Sex in a hat
May. 12th, 2006 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tygati^^; Gomen, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starparty, I stole your phrase. But it was so lovely... ^^
... somehow I'd like to be able to blame this all onmaderr, but all she did was give me names... >.>; The rest of this madness is solely a product of my deranged brain.
I make no claims to knowing a bloody thing about cowboys. ^^; 100% winging it.
---
Daniel sighed and watched as the last of the herd ambled into the corral just as the sun cast its final dying rays over the prairie. It had been a long drive this time, much longer than it should have been, and too many things had gone wrong. Now they'd arrived, with only half the head they'd started out with and two hands -gods.. Jon, Micah- two hands lost.
Once the gate was secured, Daniel and the three other remaining cowboys turned their tired mounts away from the fiery sunset and toward the sprawling ranch house owned by the elusive C. M. Ferrah whose sudden explosion into the ranching business had prompted this ill-concieved venture.
The quartet saw their mounts as far as the stables, milling around uncertainly for a bit before looking to Daniel. He realized with a start that Jon's loss left him as the senior rider on the team.
I should have refused... We all knew something was wrong when Rainbear wouldn't ride with us... Daniel thought, feeling drained.
Drawing in a deep breath, the blond cowboy raised his head and nodded once to the others. With varying sighs of relief they scattered, off in search of food and drink, leaving the thankless task of reporting in to Daniel.
Straightening his shoulders and putting as much confidence into his steps as he had left, Daniel climbed the wide wooden stairs and rapped sharply upon the doorframe. It opened so swiftly that his hand had not quite lowered yet, leaving him face to face with the biggest indian he'd ever seen. The man looked him over once, then smiled in a completely unreassuring manner.
"Second door on yer left," the indian muttered with a jerk of his head to indicate the direction. He stepped back only just enough for Daniel to squeeze past, seeming to take some sort of perverse pleasure in the cowboy's discomfort. Daniel ignored him as best he could, moving down the plush hallway at a rather faster clip than a cowboy's usual ambling saunter.
The second door was open, revealing a lavishly furnished sitting room which must have cost a fortune to haul out west. Here and there were bits of 'western' influence, though they were few and far between. He really did not want to deal with one of the prim and proper cityboys who felt the need to prove themselves by taking on the Great Outdoors.
Daniel stepped into the room, looking around slowly for any sign of his erstwhile host. The thud of his boots was muffled by the haphazard carpeting, barely carrying beyond his own ears, and the surrounding silence was not at all reassuring.
"Jon Carlington, I presume?" a sharp, nasal voice inquired from behind him.
Daniel jumped, one hand on his gun and the other on his knife before he'd finished turning. Directly behind him stood a finely dressed gentleman of late middle-age, peering distastefully at him over a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He had arrogant look of someone accustomed to getting their way and Daniel felt his heart drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his boots.
"Daniel Wynter, sir," Daniel replied, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as his nerves. "Jon... Jon didn't make it."
"Ah," the man sniffed, stepping around Daniel and taking a seat behind the thick oak desk. "I see."
He steepled his hands together, blue eyes rather piercing in their intensity. "You then will be taking responsibility for the failure to deliver our order from Mr. Winthrop?"
Breathe, Daniel...
"Apparently so," Daniel responded, keeping his tone even so that none of his anger at this foolhardy venture showed through. "I'm the senior rider of those of us who made it here."
"Well then, Mr. Wynter," the man purred, his voice going oily and condescending, "How do you explain your... misplacement... of fully half the head you were supposed to arrive with?"
Daniel tensed, his hands clenching at air as he fought down his automatic reaction to reach out and strangle the man. Not exactly a good thing to have on one's record- even if he doubted he'd be able to get re-hired after word of this last run got around.
Fuck it. We're screwed anyway.
Brown eyes narrowing dangerously, Daniel proceeded to tell the asshole exactly whose fault this whole fiasco had been, and why, in the blistering no-holds-barred lingo of a wild west cowboy. When he finished, he stood there glaring defiantly, fully expecting to be thrown out at any moment.
Which would be why he was startled almost out of his wits when a booming ripple of laughter sounded behind him. Daniel whirled, thinking that if one more person decided to sneak up on him then he was going to shoot them, preferrably in the balls.
Then he got a look at this newest arrival.
The man had several inches on Daniel and the general build of someone who looked like he wrestled grizzly bears for exercise. He was dressed in faded denim and flannel, albeight in considerably better repair than Daniel's, and his hat appeared to have taken at least one dunking in a river. He hadn't shaved in several days, lending to an uneven stubble spread across his face, but it was the eyes that really caught him. Emerald green and sparkling with humor, they were the eyes of a man who'd never known defeat.
