#flachoes

"I-I know I always do this, I just think it's nice, alright? Can't a fella appreciate?"

Kieran also really likes the height difference because he can kiss your forehead without barely having to bend his legs, which is his favourite kind of kiss!!

Whenever you travel with Kieran, he'll put you in front of him on the saddle, his arms reaching around you to hold onto the reins. He loves that you don't need to duck down so he can see, you'll fit very comfortably against him as he rides. Don't be surprised if you feel something hard press against your ass whenever you two go down a bumpy path.

Micah

He's such a dick when it comes to your height difference. He'll use you as an armrest all the time, maybe rest his chin on your head when he's trying to be a little bit affectionate.

Micah NEEDS to see you in his leather coat. He needs to see the way his coat hem drags along the floor, and the way the sleeves look twice the size as they dip far below your knuckles.

"Ain't that the cutest thing? Might need to buy myself some more coats just so I can dress you up in them."

He won't admit it at first, but he really likes the way you fit so snuggly against his chest whenever he's spooning you. Micah is so weak for that!!

He adooooores having you on his lap, especially when you're straddling him during a heated makeout session. You've had to hold him back many times from just taking you on the table in the middle of camp, at night of course, because those makeout sessions get far too intimate to risk anyone seeing.

Micah's quite the slut for missionary because he can enjoy the way he towers over you, pinning you down to the bedroll, leaving marks along your neck as he either praises or scolds you, depending on what mood he's in.

Arthur

Oh my god, Arthur loves it.

He finds it a lot easier to manhandle you and will jump on the opportunity to pick you up and push you against the wall during sex.

I hope you have a praise kink too because you're gonna hear a lot of praise coming out of his mouth.

But when you two aren't having spicy times, Arthur loves to have you cuddled up in his lap at the campfire.

"Come over here, darlin'. Don't you wanna come cuddle up with me by the campfire?"

You'll fit so perfectly snug against him, almost using his body as a blanket as you lean your back into his chest. His arms will always be tucked around you, legs on either side of yours. You can tell when Arthurs getting tired because he'll rest his head on top of yours (and maybe doze off.)

It had been about a year since you and your brother had unofficially joined the Del Lobos. That was quite a long time to y’all, seeing as the two of you didn’t like to commit to other people, y’all had always rode alone. It wasn’t so hard to be an affiliate of the gang, however. You and Billy could go wherever you pleased and not communicate with the gang for weeks on end, as long as you brought money back to the gang and spoke to Flaco when you returned to the Grizzlies. The two of you weren’t exactly the typical Del Lobos affiliates, but you were quick and accurate with a gun and had never snitched before, so Flaco welcomed you and Billy into the gang rather kindly. 

This time, you and Billy had been gone for at least a month. You hadn’t intended on staying out that long, but a heist led you to France and it had taken forever to travel there. Upon your return, Flaco demanded to speak to you and Billy. Flaco always wanted to hear from you after your trips but when the Del Lobos told you that Flaco needed to speak to you, they passed along that he was much more tense, almost angry, than usual. Not much scared you in this cruel world, but an angry Flaco did.

You and Billy immediately set off to speak to Flaco in his cabin. It was a very short walk from the rest of the cabins, but the fear in the pit of your stomach made you walk much slower than normal. Billy seemed to have the same feeling.

“What do you think he’s going to say?” Billy asked you.

“He’s probably mad we stayed out this long? What else does he have to talk about? Surely he’s not calling us in to have tea, Billy.” you replied with a shakiness in your voice.

This apparently made your brother quite angry. His face went from fearful to enraged in half a second. 

“He doesn’t control us. He can’t tell us what to do. We will never be his workmen. We forge our own path.”

“I agree, but we accepted his offer of protection in the Grizzlies and he expects us to follow his rules, I suppose. Just try not to make a scene. I know how you are.”

“Fuck you, I’ll make a Hell of a scene. Just watch.”

“Billy, stop”

It was too late. The two of you had reached the door to Flaco’s cabin and instead of listening to you, your twin had bust through the door without warning. He always had been hellbent on destroying authority.

“Mr Hernandez, we do not have to answer to you! You think you are better than us but old man, you are far past your prime. In fact, my sister and I have racked up bigger bounties than you already. This superiority complex has to stop or else you will find a bullet between your eyes.” Billy word vomited at Flaco.

You had looked at Billy in confusion the moment he started talking. Superiority complex? Bullet between his eyes? What was this man talking about? Flaco eyes grew dark at the rude words and you cowered in fear, planning on what to do if Flaco tried to kill him.

To your surprise, Flaco began laughing. “Oh, the little boy think he can talk big to Flaco? He think he can scare me, huh? Puffing out your chest, thinking he is a man. You are pathetic. Leave before I shoot you, I will talk with the girl. She is more reasonable than you.”

Billy scoffed. “Who do you think you’re talking to, old man?” 

“Billy, go. You have disrespected him.” you said softly.

Billy huffed and puffed but he still ended up leaving.

“Now, what do you want, Flaco?” You asked. Your brother insisted on calling him Mr. Hernandez as a way of “keeping his distance”, whatever that meant, But you, well you had a sort of friendship with Flaco. You definitely had a soft spot for him. You didn’t feel anything but disdain for most men, but you liked Flaco. Maybe more than you would like to admit.

“You were gone for a long time.” he informed you, like you didn’t already know.

