Work Header

Cowboy's Courage

Work Text:

The moment he walked through the doors of the Sacramento Health Care Center Billy knew he was fucked. Not literally – not yet, at least – but he was so nervous that all he wanted to do was turn around and run home to hide in his bed. No, beneath the bed. Then he remembered the gaping hole the bus ticket had ripped into his savings and decided that no, he was here now and he'd sit it out. Not that there would be much sitting involved.

Stepping further into the freezing air conditioned coolness of the foyer, Billy took a careful look around. It was a spacey room with big windows – lots of natural California sunglare – and an overabundance of non-desert-friendly plants. To his left sat a handful of yellow armchairs and a sofa in the same color, grouped around a low glass table full of shiny brochures and leaflets. To his right was the wall – lemon, with some kind of brocade Fleur-de-Lis print – with a water cooler nudged in between a potted azalea and a small palm tree that looked fake as shit. At the back wall he could see two automatic glass doors and a massive wooden counter with a tiny receptionist behind it. Who was looking straight at him.

Which probably wasn't that much of a surprise since he was the only person in the room and had just come in through the front door. 'Okay, here goes nothing,' Billy thought to himself, desperate to wipe his suddenly sweaty palms somewhere else than his favorite pair of camouflage shorts. He went for his black t-shirt instead, fumbling with the shark tooth necklace his father had given him almost two years ago for his fifteenth birthday.

Cautiously, Billy approached the counter. The small receptionist stood up expectantly and he saw that she wasn't that small at all. She was probably taller than him. And she smiled. “Hey there. Welcome to the Sacramento Health Care Center. May I help you?”

'Not personally, no.' The thought came unbidden, but Billy didn't have the guts to say it out loud – not even if his throat weren't so dry. He remembered working out what he wanted to say on the bus ride earlier, to pass the two hours it took to get here from Chico, but it was gone now. He could do nothing but stare at her helplessly.

The receptionist took pity on him. “Are you here for your rut?”

Billy nodded, heart pounding painfully in his throat. Yes, he was here to get fucked in the ass by a total stranger. Trying to look at anything but her face, he read her name tag. 'Emma Cullen.' Then he noticed that it probably seemed like he was staring at her breasts and he glanced up again.

She raised an eyebrow. “You look a bit young to be here on your own.”

“I'm,” Billy began and had to clear his throat. “I'm sixteen. I'm legally allowed to decide what happens to my own body.” To prove it, he pulled out his ID. It slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the counter, the sound shockingly loud in the quietness of the room. The same instant, one of the glass doors swished open and two guys strutted out, waving a lazy greeting at Emma as they passed. They were both tall and broad-shouldered and so much older than Billy.

“Did you bring your doctor's report?”

Emma's question startled him. “Y-yes.” He almost ripped the folded piece of paper as he wrestled it from his pocket to hand it over. It was frayed at the edges, worn soft from being read and re-folded over and over, and it was barely half a week old. By now, Billy had the contents memorized: his hormone levels, the estimated start of the “rut”, the length and intensity and possible end, even though those numbers were vague at best since it was his first time. A nurse had scribbled “stay hydrated” into the bottom left corner together with a smiley face, and Billy understood neither because this was California and he dreaded the stunt his body was about to pull tomorrow.

Humming, Emma keyed the data into a form on her computer, then handed back the paper and his ID. Somewhere behind her, a printer whirred to life. She fetched the new form and a ball pen. “Our own doctors will need to take a look at you. Nothing major, just a standard procedure. I'd like to remind you that contraceptives are mandatory and that by signing you'll be agreeing to them.”

“Okay,” Billy mumbled. And then: “I'm infertile.” Courtesy to the same genetic defect that had his body rejecting any kind of heat suppressants.

Emma's gaze softened. “Better safe than sorry. Since you're underage, the state or your health insurance will cover it.”

Summoning all his courage, Billy signed the form. 'No going back now.'




