<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Nathan Hunter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Vigilance Ranch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Margeurite, Closed<br/><hr/>He nodded as she shrugged off the question about a covering, then held the door for her to the shed.  To say he was unprepared for the sudden intimacy was an understatement.  When she pressed close, close enough he could feel the warmth of her curved body without quite touching it, he felt a flood of arousal through his body.  His cock surged and swelled, making a bulge down his pantleg.<br/><br/>His gaze drifted down as she undid the top toggle of the tunic, the memory of two nights ago and her bare torso, the swell of her breasts against his bare chest sang through his mind, as if it were only moments ago that she'd been riding him through the filthy trousers, his sheathed cock rubbing at her crease.  His breath came quicker, his heart racing.<br/><br/>The question rattled through his mind.<em>Do you want me Nathan?</em>It struck at the bars of the caged beast, The words conjured images of grabbing her throat, pressing her back against the wood, pulling the dirty trousers down and pressing her against the walls, bare and wanton.  He remember the way her walls had gripped him, the sultry purr, the sharp points of her nipples that dragged across his bare chest.  Oh yes, he wanted her.  The beast hungered to be buried inside of her again, and there was a fierce, animal heat that came more naturally to his eyes than it had the night before.<br/><br/>Then she was praising him, her voice a caress.  A quiet assurance to an ego that she nettled more easily than he was comfortable with.  Even in a castoff chinaman's clothes, she had a beauty, an assurance that no hardship could take from her, a true beauty that wasn't dependent on fancy clothes and expensive makeups.  He knew there was a feral, lustful thing in her, too, a tigress, and he ached to see it loosed.<br/><br/><em>If you want me, take me.</em><br/><br/>His eyes followed the last of the toggles opening, the sway of her hips and shoulders, the flounce in her step that seemed to make her entire body wiggle in anticipation.  Not even the most civilized part of him could deny that he wanted her.  But it was the last two words.  The last two words that reminded him of the woman he'd married.  The woman who'd flinched at his gentlest touch, who'd endured his affections rather than desired them.  Who'd made him loathe himself for wanting her.  Thoughts turned in his dark eyes, and he stepped away from the doorway.  He followed her with, feeling the shed shudder with the closing of the door behind him.  Part of him was terrified, and with that sensation came a welcome release – the drift in sensation that came with fear, the crystallization of a moment.  When his palm would slam down on the hammer of a pistol, when every motion was deliberate precision.  It freed him from fear, freed him from the whisperings of the beast.<br/><br/>He stepped closer, her topless body still calling to him.  He reached for her, but only took her hand.  Even calm, he didn't trust himself to touch her anywhere else.  He drew her hand to his mouth, offering the kiss of a gentleman.  Controlled, and careful, and sinfully aware of the pleasures that could be had simply by tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist.  Her body was a sculpture's marvel, and for a moment he allowed himself his admiration of it.  He let those desires go, instead kissing her knuckles, a light brush.<br/><br/>“<strong>I do want you,</strong>” he whispered, into the steamy shed.  “<strong>I am sure of it.  But I will never <em>take</em> you again.</strong>”<br/><br/>His gaze met her eyes, and he released her hand, letting it fall.  He forced himself to turn, stepping back towards the door.  It took a long moment, paused, his muscles tense, to remember how to work the simple mechanism of a handle.  For a moment it seemed like a complex blacksmith's puzzle of rings and bars, but he reached, clicking, and feeling a flood of relief when the door opened.<br/><br/><em>TURN AROUND AND FUCK HER.</em><br/><br/>His beast had grown a voice, rattling in its cage.<br/><br/><em>FUCK HER LIKE THE WHORE OF BABYLON.  FUCK HER TIL SHE BEGS FOR IT.  FUCK HER TIL SHE SQUEALS ON YOUR COCK.</em><br/><br/>He blanched at the crudeness of his own thoughts, gritting his teeth, and stepped through the doorway.<br/><br/><em>YOU YELLOW COWARD.  SHE WILL NEVER LOOK AT YOU AGAIN.<br/><br/>Maybe.  So be it.</em><br/><br/>The thought was as painful as chopping off an arm.  But he was never going to<em>take</em>from a woman again.  Not by gun or coin or filial obligation.  He stepped out, closing the door behind him, wondering if he had missed the most provocative, sinful, pleasurable experience of his life.