#goldpeaking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nizzysam · 1 year

Text

No Thanks Needed

This work is a gift for @satanoceanic, one of the most active Red simpers out there. Thank you @the--end-is--nigh for the beta-reading <3

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Red Harlow/John Marston (Marlow)

Tags: Pre-Canon, Smut, Bottom John, Top Red, Brief mention of internalized homophobia Other Tags NSFT

Summary: John leaves the gang feeling like the life he was living wasn't his anymore. And that wasn't his kid. After days of riding, he finally stumbles upon a town called Goldpeaks just as a big celebration is taking place. There, he hopes to start anew. In the town's saloon, he meets a bunch of strangers. One in particular catches his attention.

Snippet: A man stood up from an empty table. Around him people tried to make it look like they were minding their business but achieved the opposite. The man left behind whispers and curious glances. Then he saw his face. Deep scars gnawed at his cheeks and one pressed his nose down, deep in his skin. John didn’t realize he was staring at the man, still on the last step. The man came closer, now facing him but not meeting his eyes.

AO3 Link - or read under the cut!

That day he muttered the truth to Hosea, eyes low on the ground as he felt the old man’s gaze on him. He wasn’t scolded as expected. There was a single sigh and nothing more.

As he raised his head to get one last glimpse of the camp, he met Abigail’s eyes. In that moment, he knew she knew. There was no fooling Abigail Roberts.

He left. The others thought he was going out scouting, looking for money, working. Something tight wrapped around his chest as he spurred his mare into a gallop.

It ain’t my life, it ain’t my kid. These thoughts deafened him, enraged him into a wild ride across valleys and rivers. Far away, as far as possible. Because fear cannot reach that far.

It had been days now. Days of silent rides and campfires and meager meals. Nothing he wasn’t used to, but it was harder this time. His only distraction was idly playing around with pebbles, collecting them and throwing them as far as he could.

Hosea told him not to let pride consume him, but Hosea didn’t understand. The weight of responsibility crushed him. He was a boy and then Abigail decided he was the father of her child. How could she know? Why was he the only one responsible for that kid?

The clashing of the pebble against the bedrock made the mare neigh, but he kept throwing and throwing. The harsh sound eased his resentment.

He slept as the wind howled and the fire crackled beside him. He would reach town the next day.

---

The stench of the livestock was piercing. There seemed to be more cows than people as he made his way through the small town. The sign read ‘Goldpeaks’.

The hills curved beautifully all around town, the light of the sun made them appear to shine in yellows and greens.

He would find a job now and get to the saloon later to wash off and drink. The money he saved would last him a few days if he was careful, and he was planning to be.

The afternoon was hot in the hill town, the mare was growing weary.

“Easy, Jill,” he patted her silver neck and guided her to a hitching post.

A chorus of high and low tones came from the saloon, singing along with the piano and interrupting the eerie silence. He reckoned he could find a job and drink at the same time.

They didn’t stop singing when he peeked inside. Everybody looked drunk and smelled of smoke and whiskey.

A few men were crowding the pianist, screeching melodies in his ear. Others were idly singing along from the tables.

“I’m looking for work,” John said as he leaned on the counter.

“Ain’t we all,” the bartender made a glass squeak under the cloth.

John turned to watch the drunk men all around him. “They surely ain’t.”

“What kinda voice is that?”, an old man with a large brown hat hiccuped in his direction.

“The kinda voice I have,” John didn’t even bother looking at him more than he already had.

“Oooh”, the man raised his hands as to fake fear. “We got another of those tough fellers, it looks like. Ain’t you too young to be sour?”

“If you ain’t offering me a job, I ain’t interested,” now John turned to look at him. The man’s cheeks glowed red from who knows how many drinks.

“Can ya herd sheep?”

“I learn fast,” John straightened his back and faced the man before offering him his hand. “Name’s John.”

The old man shook his hand vigorously. “Aaron. Got a ranch out there, somewhere. Later, huh? It’s a holiday.”

And so Aaron walked over a table, drank some more and went to another table to laugh loudly with whoever it was he was talking to. It looked like he was well known and liked. John’s jaw tightened as he watched him getting pats and smiles from everyone around.

“Are you buying?” the bartender asked.

“A beer and a bath,” John curved his back again, his elbows on the counter.

