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A cool wind rolled across the prairies as Bill Williamson marched his way up the dirt walkway toward a cozy-looking farmhouse. The stars shone bright overhead, and the firelight from half a dozen campfires illuminated his path. The gang was settling in for the night, tents pinched and bed mats splayed out all across the yard surrounding the house. A small army of outlaws bickered and laughed amongst themselves as they prepared to sleep, though as Bill would walk by, there would be a brief shift into silence. All eyes would watch the soldier pass, and they’d only speak up again once they were sure he was out of earshot.
Bill tilted the brim of his straw hat lower, hiding his face in the shadow as he walked. The black duster he wore shifted in the breeze. He was an imposing figure, a heavy shadow wading through a sea of killers. Though that wasn’t why the other men feared him.
Arriving at the front door, he pushed his way inside. He shut the door behind him with a soft thud, and his gaze drifted across the entryway. He began to make his way through the house, toward where he knew the master bedroom was. The house was in a sorry state after the several days the gang had been hiding away there. Anything of value had already been pilfered, all stores of food and drink had been gone through with the scraps and tins having been simply tossed about, and the dried blood of the previous owners still stained the kitchen floor. Bill took a moment to stare at the darkening spatter that crawled across the floorboards and up along the far wall before he continued on his path.
Letting slip a tiny sigh, Bill raised his black-gloved fist and knocked on the door to the master bedroom. He could hear a small shuffle of movement from within the room before heavy footsteps approached, and the door was unlocked and opened.
Standing in the doorway was a portly gentleman, just a touch shorter than Bill. He was dressed down in a fine, white dress shirt, black town pants, and a partially undone rich purple ascot around his neck. His dark, wavy hair, peppered with dashing speckles of grey, was neatly brushed to the side, framing his rounded, handsome face. A thick and well-groomed mustache decorated his upper lip, and a long, striking scar adorned his left cheek. His dark green eyes narrowed up at Bill, sparkling with fondness. As he smiled, the raising of his chubby cheeks along with high cheekbones made him look as though he were the sweetest man in the world. Bill, of course, knew better than to believe that.
“Bill! I’ve been waiting up for you.” The man hummed excitedly in a deep, smooth voice, tinged by a hint of an Irish accent. He stepped out of the doorway and gestured into the bedroom. “Come in, come in!”
Bill obediently did as he was told, stepping through the door into the bedroom. The door was shut behind him, with the audible click of the lock being slid back into place. The room was somewhat lavish when compared to the rest of the house and the excuse for a campground that surrounded it. It was neat and tidy, the large bed piled with an assortment of blankets and pillows that the gang had brought with them, and a cozy lamp light radiated through the room. Bill took in what had become a familiar scene over the past few days before he turned to face his boss.
He stood face to face with Owen O’Driscoll, half of the infamous Brothers O’Driscoll and a leader of the wicked gang that shared their name. Bill had been a member of the gang for nearly half a year after he had been fool enough to draw his gun on Owen and Colm in an attempt to rob them for all they were worth. He hadn’t expected the horde of guards that crawled out of the woodwork to come to their bosses’s defense. That very well could have been the end of Bill’s life, had Owen not been oddly charmed by the wild anger that surged through Bill in the moment of his defeat.
From that day, Bill had become a member of their gang, and Owen had taken him under his wing. The two were practically inseparable, at Owen’s insistence, as Bill was steadily shaped into the gang leader’s personal guard dog. It had not been a difficult transition for Bill, as he already was a rowdy and violent beast. It just took Owen’s guiding hand and a torrent of praise to make a loyal animal out of the soldier.
At first, and for a long while, Bill hadn’t minded such treatment. There was an appeal in being so closely handled by a man like Owen, so charismatic and smart, and even so handsome. All qualities that Bill could never see in himself. Bill came to admire the man, and Owen was quick to realize this. After that, their relationship became far more physical. Owen knew he had Bill wrapped around his finger, and he was glad to take full advantage of that. Even that had been exciting in the beginning, but as the days wore on…
“How did it go?” Owen asked as he stepped towards Bill, him raising his hands to begin undoing the buttons of Bill’s duster for him.
“Fine…” Bill muttered as he watched his boss from the shade within his hat. He didn’t move as Owen approached, and he let the older man do as he pleased. “They didn’t see us comin’. It was over ‘fore they knew what was happenin’.” It had been a simple job. A quick hit to snuff out an annoyance for the bosses. Nothing special.
“Good, good. I’m so proud of you.” Owen hummed in that sweet, deep voice as he pulled Bill’s jacket down and folded it over his arm.
