Billy had never thought about the fact that they never slept apart.

From that first night, almost three years ago, trotting out of a nameless town together to finish Goody's bottle of rotgut in peace, the furthest they'd slept was a foot from each other whenever they managed to piss each other off. Or the time they'd made the mistake of travelling East during the hot season and couldn't stand to be touching each other with the humidity making them miserable.

Being careful of how he looked at Goody in public was nothing new, but it was usually followed with closing the door to their room where they were free to stare and talk and touch however they liked and as much as they liked.

It wasn't until they were laying out their blankets the first time and the presence of the men around him pulled him up short that Billy had a sudden bad feeling that he'd misjudged just how little he was going to appreciate this job.

Being a cowboy was not something he'd ever had any great skill or affection for, nor, from what he'd seen that day, did Goody. But Alexander Greyson had called out to Goody as they were leaving Fort Worth, and Goody had actually looked glad to see the man; unlike his usual flinch at encountering people who knew his name.

The young man appeared to share Goody's general dislike for reminiscing about the war past a brief, quietly proud explanation to Billy that Goody had been his captain; and saved his life. Over beers he'd insisted on buying them at the nearest open establishment, he'd even been open and polite to Billy without Goody having to glare; so Billy hadn't had any objections to helping him. On his first time running a trail-drive and apparently jittery about the path through Indian territory, Greyson'd been talking circles around an obvious request for Goody's backup until Goody looked an easy-to-guess question at Billy. Billy'd given his assenting hint of a nod and they'd ridden out with a double-handful of cowboys and a plodding field of cattle.

None of the men, most of them little more than boys, recognized Goody, who'd kept his introductions to 'just call me Goody', and Greyson's snarl at the first fool to sneer at Billy had ended overt unpleasantness as they took up positions to watch for outside trouble.

But Billy really didn't enjoy driving stubborn, stupid cattle. He'd never slept well surrounded by strangers and now found that being unable to listen for Goody's dreams kept him shifting on the otherwise familiar hard ground. He couldn't relax with the low-key antagonism of the men that was a less than pleasant reminder of bad old days. Keeping Goody anonymous had saved them from the danger inherent in the men gushing about the Angel of Death's exploits, but it meant Goody couldn't safely shield Billy. And avoiding the gushing still left him with the worry that some fool would shoot off his weapon and end up spooking Goody as badly as the herd of cattle around them. Or that something else would trigger too many shakes when Billy wasn't close enough to sneak him a medicated cigarette before he was marked as weak.

And neither of them had enjoyed the sustained physical and emotional distance they had to keep from each other to avoid drawing ugly curiosity. The rare few moments they allowed themselves to risk comments by taking a few steps away from everyone to smoke together let them at least speak, but they still couldn't touch. Had to constantly be careful of how they looked at each other. Though Greyson tried to cover for them, sometimes, there always seemed to be someone going by a little too close and they ended up keeping the conversation at making sure they were both getting by. Pretending they were the barely-speaking strangers that happened to have ridden together before this job that the men seemed to have convinced themselves they were, in spite of Greyson's 'and his friend Billy'.

But the simple result of the whole mess was that Billy *missed* his lover. Glances at Goody's increasingly hunched shoulders as they rode, separated by long yards of dust and hooves and flicking tails, were not the same as getting him down to at least shirt-sleeves most nights. As stroking his back as he fell asleep breathing peacefully against Billy with nothing but the sounds of crickets and the snorts of their horses to compete. As seeing his grin and listening to him *laugh* on the good days when it was only the two of them and the clear blue sky. Even the bad days when Goody's ghosts haunted them and the wind chilled them, he still had Goody's sad eyes and companionship as they struggled through.

All those years he'd spent alone with the people he met meaning nothing to him, and all it took was waking up and having to jerk his eyes away from Goody, and keep them away, to be painfully aware of the once again empty places in all of his senses; and the itching need to fill them back up.

It'd been a thorough relief to finally get to the last noisy camp before Kansas: as far as they'd offered to go, since neither of them would risk Goody's life by going into a Union state without dire need.

There'd been a moment when Billy was changing his shirt before they finally rode away.

It lasted only seconds, as Goody had looked up from rolling his blankets and his eyes had locked on Billy where he'd had his own bedroll too many feet and too many other bedrolls away. With them leaving, it was unlikely any of the people grumbling their way awake around them would bother to make the effort to recognize the expression in those pale eyes, but Billy knew it far too well to fail to notice when Goody's mind started spinning designs on his body. Only seconds, and then Goody's eyes rose to meet Billy's, and his momentary grin made it plain he'd caught Billy's answering shiver of anticipation, even though Billy knew damn well he'd kept his face clear.

