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Everyone at camp has their own special talents. Hosea is an actor, Dutch a planner. Sean can play dumb, or more accurately, be dumb enough to lower a target’s guard. Javier always seems to have the best leads. Maybe passerbys don’t think he speaks English, maybe he’s just perceptive. But he’s always able to find the best scores, and he’s usually not unwilling to share if he can get someone to accompany him.
Maybe that’s why John hangs around him so often. Maybe he wants in on those jobs, so he waits by the campfire to see if Javier brings them up in conversation. Maybe he settles on just listening to the man play his music and sing. Maybe he thinks the way he ties his neckerchief looks pretty smart, and finds his mustache somehow endearing.
Maybe it’s really not about getting leads at all.
Either way he brushes away the thought. He can’t sit on it for too long, lest he gets fidgety. If John keeps telling himself it’s about work for the gang, maybe he’ll start to believe it. As if spending hours late at night watching Javier out of the corner of his eye is as dutiful as standing guard or doing camp chores. They’re out in pretty enough country, although a little too much water for John’s tastes. They had to haul the wagons through the wetlands. It was a miserable affair, unable to tell if the ground was merely damp before the wheels were completely submerged. He hates having his boots wet, and he hates even more not knowing if he’s stepping right into neck-high water before it happens.
It’s late. The whole trip had been exhausting, and the entire gang seems to be licking their wounds tonight. John’s nursing a beer at the poker table, watching the embers die in the campfire. If Javier is fiddling with his supplies in his tent not a few feet away, it’s merely coincidence. John’s got his head resting on his forearm, kind of slumped over on the table. He tries to tell his exhausted brain that if Grimshaw catches him sleeping in the middle of camp again she’ll never let him hear the end of it. At that moment Javier gets to his feet, looking this way and that before slipping behind his tent and into the forest. John perks up at that, confused by the odd behavior. John rises to follow him.
For the good of the gang, of course.
John can’t really move silently considering the constant sloshing of his boots, but the night isn’t exactly quiet. A chorus of frogs sing out, loud and trilling. Water splashes from fish darting out of the path of danger. There’s an owl calling out into the night, its coos riding on the wind smooth and even. The moon is bright in the sky, no need for a lantern. Javier is taking careful steps, and although John is following diligently, he quickly disappears. The reeds are tall in the area, cattails bobbing gently as he parts the grasses, trying to figure out where the man disappeared to.
Eventually he makes it to a clearing, peeking out slowly lest he spook whatever critters have found their way there as well. He’s glad he did, since the area reveals itself to be a pond, or a larger part of a river. The water reflects the moonlight back in rippling flashes of pure white against the dark of the water. John’s eyes track movement and find Javier at the other edge.
He doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s not what he sees. Javier’s naked, standing in water about up to his thighs. He’s washing his hair, arms raised high as he scrubs at his scalp. His eyes are shut, brow slightly furrowed as he lathers up the soap. John tracks down Javier’s body and his mouth goes dry. Curves he hasn’t seen before, breasts resting where he had assumed flatness. The crux of his thighs is patterned with hair, but he has a feeling that if he could see closer, parted Javier’s legs, he’d find-
Javier’s eyes snap open, and John jerks backwards into the shadows of the reeds. Javier shrinks down on himself, suddenly up to his collarbones in the water. John notes that he has his hunting knife strapped to his forearm. In a flash he has it brandished in his hand, eyes scanning the area. John takes a slow step backwards. His heart rams in his chest. Further down the waterline a deer bounds out into the water, making Javier’s attention shift. John takes the moment to turn and flee.
-
John tries to get the image out of his mind, will the confusion and concern away. He fails. He sleeps fitfully. When he closes his eyes he see drops of water cascading down dark skin, pristine white light caressing curves he hadn’t even known to look for. ‘Look for’, like he was supposed to be searching Javier like that, like this was the reason the man had always been in his thoughts. Like John had some innate ability to pin down tits and a cunt from miles away under layers and layers of fabric. No, if that was the reason, he wouldn’t still be feeling this way, all jumbled up inside with no way to sort it out.
