Chapter 6

Chapter Six

T he sound of a gunshot over his shoulder caused Cal to pause, hoping to see the Wraith crumble into dust from the fatal shot. Nothing happened. The Wraith turned toward the noise of the glass breaking at the saloon, and Cal's heart sank when he realized Gunner's shot had missed by merely inches.

Gunner had missed. The one shot that could end this, at the cost of West's necklace, was gone.

Scarlet was already at the window, throwing salt over the barrier as the Wraith shrieked and raced for the entrance. Cal screamed and charged, but the Wraith hissed and recoiled from the spilled salt warding it off.

Scarlet stumbled back from the window and landed on his ass, staring up with wide eyes as the Wraith's twisted, hollowed face bore its needle teeth at him in fury. Cal didn't give himself proper time to grieve over the loss of the shot and charged into the Wraith full force. He couldn't risk taking a shot at him with Scarlet near the window, so he tried tackling the thing or possibly striking it.

As soon as his body came in contact with the Wraith, an ungodly icy chill ran through the core of his bones, like he was drowning in a frozen sea. Cal passed through the Wraith like a breeze, gasping from the unnatural icy grip that formed over his body and hissing in pain as the thing ran its razor claws across his ribs.

The Wraith was no longer interested in the salt-guarded building and turned its eyeless sockets Cal's way, tasting the fresh blood on its claws. Cal's ribs stung like hell fire, his wound bleeding but seeming to want to freeze and congeal at the same time.

"Cal! Get the fuck away from it!" Gunner was screaming, but Cal had to drive the thing away from the town. If he could lure it away, he could give everyone a chance to run. The Wraith came at him, claws bared and jaw open wide to try and feed on him. Cal tried to fire his rifle, but the empty click made his gut sour. Grabbing the rifle like a bat, he swung and connected the silver-edged handle into its jaw, only making the thing more pissed off. The wound in his side stung viciously, the smell of rot pouring from the beast in front of him, making his head swim.

Go, you idiot. Run. Make it chase you!

Cal's limbs faltered as his head swam, suddenly deathly ill and weak. The blood from his wound was dripping like syrup, the color too dark to be healthy. Heat and ice flashed over his skin in rushes, his sight started to get fuzzy around the edges, and the Wraith was suddenly frighteningly close. Yells. Desperate, horribly yells were distant noises around him.

Run.

Cal, run!

Someone help him!

A piercing, sudden blast jarred his senses into working again. A gunshot, to his left, very close. The Wraith let out a horrific scream of a dying animal before falling away into white dust, catching on the wind and scattering. Cal blinked hard as sweat dripped down the center of his back and turned to face the figure standing off to the side.

Jesse was panting, holding a large hand cannon, smoke leaking from the barrel. The Wraith was dead.

"H--how?" Cal whispered, his head so fuzzy he thought perhaps he was dreaming.

"I found the bullet," Jesse said, cracking a grin. "It hit the piano in the saloon and was stuck inside."

"Huh," was all Cal managed before he blacked out.

"I know I can't stop you from following me, Cal." West threw his bag over his shoulder outside their parents' home. He wasn't in Centaur form, which was wrong for the memory, but was dressed in the clothes Cal had last seen him in: a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves that accented how silvery white his hair was when it rested against the fabric around his shoulders. He had worn that shirt the last time they had dinner together.

The last time he was home. The last time they were all together.

"You promise me you'll stay safe when you do," he was saying. Cal looked up at his older brother, who was always taller than him, larger than life. His hero.

"I will follow you. I'll be right behind you," Cal said, knowing in his bones that it was true. He had followed West only months after he left for the war, but never found him again.

"I won't wait up." West smirked.

The stab in Cal's heart hurt.

The sky wasn't that dark then. Why was it so dark?

"You're not that fast." Cal grinned back, the normal tease of Cal being able to almost catch him was something he loved throwing back in West's face. "I'll find you."

"I know you will, little brother."

I failed you .

Cal was sticky with sweat when he woke. The pale sunlight was clinging to the walls through the soft curtains that moved in the warm breeze. It felt like a pound of sand had been shoved down his throat and coated his tongue, his lips cracking from the lack of moisture. When he shifted, a dull ache throbbed in his ribs, and he glanced down to see his torso wrapped with white linen. The faint aroma of medicine and salve hung in the air, and Cal moved his heavy eyes around the room to understand where he was.

