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The Good, The Bad, and The Sexy
GOOD EXCUSES
In the wild west, outlaws could outrun just about everyone, except Satoru Gojo, of course. Bounties took him to every city on the southwest frontier, but Tombstone, Arizona was by far his favorite. The booming silver town was a hotspot for outlaws, and the Sheriff there was more than a little hot himself. Unfortunately, the rapidly growing town kept the long-haired Sheriff too busy for the simple pleasures of life. He couldn't be found at the saloons or gambling halls. Gojo never saw him catching a show at the Bird Cage Theater. But the dedicated sheriff personally oversaw every arrest in the county.
"For your efforts," Geto said. He tossed Gojo the $50 owed for the bounty. The unconscious ruffian was already on his way to the jailhouse.
"Thank you, Sheriff." Gojo pocketed the coin, but didn't move from where he was leaning on Geto's desk.
"Do you need anything else, Gojo?" He said, impatient.
"Not really, I'm just curious," said Gojo. "Where's the money?"
"What? I just gave you your money, now get off my desk." Geto shooed him with a wave.
"Not my money. Yours. The bounty was for catching one man, dead or alive, who robbed a Wells Fargo wagon headed from here to Bisbee. But I never laid eyes on the stolen $425." Geto didn't like his tone or the way his blue eyes scanned him expectantly.
"Are you saying you know where it is?"
"Not at all. But I've a feeling you do, Sheriff." Gojo said.
"I don't like what you're implying." Geto shifted in his seat. It was true he had some idea the money was still in town. In all his years as sheriff, he'd never had fewer complaints from shopkeepers, especially the bars.
"So the money is out there. I'm just surprised you're not trying to make the most of it. Take your chip off the table, and someone else will have all the fun."
"Does it look like I need money to you?"
"Everybody needs something," Gojo said. The way Gojo looked at him felt like an invitation. One that if he stared too long, he just might accept. But instead, he turned to grab another coin from his desk, tossing it in Gojo's direction.
"Not me." He said definitively. "If the bounty wasn't enough for you, all I can offer is a drink. The Star is the best bar in town, I'm sure Shoko will take care of you."
"Very well," Gojo said. He looked over Geto once more before tipping his hat and heading out the door.
Should he have gone with him? There was a time in his life when he might have. His shoulders relaxed, and he slumped back in his chair. Not like I could keep up with a man like that anyway. He was contemplating how many drinks he might actually be able to handle when he heard gunshots.
Gojo didn't drink. But Geto never asked. In truth, they never talked much, save for their work. So they got to know each other little by little under the roof of the sheriff's office. Gojo could sense something between them in the way they brushed hands on occasion. Gojo even caught him staring at his ass once or twice, though Geto would deny it. But if his occupation was any clue, he didn't mind the chase. Gojo always looked for a reason to stick around town a little longer. Lucky for him, a thief at large was a good excuse. He took Geto's advice and headed straight for the saloon.
"Pardon me, I'm looking for a little information here on a stagecoach robbery that happened last week near Bisbee. I have reason to believe the culprit came back here," Gojo said.
Few patrons acknowledged him, and even fewer bothered to look his way. His polished boots stuck on the tacky remnants of spilled liquor as he sauntered inside. Even the colors of the furniture and floorboards were dull shades of booze. He hated bars. Gojo flipped his gun skyward and fired right through the ceiling. Some scuffing of chairs, and suddenly, he had an audience, all readying their weapons.
"The things I gotta do to have a conversation around here. Now let's…" He was cut off before he could finish. "Look pal, we don't know nothing about no stagecoach, so get lost."
"Then at least tell me who's been keeping this bar so busy." Gojo was searching the crowd for anyone out of place, but it was just one hapless loser after another. Disappointed, there wasn't much more he could do but wait. In situations such as these, the guilty always pulled the trigger first. The fabric of his shirt clung to his elbow, bent ready to respond.
The first shot came from the back near the bar, missing him by a solid foot and digging into the wooden door frame of the saloon.