The bartender pointed at the stairs and John took his beer and slowly approached the second floor. His legs were killing him and his clothes were drenched in sweat. Luckily he had a spare shirt in his satchel.

The cold water swallowed him in one go. Energy seemed to come back to him in an instant. He sat in the tub sipping his beer for a long while. The tight feeling around his chest came back all of a sudden and he did nothing to make it better. He paid no attention to his thoughts, he got bored of them over the days of travel. Always the same anger, the same doubts, the same fears. He could no longer stand himself.

---

“About time you came out,” the bartender said as John came down the stairs with his new shirt on, a simple white everyday shirt and the same old jeans he had been wearing for too long.

Something changed during his absence. Music was still playing and people were still chattering, but something unspoken loomed over the room. His eyes went searching for Aaron and immediately found him sitting next to the pianist. That comforted him.

“Sir, your bath will be ready in a few minutes,” the bartender looked straight ahead and John followed his gaze.

A man stood up from an empty table. Around him people tried to make it look like they were minding their business but achieved the opposite. The man left behind whispers and curious glances.

Then he saw his face. Deep scars gnawed at his cheeks and one pressed his nose down, deep in his skin. John didn’t realize he was staring at the man, still on the last step. The man came closer, now facing him but not meeting his eyes.

“Didn’t know–” John began to explain how he didn’t realize someone else was waiting to use the bath as the stranger brushed his shoulder.

“Didn’t ask,” it was almost like he knew John was going to say something. He interrupted him in a low, steady tone. John barely had time to react that before the stranger was five steps ahead.

All John did was scoff and shake his head as he approached the counter.

“Another beer,” John ordered.

“Kid, don’t start anything with that man,” the bartender looked him straight in the eyes.

“What do you care?”

“I don’t want no trouble. It’s a holiday,” the man opened his arms, inviting him to look around.

“Ain’t nothing to worry about. And I ain’t no kid.”

“Whatever you say.”

John reached a hand down to his satchel and his mouth fell open when he didn’t feel it under his palm. Soon he became aware of the absence of the strap on his shoulder. The bartender looked at him like someone would look at a disgraced man.

John’s chest tightened once more, the choking feeling reaching up to his throat. That satchel kept him grounded, kept him from exploding. And now it was gone.

He stomped to the second floor and started banging on the bathroom door. “I left my things in there. Open up.”

No reply. John banged again, louder. “If you ain’t opening, I will.”

He waited and still got no reply. “Open or I swear I’ll–”

“It’s open.”

The voice came from behind him. He turned around and found himself face to face with the man. All that banging and screaming and for what? The stranger stared him down, his face was blank and hard like he’d never seen before.

They kept staring at each other as a working girl opened the bathroom door and retrieved John’s satchel. John took it and thanked her while his eyes were still lingering on the stranger’s scars.

“You wasn’t in there.”

“No.”

“I thought…”

The stranger didn’t reply. Now John felt the embarrassment reaching his face and coloring his cheeks red.

“What was you gonna do?” the stranger asked, his rough voice echoed in John’s ears.

“Get my stuff back,” John’s reply was unsteady and weak compared to the firm threats he made just seconds before.

“I see.”

“Sir, your bath will be ready in just a couple more minutes,” the girl said and disappeared in the bathroom.

The eyes of the stranger seemed to pierce through John’s every thought. Pale gray, narrow eyes chiseled on the rough face of a man who has seen it all.

And John, shorter than him, felt disarmed and stupid like a scolded kid. Somehow, he couldn’t look away. The stranger didn’t look away either.

John couldn’t bear it any longer and finally excused himself with a quick turn of the head before heading downstairs.

He paid and drank to wash away the embarrassment. How could he make it in the world all alone if he wasn’t capable of looking out for his own things? How could he be so stupid, how could he not see the man standing there as he went up the stairs?

Thoughts transformed into nasty conversations in his mind, telling him to get it together or he will wind up dead in a matter of days. And then Abigail would laugh, Hosea would be disappointed and ashamed. Another part of himself said it wasn’t true, that he could make it and he was going to prove it.

After what could have been ten minutes of blankly staring at the counter, he sighed and asked for another beer. Just one more, he promised himself.

