Archive of Our Own

1899.

“We’ll hitch our horses up there,” Snake says, pointing a gloved hand at an opening that widens with trees curving around it.

“Oh, alright.” Hal nods, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat to check the time through his silver pocket watch. It’s late. “Reckon the trail’s gone cold?”

“No, just don’t find much use in us being tired out of our minds.” He rubs his stubble. “We’ll hold up there and—”

“Pick up the trail at first light,” Hal finishes with a knowing smile.

Snake pauses and grumbles, “Glad to know you still have your sense.”

He hears Hal chuckle behind him. Truthfully, the sound brings Snake relief. Whenever they spent hours on horseback, Hal would get distant out of sheer exhaustion. But despite himself, he always pushed through and remained at Snake’s side, ready to go wherever and do whatever he reckoned was best. Snake doesn’t think he could ask for a better traveling companion—not that he’d ever tell that to Hal face–to–face.

They continue to head deeper into the woodland. Snake grunts and fixes his hat as leaves from hanging branches often brush past his face. Hal encourages his mare to speed up, and so she does, and they catch up to Snake, walking by his side. It’s dark; their only source of clarity is the silvery rays illuminating the way ahead, overhead, through the gaps of the trees. Twigs and undergrowth get trampled down by their horse’s hooves, and the sound fills the silence between Hal and Snake.

Insects buzz; their horses snort, bobbing their heads. They trudge through the forest, exhausted, yet they carry on.

Within a few minutes, they draw closer to the opening. In the center, there is a clean slate for them to work with, and surely enough space for them to set up camp in. Short grass, bare ground. Like clockwork, they approach separate trees and dismount to hitch their horses and tie their leads around the wide trunks.

Hal sighs and pushes up his spectacles, taking out his bedroll from the back of his horse’s saddle cantle. He knows it’ll take some time to get their camp up to a comfortable level. Snake, on the other hand, takes out a rolled–up cotton tarp, along with some rope from one of the saddlebags on his stallion; the muscles of his forearms tensing with the weight. He inspects his items, checking their condition.

He’s used the tarp and rope quite a lot for Hal, going the extra mile to help him set up a makeshift A–frame tent. The good doctor never wants to sleep out in the open like normal, average men.

But as he lifts his head and the brim of his hat moves up, letting up on his field of vision, he sees Hal gazing at him, appearing distracted, holding onto his canvas bedroll with such a loose grip that Snake figures the man will drop it. Before Snake can say anything, Hal quickly turns away and is engrossed in the seams of his mare’s saddlebag all of a sudden. Snake can’t hold back a smile at the sight.

Snake thinks of something.

Hal is always doing that: staring at Snake whenever he can, whether he’s setting up shelter for Hal, or wrangling livestock—Hal will let those inquisitive eyes of his roam over Snake’s arms. That is, until Snake stares back. Or, whenever Snake leans over the table next to Hal, he’ll see Hal’s gaze wander over his chest as his shirt droops down. Those memories only serve to inflate Snake’s ego.

Knowing Hal, he’ll insist he never even noticed, or he’ll dance around the subject and never give Snake an answer.

That’s fine with Snake. He figures he knows what’s with his curiosity already. Truth is, he’s curious about some things regarding the doctor as well. But Hal already knows that, he just doesn’t dare to let anything bloom from their interests. Because, they’d be as good as dead if anyone ever caught onto them—and, well, they move around from town–to–town.

The moment passes. Hal clutches his bedroll and speeds past Snake with a bowed head; he makes his way to their sparse, future campsite. Snake watches Hal and shamelessly checks him out, tilting his head. He watches the way Hal’s snug, cotton waistcoat hugs his torso; he watches how his legs and hips fill his pants. Snake draws in a deep breath and tears his gaze away, fixing his grip on the tarp and rope.

He’s getting distracted, though that foolish, unserious smile returns.

Camp is set up.

Snake managed to get a fire going, and he set up Hal’s tent. As for Hal, he made his shelter somewhat more homely with his bedroll and other belongings sprawled about on the grass. Often, Snake argues that a tent isn’t necessary. Hal doesn’t listen, considering he’s far too prone to worrying about his safety at draining levels. Since they’ve been partners, Snake’s learned to quit questioning Hal’s quirks and choices.