"Ha!" the big man crowed, pointing across the room at the man Daniel had just cussed out, "He's got you, doesn't he Sam?"
The thin gentleman, 'Sam' apparently, scowled and rose to his feet. "The risks were calculated perfectly. Losses should not have been above twenty-seven percent at the maximum."
The big man laughed again and clasped a hand on Daniel's shoulder, nearly knocking him over in the process. "Quit being a sore loser, Sam. I told you we should've told old Winthrop to shove off, but you were convinced..."
Sam scowled. "One does not simply tell a man like Mr. Winthrop to 'shove off,' Mr. Ferrah. Relations must be maintained in order to-"
"Relations my ass. This is the West, Sam. Things run a little differently out here. Now why don't you go find someone else to annoy, or I'll have your hide back on the next train to Philadelphia."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting Daniel a scowl. "Yes, Mr. Ferrah..." he muttered, sitting back down and picking up a pen.
Mr. Ferrah? Wait, what? Daniel thought, dazed, as the big man led him from the room. As in the elusive C. M. Ferrah? What's going on here?
"Sorry about that," Mr. Ferrah said with a shrug and a smile, prodding Daniel through another doorway into what proved to be a rather well-stocked kitchen. "Sam's great for keeping everything in order, but he's a bit too much by the numbers sometimes..."
Daniel blinked, looking up into those emerald eyes and getting lost again in their depths. He didn't realize he was staring until Mr. Ferrah laughed again.
"What, do I have dirt on my face again?"
Daniel blushed and looked away, taking a few moments to gather his scattered wits. "No.. no.. I just... you're C. M. Ferrah? You're not.. um..."
"What you expected?" Ferrah finished, grinning. "Few people do. I'm kind of a black sheep, you might say. And call me Chuck."
Again, Daniel blinked. "Err..."
Chuck grinned. "I wouldn't think a fellow who just spouted off like that at Sam would have such a difficult time with something as simple as a name..."
Daniel scowled. "I'm not allowed to be a bit overwhelmed?"
"Nope," Chuck retorted, fetching two bowls from the cabinets and filling them with the contents of the pot that had been simmering over the fire. "You did a whole shitload better than I expected, going through the pass in the middle of the fucking winter storms. That tells me you've got something going for you, at least."
Daniel was silent a moment, then exhaled and looked up at the very confusing man opposite him. "That trip should never have been attempted in the first place," he stated flatly.
"No," Chuck agreed, looking serious for the first time since Daniel had seen him. "But I was in Boston when the offer came in, and Sam doesn't have enough experience out here to know when to say no." He frowned, the expression oddly out of place on him. "I think I will make good on that threat to send him back to Philly, even if it does mean a little more work for me."
"The other hands..." Daniel began, only to be cut off as Chuck shoved one of the bowls of stew into his hands.
"Will be amply rewarded for their exceptional job, and full letters of referral provided," Chuck finished for him, fishing a carrot out of the stew with his fingers and then yelping and waving his hand in the air. "Hot hot hot!"
The absurdity of the situation brought a quirk of a smile to Daniel's lips and he shook his head in amusement. "You are a strange man, Mr. Ferrah."
"Chuck," Chuck corrected, sticking the affected fingers in his mouth and somehow managing to talk around them. "Mr. Ferrah has to wear suits and comb his hair. Chuck gets to play in the dirt and see how much abuse denim can take."
A slight chuckle escaped Daniel's lips and he shook his head. "That explains the stubble then..." he said in amusement.
Chuck grinned. "Exactly," he agreed, then his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Daniel. "Though, you look rather worse-for-wear yourself..."
A raised eyebrow met this observation and Daniel resisted the impulse to let his tongue get him into trouble. "It's a little hard to get properly clean when one's been on the trail as long as we have," he said instead.
"Well then," Chuck announced, plucking the untouched stew bowl out of Daniel's hands, "Why don't we go get you cleaned up then?"
Daniel blinked, once more taken off-guard as he found himself summarily swept out of the kitchen and down the hall to what had to be the largest bathing room he'd ever seen. He did draw the line, however, when Chuck attempted to help him undress.
"Hands off," Daniel warned, his own hand once more going for the knife on his left hip. "I don't want to hurt anyone..."
Something gleamed within the depths of Chuck's green eyes, some deep fire that roared to life at Daniel's words.
