Stealing West (8 page)

“'Course, if you want to throw in some grub with those drinks...” Leon said as they climbed the steps to the hotel.

“No.” Thomas held the door open and guided Leon inside the warm building. He kept his hand on Leon's back as they crossed the lobby and into the attached dining room. “You ruined your chance at grub this morning.”

“I thought we got that squared.”

“No. I have the feeling you don't need another reward for that stunt you pulled.”

Leon scowled as he straddled a stool at the end of the bar. “Wasn't the only one who got rewarded for that, you know. You seemed to get your fair share, too.”

The bartender came down to their end, and his gaze seemed to linger on Leon's visible bruises. Thomas wasn't surprised. It looked like somebody had done quite a number on him. The difference was, when the bartender looked at Leon, he seemed vaguely disturbed. When Thomas looked at Leon, he got hard.

“Two whiskeys.” As soon as the bartender turned away, Thomas tilted his head and lowered his voice. “We both probably would have had our fair share even if you hadn't tried to run.”

He wasn't sure anyone else would've noticed the flare of Leon's nostrils. “You're the one who said he'd be just as happy with a bag of money.” He matched Thomas's tone, but when he shifted slightly on his stool, his knee pressed lightly against Thomas's thigh. Nobody else would even notice it. Or think it meant anything.

Thomas suspected differently.

“I still want that bag of money.” Thomas allowed the contact to continue. God knew it would end soon enough anyway. “You did what you thought you had to do, no doubt. I do what I have to do.”

“Or what you like.” The bartender slid their drinks in front of them, and Leon picked up his glass. “I can't say I don't respect that.” A sly twinkle appeared in his eye. “Or appreciate it.”

Thomas actually believed Leon did appreciate it—he wouldn't respond the way he did if he didn't appreciate what Thomas did to him. Maybe that's why they were lingering over shots of whiskey. If Leon didn't want it—didn't look so comfortable bearing those marks—would they still be sitting there? No, Thomas didn't believe so.

The whiskey was strong enough to burn his throat and make the back of his eyes tingle. He gestured for another round and turned to Leon when a single word caught his attention.
Phoenix
.

Narrowing his eyes, Thomas surveyed the thin crowd, trying to find the source. It might not have meant anything, but he was the best because he paid attention to the details that might be nothing. Two men behind them, at the table in the corner. Their heads almost touching. They could have been lawmen, or they could have been bounty hunters, or they could have been part of Phoenix's gang.

“He's going to San Francisco before heading to Mexico.”

“What's in San Francisco?”

“A girl, from what I heard.”

One of them swore under his breath. “Him and his whores.”

“Not this one.”

“Right. Pull the other one now.”

“No, this one's different. A singer.”

“Yeah. A whore.”

“Don't let him hear you say that. He gets funny about this one.”

His buddy snorted. “Like I'm afraid.”

“Idiot. I heard he skinned the last one who badmouthed her. Right in front of her.”

“In front of her? She must be as sick as he is.”

“Nah. She's blind. Didn't see a thing.”

Leon had tensed as soon as Thomas had shifted away, and now his head tilted in the same direction, listening. When mention of the singer came up, though, he downed the rest of his second whiskey and pushed his glass away.

“I need to take a piss,” he said. He deliberately met Thomas's eyes, unblinking. “You're going to want to come with me, right?”

Thomas pulled his gaze away from Leon and looked back to the two men. Not lawmen. Not bounty hunters. If he let the two of them out of his sight, he could miss out on important information. But at the same time, he didn't want to breathe down their necks and tip his hand. Was Phoenix going by train or horse? Did he have any hideouts on the way? Thomas needed answers, but he knew he wouldn't get them there.

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

Leon slid off the stool and sauntered out without giving a glance at the pair. Thomas followed, but neither said a word until they walked around the corner of the hotel for the outhouse in the rear.

“That's who you were looking for, right?” Leon stopped and faced him. “Phoenix?”

“Yes. He's wanted for just about every crime you can think of, and probably a few you can't. Been looking for him for awhile.”

“I know the singer they're talking about. The one they say he's going to see.”

Thomas took his arm. “Who is she?”