“I know, we didn’t mean to. We made our way to France for an art heist and we sure made you a lot of money. Would-”

“I was worried,” Flaco said softly, cutting you off. “I do not care about the money. Your cabron brother is right. You have big bounties on your head.”

You laughed lightly, not showing that you were taking his care for you to heart. 

“We can take care of ourselves. Been taking care of ourselves for well over a decade, since we were very little.” you told him, looking at your shoes. You didn’t like to open up to people

“You will have to tell me about that someday. When you are ready. Anyway, don’t care much for the jackass. But you, I care for you. How did your trip go?”

“Fine, made out with a lot of money. Billy’s cockiness got us a bounty over there. That’s a first for us, being wanted in multiple countries.” “Sounds like him.” Flaco chuckled warmly.

“It was good besides that. Ate a lot of the native foods and saw beautiful buildings. I liked it there.”

“Did you find a French lover? That is what they’re known for, eh? Love?”

You laughed at him. “I think that is just a stereotype. I was too busy anyhow.”

“Too busy for love? You have a lot to learn, but you are young and Flaco is old, so it makes sense you are not as wise. Surely you had boys following you around, though? You are very beautiful.”

“I guess so.” you responded awkwardly. Truthfully, several men had followed you around during your time there, yelling things at you that you were glad you couldn’t understand. You assumed they were lewd. It all made you so uncomfortable.

Flaco sensed something was wrong and, not knowing how to comfort you, changed the subject, although not one you particularly wanted to talk about either.

“You did disobey your part of the deal, though. You understand that, yes?”

“The deal?” You asked. You had no idea what he was talking about.

“The deal we made when you joined Del Lobos. When we gave you our protection.”

Oh, that. You didn’t remember there being any specified deal, much less that you couldn’t leave for an extended amount of time, but Flaco looked angry so you decided not to question him further.

“Oh yes, I do. I’m sorry we broke the rules, Flaco.”

“Do not call me that right now. We are not friends. I am your boss. You address me as such. This is a serious thing you have gone and done.”

“I’m sorry, sir?” the term felt foreign on your tongue. You didn’t answer to anybody like this.

“Yes yes. Good. You two need to learn. Your brother, I’m afraid, I can not reprimand because he will make me angry and I will kill him. Poof, no more Billy. But you, I think I can handle you.”

Handle you? What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not sure I understand. I really am sorry.”

“Sorry is not good enough. I have leniency because you are young and stupid. Any of my men who would do what you did? I shoot them. But you are grown, yes? Old enough to know better?”

You and your brother didn’t explicitly tell people your age for security reasons, so it was a valid question on his part, although you felt you definitely looked old enough for that generally to not be a question. But you were pretty young and you looked it. 

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t be so friendly with you if I was just a kid. That wouldn’t be exactly safe.” You tried to laugh but Flaco’s eyes were narrow and so unkind in that moment that you decided against it.

“Good, then you won’t have a problem taking your punishment.” He smiled wickedly.

“What punishment,?” you asked. Flaco furrowed his eyebrows. “sir?” you added.

He smiled once again, but didn’t let his stern exterior go. He sat down on his cot.

“Lay here.” he patted his lap.

“Oh I don’t think so” you backed yourself into his door. Flaco stayed where he was and looked at you patiently. He wasn’t stopping you from leaving. This was entirely up to you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments. You could feel the immense tension between you and Flaco. Finally, you walked over and bent over his knee.

“Fine. I guess this makes sense. I did break the rules.” You were mostly reasoning with yourself, not Flaco.

“No, chica. Pull up your dress. You can leave your drawers on.” The request probably should have offended you, but you felt heat in your core at the thought. You tried not to show this on your face, however, and pulled your dress up before laying back down on Flaco’s lap.

“Such a good listener, you are. Wish you would have listened to my rules the first time.” his hand rubbed your ass through your bloomers before striking it abruptly. You yelped in surprise. What was more surprising was that it felt good. You’d never been spanked before, this was all new to you.

“Flaco-” you started.

“Shhh” he brought his hand down again, hard. If he kept spanking you this hard, your ass would be stinging for days.

Yet he didn’t relent. He spanked you seven or eight times, each one harder than the one before. Despite your best efforts, you involuntarily started to let out strangled moans. You cursed yourself after each one. You were in trouble with Flaco, not having sex with him. 

Flaco finally stopped and you assumed he was done. However, when you got up, Flaco pulled you back down by your hair. Ugh, why did that feel good too?

“You are not learning your lesson.” Flaco hissed, obviously frustrated, but at the same time it didn’t quite feel like he was frustrated with you.

“No I promise, Flaco.” he smacked your ass once more. “Sorry, sir.”

“I need you to pull your bloomers down.” he told you sternly.

“What? No.” You may be an outlaw, but you were still a lady.

He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna make you but-” you nodded at him, signifying that you were okay with it. You never thought you’d be doing this but for some reason, you trusted Flaco. Besides, you secretly wanted him to keep going.

Flaco was visibly confused as to why you had nodded but had made no move to pull down your bloomers. After a few moments, he took the hint and pulled them down himself. You immediately clenched your thighs together, praying that he couldn’t see how wet you were. That however, was a massive failure.

“I think you need to explain something, mi novia.” he said, in the meantime giving you two hard slaps on the ass.

