Dust

Request for cowboys. Doing short requests (<500w)!

Feel free to drop requests in the replies or into my askbox. If you’d like a leave a tip for your own request or someone else’s, my tip jar is here.

The bedroll is barely a comfort at all under his back as Jeb shoves him down, standing over Lew with his legs apart over Lew’s waist, his feet planted. Lew watches, leaned back on his shoulders, as Jeb’s fingers go to his belt buckle and undo it.

“Whatcha gonna do, piss on me?” Lew asks.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jeb retorts immediately, grinning down at him, and Lew laughs as he makes to sit up, but Jeb nudges him back again with his knee, pushing his jeans down around his knees before he drops forward.

Jeb’s not a heavy weight over him, but Lew’s breath catches in his throat as Jeb’s knees settle on the roll either side of Lew’s head, Jeb’s body framing him in. Lew can smell him, can smell the dust that clings to his jeans, can smell the day’s sweat on him and how the dust has mingled in with that too, left a clay film over everywhere his skin has been bared today — on his forehead, over the tops of his cheeks, the backs of his hands, his wrists. The sliver of skin between where his bandana had stopped and his shirt collar had opened out on the ride today.

Lew opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and he can’t hold back the soft moan that ekes out of his throat as Jeb eases forward and lays the head of his prick on Lew’s tongue, leans forward.

Like this, there’s no way to control the pace, no way to command how Jeb moves and how much his cock sinks into Lew’s throat — Lew grunts breathlessly as Jeb’s palms press into the earth over his head. He’s on his knees and hands over Lew’s face and fucking into his mouth, sinking his cock into the back of it, rutting against his tongue, and Lew moans as he’s engulfed by the salt-sweat taste of Jeb’s cock on his tongue, the scent of the other man’s musk filling his nostrils, overwhelming him, overcoming him.

He chokes when Jeb sinks as deeply as he can, lays damn near flat on the fucking ground, and Lew can see out of the corner of his eye Jeb’s fingers clutching into the earth, hear him groan at the pleasure of it, the pleasure Lew’s mouth can give him, the pleasure it gives Jeb to use him.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Jeb says.

“Mmm,” Lew replies, and Jeb moans — Lew can feel his cock pulsing, feel the jerk and jump of it against his tongue, feel his come wash right down his throat, has to work to swallow it, to keep it from painting the insides of his lungs instead.

Jeb pulls back, sits on Lew’s chest, breathing heavily, hands trembling.

“Now ride me,” Lew tells him, and Jeb looks down at him — where his cheeks blush, the red rises on his face until it meets where the dirt stains stop.

“Yeah,” he says faintly, and rushes to undo Lew’s own jeans.