Good Night Moon

        by RavenD (ravendreams@earthlink.net)

        Archive: Yes

        Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/

        Category: pov

        Rating: NC17

        Warnings: None

        Spoilers: Have you seen the movie? You should see the movie.

        Summary: Roy watches Chon

        Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.

        Disclaimers: Roy and Chon belong to Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Pictures. I'm just playing with them. No harm, no foul.

        Notes: All mistakes are, as usual, mine.



        Good Night Moon
        by RavenD



        Dammit all to hell.

        He's doing it again; just like last night, like every night we're out here together. We're two lawmen, partners, riding together, sleeping under the stars, just like always. Except...

        He's doing it again -- that Chinaman thing -- kind of dancing, kind of fighting. He's moving, silent and fast, and he's stripped down to his britches, kind of glowing in the light from the fire and the moon.

        Sweating.

        Just a little, just enough to make him shine, just enough that I can smell his skin.

        Stop it, Roy.

        He's my partner, my friend. I'm supposed to be strong, a lawman now. Right, like that damned star changes anything, changes the fact that I talk and talk and no one listens except my partner - my partner who is doing things with his hands and feet that can't be natural, can't be real. I need to just stop watching him move, hands moving like they're caught in a wind and his hair, damp around his shoulders.

        Those shoulders would be slick underneath my hands, I'd bet money.

        Stop it, Roy.

        He's taken, for chrissake. So am I, for that matter.

        Taken.

        Taken down deep into a soft mouth, a hot throat, tongue licking me and my hands caught up in silky black hair and the moon reflecting in dark eyes. Chon's eyes grinning at...

        Oh, fuck. Focus, Roy. This is not helping.

        Turn over, Roy. Don't watch him. That's a good cowboy, turn your back, cover your head with the blanket. Don't look. Don't watch. Don't even think.

        'Cept I am thinking. And I'm listening. He's breathing, slow and deep and maybe a little hard, harder than normal anyways. I can hear his feet, his bare feet -- even though I told him, didn't I tell that greenhorned fool there's critters here that go hunting at night -- his bare feet moving through the crumbled up rocks and old ash from someone else who cooked here, bunked here.

        Fucked here?

        I listen, imagining his body until he moves off, gone to get wood, to get water, to piss. I don't care. I do care that he's gone and I can move my hand down, unfasten my britches, free myself. I turn, grabbing my hardness as I watch him, watch his back as he walks away.

        It's unnatural, that's what they tell me and I'm not looking to have him. I've got a woman waiting, at home, in town, in a lot of towns.

        But I watch him and when I fuck my hand, like I'm doing now. I can see his face, open and honest. I can taste the sweat, need it on my tongue. It sure doesn't feel unnatural with my dick in my hand.

        Chon's coming back too soon. I can hear him, see glimpses of him in the trees, the light of the moon making him seem pale, almost white. I need to take my hand out of my pants, off my dick, but it's too late to stop. Too late to just tuck myself back into my clothes and shut my eyes.

        It's too late and I'm too close.

        So close. I can feel my balls tightening, so close to glory.

        I can see him; he's wet. Been in the creek. Been naked in the creek and the dry denim clings to his thighs like tissue clings to tears.

        My hips are moving and my hands are getting dry and he's looking at me so I can't even lick my own palm to wet it.

        So close.

        Go.

        To.

        Bed.

        Chon.

        He stretches, arms going up and waistband slipping down and I groan, turning to my side, thrusting harder.

        "Roy? You okay, Roy?" His hand is on my shoulder and he's bending over me. A drop of water falls from his wet hair and lands at the corner of my lips, sliding into my mouth.

        Oh, fuck. Coming. I'm coming with him in my mouth and on my shoulder and I can smell him...

        "Yes... yes... fine... yes..."

        "Roy? You sure?" Is he laughing or does friendly concern sound different in a Chinaman's mouth?

        I catch my breath, lick the taste of him from inside my mouth. "Sure. I'm sleeping. Sleeping."

        Sleeping. That's what I'm doing. Sleeping with a sticky hand wiped on the grass beside me. Sleeping with the fire fading and this odd man, this Chinaman who won't get out of my head.

        C'mon Roy. It'll easier in the morning. Tomorrow I can ride into town and buy myself a bottle and a bath.

        A bath alone and maybe a sweet thing to take my mind off what I shouldn't be watching.

        I hear a low sigh, see the rocking in the blankets on the other side of the fire. Hear the soft whisper, a groaned "Roy."

        A bath alone.

        "Roy, pl...."

        I grin.

        Or maybe not.



        The End



        back...