“I don’t know what that means, sorry sir.”

“It means my girl.” he told you in a soft, husky voice.

You shivered at the words. You wanted to be his girl. You wanted it badly. And he seemed to be on the same page as you. He hadn’t done this because you did something wrong and he felt it strongly needed to be corrected. No, he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

“I- well I liked it when you spanked me. I didn’t know I would, I’ve never been spanked before.”

“You’re inexperienced, huh?” Flaco asked, moving his hands from your ass to feel the wetness between your folds.

“Flaco!” you gasped.

“And expressive. I like that.”

“I’m just, oh! I haven’t done any of this before.”

Flaco pulled his hand back abruptly. He was silent and you, sure that you had done something wrong, sat up and looked up at him.

“You aren’t a virgin, are you?” he asked in disbelief.

“Ummm, yeah I am. I’m sorry, I suppose.” you got up from his lap and picked your bloomers off the floor, absolutely mortified.

“Wait, mi angel.” Flaco grabbed your arm. “It’s not a bad thing, not at all. I was surprised, is all. You’re a rough and tumble girl.” he laughed, but it was clear there was meaning behind his words. “Come back here, let ol’ Flaco make you feel good.”

You smiled and laid over him again, this time both of your intentions being clear. 

“How about you sit on my lap while I help you? So I can see your face? That should be sufficient payment for the pleasure I will give you, yes.”

You would have jumped over the moon if Flaco had asked you to at that moment, so of course you did what he said and sat in his lap with your legs spread.

You never thought you’d be here, Flaco fucking you with his fingers in his cold cabin (although you felt anything but cold at the moment). You had dreamed of it, sure, but this was real life. You had never considered that Flaco had been attracted to you, but now as you felt his dick strain against his pants, there was no denying it. 

Flaco fingered you at different paces depending on what he felt you needed based on your expressions. The higher and more frequent your moans came, the faster he went. When he felt it was becoming too much for you, he slowed down a bit, never losing his rhythm. He didn’t want to overstimulate you, at least this time. Flaco was good at this, surely very experienced, but you tried not to think about that. You focused on the feeling in the pit of your stomach and Flaco’s eyes, which were looking directly into yours. It was a bit intense, but it only added to the experience for you. He seemed to love it, biting down on his lip when you moaned particularly loud. At this point, his fingers were completely slick and you were fucking yourself back and forth on his fingers. The heat in your core was getting more intense and you were becoming desperate. You begged over and over for him to fuck you but he refused.

“No, angel, that is too fast. I have to come up with a way for it to be special.” More special than this? You wanted to protest but he kept fingering you the whole time, bringing you closer to your orgasm the whole time, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to argue back. Besides, a promise to get with Flaco again another time wasn’t so bad.

It didn’t take much longer for you to come undone. Between feeling Flaco’s dick strain against you through his pants and the swift rhythm of his fingers, it wasn’t longer before you threw your head back, moaning his name, and came onto his fingers. He smirked at the scene and kissed you quickly before removing his fingers. 

“You were so good mi novia,” Flaco praised you, before adding, “Now put your clothes back on before you catch a cold. You need to stay warm.”

“We can- we’re gonna do this, again, right?” you asked Flaco after you put your skirt and underwear back on and started to walk out the door into the cold.

Everyone forgot old Flaco.

Oh, but not everyone. Not the one little job hunter who always came up to his old, rickety cabin, rifle ready to go and that look in your eyes. The old familiar fire that burned bright and, in some odd way, always warmed him up. Maybe it was the can-do attitude, or how you would always give him that excited but curt nod before you accepted a job from him. The small smile that splayed across your lips, or how your thumb hooked into your belt, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you listened to his nonsense rambling.

He had studied you every time you entered through that door, quick to shut his old door to keep what little warmth there was inside. He would watch you stomp off the excess snow clinging to your boots, the way the shiver would crawl up your spine and make you tremble. He had offered you to stay a few times, warm yourself up by the fire before you went out into the dreaded cold again. And he noticed how a few deer carcasses had found their way to his doorstep, no doubt a gift from his favorite little errand runner.

Maybe you had finally melted that old, frozen heart of his. As silly as he felt, Flaco found himself awaiting your arrival almost daily. Cleaning his guns, sharpening his knife, whittling away at the piece of wood he worked on day in and day out. Even now, he sits in his old chair, knife carving away pieces of the wood, holding it back every now and then to admire his handiwork. He was almost done, having kept it hidden every time you would burst through his door, looking for more work. Was he a fool for doing this? Making a carving of your faithful horse in hopes it would bring that old smile to your face. Perhaps he was. But truth be told, the thought of you had warmed him more than any fire could.

Everything had gone through his mind regarding how you would accept his feelings. A look of disgust, discomfort or confusion. A relieved expression, confessing you’ve felt the same way. He knew you weren’t much of a talker, something he quite appreciated most of the time. You listened to him, never spoke back, never tried to talk over him. He could tell you the most boring of stories, and you’d stand there silently, listening to everything he had to say – or so he hoped. Maybe you just stood there, slinging every insult in the book at him in your head. He could never know.

The approach of horse hooves catches his attention. Speak of the devil, he supposed. He takes a look at the carving. No, it wasn’t perfect. A gift for a later date, but he couldn’t stand to be silent any longer. He tucks the piece of wood away as you open the door, jacket wrapped tightly around you, a bandana covering the lower part of your face and trapping in extra warmth. He raises his hand, motioning for you to come forward.