The check-up really was quick: he was told to strip and lay down, then the doctor came in, showing more interest in the written report than Billy's actual body. A nurse shoved a thermometer up his ass to take his “core temperature” which, they explained, would be elevated once the “rut” started. It was already slightly higher than usual, they informed him cheerfully, so it couldn't be long now. Then they administered the contraceptives and he was free to go.

Emma picked him up once he was dressed again and showed him his room. It was on the second floor, which looked a lot less like a hospital and more like a retirement home, or some kind of rehab facility. They stopped at door number two-fourteen, Emma opened it and Billy followed her inside.

The first thing he noticed was the smell of disinfectant, not as overpowering as downstairs but still biting, then the absolutely boring, gray-ish carpet that had probably been out of style before it was even invented. Thankfully no one had attempted to force some color onto the walls as well, they were white, as were the sheets on the massive queen-size bed to his left. There was a nightstand with a corded telephone beside it.

“Bathroom's over here. We provide toiletries and towels,” Emma said, pointing to a smaller door to her right. Then she walked over to the dresser beside the window on the far wall and pulled a thin folder out of the top drawer. “The doc said your rut will start tomorrow, so one of the boys will be over at around half past seven. If you need assistance earlier than that, press the red button on the phone.”

Emma came back and handed him the folder and a white key card. “There's a map of the premises in there. You're free to leave this room whenever you like. We have a cafe downstairs if you get hungry. Just hand them your key card, they'll know what to do. Just... be back here when it starts, okay?”

Billy swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

She smiled at him and slipped out, the door closing quietly behind her. Silence settled over him and suddenly Billy felt incredibly lost in the impersonality of the room. Slowly, he walked the bed and gingerly sat down on the edge. The mattress dipped slightly beneath him. He patted the sheets, cool under his hand, and pulled out his smartphone.

The display was black. No calls, no messages. So his parents hadn't realized that their son had disappeared just yet. They probably thought he was just visiting a friend after school or something. Of course they wouldn't exactly expect him to run off the day before his first “time,” especially not when they had gone through the trouble of buying him... uhm. Toys.

Billy laid back on the bed, shivering, not quite sure whether it was because of the coolness of the cotton or the thought of said “toys.” He hadn't even known such things existed until his mother had come home with them the day after the doctor's appointment. Billy's cheeks had been burning with embarrassment when she tried to explain their use to him, and he'd never been more envious of the guys who could just take a pill and not be bothered by the whims of their own bodies until they chose to.

Most men decided to go through at least one rut, often in their early twenties. Very few chose pregnancy, now that there were means to avoid it. The “period of male fertility” ended some time between the thirty-second and thirty-fifth birthday. No one did “the rut” in their teens. And if Billy's classmates in school found out... well, there was a very good reason he had come to Sacramento instead of doing it at the Chico Health Care Center. Maybe he should have gone to San Francisco, to avoid any chance of accidentally meeting anyone.

With toys he wouldn't have that risk, but there was something deeply unsettling about the thought of his parents checking in on him and shouting completely unhelpful tips from behind the door while he was panting around an artificial knot up his butt. Also, the rumors about malfunctioning knots that didn't go down again, or the ones that got stuck and had to be cut out in the hospital, were shockingly persistent. No. He needed to do this his way.

There was a twinge in Billy's lower belly and he shuddered. He got up again and shuffled to the dresser, inspecting the other drawers, just to distract himself from thinking. The second one contained a blanket with a Mojave desert print. He threw it on the bed. The last drawer was empty except for a single, worn book, the cover also showing a nondescript desert and a church tower below a strip of bloody red letters. 'The Battle of Rose Creek.'

He'd never been a fan of Westerns, preferring the great pacific ocean to scorched earth, but the blurb promised an, if not interesting, at least entertaining read. Besides, his phone told him it was just past five pm, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stomach any food at all tonight and he would have to pass the time until tomorrow morning someway.

Kicking off his shoes Billy leaned back against the headboard of the bed, pulled the blanket over his knees and opened the first page.

'Courage is: being scared to death but saddling up anyway.'