Bill was dressed in a deep purple and black checkered shirt and black pants held in place by suspenders. It wasn’t far from what Bill would choose for himself to wear, though the pieces had been hand-selected by Owen on his behalf. The boss had wanted them to match, and Bill didn’t protest. It was a branding of sorts that reminded all the other O’Driscolls who Bill served. No one dared approach Bill as a result, for better or for worse.
“Thank you, sir.” Bill muttered as his heart rate picked up under the weight of sweet words.
Owen set aside Bill’s duster before returning to stand in front of him. He reached up and plucked Bill’s hat from off his head to reveal the younger man to the room. Bill had a full, chubby face, adorned with thick, scratchy stubble. His short, brown hair was neatly brushed back, which made the early receding of his hairline a little more prominent. His bright brown eyes watched Owen closely as the older man moved around him, as though he were unsure what he would do next.
The boss smiled up at Bill as he took in the younger man’s rugged features, though he was quick to notice something was amiss. Across Bill’s cheek there was the deep red mark of dried blood splatter. Owen’s gaze softened as he took in the sight, reaching up to gently guide Bill’s head to the side so he could get a closer look at it.
“Oh dear, you’re a mess.” Owen tutted.
“I’m sorry.” Bill was quick to offer, as he lowered his head and looked toward the floor. “I guess I hadn’t noticed it.” The fighting had been a quick but bloody mess. He had been mindful to clean off his coat before returning, not wanting to look as though he were mistreating one of Owen’s gifts, but he had apparently forgotten to check his own body for any marks. Honestly, Bill probably could have been shot, and he would’ve been more concerned about bleeding on the shirt Owen gave him than by the injury itself.
“It’s alright, my dear.” The boss offered, flashing a bright grin once again that made Bill’s heart flutter and his mind panic. Owen gently patted Bill’s shoulder before taking a step back. “How about you take a seat for me? I’ll be right back.” He invited, gesturing to the stool that waited in front of a nearby vanity, before he turned and took his leave of the room.
Bill stood still for a moment before doing as he was told and taking a seat. He sat there waiting obediently for several minutes before Owen finally returned. The portly gentleman entered the room, a cloth in one hand and a pail of water in the other. He moved to stand before Bill, now towering over his pet, as he set the pail down on the vanity.
“I had one of the boys fetch us some water. Let's get you cleaned up.” Owen offered, as he started wetting the cloth. “Take off your shirt.” He continued, a smile still resting on his lips as he gave the simple command.
There was a split second of hesitation before Bill started to undo the buttons of his shirt. His eyes glanced back and forth between Owen and his own working hands, worried that he somehow might find a way to make a mistake. To his relief, the last button came undone, and he carefully took off the shirt, folding it and setting it aside.
“That’s a good boy.” Owen hummed approvingly as he took Bill’s chin in one hand and guided it up to face him.
Bill’s scruffy cheeks began to burn a pale red at the praise, at the touch, and as Owen leaned in close to him so only a few inches of space separated their faces. Owen began to gingerly dab the damp cloth against Bill’s cheek, carefully scrubbing away the evidence of the soldier’s dirty work.
“You did good work for me today, sweetheart.” Owen hummed as he carefully worked, knowing the effect such silly little names had on Bill. “I think, once we have you looking presentable, that you’ve earned yourself a little treat.”
Bill gripped the edges of the stool as he listened to Owen speak and felt that gentle, caring touch. His heart raced faster, but still his mind whirled with anxiety. Bill knew he needed to do as he was told, fearing what would come if he disappointed Owen, but it had been a long day. The soldier had gone to war for his bosses; he had killed for them, and he’d ridden back and forth across the prairies to do it. For the more experienced killers in the gang, it was never something to think twice about, but for Bill, it still weighed heavily on him.
They sat quietly as Owen continued to work, and before long Bill’s face had been washed clean. Owen discarded the bloodstained cloth and was quick to rinse his own hands with the remaining water.
With that done, Owen circled Bill like a hunter, inspecting that he was up to the boss’s standards. Owen slowly came to rest behind Bill. He leaned down again, resting his chin on one of Bill’s broad shoulders. His arms snaked around the younger man’s midsection, sliding beneath his arms to embrace his heavyset and hairy figure.
“You look lovely, dear.” Owen purred against Bill’s ear, making the younger man’s face burn a deeper shade of red. Owen’s hands began to wander, stroking possessively across Bill’s pecs and over the curve of his stomach. Owen pressed his lips to the side of Bill’s neck, tickling the sensitive skin there with his mustache. “How about you come to bed with me?”
Silence hung in the air for the moment as the invitation was extended, though Bill knew it was not one that could be declined. Still, he hesitated. They had done this plenty of times before, Owen leading him off so they could have their fun. It was enjoyable, most of the time, but Owen had an appetite that Bill couldn’t always satisfy. Not without a little pushing.