They sit next to each other before the fire. They also recently finished discussing how they’d continue their travels in the morning. For now, Hal watches the flames stir, crackling before them, giving life to their campsite with its radiant, warm glow. Snake holds onto a small, glass bottle of whiskey that’s on its way to being empty. In the midst of their silence, Snake finishes up his whiskey, shooting it down without a flicker in his expression.

Hal watches Snake, tilting his head. Snake idly tosses the bottle to the side, fixing his hat afterward. Hal observes Snake one last time before returning his attention to the fire. Snake lifts his gaze to Hal, seeing the flames play in the reflection of the man’s lenses. It suits him. They continue to say nothing; a certain silence remains—the kind of silence that beckons conversation over. Snake thinks of what to say, and a particular memory comes to mind.

Not too long ago, Hal rode on horseback all by his lonesome while Snake stayed back at their camp. Evening rolled by, and Hal got held up by a group of bandits. Snake had to go out, track him down, and rescue his hide from those men. Afterward, he gave Hal simple advice: don’t go looking so spiffy. Hal insisted he was indebted to Snake and would pay him back somehow, though they never made any arrangements to do so.

Maybe he has an idea. Only maybe.

“I still recall saving your hide from those bandits,” Snake says with a sly look.

Hal blinks and looks Snake’s way with a sheepish look—Snake’s favorite.

“You’re not still holding that against me, are you?”

“Don’t mean to,” he says. “Just reckoned you still owed me after that mess.”

“Well, alright.” Hal huffs. “What’s your price?”

With a smirk, Snake reaches up and takes off his hat, setting it on Hal’s head; Hal’s eyes go wide, and he freezes, stiff as a board. Snake doesn’t doubt that Hal knows what this means.

“This time, the bounty’s on you.”

Hal appears conflicted. Snake starts to wonder whether this was the right move. But, he swears the man’s cheeks are going pink. Or, is that from the glow of the fire? Either way, Snake’s ears go hot. Hal huffs and swallows hard, taking off the hat and placing it back onto Snake’s head, glaring daggers at him.

“Quit it, Snake,” he says. “You can’t keep up with this foolery. Don’t you have any sense?”

Snake pauses and fixes his hat with narrowed eyes. “I have sense.”

“E—enough messing around,” Hal mumbles. “You’re reckless.”

Still, Hal isn’t satisfied. He turns away, not meeting Snake’s gaze anymore. Frustration wells up in Snake. Shaking his head, he reaches out and pulls Hal back by his shoulder, making the man face him. At this point, he can tell a rosy tint has taken over Hal’s usually pale complexion. Snake’s breath goes shallow. He wants—no, needs Hal in the best way.

“I’m not messing around, Emmerich.”

“Yes, you are.”

Hal doesn’t sound too confident; his eyes drift down to Snake’s mouth and chest, jaw taut. Snake feels something flutter in his stomach.

He glances down at Hal’s lips, his hand still grabbing onto his shoulder. Hal sees this and swallows hard, shifting in place. Strangely enough, heat slivers down to their cores at the contact. The string of tension is stretched taut, as if a gun could go off at any moment. Snake’s grasp softens, much to Hal’s confusion, and his eyes narrow for a split second.

Before Hal can shrug Snake’s hand off or hit him with another defensive response, Snake leans in and puts their lips together. Hal blinks and grows even stiffer, his face hot; his head spins, and worry certainly creeps up behind him, but Snake hums against his lips, and, well, neither of them can deny how interesting it feels. At last, it’s boiled over.

For a moment, Hal leans in and inhales, taking in Snake’s scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and damp, soil–like musk. Snake pushes further, his stubble tickling Hal’s skin. Snake finds that Hal’s lips are dry yet so warm, and he knows he wants more. It takes an admirable amount of self–discipline not to unbutton Hal’s waistcoat and pull off the rest of his clothes. He feels a hand go on his shoulder.

Snake tries to get closer and put a hand on his neck, but Hal’s brows furrow when reality seems to hit. He tears away, pushing Snake back by the chest with a bewildered look on his face. Snake’s shoved and catches himself, planting his palms on the dry grass beneath them. He knows he’s left Hal shaken when the man goes to push up his spectacles and fix his clothes.

