brushed the fingertips over Bill’s cheek. The man stilled like a frightened animal, his eyes widening… and then he chomped, missing the finger only by a few inches.

Kieran yanked the hand back, but only snorted, having expected a reaction like that. He considered the man below him for a few seconds, then took away his hat and threw it on the ground. 

“Hey! It’s…”

But Kieran didn’t really care what it was. His hand shot up, tangling the fingers in the thinning hair, then pulling the head forward, making the man stretch and look up.

Bill whimpered.

Kieran smirked, both at the sound and the immediate burst of anger and thrashing that followed.

“No wonder you’re such a dick,” he murmured, his usually friendly eyes quickly darkening. “You need someone to put you in your place, huh?”

As the words left his mouth, he suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone. He blushed slightly and looked around back at Javier, but the man only observed them with raised eyebrows. He slightly raised both his hands, then shrugged, as if allowing him to continue.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, friend,” he sneered. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Kieran breathed in relief, then turned back to the stretched man. It seems he wasn’t the only one who had enough of Bill’s rude shenanigans.

“Javier, don’t let-”

But he couldn’t finish. Kieran gripped his face, pushing his cheeks like a fish, then leaned closer, blocking out the campfire’s light. He stayed like that for a few long seconds, relishing the fear and the hateful arousement that flickered in his eyes. 

“Didn’t tell ya to speak, did I?”

“Jav-”

He couldn’t finish once again, but this time it was worse, because the name turned into a full-on moan when Kieran pushed his boot deep into Bill’s tense crotch, right where the muddy patch was. He wiggled the toe, resting it on an achingly hard shaft, and Bill froze… or at least tried to freeze, because his hips moved on their own in small, desperate bursts, chasing the forbidden pleasure. 

Kieran let go of the hair and, still pushing his foot down, let his fingers wander around Bill’s hairy face. The beard was rough and prickly, the skin warmed up from embarrassment. Although he didn’t bite again, he snarled like a wild animal.

“Ffff… ffuck off…” 

Kieran withdrew the boot, but left the hand cupping the kneeling man’s face. He remembered all the times when Bill was a pain in his ass; teasing, laughing, scaring with cruel jokes. Playing with the red-hot tongs near his parts… but he wasn’t going to be like Bill, wasn’t going to take what wasn’t his, without any regard for the other person.

“Tell me stop and I will free you, we will go back to camp and nobody will ever hear anything of what happened.”

Bill scowled at him from below, his lips trembling, his hips searching for the pleasure that wasn’t there anymore. Kieran raised an eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” the kneeling man groaned again.

Kieran squinted, then smiled. However aggressive, that wasn’t a “stop”, but just to be sure, he gave Bill a moment to reconsider his answer. Only when the man still only scowled, his hips twitching slightly, did Kieran slowly put the shoe back on his crotch. It elicited a muffled moan and more jerky hip movement.

“Funny. I always thought you were the… well, bullying type,” Kieran said, observing how Bill rutted on his boot, a small wet patch appearing on the dirty trousers. 

“Oh, he is,” Javier laughed, weirdly close. Kieran twitched and looked to the side; Javier stood close, his dark eyes big and curious like a cat’s, focused on Bill. “Everywhere except for when it comes to this. I think he deflects like that.”

“I ain’t an invert,” Bill managed to stutter out, still rubbing on Kieran’s sole.

Kieran and Javier exchanged meaningful looks, immediately recognizing that they didn’t really care about the whole “invert” thing. Kieran moved the boot around experimentally, trying to see which position indulged Bill the most.

“Sure, and you ain’t hard either,” he laughed, watching how the man chased the pleasure.

“Careful. He might come just like that,” Javier warned, also smiling. He was standing so close that Kieran could smell the fresh cologne, see every crease on the poncho, every hair of the neat moustache. So close that Kieran could brush his hand over his, touch the soft fingers…

He chickened out, but wasn’t really sure if Javier noticed, either the slight movement he made or the hesitation that followed.

Bill groaned, clearly right on the verge. Kieran moved the leg back, making him push his hips so far he looked like some kind of a pole-dancer, and then even further away, so that even fully stretched, he couldn’t rub on the sole any longer.

“Shit… shit, O’Driscoll… Bring it back, you…” Bill heaved, but it was no use. 

“Ah ah ah, amigo, we went over it,” Javier suddenly chimed in. “If you want something, you have to ask nicely, eh?”