Javier isn’t by the fire when John finally crawls out of his tent the next morning. He’s not over by the percolator either. John squints over towards the horses, trying to see Boaz, but he doesn’t spot the stallion nor his owner. Good, sort of. John doesn’t know how he’d face the other man at this point. He doesn’t really know how to face anyone right now. The camp is busy, everyone going about their morning duties. John keeps a wide berth, somehow convinced anyone could morph into Javier at any moment. He chops wood, hauls grain, all the chores he usually can’t be bothered to do. It does little to occupy his brain, his thoughts running rampant.
Is that why he wears such complicated outfits? John doesn’t think he’s ever seen Javier shirtless, at least not until now. Uncommon when everyone lives so closely. He’s seen far more than he wants to of most of the gang. But Javier is always dressed in his finery, shirts and vests and jackets and that knife he keeps close to his chest. It still doesn’t answer the ‘why’ of it all, nor does it calm the twisting in his chest.
Arthur appears in his vision, and John almost jumps out of his skin.
“You seen Javier around?” Arthur asks, ignorant to the hammering in John’s chest.
“Why you askin’ me?” John snaps. Arthur gives John a look, quirking his head to the side a bit.
“Just wonderin’,” Arthur scrutinizes John, sounding skeptical. “You’re always hanging ‘round him these days.”
John reels back a bit at the accusation.
“What are you talkin’ about?” John asks, squaring his shoulders and looking at Arthur directly. Arthur’s brows raise, his hands up in mock surrender.
“Easy,” Arthur’s grinning like he always does when he pushes John’s buttons. “You ain’t seen ‘im, I got it.” Arthur walks away, glancing back with a look of entertainment that makes John want to tackle him. Probably wouldn’t help. Might make him feel better though.
The day passes with John flinching every time he hears hooves trotting back to camp. When Javier finally does return, John is so frazzled that he immediately ducks into his tent to lie down. He can hear Javier greet the others, making his way around the camp. John can recognize the clink of his spurs, the sigh he gives when he sits down. A few minutes pass and a gentle melody filters in through the air. John exhales in a huff. This is ridiculous, hiding in his tent while the man carries on like nothing happened. There’s no point to this, this pussyfootin’ around it all. John gets out of his tent, whipping the flap open with a bit more force than necessary.
Javier’s sitting on his bedroll, playing his guitar. Notably, he’s in his union suit, jeans and suspenders, and his hair is down. He’s looking at the fretboard, seemingly ignoring those around him while he picks his way through a new song. John watches for a moment, the way his hair drapes off of his shoulders, the strength in his hands where they grip the neck of the guitar. John can’t quite tell, but he thinks he can see another shirt underneath Javier’s union suit. Has he always worn one like that? How did John not notice before?
“Something you want?” Javier asks. John snaps his gaze to Javier’s face, who’s staring right back. He’s paused his playing, looking up at John through his lashes. John feels himself flush, the back of his neck growing heated.
“Where you been all day?” John asks, deflecting with a frown.
“On a job,” Javier replies easily. “Overheard some fools wanted to rob a stage. Robbed them instead.”
“Where’d you hear that?” John asks.
“Around town,” Javier explains, absentmindedly tuning a few of his guitar’s strings. “Some people can’t keep a secret. Not when it’s valuable, makes people talk for some reason.”
John must be thinking too much about the reply, because Javier eventually looks back at him. His expression is unreadable.
“I didn’t need company,” Javier says.
“What?” John’s blood runs cold.
“Not tryin’ to cut you out of anything,” Javier explains. “Just a one-man job this time.”
“Right,” John corrects his expression, forces himself to calm down. Javier must not know it was him last night. Javier goes back to playing, John feeling all the more relieved now that his gaze is off of him.
-
John thought it would get better over time, but he’s not that lucky. If anything the incident has only made him aware of just how much time he’d been spending with Javier. Running jobs together, drinking by the firepit, stopping in town for supplies. John tries to keep things normal, pretend he doesn’t know what he knows, but it gets harder and harder each day. Javier’s found him staring a few times, John doing little to explain it away when he gets caught. He’s had this need to reach out, to touch him, like if he did he would understand what was going on, know for sure the answer to the questions he can’t even conjure up in the first place.
Anytime he gets these urges he deflects with cigarettes or whiskey, anything else to occupy his hands before they get him in trouble. It means he’s spending much more time wandering around camp drunk than typical. Hosea has commented on it more than once. Abigail gives him nasty looks from across the way. He ignores it all, tries to ignore it all.
