Bucktommyboils + give me a minute to catch my breath.
Thank you, James, my number one BTBoils partner in crime 🫡
This one got a lil longer, cause I can't resist Boilsposting it seems. So yeah, some BuckTommy/Billy Boils Cowboy Era AU yeehaw
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The stream is a godsend.
Tommy knew he was giving up plenty, agreeing to come out here with Billy and Evan with little more than the shirts on their backs and their horses, but it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
On the harder nights, when Tommy's ass aches from all day in the saddle, covered in dust, skin parched and burnt from the sun and longing for his nice, clean bed back home, Tommy almost regrets it. Thinks he should have said no if not for the overwhelming knowledge that if he let Billy and Evan walk out that door without him, they very likely were never coming back. At least not all in one piece.
But then there are days like this.
Evan lets out a yip, barely off his horse and out of his boots with a splash before Tommy and Billy can blink. Billy is more cautious; he checks the banks, sets his gun belt and knife well within reach of the shore before finally kicking his own boots to dip his toes into the cool water.
Tommy takes his time too, idling near the horses under the pretense of checking them over even though they're more than content with the patch of green grass near the bank to need much from Tommy. It gives him some much needed distance from the other two. To observe. To think.
The tension between the three of them coils tight around Tommy's neck like a noose. Billy's eyes on Tommy when he watches Evan, hot like coals over the camp fire over late nights. The heat of Evan's body next to his when they sleep. The fact that Tommy's here at all. Billy's selective with his crew, Tommy knows that. It's significant that they want him around at all, let alone apart of whatever strange dance they're pulling him into along with them.
Tommy mulls it over, the heated looks, the whispered conversations late at night. This damned trip together across the desert.
Tommy really should know better than to turn his back on Billy Boils and Evan Buckley though.
A splash is the only warning Tommy gets before he feels wet arms wrap around his chest.
"Evan- Evan do not!" Tommy bucks in Evan's grip, feels more than hears the way Evan laughs as Tommy's hauled bodily off his feet against Evan's chest and back towards the water. Billy moves in quick and grabs his legs.
They work with startling efficiency to divest Tommy of his boots and belt and Tommy tries not to let his face colour as Evan barely has to work his hand to unbuckle Tommy's belt from behind.
The heat is short lived at least, once Tommy is unceremoniously dumped into the stream, the pair of them cackling the whole way down the bank. Tommy has a few moments of peace in the quiet rush under the water to ponder leaving them both for dead in this godforsaken desert before he surfaces again to Evan's grinning face, his big wet hands pressing on his shoulders to keep himself up on the slippery stream bed under foot, Billy's wet body pressed up behind him, holding them both up.
"Your face," Evan breathes, water dripping from damp curls, dripping and running down the bright apples of his cheeks to collect in the dimples there as he laughs again.
"Buck thought you looked like you needed a dip," Billy says and Tommy doesn't even need to look at him to hear the amusement, though he frowns at the wordless look Evan throws over his head at Billy.
"Oh well thank you for speeding things along then," Tommy says, though his annoyance falters as Evan presses in closer, pushing Tommy further back against the bulk of Billy behind him.
"Okay, okay," Evan says, doing his best to sober. His hands come to rest on Tommy's chest, stilling Tommy entirely. "Give me a minute to catch my breath." Water collects on Evan's lashes as he glances coyly at Tommy from under them, ducking his head, face flushed with mirth. It's a look he's seen Evan use on girls in the saloon. Used on Billy in those quiet moments where Tommy pretends not to see.
Billy is less subtle, always straight forward when it comes to the things he wants, and Tommy jumps when he feels lips on his neck, the brush and prickle of his mustache against Tommy's skin.
"Billy-" Tommy barely has time to breathe his name before Evan leans forward. His lips are cold from the water around it, a stark contrast to how Tommy feels like he's burning up from the inside. Two pairs of hands slide along Tommy's shoulders, against his jaw, river water a cold shock where Tommy's body wants to overheat as Evan works his mouth against his own.
The touch of them, both of them, mouths and tongues hot and wet, feels like the first drop of water to a dying man. A man lost in the desert.
Tommy groans into the kiss, pulling them both tighter against him. Feels the way Billy grins against his skin, Evan's triumphant smile against his lips. He'd gladly let them both pull him under.