But it still took too damn long to get completely past the last straggling cows and their unfriendly remaining minders, even with Goody having talked their way out of Greyson's guilty insistence that they have a cooked breakfast rather than hardtack on horseback as they trotted away from the organized chaos.

Now, eagerly and a little rowdily riding dead away from any well-worn trail, and any people likely to use it, under an unseasonably hot sun, they both knew what they were thinking about.

Eyes more on each other than on the scrubland they were wanderings through, a smoky hunger for the coming evening wreathed between them along with the spring breeze; sharing grins and shameless winks; Goody's voice slower to ramble than usual. Rougher.

It was torture.

When they saw a couple big willows next to a stream, hours before they'd normally stop, the look they shared wasn't a question: it was heated anticipation. They got their already sweated horses unsaddled and brushed with proper care, and both horses and themselves had a good taste and a splash of cooling water as they idly pointed out the salient features of their little oasis to each other for the pleasure of hearing each other rather than any need for the words.

But once they got their filthy coats and vests dumped for later washing, they wordlessly started moving just a little more hurriedly to set up their restless horses inside the curtain of ground-touching branches. They just had their gear in the general shape of their familiar camp when Goody suddenly sighed in exaggerated relief from next to the bedrolls he'd laid out, "Finally some privacy, mon beau(1)!" and proceeded to drop with the gangly gracelessness he developed when truly at ease, wriggling until he ended up lounging with his back against his saddle, hands immediately reaching for his gun belt. It completely distracted Billy where he was crouching next to his open saddlebags.
(1) my handsome one

Belt dropped within easy reach, his lover arched his body more than was strictly necessary to undo his pants, hips even rippling invitingly. Which made the bulge already present under the heavy material even more obvious in the half-shade.

But after missing it so badly, the almost sweet little smile curving Goody's lips as his head dropped back was just as responsible for holding Billy transfixed. He wanted to tease for the blatantly seductive moves, and for Goody's hat tumbling into the dirt without his usually fussy companion seeming to even notice. But he could only inch closer, lost in the alluring sight; as caught up in the man as the very first time he'd laid eyes on him, and forgetting about the pot he'd just set down until he accidentally knocked it over with a clatter.

Pale eyes slitted open at the racket, raking over him with naked desire. "Been dreamin' of that body of yours for two goddamned *weeks*, Billy." Even the memory seemed too much, drawing out a low moan and a less deliberate twist to his body before he got his pants off with a kick at his second boot, and pitched them toward the wash pile.

Billy's breath rasped out suddenly, his eyes painfully wide. Drawers and shirt still covered up most of his lover's skin, yet the promise they hid was enough to make him feel more than a little crazy. Goody's hand appeared in his line of sight, pulling Billy's eyes reluctantly away from temptation to meet his expectant look, glittering with pleasure at Billy's distraction, "Cher(1)?"
(1) Dear

The sight was seductive, was everything Billy desired: was home. To cover the few feet of grass and dirt between them and slide into those arms and lay his body over his lover's, ignoring the danger of anyone coming up to them unseen and kiss and stroke and fuck as loud as they wanted until they were both sticky and weak with the pleasure of each other.

But he'd spent those two weeks unable to even *look*, for both their sakes. Days keeping track of his mate with no more than glances, of Goody being as quiet and calm as he knew how to be to slide attention away from them. All the spark and spirit that could drive Billy mad when he needed an hour of quiet had been tamed and dulled, Goody's body utterly silent of the language they usually shared. He wanted his man back. To watch his lover peel himself out of the quiet stranger.

Sending his hat flying toward their clothes and then trying to find a position that didn't pull his pants so damn tight, Billy cleared his throat, "I want to watch you."

"Oh... " Billy could see Goody's eyes darken with the same arousal that stiffened his cock until it popped proudly though the slit in his grey drawers and into Billy's eager sight. "*Watch me*, is it? And just what might you be wanting me to demonstrate, mon p'tit voyeur(1)?" The words were challenging, but there was just a hint of shiver in the voice, a spark of excitement: Billy's own private showman coming back out of his safe hiding.
(1) my little voyeur

"You know what I want, Goodnight Robicheaux." He spoke slowly, letting his accent freely smooth the words, voice deliberately low, deliberately husky. Deliberate danger. For all he'd never threaten this man, it hadn't taken him long to figure out that Goody found his deadliness as arousing as Billy found his open smile and bright eyes and rambling husk.

Goody hesitated in something like surprise, but then a thin moan escaped his parted lips and his hand dropped to wrap around his cock, Billy shuddering as hard as Goody did at the tight grip.