“D’you have any rooms available?” he asked, sitting on the stool, playing with the brim of the bottle.

“Sorry kid, Harlow took it.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

The man took a seat on the stool next to him, pushing his elbow in John’s space. John decided he was going to act like a man who had seen a lot. Not everything, but a lot. He puffed his chest out and straightened himself a bit.

“So your name is Harlow,” he said and took a long sip of his beer. He wondered if anyone was going to buy his gimmick.

“Stating the obvious won’t bring you far,” Harlow said and gestured to the bartender to serve him. In no time a whiskey glass was on the counter.

John’s gaze followed his gloved hand reaching for the glass. Once again, that stranger made him look stupid. His ego was hurt and he could no longer hold his tongue.

“You must be the eccentric type if you wear gloves in summer,” he mocked him and took another sip of his beer. Holding the bottle made him feel more confident, and he could blame his flushed cheeks on the alcohol.

John almost choked on his beer when he felt a heavy hand landing on his back. He froze for a moment, but immediately relaxed when a familiar face popped between them.

“You’ve met Red! Two sour men sitting next to each other, what a sad sight. But of course you found each other, of course!” Aaron broke into an airy laugh.

John could see Harlow looking at him on the other side, not a hint of emotion on his face.

“Now you two ain’t gonna ruin this for us, you just wouldn’t have the heart. Ain’t that right?” despite what his mellow tone suggested, that was an order.

John wondered who exactly was this rancher who offered him a job and was beloved by everyone in the saloon. He knew better than to ask.

“Good fellas. Martin, give them another round of what they want. On me.”

And just like that Aaron was touring tables and requesting songs. Harlow gestured again to Martin, the bartender, and another whiskey was on the table.

“What do you want, kid?” Martin asked.

“I ain’t no kid,” John hissed.

“What does the gentleman want?” Martin corrected himself, both hands on his side of the counter.

It wasn’t the first time John felt out of place, he had been out of place his whole life. These people here, they were all making fun of him. He raised his fist on the counter and as he was about to slam it down, Harlow sighed.

“Give him whiskey.”

A whiskey glass sat near his unfinished beer and Martin went taking care of other patrons. John turned his head, both his arms now folded on the counter. His usual slouched posture gave away all of that he was trying to hide.

The man called Red Harlow wasn’t looking at him, but John knew he was being observed. He could feel it by the way the stranger moved and the way he was avoiding his eyes. Just now he noticed his worn hat casting a shadow over his sharp features, a few strands of brown hair peaking out from under it, a well-trimmed beard framing his face. And his scars.

“Why do you wear one single red glove?” John asked, hoping to return the favor by acting interested.

“None of your business. Drink.”

John reached for the whiskey and downed it in one go. His eyes never left Red’s profile.

“Why do you wear one single red glove?” John asked again, now turned on the stool to fully face the man. One arm lazily laying on the counter and the other on his leg.

Red sighed. “Guess I’m the eccentric type. Why do you leave your damn things around?”

That answer brought a smile to John’s face, maybe the first in a long while. This man was going to entertain him after all.

“Guess I’m the forgetful type,” John spat a loud laugh and shook his head. It felt good to laugh. His throat was burning from the whiskey and the beer tasted almost like water.

“Learn not to be. Folks ain’t gonna be nice if you threaten to open their bathroom doors,” Red raised one eyebrow as he brought the glass to his lips. He glanced at John out of the corner of his eye.

John’s eyebrows furrowed but he knew the man was right. “I ain’t apologized for that, did I?”

“No need,” the man just said, now looking straight ahead.

John huffed and returned to face the counter. He missed his tent and his cot, Arthur’s jokes and Hosea’s lessons. He even missed Dutch’s patronizing speeches and the sound of Tilly’s laugh.

Miserable was the correct word. He wondered, day and night, if he was doing the right thing. If that wasn’t the correct path, the road would bring him back to them, Hosea told him. He found himself nodding as he remembered the old man’s words.

“You ain’t from here, so what is your deal?” Red spoke in his monotone voice, his face now turned in John’s direction.

“Asking myself the same question,” John said. It took a while for him to realize Harlow was looking at him. When he did, surprise colored his cheeks.

Red seemed to have noticed. There was a slight twitch in his eyes. “Answer honestly.”