Billy startled awake in the middle of the night, blinking owlishly into the darkness above his face. He felt hot, the pillow was burning beneath his neck, and he was sweating, even though he had stripped down to his boxers. Sometime during the night he'd kicked he blanket off the bed. Sitting up groggily, he tried to figure out what woke him.

Maybe it was the moonlight falling in through the window. He'd forgotten to close the curtains when he finally shut the book, halfway through the story of that unlikely fellowship of guys with weird names trying to save a town that wasn't even worth the land it was built on. But back at home Billy sometimes left the whole window open for the night, relishing the coolness drifting in, so it couldn't have been that.

He turned on the bed to grab his phone. There were four new messages, three from his mother and one from his father, together with six missed calls. Billy briefly considered calling back, but it was half past one and he didn't feel like a late night shouting match. And he wouldn't put it past his father to hop into the car and come here to get him, and then he would have to face the toys and the humiliation on top of having to explain himself.

He dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and was just about to lie down again when something hot fluttered in his belly. The feeling grew, like a wave, until it became painful, needy, taking over his whole body and making him gasp for air. Breathing didn't provide any relief; he couldn't do anything but wait it out, like a stomach ache – only that this was emptiness instead of fullness. It centered somewhere behind his balls, flaring again, then ebbed until it disappeared, leaving Billy trembling and panting in the sheets.

This was “the rut”. He knew it, he'd read about it, he'd been told in school about this, but he'd never thought it would be this intense. And it hadn't even started, not really, he had six more hours of this before he could call anyone. Billy's gaze darted to the red button on the phone. Maybe he could do it now. Tell them he was ready, how would they be able to tell, anyway? And if they could, they wouldn't just watch him writhe on the bed, right?

His heartbeat slowed down and Billy closed his eyes. It didn't feel so bad now. He could wait this out, no need to ring some unsuspecting guy out of bed.

Heat trickled the base of his spine and tried to breathe calmly, hoping it might help. The mere thought of touching himself made his skin crawl. He was too sensitive to even try.




Billy almost didn't register the room getting brighter when morning dawned, he was curled up in a fetal position on the bed, gritting his teeth and waiting for the flames within him to die down again. It seemed to take longer that before, but time had become something distant during the endless ebb and flow of pain and arousal and the clench of his body around absolutely nothing. Now it wasn't flowing any more, it was staying, the sensation was clearer: hollowness.

The door clicked and he startled, head coming up with a disoriented “huh?”

“Morning, I'm – oh, shit!”

Billy blinked, now confused, trying to make out something in the half-darkness of the room and failing miserably because lust sliced through him like a knife's edge, he shouldn't have moved like that. His cock, flagging until now, filled immediately, and Billy suddenly remembered that he'd lost the blanket and couldn't hide it. He felt himself blush.

“Damn, why didn't you call if your rut started early, that's what the phone is for,” a male voice growled, the door fell shut a little louder than necessary, and suddenly there was a hand on Billy's upper arm. It was blissfully cool, but he flinched anyway.

The man froze. He was blonde, a lot older than Billy, wore a Cowboy hat – and in the morning light his wide eyes shone unearthly blue. “Gosh, you're just a kid!”

Billy swallowed dryly. Sweat ran down his neck. “Who... are you?”

“Goodnight Robicheaux,” the man said slowly. “I'm here to assist you.” Carefully he crouched down beside the bed, at eye-level with Billy, reaching out a hand and stopping just before it touched Billy's forehead. “May I?”

He didn't really wait for an answer and placed his palm on Billy's hot skin, clicking his tongue. “You're burning up. Stay right here,” he ordered, getting up and disappearing into the bathroom. Billy heard a rushing sound, probably the faucet, and then 'Goodnight' came back with a glass of water. He pressed it into Billy's hands, who shivered at the coldness but drank anyway. It was balm for his parched throat.

Once he was done he placed the glass on the nightstand, right beside the book. “'Goodnight'? Like the guy from 'The Battle of Rose Creek'?”