"Fuck, Billy.." his eyes were still on Billy, just enough light for him to see the bare sliver of pale blue left to rim the hunger darkening the centers. And then Goody's eyelids flicked closed and the slow up-stroke of his fist pulled Billy's gaze and damn but he wished that shirt wasn't hiding most of the shudder that accompanied the move! Licking his too-dry lips at the sight of Goody's rough hand riding over the flushed head, palm giving a hard rub over the spreading slick, Billy was damn reluctant to look up as Goody's voice came muttering out of a gasp, catching him staring at Billy's mouth, "You.. Ain't never forgot that first time you wrapped your lips around me, Billy. You've got the prettiest fucking lips, si douces et souples(1)." Goody babbling any time Billy left his mouth free was nothing new, including rhapsodizing about Billy and his body, which Billy had learned to accept as part and parcel of Goody's way of truly saying he cared. But hearing the fantasies he had of Billy spoken aloud?... Billy shivered, his eyes too wide with the daylight hitting them.
(1) so soft and supple

"Oh Lord, yes." Goody's hand slid faster now, spreading more slick with every pass, his eyes shining on Billy's, "And your hands. I do so love your hands, cher. Your palms are so much softer than mine under those gloves," for a stroke, his palm pulled away, leaving only fingers touching the stiff shaft, words growing breathless, "But your fingertips... d'you know you play me, sometimes? Like yer tryin' a tell which a' yer knives yer holdin'- *damn* I missed ya, Billy!"

When Goody's eyes closed and his quick breathing was suddenly the only sound accompanying the wet schlick of skin slipping fast on hard flesh, Billy caught the pounding of his own pulse, the same rhythm of blood ticking at his fingertips and in his cock, the two of them louder for him than the water or wrens singing somewhere above. Reminded of his own body, he shifted himself in his usually comfortable trousers, groaning at his own touch, however quick and light.

Goody's hips thrust up at the sound, shoving his cock hard through the tight ring his fingers suddenly formed as his voice came back in a growl, "Aw Billy. Fuck... Was wantin' to fuck you as we rode here; fuck you hard and quick, like I know you love it. You gotta know how feeling you go crazy on me makes it a damn labour of Hercules to not just finish then and there." His hips gave a harder, shallower jerk, a move Billy *knew*: could almost feel the hard thrust against his ass, feel stretched around the slick heat of that hard shaft, the pressure sliding deep inside him until he felt filled, taken. Free to ride the streaks of pleasure every stroke sent through him; belonging, body and soul, to someone that fucking *loved* him.

Why had he bothered starting this game?? *Two* fucking weeks of no safety and no privacy. He could be over there with his cock buried in Goody's pulsing heat, those rough knuckles rubbing against both their bellies as Goody jerked himself to a quick finish, long legs wrapped warm around him and Goody's lips in reach-

"Goody," he had to clear his throat as Goody's eyes opened, dazed, tension arching his body ever closer to release, "Not.So.Fast."

Not that watching him unravel, knowing it was imagining Billy's body and touch that had him so hard and shivering, wouldn't be enough- But Goody's hand slowed, loosened, and Billy pulled himself together. Just a little longer. They stared at each for a few breaths, the underscoring humour at what they were doing to each other nonetheless overshadowed by frustration in Goody's expression, "Then *talk* to me, Rocks!"

Billy was brought up short by the idea. He knew he could chatter, when the mood struck, but deliberately making speeches was no skill of *his*! "I-"

"Ain't hardly heard your voice for two goddamn *weeks*, Billy! If you won't *touch* me..."

That quiet plea from his lover almost sent him forward without thinking. Teasing Goody was one thing; denying something he needed was not in Billy's makeup. But Goody'd been enjoying himself. And he'd asked Billy to play with him, not to end this. Billy cleared his throat, "Okay."

He could do this. Taking a moment to shift his feet and try to think of what to say, he watched as Goody slowly eased down along his backrest until his shoulders leaned on it, his eyes drifting close again as a momentary splash of sun landed across his face, hand and hips shifting to a slow, steady rhythm. When he broke the pattern to reach into his drawers and squeeze at his balls with a gasp, leaving his swollen shaft twitching with the jerk of his hips, Billy found at least a few familiar words.

"I want to suck you," Goody's eyes flew to his, mouth open in surprise, body suddenly stiff. Billy wanted that shirt out of his way, damn it. Wanted- "Hold you down and lick you long and slow," Goody's body under his and- "Off! Take your shirt off," he ordered, his voice gone husky, making himself slow it down. "I want to see you. All of you." Hell, he could hear his voice actually getting fucking *breathy* at the thought; he was so damn easy when it came to this man... He stared as Goody pulled the sweaty cotton off over his head in one quick jerk, revealing the old damages of war and the slick sheen of sweat on pale skin, fresh bruises on his side where that damn calf had kicked after he'd got the stupid creature out of a wash a few days ago, the movement making muscles flex that he'd felt holding *him* down.