"Ohhh?" Chuck drawled, tipping his hat down slightly and hiding those dancing eyes from view. "And just who did you think was going to get hurt, hmm?" the man inquired, not a single muscle betraying him until after he'd made his sudden leap.
With a muffled "Oof!" Daniel found himself lying flat on his back on the floor, Chuck sitting astride him and pinning his hands. The man was grinning, obviously pleased with himself for getting away with the maneuver, despite the way Daniel was glaring at him.
"You-"
It was as far as Daniel got as he found himself summarily kissed. Whatever other issues Chuck M. Ferrah might have had, he was a good kisser. Daniel found the anger draining out of him, replaced by a sort of need that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge. It had been a long time on the trail, and Chuck wasn't exactly difficult to look at, and... damnit! those eyes...
"Mmmph..." Daniel mumbled, giving Chuck the opening he needed to deepen the kiss and it was all he could do to avoid arching up against his tormenter. Damn but that man could kiss.
He was rather breathless when they parted, though he still managed to narrow his eyes into some semblance of a glare at the smug look on the bigger man's face.
"Well?" Chuck asked, smirking. "Still going to tell me hands off?"
In response, Daniel twisted one of his hands free and yanked Chuck back down for another bruising kiss. The big man apparently hadn't quite been expecting that, for he let go of Daniel's other hand in surprise. Daniel used the opportunity to flip them over so that he was atop Chuck, his hair entirely escaping from its clip and falling forward to frame his face.
"... maybe," Daniel decided at last, after they both could breathe again. "But first I get a bath."
Chuck grinned. "Can I help?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow, considering, then grinned a bit himself. "Why not?"
He managed to get to his feet, reaching down to offer Chuck a hand up only to find himself abruptly sprawled across the big man's chest and his lips once more held captive. They were both panting when they parted a third time, and Daniel lightly smacked the side of Chuck's head.
"Bath," he repeated firmly, earning a chuckle from Chuck.
"Alright, alright..."
Somehow they both made it to their feet, amidst numerous 'accidental' touches on both their parts. Getting undressed took even longer, enough that the double-tub nearly overflowed before they ever got in it.
Daniel removed his hat and hung it from the convenient hook on the back of the door before sauntering over and stepping into the water, fully aware of the eyes watching him the entire time. He sprawled, enjoying the luxurious feel of the largest bathtub in the west (Although given Chuck's size it was probably necessary) and shot his host a pointed look.
"Are you going to stand there and watch all day, or are you going to come help me get clean?" Daniel inquired archly.
Chuck smirked and tossed his hat casually at the counter, missing, before striding over to stand at the edge of the tub, one foot on the lip. "Hmmm... decisions, decisions..." he drawled.
Daniel rolled his eyes and reached up, hand glistening wetly as he wrapped it around Chuck's cock and tugged. "Get in here," he ordered.
When one's manhood is being held for ransom, one does not question orders. Even if one is the mysterious C. M. Ferrah. As soon as he'd made it into the water Daniel kissed him again, hand stroking his member firmly before releasing it to feel around for the soap.
Daniel broke the kiss and handed Chuck the soap at the same time, chocolate brown eyes dancing with a mixture of mischief and lust. "Well...?" he inquired archly.
Chuck blinked at the soap for a moment, then grinned and accepted it with a mocking salute. "As you command, oh beautiful one..."
The tables turned again as Chuck ran the soap across Daniel's chest with one hand, the other tracing down the cowboy's side and across his stomach. Daniel arched slightly into the touch, giving Chuck the opportunity to lean down and suck on his collarbone.
"Mmm..." Daniel murmured, threading his hands through Chuck's hair and squeaking as the man shifted his attention to one of Daniel's nipples. The firm pressure of Chuck's hand on his back kept him from squirming away, so he instead used his grip on the man's hair to pull his head back.
"Clean.. first..." Daniel panted, attempting to glare and not quite accomplishing it, although the insufferably smug look on Chuck's face helped. He splashed water into the man's face before struggling into a sitting position, snagging the soap and scrubbing himself clean as quickly as he could manage.
Chuck's hands were on him again, causing him to drop the soap as skilled fingers ran across his skin, setting his nerves aflame and sending blood rushing to his groin.
"Turn around..." Chuck whispered in Daniel's ear, helping him do so until Daniel was sitting with his back to Chuck. Chuck's hands left him then, but only momentarily, before they were threading through Daniel's hair in a sensual caress.