"Missed me," Gojo said. He cocked the hammer of his Colt single-action army revolver as it was still clearing his holster. In a fraction of a second, he fired from his hip, and the deafening crack of bullets filled the space. Some men fired, some fled, but Gojo moved faster than the white smoke could settle. He confronted the gunman where he stood, slightly dazed from taking one of Gojo's bullets to the arm.
"Heavy pockets messing with your aim?" Gojo said. The man was struggling to reload his gun when Gojo hit him with a left hook to the jaw that laid him out on top of the bar. Silver coin flew from his pockets, clattering on the counter and to the floor.
"Should've spoken up, look at the mess you caused." Gojo was half hoping for more of a fight. But the extra cash and the look on the sheriff's face would more than make up for it. Gojo was careful not to get any blood on his shirt as he hoisted him up.
"And what about the mess YOU caused?" He had barely noticed Shoko getting up from behind the bar. Her scowl and clenched fists made him wary of turning to assess the damage. The splintered legs of chairs and tables were scattered around the room. Men groaned on the floors, now sticky with sweat and blood, on top of the alcohol. So much for the extra cash.
"My apologies, miss. This outta cover it." Gojo gestured to all the strewn-about coin and started heading out of the saloon.
He had just cleared the swinging doors when Geto bowled into him.
"Ahh, Sheriff! If you're here for a drink, I think they just closed," Gojo said. Geto looked from him to the bloodied man, back to him, and sighed.
"What on earth have you done? I gave you coin for a beer, and instead you shot up my bar." Gojo probably should have told him by now that he didn't drink, but it would be bad manners to refuse a gift from a man like him.
BAD MANNERS
Geto already had him by the shirt collar, dragging him to the sheriff's office.
"You get off on causing me trouble? Because it seems every time you're in town, I end up with more problems than you solve." Geto said, releasing him. Several of Gojo's shirt buttons had come loose, exposing the broad, strong lines of his collarbone and chest. He was more undone from being hauled to the Sheriff's office than from the actual fight.
"So Shoko gets to buy some new furniture, and the loose ends are tied up, you're welcome," Gojo said.
"I didn't ask."
"You could have."
"No. I would've handled it, I just needed some more time and for you to quit poking around." He was getting heated and sat back on his desk. Scanning Gojo's tall, muscular figure, it amazed him how he always got out of fights unscathed.
"Perhaps if you let me in a little more, I wouldn't need to poke around. Though I don't think I've done anything that's crossed a line."
"If that's what you read from our encounters, you need to try a little harder."
"If I'm being honest, I've read quite a few things," he said. Gojo took his hat off, and the glint in his eyes shone brighter. More electric.
He felt somewhere in between decking him in the face and kissing his hot, arrogant mouth. The sun was beginning to set, and Geto figured it couldn't hurt to put his duties aside for one night.
"Alright, mind reader. What do I want right now?" said Geto. He leaned back on his hands, creating space and the slightest invitation of his own.
"A shot of whiskey. Maybe something a little stronger? It's foggy. You'll have to tell me." The friction of their denim jeans sent heat up his core as Gojo closed the space between them. He was locked in place by Gojo's strong thighs, and Geto wondered if maybe he did need a drink.
"Something stronger? Maybe." Geto said.
"Well, if I'm right," Gojo's chest pressed against him as he leaned to speak into his ear, "then I wanna hear it."
Geto let the stubborn remnants of his frustration keep him from speaking. Rather, he pressed a kiss to Gojo's neck. Did every part of him have to be so alluring? If this was the first time Gojo was going to listen, he intended to drag it out. Even so, he could feel his resolve slipping. He untucked the back of Gojo's shirt, letting his fingers trail up his lower back.
"Tell me," Gojo said. He pressed into Geto with his hips, and Geto's cock strained against his jeans in response. "With words," he added. He could feel Gojo's breath on his ear, then on his jaw, before his lips were inches from his own.
"Fine," Geto said. His lips melted into Gojo's as he spoke, letting the taste of him flood his senses. Gojo began pulling away, and he bit his lower lip in protest. He wanted him. To touch him, and be touched by him. He wanted to know if his abs were perfectly toned from all the days spent riding horses across the desert. And he wanted to know why he always left town so soon. His hand was caught in Gojo's strong grip just as he reached for the remainder of his shirt buttons.
