Chisolm’s drunken gringo Alpha rolls off his horse smelling like a warm loaf of pambazo fresh out of the oven, burning candles made of good quality beeswax, and thick, salty come. Vasquez wants to punch him in the face and then lick him everywhere.
Fucking Omega hormones.
The fact that an Alpha dare smell like that and be a colossal prick at the same time is one of biggest jokes the good Lord has ever played on him in his miserable life. He can only imagine how his sisters would laugh at him if they knew. Maria Lucia especially would never let him live it down.
His thoughts don’t dwell to long on his friend or any of her sisters, nor do they linger on his parents or big brother. He has carefully avoided thoughts of them since the ranger, since he lost what should have only been his to give, and the bounty made it clear that he would likely never see them again. Throwing in the town Chisolm intends to save and that “never” was suddenly a lot sooner Vasquez was expecting.
He has been afraid for a long time, afraid and alone and tired. So tired but the first night with Chisolm’s lot, he sleeps. That’s the best part of hitching his wagon to this mismatched lot. He can rest without fear for the first time he can remember, and that obnoxious Faraday’s scent only distracts him a little as he drifts away.
With them, he eats three times a day, hot food and hot coffee. There’s no sugar for the coffee and too much salt on the tack but he doesn’t care. He’s not sleeping with a corpse and he’s not hungry and he’ll take that.
What he won’t take is the way a few steady meals and a few good nights rest are bringing on a goddamn heat when there’s a fucking war coming. It's too dangerous. He can't tolerate that kind of distraction and with gringo "medicine" nowhere near as effective for him as what he used to get from the curanderos back home, there's really one thing that would stave off a heat.
So when Faraday throws his cigar at him, Vasquez takes that as the invitation he’s been waiting for and hauls him into the Imperial.
“What happened to your Marias?” Faraday asks.
“Callate, guero,” Vasquez growls, shoving him onto the squeAky bed of the room he “shared” with Red Harvest.
He tears at the buttons of Faraday’s pants open and tugs them down enough to free that thick Alpha cock with a grin. Yes, That would work. One decent ride, wide knot, and thick load and his heat will hold off. If they do live long enough for this ridiculous gringo’s seed to catch, well, he knows things to take care of the problem too. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to take care of this kind of problem with a tincture or a tea or the aid of woman in a small town with no Catholic priests for a few hundred of miles.
Faraday, for his part, is eloquent as always. “Holy shit.”
“Mmm. You going to fuck me?” He asks, smiling brightly in the shadows of the afternoon. “Can you smell it, guero?”
His blue eyes are blown in the low light. “Since the day you rolled into camp, you asshole.”
“Then you know. Siente lo resbaladizo que soy para ti, guero.” He takes Faraday’s hand and slides it behind his balls and between his cheeks where he's dripping. “Tan mojado.”
“Whatever you say, jeffe,” Faraday groans. “Jee-zus wept, you’re fucking flooded back there." He crooks his fingers in the rim, tugging Vasquez's soaking asshole open in a move that is nothing but a tease and asks, "Can I stick my knot in your ass or you just want my fist?”
Vasquez is about to tell him where he can stick it but pauses, taken aback at the thoughtfulness of it. Most Alphas wouldn’t offer a replacement, taking any offered Omega hole as an open-ended acceptance of anything they want to give. It’s charming in an awkward, off putting sort of way. “Need you to come inside me, guero. Maybe another time you can show me how you please Ethel and your Maria, sí?”
“Get all you together, make it a group thing,” Faraday groans, going up on his knees and pushing Vasquez onto his back now. That works for all of thirty seconds before it appears that Faraday can’t actually find Vasquez’s ass from a hole in the ground. When he does get close, all he manages is to catch his head on the rim and that is just frustrating.
Oh, sí, the world’s greatest lover, his leaking, aching ass.
“Mijo,” he begins and he’s going to ask if Faraday knows what he’s doing but stops himself. He does have some tact and knows the answer already. “Let me just sit on your cock. It will be easier for all of us.”
“Whatever you want,” Faraday offers expansively. “It’s your ass.”