“Have you lost your mind?” Hal asks, his voice shaky, fixing his waistcoat and the crotch of his pants. “S—surely, you understand why that’s unacceptable.”

Snake rubs his jaw, conflicted. He knows what he felt. That was reciprocation; that was temptation almost wrangling Hal in a chase.

“Hal,” he says. “Hold on.”

Hal doesn’t offer him a shot; he rises on his feet and hurries to his tent, disappearing behind the tarp. Snake’s jaw now goes tense. He’s realizing he may be an idiot. They’re friends. Partners. This will definitely throw their chemistry and synergy off balance. He knows it will. Hal isn’t the kind of man who’ll work with him without clouded vision.

Snake tries not to hate himself. He gets up, ignoring the tightening and soreness in his quads. His eyes fix themselves on the tent. Hal is in there. He reckons giving him an apology ought to fix this right up. They can’t afford to be stuck in this predicament. But, Snake’s a bit distracted. He can still feel Hal’s lips on his; he can still remember how he smelled—how Hal’s body would respond to his movements and try to match whatever he did. Intoxicating. He knows it isn’t that stale whiskey influencing him.

He straightens out his wrinkled shirt and makes his way over to Hal’s tent. A bright, warm lantern lights the inside of the tent—Snake can see Hal’s still, tense silhouette behind the tarp, thanks to the light source. His heart races; his stomach turns. He fixes the way his hat sits on his head. Reaching the front, Snake stands outside and sees Hal writing something into his journal. His brow raises.

“Hal,” Snake calls again. “You can’t stay riled up. You said it’s not good for the ticker.”

Hal jumps from the sudden interruption, rushing to snap his journal closed. He bends down to place his journal and pen on the grass, then straightens up to meet Snake’s gaze. Something in the air isn’t great. Hal still appears frazzled, folding his arms across his chest. Snake knows that look.

“Well, I know it’s not good for the heart.” Hal sighs. “Don’t reckon I can talk about what you did. Not now.”

“Understood.” Snake pauses, not wanting to leave it there. “My thinking wasn’t too clear. We can just up and forget it.”

Hal tilts his head and frowns, hugging himself. Snake keeps his gaze fixed on him, but he takes a slow step inside the tent, as if he’s being careful not to set off traps. Hal swallows hard and averts his gaze, now turning away. Snake hasn’t a clue what to do about his partner. He stays right where he is, not coming any closer; he sees Hal turning his head to the side like he’s expecting to hear more words spill out from him.

Hal seems to be restraining something, but he says, “You always make me do foolish things, Snake.”

Snake’s brow raises again. He steps closer once again and reaches a hand out, almost touching Hal’s shoulder, but he decides against it, letting his hand fall down to his side. At this moment, he sees Hal as far too fragile. Any touch, any wrong words—he’s certain those would break him. And, he can agree with the good doctor. He often ropes him into tomfoolery.

“My mistake,” he says.

“You really need the debt paid off?”

“I was only funning,” Snake says. “Paying it off’s your call.”

Hal huffs and, all of a sudden, whips around to face Snake. He can’t tell whether Hal is angry with him. But, in one fell swoop, Hal steps forward and closes the distance between them, sealing their mouths together. Snake goes tense and considers pushing Hal back to ask what the hell has gotten into him, but Hal’s lips part for him as a silent invitation, and arousal shoots right through Snake.

His eyes flutter shut, and he groans into Hal’s mouth, his arm wrapping around his shoulders while his other hand holds his waist. Eager, he pushes his tongue into Hal’s mouth, eliciting a delicious mewl of pleasure from the doctor. Snake feels Hal arch against his touch, their bodies flush together. The small amount of warmth he receives from Hal’s clothed body drives him mad.

His breathing goes shallow; his head spins. Every touch, every lap of Snake’s tongue draws a moan from Hal. Snake tries to pull away to breathe, but Hal doesn’t want him to, like he doesn’t want reality to crash down on them for even a second. And, well, Snake is alright with that. He hums low into Hal’s lips, his face burning up—the heat trickles down to his core, then spilling to his groin. He’s so aroused.

