
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/803548.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Wild_Wild_West_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Artemus_Gordon/James_West
  Character:
      Artemus_Gordon, James_West
  Additional Tags:
      Merry_Month_of_Masturbation_Challenge, Masturbation, Corsetry, Chaps,
      Prostitution, Underage_Sex
  Collections:
      Merry_Month_of_Masturbation_2013
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-14 Words: 1476
****** Stoney End ******
by karaokegal
Summary
     Corset, chaps and a rain-storm.
Notes
     Notes: Written for MMOM Day 4. Prompt from khylara and vanillafluffy.
     Unbeta'd. Comments and concrit welcome.
The Wanderer wasn’t going anywhere and neither were Jim and Artie.
Torrential rain was pouring down on the entire Sacramento Valley, threatening
to flood the banks of the American River for the fourth time that year and
thunderclaps kept booming around the station from which they’d been planning to
depart that evening.
Artie watched as Jim filled the time making sure each gun was oiled and in
working order and that each throwing knife was sharpened to its most lethal
capacity. Meanwhile Artie took a complete inventory of his disguises and the
various accoutrements that went with them. Frayed collars were mended, boots
were polished, and even the fake mustaches and beards were carefully groomed in
preparation for their next use.
With his weapons, lovingly attended to, Jim then dealt with some outstanding
correspondence, including a report to their superiors in Washington. President
Grant was always curious as to what went on in California, especially where
Governor Haight was concerned. They two men were known as friends, but Grant
was savvy enough to know that friendships didn’t always transcend politics and
Haight had his own ambitions which might extend beyond Sacramento. There was
also the matter of requisitions and expenses, for which Jim referred to the
ledgers that Artie so painstakingly filled out to keep track of exactly how
much it cost to solve crimes, protected the President, and foil the plans of
megalomaniacs to take over all or part of the United States. It wasn’t cheap.
As nighttime fell, and candles were lit, Artie sensed a restlessness building
up in their shared accommodation. Neither of them had ventured out for hours.
To open any of the doors was to risk a thorough drenching. Jim was getting
bored and Artie knew where James West’s mind was likely to go at time like
that. It was time for one of his favorite indulgences.
The train had no shortage of whiskey or fine cigars, but as Artie
ostentatiously opened a volume of Shakespeare, as if planning to immerse
himself in an evening of reading, he heard the words that never failed to
produce a deep-seated rush of passion throughout his being, in this case
punctuated by the flash of lightning just outside the passenger car.
“Get the corset.”
The corset had been his mother’s and it had seen years of use before Artie
volunteered to work the mines in her place. She tried to talk him out of it,
but her cough and shaking hands said more than she ever could. Those very same
hands laced his fourteen year old body into the corset for his first day alone
among the miners.
He quickly learned there were two kinds of men; the ones who would have
preferred a girl and those who actually wanted a boy, but didn’t necessarily
want to admit that they did. With the help of the corset, a wig and some pots
of face-paint, he was able to service both. It was the earliest revelation of
his talent for impersonation, the skill that would eventually get him out of
Kentucky when he met a mining engineer working for the US Geological Survey. He
rode away from the mines without looking back and began a career in government
service that led to a partnership with one James T. West.
James was different than any man he’d ever known. His liking for the ladies was
no secret, and he’d never chosen to approach Artie for those purposes, no
matter how long they might be without female companionship. On the other hand,
he’d always shown a fascination with Artie’s ability to transform himself into
the feminine form when the job required it. Something about the corset, maybe
its rigidity, or the elaborate ritual of the lacing seemed to spark his
interest, a very particular kind of interest.
Artie was no longer the boy whose painted smile had often been smeared earning
enough to keep him and mama fed, but he still knew how to negotiate for what he
needed in return.
“You get the chaps.”
“All right.”
Eventually they sat facing each other in near darkness, one flickering candle
between them.
Jim didn’t need Artie to get into a dress or even to don a wig. It was Artie
himself, clearly a man, cock exposed and engorged, his upper body encased in
the corset that he wanted to say. Maybe he liked the contrast between freedom
and constraint, between male and female, or maybe he just had a bit of an
inverted streak and this was the only way he felt comfortable acting on it.
Artie didn’t care, he was just happy to give James what he wanted and get his
own personal object of desire in return.
It was Jim, naked except for a pair of leather chaps. God he was beautiful. His
body lean and taut, chest and abdomen well-muscled, and his prick a thing to be
worshipped, which Artie would have done in a heartbeat.
The rain continued to batter the top of the train and surrounded countryside to
the same rhythm that Artie picked up as he began stroking himself, wanting to
breathe deeply, but unable to do and there was a certain tense eroticism to
that fact. He knew Jim liked the little whimper that emerged as his torso
strained against the whalebone.
Jim’s pace was more leisurely. Artie noted a certain lazy insolence to the way
he slouched in the armchair, a leg casually draped over one arm, making himself
even more exposed to Artie’s hungry gaze. A bit of a performer himself, James
West was, even if he didn’t go in for theatrics the way Artie did. Right now he
was putting on a show and Artie didn’t want to miss a moment.
He wished he could cross the space between, reach out, touch the smooth skin,
feel the coarse pubic hair against his fingers, breathe in James’s scent.
Instead he watched Jim work himself, as skilled at masturbation as he was at
acts of physical violence with what were almost delicate hands.
Artie took a second to pinch one of his own nipples and James indicated his
approval with a grunt and an upward thrust of his hips, which gave Artie of
world of imagination of Jim inside him, while Artie sat in his lap, and that
same thrust pushed him in deeper.
Too much. Too much to ask. Too much to think about. He slowed himself down,
spreading his legs wide, stroking his own thighs, showing Jim how much he had
to offer, watching as Jim sighed deeply in what sounded like appreciation. They
had all night to sit there in the rain and caress each other’s bodies with
their eyes while each pleasured themselves. Artie touched his balls, feeling
the tension rising again. His mining engineer had named Gordon and suggested it
would make a good last name for his new life. He’d also had a taste for having
his balls licked. Artie had been happy to oblige; as happy as he would been to
display his prowess on Jim’s heavy sac.
It would feel so good in his hand and against his tongue. He’d make James West
lose all composure with a few carefully time licks.
“Oh god,” he exclaimed, not even meaning too, and Jim’s throaty, somewhat lewd
chuckle echoed in the car as if he knew exactly what Artie had been thinking at
that moment.
Whether he did or not, something was propelling him now.
Artie could see Jim’s pace picking up, his cock bobbing up and down. He could
smell leather and sweat and cigars and whiskey and everything that was James
West permeating the railroad car. He could feel his own skin getting clammy and
the corset digging into his flesh and he could hear Jim’s breathing growing
nearly as shallow as his own.
“Jim,” he called out as his hand moved faster, his toes curled and the shiver
of released came up through his body shaking him until he ejaculated in hot
spurts, reminding him again of the vicious satisfaction he’d gotten making
those filthy miners lose themselves in his hand, at his power.
Jim didn’t say anything intelligible, but in Artie’s mind he was coming inside
him and for him. In that moment, James West was his. They were together; that’s
what was important.
Artie could have slept where he was, but the corset needed to come off and
James required a bit of cleaning up, so Artie rose with a long leisurely
stretch and yawn, to carefully remove and store the precious garment. He saw a
certain dreamy quality to Jim’s eyes in the candle-light that he chose to call
love.
It might be weeks or even months before he needed the corset again, but when he
did…when James did… the corset would be there.
Ready and waiting.
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