Goodnight, who had taken off his hat, shoes and shirt, stopped pushing down his slacks to chuckle. “What can I say? It's my papa's favorite book.” He stepped out of the slacks and sat down on the edge of the bed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, shrugging. “Probably because my maman wrote it. Still thirsty?”


“Well, good,” Goodnight said, placed a hand on Billy's hip and leaned in. Billy's hands flew up to his shoulders and he pushed him back reflexively, shielding himself against the sudden closeness and feeling stupid for it immediately because what they were going to required a lot of touching. He lowered his hands, terrified. “S-sorry.”

“Not a problem, cher. Have you had sex before?”

“Uhh,” Billy blushed even harder, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“I'll take that as a 'no',” Goodnight said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. It was getting easier to see now as more and more light streamed in. “Have you ever kissed anyone before? Girl? Guy?”

At this rate, there wouldn't be any blood left for his cock, Billy thought to himself as he shook his head again, because this was a different kind of shame. A virgin at sixteen, that was understandable. Puberty was awkward and no one wanted to dive headfirst into something like that. But unkissed? That was a scandal, a disgrace.

Billy was prepared for incredulous laughter, or at least a smirk, not for the gentle hand that cupped his jaw. Goodnight inched closer, their thighs brushing. “Hey, it's alright. We'll take it slow. Would you like to kiss me?”

Billy thought about that while Goodnight watched him, attentive and unmoving, and Billy found that yes, he wanted to. He'd been curious about this – who wasn't? – and now that the chance presented itself he really wanted to try it. But how? Lips, tongues, teeth? He'd never done it before, how would he know if he was doing it right?

Goodnight must have read the question in his face because he smiled, leaning in slowly. There was a puff of hot air as he whispered “relax,” against Billy's lips, then brushed their mouths together. Billy inhaled sharply and Goodnight drew back. “There you go. Your First Kiss. Feel different?”

Billy blinked at him. “What?”

“I'll tell you a secret,” Goodnight said, stroking a hand down Billy's arm, which admittedly felt pretty nice. “Second time's always better.” He cocked his head invitingly and Billy stared at Goodnight's slightly parted lips, already wanting to feel them again. Cautiously, he leaned in. It lasted longer this time, warm and soft, and Billy marveled at how good it was. No wonder his friends never shut up about it.

Suddenly, something hot and wet traced Billy's lower lip and he made a noise somewhere deep in his throat. Goodnight chuckled, easing away. “Now, let me tell you about tongues.”

“I prefer a demonstration,” Billy growled, took Goodnight's face in his hands and kissed him open-mouthed, with a boldness he never knew he possessed. It was even better than before: the slick slide of their tongues, rubbing against each other, and the taste...

Billy let Goodnight crawl over him, thoroughly occupied by what their mouths were doing, and gasped when he felt their bodies pressing together from his chest to his toes. Goodnight was taller than him but it hardly seemed to matter, he'd pushed one thigh in between Billy's and nudged his crotch, exciting him.

Billy stiffened, insecurity flooding in again, followed by all the anxiety and nervousness of yesterday afternoon. He broke the kiss, breathing hard, suppressing the need to rub his cock on Goodnight's leg.

Fingers carded into Billy's hair and Goodnight moved down to lick at his neck. Billy mewled, arching up to meet him before realizing what he was doing and that those humiliating sounds were coming from him. He wanted to back off, put some distance between them, but his body wasn't listening to him any more, it was coming alive beneath Goodnight's touch, thrumming with heat and energy. Only when Goodnight hooked a finger into the waistband of Billy's boxers and started to pull down did the panic take over enough to make him squirm.

“Shhh,” Goodnight murmured, pressing his lips to Billy's collarbone. “It's alright.”

Oh, how Billy wanted to believe that. But he couldn't, not when this was all so unfamiliar, so new and fast and... frightening. “I'm... scared,” he whispered, feeling ridiculously exposed admitting it.

“You're allowed to,” Goodnight reassured him, thumb rubbing lazy circles into the groove of Billy's hipbone. “I was terrified, too. Everyone is.”