“There you are, mi alma,” His voice comes out as a purr, and he can see your eyebrows raise as you draw near. “We got a lot to talk about, you and me.”

He slowly stands from his seat, letting out a soft groan, commenting about his ever growing age. He can feel your eyes on him, watching his every move as he goes to tower over you. He takes in your features, something he had memorized, but was still captivated by. He watches you slowly pull the bandana down, exposing your frozen face.

“I’ve been waiting for you, you know?” he starts slowly. He opens his mouth, intending to continue his talk, but he finds his mouth going dry. It was almost laughable. The “Terror of the Grizzlies” had found himself speechless, almost intimidated by the patient stare you had greeted him with. What was he going to say?

“Flaco…?” Your voice is soft and it snaps him out of his trance. Your eyebrows knit together, searching his eyes for any hint as to what’s going on. His hand almost moves on its own, reaching up to cup your cheek with such a gentle touch, almost like he was scared of breaking you. He’s bent over slightly, lips parted as he finds himself slowly leaning forward. He’s searching for a sign – any sign of you wanting to back out of this. But you never give him one. He feels his heart race. Had you actually been waiting for this? He notices how you slowly lean up, meeting him halfway and pressing your lips against his. Soft and warm, enough to send a shiver up his spine as he lets his eyes flutter shut, using his free hand to wrap it around your waist, dragging you closer. The trembling of your body slowly stops as you reach up to grasp his coat, both of you molding together as the once slow and shy kiss turns more passionate. His sombrero is soon knocked off, one of your hands going to thread through the loose locks of hair. He groans softly against your lips, trailing his hands up and down your body.

It’s not long before he’s taking hold of your thighs, lifting you up and coaxing you to wrap them around his waist, pinning you against the cold, wooden wall of his cabin. He pulls back just enough to admire you, your eyes half lidded and your lips red and parted. His heart is thumping, face tinted red as he brings his face lower, burying it in the crook of your neck and covering every inch of exposed skin with hot kisses and soft nips.

“Mi corazón,” he breathes, his hot breath tickling your skin and making you squirm beneath his touch as his chilly hands find their way inside your shirt. “Mi vida. Mi alma.”

“Flaco,” There’s no question behind his name this time, your head tilting further to the side to allow him leave more marks across your neck. He can’t think properly – can’t even form words in English to tell you how he feels. So he relies on actions, spouting out everything he can think of in a jumble of breathless Spanish. You’re perfect and dependable, a loaded gun with such precision aim it almost reminded Flaco of himself in his glory years, and he makes sure to let this be known. Whether you can understand him or not doesn’t matter to him. What matters is getting his point across, rolling his hips against yours as he trails his kisses lower, nipping at your collar bone and tugging at your shirt as he continues on his tangent.

 It’s when the cold breeze hits him does he finally snap out of it. Blinking his eyes frantically, he looks up. He’s no longer got you pinned against the wall. Instead, he’s still seated in his chair, the carving of your horse in his hand as his gaze falls on you. You shuffle inside, a concerned look on your face.

“You feelin’ alright?” you ask, stomping off the snow from your boots as you walk towards him. “Normally you’re on guard, hearin’ me from a mile away…”

“Just thinking, mi corazón,” he tells you softly, straightening his posture and tucking the carving away. The look of concern on your face turns to confusion.

“Mi what?” you question. He shakes his head, waving his hand as he slips his knife back into its sheath. He admires your face, just like he had done in his fantasy. It was now or never.

You held your side tightly, despite the burning pain that it caused. Eyes narrowed against the blizzard before you, other hand held out to try to shield you from the snow, you stumbled and limped to the top of the hill. God you hoped you really were where you thought you were. If Cairn Lodge wasn’t just over this hill, you were dead. If you didn’t bleed out, you’d freeze to death. You’d likely already have been mauled by wolves who followed your bloody tracks through the snow, if the blizzard hadn’t pushed them into their dens. 

You could cry with joy when you crested the hill and saw the faint outline of Cairn Lodge across the frozen lake. Maybe, just maybe, your boss would let you shelter here and nurse your wounds while the storm blew over. Flaco put up a tough, angry exterior, but as you’d come to know him, you’d found he was actually... sweet. You doubted he’d kick you out in this storm. 

You staggered down the hill, moving as quickly as your frozen feet and injured knee would let you. You let out a squawk as your foot came in contact with a rock, while the other one lost its grip in the slippery snow. You did the splits for a moment, before you went tumbling down the hill. What was a couple more bruises at this point? You were already covered head to toe. 

You lay face down in the snow for a minute, gathering the strength to pull yourself up to your feet once more. It would be so easy to just... not. The cold snow was numbing your side, numbing all your injuries. It would be quite easy to just slip away. 

No. You’d never been one to give up before, and you were so close to shelter. With an agonized groan, you pushed yourself up out of the snow and shakily to your feet. A pool of blood stained the snow where you’d been laying, coming from the wound in your side. You stumbled toward the cabin, nearly losing your footing, but by some luck managing to keep it. You weren’t sure you’d be able to force yourself to your feet again. 

Finally you reached the cabin. You fell against the door, feet not wanting to pick themselves up anymore, and fell face-first into the cabin, letting out a little cry of pain as you hit the floor. Your side screamed in agony, and you clutched at your wound. 