John had no reason to, but he felt compelled to answer. He had kept silent for days and thoughts were corroding his brain. He looked in the older man’s eyes, trying to decide how much he was willing to reveal. “The life I was living wasn’t mine. I oughta find who I am.”

“That so? Good luck.”

“Yeah, I’ll need it,” John looked almost sad the conversation died down like that. He brought the bottle to his lips again, downing the beer. His stomach grumbled loud enough for everyone around him to hear.

Red snickered and shook his head. “You oughta eat if you wanna find out who you are, kid.”

John rolled his eyes and adjusted on the stool. “Guess now that I ain’t paying for the room I can afford to eat something.”

Red stood up and adjusted his bandolier. He called the bartender over with his hand and didn’t wait long for Martin to approach. “He can use my room.”

Just like that, Red was up and gone.

John was baffled, Martin tried his best to appear unbothered. The two stared at each other for a long few seconds before the bartender reached for the second spare key and handed it to John.

He didn’t even have the time to thank the stranger. Didn’t have the time to ask why. He would have asked upon his return in the room they now shared. John found himself looking forward to it.

He ordered beef stew and ate in silence as the afternoon’s party turned into an early evening craze. Finally, he felt full and somehow calmer. All of the tiredness from the long journey caught up to him.

Before heading to the room, he went outside to check on Jill, fed her and patted her. She seemed better now that she was in the shade. He removed the saddlebag and headed to the second floor.

---

The room wasn’t much, he wasn’t expecting it to be. A big bed right in front of the door, a bedside table at each side, a floor mirror and a window to the right side.

The sight of the bed made him smile in anticipation. He undressed and wore his red union suit fresh out of the saddlebag before sinking in the middle of the bed.

He fell asleep immediately and for hours, dreaming of nothing. He woke up as the pianist played an off-key note and the crowd cheered and laughed.

What kind of holiday it was, John didn’t know, but the celebration didn’t seem to stop. Through the window he saw the moon was already high in the sky. He closed his eyes again and stretched his arms out.

Then he seemed to remember that this wasn’t his room. Quickly, he sat down and looked around him. Red wasn’t there, which was a relief but also a disappointment. Was he coming at all? The uncertainty bothered him.

He found himself looking in the mirror where his scrawny figure curved and stared back at him. Strings of hair tickled his cheeks, long enough to cover his neck and lay on his shoulders. He almost didn’t recognize himself. It had been a while since he saw his own reflection.

The floor was pleasantly cool under his feet as he stretched once more in front of the mirror, looking at how his body moved and twisted in the union suit. Another memory came, of when Arthur mocked him for how small he looked in his old shirt. Most of John’s clothes were Arthur’s old ones. Not this union suit, this he bought himself.

He sank once again in the bed, an arm covering his eyes. The past was the past, he was here now. In Red Harlow’s room.

That was a strange, tough man. Behind his rough facade was a decent fellow, one who would share his room with a runaway who threatened to knock down the bathroom door of a saloon in the middle of nowhere. John laughed to himself.

After all, Red had nothing to fear. He was strong, John could tell. Lean but solid, you could see it even through his clothes. Those piercing, questioning eyes that would stare at you long enough to make you uncomfortable yet leave you hoping for more.

His scent when they passed each other on the stairs, John could smell it as if Red was beside him at that moment. Gunpowder and leather mixed with sweat and smoke. And after a bath just the faint perfume of the soap and his own natural scent.

The way he sounded, low and rough as if he spoke those words from deep inside him. His unreadable expressions, John found himself wanting to understand. To see, to hear more.

The arm pressed on his eyes pressed more against his skull and his hand grabbed the pillow beneath him. He tried to stop his other hand from trailing down to his belly and between his thighs. This wasn’t the first time he thought of a man, but the shame burned him every time.

John slowly brushed his fingers on his erection, hoping to get the edge off like that, without having to unbutton his union suit.

His fingers traveled down some more, touching that sensitive spot just above his entrance. A spike of pleasure made him arch his back, his mouth now parted and his eyes shut under his arm.

Outside, footsteps and voices were coming and going since he first entered the room. He almost didn’t notice them now as the hand finally grabbed his clothed cock and moved slowly in a firm grip.