Their hearts pound in their chests; their breathing is all out of order, and they grab onto each other as if they’re each other’s saving grace. Hal no longer cares to fight off temptation anymore—it came to successfully wrangle him like he’s livestock.

Hal melts into Snake even further, leaning all his weight against him. Snake stumbles back and has to catch himself, also catching Hal in the process. They break off their kiss, and Snake looks at Hal with a smile. Hal looks sheepish. The warmth emanating from the bright lantern illuminates the interior of the tent, showing the rosy tint of Hal’s cheeks. He’s cute.

They catch their breaths; Hal seems to realize how much weight he put on Snake, so he stands up straighter.

“Hal,” Snake husks. “Hold up.”

“What is it?”

“Knew you’d come around sometime.”

Hal shakes his head. “Oh, hush.”

“Just saying, I reckoned by the way you’d look at me like I—”

Before Snake can finish his sentence, Hal leans in to kiss him for another time, going in with parted lips. Snake accepts the advance and hums, his tongue darting around to lick at Hal’s bottom lip, tracing the seam of it.

Hal grunts, his hand going down to curiously run down Snake’s hip. Snake feels his heart race uncontrollably fast when Hal gives his ass a light squeeze. That’s enough to melt away every ounce of his inhibitions. The way Hal touches him makes Snake remember his aching erection underneath his pants. He knows Hal is just as hard as he is when he tries to grind his own rock–hard cock against Snake’s.

Snake pulls back from the kiss to look down at Hal’s waistcoat, reaching out to undo the buttons. Hal lets him, watching with heavy breaths. A particular hunger Snake left untouched for years starts up again, and it’s back tenfold. His hands tremble, but he’s already unbuttoning half of the gold buttons. As he’s doing so, Hal cradles Snake’s head in his hands and kisses his cheek, peppering those kisses down to his jaw, having to lean up to do so.

How tender. Snake feels a smile tugging at his lips, but he has to remind himself not to get used to this. He sees the gold buttons on Hal’s waistcoat; he sees the silver chain attached to his pocket watch, and he’s reminded of their differences in class. It’s a mystery how Hal is into him.

Snake finishes up, trying to pull his waistcoat off. Hal shrugs it off, and it falls onto the ground, soundless; he kisses Snake on the lips again, and Snake runs his hands down Hal’s frame, rubbing, committing each detail to memory. He seeks to remember how warm and soft he feels; he seeks to remember how much he impatiently he shifts against him when he’s overrun with arousal.

Hal’s hands work to unbutton Snake’s shirt while he’s kissing him, and once he’s finished, Snake does the rest and shrugs it off, like Hal. Immediately, Hal touches his chest and runs his hands down Snake’s narrowing waist, pleased hums leaving him, like he’s finally satisfied one of his curiosities. Snake feels himself smirk against Hal’s lips at that.

Hal then pulls back from the kiss and looks at Snake, pupils large, breathy, flushed. Snake is just the same, his hands not leaving Hal’s sides. Hal looks at Snake’s hat and smiles for a moment before his expression settles on something much more cautious, eyes now on Snake’s.

“Snake,” Hal says under his breath. “C—can I try something?”

Snake doesn’t even think about it. “You’re welcome to try anything you want.”

A silly smile graces Hal’s lips, and he adjusts the way his spectacles sit on his nose bridge. Snake observes, a bit curious, but his brows shoot up when Hal suddenly gets on his knees before him. God, Snake has to ignore the flutters in his stomach and the heat that travels straight down to his cock. Is he going to do what he thinks he is?

Hal starts to undo Snake’s gun belt, slowly. Snake has to take a deep breath in, his hand resting behind Hal’s head. His body goes even hotter. He can’t tell if Hal is moving deliberately or is being sincerely cautious. Either way, the belt comes off, and Hal sets it on the ground, his holstered revolver parting from him—an enticing yet unsettling reminder of how unguarded Snake is with Hal. Snake glances down at the gun belt and sees his handy bottle of gun oil roll out from one of the smaller pockets onto the grass. He ignores it.

