Summary: What if the man joined the dance instead of walking out the back door?
Warning: The Judge/The Man, violence, exhibitionism, dub-con, humiliation
Author's Note: This is technically smut, but I was in a weird space so the writing style is all wonk. Hope you enjoy anyway 3
The Man stood staring at the stage, watching the Judge dance. His nakedness on blatant display for the word to see and no one, not one person in this twice damned saloon did anything about it. His mind beckoned him to the back door, to retreat, relieve himself and ride off to places yet to be known.
The man would not this time listen to his mind, but found his heart leading him towards the edge of the stage. It became hard to breathe and his hands shook, but the look of surprise the Judge settled upon him solidified his choice. One he could still walk away from, and good god above did he want to. The Judge stood before the Man, in all his unabashed glory, and held out a hand to the Man.
He did not break eye contact when the Judge offered him a hand, a childlike giddiness nearly making him vibrate along with the fiddles and spoons. He was so eager for something... the Man stared deep into the demon, as he lifted a shaking hand and placed it inside the Judge's. He expected to be pulled in, to be hurled up next to the Judge and taken away to the music, but it did not happen. Instead, large fingers curled oh so gently around his hand. More gentle than the Judge had ever been with the Kid. The Man felt tears welling but he set his mouth in determination, and stepped up.
Being up there was an entirely different beast. As though he'd stepped into another world. The Man could feel eyes on him as the Judge pulled him in close and slipped a leg between his own to push him along to the heartbeat of the music. He wanted to tear his gaze away and run, but he had made his choice and could no sooner turn away from it now... that time had passed.
The Judge grinned like the mad man he kept just beneath the surface could simply not be contained. His hands were everywhere until they had stripped the Man as bare as himself. The Man felt his face flush and the physical weight of eyes all around and on him filled him with shame. He didn't want to look, had to close his eyes against it, but a hard wall to his back and rough lips on his own forced him to see.
The Judge's arms surrounded the Man, and the stretch was achingly familiar when such a large thing pinched up into his guts. He screamed then; a battle cry rang out. He bit back, fighting for all he was worth and all the while the Judge beamed that a challenger had finally entered the dance. Blood dripped down the Judge's arms from the Man's nails tearing skin, but the beat did not stop. Would not until he was done... and he would never be done.
The Man squirmed and fought deliriously, screamed and pushed back against him. It was glorious enough to make the Judge's knees shake when he finally held him so hard, the Man was sure to bruise and still, they looked into each other's eyes. One of pure delight and the other sheer determination.
The Man panted harshly and he shook something awful at the heat that invaded to swish around inside him, but his feet were firm when he was set back down upon the stage.
The Judge kissed him so sweetly, and swept him back into the dance, the beat now changed as the onlookers took sides and the shot of bullets rang out, whizzed by and hit solid flesh.
He had done this, the Man... he would dance forever more, so the others had the courage to fight.
End
Author's Note
Hope you enjoyed, darling.
Until the next bout of inspiration
Anne Hunter