He’s half convinced that what he saw the other night was just a trick of his mind after all. Javier doesn’t act differently than he had before, and surely if John knew this about him, something would click. That he’d understand why Javier acts the way he does, moves the way he does. That there’d be something that would justify this new information he had. He’s never been one to seek reasoning in happenstance, there’s too many variables. He knows life doesn’t work that way. But he can’t seem to shake that this should mean something.
John doesn’t get the chance to ruminate on it further. Javier heads off into the woods one evening and John is following as soon as he’s able. He doesn’t get too far, however, before he practically runs into the other man on the edge of camp. Javier turns around, repeater in his hands, looking a little confused.
“You good, John?” Javier asks, quirking a brow.
“Where you going?” John replies. Javier gives him a questioning look.
“I’m on watch,” Javier gestures to the gun in his hands. John looks down at the weapon, like it barged into the conversation without an invitation.
“Don’t usually take watch on this side of camp,” John points out. Javier kind of smiles at that. It makes John nervous for some reason.
“Why do you know that, John?” Javier asks, taking a step closer. A shiver runs down John’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Javier’s eyes, that complicated combination of intense and lazy, seem to peer in through John’s flesh, expose him in a way he can’t avoid.
“Just noticed,” John deflects, though it doesn’t sound convincing. His heart is thundering, his stomach in knots.
“You been following me ‘round camp a lot,” Javier mentions. “Like a little lost puppy.”
“Ain’t nothin,” John tries again.
“Don’t feel like nothin’,” Javier comments. Has John ever noticed that he’s taller than Javier? When they’re this close it’s much more obvious. He’s a little drunk, getting that feeling again, the urge to reach out. Javier licks his lips before they form a smirk, and something in John’s mind snaps.
His lips are pressed against Javier’s before he even realizes what he’s doing, and it’s over just as fast. Javier jams the barrel of the repeater across John’s chest and shoves him off, pointing it his way and pulling back the hammer as soon as John’s far enough away from him. John’s mind is racing, trying to figure out an excuse for his actions-
“That was you,” Javier realizes, eyes widening. “You saw.”
Only a few words, but his expression says so much more.
“I-” John tries to take a step towards him, but Javier straightens his posture, aiming the repeater between John’s eyes. Javier looks half-crazed, half-gutted by the understanding.
“Not the first time someone’s tried to take what ain’t theirs,” Javier mutters. Something crosses John’s mind, something he had noticed that night. The sliver of skin on Javier’s neck. A knife cut. Meant to kill. Personal.
Oh.
“That’s not- Wait-” John feels frantic, unable to find the words to fix what he’d done.
“You have three seconds to get out of my sight or I’m pulling this trigger,” Javier warns, gaze steady and cold.
John doesn’t know what to do. So he leaves.
-
Javier has changed. He keeps his knife at the ready, ever sharpening it when he’s around camp. John hasn’t seen him sleep in days. He might be leaving camp to do so. Either way, it’s clear what John had done had ruined everything. Javier hasn’t touched his guitar. The other musicians fill the space instead.
John hears Tilly ask Javier if he’s alright while John’s chopping wood, and he feels Javier’s gaze on him.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Javier soothes her. “It will pass.”
That night John’s drinking heavier than usual, determined to have one final blackout and then accept the fact that he’s ruined his friendship between him and Javier, possibly forever. The man in question sits over by the fire, poisoning his throwing knives. Uncle plays a tune on his banjo nearby. The atmosphere is oppressive, still. At least to John it is. The others don’t seem as affected.
“You look like shit,” Arthur comments as he sits down on the barrel next to him. John rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his whiskey. Arthur seems a little disappointed in John’s lack of response. “What’s got you all sour? Lady problems?” he tries again.
John’s stomach flips.
“No,” he grumbles.
“Feels like it is,” Arthur continues. “You was never good at handling women.”
“I get ‘em fine,” John snaps. “It’s- it’s men.”
He probably said too much. Arthur’s looking at him like he’s grown a second head.