"Fine, what?" Gojo said.
Geto laughed lightly. "It's clear, is it not?" He didn't expect to see Gojo this way. Practically hanging on his words. Was it not clear? Gojo was watching his lips as he spoke. "I want you."
Gojo kissed his wrist gently before sinking into him. Silver-white hair feathered his face as their lips met, deeper this time. Geto had to sacrifice some stability to wrap his arms around him. He couldn't have him pulling away again. But Gojo's strong arm supported them both as they leaned back over the desk.
"I want you too," Gojo said.
Geto expected him to be wild and rough, like how he is just about any other time. But he was deliberate and tantalizingly slow. With steady hands, Gojo worked through the many buttons of his shirt and jeans. His heart beat a little faster the more progress he made. Even more so when he grouped his chest, pinching his nipple lightly. The tension was growing almost unbearable, but it melted away instantly once Gojo's skin was pressed against his own. Hot and needy, his mouth was just as considerate as his hands. Gojo planted a kiss in the crook of his neck before trailing a line with his tongue up to his ear.
"Anything else you wanna add?" Gojo said. Geto felt his hand slide past the fabric of pants, and a hushed groan left his lips as Gojo's fingers tightened on his cock. His desk top was cold on his back, and paperwork, books, and all sorts of reminders of work surrounded him. He looked up at Gojo and tried to get lost in the feeling of his hands guiding his leg up and onto his bare shoulder.
"That depends, what would you like?" Geto asked.
"Your full attention," said Gojo. His grip tightened on his thigh as he thrusted against him, hard. The heavy oak desk beneath them jerked over an inch back. Geto's daily ledger, coffee mug, inkwell, and quill all tumbled to the floor. They didn't stop until deep gouges were etched into the floorboards.
Geto surveyed his office in the lamplight. Luckily, his office was in much better shape post-Gojo compared to the saloon. He was reminded of the outlaw, likely patched up at the clinic by that point.
"I should probably book your latest catch before it gets too late," Geto said.
"I guess. Or you could stay, and we can handle it tomorrow." Gojo lounged back in Geto's desk chair. His white hair clung lightly to his face with sweat.
"And give him a chance to run? I think I'll handle it now." Geto buttoned back up his jeans.
"So that's it then. The first time we fuck and you're trying to get rid of me already." Gojo grabbed a cigar from Geto's desk drawer, tossing in the coin Geto gave him earlier before shutting it.
"There's still work to do. You can stay if you want, but it might be a little weird," Geto bantered. "Or maybe I can meet ya at the bar afterwards."
"Oh, I don't really drink." Gojo took a puff of the cigar, releasing the smoke in a slow, languid swirl.
"You didn't think to tell me earlier?"
"You didn't ask," Gojo quipped.
"I suppose you're right," Geto said.
SEXY COWBOYS?
Posted April 19, 1881
Ordinance #9: Requiring anyone carrying a Bowie knife, dirk, pistol, or rifle to deposit their weapons at a livery or saloon upon entering town.
The saloon's exterior sported fresh paint and a brand new sign. Shoko had used the money to replace just about everything, but you could still find the bullet holes in the floorboards if you looked hard enough. Geto leaned against the bar as Shoko poured him a glass.
"Should I make it a double, Sheriff?" she said.
The porch creaked, and Geto squinted to make out the oncomer. Silver white hair peaking out from a tan hat.
"Make it a triple," Geto replied.
"Well well!… I barely recognize the place." Gojo said upon entry, patting the new bar top.
"And I'd prefer to keep it that way," Shoko said. Maybe Shoko could smell trouble just as well as Geto could.
"I know you aren't here for a drink, so come out with it," Geto said.
"I just had an interesting run-in with a cowboy named Shiu Kong over at the O.K. Corral. He was selling some horses without proper papers. When I asked him about it, he said he didn't need 'em! Apparently, if I had an issue, I should 'sort it out with his gun'."
