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Argenti’s learned not to question where his beloved pulled his ideas from. Boothill’s mind is something else – always taking the non-conventional approach to things, however there’s one thing Argenti does know. He trusts Boothill implicitly – there is little that Boothill can suggest that he would turn down.
So, when Boothill approaches him with a catty smile on his face, Argenti already knows he’s going to enjoy it.
They haven’t been together long – a rare meeting amongst the cosmos – but Boothill had gone out an hour or so prior, looking determined more than anything. Content to wait for him, Argenti had filled the time with giving his armour a proper inspection, and he’s only just finished oiling the last leather strap when Boothill returns. “Welcome back, beloved,” Argenti says as he hears the door close, footsteps approaching. He sets the final vambrace on his armour rack and turns, wiping the oil off his hands as he does.
Boothill’s in his space quickly, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, and Argenti grabs his hips to pull him back for another when he goes to step back. “Everything alright?” He prompts once their lips part a moment later. “You left in such a rush.”
“Got a message that someone I was waitin’ for had arrived,” Boothill says as he steps back, sets his hat to the side. Next is his gun in its holster, set beside it. “Say, ‘Genti, remember our honeymoon?”
It’s a segue that he hadn’t expected, but he nods, crossing to perch on the end of the bed. “Of course – why do you ask?”
“What’d you think if I told ya I found a way to do something similar but-not in the dreamscape?”
All the pieces connect in a rush – Boothill’s grin, his sudden disappearance, the way he’s still standing near the door, as if waiting for Argenti’s agreement before opening it again. “I would think that my husband is a very resourceful man,” he says as one eyebrow quirks up. “And I would ask him to open the door and show me what he’s done, so we may experience it together.”
Boothill’s grin widens, and something akin to relief flickers in his eyes for a second before it’s gone, swallowed by what Argenti can only describe as anticipation. “You can say no,” Boothill says as if he doesn’t start any of his suggestions like that, as if Argenti’s ever done so. He knows he can, of course, but he’s never felt the need to. “But I got in touch with the memokeeper from Asdana.”
“Miss Black Swan?” That’s something he hadn’t expected.
“Mhm. And she gave me a – she called it a ‘token’-” Boothill fishes a coin out of his pant pocket, flips it in the air with a soft ting of metal on metal. “-that can act as an anchor.” A pause, and Argenti’s about to prompt him for more when Boothill pops their room door open again. “For this.”
The door swings open, and Boothill’s in the doorway. Except, he’s also not, standing inside their room, eyes flicking between Argenti and… him? The man in the doorway is clearly his beloved – the same shock of calico hair, though there are patches of honeyed blonde amongst the black as well. The hat he holds to his chest is different-a faded brown leather, clearly worn in patches, and the hand that holds it is decidedly not metal.
Cool grey eyes flick between him and his beloved, then the man who is decidedly Boothill but not takes a step forward and says, “Well, hello there,” in a voice that’s much, much softer than Boothill’s has been in the time Argenti’s known him.
Argenti looks back to Boothill – his Boothill – and says, “Explain?” Because it’s that or he say something far, far more damning.
Boothill waves the other in and locks up, then clasps him on the shoulder. “S’me from before the-uh.” He gestures at himself. I don’t know if it’s actually the me from then or a remnant memory or somethin’ but… It’s definitely me.”
Argenti crosses to them, places a hand over his heart, and bows to the new – or, old, really – Boothill. “Greetings, Boothill, version of my silver cowboy from long ago. I am Argenti, of the Knights of Beauty-” he starts, his customary greeting half-extended before his Boothill snorts out a rasping laugh.
“He’s me, ‘Genti, you don’t gotta be that polite.”
Argenti frowns a little bit, but lets the words dry up in his mouth as his Boothill slips his hand around his waist and pulls him into his side. Boothill’s not the one who usually initiates contact like this, so while Argenti leans into him, he tilts his head in silent question that his Boothill understands immediately. “Well I was thinkin’,” he starts, but the other Boothill cuts him off with a glint in his pretty grey eyes.
