#brandedutton

oh he had almost forgotten where he had procured the white stetson atop his head until the kid comes rolling up. his motel was becoming busier these days. an easy sort of smile curls on his lips as he runs his fingers nice and slow along the brim. dark eyes challenge kayce, as if daring him to do something about it.

“huh, this old thing is yours?” 

he leans back, letting his hand fall away and tips it back to flaunt his prize. matt smiles and puts his croc clad feet up on the shitty glass table regardless of how it rattles under the movement. both feet now, crossed at the ankles and his fingers crossed behind his head.

“well...”

oh how he drawls that simple little word, making it hang heavy in the summer air. his smile is saccharine and he gives a pat to his thigh.

ASKS.    //     @brandedutton

A moment of silence fell between the two, light from the camp fire flickering in the darkness to the crickets’ chirping. He understood those words, understood why the other would say them. Yet it didn’t hurt any less just because he knew where Kayce’s words were coming from.

“I just realized something...”

Diesel Matthews was dressed for the night. Any cowgirl would die a happy lady if he shot them a wink across the bar. Friday nights and Saturdays nights had always held a certain tradition between the Matthews siblings, even when his sister became an Andrews. Friday and Saturday nights were always saved for a night honky tonkin’. 

 He’d offered to lend a hand to another ranch hand in need and God knew cows could be a pain in the ass. Not everyone was made to tend to cattle and it took a special breed of people to do just that. But hard work always offered the best times to play. 

brandedutton said: “…didn’t know where else to go…”

❝    and    i    thought    my    second    in    command    was    being    humorous    when    he    said    that    a    human    came    knocking    at    my    doorstep.    ❞    a    brow    lifted,    a    quiet    inquiry    wrote    itself    upon    the    𝙡𝙮𝙘𝙖𝙣    𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧’s    tired    features.    ❝    surely,    you    must    be    a    brave    man    to    fall    into    the    very    jaws    of    us,    monsters.    ❞     the    last    word    was    spat    through    tightly    clenched    fangs.    the    lycan    had    kept    himself    himself    to    the    world    for    far    too    many    years    to    care    for    the    outcome    of    his    existence    among    mere    humans.    CARELESS    and    IMPULSIVE    he    had    become.    perhaps    DESPERATE    was    a    more    suitable    definition…    but    a    monster,    he    was    NOT.    and    yet,    he    chose    to    live    the    lie.

Daniel waited patiently at the passenger seat for John Dutton to reach the house, idly watching the scenery pass by as they distanced themselves more and more from the city and towards the rural area. His new owner reached at his house in the afternoon as the car came to a stop in front of a little farm.

He was instructed to get out of the car before he was introduced to the family from member to member until they got to his so Kayce at last. “Son, this is Daniel. Got that thing from the city and it’ll be helping us with our house chores from now on.”

“Hello,” Daniel added and waved.

“So... yeah, I guess that’s all the people I could introduce to you,” John said to Daniel before shrugging and turning to back to Kayce. “Anyway, gotta head out again. Make sure you give Daniel some work while you’re at it.”

an answering scoff is given as he regards the kid splayed out on the shitty floral print of the bedspread.

the illusion of a gunshot rings outside and reminds him of when he was younger, more naive. just like this dumb blond he’d managed to get back here in his room. just a truck misfiring. not bolivia or marrakesh where he’d watched good men get gunned down. just him and this kid in some shitty motel in the armpit of wisconsin where no one would find them even if they looked for him. his gaze is heavy on the blond, taking in how his chest heaved and the smell of him permeated over the lingering scent of smoke.

“yeah,” he takes a step from the window back towards the bed.

“whatever you say kid.”

tugging free his belt, he knocks aside the blond’s legs spreading them wide as he steps closer, deftly pulling down the zipper of his jeans. a nod is given towards the headboard and he grins slowly. “why don’t you get rid of those pants and show me what we’re working with first?” a knee slides up between those thighs, applying firm pressure as he pulls free his own shirt and lazily begins popping the buttons free.

“hell, you can even call me daddy if that’s what get you hot.” a breathless sort of laugh slips free. “you look the type that enjoys it, being used.” matt gives a patt to one of the kid’s thighs and drops his shirt to the ground.

*: ･ﾟ✧   red dead redemption 2 meme // accepting

In and out, in and out. He knows that Kayce is only saying shit he knows ain’t truth because of the arrow presently buried clean through his shoulder. Worry wasn’t a good look on the bastard and if Issac had half a mind to gather enough energy he would tell him as such. As it stood, his grip was tight on the reins and Jenny Grey continued her slow easy gait. In a delirious moment he cannot help but appreciate the fact this gentle mare beneath his thighs had saved his life more times than he could remember.

A huffing sort of laugh slips free, fatigue nipping at the edges of his vision with dangerous inky black, and Issac merely adjusts his hat with the arm that presently can handle such movement. No need to worry Kayce, it was a long way until a doctor and pulling free the arrow meant more blood than he could afford to lose.

“…’fraid Jenny here is more reliable than that nag of yours.” A pained breath is drawn in and his knuckles go white round the leather in his hands. Still there’s a slight grin and he urges his mare onward with a nudge of his spurs. “Worry ‘bout yourself, that colt of yours hates you something fierce.” No need to cause panic, to ivconviencene a friend with his own troubles. An arrow wouldn’t kill him today and neither would urging Jenny Grey to get on to a gallop as his shoulder felt as if on fire.

The ranch is quiet, the snowfall comes and these lands are a barren landscape of pure white. When the melt comes and washes away that quiet perfection sometimes it leaves something behind in its tracks like a violent reminder of the wilderness that lurked just outdoors. When footfalls crush the damp underbrush, there is an answering slowing crunch as smaller feet come to a halt.

Amidst the swaying cattails, there are amber eyes, ears flicked back and the near invisible tawny fur. Any normal animal would’ve spooked and run quick as can be in the opposite direction but this one, well, this one was creeping closer with quiet curiosity.