You heard Flaco gasp out your name, and heard the thunk of his boots as he moved to your side. You let out another cry of pain as Flaco rolled you over onto your back. He took in your state in one glance, brows furrowing, all business. 

“Who did this?” He growled. “What happened?”

“Posse of men,” you managed, speaking through clenched teeth and barely suppressed groans of pain. “Ambushed me... little north of Lake Isabella.” You tried to explain. “Shot me. Beat me. Outnumbered. Blizzard hit. Stole my horse. Left me to die.” You grabbed Flaco’s arm, pulling yourself up. “I’ll be okay I just... need some shelter... ah!” You cried out in pain as your movements jostled your wound once more. You would have fallen back to the floor if Flaco hadn’t caught you. 

“Don’t move, you fool,” Flaco growled, pulling you into his arms and carrying you to lie down on his cot. You cried out once more when he set you down, your side wound screaming in pain. “Sorry, sorry,” Flaco mumbled, grabbing his bottle of whiskey. “Here. It’l help with the pain.” He said, helping you sit up just enough to drink some. The whiskey warmed you instantly. But it also made you drowsy. Or maybe that was the blood loss.

“‘M not...” You mumbled, the world becoming fuzzy. “‘M not weak.” You said. 

“What?” Flaco said. You didn’t miss the concern that passed over his face as your eye went in and out of focus. 

“‘M not weak. “M not. ‘M no...” You trailed off as you fell into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were restless, even if you spent most of it unconscious. You were hot, always trying to throw the big warm pelts off of you. You remembered strong hands pinning you down, bundling you up, making sure you couldn’t get out of them. 

A voice, familiar yet strange, near but distant, firm yet gentle talked to you, though you had no idea what it had said. Eventually the restless, fitful sleeps shifted into peaceful, whole sleeps. 

When you finally did wake up, well and truly wake up, you were immediately aware of the pain in your side. You let out a little whimper, squirming in bed, trying to get away from whatever was hurting you. As you senses came back, you remembered the wound in your side. 

“Can you hear me?” A warm voice asked. Slowly you opened your eyes, brows pinched in pain. Flaco leaned over you, eyes soft with worry. You groaned, but nodded. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I was hit by a train.” You mumbled, voice hoarse with disuse. You pushed yourself up against the pillow so you were reclining, not quite sitting up, but up enough that you could meet Flaco’s gaze without him leaning over you. 

“No offense, but you look like it.” Flaco chuckled. His shoulders visibly dropped, and you could practically see the stress melt away. “Here, drink this.” He said, uncorking a bottle of tonic and handing it to you. You brought the bottle to your lips and tossed your head back, downing the bitter liquid without letting it touch your tongue, then handed him back the bottle. 

“How long...” You asked after a moment. 

“Four days.” Flaco answered. Your eyes widened. “That wound in your side was bad. Real bad. You were nearly frozen to death when you stumbled in here. I was pretty sure you were gonna die there,” Flaco admitted, gesturing to the bed where you lay. “You had a fever. Lost a lot of blood. It wasn’t good. But after the storm passed, another of my employees came up here looking for work. I sent them for the nearest doctor. He stitched you up and gave you something that brought your fever down.” Flaco explained. 

“Thank you,” You said. Flaco waved you off. 

“Bah. Of course. I help my amigos.” He huffed. The two of you were quiet for a minute. “What do you remember?” He asked. 

“I was on my way up here to work a couple jobs, do some treasure hunting and regular hunting. Just the usual.” You explained. “I came across a posse on my way up here. They ambushed me, shot me, chased me up around Lake Isabella. They lassoed me off my horse. I think they would have kidnaped me, but I fought back. That only made them angry though. So they beat me.” You were quiet for a moment. “I think they would have killed me, had the storm not rolled in. They stole my horse and left me there to die.” 

“Don’t worry, those bastardos won’t find you here.” Flaco assured you. You hummed and nodded. 

The cabin was quiet a moment, before Flaco spoke again. 

“Before you passed out, you said something about not being weak.” Flaco said. “What did you mean.” You sighed and looked away. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak or incapable, just because I was hurt and asking for help,” you said. 

“Hey, I’d never think that,” Flaco assured you, patting your hand. “You’re my most trusted employee. You’ve never let me down.” He said. You just hummed in response. "Don't worry. I don't think any less of you. We all can get caught off guard sometimes. Happens to the best of us." Flaco assured you. "For now just take it easy. You can stay here until you're ready to head back out there. And don't worry about the bastards that did this. They've been taken care of."

“Thank you, Flaco,” You said. You reached up and grabbed his coat, pulling him towards you, pulling yourself up as much as you could to meet him. You planted a small kiss on his cheek. You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it. You’d been sweet on the old gunslinger forever, but you’d never acted on it. Maybe it was the near death experience, or the waning fever that gave you the confidence to kiss his cheek. 

Flaco blinked at you as you let him go and flopped back down on the pillow. Slowly his face morphed into a shy smile, unable to meet your gaze as he pushed himself to his feet. 

“I’ll, uh... I’ve got some beans. I’ll cook us up something to eat.” He said, ducking his head under his sombrero and walking across the room. You just watched him, a small smile on your face as he busied himself making you some food.