“But 'courage is: being scared to death but saddling up anyway'?” Billy asked wryly, realizing something: “That advice is incredibly unhelpful to anyone who's scared.” He knew he sounded petulant, but his heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his throat and he just wanted it to stop.

Goodnight looked at him, something incredibly gentle on his face. He was handsome, Billy thought suddenly, stomach fluttering nervously.

“The secret to good sex is communication. And honesty,” Goodnight added softly. “Tell me what scares you.”

“I... I don't know,” Billy replied, averting his gaze. “Everything.”

“Kissing, too?”

“... no.”

“Well,” Goodnight smiled and leaned in to nuzzle Billy's neck. “How about this?” His breath ghosted along Billy's jaw, warm and moist, and Goodnight closed his lips around Billy's earlobe, tugging slightly. Billy moaned and squirmed, new sparks of arousal dancing down his spine and pooling between his legs.


It was the first time Goodnight had said his name, and it did funny things to Billy's stomach. He blinked, remembering the question. “No.”

“May I pull off your shorts?”

Then he'd be naked. No way to hide his erection any more. Not that he could now, but being naked in front of a stranger, that was something else. Billy swallowed. “What about yours?”

Goodnight grinned at him and took Billy's hand, that had been gripping Goodnight's neck rather uselessly until now, and placed it on his side. Then he pushed down and Billy could feel the curve of a hip beneath his palm, until his fingers touched the waistband of Goodnight's boxers. “Mind giving me a hand?”

Billy licked his lips and Goodnight slid their hands further down, hooking Billy's thumb into the fabric and pulled it over his ass. The skin was so soft that Billy couldn't help but stare at the almost perfect curve, paler than the rest of him but still... nice. Goodnight let go of Billy's hand and pushed his undergarments off completely, throwing them off the bed.

His now exposed cock bounced with the movement, blood red and heavy, the thick root surrounded by short, pale pubic hair. It was larger than Billy's and a lot larger than Billy had expected, and the knot wouldn't even form fully until Goodnight was inside him. He could see where it would be, the swell was more pronounced at the base, all of that monster would need to be in him for it to tie them.

Billy didn't know whether to be indifferent or scared. His mind wanted to be scared, but Goodnight had been so patient until now, going at Billy's pace, and his calmness made Billy feel... safe. He exhaled, the panic abated, and he noticed that Goodnight was watching him carefully. Needing to show him that he was fine, Billy slid his hand over Goodnight's hip towards his genitals, hesitating at the last moment.

“You can touch it,” Goodnight encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, Billy decided the time for modesty was long past and closed his hand around Goodnight's cock. It was warm, even compared to Billy's elevated body temperature, and the firm flesh twitched in his grasp. He stroked up and down experimentally, pleased at the way Goodnight's breath hitched. Billy tilted his head up for another kiss just because he felt like it and was met easily.

“You're starting to have fun,” Goodnight noted when Billy let go of him again, and he couldn't really deny it. Didn't want to, either.

“Do you,” Billy began, pressing his nose to Goodnight's neck and breathing in, “Do you want to take off my shorts?”

“Do you want me to?” Goodnight asked, voice a low, seductive rumble.


Billy thought he could hear a chuckle, then Goodnight's fingers slipped inside his boxers and pulled them off quickly and efficiently, revealing Billy's hard cock. It was throbbing and leaking, but the arousal seemed dulled, not focused in his penis as it was when he jerked himself off. Instead, the heat coiled behind his balls, around the small, soft hole between his butt cheeks.

Now that they were both naked, Billy suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands any more. He looked up at Goodnight. “What now?”

“Now we get to the floor show,” Goodnight said and let go of Billy briefly to reach for his slacks, pulling out a light blue tube of k-jelly and handing it over.

Billy turned it in his hands. “Water based?”

“Easier to clean off after, and since we won't be using condoms...,” Goodnight shrugged. “You feelin' ready for this?”

“Not really,” Billy replied honestly, but the burning inside him had only gotten stronger and he knew that he didn't really have a choice any more. He licked his lips and laid back down. “Let's do it.”