Hal then looks up at Snake, who nods, wanting him to continue. Hal’s lips are slick and flushed. Snake bites down on his bottom lip, feeling Hal’s dry, clean strands of hair underneath his palm. Hal shifts his attention to Snake’s bottom half, reaching out to now undo the front, horizontal straps of Snake’s dark, worn leather chaps; it loosens and slinks down his legs, then to the ground with a light thud. Snake looks down at them and steps out of the holes of the chaps, kicking them to the side.

“All right?” Hal asks, his hands holding onto Snake’s hips.

Snake nods and husks, “Fine and dandy. Keep her going.”

Hal smiles and pushes up his spectacles with a shaky hand, now moving to undo the front button of Snake’s denim pants. Snake’s heart races; his cock aches with arousal, begging to be released by Hal’s hand. His stomach churns, and Hal appears to read his mind, pulling his pants down by the waistband just a little below his crotch. They both can see how hard Snake is, his erect cock underneath his snug undergarments, and Snake sees Hal go wide–eyed, wetting his lips.

Snake’s lips part in total anticipation, almost wanting to push his cock towards Hal’s face, but he’s a decent enough man not to do that. An overwhelming amount of heat starts up in his face again. Hal undoes the final button on the front of Snake’s undergarments, freeing his erection. Snake finds himself grabbing a fistful of Hal’s hair before he releases it, resorting to stroking his scalp.

He’s fully erect already and leaking so much pre–cum. Hal looks up at Snake and strokes his shaft, his expression awfully focused for someone with a handful of cock. Snake grunts, staring down at Hal, chest heaving, breaths shallow. A wave of hot pleasure washes over, and his core tingles with each tug. He clenches his jaw, brows furrowing as he tries not to submit to his pleasure too fast. Beads of sweat form on his forehead.

Hal sees this and holds back a smile, shifting his gaze to Snake’s cock. Snake opens his eyes, jaw tense. Hal looks up at him again.

“That’s a good hand,” Snake says. “Keep at it; you’re a good old boy.”

“Really, huh?” He gets curious and tugs firmer. “Well, how good?”

“Damn it,” he mutters. “As good as you want.”

Snake can’t bring himself to speak any further. Hal’s eyes greedily search Snake’s expression, and, all of a sudden, he parts his lips and takes Snake into his mouth. Snake groans, his entire body being overrun by goosebumps as a hot wetness surrounds his cock. He looks down at Hal, watching the way he slides in and out of his mouth, his shaft coated with Hal’s saliva.

He hears Hal grunt and sees him shift on his knees, holding onto Snake to keep himself stable with furrowed brows. Snake moans, grabbing a fistful of Hal’s hair, getting more comfortable with their arrangement. He pushes into Hal’s mouth, feeling his throat flex to accommodate his length. Snake’s head tilts back for a moment. His hat doesn’t fall off.

Hal keeps going, continuing to take Snake’s length into his mouth, his eyes shut in total concentration. Snake looks down at Hal again, releasing his fistful of hair, going back to stroking his head as encouragement. Hal pulls back with a wet pop to lick and lap at Snake’s balls, to which Snake bites his lip, a low rumble of approval sounding in his throat. Hal sucks at his balls now, using his hand to stroke his shaft, and Snake knows he’ll come soon at this rate. Hal pulls back Snake’s foreskin to lick Snake’s glans, and Snake’s core trembles. He can’t help but groan.

His cock tingles, and something builds in his core. It’s familiar. Watching Hal suck him off with such focus only worsens the feeling. As appreciative as he is, he doesn’t want this to end so soon. And, truthfully, a bit of panic overcomes him. With one last grunt, he pulls out of Hal’s mouth, and Hal blinks, wiping his lips and staring up at him. Snake meets his gaze, temporarily lost in his bright eyes.

“Snake?” Hal appears frazzled. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Snake smirks and fixes his hat, cock still before Hal’s mouth. “You’re mighty fast, doctor. I would’ve bucked off too early.”

“Oh,” he says with a proud smile. “Well, I see.”

“What’s with that grin?”

“Nothing.” Hal’s cheeks flush. “I just reckoned you were, uh, a mite tougher to please.”

“Don’t tell me I let you down.”