The first time you ever met them, they pointed their guns at you and ordered you to state your business. They didn't believe that you were just here to work for Flaco, but he soon came out of his cabin, overhearing the commotion, and assured them that you're "a friend."

Flaco apologized for his men's behaviour, and they apologized to you directly the next time they saw you.

But the fact that Flaco called you his friend gave you high hopes, and motivated you to continue working at his outer layers.

Weeks continued to pass by. Flaco didn't seem very different, but his men had taken the time to get to know you, inviting you for a drink around the campfire, and sometimes even joining you on missions.

They nicknamed you 'pequeña lobita ', meaning 'little wolf,' as you're not quite a Del Lobo, but you're affiliated with them.

But one night, after a few too many drinks around the campfire, one of the gang members slipped up and told you the other reason why they call you pequeña lobita.

You've noticed how Flaco calls himself 'the wolf', and it must be a nickname that his gang members also call him; you're called little wolf, because he's the big wolf.

They tell you about how Flaco's secretly swoons over you; you obviously don't believe it, but the more they explain, the more you realize how true it is.

Flaco's closed himself off to you for many reasons: he's worried about making a fool of himself and messing up his chances, he thinks you won't go for an 'old man' like him, he doesn't want to waste your time, and so on.

They've teased Flaco before, making passing comments about how often you visit him, to which he brushes them off and barks at them to "mind your goddamn business!"

His gang continue being honest, saying that they've placed bets on how long it'll be until one of you finally bursts the bubble. They refuse to tell you how long they've all estimated, for obvious reasons, but you go to sleep that night deciding that you'll do something about it.

The next day, Flaco has work for you, and you instantly pick up on the signs of tension that you were too naive to miss: he's awkward, extremely awkward, his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he constantly fiddles with that same stick that he's been whittling for months.

Now that you're aware of Flaco's secret feelings, you feel yourself become just as awkward, struggling to speak and refusing to look directly at him.

"Are you okay?" Flaco suddenly asks, his eyes meeting yours for what could possibly be the first time ever.

You shrug him off, saying that you're just a little tired; Flaco doesn't take the bait, and rises from his chair, standing far-too-close to you, his eyes peering down at you.

There's a moment of silence as Flaco studies you, and he finally opens his mouth to say "my men always seem to forget how loud they get whenever they drink, eh?"

All the colour drains from your face, realizing what Flaco is indirectly talking about. "And it seems you can be pretty loud too, huh?"

You're lost for words, stuttering and sweating, a flustered mess. Flaco can't help but softly laugh at the sight, and you realize that this is the first ever time you've heard him laugh, and the first time you've seen him smile.

"I think you know what I'm specifically talking about," Flaco states with a chuckle, and you shyly nod along.

He lets out a soft sigh, and apologizes for a list of things: how foolish he was for not making his feelings known, how he didn't mean to play you about, how he should have done so many things differently.

But his words are cut short when you reach out to place your hand on his, giving him a soft squeeze, and reassure him that you're not mad - you're far from mad, you're glad that this has finally happened.

"Your job today is to let me get to know you, that is... uh... if you want," Flaco offers, and genuinely seems surprised when you lead him over to his bed, both of you getting comfortable, and finally having a proper conversation with each other.

Flaco confesses many things: the amount of men he's killed, what his exact bounty is worth, how long he's been on the run for, and so on. But the one thing he'll never confess is that he's the one who nicknamed you pequeña lobita .

He was drinking with his men one night, when they decided to question who you exactly are. Flaco let his personal nickname slip, and the teasing instantly began, to which Flaco scurried off, muttering about how he'll never drink with them ever again.

He cried when you said yes, like full-on broke down and confessed that he's always been worried that he'd spend his final years alone, how he's so lucky to have you, all that good, mushy stuff.

And of course, Flaco cried so much at the wedding, so much at the honey moon. You had to pack extra handkerchiefs just so Flaco could use them.

He gawks over the ring on his finger all the time, and will sometimes take your hand in his just so he can look at your ring - it's as if he needs confirmation that yes, he has married you.

You once woke up in the middle of the night to find Flaco sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, hunched over slightly. You shuffled about, wondering what he was doing, only to find that he was just staring at his ring. He does this often, you're just not always awake to see it.

Flaco also loves using you as a threat. He knows you're a tough cookie, and you won't hesitate to knock a bitch out, and Flaco lives to see it.

If somebody upsets Flaco, he'll go "watch out, amigo. I'll set my wife on you."

They always laugh at him, to which Flaco will stand up to them (literally,) looking down and going "I might give you a chance to flee and sort yourself out, but my wife sure won't, and it'd be a real shame if you ever have to meet her."

Honestly, Flaco just jumps at any opportunity to say those words, and sometimes he makes his own opportunities. He'll go "my wife!!" whenever he sees you, or will turn to you and go "my wife?" just to confirm that yes, you're his wife.

"There she is!! there's my wife!!!!" :D

(NSFW)

When it comes to the bedroom, Flaco doesn't say it as often as you might expect him to. He loves saying it to show you off, which he does a lot, but he tends to pick other pet names when he's in bed with you.

Flaco has two horny moods: one where he just wants to raw you like crazy whilst calling you names like his whore, and another where he wants to be gentle and tender whilst he calls you his wife.