He lost himself in a fantasy, one in which Red was the protagonist. It wasn’t long before he started bucking against his own hand, panting and biting down his lip.

It was when the sound of something heavy hit the ground that he tripped up like a spring. Harlow’s back was all he saw, his bandolier on the ground.

John’s cheeks were bright red as he sat in the middle of the bed, his erection pushing against the thin fabric of his union suit. He couldn’t move.

His gaze darted in the mirror and got a glimpse of Harlow’s profile. His lips stayed flat, his eyes looked at nothing in particular. John watched him remove his hat and unbutton his shirt. He dared looking some more when Red’s shirt was fully open, revealing the hair on his chest. He lingered on, waiting for him to move so that he could see more through the mirror. And he did. Red moved just enough for John to see the trail of dark hair disappearing into his pants.

The room filled with the scent John remembered from earlier. He was still frozen in place, a hand behind him to support him and the other still in the air as his lifted leg covered his obvious erection.

John’s eyes moved up again in the mirror. Red was staring back at him, those narrow eyes kept him from looking anywhere else.

Did he notice? Why wasn’t he saying anything? John’s heart was racing. He stopped breathing to try and calm down, in vain. All he could do was look away. He managed to move from the bed’s center and tried to make himself small.

Red kept undressing, John could still see him out of the corner of his eye. His gaze focused again on the mirror, but he kept his head low. Red’s eyes were still fixed on John as he unbuckled his belt.

Finally, John decided it would be better if he faced the wall and forgot all about it. So he did. His gaze now moved from the bedside table to the wall and out the window. His breathing was heavy, the silence in the room interrupted by the sound of Harlow’s clothes coming off.

Red sat on the bed and John shifted and held on the mattress. Then he felt Red standing up again. Did he remove his boots? What was he doing now?

John was restless, his erection didn’t seem to die down and the curiosity was killing him. He felt forced to look away, scared of what would happen if he turned again to look at the man. He could pretend he needed to get up and go do something. After all, he wasn’t a prisoner in that room.

John slowly turned his head.

Red’s broad shoulders were all he could see. The man was staring down at him, shirtless. His belt was unfastened but his pants were still buttoned. John’s mouth was open as he looked at the man’s body, his eyes lingering on that trail of dark hair on his belly. Then Red’s thumb brushed them as his fingers pressed down the fly of his pants.

By that point his thoughts were clouded, nothing he thought made sense and when their eyes met yet again, John was already on his knees, moving towards him.

Red’s hand caught him, cupped his jaw and brought him up against him. A desperate whimper escaped John’s mouth when he felt Red’s tongue on his neck and on his ear. Red’s breath was warm and ticklish against him, sending a spike of arousal down his spine.

John pushed himself against Red’s leg, wanting him to know how hard he was. How desperate for friction he was. In response, Red brought a hand down his ass and squeezed, his own erection pressing against John’s belly.

“Was you thinking of me?” Red whispered and in one quick motion turned John around.

John’s ass pushed against Red’s erection, his back against the older man’s chest as the hand on his neck held him in place.

That question made his cock twitch. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, I was thinking of you. But his only reply was a choked moan.

Red bit his lobe, licked it and bit down again. John wanted to see his face, see how he looked when he was aroused like that. But just as he began to turn his head, Red pressed him against the mattress.

He was quick to open the flap of John’s union suit, exposing him so abruptly.

That was too much for John. He broke free of Red’s grip and turned around, facing the man above him. “Wait,” he pleaded.

Red’s heavy-lidded gaze scanned him, hungry. But he didn’t force himself on John. His belt fell on the ground and his fingers began to unbutton his pants.

Red’s cock was now hard and naked in his gloved hand. He gripped it at the base, showing John just what he was in for. And when John looked up at him, he could swear he saw a smirk on the man’s scarred face.

John never did this before, he only imagined it. Now Red’s eyes were silently requesting it. He averted his gaze.

“Never done it before?” Red asked.

John shook his head. He felt Red’s hand on his nape guiding him closer.

The tip of his cock brushed over John’s lips. It was hot and hard against him. Slowly, he opened his mouth and licked. He saw Red’s eyes narrowing and the breathy sound he made was enough to make John lick again and again.