Bill reddened again, maybe because of the beckoning, maybe because of the strain that was put both on his body and mind. 

“I ain’t askin’ nicely for anythin’ from a filthy O’Driscoll!”

Javier clicked his tongue and shook his head, but it seemed he expected it. Kieran looked at him, then at Bill, then back at Javier, his mind running.

“You both…”

Javier grinned, flashing his teeth, a playful glimpse in his eyes, the body leaned back and relaxed. He… looked really hot like that, Kieran caught himself on the thought. For a second there he envied him, all the neatness and comfort he had without seemingly trying, not mentioning clearly something that he had going on with Bill.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t expect it, that’s all,” Kieran replied, curiosity lingering somewhere in his voice. He turned back to Bill, still red as a beet, trying to reach Kieran’s leg with his crotch. “I suppose you really got a problem with bein’ nice.”

Bill’s eyes burned with defiance, so weirdly clashing with how he moved and acted, that Kieran wondered if the man really didn’t consider himself an “invert” as he named it. Such a dissonance made him snicker.

“I ain’t beggin’,” Bill growled, his voice almost cracking. “I ain’t…”

“Of course, you’re too big of a man to beg,” Kieran touched the tip of his shoe to Bill’s crotch, then took it away. He repeated it a few times, a dumb smile appearing on his lips as Bill whined in desperation, but kept his lips sealed, unable to stutter out any pleading.

“There are other ways to ask for something,” Javier pointed out. “Say, Kieran, would you like your shoes shinier?”

It was such a nice little thing, calling them “shinier” instead of “shiny”, that a warm feeling shot through Duffy’s lower stomach. His boots, compared to those of Javier, were disgusting at worst and filthy at best; worn down, scratched, covered in blood and mud and probably horse shit, too. He didn’t have time nor felt the need to take better care of them, as they always eventually got dirty again, but now he seriously considered it. Javier’s neatness was weirdly enticing and contagious, making Kieran want to be as clean and dandy as the other gunslinger.

“Sure, I guess.”

“Wait up then, I’ll get the kit.”

When the Mexican left, Kieran looked down at Bill and smiled slightly. The man desperately tried to hide his red face, his whole body strained, trembling. Kieran slowly put down the shoe on his clothed erection, then quickly took it back. Then he did it again and again, enjoying the small show.

Javier came back after a short minute; he moved in closer, his right side of the body tightly touching Kieran’s, so that they both stood before Bill. Duffy stiffened at first at the unexpected touch, but then relaxed, enjoying the fresh smell, the warmth and the softness of the poncho. The backs of their hands touched. Kieran’s pinky twitched.

Javier looked down at Bill, a little smile wandering on his lips, but his eyes were dark and stern. He held a small leather bag under the left arm, fingers loosely playing with a small knife. Bill stilled, multiple different emotions running through his face, ranging from violent arousement to hateful uncertainty. 

“The man just saved your life, amigo.” Javier’s voice was calm and steady and weirdly dominant, but it fit him. “The least you can do is help him a little, yeah?”

Bill growled something incomprehensible, then moved around a little, and then his eyes dropped, and the growl turned into a mumble. Javier glanced smugly at Kieran, who observed the men carefully. Their hands were still touching. Shit, Javier’s skin was so warm and soft and-

“Alright. I’ll cut you free then,” Javier turned the gaze away, making Kieran breathe out shakily. Was it the touch or the voice that he used with Bill beforehand? Kieran had no idea, but his pants were getting tighter each second. 

The Mexican circled Bill, then cut away the ropes with a smooth swing. Bill’s arms fell down, Javier crouched and his legs were free, too. He slowly massaged his sore wrists, leering at Kieran from below, browns frowned, eyes still a little clouded, considering. It didn’t escape Duffy’s attention that he tried to reach for his erection, but then threw a quick look towards Javier and gave it up.

“Well, find somewhere to sit, O’Driscoll,” Bill grunted, once again glancing at Javier, who observed him calmly in return, idly playing with the knife. “Or don’t. I wouldn’t mind ya fallin’”

Kieran looked around, then turned to one of the logs that laid around the campfire. He sat down, following Williamson with a curious look. Bill stood up shakily, tried to brush himself off, but all the dirt seemed to be stuck to the pants for good, at least until he washed them, which honestly wasn’t going to be soon. He mumbled something, snatched the kit from Javier and approached his hat, still laying on the ground. He picked it up, shook it out and put it back on his head, then he slowly approached Kieran.