Hal gasps and blinks. “No, not at all.”

Their eyes meet. Snake’s gaze softens before he looks away and remembers what’s going on here. He sees Hal shifting around on the ground, adjusting his pants, and Snake figures it’s his turn to try something. He reaches up and lightly pats the side of Hal’s face; Hal leans into his touch.

“Lie down,” Snake orders. “I figure it’s my chance to give ‘er a whirl.”

“Your chance?” Hal moves to lie back on his bedroll, a lovely sheen of sweat on his forehead. “What’s your plan?”

Snake grunts. “Trust me?”

“A—always.” Hal nods.

Snake nods back and tucks his cock back into his undergarments. He approaches Hal, wanting to step between his legs. Hal props himself up on his elbows and parts his legs; Snake steps between them and gets down on his hands and knees, leaning over Hal. Hal stares up at him, lightly flicking his hat with his finger, knocking it back a bit. Snake raises a brow and fixes his hat while Hal snickers.

“You have jokes.” Snake smirks and uses one hand to try to unbutton Hal’s dress shirt.

“Only a bit.” Hal lets Snake undress him. “You never take your hat off, do you?”

“Never.”

“Huh.” Hal sits up, takes off his shirt, then lies back down on his elbows. “When did you get this hat?”

“My master, he gave me this here thing years ago,” Snake motions to the hat. “You’ve met him.”

Hal’s eyes go wide for a moment. “Oh, you mean him? As in—?”

Before Hal can finish his sentence, Snake leans in and captures Hal’s lips in an impatient kiss. Hal hums against his mouth, wrapping an arm around Snake’s neck, pulling him as close as he can. Snake grinds his groin against Hal’s, muffled groans of pleasure leaving them. The friction is relieving, sending waves of pleasure right through Snake. He can feel Hal arching his back and pushing his groin up, desperate.

Snake runs his hand down Hal’s bare, warm torso, his thumb grazing the man’s nipple—Hal sighs out of sheer delight when Snake touches him. The aching underneath his Snake’s pants only yells at him, and he pulls back from the kiss, moving to unbutton Hal’s linen pants. Hal lets him, and Snake sits back, pulling off his pants by the waistband. Hal lifts his hips, and Snake successfully discards it.

His eyes roam over Hal’s form beneath him, and he feels heat rush down to his cock. Hal is hard. So hard, and he can tell by the tent underneath his linen drawers. Hal gazes at him with a shy smile, motioning to Snake’s lower half.

“You ought to shed those too, you know?” Hal says, eyes on Snake’s pants.

“Alright then.” Snake ignores how his stomach flutters. “You just lay back and watch me start shucking these duds.”

“O—of course,” Hal says under his breath.

Snake rises to his feet, still standing between Hal’s parted legs. He starts to strip, taking off his denim pants and letting them slink down to the ground. Pushing away all of his shame, he takes off his undergarments; they slink down as well, and he kicks them to the side. Well, his erect cock is out again, and Hal marvels at it like he did the first time. Snake reaches up to take off his hat, and Hal perks up and shakes his head.

“No, no,” Hal says. “Keep your hat on.”

“Hat on, huh?” Snake pauses and looks down at Hal, who’s rushing to get his drawers off. He wonders if Hal’s had a thing for him in his hat this entire time.

“Don’t question it, all right?”

“No questions at all, doctor.”

He decides that the hat and boots will stay on for the ride.

Well, he sees Hal’s hard cock below him: pale, flushed at the tip, perfect for Snake to work with. Hal sets his drawers to the side, and Snake can’t suppress his smirk. Looking at it starts up a certain hunger, or rather, arousal in him. He gets back down, though this time, he straddles Hal’s waist, knees to the ground, insoles of his boots arched on the ground to accommodate his weight; Hal stares up at him, amazed yet nervous. It seems like he’s beginning to get the idea of what Snake wants to do.

Hal props himself up on his palms, leaning up to try and kiss Snake. Of course, Snake meets him halfway and kisses him back. A hand goes on Snake’s back, but Snake is looking to get started, so he remembers the gun oil that fell out of his belt pocket some time ago. He leans to the side and feels around the patch of grass, eventually having the small bottle in his hand.