“Men’re simple,” Arthur argues. “I mean, lookit you!” he gestures with a laugh. John shakes his head and takes another pull from the bottle. Arthur plucks it from his hand halfway through the drink to take his own sip. John lets him, wiping the bit that’s spilled from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Feels like we say one thing ‘n do another,” John adds. “Sometimes.” He doesn’t really know what he’s saying. Maybe he’s just rambling.
“We’re a bunch of liars ‘n thieves,” Arthur replies, passing the bottle back over. “Think it’s in our blood.” John sighs deeper than he intends to. “ ‘s also easier to do what we want instead of sayin’ it.”
At that John hums in agreement, taking another drink. After all, that’s what got him into this trouble in the first place. Acting first. He doesn’t even really know what he wants. Every time he tries to think about it he feels sick.
“You doin’ alright, Johnny-boy?” Arthur asks after a moment. John glances over, sees Arthur looking a little more genuine. Maybe he didn’t come over here to just rile John up.
“It’ll pass,” John murmurs, looking over towards the firepit. Javier is already gone.
-
John does some soul searching, tries to sort out his emotions. He’s never been too good at this. But the idea of Javier avoiding him for the rest of his short, miserable life is too cruel for something as simple as a misunderstanding. Well, not entirely a misunderstanding. Just the bit that made Javier look like John was ready to take what he wanted. And maybe he did, sort of. And maybe that’s why he feels so torn up about it all.
He thinks so much that he feels like he’s wearing himself thin, like he’s run halfway across New Austin. At this point the only thing that he’s doing is making himself more twisted up inside, and he eventually reaches his limit.
It’s evening when he goes to talk to Javier. The sun is low in the sky, not yet turned bloody. At John’s approach the man has his hand on his knife, giving him a dangerous look.
John puts his hands up.
“Just wanna talk,” John admits. “Can we walk?”
Javier doesn’t move immediately, seemingly doubting the offer. John’s shoulders droop a bit. He grabs his gun from his holster, drawing it slowly before offering it to Javier. An odd kind of peace offering. Javier’s gaze flickers between the gun and John’s face before he sheathes his knife and takes it. Without another word he gets to his feet. John meets his gaze, and Javier nods towards the woods before heading in that direction.
For a while they just walk, the only sounds coming from them being the squelching under their boots and Javier idly spinning John’s revolver.
“Why d’you do it?” John finally asks. Javier stops in his tracks, turning to regard John.
“What?” Javier replies.
“Why do you dress like a man?” John asks. His face is shrouded, the sun casting long shadows across the marshy ground.
“Why do you dress like a man?” Javier repeats. John frowns.
“Because I am one,” John answers, matter-of-fact. Javier just gives him a look like he’s answered his own question. “But you don’t got-”
“Does your dick tell you to put on pants?” Javier snaps. John shuts his mouth with an audible click. He thinks about it.
“No, guess not,” John relents. Javier nods, like he’s leading John through the most basic logic imaginable. And maybe it is. But it doesn’t help John’s knots in his stomach, what he really wants to talk about.
“So d’you like ladies or fellers?” John asks, because he’s run out of options. The barest bit of relief on Javier’s face evaporates in an instant, something mean replacing it.
“What’s that gotta do with anything?” Javier returns, a little annoyed.
“Don’t it?” John urges. Javier’s avoiding his gaze now.
“Why would that matter?” Javier asks, somehow more subdued than before.
“It’d matter to me,” John admits. Javier’s gaze snaps to his, brow furrowed.
“Good thing I don’t give a damn what you think.”
“No- shit- not like that,” John drags a hand through his hair and turns away. How did he mess this up again? He paces a bit, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation before Javier decides it’s just easier to shoot him to tie up any loose ends. Everything is just telling him he should just throw himself at Javier, some ever-diminishing part of him reminding him that that’s exactly what’ll get him killed.
“If you think that just because Susan won’t let you near the girls that you-”
John spins on his heel.
“That’s not it,” John snaps. “And that’s not even true. You think I’d just-”
“You did,” Javer interrupts. “Ain’t no ‘think’ about it.”
“I wasn’t trying to- I just wanted to kiss you.”
John doesn’t realize how loud he was being. But the admission is there, out into the woods, rippling through the trees like footsteps in water. He looks at the ground, waiting for the ridicule or rejection or even a bullet in his skull to take him out of his misery.
The gold tips of Javier’s boots appear in his vision. When John looks up he’s standing closer.