“That's the spirit,” Goodnight laughed, crawled over Billy's leg and settled in between them, spreading Billy's thighs with his broad, rough hands. Billy shivered. He'd never felt this vulnerable in his life. But it wasn't bad, not exactly.

Goodnight leaned down and pressed a kiss to Billy's belly. “The most important thing is for you to relax,” he said, trailing a finger down Billy's cock and behind his balls, probing at the clenched pucker. The touch alone was enough to make Billy groan.

“Thank you, middle school health teacher.”

“They teach you about butt sex in middle school now?” Goodnight asked, incredulous, and uncapped the lube, squirting a thick glob onto his fingers and rubbing them to warm it up. Billy watched him, clinging to the emptiness inside him to keep the nervousness at bay.

“It was implied.”

Goodnight nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer, and then spread Billy's cheeks with his dry hand. “Breathe in for me.”

Billy did and he could feel something slightly cool and wet touch his asshole, massaging the rim. He tensed. “Goodnight...”

“Breathe out slowly,” Goodnight said, waiting until Billy did as told and then pushed one lubed up digit inside him in one smooth stroke. Billy gasped at the sudden pressure, there was a faint stab of pain but it faded immediately, replaced by lust so hot and burning he could do nothing but press down to meet it, muscles clenching around Goodnight's finger, moaning loudly.

“Shhh,” Goodnight soothed, massaging Billy's rim, and Billy could feel himself opening for Goodnight's fingers, needing to feel them inside. Thankfully he didn't have to wait long, the rut making him loose enough for this to go quickly, and soon there was a third. They all curled within him, rubbing his swollen prostate, the round protrusion almost twice it's usual size now – and twice as sensitive. Billy writhed on the bed, seeing stars, breath coming in harsh little gasps as he rocked his hips. “Oh God...”

Goodnight caught Billy's lip with his teeth, sliding his tongue in and then out again, along with his fingers. “I've got you, darlin'.”

Billy shuddered, nails scraping at Goodnight's back and then the fingers were gone and he whined, high and needy. Rough hands turned him onto his belly. Billy hummed, confused at first, until he felt Goodnight's cock nudging between his cheeks and he mewled, face heating up, pushing back against them eagerly.

The blunt head poked at his hole, bigger than three fingers, so big and hot and Billy wanted it, needed it, he shoved onto it despite Goodnight trying to hold him still. His anus stretched willingly around the intrusion and then he was full, pleasure slicing through him at the feeling of taking it so deeply.

Goodnight groaned into his ear, starting to thrust and Billy keened, scrabbling at the mattress for something to hold onto as they shifted together, losing himself in the rocking of their bodies. He could feel the thick knot pushing at his rim; it felt massive and somewhere in Billy's head a tiny voice begged for mercy, but he couldn't care less.

“Give it to me, Goodnight, please, just fuck me,” Billy pleaded, thighs tensing in his efforts to push his ass up, to get what he craved.

“Almost there,” Goodnight replied, through the haze in Billy's brain, and he gripped Billy's hips and hauled him onto his cock, holding him there, forcing him to take it. Billy clamped down like a vice around Goodnight, stifling a scream; his orgasm was so close he could taste it. The pleasure flared up even brighter as the knot caught, tying them together.

Billy whined, drooling onto the sheets, he was so, so close. But there was something holding him back, a heaviness inside him, the knot was too big. Billy'd read about this. The swell of it was pressing down on his PC muscle and preventing him from reaching completion, like it would if someone pushed down on his perineum at the right moment. “Goodnight,” he wailed, desperate for release that was decidedly out of reach, “I can't--!”

Goodnight kissed his neck, stroking his hands down Billy's sides. “You're doing so fine, sugar. Taking it so good.”

Billy shivered as he adjusted to the fullness inside him. It was too much, it felt like someone had pushed a melon up his ass, and his cock was so hard it hurt. Billy tried to shift a little and found that he couldn't, his limbs wouldn't obey; his own body rendering him helpless to facilitate fertilization. “Oh God...” Tears pricked in his eyes. “Shit, owww.”

