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Death in Boca Caliente Variation n. 2 AI (and Ferdinando BDB)
The sun's dying rays painted Boca
Caliente in hues of blood and fire as Sheriff Brian Blacks rode into town,
his mount's hooves kicking up dust that clung to his sweat-dampened skin.
Each thunderous beat of his heart seemed to echo in the encroaching twilight.
Brian's eyes darted warily across the
ramshackle buildings. "Easy now," he murmured, more to himself than
his horse. The acrid stench of gunpowder mingled with stale sweat and cheap
whiskey, assaulting his nostrils. A burst of drunken laughter erupted
from the saloon, followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot. Brian flinched
instinctively, his hand flying to the pistol at his hip. Damn this
godforsaken town, he thought bitterly. And damn Dan Bearhunter
for leading me here. As he swung down from the saddle, his
boots hit the ground with a dull thud. The horse snorted nervously, sensing
its rider's unease. Brian ran a calloused hand over its flank. "I know,
old girl. I don't like it either." He tied the reins to a weathered
hitching post, his fingers trembling slightly. Get ahold of yourself, Blacks.
You're here to do a job. But even as he tried to strengthen his resolve,
unbidden images of Bearhunter's piercing gaze and
mocking smile flashed through his mind. Brian's eyes scanned the dusty street,
searching for any sign of his quarry. "Where are you hiding, you
bastard?" he growled under his breath. The shadows seemed to lengthen,
reaching out with grasping fingers. He shivered despite the lingering heat. A scantily-clad girl stumbled out of
the saloon, giggling. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Brian. "Well,
hello there, handsome," she slurred, sauntering towards him.
"Looking for some company?" "Not tonight, ma'am," Brian
replied gruffly, tipping his hat. "I'm here on business." She pouted playfully. "Aw, don't
be like that, sugar. A big strong lawman like you must get awful
lonely." Her hand trailed suggestively down his chest. Brian gently but firmly removed her
hand. "I said no." His voice softened slightly. "You haven't
seen a man come through here recently, have you? Tall, big fellow, bald, long
beard, goes by the name of Bearhunter?" The girl's face paled, all
flirtatiousness vanishing. "I... I don't know nothin'
about that," she stammered, backing away. "Please, mister. I don't
want no trouble." Brian's jaw clenched. "So he has
been here." It wasn't a question. The girl turned and fled back into the
saloon without another word. Brian watched her go, a sick feeling of dread
coiling in his gut. Bearhunter was close. He could
almost feel the outlaw's presence, a malevolent shadow lurking just out of
sight. God help me, Brian thought. What have I
gotten myself into? But he knew the answer. Brian drew a deep breath, steeling
himself for what lay ahead. The saloon doors loomed before him, a gateway to
the pit of vipers he knew awaited within. With a decisive push, he thrust
them open, the creak of weathered wood drowning momentarily beneath the din
of raucous laughter and clinking glasses. A wall of smoke hit him first, acrid
and thick, stinging his eyes. As they adjusted to the dim light, Brian
scanned the room, his gaze cutting through the haze like a knife. Every nerve
in his body thrummed with tension, hyper-aware of his surroundings. "What's your poison,
stranger?" the bartender called out, eyeing Brian's badge warily. Brian ignored him, his attention locked
on a figure at the far end of the bar. Even from across the room, there was
no mistaking that long, wild beard, the broad shoulders that seemed to
command the very air around them. Bearhunter. As if sensing Brian's gaze, the outlaw
turned, their eyes meeting across the crowded space. A sardonic smile played
on Bearhunter's lips, a challenge and an invitation
all at once. Brian's breath caught in his throat, desire and revulsion
warring within him. "Whiskey," he rasped to the
bartender, needing something to steady his nerves. "Leave the
bottle." Brian's boots scuffed against the worn
floorboards as he approached, each step echoing the thunderous beating of his
heart. Bearhunter's eyes never left him, that
damnable smirk growing wider with every inch closed between them. "Well, well," Bearhunter drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent an
involuntary shiver down Brian's spine. "If it ain't
the law come to grace us with his presence." Brian's jaw clenched, his hand
instinctively twitching towards his holster. "Dan Bearhunter,"
he growled, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You've got a lot to
answer for." Bearhunter
chuckled, the sound dark and dangerous. "Do I now? And here I thought we
were just gonna have a friendly drink." He
gestured to the empty stool beside him. For a moment, Brian hesitated. Every
instinct screamed at him to draw his gun, to end this here and now. But
something held him back, a perverse curiosity gnawing at his insides. "You know why I'm here,"
Brian said, his voice low and taut with tension. He took the offered seat,
hyper-aware of Bearhunter's proximity, the heat
radiating off the other man's body. "Oh, I've got a few ideas," Bearhunter replied, leaning in close. His breath ghosted
across Brian's ear as he whispered, "Question is, Sheriff, do you know
why you're really here?" Brian's grip tightened on his glass,
knuckles turning white. God help him, but he did know. And that knowledge
terrified him more than any outlaw ever could. "Let's cut the game, Bearhunter," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"I'm here to bring you to justice." Bearhunter's
laughter rang out, bouncing off the saloon's dusty walls. "Justice?!
