Work Text:
deep deep under
~Like the Dawn, Oh Hellos
Sometimes, after a job went south, after a stressful week, or even just when he needed a break, Dutch needed someone else to take control. Needed the weight taken off his shoulders, needed to be Dutch, not Dutch Van Der Linde, even if only for a night.
Hosea, of course, was always there to take over. To do whatever he needed — and he always knew whatever it was — to command him to read to him one of those adventure books he was fond of or to bind his hands or feet, to bring him off with only his voice. To make him kneel, to bring him to that point where he was floaty, nothing on his mind but 'Hosea'.
And Dutch was drifting.
Hosea was a welcome weight on his tongue, a pillow soft beneath his knees.
Hosea was always good to him like that.
Knew when he needed it rough. When he needed to be limping the next day, hiding bruises and rope burns. Needed to be feeling it for days, thighs cramping when he mounted The Count. Knew when he needed it soft and slow, folding loose and easy. fingers sliding across his skin. Needed to feel the ghost of his touch on him for days after. Needed to be told he was 'Good' and that Hosea was 'Proud.'
And today was one of the days where he needed soft. Needed to be petted, to be brought to his knees. And he wasn't as young as he used to be, so Hosea had given him a pillow.
"Alright, Big Cat?" the man marked his page in his book, ran a thumb along his jaw as he checked in.
Dutch swallowed around him, surfaced just long enough to tap twice at his hand, and the smile Hosea gave him could have tided him over for months on its own. "My good boy." Dutch shivered, leaned into the touch when Hosea ran his fingers through his hair, and then he was
falling
falling
falling