The room was small and quiet, made of pale wood with a painting of a sunset hanging on the opposite wall from his small, simple bed. Propped up on the mattress beside his legs was a set of dust boots, which Cal immediately recognized as Gunner's.

"Cal? Hey, don't move… here," Gunner whispered, moving his boots off the bed and bringing a cool, tin cup to Cal's lips with blissful, clean water. Cal gulped it down like it was the most delicious nectar he'd ever sampled and let his head fall back into the pillow once he had enough.

"Where…?" Cal whispered.

"Elliot's. That man truly works miracles, Cal. I don't know how he was able to get your fever down after that goddamn Wraith attacked you." Gunner shook his head, his face drawn and pale from not sleeping. The dark under his eyes made his green gaze look strained and tired, but he was giving Cal the smallest smile.

"The Wraith…"

"Dead, yeah. The prisoner shot it," Gunner clarified Cal's very fuzzy memory. Jesse standing with his almost golden-brown eyes watching him, pistol in hand that had blown away the death knocking on Cal's door. Had he smirked? Smiled? Cal couldn't remember if that part was true, but he wanted it to be. That man, that fucking trouble-making bastard, had swooped in and saved his ass.

"I'm so sorry, Cal," Gunner was saying, pulling Cal's attention back to him. When Cal shook his head, confused, Gunner looked down in shame. "I'm so fucking sorry I missed."

"Gunner…"

"That bullet had your necklace in it, Cal. I know what the necklace was to you," he whispered, jaw bunching. "I missed, and that damn Wraith got its claws into you."

Cal pushed himself up carefully. Gunner tried to insist he lie down, but Cal shot him a look that made him back off. Once he was sitting propped against the headboard so he could look at his friend properly, he spoke.

"Gunner. It's alright. Don't." He pointed at him before the man could argue. "Don't give me lip. I said it's fine, so it's fine. You had my back. I know you did and still do. Shit happens. I'm alright. Don't carry this around and don't you dare blame yourself for any of this."

Gunner nodded quickly, rubbing his hand over his short, black hair. He gave a little chuckle. "You actually owe that robber your neck, Cal."

"Yeah." Cal rubbed his sore ribs slightly. "Speaking of that, I have a job for you."

Back in the cell again.

Jesse had missed his chance at freedom when he saw Gunner's bullet miss the mark. Before he could think better of it, Jesse had leapt off his panicking horse to run for where the glass shattered. It had been a stupid long shot to think he'd be able to find something so small in a building so big, but what other choice had he had? It was the only thing that was going to kill the Wraith, and he'd had to find it before the disgusting apparition killed Cal.

The damn Centaur may have been the giant horse-shaped obstacle keeping him from freedom, but he didn't deserve the fate of becoming a Blight Wraith's dinner. Just the thought of Cal's brown eyes glazed over with unnatural death made Jesse's spine crawl and his chest constrict with fury. Cal's face had gone pale when he had realized the bullet had missed, and a bone-deep spur of protectiveness for the foolish lawman had sent Jesse into action.

When the holy hell had it become my job to keep that jackass safe?

A flash of Cal smirking across the table came into his mind, the way the lines around his eyes would crease a little from the small curve of his lips. How wild and proud he looked standing tall in his Centaur form. The bastard had galloped into his head and wouldn't go the hell away. That same proud, stubborn fool had been staring down a monstrosity without a chance.

Jesse had been damned if that hell spawn was going to pluck Sheriff Calhoun out of existence.

He'd flown through the door of the saloon, following the path the bullet had taken while he heard Scarlet screaming and falling away from the window. That was when he'd seen the Wraith scream and lurch, Cal's form plowing through the damn thing like a fool and the protective ward around him shattering into a silver mist. Scarlet had screamed, clutching a woman who had come to pull him onto his feet.

"He's hurt!" Scarlet had been almost fighting to get outside to him. The woman pulling him back and begging him not to go.

"Scarlet!" Jesse had yelled, pulling their attention to him. "Where did the bullet hit? We have to find the bullet, or Cal's dead!"

Scarlet had shaken his head, blinking, then swallowed and looked at the piano back by the bar. "There. I heard it hit the piano."

"It definitely did. I was close to it," the woman, apparently named Faye, had said. Jesse hadn't wasted time rushing to the massive instrument, the bullet hole hard to miss on the side. The silver had been lodged deep into the wood and he'd known it would be a mess to fire again. Jesse had looked around for something to pry it loose, sweat trickling down his back from panic as he heard more screaming and wailing outside. Faye'd passed him a knife to work the metal loose, which popped out after a couple good stabs.