“Breathe,” Goodnight reminded him, “You can come once the knot goes down a bit, shhh.”

“How –” Billy tried to look over his shoulder but his movements were sluggish at best, his head was spinning, and Christ, he sounded more hopped-up than his school's resident drug addict, “How long does this last?”

He could feel Goodnight shrug behind him, but only because they were still pressed so close together. The knot throbbed, sending hot waves of pleasure through Billy and he gasped, thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably as he felt another gush of warm wetness flooding his insides. He whimpered into the mattress; he hadn't realized it was possible to feel even fuller.

“Up to two hours,” Goodnight rumbled into Billy's shoulder. “You'll get used to it.”

He jerked his hips lazily and Billy instinctively clenched, milking Goodnight as he shot another load. The sweet scent of sex and pheromones was heavy around them.

“H-hard to believe.” Billy wriggled his ass when the stillness became too much, need burning through him, the stretched rim of his hole pulsed with pain. He let out a distressed noise upon realizing again that he couldn't get away. He was starting to feel bloated and swollen from the huge amount of seed inside him. “Am I – ahh – supposed to feel like a water balloon about to burst?”

Goodnight placed his hand on Billy's belly and started to rub in soothing circles. “That's natural. Relax.”

The touch did help, it was distracting enough to be soothing, and Billy closed his eyes. Heat spiraled through his lower body, at the base of his cock, and he concentrated on it, feeling it rise within him. He arched his back and rocked his hips to chase his pleasure, little moans spilling from his lips; he didn't notice the sudden loud bang of a door against a wall. “Oh God, just fuck me harder, please, Goodnight –”

“What the fuck are you doing to my son?!”

“D-dad?” Billy's eyes flew open and he shot up instinctively, pushing Goodnight's hand away and right onto his erect cock. Something tore inside him and another wave of pleasure lit his nerve endings aflame. “AAHH!”

“Billy! You –”

His father was staring at him, mouth open, as if he didn't even recognize his son. Not really surprising considering how debauched he must look, Billy thought hazily, cheeks burning with shame.

“I'm real sorry, Sir, but there's a rut going on here,” another voice said and a man stepped through the door, tall and lanky, obviously Mexican. The guy from yesterday. He gripped Mr. Rocks arm.

Mr. Rocks whipped around. “I'm not leaving without my son!”

“Well, ya can't rip them apart without seriously damaging your son,” said a different guy. “Which you might probably already have. So it's best for everyone if you just wait out here.”

The two guys took Mr. Rocks between them and pulled him out despite his protests.

Billy buried his face in the sheets. “Please, God, let me die.”

Goodnight, who hadn't said anything and merely curled an arm around Billy to keep them knotted securely, hummed thoughtfully. “Don't worry about Faraday and Vasquez. They're assistants here. Why was your father angry?”

“I...” Billy swallowed, not daring to look up yet. “I kind of – oohh Christ – ran a-away and didn't tell anyone about this.”

“... oh.”

“And I didn't answer my phone when they tried to call,” he confessed. “I... just didn't want them to know. They'd never have let me come h-here if they knew.”

“I can see how that might not sit well with your dad,” Goodnight said, and while there might have been a slight reprimand in his tone he kissed Billy again nonetheless, soothing him through his next not-quite-orgasm.

After, Goodnight turned them onto their sides, spooning Billy, which made breathing marginally easier. He brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Doesn't warrant storming in here, though, unless there's another reason.”

Billy blinked blearily up at the ceiling. “Huh?”

“Were they... planning to marry you off against your wishes or something?”

“Oh... no. I don't think so. They're nice people,” Billy said slowly, trying to touch his cock but it was too raw. “But sometimes... they just don't like me making my own decisions. But I don't regret it.” He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. Instead, he tilted his head and was glad when Goodnight met him easily, lips sliding together perfectly. It was starting to feel nice, lying like this and being so intimately connected. Being held and comforted.