“I—” Bill started, his voice cracking under the weight. He cleared his throat and finally answered, “I’m really tired, Owen… Can I just go to bed?”
The request hung in the still air for a moment before Owen drew back, releasing Bill from his embrace.
“Excuse me?” Owen asked, his voice low and calm, with the dissatisfaction hiding just beneath the surface. The boss walked around Bill to stand in front of him, the smile having faded from his chubby face as he watched his pet intently.
“It’s just… It’s been a long day. I don’t really think—"
Bill’s answer was cut short by a sharp slap, Owen’s hand striking across Bill’s face hard enough to fill the room with a rough crack and leave a bright red print on the younger man’s soft face. Bill stayed in his seat, though he’d been thrown off balance by the blow. He lowered his head and looked up at Owen with wide, fearful eyes.
“Unbelievable. With everything I do for you, you’d really reject me like this? I offer to share myself with someone like you, and you would just go and spit in my face? Why do you want to hurt me, Marion?” Owen hissed, the anger quick to bubble to the surface as he glared down at the frightened dog before him. “I share my room with you. My bed. I keep you warm and fed and clean. I keep you safe from all the fools out there, and you won’t even open up to me. I should have you tossed out of here. Maybe an animal like you doesn’t deserve a bed. You can sleep in the barn with the horses.”
Panic spiked through Bill’s mind as Owen’s frustration grew. That name cut him deep, and the threats sent a chill through his bones. He knew Owen would make good on such things, as he had done it before. The first time Bill had dared to refuse him, he’d spent a week sleeping on the ground with nothing but his jacket for shelter. His body ached at the memory alone. The sting in his cheek was grounding though, stopping Bill from fully succumbing to his mounting anxiety and losing the strength to speak. So, with the energy he still had, he knew he needed to plead.
“I’m sorry!” Bill spat. He cast himself off the stool and fell to his knees in front of Owen. “I’m sorry, sir.” He repeated, trying to steady the quivering in his voice. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, sir.” Bill reached up to grab at Owen’s trousers, leaning in to rest his head against the older man’s thigh. “Please… please don’t send me away.” Bill had plenty of reasons to fear Owen’s company, but deep in his gut, he feared being apart from him more. After all, staying at Owen’s side was a far gentler fate than being tossed out into that cruel world with nothing.
There was another long moment of silence as the anger slowly faded from Owen’s face, and a soft look of pity eventually crossed his soft features. Once again, he looked as though he were as sweet as could be as he reached down and gently ran his fingers through Bill’s hair. He petted his guard dog tenderly, feeling the strong man tremble under his touch.
“No, I’m sorry, Marion.” Owen spoke softly as he stroked Bill. “I know you’re such a hard-working man. I shouldn’t push you. So, how about we just make it quick, then you can get some well-earned rest?” He offered, as though it were a compromise, with a little tilt of his head.
“O-Okay… Thank you, sir. Bill muttered, looking up with wide, misty eyes as he nodded gratefully at the opportunity.
Owen reached down and took Bill by the arms, guiding him up to his feet. The boss’s hands gently glided along Bill’s sides as he eyed the young man up and down before meeting his sorry gaze.
“You know I love you, don’t you, Marion?” Owen offered quietly, with a soft smile on his lips.
“I… I know.” Bill nodded cautiously, grabbing tightly to Owen’s shirt, clinging to him. “I love you too.” He spoke softly, knowing it was what he was meant to say.
Owen gently took Bill’s hand into his own and guided the younger man toward the bed. Standing at the edge of it, Owen began undressing. The fine garments he adorned himself with were carefully stripped away before being neatly folded and set aside. After just a moment, Owen stood fully nude before Bill.
The O’Driscoll was proud of his heavy, curved figure, standing tall in the company of his pet. A soft pelt of dark hair adorned his body, adding to his dashingly masculine appeal. Owen sat himself down on the edge of the bed and spread his thick thighs, eagerly presenting his pussy to Bill, which was dressed in a neatly trimmed bush of black hair. Owen propped himself up with one hand as he leaned back and put his other hand between his legs, using two fingers to spread the lips of his manhood invitingly.
“Come here, handsome. Show me just how much you love me.” Owen instructed, now watching Bill through half-lidded eyes.
Bill’s heavy figure was still trembling slightly, though he tensed his body in an effort to force himself to calm down. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes to dispel the collecting tears, then nodded once again. Slowly, the soldier lowered himself back down to his knees before Owen. He reached up, resting his hands on the older man’s plush thighs, as he did as he was told and pressed his face between them.