"How the fuck am I going to fire this?" Jesse had cussed at the warped garble of a bullet that fell into his hand. The bartender, an old-timer with a bushy white mustache and a hard look in his one eye, had passed him a small relic of warfare past. The pistol had been a gunpowder hand cannon that would fire the bullet in a messy fashion. There would be no distance on the thing.

Jesse had known he'd have to get close.

"Godspeed, son," the man had grumbled, his voice like stepping on gravel with a heavy boot. All eyes had been on him, worried and pleading.

When the fuck had he become a hero?

I should be miles away by now... he had thought in that moment.

Yet, despite that, his feet had carried him outside with all the confidence of a newborn calf. His aim shaky at best and his lungs failing to pull in enough air, he'd marched up to the spirit about to finish off the bleeding, dying Cal.

And fired.

When the Wraith fell away and it was just the two of them, Cal had scared him with how pale and unsteady he was, but his dark brown eyes found his and held him in place. Something had passed over them so softly Jesse almost hadn't caught it.

And now that was all he could think about. Even if he was stuffed back into that goddamn cell again. The town had thanked him for saving Cal's life, but that didn't make him immune to the judgment of the court. Mack had said he would try and get some leniency for Jesse, for saving Cal and all, but Jesse wasn't particularly hopeful. The higher channels of government weren't going to give much of a shit about a member of the Iron Bandits who had stolen and "killed" saving one small-town sheriff's nice ass.

"God's fist, what the hell are you doing out of bed, Cal?" Mack barked, jumping to his feet so quickly the chair he was in crashed to the floor. Jesse shot up from his cot, his mouth hanging open at the sight of Cal on two feet.

"Good to see you too, Mack," Cal huffed, moving a little slowly, but at least his color was right again. The big man had lost so much wrong-colored blood, and his wounds had looked so incredibly angry and horrible Jesse hadn't been sure if he was going to see the man again. The men had seemed optimistic about their doctor's skill set, but Jesse wasn't convinced anyone was that good. Yet there he stood. Alive. Breathing and talking.

And Jesse's heart fucking soared.

"You need to be in bed, Cal. I'm serious." Mack scowled, hands on his hips. "You scared the shit out of us."

"I know. I'm not staying long." Cal made his way to the bars, his walk slow but surprisingly steady. Jesse moved to the bars too, laughing in disbelief at seeing Cal stable and awake.

"Are all Centaurs this hard to kill, or is it just you?" Jesse teased with a smirk.

"Just me. Remember that," Cal warned with a little curve to his lips. "I came to thank you."

Jesse shrugged like it was just the most casual thing in the world to stand up to a Wraith and shoot it in the face. "Guess you'll have to think of a way to repay me. I have some suggestions if you're looking for ideas."

"You know I can't let you go, or I would have," Cal said, sounding like he actually felt bad about it. "But I'll do whatever I can to make it right. You saved my life."

"How about some whiskey and my last bet I won then, huh?" Jesse winked. "I think we can start with that."

Cal chuckled, the warm, deep sound sending a flush of heat through Jesse's chest.

"I'll see what I can do. Until then, I'm going to rest."

"Sounds good, Sheriff." Jesse leaned on the bars. "I'll be here when you get back, probably. "

Cal snorted, turning back toward Mack and clapping the man on the shoulder. "Make sure he gets his whiskey."

"Sure, boss. Now go rest before I put my boot up your ass," Mack scolded, arms crossed like a disappointed father. Cal waved him away and left, holding his ribs slightly as he did.

Even though Mack was pissy about it, Cal said he was taking over night shift again after another full day and night of resting.

Cal seemed to be doing a lot better, moving a little more comfortably, though Jesse could tell his ribs were still sore. Mack had held up his end of the bargain and gotten Jesse some cheap whiskey and a glass from the saloon, which Jesse drank the previous night. He'd also been permitted a bath, with soap, and a new blanket.

It was almost like he wasn't a prisoner rotting in a cell.

Almost.

Now that he had Cal back to play cards, he felt like celebrating.

"I dunno if whiskey is really good for you in your condition, Sheriff, but you're welcome to some." Jesse waved the bottle a little from his bed.

"I'll pass," Cal grumbled. "Doctor's orders."