Soon he took the tip in his mouth, trying his best not to let his teeth scratch the sensitive skin. Red was watching him, licking his lips from time to time. John knew he wanted more. He tried to relax his jaw and took more of him in. Red was big and heavy in his mouth, he felt his thickness on his tongue as he bobbed his head on him. John could feel the veins of his cock and taste his arousal.

Red began to move, slowly, as to warn him of what was about to come. He pushed further, reaching the back of John’s throat. His head lolled back at the sensation.

John was held with all his cock in his inexperienced mouth, his nose brushing against Red’s curly black hair. He pushed on the man’s thigh and turned his head to cough. Then he looked back up, Red’s hand still on his nape. He turned again and began to lick his cock from the base to the tip, hoping that was enough. Red seemed to enjoy it before he took a step back to completely remove his pants.

John looked at the lean, muscular body in front of him. He got up, pressed a hand on his chest, felt the heat and the hair brushing over his palm. In a bold move he brought a hand on Red’s nape and leaned in for a kiss.

Red simply bent his head backwards and stared at him. “No,” he said.

John blinked and had no time to say anything. Red’s hand was now unbuttoning his front flap. The thin piece of fabric fell on the ground, revealing John’s neglected cock.

Red held his ungloved hand under John’s chin. “Spit,” he ordered.

John spat after the man gave him an impatient look. And he was so glad he did when he felt that same hand gripping both of their cocks, stroking them slowly.

Red’s experienced hand lingered on their tips, making them both shiver and moan.

He couldn’t kiss him, but Red didn’t object when John began to nibble and lick his neck. Instead, Red stretched his neck to give him more to bite into.

John was reaching the peak of his pleasure, bucking into the man’s hand. He no longer cared about the sound he was making against his skin.

Red stopped and took a step back. John looked at him, mouth open and almost offended. That questioning look turned into a pleading one as Red came closer again. In his eyes, John could see what he wanted. He stepped back and fell on the mattress, but didn’t stop retreating further on the bed.

“I’ve never…” John began to say as Red climbed on the bed and positioned himself between his legs. His breath was heavy with doubt and anticipation. John didn’t know much, didn’t think much, he just knew he was scared and yet he wanted it.

Red caressed his torso and trailed down his body. There wasn’t impatience in his touch, Red avoided John’s cock for a while, caressing the sensible skin of his inner thigh until he felt John relax.

“You’re gonna be good,” he said looking straight in John’s eyes. That was reassuring, his low voice steady and calm. But John also heard a command. And he was so eager to comply.

Red pressed one finger on John’s reddened lips and in his mouth, pushing down his tongue. Meanwhile John adjusted under him, his legs open against the older man’s thighs. But Red pushed him a bit further up the bed as his saliva-slick finger traveled down between John’s legs.

There was resistance, but Red was expecting that. He teased his opening slowly, brushing the area around his hole. John was feeling so many things at once all he could do was watch him with his mouth open, perked up on his elbows. One faint moan escaped his lips when Red pushed a finger inside him.

Then Red took John’s aching cock in his hand as his finger went inside and out, allowing John to get used to the feeling.

It felt strange, foreign and unbelievably good. A few times, even incredible. Red reached that point inside him that made his pupils dilate with pleasure. If he couldn’t think straight before, now he lost every last bit of control.

He took his own cock and started stroking it, trapping Red’s hand under his own. He knew if the man looked at him, he would cum right there and then.

But Red wasn’t having it. He pushed a second finger in him and gripped John’s cock firmly enough to stop him from reaching climax. All this while their eyes were locked, which made it all but easier for John.

He would have felt ashamed and embarrassed if he wasn’t experiencing the strongest arousal of his life. All he could think about was Red’s fingers and that stretching pain slowly transforming into pleasure. John gripped the man’s hair and pushed down on his fingers with a shameful moan.

What he said afterwards began as a closed-eyed whine and became a pathetic moan as Red started scissoring his fingers in him. “Fuck me,” John kept repeating.

Red breathed an airy “Yeah,” all his arousal spilling into his voice. He changed in that moment, his eyes wide and famished. His fingers slipped out of John, immediately replaced by his tongue licking in and around him as both his hands now held him open.

John shivered and twisted at every lick, his eyes rolling from pleasure. He couldn’t hold himself up any longer, now flat on his back, moaning and biting on his fingers as one hand tried to reach for his cock. One look from Red made him stop.