“He wants t’ sleep with both’a us. Together.” There’s a tinge of red on the younger Boothill’s ears despite the otherwise curious look on his face, and when he glances at his own Boothill, finds a matching blue flush. Argenti reaches up, pinches the tip of his Boothill’s ear lightly, and the colour grows, spreads down his ears.
“I am not opposed to it,” Argenti says before either Boothill can backtrack, or go into further detail. “However, it seems weighted heavily in my favour. What do you both get out of this?”
The other Boothill looks at him with surprise, but his own Boothill snorts out a, “Told ya,” before looking back at Argenti. “Get ‘ta see you drooling pretty on two cocks,” he says, and Argenti feels the flush start on his own cheeks. It doesn’t take back from the coiling warmth in his belly, though. He’s only interested in Boothill but – this is still Boothill. “I get to feel you another way, even if it’s not me doin’ it. And maybe I get to feel me again,” his words are softer this time, and a few moments later the other Boothill is stepping closer, hat set aside.
“If I’m about’ta lose this,” he says, gesturing at his body, “Then what better than one last hurrah?”
Argenti holds out his free hand, and the other Boothill takes it. His skin is warm, and the thrum of his pulse against Argenti’s fingers is unfamiliar, but welcome. He tugs, and Boothill follows, steps in closer and tips his head as Argenti draws him into a kiss.
It’s tentative at first, Argenti not sure what this version of Boothill likes, but then there’s a rapid intake of breath and Boothill takes over. Teeth worry at the back of his neck, over his spine, as Boothill from the past kisses him like he’s drowning, coaxing Argenti’s lips apart. An arm curls around his waist, pulling him back against a hard, familiar body. Another hand settles on his hip, fingers pressing tight enough to divot the skin. The hand in his holds tighter, fingers linking with his.
Boothill breaks the kiss with a gasp, and Argenti’s head tips back to rest on his cowboy’s shoulder. That doesn’t deter the Boothill in front of him, raggedly catching his breath with his lips finding Argenti’s throat. Teeth – sharp as his own Boothill’s – nip at his throat, dig into the soft flesh of his shoulder, knocking a gasp loose from Argenti’s chest. “Darlin’,” is murmured in his ear, the soft puff of breath from behind him oh so familiar. “You gonna let us take you to bed?”
Argenti nods. What else is he to do? He nods, and his Boothill uses the arm at his waist to tug back, the other Boothill walking forward. Argenti feels the moment that his Boothill’s knees catch the edge of the bed, then the two of them are toppling backwards as the other Boothill watches with dark eyes.
“He trusts ya,” The other Boothill says, staring down at them. He places a knee on the bed, undoes the top two buttons of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. His skin is anything but perfect – marred by scars across the breadth of him, including a wound that looks barely-healed, soft and pink. Boothill smiles at the sound Argenti makes, says, “M’fine, don’t worry about it,” and crawls up the bed as his Boothill pulls them both up, settles Argenti into his lap.
Argenti’s hand settles at the other Boothill’s warm hip, draws him in close until Argenti’s pinned between them again. The skin under his palms is warm and unfamiliar as he drags his hand up Boothill’s spine, but his Boothill’s soft, encouraging sounds in his ear keep him going. Lips find his, soft and chafed, but this Boothill’s sounds are so sweet when Argenti tugs at his lip with his teeth. Hands slide against Argenti’s belly, cool metal making him shiver as they slide under his shirt, start to tug it up.
The Boothill above him dips his head, then moves down, kisses the exposed skin, chasing the line of fabric as his Boothill draws it higher still. Teeth and lips trace over the scars littering Argenti’s body, up until a nipple is exposed to the air and the other Boothill laps over it with a wicked, familiar tongue.
Argenti moans, languid, and there’s a huff of a laugh under him. He’s so easy when it comes to Boothill and he knows it, doesn’t find any shame in it even though the tips of his ears darken. “I think,” his Boothill murmurs, “That you should take his pants off.” Argenti thinks he’s speaking to him for a second, but then the Boothill above him is nodding against his chest and drifting lower again. Hands pull his belt free, work at the fly of his pants, and within seconds the fabric is being pulled down. Teeth dig into Argenti’s belly, enough to have him gasping, then they’re gone again, mouth tracing down the inside of his thigh. His pants get tossed somewhere, then his underwear follows a moment later, no hesitation in this Boothill’s hands.
