3:10 to Yuma, Ben/Dan, responsibility and not
It's been - Christ - it's been so long since someone has even gotten this close to him. At first it wasn't a problem, him not having a leg, but it was like the wound kept growing and growing, and he hasn't been touched since before the drought and the debt. To be touched and by him- Wade's searching hands drag over the bumps of his ribs, over the knobs of his spine, barely skimming across the sensitive skin. It's rapidly growing to be not enough, and at last Dan finds his voice, rasping and shaking, "Wade-"
"Ben," the outlaw corrects and then chuckles. "Damn, Dan, how much closer do we need to get?"
There's a promise in that question and Dan buries his face in one of the lacy pillows to block it out. But when Wade - Ben - pries his hips up and shoves his pants down and - oh God - closes a hand around his hard and aching cock, Dan twists his head to gasp. Ben pulls him onto his side and then presses against Dan's back, rubbing his chin along his shoulder, and holds fast.
"This is crazy - Fucking crazy. Wade, you can't-" He doesn't struggle, but Ben's grip loosens. "I gotta bring you in- My ranch- It's my responsibility- Wade-"
"Ben, Dan." The fingers around Dan's cock tighten again and Dan sobs. "Ben. Say it."
"Fuck, Wade-"
"Ben." He strokes and Dan almost comes right then. "Say it."
Dan can't say anything because the feel of Ben's hands on him is making him drunk and crazy and desperate. Ben's so warm - hot and burning like fire or sun - and Dan's been so damn cold lately. Ben's mouth is on him, scraping at the back of his neck, and it's impossible how Christ - God - fuck good it feels. And his cock - whatever Ben's doing to that, to him - pulling, rubbing, caressing -
He comes with a strangled cry, a flood of pleasure so sharp that his spine arches and knees bend and heart bruises his ribs. He can't move, can't breath until it's all out. When he's done and shivering, he has to blink to clear his eyes and head. In his ear, Ben laughs, low and throaty. "Told ya we'd be getting close," he murmurs, and then pulls his wet, slick fingers away from Dan's cock and drags them up Dan's hip. "Ready, Dan?" Dan can't answer, but Ben doesn't wait, anyway. He pushes, pushes in, and holds him down as Dan shakes. He shakes, but he still doesn't struggle; he trusts him, this goddamn outlaw, and maybe even - he maybe even - maybe even wants him. "All right, Dan," Ben's voice is gentle, coaxing, soft, while his fingers probe, open, stretch. He presses something and Dan gasps and his cock twitches. "Christ, I wish I could see your eyes-"
He pulls out his fingers; Dan's groan is cut off when Ben thrusts in. He makes fists in the sheets, grabbing handfuls and twisting. The intensity of the the feeling - of all the feelings: the thrusts, Ben's hands on his hips, the flicker of tongue and teeth on his back, the strain of his muscles - raises his cock again and he almost weeps in gratitude when Ben finds it and wraps his sticky fingers along Dan's length.
Ben leans into him, presses him into the mattress, presses his breath out, but that just adds to the sensation of it all. He's gonna go mad if he isn't already- The heat of Ben, inside and around him, is so good, better than and worth hell. He can't hold onto the pleasure for long - it's too much for him to fight against - and he comes again, with a grunt and a gasp, "Ben."