When he's in his tender mood, he'll shower you in affection and praise when he's in the middle of making love to you; he'll be rolling his hips, kissing along your neck, all whilst whispering about how much he adores you, how much he treasures you, how much light you've brought into his life.

Flaco can be quite the romantic, and sometimes you swear he's secretly a poet. Maybe he spent all his time in the mountains reading poetry books and fawning over you like a schoolgirl?

  "Oh, it's only a tree," Flaco comments as he quickly shut the door again, his hat almost blowing off from the heavy draft. How he is so unfazed by this harsh weather is beyond you, but you begin to panic, knowing there's no way you can ride through that white hell, especially considering the snow is so thick that you can't even see the stairs.

  "My horse," you whimper, concerned for your mounts safety, but Flaco calms you as he assures that your horse is fine, that they've gone to find their own shelter.

  "My horse does it all the time, there's a cave not too far from here, an empty one... well, it's not now there are two horses in it," he explains with a laugh. Flaco has a horse? That's new.

  You allow him to brush your concern off your shoulders, but a shiver quickly replaces it. You realize how the temperature has dropped even more now there's a fresh, thick coat of snow surrounding the cabin, and blowing in through a few gaps in the wood.

"Come, sit," Flaco beckons you as he sits on the floor in front of the cooking fire after placing another log on.

  You sit beside him, watching as the flames begin to pick up, consuming the log Flaco has generously fed, and warming up the cabin within no time. Flaco begins to talk again, and as always, you sit and listen, unaware on how much your minor gesture means to Flaco.

  It's lonely up here, his men are usually out doing their own thing, and Flaco can't risk leaving the cabin for long, not with the price on his head and the Pinkertons on his tail. So, the sight of you tilting your head slightly and batting your lashes innocently, as Flaco continues to talk warms his heart. He knows your full focus is on him, and usually it feeds his ego, but tonight he blushes for once and quickly looks away, his words trailing off for a brief moment before he picks them up again.

  "Are you warmer?" Flaco questions, his eyes on the flames.

"Getting there," you reply.

  Flaco looks at you briefly, opening his mouth to say something, but turns away again. He keeps his eyes forward, watching the fire consume each log, before finally speaking.

  "This... this is nice, you know? I haven't had anybody to talk to in so long. I don't get many visitors, apart from the odd bear or a Pinkerton scout. But to have somebody... to have you sit and listen as I talk away... I really appreciate it," Flaco confesses, his voice soft and warm, but there's an obvious heartbreak in his words.

  You can't help but reach out and rest your hand on his arm, the thick but worn fur of his coat pressing against your palm, entwining between your fingertips. Flaco gazes down at your hand on his arm, and the rosiness returns to his cheeks again, only this time he doesn't hide it as he looks at you.

"I'll keep you warm, if you want," Flaco offers, and you nod in agreement as you shuffle close to him. He's a little hesitant at first, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but soon scoops you up and settles you in his lap. You curl up against him, your side pressed to his chest, your head in the curve of his neck, your legs tangled up with his. Flaco's hands wrap around your waist, cosily meeting in the middle. A gentle kiss is placed to the top of your head before Flaco rests his cheek there, his eyes falling shut, enjoying the feeling of finally having someone to hold, someone who cares, someone who will sit and listen, even if there wasn't a snow storm outside.

  There's silence for a while, yet it's peaceful. Sure, you can still hear the sounds of thudding snow around you, but it soon fades from your consciousness. All you're focused on is Flaco's deep breaths hitting the top of your head, his chest rising and falling against your body, and his heartbeat echoing in the distance.

You could have fallen asleep, if it wasn't for Flaco speaking up again.

  "I... I appreciate you coming to see me so often," Flaco confesses.

  "It's alright, you ain't gotta thank me. I like visiting you," you tell him, your eyes still shut.

  "No," Flaco sighs, and gently moves his hand from your waist so he can cup your chin. He tilts your head up, your eyes opening as they make contact with his. "I, uh, I really appreciate it..."

  Something in your gut tells you that he's trying to confess something important to you, something that needs to be said, but words are failing him. Can you be surprised? Spending all this time by yourself must really start to take a toll on your wellbeing.

  Flaco looks away again, but follows his gaze back to you as you gently cup his jawline and lead his head. He looks down at you, his brows not furrowed for once; this is easily the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you know you're the cause behind his calmness.

He's mesmerized, softly smiling at you. You both know what's coming next, and you're happy on the unspoken agreement to meet in the middle.

  You've always hoped you'd end up like this, or at least end up curled on his lap one day. The kiss is a bonus, a bonus that makes you shudder as he moves his hands to hold you tenderly, his hat brushing against the top of your head as he moves, and his facial hair is a lot softer than it looks, you barely feel it brush over the sensitive skin above your upper lip.

  Flaco breaks the kiss so he can remove his hat, placing it on the floor beside him, and meets your lips again, only this time, he's hungry. His hands are trailing over you, soon settling on your thighs and tugging at them. You know what he wants, and you move your body to straddle him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls your chest against his.

  His kisses are both tender and lustful at the same time, knowing exactly when to sigh against your lips, and exactly when to deepen the kiss. Flaco's large hands are trailing over you once more, only this time he's picking at all the fastenings on your clothes, picking at buttons, pulling at laces, guiding the fabric from your body.

You've only managed to unhook his bandoliers and gun belt by the time you're nude, and you seem to have forgotten about the chill outside; if anything, the cabin suddenly feels boiling.