"Well, normally I'd say he's a quack for denying you god's perfect drink, but the magic he pulled out of his ass to save you was damn impressive. Hey, actually… was it magic? Because that wound…" Jesse shook his head. "I really thought you were a dead man."

"No magic. Elliot is just… good. Damn good. He makes his own salves and concoctions, knows how to draw out poisons and curses. I've seen him work before. I'm not surprised he could pull me back from the brink like he did."

Jesse gave a whistle. "That he did." He held up his glass in a toast to the doctor and took a drink, setting it down on their poker table Cal had dragged into place. "So, Sheriff."

"Hm? "

"About my wager that's owed to me." Jesse let the warm liquid in his belly relax his limbs and tongue a little. "How are we gonna… settle that, exactly?"

"I got that taken care of." Cal was shuffling the cards, his posture a little slouched, his knees apart. Jesse raked his eyes over the man's thighs and up across his chest before sweeping to his face.

"That so," he whispered, grinning as Cal's dark eyes watched him openly painting him with his gaze. "How are you going to give me what I want, Sheriff?"

Cal slowly stopped messing with the cards, his gaze darting for a split second to Jesse's mouth.

There it is.

The hand Jesse had resting on his thigh slowly traveled up as he spoke to Cal, never breaking eye contact as he cupped himself through the fabric of his pants and gave himself a little squeeze. "You know what I want, Sheriff?"

Cal's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw ticking, and his eyes glued to Jesse's devious hand. Not only was he playing this man like a fiddle, but he was sure as hell enjoying the tune. There was something fantastic about seeing the lust darken the big Centaur's eyes as the inner struggle for control battled behind them. Jesse's pulse hitched when Cal forced his eyes back to Jesse's.

The air around them changed, grew tense, and time seemed to still as Jesse inched closer to the bars and let his tongue travel over his lips invitingly. He wanted to see the moment Cal lost his control because he knew it was getting damn close. The man was wavering on a tightrope, and Jesse was the roaring sea under him.

Cal's chest was rising and falling in deep, slow breaths, his pupils blown wide, and his jaw shifting as he ground his teeth in an attempt to stay seated, but Jesse wasn't having it. If Cal needed more pushing, he could do that .

He could so fucking do that.

With one hand between his legs and the other now traveling up the bars to slowly wrap around, Jesse shifted his hips to display the shameful act of rubbing himself through the fabric. His teeth bit down on his lip slightly as he fluttered his eyes shut and let out a small moan of delight at the sensation of his cock starting to swell from his touch. Taking a full breath before opening his eyes again to lock with the Centaur's, Jesse panted out in a husky voice what he wanted.

"Fuck me, Cal."

The sheriff was on his feet, his chair sliding back on the floor loudly and his breathing heaving from his chest, just as the door behind him swung open.

"Evening, gentlemen," Scarlet sang, breaking the sexual spell he had so carefully wrapped around the lawman.

Cal stared Jesse down, clearly steadying his pulse and mind before turning toward Scarlet and finally acknowledging him. Jesse moved his hand away from his now full dick but shifted to keep it from being too terribly obvious from where he sat. He had been so close.

So. Fucking. Close.

"Thanks for taking the time, Scarlet," Cal was saying, his voice a little strained as he rubbed a hand over his face in frustration.

"Of course, Sheriff. I would never deny anything you requested of me," Scarlet flirted, putting a gloved hand on Cal's arm sweetly. Dressed in a proper evening dress, in shades of deep emerald that made his pretty red hair stand out nicely, Scarlet had all the grace and elegance of a woman who knew how to wield her beauty.

Cal grabbed his keys and walked to the bars, glancing at Jesse with dark eyes before unlocking the door and letting Scarlet step through.

"I have to lock you inside," Cal was telling Scarlet, who nodded .

"I figured as much. I kinda like it though..." He grinned, glancing around the cell. "I've never done it in a cell before."

So this is what Cal had meant when he said he had "handled" Jesse's request. A ripple of disappointment waved through Jesse, but he got to his feet and smiled at Scarlet. He was thankful his erection had gone down enough not to present itself to the men in the room, though one of them had been the source of it.

"Good to see you again, Scarlet." Jesse took his hand and kissed it.

"God, you're fucking charming. We're going to have fun." He grinned wickedly and turned toward Cal, shooing him away with his free hand. "Now go, unless you want to watch. Or join."

Cal glanced over at Jesse for half a heartbeat before locking the door and striding for the front.