His half-hard cock doesn’t stay that way for long – Argenti barely takes a breath in before a tongue traces up the length of him, curls against the slit. This Boothill teases differently – there’s less patience in his hands, in his eyes when Argenti glances down. Argenti shivers, splays his legs wider over his Boothill’s hips, As soon as the other Boothill realises Argenti is watching him he grins, pulls Argenti’s cock into his mouth.
Wet, warm – it’s just like when his Boothill does it, but the touch is more urgent, firmer. Racing to a finish Argenti’s more than happy to meander to. He reaches down, palms the back of Boothill’s head, bites back a moan when he responds by pushing deeper onto his cock. “Boothill,” he gasps quietly, and his beloved cups his belly, pulls him back until he’s pressed to his Boothill’s front. The thick, ridged silicone is pressed against his spine, resting against the top of his buttocks, and Argenti can’t help but push his hips back, only to have the other Boothill chasing.
His Boothill cups the back of the other’s head, digs his fingers into the other’s hair, and slows him down. “Take yer time,” he drawls, “We’re not gonna disappear.” Eyes flash up at him but the tongue against the underside of Argenti's cock slows, laps, and the suction around him gentles little by little.
Then he’s pulling off entirely and Argenti can’t help the desperate little moan. He buries it into his hand but both Boothills hear anyway, and those pretty grey eyes below him sharpen. “Need somethin’?” He asks against Argenti’s inner thigh. Then he’s biting, leaving a mark that blends in with the other fading ones his Boothill had left earlier.
When Argenti’s hips jerk, his Boothill speaks, the soft echo of the words rumble through the metal body at his back. “Let him prepare you? I promise it’ll be good.” Argenti nods, head falling back against Boothill’s shoulder. He’s lifted then, one of his Boothill’s hands enough to reposition him, to give the other Boothill access to more of him. “Go on, you can touch,” his Boothill continues, but this time it’s not aimed at him.
Warm hands cup his ass, pull him apart. The warm huff of breath tickles his skin, then Boothill’s tongue is tracing patterns along the base of his shaft, over his sac. Lower still, dragging over the furl of his hole. He moans, shaky, at the touch, at the way spit is cooling against his skin. “Relax,” his Boothill purs in his ear, and a moment later the tongue is back, firmer. It’s a little more than teasing, coaxing even – kitten licks over Argenti’s skin until he relaxes into it. He does, little by little, more than familiar with Boothill’s touch, and the hand on his belly slides up to grope his chest instead.
He hitches one leg over Boothill’s shoulder, and the hand on that side splays wider in response, holding it steady. Relaxing into Boothill is second nature now, the slow, steady build of pleasure one he relishes in, gives himself over to. His Boothill smiles against the back of his neck, pinches his nipple between metal digits. Rolls it firm, and Argenti moans again, a little sharper.
The teasing tongue presses inside him, and Argenti’s breath catches. The hand on his thigh rubs back and forth, soothes, and then that tongue digs deeper still, coaxing his body open. It’s joined by a finger, then a second when Argenti’s hips start rocking into the touch. Soft, sharp pants fall from Argenti’s lips as his hand curls against Boothill’s at the back of their visitor’s head, a plea to his Boothill’s directive.
A third finger slips in, stretches him further. Draws away to grasp for something, then those fingers come back slick with lubricant. A fourth, and Argenti’s thighs quiver, pressure starting to build. “Will he relax if he comes?” The voice between his legs isn’t directed at him, and he’s glad for it – Argenti’s not sure he could wrangle his tongue into forming words right now. It pleases something deep inside him to hear the conversation about him like he isn’t there. He trusts Boothill implicitly, knows his beloved will never put him at risk.