... unfinished, because my muse has now abandoned me. *le sigh*
starparty, I stole your phrase. But it was so lovely... ^^ ... somehow I'd like to be able to blame this all on
maderr, but all she did was give me names... >.>; The rest of this madness is solely a product of my deranged brain. I make no claims to knowing a bloody thing about cowboys. ^^; 100% winging it.
---
Daniel sighed and watched as the last of the herd ambled into the corral just as the sun cast its final dying rays over the prairie. It had been a long drive this time, much longer than it should have been, and too many things had gone wrong. Now they'd arrived, with only half the head they'd started out with and two hands -gods.. Jon, Micah- two hands lost.
Once the gate was secured, Daniel and the three other remaining cowboys turned their tired mounts away from the fiery sunset and toward the sprawling ranch house owned by the elusive C. M. Ferrah whose sudden explosion into the ranching business had prompted this ill-concieved venture.
The quartet saw their mounts as far as the stables, milling around uncertainly for a bit before looking to Daniel. He realized with a start that Jon's loss left him as the senior rider on the team.
I should have refused... We all knew something was wrong when Rainbear wouldn't ride with us... Daniel thought, feeling drained.
Drawing in a deep breath, the blond cowboy raised his head and nodded once to the others. With varying sighs of relief they scattered, off in search of food and drink, leaving the thankless task of reporting in to Daniel.
Straightening his shoulders and putting as much confidence into his steps as he had left, Daniel climbed the wide wooden stairs and rapped sharply upon the doorframe. It opened so swiftly that his hand had not quite lowered yet, leaving him face to face with the biggest indian he'd ever seen. The man looked him over once, then smiled in a completely unreassuring manner.
"Second door on yer left," the indian muttered with a jerk of his head to indicate the direction. He stepped back only just enough for Daniel to squeeze past, seeming to take some sort of perverse pleasure in the cowboy's discomfort. Daniel ignored him as best he could, moving down the plush hallway at a rather faster clip than a cowboy's usual ambling saunter.
The second door was open, revealing a lavishly furnished sitting room which must have cost a fortune to haul out west. Here and there were bits of 'western' influence, though they were few and far between. He really did not want to deal with one of the prim and proper cityboys who felt the need to prove themselves by taking on the Great Outdoors.
Daniel stepped into the room, looking around slowly for any sign of his erstwhile host. The thud of his boots was muffled by the haphazard carpeting, barely carrying beyond his own ears, and the surrounding silence was not at all reassuring.
"Jon Carlington, I presume?" a sharp, nasal voice inquired from behind him.
Daniel jumped, one hand on his gun and the other on his knife before he'd finished turning. Directly behind him stood a finely dressed gentleman of late middle-age, peering distastefully at him over a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. He had arrogant look of someone accustomed to getting their way and Daniel felt his heart drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his boots.
"Daniel Wynter, sir," Daniel replied, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as his nerves. "Jon... Jon didn't make it."
"Ah," the man sniffed, stepping around Daniel and taking a seat behind the thick oak desk. "I see."
He steepled his hands together, blue eyes rather piercing in their intensity. "You then will be taking responsibility for the failure to deliver our order from Mr. Winthrop?"
Breathe, Daniel...
"Apparently so," Daniel responded, keeping his tone even so that none of his anger at this foolhardy venture showed through. "I'm the senior rider of those of us who made it here."
"Well then, Mr. Wynter," the man purred, his voice going oily and condescending, "How do you explain your... misplacement... of fully half the head you were supposed to arrive with?"
Daniel tensed, his hands clenching at air as he fought down his automatic reaction to reach out and strangle the man. Not exactly a good thing to have on one's record- even if he doubted he'd be able to get re-hired after word of this last run got around.
Fuck it. We're screwed anyway.
Brown eyes narrowing dangerously, Daniel proceeded to tell the asshole exactly whose fault this whole fiasco had been, and why, in the blistering no-holds-barred lingo of a wild west cowboy. When he finished, he stood there glaring defiantly, fully expecting to be thrown out at any moment.
Which would be why he was startled almost out of his wits when a booming ripple of laughter sounded behind him. Daniel whirled, thinking that if one more person decided to sneak up on him then he was going to shoot them, preferrably in the balls.
Then he got a look at this newest arrival.
The man had several inches on Daniel and the general build of someone who looked like he wrestled grizzly bears for exercise. He was dressed in faded denim and flannel, albeight in considerably better repair than Daniel's, and his hat appeared to have taken at least one dunking in a river. He hadn't shaved in several days, lending to an uneven stubble spread across his face, but it was the eyes that really caught him. Emerald green and sparkling with humor, they were the eyes of a man who'd never known defeat.
