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Micah had been a bad boy, and he knew it. A simple stagecoach robbery had turned into a shootout, which really had not been necessary, but his fingers had been quick to jump to his gun. Worse still, the take was disappointing. Not at all worth the attention brought onto them by it. He could push some of the blame on big, blustering Bill, but he felt like Dutch was going to know it had been him who fucked up. Naturally, when he came back to camp, Micah was to be found skulking at the edges, weary to go near the centre of camp, weary to get too close to Dutch’s proximity. It worked for a couple hours, no longer.
“Micah. A word.” Dutch called out, cigar in hand and looking stern. Micah couldn’t help but feel nervous as he approached the older man. He was clearly in for a scolding, maybe worse if Arthur has been in his ear again. God, that soft-hearted idiot. But he came to Dutch like a dog who knew he’d been bad; tail tucked between his legs as he approached. He didn’t question it as Dutch stepped aside to let him into the tent, didn’t complain when he closed and fastened the tent flap.
He made an imposing figure despite their relatively similar height, looking down at Micah, lips wrapped around his cigar.
“I’ve heard about what happened.”
“Boss, I-“
“Shut your mouth. I don’t want to hear your pitiful excuses.” He sucked on his cigar, the smell of sweet smoke filling the tent, making Micah a little light-headed. He hung his head in shame, not only because of the scolding, but because it had made him so hard he could barely breathe. Dutch tended to have that effect on him, and his cheeks burned bright red as he prayed he wouldn’t notice.
“You put all of us on the line, today. You need to learn some patience, boy, and quick. Need to use that head of yours to think first, then shoot.” He looked at Micah with a mix of disgust and pride. “I know you’re a killer, son, but you need to learn to hold yourself back. Not everything can be solved with a gun, you know. Sometimes…other approaches are better.” He was scheming; Micah knew it. He had called him in for a reason, and if he had any idea this wouldn’t be pleasant at all. He was bracing himself for Dutch to shout at him, to smack him, maybe even to tell him to leave until he had gotten himself under control. What he didn’t expect was a low growl of “Strip.”
Micah’s brain was speeding at a hundred miles per hour. How humiliating. How inexplicably exciting. Dutch was going to see that being scolded had him sporting an erection. Dutch was going to know just what he did to him, and Micah wanted to dig himself a hole into the earth and vanish into it. Yet he obeyed. With trembling fingers, he undid the buttons on his red shirt, shrugging off his suspenders before pulling it over his head, dropping it carelessly to the side. He stepped out of his boots next. He could feel the heat of Dutch’s glare on him, his eyes trained on Micah’s fingers as he unbuttoned his trousers and shrugged them off. He hadn’t worn underwear. Of course, on the fucking day he was stripping in front of Dutch he hadn’t worn goddamn underwear. Never really did, but he did not like the way it made him feel. He could’ve sworn he heard Dutch chuckle as his hard cock was exposed, erection unwavering despite the hot burn of humiliation.
“Like this, do you?” He said as Micah stepped out of his trousers and set them aside, his red, flushed cock bobbing comically. Micah didn’t respond, just stared at the floor with his head bowed, face almost as red as his cock.
“How long have you been hard for?” He could hear the laugh in his voice. “Bet your little cock’s been hard as a rock ever since I called you in here.” Micah kept staring at the floor, eyes trained on a little ant as it scuttled away from him. “Answer me, son.”
His face was burning as he quickly nodded his head, wanting to get it over with. “Since you called me over, boss.”
“I knew it…doesn’t take much more then my voice to get you off, I bet.” Micah’s mind flashed with a memory of him frantically tugging his cock after Dutch gave one of his particularly well-done speeches, and Micah had been so hard the entire time he barely knew what had been said. Not that it mattered, he would follow Dutch no matter what he said. But Dutch knew that.
He was still pausing for an answer. “Yes, boss.” He was furious with himself that he was still throbbing, maybe even more so, despite the eyes raking over him appraisingly. Micah didn’t think of himself as particularly attractive, and being watched like that made him feel both appreciated and judged, an uncomfortable feeling between preening from the attention and wanting to shrink back in shame.
What he didn’t expect was for Dutch to sigh and sit down on the bed, beckoning Micah to come over. He was starting to get nervous, unable to read what Dutch was planning.
“On your knees.” He complied without another thought, sinking to his knees before the fully dressed man, who looked as put-together as ever. He watched with rapt attention as Dutch unbuttoned his pinstripe trousers, pulling out his own, still mostly soft cock.
“Suck.” He commanded, almost sounding casual. “I’m going to teach you some patience today.” Micah could’ve cum that very second, but a vague voice in the back of his mind reminded him of just how pathetic that would be. He bowed his head and leaned forward, eyes on Dutch’s prick. God, it looked just like he’d always imagined. Not that he’d imagined it often, but when he had… He subconsciously licked his lips, wetting the dry skin. Dutch was big, even soft, the dark curls at the base of his cock neatly trimmed.