For a moment, he breaks off the kiss and pulls out the wooden bottle stopper, rushing to drizzle oil over his fingers. Hal rubs Snake’s back, staring at the leaking bottle. He tilts his head, appearing curious. All Snake can think about now is the fact that he’s willing to use up the gun oil he holds dear for this man.

“What’s that?” Hal then shakes his head, like he wants to rephrase his question. “What’re you going to do?”

Snake eventually gets enough oil on his fingers and leans forward, pushing his fingers inside himself. It stings. It burns. His muscles go tight at the feeling, but he continues, stretching himself out as best as he can. Hal observes, biting down on his bottom lip. One finger probing around, then two. He closes his eyes, his words coming out—strained.

“I’m gonna ride you like a bronco,” he says, pulling his fingers out of himself.

“Oh.” Hal blinks before his expression devolves into an excited smile. “Well, b—by all means.”

“You just lie back.”

Hal obliges. Snake takes the gun oil and drizzles some onto his palm, then reaches out to stroke Hal’s cock, wetting it. Hal’s breath hitches, and a grunt leaves him, his hips lifting to indulge in Snake’s slick fist. Snake then retracts his hand and positions his hips above Hal’s cock. He reaches back to keep Hal’s cock steady, and before he sinks down onto it, his stomach turns with the most intense anticipation. He knows Hal anticipates this just as much as he does when he feels the doctor’s hands reach out to rest on his hamstrings.

Then, Snake sinks down onto his cock. Hal moans with approval, his hands tightening their grip on Snake’s hamstrings; Snake grunts, taking in all of his length right off the jump, not bothering to ease onto it. Hal’s cock stretches him out, giving him the most arousing, hot, and throbbing pain he’s ever felt. He rests his palms on the bedroll, planted on either side of Hal’s head, and he rocks his hips back–and–forth, sucking air in through his teeth as he feels his walls being worked out.

His cock throbs with delight; he feels Hal pulsate inside of him with restrained mewls of enjoyment, leaving him. Sweat starts to break out at Snake’s forehead, trickling down his temple. He looks down at Hal and sees he’s sweating, his body carrying a sheen of sweat that Snake finds to be beautiful. Snake’s breathing goes shallow; ecstasy clouds his senses like cotton filling his head.

It’s an enticing mix of pleasure and pain. Snake takes in Hal deep enough to the point where he feels it prod his prostate over and over again. Thrilling sparks of pleasure shoot right through him; Hal grunts and moves his hands up to Snake’s hips, encouraging his movements. Snake quickens the pace, bouncing on his cock—they can hear the faint jingling of Snake’s loose spurs.

Snake glances down at Hal, struck by the urge to hear his voice.

“How’s this feel to you?” he asks—breathy, strained.

Hal opens his eyes, panting a bit. He keeps his hands on Snake’s hips, finding it hard to keep his mind and body in sync. Their eyes meet. Hal gets much more turned on. He lifts his hips and thrusts into Snake to get deeper into him, drawing a groan from his partner.

“F—feels mighty fine,” Hal finally says, stammering, disjointed. “Reckon you’re a real pro.”

Snake groans and nods in a hurry, overrun by shivers. “Yeah, quite a pro.”

“How’d you learn this trick? Other men?”

Snake smirks. He looks at Hal, who stares up at him, lips parted, little grunts slipping out of him. He leans down on his elbows and goes chest–to–chest with Hal; Hal embraces him without a second thought, and Snake kisses him, still rocking back on his cock. Hal’s breaths quicken as he sighs against Snake’s lips, and he’s starting to let loose with his sounds of pleasure. Snake reckons he’s close. Hal reaches up and hooks an arm over Snake’s neck.

He thinks about Hal’s question and pulls back from the kiss, his core beginning to flare up with a familiar tingle. He starts to jerk himself off at a deliberate pace, his cock leaking pre–cum onto Hal’s abdomen. Hal sees and keeps thrusting into Snake, groaning, getting off to the sight of Snake.

“Is that a loaded question, partner?” Snake then asks, a bit distracted, rocking forward due to Hal’s thrusts.