He moaned when Goody settled back down and actually slid his drawers off without Billy needing to ask; his own private art lounging naked and dappled by sunlight and the willow's shifting shadows to stare to his heart's content: an acre of flushed skin dusted with pale hair, his cock standing up heavy and straight out of its wiry nest, dark focal point of the sight until Goody's tanned hand wrapped around it.

"Later... Later I touch you all day, Goody..." He wished he had the words to tell him just what seeing him like this did to him, willingly laying out his body, his pleasure, for no reason but his trust and affection for Billy. Asking for no more than Billy's voice to keep him company. Billy shifted again, knocking at his English to line up into sentences under Goody's appreciative gaze, "Kiss your eyes closed, stroke your cheekbone; suck your.. earlobe." The odd word always threw him, but the way Goody shivered and went so quiet whenever Billy lipped at the soft flesh was irresistible. Worth learning the damned word.

He wondered if they *could* find the patience to spend a day doing that. Goody was relaxing with his words, his body back to that mellow ripple he'd started with as his hand stroked slow, his grip tight and thumb taking shudderingly teasing swipes. He could slip the few feet over, lean down and- "Close my teeth on your lip," Goody's lips curved, pouting into a challenging smirk, even as his hand sped up, "Kiss you.. my tongue on yours, stroke you, suck you-"

He had to stop and breathe as Goody tensed with a moan in his throat as his hand suddenly tried to rush.

"Goody!"

Billy's snap actually worked and Goody stopped and dropped his grip to his balls for a few seconds with a smoldering look at Billy, loving threat in his husky voice, "You had best be aware, chéri(1), that I *am* going to want my own back for this show," he grinned at Billy, tense and sharp, "I might just make you prove these filthy fantasies true..."
(1) darling

Billy's laugh was choppy but entirely heartfelt as he smirked, "A pleasure, nae salang(1). Suck your cock until you beg." A thrill pulsed in his belly to watch Goody's hips jerk at his words, to hear that choked whine as he grabbed himself roughly.
(1) my love

"*Please*, Billy." The gasp had a touch of faked high pitch to it, but they both knew Goody *could* beg very prettily indeed.

"Hold your hands down and lick sweat off your belly," Goody's hand sped up again with a glare at Billy that he finally bowed to, "Finger your ass loose and hungry." Goody's eyes went wide and black on Billy's, that hand a blur that made Billy's cock burn with wanting to feel it, "Bite your shoulder so you bruised a week." His mouth dropped open watching Goody's neck stretch out in blatant invitation with a strained whimper that made Billy ache to taste it, made his voice choke roughly, "Fuck you so slow... Feel you howl against my lips-"

Hell *yes*! Watching as Goody's hips arched up high with a wordless shout of pleasure, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut, creamy spurts spending between his still frantically stroking fingers, Billy's cock throbbed on the edge of finishing. His breath was as loud in his ears as Goody's moans of relief as he slowly unfroze, legs twitching as he squeezed the last of his pleasure out to join the mess sliding off his belly.

Goody's eyes slowly opened and met Billy's, and having that lazy blue looking at him made Billy particularly conscious of his obvious lust; he swallowed hard, sweat sliding down his back, conscious of everything touching his overheated skin, trying to breathe through the need to reach for release in the wake of the wanton sight. He fucking *whimpered* when Goody slid until only his head rested against the saddle and languidly let his legs fall apart, smiling a dazed invitation.

Hunching over at the need arrowing through him, Billy shook his head, stuttering, "I.. would not.. not last." And *that* image wasn't helping to keep him from messing his pants while he hesitated with his eyes glued to his sated lover unabashedly offering himself to sate Billy's desire.

Goody's smile sharpened as he crooked a still-wet finger at Billy, "Viens, mon ange(1)." And damned if Billy didn't know he was deliberately letting his mouth stay open like that, his head already tilted back just so.. Hell! Billy groaned, no reason left to hold back, scrambling awkwardly over only to have Goody's brows rise and his palm turn toward Billy with a shake of the head, "I *do* adore your lovely arsenal, mon cher, but I don't think you want me to pay homage to your *edged* blades at this moment, do you?"
(1) Come, my angel

He'd already started fumbling at his knife-belt with shaking hands when he registered just what Goody was offering and couldn't help a huff as he set his weapons down before straddling Goody's shoulders with his knees, the thought enough to give him a moment of distraction, "I do not want to share you with my blades."