“Don’t make me tell you again, boy.” Dutch sounded displeased. That was simply unacceptable. His mouth suddenly felt very dry as he leaned forward a little and licked over the head, his motion accompanied by a sharp intake of breath from Dutch. Emboldened a little, Micah lifted his cock up slightly to take the tip of it into his mouth, sucking gently as he felt the flesh harden beneath his touch. He was rather impressed by Dutch’s self-control; had their roles been reversed, he would’ve cum immediately. Guess that’s why he was on his knees, not Dutch.
He enjoyed the feeling of his cock growing in his mouth, quickly taking up more space, bullying its way down Micah’s throat. He gagged and choked, spluttering but refusing to pull back, forcing himself to take it. Dutch made a pleased noise at that, puffing his cigar as he leaned back, watching the dirty blond head bob in his lap. He wouldn’t quite say Micah looked good like this, but he sure looked a lot better than he usually did.
By the time Dutch was fully hard, Micah was struggling to fit the entirety of his cock in his mouth. He’d begun drooling a little, the trail of spit dripping down on his balls. It was messy, but Micah was in heaven. His senses were filled with Dutch, completely overtaking anything else. He could taste the saltiness of his cock, smell the sweat and musk of his groin whenever he sank down far enough for his nose to touch the black curls. His ears were ringing with the noises Dutch was making, soft gasps and sudden intakes of breath, a low groan making his heart (and cock) jump. He wanted to hear more of those noises, wanted Dutch to lose control, but he knew he wouldn’t get the pleasure of it. This was not about him or his pleasure; it was a show of dominance, and Micah just happened to get off on it.
One of his hands came to gently cup Dutch’s balls as he sucked, lightly massaging the now spit-slick skin. He could smell the cloud of smoke surrounding them as Dutch continued to puff on his cigar, watching him almost at a distance. The hand in his hair, tangling in the already messy strands, surprised him. The grip was firm, holding him tightly in place as Dutch suddenly thrust forward, the head of his cock bridging Micah’s throat. He couldn’t breathe as Dutch pulled out and thrust again, his balls slapping against his poorly shaven chin. He garbled a moan as Dutch thrust into him faster now, giving him no time to breathe, his head swimming. He registers, as if far away, just how filthy he sounded, choking and desperately sucking, moaning and groaning as Dutch thrust particularly hard, and it made his ears burn as his eyes closed with pleasure.
“You done this before, Micah?” Dutch sounded amused yet a little winded, clearly somewhat affected as he thrust into him hard. Micah’s ‘yes’ came out all garbled and choked off, but it successfully made Dutch thrust into his mouth harder, pushing all the way in and holding Micah’s head down to keep him there. He was trying hard to breathe through his nose, doing his best not to choke and splutter, the scent of Dutch filling his nostrils. God, he wanted to bathe in that scent, get it all over him, smell nothing else for the rest of time.
“Has old, scary Micah Bell been sucking cock behind my back?” Dutch sounded amused. “Been finding drunken strangers to suck off behind the saloon, have you?” Micah’s ears burned. He had. Found a stranger just drunk enough to not really care whose mouth was on their cock, taken them out back, sucked them dry with a hand on his gun, just in case.
“Didn’t take you for an invert, but I should’ve guessed.” Micah was feeling light-headed now, nose still firmly pushed against Dutch’s pubic bone. “Don’t you worry, son, I take very well to inverts.” He pulled, pulling Micah off his cock entirely, watching him cough and breathe heavily as he caught his breath.
“Get up here on the bed. I want to take you.” Micah almost choked on his own breath. He didn’t anticipate this. Sure, Dutch making him suck his cock to establish dominance wasn’t something he had expected, but this? He was torn between feeling shocked and ecstatic, settling somewhere in between with a distinctly nervous feeling mixed in.
He did as he was told, his knees popping as he stood up, the ache becoming suddenly very present. He felt his face burn as he crawled onto the bed on all fours, suddenly very conscious of his body.
He heard Dutch get up and walk a few steps, then heard a drawer open and close. He felt very watched as he waited, and flinched upon Dutch’s almost gentle touch on his back. “You done this before, Micah?” He hung his head in shame. “Yes, boss.” The flush had crept all the way down his chest now, making him feel feverish.
“And you give the girls shit for the work they do…” Dutch mumbled, a hand striking down on Micah’s arsecheek, painting the pale skin pink. “Not so high and mighty after all, are you son?” Micah flinched again as a slick finger prodded at his asshole, tracing over the rim before gently pushing in. “Who knew tough Mr. Bell would take it up the ass…” He twisted his finger to emphasise his words, a second finger quickly pushing its way in alongside it. Micah had begun to shake a little, torn between extreme embarrassment and enjoyment. Dutch had kept his rings on; he felt the cool metal as he pushed his fingers in to the base, the slight flare of the rings catching on his rim as he pulled back out. Micah’s mouth was hanging open, he was panting and groaning as Dutch played with him, sweat beginning to grow on his forehead. A third finger bullied its way in, the stretch burning in a decidedly pleasurable way.