"Ha!" the big man crowed, pointing across the room at the man Daniel had just cussed out, "He's got you, doesn't he Sam?"
The thin gentleman, 'Sam' apparently, scowled and rose to his feet. "The risks were calculated perfectly. Losses should not have been above twenty-seven percent at the maximum."
The big man laughed again and clasped a hand on Daniel's shoulder, nearly knocking him over in the process. "Quit being a sore loser, Sam. I told you we should've told old Winthrop to shove off, but you were convinced..."
Sam scowled. "One does not simply tell a man like Mr. Winthrop to 'shove off,' Mr. Ferrah. Relations must be maintained in order to-"
"Relations my ass. This is the West, Sam. Things run a little differently out here. Now why don't you go find someone else to annoy, or I'll have your hide back on the next train to Philadelphia."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting Daniel a scowl. "Yes, Mr. Ferrah..." he muttered, sitting back down and picking up a pen.
Mr. Ferrah? Wait, what? Daniel thought, dazed, as the big man led him from the room. As in the elusive C. M. Ferrah? What's going on here?
"Sorry about that," Mr. Ferrah said with a shrug and a smile, prodding Daniel through another doorway into what proved to be a rather well-stocked kitchen. "Sam's great for keeping everything in order, but he's a bit too much by the numbers sometimes..."
Daniel blinked, looking up into those emerald eyes and getting lost again in their depths. He didn't realize he was staring until Mr. Ferrah laughed again.
"What, do I have dirt on my face again?"
Daniel blushed and looked away, taking a few moments to gather his scattered wits. "No.. no.. I just... you're C. M. Ferrah? You're not.. um..."
"What you expected?" Ferrah finished, grinning. "Few people do. I'm kind of a black sheep, you might say. And call me Chuck."
Again, Daniel blinked. "Err..."
Chuck grinned. "I wouldn't think a fellow who just spouted off like that at Sam would have such a difficult time with something as simple as a name..."
Daniel scowled. "I'm not allowed to be a bit overwhelmed?"
"Nope," Chuck retorted, fetching two bowls from the cabinets and filling them with the contents of the pot that had been simmering over the fire. "You did a whole shitload better than I expected, going through the pass in the middle of the fucking winter storms. That tells me you've got something going for you, at least."
Daniel was silent a moment, then exhaled and looked up at the very confusing man opposite him. "That trip should never have been attempted in the first place," he stated flatly.
"No," Chuck agreed, looking serious for the first time since Daniel had seen him. "But I was in Boston when the offer came in, and Sam doesn't have enough experience out here to know when to say no." He frowned, the expression oddly out of place on him. "I think I will make good on that threat to send him back to Philly, even if it does mean a little more work for me."
"The other hands..." Daniel began, only to be cut off as Chuck shoved one of the bowls of stew into his hands.
"Will be amply rewarded for their exceptional job, and full letters of referral provided," Chuck finished for him, fishing a carrot out of the stew with his fingers and then yelping and waving his hand in the air. "Hot hot hot!"
The absurdity of the situation brought a quirk of a smile to Daniel's lips and he shook his head in amusement. "You are a strange man, Mr. Ferrah."
"Chuck," Chuck corrected, sticking the affected fingers in his mouth and somehow managing to talk around them. "Mr. Ferrah has to wear suits and comb his hair. Chuck gets to play in the dirt and see how much abuse denim can take."
A slight chuckle escaped Daniel's lips and he shook his head. "That explains the stubble then..." he said in amusement.
Chuck grinned. "Exactly," he agreed, then his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Daniel. "Though, you look rather worse-for-wear yourself..."
A raised eyebrow met this observation and Daniel resisted the impulse to let his tongue get him into trouble. "It's a little hard to get properly clean when one's been on the trail as long as we have," he said instead.
"Well then," Chuck announced, plucking the untouched stew bowl out of Daniel's hands, "Why don't we go get you cleaned up then?"
Daniel blinked, once more taken off-guard as he found himself summarily swept out of the kitchen and down the hall to what had to be the largest bathing room he'd ever seen. He did draw the line, however, when Chuck attempted to help him undress.
"Hands off," Daniel warned, his own hand once more going for the knife on his left hip. "I don't want to hurt anyone..."
Something gleamed within the depths of Chuck's green eyes, some deep fire that roared to life at Daniel's words.