Funny choice of words coming from a man who spends his nights chasing
monsters, only to find his reflection in their eyes." Brian flinched, but he didn't rise to
the bait. Instead, he slammed his glass down on the counter and stood to
leave. "You won't get away this time, Bearhunter." "Sit down!" Bearhunter's order cracked through the air like a whip,
leaving the room silent. Brian froze, his heart pounding in his chest.
Slowly, he turned to face the outlaw, now standing mere inches away. "I've been on the run for a long
time, Sheriff," Bearhunter purred, one hand
caressing the butt of his revolver. "And I know what you are looking
for. I can give it to you, I can give you everything you want, what you
really want." Their gazes locked, a silent standoff
that stretched on for what felt like eternity. The air between them was
charged with a palpable tension, electric with the promise of violence... and
something else. Brian knew he should draw his own gun,
end this dance once and for all. Yet, his hand remained at his side, as if it
were made of lead. "What are you saying?" Bearhunter's
grin widened, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. "Come with me,
sheriff." “I don't know what dirty game you're
playing, you son of a bitch, but I'm not buying it.” "Oh, I think you are," Bearhunter purred, leaning in so close that their breath
mingled. "Deep down, you don't just want to catch me, do you? You want…
something else." Brian's denial died on his lips as he
caught a whiff of Bearhunter's musk: sweat,
leather, and something else—something primal that set his blood on fire. He should arrest him. He should gun the
son of a bitch down right where he stood. But the words that left his lips
were a hoarse whisper: "What's the job?" “Come with me.” “Where?” “To the latrine”. Bearhunter
stood up, grinning, and headed for the back door. Brian knew he should have shot him,
right then, without waiting. He bowed his head and followed him. A harsh laugh echoed off the latrine
walls. Brian's hands trembled as he aimed his pistol at Bearhunter. "You don't have the stomach for
it, lawman," Bearhunter sneered, slowly
unbuttoning his trousers. "Not when there's something you want
more." Brian's resolve wavered as Bearhunter's stiffening member came into view. Shame and
desire warred within him. "Filthy pig," Bearhunter spat. "On your knees where you
belong." "No...I can't..." Brian's
protests died as he sank down, gun clattering to the floor. Rough hands seized his head, forcing Bearhunter's length past his lips. Brian gagged, tears
stinging his eyes as the outlaw used him ruthlessly. This is what I've become, Brian thought
bitterly. A slave to my basest urges. When Bearhunter
tired of his mouth, he bent Brian over the latrine. Pain seared through him
as the outlaw entered him brutally. "Squeal for me, pig," Bearhunter growled, hips slamming forward. Brian bit back a cry, hating the
pleasure that mingled with the pain. He'd come here to end this, to reclaim
his honor. Instead he'd only fallen further. Brian felt that, despite the violent
pain rising from his ravaged ass, the pleasure was growing. The cock was as hard
as the barrel of the gun lying on the ground. "No!" Pleasure overwhelmed him. He came while
Dan Bearhunter fucked him in the ass. The orgasm receded, leaving Sheriff
Brian Blacks's body trembling and hollow, like a
discarded sack of used leather. He remained motionless, the revolting truth
of his actions crashing down on him with an almost physical force, as if the
very dusty walls of the latrine could reach out and strangle him. His chest
heaved, lungs screaming for air, as he struggled to regain composure. The
piquant copper tang of blood, commingled with the rank stench of excrement,
assaults his nostrils. His stomach churned, threatening to expel its contents
onto the filth-ridden floor, but he gritted his teeth, willing his rebelling
stomach to submit to his iron-clad control. His rapist's frantic thrusts shook him.
Finally he heard Dan Bearhunter let out a series of
grunts and his seed filled his insides. Still lying on the sheriff, Dan Bearhunter watched him with predatory, glittering eyes,
like a wolf circling a wounded deer. The outlaw's smirk widens, sensing the
sheriff's vulnerability—the fissure in his carefully constructed facade of
righteousness that he had so ruthlessly exploited. A chill run down Brian's
spine, colder than the iciest wind whipping through the Mountain passes. He
had allowed this monster to unravel him, to lay bare his darkest desires, and
now he was forever tainted. Brian felt the cold press of metal. His
own gun, pushed against him. "Time to put you down,
lawman," Bearhunter panted. A deafening bang. Searing agony. Then
darkness as Brian's limp body was shoved into the pit below. Bearhunter's
laughter rang out as he settled onto the seat, muscles relaxing. "A
fitting tomb for a piece of shit." |