"You have an hour," he called over his shoulder, not looking back as he slammed the front door behind him.

"Wow, he's in a mood." Scarlet scowled, then sidled up close to Jesse, putting both hands on his chest. "Oh, well. Let's have fun tonight, my Wraith-killing hero."

"I'm no hero. Villain, remember?" Jesse motioned to the cell with a twirl of his finger.

"You killed that Wraith and saved our lives, especially our grumpy sheriff. That's a hero to me." He smoothed his hands down Jesse's pecs and bit his lip softly, mapping Jesse's face with his different colored eyes. This close, Jesse could smell the flowery perfume and soap that clung to him. His breath smelled like a shot of whiskey, which made him crave a drink himself. His nerves were raw from teasing Cal, and the man's wild look when he finally lost his control was looping in his head.

How would it have felt to have the big Centaur march into the cell, force him against the bars, and ravish him like his eyes had been promising? Strong hands grabbing his shoulders as those firm hips pistoned into him like a machine, heavy breath crashing onto his neck possessively …

The imagery was making his dick wake back up again.

"What's your type, Jesse?" Scarlet was asking, watching his face as Jesse daydreamed about getting fucked.

"My type?" Jesse repeated, not sure if he'd heard him right.

"Mm-hm," he hummed, snaking his hand down to Jesse's abs to feel how firm he was. "Of men. If you like them more feminine and slight, well, then I'm good if you are. But I have a feeling that's not what you're craving," he said knowingly.

Jesse chuckled. "I'm that obvious?"

"Honey, everyone is that obvious around Cal. That man is sex on legs." He winked. "Two and four."

Jesse laughed and gave a shrug as Scarlet stepped around him, sliding his hand around his waist as he did. "You like them big? Muscly? Strong?"

"You could say that." Jesse followed Scarlet over his shoulder, watching as the man was calmly unbuttoning his corset, circling around him as he did.

"Hm, I would say that." Scarlet tossed his gloves aside with the corset, just the dress fabric covering his torso now. "Big shoulders, broad chest, a little bit of hair in just the right places. A real man's man. Tell me, Jesse. How would you have him?"

Scarlet had moved back to his front, watching Jesse's face as he brought his daydream back up in his mind.

"Him pressing me against the bars, fucking me like there was no tomorrow," Jesse whispered, Scarlet humming in approval as he slipped the dress from his smaller frame to land in a pretty heap around his now bare feet. Under the dress, he wore scandalous silk panties that barely concealed his cock, which was hardening and impressive, and a garter belt that kept his black stockings up around his thighs.

"Rough? Passionate? Maybe just a little bit of..." He nipped at Jesse's lower lip and whispered, "Teeth?"

That image sent a shiver through him, and Scarlet snickered, amused. "Close your eyes," he whispered. Jesse did, shutting his eyes and letting his imagination run wild. He could dream in such detail how Cal would feel looming over him, just a little taller than he was, the way his big hand would feel on the back of his neck, the scrape of his stubble against his cheek.

"You want me to fuck you, Jesse?" Cal's voice whispered in his ear, hot breath against the shell, causing Jesse to let out the shaky breath he was holding at the intense contact. Cal's big body was in front of him, his cheek against his as he licked the lobe of the ear his breath had been heating, his big hand on the back of his neck.

"Fuck yes," Jesse whispered, his hands touching the hot skin of his firm chest. Cal growled and backed him against the bars, caging him in as he moved his lips around to skim across Jesse's jaw. He ghosted his lips across Jesse's but didn't kiss him, moving his nose against his before opening his eyes.

His blue and brown eyes.

"You're a mimic," Jesse whispered, gazing into Scarlet's eyes in Cal's big, wonderful body. Cal grinned, a devious Scarlet grin.

"That's right." As Jesse watched the wrong colored eyes carefully, Scarlet sighed and added, "I know. I can't shift the eyes. It's a charming flaw."

"I think it's pretty," Jesse added, smiling as Scarlet rolled his eyes.

"I'm no Della Deva, but I think I do pretty good."

"Who's Della Deva?" Jesse made the mistake of asking.

Scarlet snorted and looked properly offended, which was hysterical on Cal's typically stoic face.

"Only the most popular, beautiful, and talented mimic actress there is! Who's Della Deva? God, you poor, uncultured man." He took a breath and cocked his head to the side, still caging Jesse in with Cal's big form. "I guess I'll forgive you."

