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The Way to Deadwood

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They set up camp ten miles outside of the territory. The horses were left to graze and sleep unhitched from their harnesses, but tied to the front wheel of the wagon.

Sol Star looked over at his partner and smiled to himself. They'd intended to leave Montana a few days from now, in daylight. Instead tonight there was a mob and a hanging and Sol with his gun in his hand before a hasty retreat out of town.

Even with that less than illustrious exit, Seth Bullock already looked more relaxed, more excited than Sol could remember him being for a long while.

"Way I reckon, we'll be in Deadwood in two days," Seth said, coming around the wagon as Sol checked that all the merchandise was still secure, and that he hadn't left anything behind.

"Sounds about right," Sol agreed, waiting.

"Feels good to be going," Seth said. Seth wasn't one much for idle chatter, so Sol waited more to see what Seth was working his way around. "It'll be good to be free again," Seth continued, closer to Sol's back. Sol didn't turn, just hummed.


Sol had known him since Seth was 17, and he thought he could say that Sol knew him well. Seth had chafed at being marshal in Montana, but no matter what he said, Sol knew it wasn't because he felt some sort of burden over being marshal. It wasn't responsibility that wore on Seth, it was boredom.

Things had gotten too civilized there, drunken lynch mobs aside. Seth was no fan of chaos, but Sol had watched him eagerly wade into too many fights, sometimes throwing his own punches, sometimes staring everyone down, not to see that Seth thrived on creating order where he saw none.

Seth, though, always fought the things he liked the most, until he gave into them with anger and resentment.

Sol really hated Seth's father for what he had done to his friend.

Sol didn't startle when the warm hand rested on the back of his neck and turned him. He expected the almost violent crash of a mouth against his own, the clashing of teeth, and he tried to stay relaxed for it.

The kiss gentled, as did Seth's hand in his hair, and eventually Seth pulled back, breathing harshly, and looking at Sol in a familiar way. It was similar to how he'd looked at Sol earlier, after helping the man's fall in front of the marshal's office, giving that strong jerk to break the man's neck rather than let him strangle slow: the look was one of guilt mixed with fear, fear that Sol would change his mind, that he would hate Seth for who he was.

Sol reached up to Seth's head with his own hands, he held it gently, and eased Seth into another kiss, trying to tell his friend without words that it was okay. No one was stealing this from him, no one was punishing him for wanting it, least of all Sol.

"Two days to town," Seth said against his check, his hands moving down Sol's chest to his pants.

"And no one to hear us until then," Sol said, following his chain of thought, and his actions.

They didn't do this often. Sol did his best not to push his friend except when he thought Seth needed pushing, and the walls of their room over the saloon back in town had been too thin to trust no one hearing them. But now and then it all got too much for one of them, and they had to touch, had to taste each other.

The last time had been on a supply run to Helena, trying to get some of the stock they would need for the big move. Seth had gone with him under the pretense of bringing a prisoner in to the seat for trial. On their way back, they'd been alone, just them and the horses, and no one near to hear either one of them.

Seth was going slow this time, dragging his hand up under Sol's shirt to touch his belly. Sol normally liked how tactile Seth would get when he let himself indulge, and he enjoyed it now while he tried to get Seth's pants open and pushed down. Frankly, though, as Seth slowly mouthed Sol's neck, Sol decided it had been way too long to indulge in some flowery ideal of love Seth had in his head right now.

Instead, Sol pulled away, pulled a jar of axle grease out of the back of the waggon, and turned so his back was to Seth.

"Dammit, Seth, stop fucking around and get to it," Seth said, pushing his own pants down farther.

He felt the heat of Seth against his back, and moaned when he felt Seth's dick rub up and down the crease of his ass. "Anxious tonight, are we?" Seth said, and Sol could hear the smile.

"Fuck anxious," Sol said, thrusting back. "We're horny and tired of waiting."

Seth chuckled, and that made Sol smile through his lust. He smiled wider and sighed in relief when he felt the back of his shirt being lifted, and saw Seth set the jar down, reaching in for a handful of the contents.

"Glad to see we're carrying all the necessary supplies."

Sol groaned as he felt Seth's fingers breach him.

"Everything a gold miner needs," Sol agreed through his teeth, throwing back his head.

"Do a lot of this sort of thing in the streams, do they?" Seth asked before leaning down to bite Sol's neck, his fingers twisting.

"Seth, please," Sol begged as he panted, desperate to feel his partner in him.

Fortunately, Seth seemed done teasing, and soon Sol felt the familiar friction of Seth slowly easing into him.

They both settled against the side of the wagon for a minute, trying to catch their breaths, before Seth started up a slow in and out motion. The rhythm was smooth and intense, Seth breathing into his ear, his tongue licking out to whatever skin he could reach, his hands gentle on Sol's body.

"Stop treating me like a damn girl on her first hay ride," Sol growled out, thrusting back hard, trying to get Seth to speed up.

Seth laughed in his ear again. "Hay rides must be different in Ohio," he murmured, but his next thrust was harder.

On they went, Seth rocking into Sol, the both of them pushing against the back of the wagon. Sol leaned over, trying to change Seth's angle, pushing pickaxes farther away and grabbing some of the canvas pants they had closer to lie more of his front on. Seth grabbed Sol's hips harder, his fingers digging in as his hips thrust faster and faster, shoving himself as far as he could go into Sol.

Seth didn't make a lot of noise during sex, even when they were out in the middle of nowhere like this, Sol making as much as he could when they weren't in town and he was allowed. But Sol could hear Seth grunting, getting close to the end. Sol reached down for his erection only to be pushed away by Seth's hand which gripped him tightly and started up the rhythm they both knew would bring Sol off the quickest. The familiar feel of Seth's fingers rubbing across the naked crown of Sol's glans, Seth still seeming fascinated by Sol's circumcised penis even after all of these years.

Sol tried to hold back; he loved listening to Seth lose his control, give in to his passion, however briefly. However, Sol couldn't stop it any more, and came, splattering Seth's hand and the wagon in front of him.

They lay there contentedly for a minute, until Sol couldn't stand the feeling of the wagon edge biting into his stomach or Seth's whole weight pressing him further forward.

It took a few minutes of shuffling - rags grabbed to clean up, arrangement of clothes just enough so they could move around, and a quick check on the horses to make sure they weren't spooked - before they could go to their bedrolls arranged near the fire, lying close in the cool night air.

"Things'll be good in Deadwood," Seth said, his hand moving slowly through Sol's hair as he looked into the fire.

Sol loved Seth like this, as contented as he ever seemed to get before his brain kicked back in.

"I figure so," Sol said, looking at Seth.

"We'll make some money and set up. No law, no worries about what anyone else is doing," Seth continued, hand still stroking Sol.

Sol smiled into the dark, closing his eyes for sleep. He gave it six months before Seth was running the town.