"And … you came here?" Geto was surprised. Ever since the ordinance, Gojo was in town more often than not, helping keep the peace. Sorting things out with guns was Gojo's specialty.
"He also said Toji was in town. I was tracking him for a while some years back, but he crossed the border, and I hadn't caught wind of him since."
"Toji Fushiguro? He's come through a time or two. I suspected his posse was rustling cattle from Mexico, but I hadn't had the time to investigate myself."
"Is that who they've been calling the Man of Many?" Shoko interjected. "Some cowboys were in last week, talking about working with him on a job."
"Beats me. But I can put it on his bounty." Geto said. Gojo's arm brushed his. Their closeness brought them comfort, and the whiskey made them bold.
"I do wonder how a man gets a name like that," Geto said.
"Many poor haircuts? Many Allergies? Nipples? Could be anything. I thought the bigger fish were supposed to have better names." Gojo said.
"Big fish? I wasn't thinking more than $40 for bringing him in."Geto said.
"$40? I swear you grow more stingy each month."
"If you don't want it, let someone else take it," Geto said with a chuckle.
"Boys." Shoko set down the glass she was polishing.
"Nah. I'll get this man of many, many ex-wives. Then afterwards I'll take you out somewhere nice. Here perhaps!" Gojo slapped the bartop, and a knife followed, pinning his sleeve against the wood with a sharp thuck. The sound itself made Geto sober. Their gazes turned from the knife to a clenched fist and up a muscular arm to see Toji Fushiguro, the Man of Many, looming over them. He was covered in flashes of metal and positively seething.
"I've got one wife," Toji said, "but many, many weapons to kill you with. So which will it be?" Toji pulled back his coat, revealing so many knives, guns, and other weapons that he could equip an army.
"I'm sure you're aware of the new ordinance. No weapons past the livery. Perhaps we consider these misunderstandings a wash." Geto said. His lips were moving, but the rest of him was frozen in shock. In contrast, Toji's commanding stature seemed ready to respond to the slightest movement.
"I've got something else in mind." Toji had a gun to both of their heads. "Mind pouring me a glass, mama." He lifted his gaze to Shoko, who complied with shaky hands. Toji kept a gun on Gojo and holstered the other to grab the drink. Normally, Geto didn't mind being underestimated. It gave him options. However, this time, even his lightning draw wouldn't be quick enough to save Gojo.
" I heard you were giving my partner some trouble today at the stables. I'm here to collect his gun." Toji downed half his drink.
"It's at the livery. You can collect it on your way out." Gojo said.
"What about that one?" Toji pointed his gun at the peacemaker at Gojo's hip.
"That one's mine."
"Gun for a gun then."
"Not happening."
Toji laughed. "Awfully bold for someone in your position." He prodded Gojo's forehead with his gun, "Don't make poor miss here have to clean your blood off this new bar top." Geto felt the tension tighten like a lariat, but still, he knew Gojo wouldn't be tied by it.
"Then I suppose I'll have to call your wife to clean yours," Gojo said. He caught a glimpse of Toji's lip pulling back in a sneer as his finger tightened on the trigger. With adrenaline-driven speed, Geto swung at Toji's arm, knocking his aim off target. The bullet whizzed by Gojo's head with a whip-like crack. Geto's vision was locked on Gojo, who took his chance to free his arm.
Shards of glass embedded in Geto's forehead as Toji struck him hard with his now-empty glass. The power of the swing sent him crashing off the stool onto the ground. Blood stung his eyes, and his head pounded. He could feel himself being tugged behind the bar.
"Sheriff, are you alright?" Shoko had a bar towel to his head to stop the bleeding. Stars were spinning as he tried to raise himself out of Shoko's lap. He was unable to distinguish the snap of a broken chair leg from the crack of a bone. But as long as there was still sound, the fight wasn't over.
"I'm fine. Get somewhere safe." Geto said as he pulled himself up from the bar. He barely got a glimpse of them as Toji rushed Gojo, throwing them both through the window and out onto the street. Wiping blood from his eyes, he hurried after them. When he made it outside, the dust hung heavy in the air.