"You have his voice down, too. You get to practice this a lot?"

"He's a very popular request," Scarlet purred, causing Jesse to bark a laugh .

"I bet he is. Guess I'm not original then."

"Sorry, love. Everyone loves a big man with a badge. And I mean big." Scarlet pressed his Cal-sized body against Jesse's hips, causing him to hiss happily.

"Firsthand knowledge?" Jesse asked, curious about how accurate this form was.

"Sadly, no. The man's a prude. I've never seen him with anyone. Married to the job or some bullshit. So this is going to be as good as it gets." He grinned, skimming his lips over Jesse's jaw again. "How dirty do you want your sheriff tonight, Jesse? You want me to order you to suck my big Centaur cock?"

Jesse shivered and let his head drop against the bar behind him. God, he loved the way Cal's voice sounded when he said that, even though there was a whisper constantly telling him it wasn't actually Cal. He still smelled like Scarlet, of floral perfume without any of the musky, manly scent he knew the real Cal would smell like. Jesse wanted to bury his face against his chest and inhale, taste the salt and heat but knew this imitation would leave him disappointed in that realm.

If he shut his eyes and let his body feel, maybe he'd enjoy this little romp through his fantasies, since he was sure Cal wasn't going to allow him to test the waters again.

Damn. I had been so close.

Cal was trying desperately not to concentrate on his blood screaming for Jesse. His heart was still pounding from earlier, his brain a storm of conflict he didn't know how to handle. Nothing about this situation was logical or right, yet the only thing on his mind was to storm back inside, throw Scarlet out of there, and take what Jesse had offered.

"Gods, what is wrong with me," he hissed at himself, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight back the brewing headache. The man had saved his life and helped bring Cal back from the brink of death. He laughed bitterly as he swept away the thought that maybe that's why he was so goddamn conflicted.

You were eye-fucking him long before that point, Calhoun.

Had Jesse offered to let Cal bend him over the table the moment they brought him in from the botched robbery, Cal would have done so in a heartbeat. Jesse had annoyed him with his attitude and the unapologetic way he was trying to constantly charm his way out of trouble. Cal hated that the man chose such a damn stupid way to help his brother. Now he was facing the gallows, and Cal wasn't sure he'd be able to convince the powers that be that Jesse was worth not using as an example. The Iron Bandits had made them all look stupid for long enough to properly piss off very important people.

So they wanted blood.

Jesse's blood.

Jesse, the grinning, charming man with tan skin and dirty blond hair. Miles of long legs and muscle, of wit and sly intentions, and that fucking voice.

"Fuck me, Cal."

The sound of laughter inside the jailhouse caught his attention, causing him to turn his head slightly to listen. The sound was familiar, and just as he was about to dismiss it at Jesse enjoying himself, he heard it again, but it wasn't Jesse's laugh.

It was his .

"Goddamnit," Cal hissed, rage boiling in his gut as he turned and practically kicked the door open and stormed inside. Sure enough, Jesse was caged in by an eerily perfect mirror image of himself with the wrong colored eyes, wearing silk panties and a garter belt.

"Scarlet, goddamnit!" Cal boomed, stalking over to the bars and pointed a finger. "We talked about this!"

"What?" Scarlet as Cal blinked innocently before licking a line up Jesse's neck and nipped his ear. "I was just giving him what he asked for."

The action, while meant to be playful and sensual, sent a spike of red-hot jealousy through Cal so sharp it made him curl his fists.

"Change back right now," he growled.

Scarlet sighed and pushed off the bars, putting his hands on his hips.

"You know I don't like it when people look—"

"NOW," Cal yelled, causing Scarlet to jump slightly and put his palms up in surrender.

"God, okay," he whispered, shifting back to his normal form, which was in fact a little strange to watch. "We were just having fun, Cal."

"Get out." Cal unlocked the cell. "You're done here."

Scarlet pulled his dress back on with quick ease, tossing his corset over his arm.

"It's been fun." He winked at Jesse, sashaying out of the jailhouse with his head high and a smirk on his lips.

Jesse was still pressed against the bars, panting, aroused, cheeks flushed from the teasing Scarlet had done to him. The sight had Cal's blood running hot, his heart pounding in his chest, and he was on Jesse too fast for his brain to catch up with his actions. Grabbing Jesse by the arm, he swung him around so his chest was against the bars, Cal pressed up against his ass and back to hold him in place.