“It gets better after high school,” Goodnight mumbled against Billy's lips and rocked into him once more.

Okay, maybe not all nice, Billy conceded as he writhed and panted. The bloating only got worse. As did the need to fucking come already.

They spend the rest of their time just kissing and sliding against each other when it became necessary; it was frustrating how the blissful heat stayed just out of Billy's reach, he was thrashing desperately by the time Goodnight announced “almost,” thrusting his hips, and finally the knot eased and popped out.

Billy cried out and came so hard his vision went white; he didn't notice himself creaming the sheets, only the tingling pleasure that made his limbs blissfully heavy before everything went black.




Billy awoke shortly later, light-headed, and immediately wished he hadn't. He was sore and tired and cum was leaking out of him.

Goodnight turned him onto his belly. “Stay like this, or you'll drip all over everything.”

“Where are you going?” Billy asked after him, dizzily watching Goodnight disappear into the adjacent bathroom. There was the sound of water and then he came back.

“C'mon, cher, the tub is waiting for you. It'll ease the soreness.”

Goodnight helped Billy get up and into the bathroom, reassuring him on the way that spunk running down his thighs in thick, glistering rivulets was perfectly natural. Billy lowered himself into the tub cautiously, mindful not to touch anything tender, and fell asleep almost instantly, feeling completely safe with Goodnight watching over him.




Two hours later, Billy padded out of the bathroom again, freshly showered and practically glowing with energy. Goodnight awaited him sitting on the bed, slacks and that ridiculous Cowboy hat on but bare chested, smiling brightly. “There you are. Done driving up Sacramento's water bill?”

“I didn't take that long!” Billy protested, amazed at how easy their interaction felt now, and reached out to grab his boxers when Goodnight stopped him.

“Ah, not so fast. Come here,” he patted the bed beside him and Billy approached gingerly.

Goodnight smirked. “Bend over for me, cher.”


“I need to check for torn tissue,” he explained. “It can happen and you won't necessarily notice right away.”

Cheeks reddening, Billy turned around and did just as told, pushing his naked ass up at Goodnight, who took the cheeks in his hands and spread them carefully, examining his probably puffy anus. Even though he'd just been knotted, Billy couldn't help the twitch his cock gave. But the rut was over, successfully completed with the knotting, and he probably wouldn't be able to sit for days, let alone more. He smiled to himself, thinking that his classmates were right – sex was awesome.

“Okay,” Goodnight muttered. “Now your core tem–”

Billy jumped. “NO!”

Goodnight laughed at him. “Just kidding. Everything's fine. You're free to go.”

Eying him warily in case Goodnight changed his mind and conjured up a thermometer, Billy dressed, and only relaxed when his boxers and camouflage shorts were securely on again. He was just about to reach for the door handle when something occurred to him. “Can I...,” he stopped and turned to look at Goodnight, drinking him in – his blue eyes and handsome face, his elegant form poised on the edge of the bed – “Can I come back here next time?”

Goodnight cocked his head. “You sure can. But it won't be me assisting you again.”

Something fluttered in Billy's stomach. Had he... not lived up to expectation? “Why?”

“To avoid attachment,” Goodnight said, stood up and sauntered over, cupping a hand around Billy's jaw and kissing him chastely – a goodbye. “My advice? Find someone you really, really care about for next time. Someone you can't get enough of.”

Billy leaned his forehead against Goodnight's, suddenly feeling sad at the thought of maybe never seeing him again. “My dad's never going to let me out of the house ever again,” he joked.

Goodnight grinned. “Well, that I can't help you with. But remember: Courage is --”

Being scared to death but saddling up anyway. Yeah. I know.”

“Cowboy's wisdom.”

“I'm not a Cowboy,” Billy pointed out, and Goodnight chuckled.

“Your day may come. You could start with the hat.” He took his own hat and placed it on Billy's head. “There you go.”

Billy sighed, then laughed, stealing one last kiss and tipping the damn hat, like a real Cowboy, before walking off to face his father and his life again.

He knew where he'd do his next internship.