“You wanna kiss me?” Javier asks, a slight smile on his face. The sun setting behind him halos his head.
“Ain’t that what I said?” John mutters. His chest feels tight, his heart somehow too big for the space it occupies.
“You know I ain’t no lady,” Javier reminds him.
“I know,” John agrees. “Don’t matter.” Javier just keeps watching,so he lowers his gaze to the buttons on Javier’s vest. He can feel Javier leaning in, his breath catching as he closes his eyes.
It’s a simple, small thing, but it finally makes some of the tangles in John’s chest ease. When he returns the kiss he tastes cigarettes and whiskey. John parts his lips, lets his tongue trace along Javier’s mouth. Javier gives a little hum in reply before he pulls away slightly.
“Is that all you wanted?” Javier asks, quiet but mischievous.
“Javier…” John feels like ears burn. Javier reaches out to slip John’s revolver back into its holster, jerking it into place with a bit of a tug. It strikes a feeling in John’s gut, makes his heart flutter. Javier grabs the center of John’s shirt to pull them a bit closer together. John sets his hands on Javier’s gunbelt.
“Too wet here,” Javier comments, and it takes a second for John to realize he means the ground. “You wanna head into town? Find a bed?”
John’s throat is dry when he swallows, but he nods.
-
They make it into town just as the sun disappears on the horizon. John’s heart is racing so fast he feels like he’s going to pass out before they make it up the stairs. Javier leads the way, only glancing backwards once before they step into the room. This is too premeditated for John’s comfort, his nerves rising despite his own desire for what awaits him. It comes to a head as soon as the door’s locked, and he’s staring Javier down from across the room.
“Why were you following me,” Javier asks. “That night?” His tone doesn’t feel accusatory, and the look he’s giving John says nothing of animosity.
“Jus’ curious,” John replies, feeling fidgety under the gaze.
“How long were you watching me?” Javier asks. John makes a dismissive noise as he looks away, knowing that Javier is just trying to make him flustered.
“Ain't long,” John supplies. “Didn't mean to. You're the one gettin’ naked so close to camp.”
“Bathing, John,” Javier notes, a smile in his voice. “It's called bathing.”
“I didn't come here to talk about all this,” John huffs, turning away to walk across the room.
He feels a hand at his shoulder. When he turns Javier is close. He keeps looking between John's eyes and lips, like he thinks John's gonna turn him away. Like John didn't ask for this, over and over.
Maybe there's a reason why Javier needed him to spell it out. Maybe he has his reasons for being so guarded about it all. Maybe it scared Javier when John kissed him the first time because he wanted it just as bad.
Enough of this.
John leans down, kissing Javier. The angle’s a bit bad, his nose mashing up against Javier’s face in a way that makes it hard to breathe. But Javier lets out a noise that sounds so good it’s practically criminal as he slips his hand up around John’s neck to keep him there. It’s different from the first, or second time. This kiss lingers. It’s full and heavy, like there’s some kind of gravity pulling the two of them together and keeping them there. Their lips move against each other and John can’t find it in him to break away, even to breathe. His hands slip down to Javier’s waist, around and back until they fit under his shoulder blades.
Javier’s taking steps backwards, and John’s following, unsure where they’re headed but determined not to have an inch of space separating them. Only when Javier comes to a solid halt that John realizes he’s led him to the bed. Which is the whole point of coming into town, not doing this in a tent or on the soggy ground. But the weight of it hits John a little stronger than he expects. However instead this time it only spurs him on, desperate to see how this all plays out.
Javier’s hands shift down John’s chest, plucking open the buttons on his vest with ease. He doesn’t even bother trying to remove it, instead moving onto John’s shirt. There’s just a brief moment when John pulls away to watch before Javier gets it all open, pulling at the sleeves to encourage John to take it off. John follows the silent command, removing the garments and letting his suspenders sit loose at his hips. Javier rewards him with another kiss, and continues to do so when John fumbles at the buttons on Javier’s outfit.
John slips his hands inside Javier’s shirt as soon as it’s open enough, palming across his chest, feeling the flesh there. Softer than expected, although at this point John doesn’t really know what to expect. Javier’s nipples harden as John feels his way across them, and when he squeezes the skin squishes under his palms.