For a second there Duffy thought that the man was going to do something bad, like jump at him and strangle him to death for the humiliation just from a moment before, but Bill only huffed and kneeled down on one knee, throwing looks from under the hat brim.

“Stupid, this is all so stupid,” he mumbled, but opened the kit and took out the long brush. “Stupid O’Driscoll with his stupid fuckin’ dirty boots…”

Something about the constant virulence mixed with obedience made Kieran twitch in his pants again; he slowly palmed himself through the rough material, feeling the growing hardness, which only increased when Bill took his shoe by the heel and placed it on his thigh, starting to brush all the filth.

Javier walked up to them silently, dark eyes shining in the campfire’s softening flames, focused on Kieran. He circled the log and stood behind the former O’Driscoll, the warmth of his body loud and clear on Kieran’s back. Suddenly the boy felt a soft touch somewhere around his neck; a bolt of a shiver went up his spine.

“You missed a spot,” Javier coached Bill. “On the left.”

The man grumbled, but obediently followed the tip. Kieran almost didn’t register it, though - he could only focus on Javier’s hand playing with his hair, slowly creeping towards his face. He moved towards the touch, relishing the warmth, then stifled a weird sound that wanted to escape his lips. Was that a moan, a squeal? He wasn’t sure, but it made him go crazy. 

“I can’t really figure you out, y’know?” Javier whispered, leaning over Kieran’s side, putting up the other hand to caress his shoulders. “You look down at him with that predator look in your eye, tease and laugh at him, then you shiver and blush when I touch you. What are you?” a genuine curiosity ringed in his voice.

Kieran’s breath trembled a little, hearing the man speak so close to his ear. He tightened the grip on the log, then looked at Javier to the side, a nervous smile on his lips.

“I dunno,” he breathed. “I guess I just have a thing for neat Mexicans that make bigger men clean one's shoes without a chirp.”

“Chirp, I’ll give ya a fuckin’ chirp…” Bill mumbled, aggressively brushing the shoe tip.

“Ayy, slower, amigo,” Javier intervened, displeased. “You want to do a good job, yeah? Go over the heel again and take your time.”

Then he turned back to Kieran, juggling the two conversations - and two men - with practiced ease that made Kieran wonder how often he did such things.

“Neat Mexicans, eh?” He purred, leaning even closer, so that Kieran felt the steady, warm breath on his neck. His soft hands slowly wandered over to Kieran’s chest. “Good thing I’m both, right?”

“Right,” Kieran answered quickly, too quickly. His breath got quicker, heart beating faster and faster each second. He didn’t remember the last time he was that flustered, maybe when he was a stupid horny teenager that deemed every tit and bulge attractive. “Uh, Javier… can we kiss?”

Oh. Maybe he has grown out of being a teenager, but apparently not out of being stupid and horny.

Fortunately Javier’s laugh wasn’t mocking, but endearing. He moved further, leaning over on the log and turning Kieran’s head, so that he could touch his lips with his own. Kieran’s eyelids fluttered and warmth spread all over the lower part of his torso when the touch went firmer, their lips forcing each other open. 

“Fuckin’... ugh… inverts…” Bill groaned, moving to Kieran’s other boot. His hips jerked involuntarily when he glanced up at the stupid, repulsive, idiotic kiss, but he didn’t dare touch himself. He tried it once without permission, during one of these weird encounters with Javier, and the man got so offended he didn’t speak to him at all for at least a few days, mercilessly leaving him hard and unsatisfied - because just jerking off wasn’t cutting it anymore, or at least wasn’t that good.

Kieran breathed a little harder when the kiss deepened, Javier’s hand brushing dangerously close to his hardening cock.

“Lemme show you somethin’,” Javier muttered, moving back a little. He walked over the log and sat next to Kieran, their bodies pushed together firmly, then stretched one leg and nudged Bill’s crotch. “Show us your work.”

Bill grunted something, then gently raised Kieran’s foot, showcasing the shining leather, his eyes stubbornly locked on something to the side. Duffy smiled in disbelief, not really sure at what anymore: Bill, boots, Javier? It was all so unusual…

“Muy bien, friend. Now kiss it.”