“H—huh?” Hal shakes his head. “W—wasn’t, uh, trying to trick you. I was just, oh God, curious.”

“I tangled with a man afore,” Snake kisses Hal’s neck, “but he wasn’t half as handsome as you.”

“Oh, you smooth–talking varmint.”

Hal grunts and holds Snake tighter, planting his own boots onto the bedroll below them for leverage. He clearly liked that. Snake groans as he feels Hal try to thrust into him harder; he strokes his own cock faster, leaking at the way Hal’s hot, slick cock slides in and out of him with no breaks. He’s beginning to sweat buckets, and droplets break off and drip down. A knot forms in his core, and with each stroke and each slick thrust, he feels it tighten, begging to be sealed.

His skin burns up; his heart races; his head spins so fast, he wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted. Hal moves his hands to Snake’s hips, keeping him nice and steady as he jabs his cock against his prostate. Snake grunts, his brow furrowing, finding it hard to even keep up with a consistent rhythm when it comes to jerking himself off. The jingling of his loose spurs worsens. Heat forms at the band of his hat. It’s like they’ve been roaming the ruthless, sun–baked desert for hours.

Snake’s prostate cramps and throbs with how vigorous Hal is; he feels his cock throb in his hand, and he continues stroking it, shameless groans leaving him; Hal pants, holding Snake, keeping him where he is.

Hal’s thrusts slow down, and he groans, arching against the bedroll, pushing up into Snake and spilling hot cum into him, stiffening for a minute. Snake bites his lips and grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and pumping his own cock with a firm hand. That knot tightens in his core, and in a hot–white flash, he comes, splattering Hal’s abdomen with his cum. His lips part, and he catches his breath. His prostate and cock throbs so hard, it’s hard to focus on anything else.

Hal’s hand falls from Snake’s hips, landing on the backs of his knees, his hair clinging to his damp forehead. He lifts his head and sees the mess Snake made on his abdomen. Well, he doesn’t care right now; his head lolls right back, and he stares up at the heaving ceiling of his tent. Snake huffs and lifts his hips, feeling Hal’s softening cock slide out of him. He gets off of Hal and lies down next to him on the bedroll. He takes off his hat and places it on his chest. Now, they’re just simply two naked men.

Snake’s body thrums from the lingering ecstasy. He’s exhausted now. He also reckons the debt has been successfully paid off. His vision occasionally fades and blackens due to how dizzy he is. Hal reaches up and moves his hair out of his face, and he props himself up on his elbows, looking at Snake. Snake looks his way and notes how surprised Hal temporarily looks.

Snake puts his hat back on and rises to his feet, moving to collect his clothes. He’ll have to go through the entire process of getting his equipment on again, but it’s all right. Hal blinks and sits up, watching Snake slip back into his undergarments, tucking his penis in. Hal reaches for his linen drawers and awkwardly shifts around to slip them back on. He tightens the drawstrings. He’ll have to deal with the mess on his abdomen.

“Where are you headed?” Hal asks.

“I’m leaving to catch some shut–eye.” Snake glances at him with a raised brow. “You want me to bunk with you?”

“Ah, uh, no, of course not.” He shakes his head. “I was only asking.”

“All right.”

“Well, is my debt settled, at least?” Hal asks with a bashful smile. “Was that good enough?”

Snake smirks and sits up. “That’ll do.”

“Well, glad to hear.”

Snake gets into the rest of his clothes; he equips his various belts and ignores how Hal’s lingering eyes make him feel. They’ll definitely have to put this aside for the sake of their sanity. Once Snake finishes dressing himself, he walks over to the front of the tent and nearly steps out, but he stops and looks at Hal for the last time tonight.

“Don’t sleep in too long, Emmerich.” His eyes droop down to Hal’s legs. “We got that trail to blaze at first light.”

“Oh, don’t fret. I got it.”

“Sure.” Snake steps out. “Night.”

“Good night,” Hal says.

Once Snake leaves Hal’s tent, Hal heaves a sigh of relief, wondering what just happened. Despite his shock, a smile takes over, and he reaches for his journal, opening it up. He hurries to find his pen, and once he does, he flips to an empty page, beginning to write a new entry.

Maybe he should be more indebted to his partner.