Leon's eyes narrowed. “You think I'm just going to give that kind of information over? It's worth something.”

Thomas knew exactly what that information was worth to Leon. And it wasn't even a point Thomas cared to debate. Phoenix had a ten thousand dollar bounty on his head.

“Come with me to San Francisco and help me find him. If we find him, I'll give you five hundred in gold and send you on your way. If you're lying to me, I'll turn you in. Take the deal, or I'll march you down to the sheriff's office right now.”

Leon searched his face for several seconds before nodding. “Deal.” He held out his hand, waiting for Thomas to take it. After they'd shook, he grinned. “Though I would've done it without the five hundred.”

Thomas put his palm flat against Leon's chest and pushed until his back met the hotel wall. “I offered the money because I'm a fair man, but if you're not playing me straight, you're going to regret it.”

For once, Leon looked surprisingly serious. “I don't play around with my freedom. Neither one of us is going to regret this deal.”

Thomas nodded. “I guess you can get that grub now. We'll stay here tonight, get rested up, get a horse for you. We'll leave at dawn and ride hard.”

Leon caught his wrist, his fingertips massaging Thomas's pulse. “We can always get the grub and take it back to our room.” He paused. “It is going to be one room, right?”

His balls began to ache at the question, and he managed a half-smile. “Don't assume I plan to let you out of my sight.” His fingers curled against Leon's chest, pushing nails into flesh. “Even for a second.”

* * * *

When they returned to the dining room, the men were gone. Thomas paid for a room, then handed over an extra five dollars to have a bath waiting for them upstairs. He also arranged to have Max stabled at the livery, and to have a second horse ready for him in the morning. By the time they finished their dinner and made it upstairs, a large tub full of hot water, several clean towels, and a bar of soap waited for them in the middle of their small room.

Thomas ushered Leon inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Steam rose from the tub, and Thomas's muscles cried out for the soothing water. But that wasn't why he ordered the bath to be set up. Thomas had a more pressing matter in mind as he unbuckled his belt.

“Get undressed.”

Leon glanced at him quizzically, but obeyed without fail. He sat on the edge of the bed to tug off his boots, tossing them carelessly to the side, followed quickly by his socks. It was the first real chance Thomas had to see the gimpy ankle, the crooked little toe, the odd angle of some of the bones. It was a wonder he ever got his boots actually on, but Leon didn't flinch under the inspection. He just continued to strip until his clothes rested in a heap on the floor.

The front of his thighs and the angular lines of his hips were scratched and raw, evidence of their fucking that morning. Leon's hard cock angled upward toward his flat stomach, but when he noticed the focus of Thomas's attention, he grinned and deliberately skimmed his fingers over the marks.

Thomas's mouth ran dry. He had intended to order Leon into the tub, but for the moment, he couldn't speak. The scrapes and cuts on his thighs were a sharp contrast to his pale skin, an even sharper contrast to the bruises on his throat. He had never treated anybody like that before—had never really wanted to. He didn't know what to make of the fact that he enjoyed the visual evidence of his own cruelty, or the fact that Leon enjoyed flaunting it and drawing his attention.

But it wasn't just the marks. Thomas had imagined Leon's body several times, based on the glimpses of bare skin he had seen, and the feel of Leon's frame pressed against his. Though he had correctly imagined the general shape and form of his figure, he had failed on the specifics. More than that, he had failed to prepare for the sight of Leon's naked body, bare flesh waiting to be touched again.

“Get in the tub.”

As soon as he stepped into the hot water, Leon groaned, a sound that went straight to Thomas's cock. “I haven't had a real bath in months.” He disappeared for a moment, submerging himself completely to wet his head. When he popped back up, water ran down his face and in delectable trails over his neck and chest. “I'm just going to bunk in here, I think. You can have the bed.”

“I expect you'll change your mind once that water gets cold.”

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off, then pushed his pants down to the floor. His shirt followed. Even if he didn't change his mind, Thomas had no intention of letting Leon sleep anywhere except on the bed. And he wasn't above using the rope to keep Leon on the bed until he was good and finished with him—though he was certain Leon wouldn't try to go anywhere.