“Ain’t a saloon whore,” Javier grumbles even as he shivers at the touch. John mouths at Javier’s neck as he guides the rest of Javier’s clothing off his torso. John takes a moment to take a look at Javier. It’s the first time since that night that he’s seen him bared like this. He hardly has much to be considered breasts, John can see how they could be covered with just a few layers. Javier puts his hands on his hips, kind of frowning at the attention.
“You’re real pretty, y’know,” John admits. He looks up and sees Javier’s expression. “For a feller, I mean.”
“And you’re real chatty for someone who ain’t here to talk,” Javier returns. He reaches out and takes John’s chin in his hand. “If you wanna fuck me, you’re gonna have to make me want it.”
John's mind goes a little crazy at the touch and Javier's words. He grins at the challenge as Javier lets go of his jaw. There's a look in Javier’s eyes, something dark and wanting, something John isn't sure he's seen on his face before. Despite Javier’s apathetic words, he wants this. John is determined to bring those emotions to the surface.
He smooths his hands down Javier's arms, kissing him once on the lips before he drops down to his knees. The look of shock on Javier’s face is worth it. His breath catches when they lock eyes. John leans in and presses a kiss just above Javier’s navel as his fingers find the edge of his jeans.
His touch is gentle as they dip between the fabric and Javier's skin, just tracing along the waistband. John continues to press kisses to Javier’s stomach, little nips here and there that make the skin twitch. Javier reaches for the buttons of his jeans, apparently impatient with the tempo John has set. He shucks off his jeans and drawers all at once, sitting down on the bed once he throws the clothes to the side.
Javier keeps his knees together, his hands kind of fidgeting. John sits back on his heels, hands resting on Javier's knees.
“Y’keep staring,” Javier frowns.
“You got a lot to look at,” John replies with a smile.
“I ain't here to be something to look at,” Javier snaps. John’s smile fades.
“What, you want me to close my eyes?” John argues. Javier considers it, a sly smile appearing across his face.
“Maybe,” Javier decides. John narrows his eyes at the other man, but eventually lets his eyes shut. He hears shuffling, can feel Javier part his knees from where his palms rest. John shifts in closer, letting his hands move up the insides of Javier’s legs. He can smell Javier’s arousal, it’s making his mouth water. He waits for Javier to make the next move.
John feels a hand card through his hair, curling into a fist at the back of his skull. He’s nudged forwards, slowly, until he can feel the insides of Javier’s thighs at his ears. He opens his mouth, tongue lolling out, and presses in. Javier lets out a strangled groan at the touch. John laps slow and wet up along Javier’s folds, letting his tongue get a feeling of the other man.
“That’s-” Javier breathes. “That’s good, John.” His own name feels like praise, somehow, and John repeats the actions, drool mixing in with the slick. It covers his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. He’s paying attention to the motions that make Javier gasp, the hand in John’s hair slightly pulling when he sucks lightly. He mouths at the flesh, tongues at his nub as he feels it swell under his touch.
John brings a hand down underneath, brushing his knuckles up against Javier’s entrance. It’s boiling warm, wet and dripping. He worms a finger inside, delights in the way Javier shifts his hips and whines. He continues with his mouth as he eases the digit in and out, feeling his walls stretch and shift to accommodate. He’s not moving with any urgency, despite the tightness in his own gut. His cock strains in his jeans, throbbing at every sound Javier releases into the room. Eventually he takes his free hand and grinds down on his bulge. John lets out a groan, the noises buzzing from his lips to where they’re wrapped around Javier’s nub.
“Oh fuck,” Javier moans. His hips twitch, clenching down where John has his fingers inside. There’s something building, and it makes pride bloom in John’s chest knowing he’s put him there.
Which is exactly when he pulls away.
Javier gasps at the sudden loss. John opens his eyes and is greeted to the sight of Javier, sweating and shaking, on the verge of ecstasy.
“So?” John’s voice is a little garbled, and he has to swallow to clear his throat.
“Wh- What?” Javier’s voice is barely a whisper, his eyes unfocused, mouth slightly parted.
“Do you want it?” John clarifies with a grin. Javier steals his expression, his brow furrowing. His chest is still heaving, panting through his open mouth.
“You-” Javier swallows. “You bastard.” John laughs.