Williamson lowered his head, but not in submission; his grip on the heel tightened, his thighs tensed. If his face wasn’t hidden by the hat, Kieran and Javier would once again see it redden extremely from all the humiliation and the simple fact that he liked it.

And he must have liked it, because he could have just gotten up and did literally anything else, but instead he raised the boot towards his lips and pressed them into the soft leather. Kieran bit his lower lip, a nervous giggle wanting to slip out. He never planned on going so far, he just wanted to tease Bill a little bit, maybe make him come into his pants, but Javier took the lead and made it a hundred times better.

The Mexican did what Kieran had done beforehand; his gold shoe tip found Bill’s erection and grinded upon it, eliciting a muffled moan. Then he nudged Kieran with his elbow and pointed at Williamson, the corners of his mouth jumping up.

The former O’Driscoll got the suggestion in no time; he stretched the leg that Bill wasn’t holding, then pressed the sole a little under Javier’s boot. Williamson groaned, his hips back to bucking into the pressure; the boots moving at different paces, making the man shiver and arch forwards. He pulled Kieran’s leg closer, nuzzled the clean leather, inhaled the smell of polish… his eyes were squeezed shut, redness painting his face, hips moving quicker and quicker, looking for more satisfaction with each thrust.

While he moaned and groaned, reaching a climax, Kieran glanced at Javier, and realised that the Mexican was looking at him. The boy couldn’t help but wander his sight towards his lips, the ones he just kissed. He wanted more, more of that neatness, more of that fresh smell and graceful movements, soft touches and that dark voice, shit, that voice…

“Please,” Bill muttered almost inaudibly, but it was enough for Javier. The Mexican looked down at the man, and spoke out an order, authority covering it like the sweetest honey:

“Come for me.”

Kieran had to use every part of his will to not let out any humiliating sounds.

Bill tensed and pushed his face into Kieran’s shoe, the waves of pleasure shooting through him in a way he resented so much, resented but loved at the same time. Both boots pushed into his clothed cock, making it spurt every last drop of cum, further dirtying his trousers. 

For a moment all three men only breathed, relishing either the completion or the arousement that went through their bodies. Bill tried to hide his face by lowering it, the full realisation of what he did again hitting him like a train, Kieran shivered a little, glancing at Javier and imagining what it would take to be as neat as him… meanwhile Javier only smiled, not a hair out of place, calm and collected as always.

Although he did throw a look towards Duffy. 

“I think we have to go back now,” he said, getting up. Kieran immediately missed the warmth of their bodies touching. “Or John will get worried that something happened. Bill, put the kit back into my satchel, would you?” Even if formed as a request, it was clearly an order, and Bill went to fulfill it without a word of resistance.

When they went to get on their horses, they realised that they had only two, since Brown Jack was left somewhere in a village where Bill was captured, and all the horses belonging to the bounty hunters ran away, startled by the shootout. Kieran felt kind of bad for Williamson, imagining the pure misery that the man would have felt while riding horseback with someone whose shoe he just came on, so he suggested for the man to ride Branwen, while he went with Javier on Boaz. Bill accepted it with a grunt that was probably supposed to be a ‘thanks’, then jumped on the horse and not once looked back at the two men following him. 

Well, alright, maybe Kieran didn’t really think that much of Bill when he let him take Branwen; more so he considered it as a way to get what he really wanted, and that was being close to Javier. It worked out quite well, since he could lean over on the Mexican and hold him at the waist as an excuse to keep himself from falling. He almost didn’t want to go back to camp, to all the awaiting tasks and crooked glances, away from the warmth and the soft poncho draped over Javier’s shoulders.

Finally, they reached the trees surrounding camp. Bill slowed down just before the voice range of the guards, then turned his head.  “If any of you ever mention what happened, I’ll kill ya both,” he growled, then, not waiting for a response, rushed between the trees.

“Don’t worry, he’s not that serious,” Javier informed Kieran calmly, rolling his eyes. “But yeah, let’s not talk about it too loudly, okay?”

“Okay,” Kieran agreed, tightening the grip around Javier’s waist, even though he should’ve loosened it. He really didn’t want to get off. “Hey, ya think…”

But he couldn’t get the words out. Javier slowed Boaz down to a slow steppe, clearly thinking about something, pondering; Kieran, Bill, the unspoken question, this whole situation.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, waving towards John who greeted them back, need lingering somewhere in his voice, making Kieran’s lower stomach tingle. “Yeah.”