With seemingly no effort, Red tugged John closer and slightly raised his ass. He spat in his opening and put two fingers inside him, fingering him faster and faster as the younger man moaned with pleasure under him. Then he pushed another finger in and John seemed to have completely abandoned himself to the sensation.

Red lifted himself above John, looking at his blissful expression; lips parted and swollen, flushed cheeks and dark eyes.

John threw his arms around his neck and lifted himself up, reaching for the kiss he so desperately wanted. All Red gave him was his neck, once again, as he turned his head at the last minute. So John bit down, hard.

In response, Red twirled his fingers up and pushed against that very spot he knew would make John weak. And it did, reducing John to a heap of pleading moans.

Then, as a punishment, Red stood up, leaving him alone on the bed. As soon as John felt his absence, he perked up fearing he would leave. But Red was still in the room, searching for something in his own satchel. It wasn’t long before he turned to face John again.

In his hand was a tin of hair pomade. Red smeared his fingers with it and was again on John, teasing his hole with the pomade outside and deep inside him. John was taking all three of his fingers with no resistance.

He slicked his own cock with pomade as John adjusted himself under him, his legs spread. Red aligned with his hole and teased him with his tip.

John’s eyes were closed with anticipation, fear and pleasure. His eyebrows were furrowed and his cock twitched against his navel.

“Look at me,” Red ordered as he stared down at him.

John’s eyes opened instantly and Red sank deep inside his tight hole. The room filled with John’s moans and Red’s grunts as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Red’s bared teeth turned into a gaping mouth when John started bucking against him, not giving himself the time to adjust to the new sensation. It drove Red out of his mind, you could see it in his face. In that moment he decided not to hold back anymore.

John got what he was asking for and took it without looking away once. Red was slamming into him slow and deep, he could feel him in his belly, pushing against that very spot he never imagined felt this good.

He could feel Red was getting more and more aroused as he increased the speed and became even harder inside him. Once again, John tried to throw his arms around Red’s neck and Red let him, but only to use it as leverage to pick him up and hold him against the wall, beside the window. There was no way to kiss him as Red’s head was buried between his neck and shoulder, making it easier to hear his moans against his skin.

John looked straight ahead of him and saw his reflection in the mirror and the broad back of the man fucking him senseless. He stared at the reflection with clouded eyes and began scratching his back. Red’s thrusts became erratic, his grunts animalistic.

Soon John found himself on the bed again, a hand pressing on the sides of his throat. It felt good, the pleasure intensified and he tried to reach for his cock. He needed to stroke it, it began to hurt for how long it was neglected.

Red allowed it with a quick nod. The older man didn’t choke his grunts anymore and his expressions were as feral as the way he was fucking the man under him.

John’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he felt he was about to reach climax. Red reacted to that immediately, pulling out and grabbing both cocks in his gloved hand.

John was the first to cum with a long moan and soon Red followed, spreading his cum all over John’s union suit. They both came profusely and in waves, twitching one on top of the other. Red continued to stroke their cocks until John’s moans began to sound like whines.

The last thing John heard that night was a heavy, tired sigh and the seemingly unstoppable celebrating sounds coming from downstairs.

---

The next morning, Red was gone. His scent was all that was left in the room. John could smell it on himself.

He folded the union suit and pushed it down the saddlebag. Dressed up and had another look in the mirror.

He tried to compose himself, dust his shirt off and slicked his hair back. Did he look like a man who had sex with another man just a few hours prior? Did people hear them? Did it even matter?

He walked downstairs with his bag, head down. The place was still trashed from the day before and Martin was behind the counter, seemingly unbothered by the mess, cleaning a glass.

“Aaron’s waiting for you by his ranch up the hill, you’ll recognize it,” he said as John approached.

“Yeah, thanks,” John didn’t even look at him as he walked towards the door.

“Where you going with that?”

John stopped, confused. “Somewhere, I guess.”

“Room’s paid for two days,” Martin said and the saloon echoed with the squeaking of the cloth against the glass.

#mdni #minors do not interact #red dead revolver #red dead redemption 2 #pre-canon #red harlow #john marston #red/john #red harlow/john marston #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #tw internalized homophobia

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