He pulled a short stool over to the tub. The water was still clear, and Leon's cock looked even more appealing than it had before. He plunged his hand beneath the still surface and fisted the thick length.

“I thought we could have a talk.”

Leon arched up into his touch, his lashes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back. It exposed his neck even more. “I like this kind of talk. Talk harder.”

Thomas flexed his fingers, increasing the pressure around Leon's shaft. “
Sir
. I expect a certain level of respect from you from now on.”

That drew his attention. Leon leveled a frown at him. “What're you talking about? I already told you I respect you.”

“I know. But now I want you to demonstrate it.”

He looked pointedly at the hand curled around his erection. “And letting you lead me around by my prick doesn't do that?”

Thomas released him and flicked the drops of water from his fingers. “That door will lock from the outside. I could leave you in here to think about it.”

The amused behavior vanished. The eyes Leon fixed on him weren't mocking or sly; they seemed genuinely confused by Thomas's threat, his youth shining through. His attitude often made him seem older, often enough for Thomas to forget he wasn't even twenty-five yet. Thomas sat back patiently, waiting for Leon to either make the connection, or drive Thomas out of the room to follow through on his promise.

He hoped for the former.

He saw the instant Leon understood what Thomas had been aiming for. His brows unknotted, and he licked his lips.

“When is it you want me to demonstrate it?” Leon paused for only a moment before adding, “Sir.”

“From now on. Whenever you talk to me.” Thomas's words were even, despite the way his throat clenched. He wanted to at least appear distant, like he was just a little bit above all of this, but he doubted he was capable of pretending that Leon wasn't having a very powerful effect on him for very long. “Understand?”

Heat reddened Leon's skin, creeping upward to his ears. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Thomas reached for one of the clean washrags and swirled it in the water between Leon's thighs. He created a good froth with the bar of soap, and then gently pushed Leon's head back, exposing his throat. His touch was gentle, but he let the rough material scrape across the sensitive bruises, applying just enough pressure to make Leon twitch.

As Thomas moved the rag downward, Leon closed his eyes. His hands gripped the side of the tub, staying well out of the way, but every time Thomas added a little more pressure, his cock jumped beneath the water and a soft moan escaped his lips. More than once, he swiped his tongue across them, and the way they glistened in the seconds afterward made Thomas yearn to know how they tasted.

Leon never said a word until Thomas grasped his hard length, pulled the foreskin back, and exposed the scratched tip. Then he hissed when the rag went over it, swearing under his breath.

“I've never wanted it like we've been doing it, sir,” he said, his voice ragged. He didn't open his eyes. “In fact, I've never let a guy have my ass more than once before. I never thought it was what I wanted.”

Thomas rested his brow against his arm, his breath caught in his throat, grateful Leon still had his eyes closed. He continued dragging the cloth up and down Leon's length, washing him, caressing him, teasing the sensitive, raw skin.

“I've never...”

Thomas bit the side of his mouth, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He had done so much with Leon he had never considered with another person, including the thorough cleansing of his body. He skimmed his fingers over Leon's bushy, rough beard. It needed to be cleaned, too, except ... he wanted to feel Leon's smooth cheek against his thighs and along his erection.

“I'm going to shave you.”

Leon simply nodded. It was a little disconcerting having him so obedient, and though Thomas missed some of the smart remarks, this subdued version left him just as hard, because he knew Leon was doing it as evidence of yielding to his command. It was better this way right now, too. He didn't need distractions while he had a straight razor at the man's throat.

Thomas repositioned his stool so he sat behind Leon's head. He ignored the brush in favor of working the soap into the beard with his fingers, massaging the bruised skin until Leon's skin vibrated from his constant moans. Without the beard, the blooming colors would be even more vivid. No hiding them away.

And yet, Leon had acquiesced to this request, too. Without a single argument.

Thomas was no barber, and he didn't have much experience shaving other men, but his hand remained steady as he brought the razor to Leon's jawline. His mouth watered more with each patch of skin he revealed. Leon remained perfectly still, his throat exposed, his posture relaxed. Despite the rapid fluttering of his pulse, he seemed perfectly at ease. Like it wouldn't even occur to him that Thomas would hurt him—which was fine, because Thomas didn't want to hurt him.