“Mmh, he will, so sweetly too.” A low laugh, then teeth dig into the back of his neck for a short, sharp moment. “Go on, sweet thing, show him how pretty y’are when ya come.”
The fingers in him dig deeper, and Argenti’s breath shudders out of him. Instead of the focus being solely on stretching him wider, those talented fingers press deeper, gliding over his walls, searching-
Argenti’s hips jerk without his conscious movement, a sound ripped from him. It happens again as endorphins flood his system, as his cock twitches and leaks against his belly. Boothill’s warm fingers grind against his prostate, unforgiving, and he has to shove Argenti’s thighs open again as they try to close around his head. “Ah- no, no escaping,” he purrs, less softer, higher pitched than his Boothill and yet so, so familiar. “Take it fer me, be a good boy, an’ come,”
It’s coupled with a firm rub against his prostate and Argenti breaks, the low thrum inside of him pulling tight and snapping. He clenches tight, Boothill’s fingers feeling massive inside him as he does, then there’s a low curse between his legs as he comes, coating his belly and dripping down through the coarse red hair. “Shit,” is the soft breath beneath him, then a warm, wet tongue is laving up the still-twitching underside of his cock and Argenti moans again, higher, shakier.
As his body sags into Boothill, his hole is tugged wide, stretching and he shudders. A metal finger traces the taut rim of his hole, presses inside amongst the other Boothill’s fingers. Argenti clenches pathetically, shivers. “Boothill,” he gasps, and the rumbling hum of response is echoed, both responding in kind. There’s a kiss against his belly, wet warm spit chasing the lines of come as Boothill licks his skin clean. He nuzzles into Argenti’s skin, grabs one of Argenti’s hips. Metal lands on the other, and together the Boothills lift him. A moment later the fingers pull free of his body, then he’s being lowered, dropped slow and careful. Slick silicone meets his rim, slides in with little resistance. He’s eased down as his voice cracks, as he’s filled so, so deeply.
With the way they’re propped up against the headboard, Argenti knows Boothill can see down the length of his body, knows that the low laugh that escapes him is from the valiant twitch of Argenti’s cock as his body immediately responds. “Insatiable,” is the purr at his ear, Then Boothill’s hands on him are urging him to move, pushing him forward onto his hands. The other Boohill shuffles backwards, grin on his face the moment he works out what Argenti’s Boothill is planning, then Argenti’s on his hands and knees and there’s a cock in front of his mouth, twitching with every puff of breath that lands on it.
“Warm him up,” his Boothill purrs, punctuating it with a lazy, deep grind of his hips. Argenti’s elbows shake but he leans forward anyway, rubbing parted lips over the side of this Boothill’s shaft. They catch the drip of pre, salty and tantalising, and fingers curl into his hair as he nibbles the sensitive skin next to Boothill’s shaft, then licks his way back up.
He wiggles his hips, gets a groan as it makes him clench around his Boothill’s cock. Argenti opens his mouth, pulls the tip of the other Boothill’s cock into his mouth, and moans as his Boothill takes it as the cue to start fucking him. It’s salty, musky, nothing like how his Boothill tastes and Argenti can’t get enough of it. The size is familiar enough, thick and hot on his tongue, and he takes Boothill deeper at both ends with a choked-off moan. His Boothill keeps his pace steady, pressing in deep with each thrust, and Argenti slides his mouth lower until Boothill’s cock is resting in the back of his throat. presses deeper still, fights off a gag as the man above him moans breathlessly, does it again and again until a firm grip in his hair holds him still.
Boothill takes over, then – fucks his mouth in long, deep thrusts as Argenti relaxes into the grip. He feels light, lighter than he has in a long while, drifting and overwhelmed soft sounds escaping whenever Boothill pulls back long enough to free them.
The thrusts into his mouth get erratic, little by little. Argenti knows he’s dripping onto the sheets below them, both his mouth and his cock leaking steadily, and can’t bring himself to care. The only thing he cares about is the emptiness of his mouth between one thrust and the next – he opens his lips wider, sticks his tongue out as he leans into the grip in his hair, lashes fluttering open to look up at the Boothill above him.