Geto squared his shoulders to Toji and was drawing his revolver when a bullet splintered the doorway to his right. He could just make out Shiu in the shade of the porch across the street. Shit. Shiu ducked inside the general store and continued to fire from the window. There wasn't time to run. Geto held his ground and squinted down the barrel. Don't worry Gojo, this one's mine, he thought. He was still seeing stars, but Shiu saw right down Geto's barrel. Crack.
Gojo needed only a moment to pull the knife from his sleeve and grab his gun. He had practiced this shot a thousand times and was used to ignoring the chaos around him in a fight. But as the hammer fell, he caught sight of Geto, bloodied on the floor, and his aim wavered. The bullet meant for Toji's head instead put a hole through the brim of his hat. Was he shot? He thought. Panicked, Gojo barely ducked in time to avoid the chair hurling towards him. Shoko was at Geto's side in a heartbeat, and when he saw him try to swat her away, Gojo knew he'd be okay. The sight renewed his confidence, and he vowed his next shot wouldn't miss. But Toji was fast and powerful, and he rushed him before he could even raise his arm to fire. They crashed through the window, and the impact on the hard earth knocked the breath from his lungs and the gun from his hand. It skated across the dirt street. Toji now towered over him, long bowie knife in hand. Gojo drove his hips off the ground with explosive force, slamming the heel of his boot into the underside of Toji's jaw. He staggered backward in a daze before his legs faltered below him. Gojo scrambled for his gun, his own legs sliding on the hard earth as he pitched forward to collect it. He heard several bullets ring out around him, but it was unclear where the bullets were coming from and who was firing. His head snapped to Toji, who luckily was still regaining his balance some distance away. His chest heaved, and he used each dusty breath to settle himself.
Geto's voice rang from the porch of the Star, "Stop layin' around, this isn't over."
"I know." Gojo said.
"So handle it," said Geto, "I'm asking." Gojo nodded without taking his eyes off the muscle-bound brute in front of him. The desert sun beat down on him as he stood. Toji mirrored his stance, his dark cloak billowing behind him.
"You never answered me," said Toji, "Which weapon did you want to die by?"
"It doesn't matter. Your bullet will never reach me. The difference between you and I, you may have many, but I have infinite." Gojo said.
"Hah! Infinite? From where I stand, it looks like you only have one, and a pitiful one at that," Toji scoffed.
"This job will only need one more bullet, so why would I need more than one gun."
The air stilled, and they moved as one.
From within the folds of Toji's long black coat emerged the sleek barrels of his guns. In his right hand, the deep blued steel of his revolver glinted in the light. In his left, the wide 12-gauge barrels of his coach gun cut through the air. He pulled his shoulders back and raised both arms to level with terrifying ferocity. With a heavy step forward and teeth bared in a snarl, he unleashed a volley of hot lead.
Gojo's whole body bent at the knees, leaning back at an uncanny angle. As the leather brim of his hat swept the ground, his left hand swung to his right hip. It met the hammer of his trusty Colt drawn just far enough to trace a line to his opponent's heart. Palm struck the knurled metal. The hammer fanned and fell. As Toji's wild barrage tore through the air above him, Gojo kept his word with one precise round.
Gojo's infinity wasn't a weapon but a promise. As Toji fell to his knees, he thought about the ways things could have gone differently. He used to find comfort in those infinite possibilities. Granting him courage and perhaps a little luck in battle. But it felt different now. He looked at Geto, who simply tipped his hat and walked into the bar. There were some possibilities worth fighting for, and he wouldn't settle for anything less.
Some Time Later
"Still gonna take me out?" Geto said.
"You haven't even paid me," Gojo said.
"Well, you owed the bar. You actually owed quite a bit more, but I cut a deal with Shoko. You're welcome."
"Guess our official date will have to wait then." Gojo swirled his glass. A rare drink to celebrate him becoming an official City Marshal.
"How about I take you out instead?"
"Are you asking?"
"Absolutely."