That it is. He pushes Faraday back and oh, yes, his cock is rather nice. Long and thick with the beginning of a knot forming at the base. Vasquez swings a leg over his hip as easy as mounting a horse and slides down with a sigh. He plants one hand on Faraday’s pale chest and places the other low on his belly, just above his cock, enjoying the sensation of being full. “Si,” he sighs, “Si, es muy bueno, guero.”
“Joshua.” Faraday says from beneath you. “You got my cock inside you, you can call me Joshua.”
“Joshua. Hm.” He begins to rock, back and forth, back and forth like a steady crash of waves while Joshua tries to meet him thrust for thrust.
His timing is terrible, jarring against him awkwardly, almost painfully. Vasquez slaps his chest. “Para.” He pushes his hand down, hard. “Dame.”
Joshua’s eyes are blown with lust and he laughs, confused and aroused and, Vasquez is proud to claim, a little bit delighted. “I have no fucking idea what you’re saying but fuck, your fucking ass, Vasquez, I don't care. Fuck. Your goddamn pussy's so hot, so wet, Christ. Whatever you want. Whatever you fucking want.”
“I’m saying you’re a terrible lover. Damnit, Joshua, stay still,” Vasquez growls, vibrating from deep in his chest and throat in the general vicinity of where a purr would normally emirate. He likes the things Joshua is saying, the timbre, the coarse words, the dirty edge but he needs man's body to catch up with his mouth. “Y fucking dame tu.”
“Whatever you say,” Joshua drawls, relaxing his whole body all at once except his cock which is still hard inside Vasquez. His solid length is all Vasquez needs to get himself buttered up and soft and purring like a real pussycat.
Without Joshua's awkward attempts at lovemaking getting in the way, Vasquez can lose himself in the pleasure of easing the growing ache inside. His body is used to hard work, can handle this single-minded, desperate, effort of sweating and panting and his ass dragging up and down on that thickness every slide helps him claw that much closer to his orgasm and relief. The world has narrowed to nothing but himself in the burn of his muscles and the wet, fullness of near-ecstacy in his hole until he feels a hand on his face, smoothing through his beard.
“Ain’t you something?” Joshua muses. He’s still lying pliant, but he’s stroking over Vasquez face now and then down his neck, thumbing a swollen, sensitive nipple and back up to his cheek. “Ain’t you just something else, you gorgeous thing?”
The contact brings them together in a strange way that Vasquez wasn’t expecting, makes this less about his desperation and more about that rightness of sturdy candles and good bread and hot, thick come. Joshua moves his hand back up, through his beard again, to smooth the rough pad of his thumb over Vasquez lower lip, back and forth, real gentle-like.
Vasquez doesn't really think about sucking Joshua's thumb into his mouth. He just does it, tasting the sand and dust and heat of Rose Creek on his skin and beneath that the Alpha that's been calling to him since the idiot practically fell off his horse, and that’s it. He’s crashing over the edge into orgasm and his clenching is enough to trigger Joshua’s knot, pushing against his insides, pushing against his prostate and spreading him wide, so wide that tears sting his eyes as it hurts so good and makes him come again, rocking spasms in his channel that manifest as nothing more that sad little dribbles of semen out of his cock.
He sags forwards on his elbows as Joshua shoots into him, filling him with hot, wet seed and easing the hunger that could have driven this little mission off course. He closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation for all of thirty seconds before the guero opens his mouth and ruins it.
“A man could go blind in a fly-trap like yours,” Joshua murmurs and Vasquez snorts.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“The highest.” Joshua assures him as his hand strokes up and down his spine. The gesture feels nice. He wasn’t really expecting nice from this Alpha, no matter how good he smelled and how well he fits inside him.
“Then you need to work on your compliments.” Vasquez chides and he can feel Joshua laugh better than he can hear it, sprawled atop him like this. “And also your technique.”
“Well, aren’t you full of constructive criticism.”
“So, we make it through this in one piece? We can maybe work on those weaknesses of yours together, no, Joshua?”
He feels Joshua press his face against the top of his head. He thinks he’s smiling but he can’t be sure. “Yeah. I think that sounds pretty damn good to me. "