Saving Grace
(Old West)

by Angelina

Author's Note: A very short, but interesting little premise, I think. This is rated NC-17 (adult content).

The saloon suffered a silent calm, the majority of the regular patrons and all of the not so regular ones had already called it day and stumbled off in a wide variety of inebriated states to their respective places of slumber. A few oily lights flickered within, the barkeep's apron casually draped over the bar, lackadaisically waiting for its wearer to return for another day of serving up dreadful potent potables and the daily gossips around these parts.

Over in the corner, so still as to be unnoticed by a simple passerby, sat a young man, shuffling cards in a eerie rhythm. Eyes so green they resembled the pure emerald gem stone, a well-defined bone structure with a full, pliant mouth that easily switched from sobriety to gleefulness in a blink of an eye. A white linen shirt, with ruffled fabric adornment, along with charcoal grey trousers that fit snugly in all the right places. His body was as breathtaking as his eyes, lean muscle but well-defined for someone who loathed manual labor. A dark green jacket was draped carelessly across the back of the chair, where he sat, the deck of cards whirring through his dexterous fingers. He dealt out a hand, glanced at his holdings as well as those of the imaginary players that joined in this one last game. He collected the cards with a flourish, smiling slightly, recognizing his ability for what it was, no more egotistically than a good gambler should. One couldn't go into his line of work without some semblance of confidence, or the game was over before it even started and you definitely wouldn't be the one collecting the pot that night.

He thought about going to bed, but the demons would come. So many things, too many unforgivable transgressions, to rest for just one night without even the slightest niggling of guilty torment. He guessed he could have taken the young lady that had propositioned him tonight up on her offer to keep him company for the evening, but his taste in those types of liaisons had dwindled to nothing in the last few months. He didn't think he could take much more degradation before he sunk so far into hell that even he wouldn't recognize himself. His mother had always hounded him about his conscience, that if he was to survive in this world, especially in his line of work, he had better lose it or it would eat him alive. How fitting that little piece of motherly advice from a woman who had spent less time with her son than the many boarding schools and distant relatives.

He stared down at the whiskey bottle, picked it up and swallowed a long pull directly from the neck. Look how far I've come, when I can't even pour myself a drink, I have to guzzle it like those heathens and criminals he was paid to protect the good citizens of Four Corners from. There's a ironic twist of fate. To protect a town who was trying to eliminate his kind from besieging their streets. Old man Travis must have been a few cards short of his deck to even think that he, the consummate con man and swindler, would be dependable for a month, much less any more permanent amount of time. But that was a year ago and he was still here. If he had to admit it, Four Corners was the closest thing to a home he had ever had in his short but miserable life.

So buried in his self-loathing, the drunken cardsharp did not notice the appearance of a visitor in his inner sanctum, despite its soiled, soulless ambiance. A delicate white hand with long slender fingers grazed his strong hand and gently uncurled his fist from around the neck of the bottle. Haunted emerald eyes met saddened aqua ones. Wisps of blond hair framing an achingly attractive, almost angelic face blew in the slight fall breeze that wafted through the doors of the saloon. That same white hand reached out to caress the stubbly cheek of the man who sat before her, passing her fingers over his lips, sucking a sharp breath of her own when he opened his mouth and gently tugged on their tips. Moving closer, he took her lovely face in both hands and lowered his full mouth to her generous one. As he delved past her lips and sparred playfully with her tongue, his hands roamed across her shoulders and down her deliciously curved body. As erotic sensations flowed through her body, she moved closer, wanting him to touch her, kiss her...just wanting him. Not since her husband's death had she wanted to be this close, this intimate with any man.

He backed away a few inches, both of them breathing heavily. His eyes asked the question, hers answered immediately and without hesitation. Even if just for one night, neither would or even could promise anything more than what was happening at this moment. He stood up and pulled her to him, flush against his rapidly tightening body. He could feel the warmth, the desire even through her staid black dress. She traced her fingers down the well-defined muscles of his back through the soft linen of his shirt, then worked her way around to the front, where she began to slowly unfasten the buttons. He slid his hands up to cover her breasts and cupped them firmly. Her nipples peaked and tightened within their confining corset. She rolled her head back as he took advantage and trailed kisses down the graceful column of her neck. She got the last button undone and pushed his shirt off his strong shoulder. He made a movement for them to adjourn upstairs to finish what they had started but she declined, reveling in the excitement of doing something so forbidden in such a public setting.

He quickly unfastened the bodice of her dress and loosened her stays to free the creamy white mounds. Nudging her breast with his face, he caught one nipple in his mouth and began to tease it with his tongue. She went weak in the knees, thinking her rubbery legs would give out any minute from his attentions. He picked her up and carried her over to the bar, which came up about waist high on him. How fortuitous. He returned to his suckling as his hands roamed under her skirts and slid up the inside of her leg until he came to the apex of her thighs. She inhaled sharply as he began to tenderly manipulate the small nubbin nestled in the thatch of hair. Waves of pleasure began to wash over her as he inserted on finger into her moist sheath. God, she was so tight.

She whimpered softly as his hands left her, for a short time, in order for him to unfasten his trousers. His turgid phallus was freed and he pulled her close to him. She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist and he slowly lowered her onto his hardened shaft. Achingly slow was the penetration. When he was fitted deep inside her, they both stared at each other for a moment that seemed like eternity. Then they began to move together, faster and more confidently with every thrust. She climaxed, an overwhelming sensation that she had never even felt with her husband. He covered her mouth roughly to prevent her from crying out. The muscles of her womanhood spasmed around his member, already tensed far beyond what he could bear. He groaned harshly as he spilled his seed deep inside her warm body.

For a moment in time, the two lovers rested against each other, reveling in the intimate feeling of synchronous pain and release. Reluctantly, he lowered her to the ground and held her to him. She laid her head on his chest, hearing the strong beat of his heart. He tenderly caressed her beautiful tumble of long, white-blond hair. She moved away and fastened up the front of her dress, straightened her skirts and headed for the door when his sexy drawl cut through the darkness and made her tremble all over.


She turned at her name, meeting those brilliant green eyes one last time. There were so many emotions she could perceive, rumbling just under the surface. He stood there, barechested, and met her gaze directly.

"What is it, Ezra?"

He stared at her steadily for a moment, a man who prided himself on being eloquent, almost verbose at times, was at a loss for words. How could he convey to her the gratitude he felt for her saving grace without sounding trite. He had always heard Occam's razor worked the best, go for the simple approach. He took in her gorgeous, heavenly beauty and said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Thank you."


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