“I think you’re ready to take me.” He didn’t feel ready, not at all. But he nodded anyways, knowing that the stretch would hurt. It made him want it all the more. He groaned as he felt the blunt tip of Dutch’s cock against his hole, flesh slowly beginning to yield under the pressure. The burn of the stretch made Micah’s eyes water, but he couldn’t help but push back a little, urging Dutch on. He heard him curse behind him as he pushed in, slowly for now, until he was seated fully inside him.
“You’re a lot tighter than I thought, Micah, I was expecting your hole to be loose…” He heard Dutch say, the twisted compliment making his dick jump. Dutch remained fully seated for a moment, enjoying the impossible tightness enveloping him, before he began to thrust.
“Oh god…” Micah cried out, his head dropping down as he panted, low moans spilling from him uncontrollably. Dutch’s hand found his hair again and pulled, tilting his head back and exposing his throat.
“Let me hear you, son.” Micah’s noises became whimpers as the grip tightened, pulling firmly on his long hair now. His cock felt like it was about to explode, but Dutch didn’t touch it, and he got a certain feeling that he was not supposed to touch himself either. Then Dutch shifted his angle, and Micah shouted in pleasure, his body alight. His face burned at the thought that someone could very well hear them, didn’t even have to be listening closely anymore, it was so clear what Dutch was doing to him. They would all know, all know that Micah had become Dutch’s bitch, his to fuck, and the thought filled him with pride, much to his own surprise. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, but he let out another loud moan, this time on purpose, wanting someone to hear, to know. Maybe Arthur would hear it and finally believe that Dutch was on Micah’s side, if he dared fuck him. Or maybe Molly, show her what her beloved Dutchie was really capable of, showing her that he’d rather fuck another man than fuck her. Or maybe Bill, he’d get a real kick out of it and listen with his hand down the front of his trousers.
A hard smack brought him back into the tent with Dutch, back into his own body from where he was floating in his imagination. “Fuck…taking it so good Micah.” How good those words felt, making his chest burst with pride, his cock dripping a steady flow of pre-cum, staining the blanket beneath them. He couldn’t help himself; he had to get a hand around his cock. But Dutch didn’t let him. He spotted his movement to grasp his aching cock and slapped his hand away. “This is a lesson in patience, remember?” Micah groaned in response, frustrated despite the fire in his chest running hotter than ever. Perhaps it was because of this very reason. Micah’s brain felt like it had stopped working, stopped rational thought and replaced every notion with ‘Dutch’. The ache of the stretch had faded, and each thrust was now filled with delicious pleasure, the tip of his cock firmly hitting his prostate with each movement. Micah’s eyes were rolling as he groaned, feeling as if anchored only by Dutch’s cock and his grip in his hair. He had no idea how long they remained like this, but he found his throat sore and his voice hoarse by the time Dutch’s thrusts sped up, and low curses were emitting from him.
“Fuck…look at you…so good…” The words made something in Micah’s foggy brain feel warm and fuzzy, the desperate ache in his cock only growing. “Fuck, gonna…” Dutch grunted. “Please boss, let me come, please…” Micah whimpered, feeling as if he was about to explode. But Dutch’s grip on him remained as he groaned “No…patience.” It was maddening. But it made Micah’s head spin, his cock feeling as if it was about to explode without even a touch. Behind him, Dutch made a loud noise, a choked off grunt, and his hips thrust uncontrollably, an odd, hot feeling spreading inside of Micah. He moaned as he felt Dutch’s cum spill into him, his own cock now flowing freely with precum. He felt Dutch’s weight above him for a moment as he caught his breath, and then he was gone. He pulled out, leaving Micah feeling strangely empty and decidedly sticky wet, producing a handkerchief to clean his dick off with. He didn’t offer it to Micah. Micah remained like that, on all fours, until he heard the strike of a match. He moved to look at Dutch, who was watching him, a cigar in his hand.
“You may touch yourself now.” Micah almost sobbed in relief. His hand flew to his cock, the plentiful precum making the glide easy as he pulled on it quickly. He only needed a few strokes before he was spilling in his fist, panting as if he had run a mile, feeling his ass clench around nothing. Dutch’s eyes remained on him the entire time, a satisfied grin on his face as he sucked on his cigar. He watched as Micah dressed, cum still sticky on his skin, his legs shaking, watched as he put on his hat and went to leave the tent.
“Better remember your lesson, son.” Dutch called after him. By the ache of his arse, Micah was sure he wouldn’t forget about this anytime soon.