“Wherever y’want,” his Boothill says with a grunt, then the other Boothill is wrapping a hand around his cock, jerking it once, twice. He comes with a choked-off sound, and Argenti opens his mouth wider as the splatter of come hits his skin. Most of it misses his mouth – clearly not where Boothill had been aiming. It splatters his cheeks, his lips, the bridge of his nose, drips off his jaw to join the spit stains on the sheets. He whines – high, needy, and so unlike him outside of the bedroom. Boothill’s marked him, and as Argenti is about to lick some of it off his lips, Boothill grabs his chin, tugs his mouth back open, and spits.
It hits his tongue, warm. Argenti whines again, then a firm thumb is pressing his mouth closed. “Swallow,” is the command, and Argenti doesn’t hesitate – he swallows, opens his mouth again to prove it, and Boothill moans shaky and breathless. A moment later and he spits into Argenti’s mouth again, though this time he keeps Argenti’s mouth open, glides his thumb over Argenti’s cheeks, his jaw, the blade of his nose. He presses the collected come into Argenti’s mouth too, then lets go of his chin, giving Argenti a choice.
Argenti swallows, again.
“Oh, you’re so good,” Boothill purrs, and Argenti flutters his lashes up at him, whole body clenching at the praise. A heavy thrust from behind has his attention ripping back, though – his Boothill not giving him any quarter now. Not until two pairs of hands pull him upright, and two pairs of hands push him back into each thrust. He’s trembling, sharp and sudden, eyes wide and lashes clinging as the dampness in his eyes turns to the drip of overwhelmed tears.
“Please,” he says, gasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. “Inside, in me, please.”
The other Boothill shifts closer, presses against his front. Each of his Boothill’s thrusts rocks him forward against him, rubs his cock against Boothill’s belly as it hardens once again. He’s dragged into a kiss as Boothill’s thrusts get faster, shakier, then there’s a pulse of wet inside him and he moans into Boothill’s mouth. He grabs his Boothill’s hip, shoves himself back into it.
Boothill’s barely finished moving when he pulls Argenti backwards, sits back on his heels and props Argenti wide on his thighs. The other Boothill moves closer, and – the two of them exchange a look over Argenti’s shoulder that he doesn’t even consider trying to decipher. Instead he just relaxes into Boothill’s grip, sagging against his strong body. The other Boothill pushes in close again, presses a line of sucking kisses down Argenti’s throat. As he does, his fingers slide down Argenti’s sides, find where he’s stuffed full with silicone cock and artificial come, and shoves a finger inside him. He’s plenty loose but it still feels massive, feels like he’s being stretched all over again as that finger turns into two.
“Boothill,” He whispers, voice shaking, and gets a kiss at the back of his neck, a quiet, reassuring hum.
“You’re okay,” his Boothill murmurs in his ear, and he knows it’s a check-in. A query, rather than a demand.
“It’s-It’s a lot,” he says, but he nods, hair sticking to the lines of sweat on his face as he does. “But I wan’it. Both of you.” It’s true – he’s not had it before, not thought about it before, but now that the opportunity to have both Boothills inside of him at once is here, he finds he’s craving it with every fibre of his being. To be sandwiched between them – to be stretched to his limits and feel the heavy thrum of both of their hearts against his skin as he’s filled more than every before – he’d be insane to turn it down.
A third finger tugs at his rim, slick and warm, and Argenti forces his body to relax, to take it. “Mmh, slow,” he whispers, and those fingers slow down, steady as three hands stroke over his sides, his thighs. The contact settles him, as does the lips at his ear, the warmth of the two bodies he’s trapped between. “Yeah-like that, mmh.” His voice fails him then, soft and breathy, but Boothill doesn’t stop stretching him.
“Ready?” One of them asks the question, Argenti’s not sure which. He nods anyway, shivers as the fingers are pulled out, as Boothill’s cockhead lines up where Argenti’s already full. Argenti grabs him, then – pulls him in with hands around his waist, legs clamping tight around his Boothill’s thighs under him. He nods again when that’s all he gets, when it’s clear they’re waiting for an answer.