  Flaco breaks the kiss as you finish fiddling with the fastenings on his coat, shrugging it off and taking a hold of you again. "Hey," Flaco softly calls out, "are you sure about this? I uh, I'm not quite the man I used to be..."

"Quit doubting yourself," you tell him, cupping his jawline and placing a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sure."

Flaco softly laughs, "alright," he confirms, and continues to massage and knead at every part of you. Flaco's admiring you, gazing and gawking over your body, then dips his head to kiss your neck as he keeps one hand firmly on your hip, the other moving down to your crotch.

His hand is roaming over you, getting a feel, exploring your body; he's attentive, noticing what touches make your knees go weak, and which ones you shy away from. Flaco moves his hand away so he can dampen his fingers, and then presses them against your entrance, slicking you up before slowly inserting a finger.

"Good, good," Flaco coos as he works his way in, slowly pumping his finger in and out, picking up a little more speed with every thrust.

Once you're ready, and Flaco knows you're ready since you're now a babbling, whimpering mess, struggling to stay upright over his lap, he slips another finger in. He's praising you once more, kissing along your collarbone and moving up your neck, his other hand gripping you firmly in an attempt to keep you upright. "Just a little more," Flaco mutters as he continues working you open, scissoring his fingers, stretching you to the best of his ability, ensuring you won't be in pain when he finally slides in.

You only have to say his name once and Flaco knows you're ready. He's grinning as he slips out of you, moving to his pants and unfastening them. You almost pounce onto him once he pulls out his cock, thick and flushed, pre-cum dribbling from the tip; he chuckles when you move his hands away to replace them with your own, pumping his shaft, getting him ready and earning beautiful moans.

"Come on," Flaco says as he rushes to unbutton his white shirt, tossing it onto his bed, and laying back on the floor. His coat is spread out perfectly, acting as a padded layer from the wooden floor.

You shuffle up his hips and find the right position, holding Flaco's cock steady and at your own pace, you slide down onto him. Flaco's grunting and groaning as you sink down, letting his hands rest on your hips. He swears once you're seated, and rolls his head back against his coat, shutting his eyes and sighing deeply. "It's been so long," Flaco comments, and you allow the larger man to have a breather.

Flaco's eyes are on yours again, and he's waiting patiently for you to take the lead, letting you ride him when you're ready. Once again, Flaco's moaning, watching in admiration as you ride him, your hands resting on his thick, broad chest, fingers entwined with his layer of chest hair.

You're slow at first, focused on how Flaco's length feels inside you; finally, you're making love to the man you've had your eyes on for so long, the man you trail up the snowy mountain for just to see under the excuse of work, the man who's been soft on you the second you stumbled into his cabin. Flaco has stars and hearts in his eyes, watching you explore him, and encouraging you to go at your own pace.

Once you're ready, you speed up, and Flaco's a moaning mess beneath you. It's not hard to miss the way his hips and thighs keep twitching, eager to press you against his chest and buck up into you, but he's a respectful man, one that has a big soft spot for seeing his soon-to-be-sweetheart on top of him.

Flaco eventually lets out a soft "come here," and beckons you to move your body forward, his arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel his legs move beneath you, propping his body into the right position, and he begins to buck up into you.  

The air is pushed from your lungs, Flaco's hard slam taking you by surprise, and he hums pleasantly at your reaction. He goes a little softer, rolling his hips up into you, holding your waist firmly, occasionally moving down to knead your ass. Flaco's now grunting and groaning, sending a flow of praise your way; when his eyes aren't scrunched shut, he's looking up at you, taking in your debauched reaction.

Eventually, you find it hard to stay propped up, and fall limp against Flaco's chest, your head snuggling into the curve of his chest. "Too good, huh?" Flaco asks in a cocky manner, laughing at the end of his words, and keeps his grin on his face when you nod in agreement.

Flaco speeds up his pace, bucking up into you, loving the way you've turned into a whimpering mess on him. You soon manage to peel yourself off Flaco's chest, propping yourself back up, only because your orgasm is on edge and you need to touch yourself. Flaco sighs when you reach down to play with yourself, sending words of encouragement your way, "close already? good, so am I."

You almost forget how to breathe when your orgasm hits, letting out a choked moan and clenching around Flaco's length. He's grunting and moaning, panting heavily as he slams up into you once more and holds himself there, spilling his load inside you. The cabin is almost silent for a while, just the both of you catching your breath and coming to terms with what's finally happened.

Flaco is the first to speak, patting your thighs and going "let's get cleaned up." Before you can slide off him, he sits upright, stealing a tender kiss from you; it's obvious that Flaco adores you, just from the softness yet eagerness of his kisses, and the way he gazes into your eyes before kissing your forehead sweetly.

Flaco helps clean you up, both of you pulling on some light clothing to sleep in, and Flaco is in bed before you, getting it warm with his coat spread over him, acting as an extra layer of warmth. You're pulled against his chest as you join him, snuggling up to the larger man, his body providing more than enough warmth to keep you toasty throughout the night.

"It's a good thing I ramble some times, huh?" Flaco softly comments.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing there's a snow storm outside."

"Mhmm," Flaco nods in agreement, his eyes falling shut. "We're snowed in, you might need to spend some time here."

"Oh, what a shame," you sarcastically reply, making Flaco chuckle.