Staring down at his lover's mouth as he laughed, Billy moaned as he watched Goody's skilled tongue slick over his lips, hurriedly palming himself back enough to unbutton his pants, helplessly drawn straight back into the urgency, "Goody.." If he wasn't painfully close to shooting he would have sat and stared at that smile and those shining eyes and called himself the same fool in love that had actually gotten drunk with someone he'd just met. And Goody would have simply quoted him some fitting poetry.

"Right here, Billy," Goody's hands squeezing his ass encouraged him to rest his weight on his lover's solid chest as he worked, "Nowhere else I'd rather be." And then the last button gave in to Billy's fingers under Goody's eager eyes and he hummed appreciatively, "You may just wake up with me riding your lap, mon chéri. I was looking forward to feeling you fuck me raw."

Billy swore at the tease as he shuffled the inch forward to brush his oversensitive cock against the soft touch of those too damn talkative wet lips. Then he slid right into that hot, so willing mouth with a choked cry at the spasm of pleasure, his hands grabbing for the trim of Goody's headrest to have something to grip and try to hold off finishing before he could enjoy this.

"*Will* fuck you later," he growled the words as he pulled out gingerly, steadying his shaky muscles as he tortured himself with promises of how good this waiting would make the final pleasure, rubbing the tip of his cock some more against Goody's parted lips and seeking tongue, then pushed back in, fingers clenching on the worn leather he rested on, "Every inch inside you, hard and fast. Fill you up." Not like this: tense with careful restraint as Goody's moan of response and eager tongue and wet mouth on his desperately sensitive cock made him wish greedily for more.

Watching himself slide in and out, glistening with the same saliva coating Goody's lips and trickling through his beard, the world was reduced to nothing but the obscene slurp, his own breathless moans and the pleasure building up. He sometimes watched Goody's mouth when he rambled during the day, lost in memories of his lover doing this on his knees, getting so damn worked up that he'd been known to slide off his horse and push Goody up against the nearest tree to rub them both off fast and hot.

And Goody watched his face, as eager to see his pleasure as Billy had been to watch *his*. It was a measure of the open faith between them that it no longer made him self-conscious, even knowing he was flushed like dry fever and his expression was twisting with the pleasure burning up through his groin and the desperation to reach the damn finish. Even if the delay was his own doing.

A measure of the trust between them that Goody's hands didn't restrain, only set the pace; steady and fast. No teasing games today, just the nonstop slide into tight wet suck with the fast strike of a familiar tongue snaking over trigger points that made him jerk and shudder; and Billy was shaking like a leaf in a stampede, eyes shut, barely keeping his grip, seeing Goody's bright eyes and glistening lips in his mind and fuck he was *so* fucking close, now, and he didn't trust his body to remember where to stop, and had to make himself settle for shallow little thrusts, whimpering and not caring, needing Goody to change something to break the pool of pleasure pulsing behind his cock: more of that tongue, a finger, *something*. "Please, Goody," his voice was so damn choked he wasn't sure he was even talking English, let along anything Goody could understand, "Please please-"

He vaguely heard Goody hum and barely had time to notice the buzz of feeling from the man's tightened lips before the edge hit and he froze with a shout, toes and fingers curling in as he kept himself still to keep from thrusting into the hot, wet suction to hurry along the explosions of pleasure flowing down his cock and making him jerk and flinch and *fuck* so damn good!

"Fuck," he was shaking still, but now it was from the backlash of orgasm, sweat dripping from his temples onto Goody's saddle, clumsy and weak as he tried to push himself up on his knees and arms. "Fuck fuck fuck." The low litany fed into the last echoes of pleasure still taking him even as Goody gently pulled off him with a rough, low chuckle, the hands on his ass finally helping him up as Goody watched him with love-blind eyes.

If took a few more clumsy movements, but they finally ended up laying together, Goody slipping all the way flat as Billy flopped half on top of him, ear over Goody's heart; sleep an immediate, distinct possibility as his breath lost its desperation and Goody's hands stroked soothingly down his back. His shirt and pants now needed a wash from contact with Goody's naked and messy body. He should get up and.. change.. help Goody pull his...

He was already half asleep when Goody whispered, the obvious delight in every rolling word drawing Billy's mind from its slide into oblivion, "There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight," familiar tugs at pins tight against his skull were followed with gentle pets through his unpleasantly dust-mated hair, "And I aim to wake thee from this distinctly UNflowery bed ere I die in thy lap," Goody chuckled softly, though Billy was almost past hearing, let along caring why, "For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion."