Tina (wickedcherub) wrote in tobeyrps,
Tina
wickedcherub
tobeyrps

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Ride with the Devil fic.

One of my favourite authors, pure_shite recently wrote a Ride with the Devil fic (for me.. awwww) aand he let me post it here, since it's been so quiet here, I thought you should see it.

Tobey/JRM. *glomp* .. umm.. all the headers are mine. I don't think he tends to write headers.


Title: Fuck the Devil
Author: pure_shite Sept 2002
Fandom: Ride with the Devil
Pairing: Pitt/Jake
Rating: there's sex. live with it.

Disclaimer: Look, if you want to sue the author of this, you'd have to deal with me first. *glares at the powers that be* You guys are lucky we even watched a movie that involved Jewel.




"Fuck The Devil"

The deafening blast of gunshots echoed through the
lush thicket of trees and foliage, drowning out the
horrified wails of men -- those unfortunate enough to
survive the spray of buckshot that ripped through the
terrain and made Swiss cheese of their weathered
bodies. Pitt Mackeson barely flinched at the
pandemonium taking place around him. He'd grown
accustomed to the sounds of death and war. In fact,
there were moments when he actually relished the
blaring explosions and cries. The shrill screams
filled him with a sense of euphoria and power. They
made him feel...acutely aware of that fact that HE was
still alive... Especially, when the screeching came at
his own two hands.

Becoming a Bushwhacker had opened new doors for Pitt.
There was no law in the wild. No distinct right and
wrong, at least not in his jaded eyes. It was all
about murder, vengeance -- things that he could
understand. Yes, he was free to do whatever he
pleased. Truth be told, Pitt didn't care if the war
ever ended. Wasn't sure if he could go back to living
a structured, civilized life. There was nothing left
for him to go back to, anyway. His family had been
slaughtered at the onset of the war. The only thing
that awaited his return was an empty farmhouse, which
had undoubtedly fallen into ruin by now. At least
here, he had his men. A purpose. And, of course, there
was always Roedel, the sniggering voice in the back of
his mind taunted. Jake Roedel, the very boy he was
crouched down in the bushes silently awaiting -- the
young man who Pitt had grown far too attached to. The
one he lived to hate, more than any Jayhawker.

Earlier that same day, Pitt had aimed his gun in the
boy's direction, had even pulled the trigger. The miss
was deliberate. He wasn't sure what the intended goal
had been, except maybe to make Roedel shit his pants
and suffer a small amount of humiliation. It would
have served Roedel right, after the way he'd
embarrassed Pitt in the restaurant, that day long ago
-- and the boy had done it right in front of Pitt's
own men. He had never been so angry or frustrated, in
all his life. But instead of behaving rashly, as he
typically would have, he'd threatened Roedel, had
glowered and stomped off. And even though a stretch of
time had passed since then, Pitt still had every
intention of making good on that threat. Who the hell
did Dutchy think he was, anyway? The fact that the boy
could read a stupid letter from someone's mother,
didn't make him better than the rest of the men.
Didn't give him the right to go shooting his mouth off
like he had.

That one incident alone would have been enough reason
for Pitt to want the boy dead. Hell, he had killed for
much less. However, Pitt had recently decided that
killing off his fellow Bushwhacker would be fruitless.
He didn't want Dutchy dead, not yet. It wasn't any
sense of compassion that motivated Pitt, though. His
decision to let Dutchy live had been purely selfish.

The day at camp, when he'd pushed Roedel into reading
that sappy letter, had been the real turning point.
Instead of feeling self-satisfied that his bullying
had worked on Roedel, all he felt was exasperation.
Instead of laughing beneath his breath at the smarmy
letter or Roedel's soft voice, all he could do was sit
and sulk, as he stared at the boy's moving lips. It
was then, that he'd begun to question just why it was,
that Roedel stoked his anger. Was it jealousy? Was he
envious of Dutchy's smarts? And why did he feel so
compelled to study little Dutchy's every gesture and
expression? So as to piss himself off? Because he
wanted the boy to be dead? Hrmpf. Hardly, though at
first, he had tried to convince himself that was the
case.

No. That wasn't it. He had to admit, at least to
himself, that it was something altogether different.
It had much more to do with the way Pitt's stomach
flip-flopped every time Roedel dared to sweep those
wide blue eyes in his direction. It was the same type
of feeling he'd experienced, the few times he'd paid
for a whore and gotten his first glimpses of wet
pussy. His heart beat out a faster rhythm and
adrenaline flooded his veins. He could feel that same
warmth gathering in his belly -- moving in a swift
current, right down to his dick. Yes, Pitt had to face
the truth. The line between right and wrong wasn't
the only line being skewed, as of late. He knew Dutchy
could feel it too. It was obvious. Had been written
all over the boy's face, in their scattered moments of
shared defiance. It was growing. And Pitt hated Roedel
for that -- hated the other because he'd managed to
fill him with a craving for something he wasn't
supposed to want. Something he'd never get, unless
taken by force. Dutchy was too pure. Too much of a
little do-gooder, an educated church-boy...unlike Pitt
who relied on animal instinct to survive.

"Come on, Dutchy...where the hell are ya?" Muttering
with irritation, Pitt rubbed at his skinny thighs,
attempting to ease the cramps that were beginning to
form in his tensed muscles. He'd been sitting back on
the heels of his boots for some time. His patience was
wearing thin. Roedel should've wandered back this way
half an hour ago. He'd only gone off to survey the
woods -- to find a place for them to set up camp,
further down the river and away from the scuffle.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Pitt lifted his
pale gray eyes toward the darkening sky. What if
something happened? What if Roedel had gone off and
gotten himself shot or killed? A dull ache seized his
chest. For a second, it felt like something inside him
was being twisted, right beneath the ribs. It was a
foreign pain. One he wasn't able to classify. Then, as
quickly as the dismal thought formed, Pitt forced it
back out of his mind and plucked at a long strand of
grass, placing it between his teeth. He chewed
nervously, his full pink lips drawing together in a
sullen pout around the slender stalk. If anything
happened to Roedel, he was gonna be pissed... But only
because the boy had bitten the dust, before he'd had a
chance to even the score.

From a distance came a faint snap. Then another.
Branches. Cracking beneath the weight of footsteps.
Advancing, carefully, through the foliage. Pitt craned
his neck, peering from beneath the rim of his hat,
until he was finally able to make out Roedel's shaggy
mane of auburn hair through the leaves. His mouth
curled into a sneer and he spat out the blade of
grass, reaching for the pistol, slung low on his bony
hip.

If he didn't already know better, Pitt would have
thought the boy was vacant-headed. The _expression on
his face was dreamy, as he made his way closer. Roedel
looked more like a child, than a soldier. Soft.
Wide-eyed. Pretty, even with the stubble on his
cheeks. The anticipation was almost too much for Pitt
to bear. He'd been waiting there for what seemed an
eternity. Just a little closer now... Come on.

When the boy was only a few feet away, Pitt sprung
from his hiding place, leaping over the shrubbery at
Roedel. The weighty pistol clutched in his slender
hand, Pitt took aim at Roedel before the other even
knew what was happening. "Hold up now, Dutchy."

Roedel froze in his tracks, and then blinked his eyes
in the dying light. Confused for a minute. "Pitt?
Jesus, you scared me. What are ya doing?"

"What's it look like, eh?" He strode forward, cockily
-- the gun extended, pointed at Roedel's head. A
sardonic grin split his gaunt face, as he positioned
the tip of the gun just beneath the other boy's chin.

"You gonna shoot me, Mackeson? That it? Over some
stupid argument?" The boy wet his thin, curvy lips
anxiously. Big eyes stretched open, registering the
fear he did such a good job of hiding with his calm,
rational tone of voice. "I know ya never liked me
much, Pitt... But, that day in town, I was only doin'
what was right. Wasn't nothin' personal."

Pitt mimicked the other, repeating Dutchy's last two
sentences with sarcasm. Sliding the pistol down over
Roedel's throat, he laughed out loud, "Who says
there's gonna be any shootin'? Now git yer ass over
there...against the tree." Pitt nodded his head in the
direction he wanted the boy to walk. "An' take it
slow. Dontcha go doin' somethin' smart."

Warily, Roedel began to ease backwards through the
tangle of weeds and grass, until his back was pressed
against the tree's roughened trunk. "Pitt..."

"Shut yer hole, Dutchy. I gotta ask ya somethin'."
Mackeson stepped closer and flipped his long,
windblown hair back over his shoulder. His face only
inches away from Roedel's, expression becoming more
serious. "Ya ever been with a woman, Dutchy? Ya
know...ya ever put yer thing in her?"

"What?" A slight smile twitched at the corners of
Roedel's mouth, as if he thought Pitt was joking. "My
thing?"

"Yeah. Dutchy...yer dick... I wanna know if yer a boy
or a man. 'Cause ya sure as shit look like a virgin ta
me." He tilted his head to the side, watching the hot
red blush spread over Dutchy's face. "Ya ain't never
done it, huh?" The boy shrugged helplessly and shook
his head, indicating that he hadn't.

"Didn't reckon ya ever had. How 'bout that friend of
yers? Jack? Ya ever let'em tug ya off, 'fore he
croaked?"

"Jesus Christ, Pitt... What the hell are ya askin' me
this stuff for? It's gettin' late... The others will
be lookin' for us soon. Let's just go. Put yer gun
down, an' let's just GO." Roedel's voice cracked as he
spoke, his distress plainly visible.

Glaring, Pitt clenched his jaw, "ya know why I'm
askin'...ya ain't stupid."

"Can't say I do, Mackeson. Ya wanna scare me? Fine. Ya
done went and did it, already."

"That ain't all I wanted." Pitt snapped, voice bitter
as he ran the gun's barrel down over the crotch of
Roedel's sagging brown trousers. "Git yer pants off,
Dutchy. Do it...do it NOW."

Roedel's entire body tensed noticeably, as the
hardness of Mackeson's pistol pressed against his
balls. Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced at Pitt
with surprise, frightened by what he saw. "Ya want me
to drop my pants? Well then, ya best move that gun,
'cause I ain't gonna have ya blowin' my balls off."

Nodding in agreement, Pitt lowered the pistol and took
a step back. Watching intently as Roedel slipped the
worn suspenders off his shoulders and began to open
the front of his own trousers, fingers trembling. The
boy's eyes remained fixed on Mackeson, as his pants
crumpled down around his boots.

"Aww...that's nice, Dutchy." He mumbled, gathering the
hem of Roedel's soiled white shirt in his hand.
Yanking it upward over Dutchy's smooth, boyish chest
as he moved in close again. Close enough to feel
Roedel's hot breath against his skin. Without further
hesitation, Pitt crushed his pillow-like lips down
over Roedel's mouth and forced his tongue inside.
Lapping at the boy's warm saliva, seeking out his
tongue. Taunting it with his own. His free hand
wandering lower, until he found Roedel's dick.

Pitt moaned against the other's mouth, fingers
clasping around the sweat-sticky organ, as it grew
stiffer in his hand. It felt good. So good that
Mackeson hardly noticed when Roedel raised his arms
and twined fingers through his hair. Didn't think to
shove the boy away. At least, not in time to prevent
Roedel from yanking him back by the head of his hair.
The sharp pain pulsed through Pitt's entire scalp,
catching him off guard, making him shriek like a
madman.

"Mackeson, toss the gun. I mean it. I don't wanna
hurtcha." Roedel twisted a clump of hair, hard enough
to render Pitt momentarily blind.

"Fuccccccck. Ahhhh. Done, Dutchy...there ya go. Take
it...ahhhh...fuckin' hell." Once rid of the pistol,
Pitt's delicate hands instinctively flew up to his
head and wrapped themselves around Roedel's much
thicker wrists, in an attempt to pry the other's fists
away. Stomping his boots against the ground, he spit
out a stream of obscenities. "Git off me... Goddammit,
Dutchy. Git off!"

Finally, Roedel relented. Giving up the wads of hair
wrapped around his hands, in favor of a firm shove.
Pitt faltered and fell to the grass with a soft thud,
then raised himself up on both elbows. He scowled up
at Roedel, as the boy pulled up his pants and ambled
over to where he laid, kicking the pistol out of his
path, on the way. Much to Pitt's amazement, Dutchy
straddled his waist and stared down into his face.
"You hate me."

Mackeson didn't respond, but glared indignantly.

"If I let ya go, ya gonna be good?" Roedel brushed the
hair back off Pitt's face affectionately, and waited
for a response. What he received instead of an answer
was a blow to the chest. Ineffectual. Done more for
instigation than to be threatening. Irritated, Roedel
struggled to restrain Pitt's skinny arms, wanting them
pinned down and out of the way. But the man resisted
-- bucking his sinewy body between Dutchy's thighs.
The two of them tossing and writhing on the cold, hard
ground, until Roedel caught him across the face with a
closed fist. Jaw aching, Pitt winced and sighed with
defeat, blue eyes holding gray, "Dutchy..."

This time, it was Roedel who bent down and claimed his
lips. Tentatively at first, gaining confidence when
Pitt opened his mouth and welcomed the boy's probing
tongue inside, sucking it, as he grabbed the back of
Dutchy's head with his hand. Pulling him tighter,
while brushing the back of his other hand across the
strip of exposed skin along Roedel's waist. He could
feel the boy's stomach quiver beneath his fingers. Did
Dutchy want this as much as he did? Need this? He
snaked his hand down into the other's trousers and
groped around until he had Roedel's balls, pliant and
tacky, in his palm. Fingers massaging, tugging on the
dangling sack, before working their way up over
the other's hot, reddened dick.

A low groan catching in his throat, Pitt twisted his
head to the side, tearing his mouth away from the
other's, rubbing his thumb over Roedel's pee slit.
Smearing dribbles of warm cum across the fat, cushiony
head. On impulse, Pitt brought his cum-slick fingers
to his lips and sucked. Drawing the digits deep into
his mouth, he closed his eyes to better savor the
taste of the salty fluid on his tongue. "It's so good,
Dutchy... Ya taste so good. Ya need to try
it...here..." He reached for the boy's cock again.
Wrapping his fingers around it, milking a long string
of ooze from the tip, as they both watched.

Pitt swiped at the cum with one finger, then raised it
to Roedel's soft, rose-colored lips, brushing it over
the subtle curves until the boy's mouth was
glistening. "Go on and lick it..." He urged, his voice
tight -- strained with arousal and anticipation.

Obediently, Roedel flicked his tongue over the gloss,
sampling his own semen as Pitt watched in awe. His own
cock jerking against his taut abdomen, lips parting to
gasp as he gave Roedel's dick another firm squeeze. "I
want it in me, Dutchy. Want yer dick in my ass." And
he did. Though Pitt hadn't set out to be taken, he
knew it was what he wanted... To be Roedel's first
lay...

The boy's eyelids were at half-mast, brilliant blue
just visible beneath his dark, auburn lashes as he
stared down at Mackeson. "Jesus...Pitt...I wanna..."
Roedel trailed off, too flustered to finish his
statement. Instead, he wrapped his own hand around
Mackeson's and the two moved together, stroking up and
down Dutchy's rigid length. Slow and steady at first,
pace quickening, as they grew more excited. Until
Roedel was whimpering shamelessly, thrusting his hips
into their pumping fists.

"Urgh...hold up there...lemme git my clothes off."

Roedel sat back on his haunches, his dick jutting
obscenely from the opening of his trousers, while Pitt
yanked off his boots and squirmed on top of the grass
-- wiggling out of the worn pants and shoving them
aside with his foot. Breath coming in ragged spurts;
he rolled onto all fours, his long, fat cock
bobbing between his thighs. Dark hair spilling over
his shoulders. "C'mere, Dutchy...git behind me."

His view obstructed by his lengthy tangle of hair,
Pitt concentrated on the faint noises around him, as
he wet his lips and waited. Listening to Dutchy's
rasping breath, mingling with the soft whisper of
leaves, swaying in the early evening breeze. The
sound of twigs, crunching beneath the other boy's
knees, as he crept up behind Mackeson's bare ass.

The warmth of Roedel's hand radiated against Pitt's
knobby back, as he steadied himself and began to cram
his dick between Mackeson's smooth, white cheeks.
Clumsily. Groaning with frustration as he pressed
against the tight pucker, trying in vain to stretch
the small pink mouth open. The dry friction burning
and pinching their skin. "Pitt, it ain't goin' in too
good. Do somethin', would ya? Open yer hole."

"Go on and spit on me. It's gotta be wetter. Fuck,
Dutchy. Do it already." Mackeson growled and arched
his back, dropping down on his elbows. Inhaling the
scent of damp earth, as he pressed his forehead to the
dirt.

When the first hot glob of saliva splattered against
his asshole, Pitt shuddered, feeling the slow trickle
glide down his crack and over his balls.
"Ahhhh....goddamn...ohyeah, Dutchy...poke yer finger
in me now."

With one determined motion, Roedel stabbed his finger
deep into Pitt's ass, burying it to the knuckle, hard
and swift. Unable to control his response, Pitt yelped
out loud at the sudden invasion. Muscles panging as he
drove back harder against the other's hand, wanting
even more. Tensing every time Dutchy wriggled his
finger against the hot membranes inside. "Does it feel
good?"

Pitt nodded, barely coherent, as he reached between
his legs to grab his own throbbing cock. "Yeah,
Dutchy, it does. Feels real good. Now do it to me with
yer dick."

Heeding the command, Roedel pulled his finger out,
causing Pitt's empty hole to wink with the sudden
loss. The boy grabbed the base of his thick cock, and
aimed the tip at Mackeson's pucker. Rubbing against
the pink, wrinkled skin. Grunting and pushing until
the mushroom-shaped head finally popped through the
tight ring of muscle.

A knifelike pain shot through Pitt's body -- from his
abused orifice straight up through his gut. For a
second, it felt like he would split in two. His
asshole was stretched so wide it burned. But he didn't
care. Perspiration gleaming on his pallid face, Pitt
slammed back on the other's cock, grunting like
a stuck pig. Hair flailing wildly as he rode hard on
Roedel's dick, hot tears stinging his eyes. It hurt,
but it was bearable. And after awhile, the searing
pain in his bowels dulled to little more than an
uncomfortable stitch.

Clutching at Pitt's narrow hips, the other boy
shifted, altering the angle of his thrusts --
unknowingly prodding Mackeson's gland with the tip of
his cock. Wracking his body with violent waves of
pleasure. Ohgod...what was that, anyway? Pitt didn't
know it'd feel like this...so good.... He almost
forgot to breathe...

"Arggh...Jesus...hot...ohfuck...Pitt..." Their
movements became frantic. Bodies slapped together.
Skin against skin. Roedel's heavy balls tapping
against Pitt, as they swayed to and fro.

Mackeson pumped his dick faster, fingers tightening
around the slippery girth, as he felt himself expand
further. Aware that his own balls were drawing up
closer to his rocking body, "Dutchy...ahhh...I'm gonna
blow it... Do it harder, come on...
Oh...ohyeah...that's it...jist like that." Pitt
clenched his eyes shut, mouth gaping as his cock began
to pulse in his hand. Howling, he spit ropes of cum
out onto the grass. Choking for air as the intensity
of his orgasm caused his lanky form to convulse.

While he struggled to catch his breath, Roedel
exploded deep in his gut. He could feel it. Feel
Dutchy's hot cum bathing his insides. Hear the boy
moaning behind him, as the thick load filled his ass.
Even after he'd emptied himself, Roedel continued to
move. Slowly. Until his dick grew limp and he finally
slipped from Mackeson's slacked hole. Warm fluid
dribbled from Pitt's sore, puffy opening as the other
bent down over his back.

"Git off me." Pitt huffed, nudging the boy. "I kin
barely hold my own self up." It was true, Pitt's arms
and legs were shaking. He felt about ready to
collapse. And as soon as Dutchy rolled off on to the
ground beside him, Pitt did just that. He sprawled
out atop the ground, listening to the sounds of night.
Of insects buzzing nearby, crickets chirping. Muffled
voices in the distance. Neither Roedel or Pitt spoke,
for what seemed an incredibly long stretch of time. It
was Pitt who broke the silence, "ya okay,
Dutchy?"

"Yeah. I'm fine...that was jist...sorta...surprisin'."
He stammered, turning his head to hold Pitt's gaze.

Cackling at the unexpected remark, Mackeson inched
nearer, resting one half of his body on the other's,
as he smirked, "You and me...we're gonna do it more."

The boy laughed, his wide-eyed stare, big blue eyes,
coaxing forth the small portion of humanity that
remained somewhere within Pitt. "So I guess this means
truce?"

Pitt's eyes darkened, "Yeah. Fer now. But Dutchy? What
ya need ta know is...this...." As if to accentuate his
forthcoming words, Mackeson reached between the boy's
legs and cupped the flaccid organ, lying against his
warm, moist sack. He could hear Roedel draw a quick
breath. "Yer mine. Yer dick is MINE. An' if I ever
catch ya pokin' it in somethin' other than me... Yer
as good as dead. Don't care if it's a boy or girl,
neither. Ya might wanna remember that." His lush,
pink lips curled back over his tobacco tinted teeth
before he stood and pulled up his rumpled trousers.

Roedel gave a slight nod, searching for an appropriate
response. "We're in the middle of a war, Pitt. There
ain't no place around here to be findin' a woman. And
aside from you, I ain't never wanted a boy. I reckon
that's 'cause yer prettier than just about any woman I
ever seen."

Unaccustomed to compliments, a sudden flame of heat
surged to Pitt's face, burning it bright red. He
adjusted his clothes, dismayed that his body was
betraying him -- giving a subtle hint to the other,
that he was not the monster he often appeared. He was
something else. Something entirely different. "Who
sez I'm jist talkin' 'bout durin' the damn war?"

Swivelling his head toward Roedel once again, Pitt
narrowed his steely eyes and scowled. Cussing the boy
out in his thoughts, simply because Roedel had made
him want...and need. Cussing himself out, because he
couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. Couldn't
tell Dutchy what he meant, with all his cold demands.
He didn't know how. Only knew how to push and
intimidate. How to inflict pain. With a weary sigh,
Pitt scooped his hat up off the ground and slapped at
the loose dirt, before placing it back on his head. He
stepped a few paces away from Dutchy and through the
foliage. Mumbling as he went. "We best be gittin'
back to the others."

"Hey, Mackeson?" Roedel was snapping his suspenders
back up over his shoulders, when he called out. Pitt
paused, without looking back, "what is it, Dutchy?"

"Me too... I mean... I think...ya like me right?
So...I want ya to know, ya ain't gonna have to keep
pretendin' so hard."

"Git yer ass movin', Roedel. Ya think too much. That's
always been parta yer problem."

His swagger cocky as ever, Pitt made his way through
the inky blackness beneath the canopy of trees,
sinking his teeth down into his lower lip to suppress
the satisfied grin that threatened break out over his
face.

Fin.
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