Argenti opens his mouth to beg, but he only gets the first syllable out when the other Boothill’s cock nudges in alongside his Boothill’s. His whole body tenses for a moment, air kicking out of him in a squeak. Then his cock is twitching and he’s coming with a soft pant, tightening around both cocks inside him. Both Boothill’s swear – though his own Boothill buries the sharp fork in the back of Argenti’s neck. Then, as he relaxes again, as his legs hang limply and his mouth falls open, Boothill pushes the rest of the way inside.
The fullness is overwhelming, at first – Argenti’s sensitive, overstimulated, and the cocks inside him just sit there – but they bully his insides with their presence, forcing him to open wide enough. He can feel the steady thump of the other Boothill’s heartbeat in his cock, both sets of lips against his skin, and he’s so, so close to imploding that he’s not sure which way up is. It’s overwhelming, it’s everything, it’s more than he can take and not enough all at once, and as he breathes through it, Both pairs of lips move from his skin. Then, a soft, wet sound. Argenti tilts his head, dazed, finds the other Boothill’s pulled his one into a wet kiss. They hold so, so still, but Argenti can see the way their jaws work, the soft slick of spit covered lips parting and meeting filling the room. It’s enough – the distraction brings Argenti back to his body, gives him the handful of moments he’d needed to find his limbs amongst the static. He shifts his hips, hole fluttering around the intrusion, and the Boothills part with a wet gasp.
Argenti isn’t sure who reacts first, but one of the cocks inside him pulls back, shoves forward, nudges the other into a counterpoint rhythm. They’re slow to start, getting a feel for each other, and for a moment Argenti wonders if anything else will satisfy him ever again. Lips meet his, more gasping than kissing, then another set joins. He’s passed between them as they grow confident in their movements, as the static filling Argenti’s bones settles into a deep, shaking pleasure. It fizzes up, over, and he comes again with a soft punch of breath. His cock jerks, barely anything leaking out, and one of the Boothill’s laughs low and pleased into his mouth.
They give him no reprieve – and he doesn't ask for any. He comes again with dry, shuddering gasps, and again, until he’s outright sobbing at the overstimulation. He can feel the heady twitch in the other Boothill’s cock, knows they’re both close by the way their fingers dig tight into his skin. He wants it – wants them to fill him, wants it to drip out of him, wants it to-
A shaky moan, then the other Boothill stiffens, erratic thrusts pulling to a shivering stop. The warm heat of his orgasm fills Argenti, and – he moans soft and wet, chants “Yes, yes, yes,” under his breath as his Boothill stutters behind him as well. It borders on too much – he’s so full, there’s so much in him and dripping out between their cocks and he’s so, so warm inside. Argenti pulls them into a kiss, one after the other, then he’s tucking his face against his Boothill’s throat as his ears turn pink.
“It’s dripping out,” his Boothill rumbles under him, breath steady, still. Only the flutter of his pulse against Argenti’s cheek betrays his exertion. “Grab a plug from the nightstand.”
The other Boothill’s softening cock slips from him and Argenti moans in dissatisfaction, the emptiness feeling so, so strange. He still has his Boothill’s cock in him, he shouldn't be feeling empty, and yet – here they are. The slide of a drawer, and the other Boothill must find where Boothill’s stashed the thing because he’s back a moment later. Argenti’s Boothill slips free as well, silicone almost burning to the touch from Argenti’s body heat, then a thick plug is sliding straight in afterwards. It doesn’t catch it all – so much has dripped into Boothill’s lap already, covering both of their cocks, but it’s enough. Argenti takes a heaving, unsteady breath. His eyes flutter closed, and he has to fight to open them again.
“You can rest, ‘Genti,” his Boothill murmurs, pressing a warm kiss to Argenti’s cheek. “We’ll wake you up in a bit.”
“You’d better,” Argenti says – slurs, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. The last thing he hears is laughter, two complementary tones. It’s beautiful, he thinks – they’re beautiful.