"This what you want?" Cal hissed into his ear, Jesse gasping and nodding quickly. But that wasn't good enough for Cal. He pressed his obvious ridge against the seat of Jesse's pants and ground out, "Answer me."

"Yes, fuck yes, I want it," Jesse panted. "I fucking want it."

"Hands on the bars," Cal demanded, Jesse complying immediately, grabbing the bars in front of him as Cal reached around and started unfastening Jesse's belt. The shuttering gasp that left Jesse's lips as Cal pushed into his pants and took hold of the velvety, iron cock within went right to Cal's balls. With a squeeze and a flick of his thumb across Jesse's slit, the man was practically already humping Cal's fist. Slippery, warm precum was slicking Cal's grip as he stroked Jesse slowly, breathing in with his mouth close to Jesse's hair.

The deep, spicy scent of Jesse's musk mixed with the salt of his sweat, making Cal's mouth water at the faint hint of what the man must taste like. Curling flames of desire churned in his gut as he worked his fist up and down Jesse's cock, drinking in the delicious sounds of the desperate noises he was working free from his prisoner. Cal's own neglected dick was throbbing for attention, but all his focus was on getting Jesse over the edge and begging for more.

Cal let out a hiss of approval as Jesse pushed his ass against him in an open invitation, causing Cal to move forward and grind his hips against him as he twisted his fist around Jesse's swollen head.

"Goddamn, Cal," Jesse breathed. "Hurry up and fuck me, or I'm going to come."

The way Jesse said his name in his husky, lustful tone had Cal's head swimming. Easing his grip, he moved his lips up the skin of Jesse's neck and inhaled slowly.

"You're not in charge here," Cal whispered against his hairline, grinning as the man shivered. "And I want to watch you come on the bars."

"Oh hell, you actually do talk dirty." Jesse pushed his erect cock through Cal's fingers slowly.

"What do you mean actually talk dirty?" Cal growled, slowing his pace and making Jesse push back against him pleadingly.

"Oh, god, please, please don't stop," Jesse begged.

"You like Scarlet's version of me better?" Cal was doing nothing to stomp out the jealousy fueling him, growling his accusation like he was a jilted lover, the question dangerously intimate, but he no longer cared. He was drunk on Jesse's smell, his breathing, his firm body pushing against both his dick and his hand.

"No." Jesse reached back behind his head, grabbing a fistful of Cal's hair to hold him in place as he turned his face toward Cal's cheek and breathed, "He didn't smell right. He didn't smell like the man I know you are."

Cal groaned and let Jesse drink in his smell, the skin contact against his stubble firing off the need to press all of himself against the man in front of him. He wanted every inch of his skin touching Jesse's, wanted to taste him, feel him, know him. The lust rolling through him in waves started to swirl with the deep-rooted loneliness that had weaved around him for so long, warming him in ways he forgot he knew. This connection, this intimate, wonderful connection, was threatening to swallow him whole.

Tightening his grip again, Cal almost melted at the sound of Jesse whimpering against his cheek, his hips rolling into his fist as he started working him again. Jesse was pressed back against his chest now, one hand gripping Cal's hair in pleasure, the other tightening around a bar of the cell as he bucked his hips in time with Cal's hand.

As Jesse's movements became more frantic, his breath crashing into Cal's neck with whispered pleas, Cal found himself totally consumed and lost in the moment with the man he had no business being tangled up with. He craved to see Jesse topple over the edge, to hear him cry out in pleasure, to feel his release pump through his cock until he was spent. Heat poured from the man's skin, scorching him where his back was pressed against Cal's front, his fingers digging into his scalp.

Just as he felt Jesse climbing to the peak, he ran his tongue up his jaw to his ear and bit down on the lobe.

"Come for me, Jesse," he demanded through his teeth, so overcome with how fucking delicious his skin had tasted that he almost came himself.

Jesse did as he was ordered, coming with a shout directed at the ceiling as thick, white ropes clashed into the metal and shot past onto their poker table and the floor. Cal allowed himself to enjoy the moments of Jesse melting against him, the feeling of his face pressed into the side of his neck, the smile playing on his lips, before finally forcing himself to pull away. Jesse was tugging his pants up more as he turned toward Cal, his eyes hooded in bliss, his cheeks the most fantastic flush of pink.

Before he had a chance to do anything else incredibly stupid, Cal turned, grabbed Jesse's whiskey bottle, and walked out of the cell, locking the door behind him.