On shaking hands Javier hauls himself up onto the bed. John stands and strips the rest of his clothing, his cock bouncing as it’s freed.
“Lay down,” Javier suggests. “Gonna ride you, vaquero.”
“Jesus,” John murmurs. He does as asked, laying down at the headboard. Javier swings a leg over his torso, raised up over John’s body. He reaches out, taking John’s chin in his hand once again.
“Look at me,” Javier commands. “If you come inside me, I’m cutting your balls off and feeding them to you. Understand?”
John’s movement is a little limited with the way Javier’s holding him, but he nods. Javier lets go, leaning forward with a hand on John’s chest. He takes John’s cock in his other, guiding him towards his entrance as he sits back. John chokes on a moan when his head slips inside. Javier’s soft and warm, so tight it might bring tears to John’s eyes. He’s still steadily descending, and gets about halfway before he pulls back up.
John realizes he’s closed his eyes again, and opens them to find Javier sinking back down on him, surrounding him in that tight wet heat that makes his heart want to jump out of his chest. His hips stutter and Javier curses.
“G- Give me a second,” Javier asks.
“Make it quick,” John urges.
When he finally meets John’s hips he spares no moment, immediately pulling himself up and dropping down with force. John’s back arcs, his hands clenched in the sheets.
“God- oh God-” John moans. Javier leans back, setting his hands on John’s thighs as he fucks himself on John’s cock. When John recovers enough to focus he meets Javier’s thrusts with his own, wet skin slapping together when they connect. He’s mesmerized, watching where he disappears into Javier’s body. His hands slip up the undersides of Javier’s thighs, spreading him open a bit more so he can thrust deeper. Javier throws his head back and moans, clenching hard around John’s cock.
John pulls Javier up a bit, but only so he can plant his feet and thrust fully, holding him in place as he fucks up into him. Javier folds down onto John’s stomach, burying his face in John’s neck as he groans. It shifts the angle, has John rubbing up inside Javier right where he needs it. He scrapes his fingernails down John’s chest, wrecked noises loosing from his lips.
“Jus’ like that,” Javier slurs. “So close.” John slips his hand down between them to thumb at Javier’s nub. The feeling that had been simmering roars to a boil, and Javier comes, harsh and sharp. He clenches down on John, a fluttering pattern echoing the electricity traveling through his body. John keeps up his motions, thrusting shallow and fast.
John’s close, approaching the edge as Javier’s aftershocks recede. He’s gone boneless in John’s arms, still clenching weakly in return.
“G-Gonna-” John warns. Javier raises his ass, letting John’s cock slip free. Before John can do anything Javier’s wrapped his hand around him, tugging him tight and fast.
“C’mon, John,” Javier’s voice is so close to his ear. It’s all he needs. He shouts as his orgasm hits, painting their stomachs with his cum. John’s gasping for breath, his hands bruisingly tight where they’re still wrapped around Javier’s thighs. John snaps his hips into Javier’s fist, punching out the last of it, until he falls limp underneath him.
Javier sits back on John’s thighs. John can’t see it, his eyes barely open as they are, but he can feel Javier’s weight shift. A sheet gets thrown over John’s body, a hand halfheartedly pawing up the mess.
Javier collapses on the bed, right next to John. He's face down in the pillows, breathing deep. John reaches out to trace his fingers down Javier's back.
“I only rented the room for an hour,” Javier mumbles into the fabric. John balks at the statement.
“That's,” John begins. “A little insultin’.” Javier huffs out a laugh.
-
The ride back to camp is less anxiety-inducing, but only barely. John keeps casting glances over at Javier, like he expects the man to look different. The only real difference is when he finally catches Javier’s eye, he gives John a smile that makes his heart flutter.
Arthur is sitting by the campfire, and he perks up when the two come into camp.
“Been looking for you, Javier,” Arthur comments. “What’d Marston have you off doing?”
“Just a late night ride,” Javier supplies. John covers his reaction with a cough, thanking God that it’s late and his blush can be hidden in shadow. Javier’s got this smile on his face, a spark in his eyes that shows he’s fully aware of the connection.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” Arthur jokes. “Don’t want him rubbin’ off on you.”
Javier flicks his gaze over to John, just for a moment.
“Maybe,” Javier replies. “We’ll see.”