"Ohhh?" Chuck drawled, tipping his hat down slightly and hiding those dancing eyes from view. "And just who did you think was going to get hurt, hmm?" the man inquired, not a single muscle betraying him until after he'd made his sudden leap.
With a muffled "Oof!" Daniel found himself lying flat on his back on the floor, Chuck sitting astride him and pinning his hands. The man was grinning, obviously pleased with himself for getting away with the maneuver, despite the way Daniel was glaring at him.
"You-"
It was as far as Daniel got as he found himself summarily kissed. Whatever other issues Chuck M. Ferrah might have had, he was a good kisser. Daniel found the anger draining out of him, replaced by a sort of need that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge. It had been a long time on the trail, and Chuck wasn't exactly difficult to look at, and... damnit! those eyes...
"Mmmph..." Daniel mumbled, giving Chuck the opening he needed to deepen the kiss and it was all he could do to avoid arching up against his tormenter. Damn but that man could kiss.
He was rather breathless when they parted, though he still managed to narrow his eyes into some semblance of a glare at the smug look on the bigger man's face.
"Well?" Chuck asked, smirking. "Still going to tell me hands off?"
In response, Daniel twisted one of his hands free and yanked Chuck back down for another bruising kiss. The big man apparently hadn't quite been expecting that, for he let go of Daniel's other hand in surprise. Daniel used the opportunity to flip them over so that he was atop Chuck, his hair entirely escaping from its clip and falling forward to frame his face.
"... maybe," Daniel decided at last, after they both could breathe again. "But first I get a bath."
Chuck grinned. "Can I help?"
Daniel raised an eyebrow, considering, then grinned a bit himself. "Why not?"
He managed to get to his feet, reaching down to offer Chuck a hand up only to find himself abruptly sprawled across the big man's chest and his lips once more held captive. They were both panting when they parted a third time, and Daniel lightly smacked the side of Chuck's head.
"Bath," he repeated firmly, earning a chuckle from Chuck.
"Alright, alright..."
Somehow they both made it to their feet, amidst numerous 'accidental' touches on both their parts. Getting undressed took even longer, enough that the double-tub nearly overflowed before they ever got in it.
Daniel removed his hat and hung it from the convenient hook on the back of the door before sauntering over and stepping into the water, fully aware of the eyes watching him the entire time. He sprawled, enjoying the luxurious feel of the largest bathtub in the west (Although given Chuck's size it was probably necessary) and shot his host a pointed look.
"Are you going to stand there and watch all day, or are you going to come help me get clean?" Daniel inquired archly.
Chuck smirked and tossed his hat casually at the counter, missing, before striding over to stand at the edge of the tub, one foot on the lip. "Hmmm... decisions, decisions..." he drawled.
Daniel rolled his eyes and reached up, hand glistening wetly as he wrapped it around Chuck's cock and tugged. "Get in here," he ordered.
When one's manhood is being held for ransom, one does not question orders. Even if one is the mysterious C. M. Ferrah. As soon as he'd made it into the water Daniel kissed him again, hand stroking his member firmly before releasing it to feel around for the soap.
Daniel broke the kiss and handed Chuck the soap at the same time, chocolate brown eyes dancing with a mixture of mischief and lust. "Well...?" he inquired archly.
Chuck blinked at the soap for a moment, then grinned and accepted it with a mocking salute. "As you command, oh beautiful one..."
The tables turned again as Chuck ran the soap across Daniel's chest with one hand, the other tracing down the cowboy's side and across his stomach. Daniel arched slightly into the touch, giving Chuck the opportunity to lean down and suck on his collarbone.
"Mmm..." Daniel murmured, threading his hands through Chuck's hair and squeaking as the man shifted his attention to one of Daniel's nipples. The firm pressure of Chuck's hand on his back kept him from squirming away, so he instead used his grip on the man's hair to pull his head back.
"Clean.. first..." Daniel panted, attempting to glare and not quite accomplishing it, although the insufferably smug look on Chuck's face helped. He splashed water into the man's face before struggling into a sitting position, snagging the soap and scrubbing himself clean as quickly as he could manage.
Chuck's hands were on him again, causing him to drop the soap as skilled fingers ran across his skin, setting his nerves aflame and sending blood rushing to his groin.
"Turn around..." Chuck whispered in Daniel's ear, helping him do so until Daniel was sitting with his back to Chuck. Chuck's hands left him then, but only momentarily, before they were threading through Daniel's hair in a sensual caress.
... unfinished, because my muse has now abandoned me. *le sigh*