A soft hum of satisfaction rolled off of Owen’s silver tongue as Bill’s lips brushed against his manhood, kissing it tenderly. Bill’s tongue lapped slowly along Owen’s entrance, teasing it testingly, as his eyes stayed fixed on Owen’s face to watch for his approval. The pet moved carefully for that first brief moment, only touching Owen gingerly, afraid of rushing and once again souring the boss’s good mood. That careful approach only lasted for a little bit, though, as Owen was quick to press his free hand to the back of Bill’s head. His thick fingers gripped Bill’s short, brown hairs as he pushed the soldier’s face more firmly between his thighs.
Bill closed his eyes as he was buried deeper in, and he pressed his tongue between Owen’s lips and began to worship his warm, soft folds. His tongue swirled against Owen’s cunt, working its way into well-practiced motions, things that Bill knew the boss enjoyed. It wasn’t long before the sounds of Owen’s pleasure filled the room, deep, rumbling moans escaping the older man as he indulged in the tender attention.
“Oh, you’re such a good boy, Marion. You take such good care of me.” Owen praised, easing his grip on Bill’s hair, and starting to gently pet him once again.
The name still stung as it reached Bill’s ears, reminding him that he was still on thin ice. He didn’t dare to reply and instead focused on his duty, lapping at Owen’s sensitive lips until the teasing words of praise melted into more cries of satisfaction.
Bill kept at a steady pace for a long while, feeling as Owen grew wet against his lips. There was a worsening soreness in Bill’s neck, but he stayed firmly in place, doing as he was instructed.
Bill began to drift just a little further upward, lapping his tongue across Owen’s stiff clit. A sharp huff of pleasure rushed from Owen, and Bill took it as a sign that he was free to continue. Bill pushed himself up off the ground a little, leading Owen to lay back across the bed. Bill leaned over the edge of the bed as he wrapped his lips around Owen’s clit and swirled his tongue around it. A rough hand slid up along Owen’s thigh until the soldier's calloused fingers were teasing his entrance. Bill pressed a digit into the older man, fingering him as Owen’s hips began to buck and grind against his face. A second finger was quick to join the first.
Bill’s tongue tenderly tortured the old man’s clit as he finger fucked his tight pussy. Both of Owen’s hands gripped the back of Bill’s skull, pushing him firmly down between his legs. Bill’s nose was buried into Owen’s bush, his nostrils filled with the scent of the man’s rising excitement. Bill’s fingers moved faster, and Owen bucked harder until he threw his head back.
“Bill!” The boss cried through gritted teeth as he came, a rush of warmth spilling from him and splashing across Bill’s chin and hand. Bill continued to work as Owen rode the wave of release, right up until the pleasure became too much for his sensitive parts. Suddenly, Owen’s grip released, and he pushed a hand against Bill’s forehead, shoving the man off of him.
Owen panted hard as his body went limp against the bed. Bill rose to his feet, standing there patiently at the edge as he waited for his next instructions. A few moments passed before Owen seemed to regain his senses, and he sat up and offered Bill a wide, toothy grin.
“You’re such a good boy, Bill.” Owen hummed in praise.
Hearing his real name again, spoken so plainly, put a little bit of ease back into Bill’s mind.
“Thank you, sir.” Bill muttered softly, smiling back at Owen.
The boss sat up the rest of the way. He placed one hand on Bill’s side and the other on the soldier’s cheek, pulling Bill down and stealing him into a kiss. Bill leaned into the loving gesture, even smiling a little wider against Owen’s lips. When Owen drew back, Bill stood up straight once again.
“I love you, sweetheart.” Owen cooed.
“I love you too, sir.” Bill offered a little more confidently, knowing he was once again in his partner’s good graces.
“How ‘bout you go clean yourself up and come back to bed?” Owen suggested, before crawling back onto the bed to slump against the pillow.
Bill nodded and quickly stepped away. He hurried off to rinse his face and hands clean before returning to Owen’s bed. By the time he had returned, Owen had already crawled beneath the covers and fallen asleep. There was a twinge of disappointment as Bill pawed at his trousers to try and more comfortably position his own arousal. It was a bothersome thing, and it wasn’t the first time he had been left unsatisfied. Bill knew Owen would be mad if he woke to him tending to himself without permission, so the soldier simply sighed and followed the other man into bed. He slipped beneath the covers and moved beside Owen, resting his head on the older man’s chest. He lay there for a while, taking in the other man’s warmth and listening to the beating of his heart. It was a peaceful thing, to be in the boss’s good graces. Staying there was difficult, but Bill did his best to be good. Eventually exhaustion outweighed his frustration, and Bill managed to fade away into sleep.